#i love sarah. i love her rage. i love that she's the only hope for the future.

[carefulfears]

thinking about how sarah connor was a girl who worked in a diner and wanted to go to a late movie because her date ditched her and kissed her pet lizard on the mouth. in a deleted scene from the first film, she tells her time-traveling warrior that when this is all over, she wants to take him to disneyland. buy him a hot dog. "i want it to be over for you." when we see her again, 10 years later, she's strapped to a psych ward bed. she's screaming of the end times, how everyone is already dead, there is no future. she's snapping at her kid until he cries, because he wanted to help her.

[bluebeary-jay]

Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

[ariesangelxo]

mornings, part three

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

cw: rafe x fem!reader, talk about use of drugs, dealing, one minor head injury, sad!rafe, soft!rafe, a little bit of angst, fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking, makeup sex, piv, creampie, pet names during sex, praise, etc.

an: i hope you all like part three! i want to quickly thank you again for the love shown for parts one and two. i cannot wait to continue writing. the interactions mean more than i can ever express.

part one part two

the silence that enveloped you was a strikingly peaceful contrast from the loud echo of a gunshot that rang in your ears.

sarah’s scream the moment you hit the ground ran a deep chill through rafe’s body. it was the sight of you, crumpled up on the beach, that snapped him out of his cocaine-fueled rage.

as people at the boneyard ran from jj firing off the gun, you lay perfectly still. rafe jumped into action, running over to you. he cradled your head and to his horror, he felt liquid on one of his hands. you had sustained a small cut to the back of your head when you passed out, an unfortunately placed rock being in the same landing spot as your skull.

when rafe pulled one of his hands away from the back of your head his skin turned nearly white. he looked up at sarah, tears forming in his eyes as he yelled for her to get kie. something in him changed, he realized in that moment how close he was to truly losing you.

kie told rafe to move as she lifted your head, supporting your neck so that she could try and feel for the injury. rafe stood up, walking absentmindedly to the ocean where he rid his stomach of the alcohol he’d drank earlier to try and numb the pain of seeing you again. he felt a hand rubbing his back and looked over to see sarah.

“she’s okay, rafe. she just got a cut from a rock. kie said everything else feels okay.” rafe felt a surge of relief go through him.

he went back over to you, salty tears cascading down his cheeks as he gently held you, “i love you. i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so, so sorry. you need to wake up though, we gotta get you out of here.”

you began to come out of unconsciousness, just barely catching rafe’s words as the pounding in your head hit you. you harshly shut your eyes, the noise from kie and pope yelling at jj only intensified the pain.

rafe hushed them, shooting a glare towards jj. “hi my sweet girl,” he whispered softly to you, running his hand gently over your forehead.

you opened your eyes to see him. your heart began racing, it had been so long since you’d been this close to him. the way he looked at you, his usually icy blue eyes now warm with concern, filled your stomach with butterflies. “rafe,” you croaked out, your face twisting at the sound of your own scratchy voice, “my head hurts.”

“i know. just hang in there f’me, okay? we’re gonna get you home.” he picked you up bridal style, silently looking over to sarah to ask her to come with. she quickly nodded, following after him.

the drive back to tannyhill was quiet. you were in the backseat, lying down with your head on rafe’s lap as sarah drove.

the anger you’d been harboring towards the cameron boy was set aside. it was difficult for you to have the energy to be mad when his eyes were glossy with unshed tears, holding you like his life depended upon it.

rafe carried you into the silent home, bringing you to the bathroom where he grabbed a first aid kit. he dabbed at the cut on the back of your head, holding your chin to keep you still.

“this might hurt a little, just stay still,” he murmured as he focused.

you winced at the initial contact, letting out a slight whimper, “shhh, you’re doing so good for me, baby.”

the gentle tone in his voice made you want to cry. it felt like it had been stolen away from you so long ago, a precious artifact that was a mere memory of your once perfect relationship.

rafe caught the slight wobble in your bottom lip, quickly pulling away from the back of your head. your eyes opened at the sudden lack of contact to see the frown on his lips, “are you okay? was it hurting too much?”

“no, no, it’s okay.” you responded, holding his gaze. rafe nodded softly, finishing up cleaning the small wound before looking you over. you could tell his head was swarming with thoughts, the way he furrowed his brows and brought his bottom lip between his teeth was a dead giveaway.

a part of you was tempted to question him, to ask what he was thinking about and pick his brain to pull out the answers you so desperately wanted. the other part of you told you not to. the possibility of some of your worst fears becoming the truth would completely break you now.

it took you a moment to register the sound of rafe's voice, your eyes snapped up at him, "i'm sorry, what was that?"

"i asked if you needed help walking back to my room."

"why would i be going to your room?" you questioned him, a bit thrown off by his firm tone.

"because you hit your head, it's getting late, and you don't have a way to drive home right now. plus, somebody needs to watch over you to make sure you're okay." he responded, his voice matter-of-fact.

"and that means i'm supposed to crawl into your bed and act like everything's normal?" you laughed humorlessly, the bubbling anger in the back of your mind beginning to rise again.

rafe brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose, pinching it as he took in a deep breath to keep his cool. "don't argue with me right now. you're not going home. you are going to get into bed and let me watch over you."

your shoulders slumped, you knew he was right. with a small huff you jumped down from the countertop, walking into his room and immediately going to his closet to grab one of his t-shirts to sleep in. rafe had followed behind you, not saying a word as you fell into what used to be your normal routine before bed with him.

he stripped down to his boxers while you wanted to hit your head against the wall, your heart betraying your brain as it began to race at the sight of his muscular body.

you rubbed your eyes, attempting to rid yourself of those thoughts before you crawled into your side of his bed. you couldn't help but wonder to yourself if anyone else had slept in this spot, your spot, since you broke up. the idea made you feel nauseated and had your skin crawling.

you shivered at the idea, turning over so that your back was to rafe. you knew you couldn't look at him, not when this felt far more intimate than you were comfortable with. your entire body lay stiff, the tension between you two could have been cut with a knife.

"rafe?" you whispered out, keeping your eyes focused on the small sliver of moonlight that seeped its way through his curtains.

"yeah, kid?"

"why'd you do it?" you felt adrenaline rush through your body, the type of feeling you get after you send a risky text and throw your phone away from you, wanting to know the response but also being terrified of what may be coming.

he was quiet for a moment, "do what?"

"cheat."

"i didn't... i didn't cheat on you." his voice held a vault of emotions. you couldn't bring yourself to face him, unknowingly missing the key to that vault, the way he looked at you like the thought of choosing someone over you would kill him.

"what were you doing with her then?"

"will you please look at me?" rafe's voice wavered slightly, the fear of you rejecting him was unmistakable.

you hesitated, your breath catching in your throat. it was easier to have this conversation when you couldn't see him, it was easier to pretend as though this was just in your head and not a part of your current reality. however, the way his voice wavered tugged at your heart. his vulnerability, that you'd missed so much, made you feel like you had to turn over.

once you moved so you were facing him, you could tell he was holding back his emotions. it was a look you were all too familiar with, one you'd seen many times when rafe would come to you after he'd been in a fight with ward. he always feared that crying made him weak, ward had instilled that into him from a young age, among other things.

he inhaled a shaky breath, "i-i would never cheat on you. i fucked up, badly, but not in that way."

you gave him a confused look, "what do you mean? and if you weren't cheating on me, then why did you let her touch you? why'd you look at her like that? you... you changed rafe. the last few months of our relationship you became a completely different person, you weren't the man i fell in love with."

he winced slightly at your words. "i know," he looked upset with himself, "i- i lost a lot of my dad's money. it was a stupid deal i thought i was in on and the guy ended up fucking me over. i started using again, but i didn't want you to know. i knew how disappointed you'd be. i thought i could just do it a couple times, to feel better. but that turned into me owing barry more and more money. he told me i could pay him back by working for him, selling at parties."

you were disappointed in him, disappointed that he didn't tell you sooner. "rafe... why didn't you say something? instead of leaving me in the dark, literally. i can't count on two hands the number of times i waited for you to come home, just to cry myself to sleep in your bed. this also doesn't explain what happened at the country club." your tone was firm, but not angry.

"her name is sofia. she saw me at one of top's parties and wanted to buy, but by the time she meant to, i'd left. i didn't like her touching me, but she wanted to buy a lot. it would have paid off a decent amount of money i owe."

you analyzed his face, his words, the tone of his voice, anything and everything to try and figure out if he was telling the truth. you knew the way his eyes would dart around the room when he lied, eye contact made it too hard for him, the way he'd pick at the skin around his fingernails as a distraction from the guilt that would arise in his stomach. he wasn't expressing any of his usual tells.

"have- have you been with anyone? since i left?" you asked nervously.

"no- god, no. baby, i've been a wreck. i... i stopped trying to reach out because i knew you needed space. i'm so sorry for how i treated you, i love you more than anything in the world." rafe professed to you, spilling out his emotions that could no longer be held back.

a tear slipped from the corner of his eye and you gently reached your thumb up to wipe it away. the way he leaned into your touch truly made the walls you'd built up crumble away. the small action was a bulldozer, taking them out like they were made of snow.

"i love you too, rafe. i just... i'm scared that you're going to drift away again. that broke me, i've been a shell of a person for the past month. i can't go through that another time." your voice came out just above a whisper, a sad smile on your face as a tear of your own fell down your cheek.

he shook his head, "i promise i won't shut you out again. i can't lose you. you're everything to me, i don't- i won't ever go through another day not talking to you."

he wrapped his large arms around you, pulling you close against his bare chest as he rested his chin on top of your head. you couldn't stop the tears that began falling. you'd be the world's worst liar if you said you didn't miss him, that this wasn't the only thing you'd truly wanted the last month, that you didn't love this man with your entire heart.

he placed a firm kiss on your hairline, "i love you."

"i love you too, rafe."

"let me make it up to you," he whispered against your forehead, moving you back slightly so he could look you in the eyes. you nodded, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible.

he gently flipped you over, laying you on your back as he crawled over you. his arms rested on both sides of your head, caging you in. he brought his rough thumbs to your cheeks, wiping the tears away and placing kisses were they once were.

"you're so beautiful, my perfect girl." he murmured against your skin. you felt a rush of electricity jolt through you, going straight to your core at his words.

his lips met yours. the initial kiss was gentle, sweet, and full of love. they quickly became heated though, the rough dance of your lips was full of unspoken words telling of how badly your bodies needed each other.

your hands moved up and down his torso. the feeling of his warm skin underneath your fingertips made your cheeks heat up. he lifted the hem of his shirt on you, breaking apart your kiss momentarily so he could take it off of you.

his lips went to your jawline, trailing down your neck and to your collarbone. he sucked on your sweet spot, undoubtedly leaving marks that you'd attempt to hide when you went home tomorrow.

your soft moans were a melody to his ears, his favorite song that he'd never get tired of hearing. his mouth moved down to your nipples. he gently took one between his teeth, applying just enough pressure to bring you a sensation of pain that was incredibly pleasureful. his hand reached up to your other nipple, twisting it between his fingers. you squeezed your thighs together, trying to bring yourself a little bit of relief.

rafe tsked, he pulled away from your tits, the loss of contact making you whimper. though he moved down, spreading your thighs apart as he left a trail of wet kisses down your stomach. he hovered over you, the spot you needed him most radiating heat.

he smirked at you, bringing his thumb to circle around your clit softly through your panties. "rafe, please," you whined out.

"please what, baby? use your words." he taunted.

"need you to touch me." your slightly swollen lips forming into a pout.

he couldn't deny you now, not when you looked so sweet, so needy, like an angel sent just for him. "that's my good girl." he said as he pulled down your last bit of clothing, revealing your wet cunt to him.

"such a pretty pussy." you couldn't tell if rafe was speaking to you or to himself. he gazed at your core like a starved man. in a swift motion, he brought his arms underneath your legs, hooking them over his shoulders as his lips attached to your clit. your breath caught in your throat, the moans that fell from your lips were impossible to silence.

he groaned as your fingers moved down to tug at his hair, the vibrations causing you to screw your eyes shut tightly. he could never, would never get tired of tasting you.

his cock throbbed against his boxers. he began grinding his hips against his mattress, you could have sworn it was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

"need you inside of me, please." you whined out, trying to pull him up closer to you. he pulled away from your dripping mess, meeting your lips with his. his tongue pried its way into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

you tugged at his boxers, moving the fabric down so his cock sprung out. the sight of him, red with pre-cum smeared around the tip, only encouraged you further. you pushed them as far down as you could reach and he helped you out by taking them off.

"lay back." he demanded, and you complied. he licked his lips at your nude body, "you're so perfect. all mine. my angel."

he grabbed his cock, pumping it a few times before he lined it up with your cunt. the initial push in stole your breath away. the stretch of him always taking you a moment to get used to. he moved slowly, hips going inch by inch until he was all the way inside of you.

"fuck, sweetheart. always so fuckin' good for me." he bit his lip as he groaned.

"please, rafe. need you to move." he didn't think he could deny you anything when you spoke like that, not that he would ever want to. he moved back, pulling away until just the tip remained inside of you, before thrusting back in all the way.

your back arched at the feeling. he filled you perfectly. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and both of your moans filled the room. they bounced off the walls, echoing your need for each other. he grabbed the backs of your knees, folding your legs up so you were nearly in half. the new position allowed him to reach a deeper angle.

"rafe, feels- feels so good. missed you s'much." he sped up his thrusts at your whimpers. he was overcome by the lust that swirled around his head, clouding his thoughts so he couldn't think of a single thing other than how amazing you felt wrapped around him.

when rafe brought his thumb down to your clit, you saw stars. you felt tears come to your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure.

"just like that, just like that, please. 'm so close." rafe's eyes rolled back at your pleas. the way you begged him made him pushed him closer and closer to his peak.

"cum for me, my sweet girl. cum around my cock, you've been doing so good f'me. i'm right behind you." his permission is what send you over the edge. your walls clenched around him as you threw your head back, your vision going white. you yelled out his name, telling the entire world that you were his and he was yours.

rafe was telling the truth, seconds after you fluttered around him he gave one last thrust into you. he held you close to him as his cock pulsed inside of you, filling you up with his cum.

"i love you. i love you. i love you." he moaned out as he orgasmed. his words were a promise to you. he's loved you since the day he met you, nothing could ever change that.

you both breathed heavily as he fell next to you. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to his chest as he kissed your forehead. you looked up at him, giving him a tired, but very satisfied, smile. he couldn't help but give you one in return. the rafe you'd missed so dearly was back, you saw him in the way he looked at you now.

"as badly as i don't want you to get up, you need to go pee." he reminded you gently, giving you a soft pat on your butt.

you groaned, "think you need to carry me. my legs aren't gonna work right now."

rafe let out a laugh, a genuine laugh. it was your favorite sound in the world, it made your heart flutter like you were a school girl who was just noticed by her crush for the first time.

he picked you up, walking you over to his bathroom as he set you down on the toilet. he cleaned himself up and put a clean pair of boxers on, grabbing a new t-shirt for you to sleep in.

that night you fell asleep in his arms. you didn't need to take a benzo to sleep. you didn't pass out with tear-stains on your cheeks or your throat sore from crying. you slept through the entire night, not once having a nightmare that ended in an explosive breakup between you and rafe. and in the morning, when you woke up, rafe was right next to you. he was asleep, his features being illuminated by the morning sun, his limbs tangled with yours, his gentle breathing that had his chest rising and falling beneath your head, it was all him. it was perfect. you couldn't stop the large smile that spread across your face, you could stay like this forever. mornings with him will always be your favorite, after all.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eleven: Fall Into Me and I'll Catch You Darlin'

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 5k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Joel is his own warning. Angst/despair, fluff, smut - this chapter has the works. Please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This is it, folks, the final chapter! Just the epilogue left now. Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. I have fallen in love with this little family and I hope you have as well.

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Ten | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Four days. Joel hadn’t left your bedside in four days, so immovable that the nurses took pity on him and asked an orderly to setup a cot for him in your hospital room.

You still hadn’t regained consciousness and Joel was losing his god damned mind over it.

The list of your injuries a mile long, among them a bunch of broken things – ankle, nose, ribs, wrist. That’s what you were right now, broken, and you had a hard road to recovery ahead of you. Joel agonized over your condition, freaking out when you had to go back into surgery shortly after coming out of it the first time. He’d barely laid eyes on you before they hauled you away again, machines beeping chaotically at whatever went wrong. You developed a hemorrhage, the doctor later told him, but they caught it in time.

Joel hadn’t stopped crying in four days, except for a brief time when Sarah was discharged. He held her for hours, trying his best not to smother or hurt her as she sat on his lap next to your bed. Aside from a purple cast on Sarah’s broken wrist, her limited injuries were already healing. Joel’s worry over his sweet little girl lessened a bit and he trusted Tommy, your dad, and your best friend, Emily, to watch over her while he sat vigil at your bedside. They brought Sarah by to see you twice a day, every day so far. Still, you hadn’t woken up.

He lost it the first time Sarah saw you lying there, barely recognizable from the injuries you sustained. Face bruised and swollen, body wrapped in casts or dressings. Sarah worried that you were dying, nearly inconsolable at the thought that you might die, might leave her, and her dad, forever. She couldn’t handle it, the thought of losing the only mom she’d ever known, ever wanted.

Joel had to leave the room at his daughter’s visceral expression of the pain she felt, her inconsolable weeping a reflection of his own anguish. He left Tommy to deal with it, and slid down the wall in the hallway, just a little way down from your room, shoulders shaking from the strength of his own sobs as the sound of Sarah’s caterwauling carried through the air. JB was the only one who could reach him through his pain, the understanding of one father for another as they both shed endless tears over you. He sat next to Joel, right there in the hallway, and wept with him, whispering words of praise of how strong you were, how much you loved them all, how you would pull through.

Joel fought hard to believe those words, to trust in JB’s hope as he was quickly losing his. He raged inside at how unfair life could be until he exhausted himself emotionally and fell into a dreamless daze in the cot next to you. When the sun rose above the horizon, he stopped trying to sleep, stopped pretending that he could while you remained unconscious.

“Come on, son. Go home and shower, take a nap in a real bed. You haven’t slept in days. I’ll watch over Spud, and you’ll be my first call if anything happens,” JB insisted the morning of day 5 at the sight of heavy bags beneath the younger man’s eyes.

Opening his mouth to argue, to adamantly refuse, Joel snapped it shut at the concerned look on your dad’s face. He gave into the exhaustion then, all the fight fleeing him, and he stood with shoulders hunched. He was completely deflated, emotionally and physically. “Ok, you’re right. I at least need a shower.”

“That you do. I could smell you down the hall.” Joel’s lips twitched at JB’s comedic effort, but he didn’t have it in him to smile or laugh. “Go on, git. Emily’s at your house with Sarah. She’ll stay while you nap – please try to get some sleep. I don’t want to see you for at least three hours, ya hear me, son?”

Joel nodded and kissed the small spot on your face free of bruising, slinking from the room with one last glance over his shoulder at you. He noticed how your dad kept calling him son – a new development since the accident and it warmed his heart in a way that he sorely needed during this torturous time.

The drive home a blur, his limbs functioning on muscle memory alone, Joel stumbled through the front door of his home with just enough energy to great Emily and Sarah.

“Joel!” Emily exclaimed, jumping from her spot on the couch to pull him into a tight hug. She adored him from the first second you introduced them, finding the man dreamy in that way that was a perfect match for you. It tore her apart to see him falling to pieces over your current condition. “JB commanded that I send you right to bed. Give Sarah a kiss then git goin’.”

Too drained to be disgruntled about being given orders in his own house, he swept Sarah up with tired limbs, ever mindful of her cast. “Hey baby girl. I love you. Have you been good for Miss Emily?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m always good. Is she any better?” Sarah asked in her sweet, young voice that pulled taut at his heartstrings.

“Not yet,” Joel choked on the words, unable to fight the tears stinging the back of his eyes at his daughter’s worried face. He set her down on the couch before trudging up the stairs. Aching to climb into bed – as empty and cold as it would be without you – but he jumped into the shower first to wash the past few days away.

If only it was that easy.

Joel collapsed on the unmade bed, barely managing to throw a pair of sleep pants on after the quick shower. He was dead asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

An hour later, he pried his eyes open, clutching to the warm body clinging to him. For a brief moment, his mind thought it just another normal morning waking up to you at his side. Reality crashed down on him, hard, before he even had the chance to enjoy the thought. Sarah’s frame clung to him like a spider monkey in her sleep. She must have joined him for a nap at some point and was still out cold.

Her steady breathing lulled him back to sleep for another couple hours until Emily woke him with a shout. Joel bolted upright at the echo of his name, heart thumbing in his chest as he jostled Sarah in the process.

“Joel!” Emily called again as she reached the top of the stairs and peeked into his bedroom. “She’s awake!”

Mind still fighting through the fog to wake up, he stared at your best friend with owlish eyes.

“JB just called. She’s awake! You gotta get back to the hospital!” Emily stepped fully into the room, tossing a pair of jeans and a tee shirt at him to get him moving.

“Dad!” Sarah’s uninjured hand nudging him into action as she exclaimed. “Can I come with you?”

Finally, Joel’s mind kicked into gear. You were awake. He had to see you, but first, he needed to get dressed. “Not yet, baby girl. Lemme see how she’s doing and maybe you can see her tomorrow. We don’t want to overwhelm her, okay?”

Flopping back onto the mattress with a pout, Sarah muttered, “Okay,” as Joel eased out of bed with a groan.

It started with muscle twitches. Fingers flexing. A small grimace creasing your battered face. The process to consciousness was a daunting one that ended with fighting against the intubation tube. Even once a nurse came in and removed the tube, you still fought to come fully back to yourself.

“Dad?” Throat dry and raw, you could do little more than croak despite the rising panic. Your eyes darted around the room in confusion, landing first on your dad before taking in the plain white walls and clinical equipment. You were in the hospital, that much was obvious, but you couldn’t recall why. A thick fog wove through your mind, leaving you trying to make sense of anything, everything.

“Hey Spud. Sleeping beauty finally awakens,” your dad teased, his voice gentle but, even with a foggy brain, you picked up on the worried undertone.

“What happened?” It hurt to talk but you needed to know.

“You don’t remember? Of course you don’t, you got a pretty good knock to the head,” he muttered half to himself before tenderly taking your hand between both of his. “You and Sarah were hit by a drunk driver. Does that ring a bell?”

Like a light bulb coming on, things came back to you, brightening the dark corners of your memory. The ride home from school, going to get ice cream, the sudden and unexpected impact as you proceeded through a green light, the car rolling once, twice, then… nothing. With the memory came your brain’s recognition of pain and your body’s aches made themselves well known.

Everything hurt.

Seriously, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, to lie still. It hurt to just fucking exist.

“Oh my God, Sarah? Is she okay? Where is she? Where is Joel?” You glanced around the room as if waiting for them jump out from behind something, the panic returning as you gulped for air.

“Calm down, honey. The little nugget is okay. She’s home, Emily’s watching over her now. Joel’s on his way back. I’ll let him tell you how she is, but just know that she’s fine.” JB spoke in short, clipped sentences, not wanting to overwhelm you further, one grizzled hand stroking your hair back like he did when you were sick as a kid.

You tried to sit up but abandoned that idea the moment the room spun, the throbbing pain too much. Fuck, your face hurt like hell.

“Don’t do that, Spud. While Sarah might be okay, you were seriously injured. I’ll let the doctor explain when he comes in, but you shouldn’t try moving or anything just yet. You’re pretty banged up,” he explained softly.

You met your dad’s eyes, and you could see at once the toll your condition took on him. You had so many questions, but you couldn’t process them quite yet. The pair of you sat quietly for a little while until the doctor joined you, explaining the laundry list of injuries you sustained. No wonder everything hurt. They gave you more medicine for the pain now that you regained consciousness – you couldn’t believe you were out for so long – and things started to make more sense in your brain.

You’d be stuck in the hospital for a few more days before the doctor would even think about discharging you. As much as hospitals sucked, you knew it best you stay put when you couldn’t even sit up with collapsing back in pain.

Joel burst into the room shortly after the doctor left. Sipping at a cup of water your dad held for you, you nearly choked at the sight of him. You’d never seen him look so disheveled, so run down, his normal scruff grown out into a near full beard after a week of not shaving, eyes bloodshot and sunken, curls a messy, wild halo around his head.

“Oh darlin’,” Joel said as you attempted to smile at him. The bandages covering portions of your face and the swelling from the repaired break in your nose made it hard, but your eyes sparkled with happiness at the sight of him.

“Hi Joel,” you croaked in return.

He practically launched himself at your side, knocking JB out of the way so he could sit bedside. Hands hovering, afraid to touch, tears glistened in his eyes. “I was so fuckin’ scared. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

Tears sprung to your own dry eyes as the fingers of your uninjured hand tangled with his. The mere tickle of tears in your nose was damn near excruciating. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Startled, Joel’s dark chocolate eyes searched your face, completely baffled. “Darlin’, what? What in the world are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You blubbered as Joel and your dad stared at you bewildered. “I almost got Sarah killed!”

Joel cracked a smile then, the first one in nearly a week, before leaning forward to place a tender kiss upon your chapped lips. “The hell you did. You didn’t do anything but take care of her. None of this was your fault, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t shake the guilt though, not even days later when the doctor discharged you. Sweet, little Sarah waited for you with a bright smile and a mylar ballon that read Welcome Home as Joel and JB helped you into the house. The sight of the purple cast on her right wrist wiped the smile from your face. How could Joel not see that this was all your fault?

You could hardly hug the girl as guilt overwhelmed you.

Emily and Tommy stood behind Sarah as you wobbled through the front door, smiles not hiding the winces at the healing trauma on your face. Emily could tell at once that you were on the verge of breaking down, unable to take your eyes from the healing contusions on Sarah’s adorable face or the cast on her wrist.

Stepping forward, Emily pulled you into a hug, ever mindful of your healing ribs and incisions. “It’s so good to see you awake and in one piece!” she whispered in your ear. “None of this was your fault, you know that right?”

She knew you too well. You choked on a sob, burying your head in her shoulder for several minutes until you had your emotions back under control.

“Do you wanna sign my cast? Daddy got special markers for it! I wouldn’t let anyone else sign it before you came home.” Sarah held a silver Sharpie up for you, flashing those puppy dog eyes at you. Unable to deny her, you took the marker with a trembling hand and drew a heart on the topside of the cast, your name scrawled sloppily beneath it.

Delighted, Sarah handed Joel the marker next and, with a quick glance at you, printed his name above the heart you drew, adding Sarah’s next to yours so that it now read Joel hearts you & Sarah. The tears returned when both Sarah and Joel gazed at you with unabashed affection.

Perhaps they really did not blame you for the accident, for Sarah’s broken wrist, for all that you put them through in the past week and a half. You weren’t sure if you deserved their love, but you basked in it, allowing it to wash over you and heal your soul.

Six weeks of convalescing at home under the tender care of Joel and Sarah, and you finally felt like yourself again, emotionally, and physically. It took a while, but Joel managed to convince you to set free the irrational guilt you felt over the accident, aided by the news that the drunk driver pleaded guilty.

Wanting to celebrate your recovery and the removal of your and Sarah’s casts, Joel planned a small gathering for July 4th. Just the Millers, JB, Emily and her husband, and Maria – the attorney Tommy fell head over heels for last year finally gave into his advances and they were happily living together now. She was a gem and fell right in with the group, giving as good as she got.

“Darlin’, just put that down, I’ll get it,” Joel insisted as you pulled a plate full of raw steaks from the fridge.

“Joel, I’m not a delicate little flower who will break under the weight of a few steaks,” you teased lovingly. Placing the plate on the counter, you turned to Joel and slipped your arms around his neck. Fingers threading through his curls, you pulled his head down, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

Joel’s large hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass as the kiss intensified. “Mmmm, I love you, darlin’,” his deep voice rumbled against your mouth. A knock sounded on the front door as he placed another kiss on your lips. “Now, let me take care of this while you welcome our guests.”

Before long, everyone gathered in the backyard. Your dad, Joel, and Emily’s husband Ed stood around the grill while Joel cooked the steaks and Sarah showed off her swimming skills to Maria and Tommy. You and Emily sat on the patio with glasses of sangria just watching everyone you love.

“I know I’ve said it a million times already but thank you again for being there for them after the accident,” you said as you watched Joel manning the grill with confidence. “I know it couldn’t have been easy and I just want you to know that I appreciate you.”

“Always, that’s what friends are for.” Emily smiled at you. “You really got somethin’ good here, you know. That man, he was a complete wreck while you were in the hospital. And that little girl, she worships the ground you walk on. Those two would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for them.”

You heard from your dad how hard Joel struggled while you were in the hospital, how he barely slept, refused to leave your side. Emily reiterated it all and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you would have done the same if anything happened to him or Sarah.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” you said after taking a sip of the fruity red wine concoction. “I can’t imagine my life without them in it.”

“That’s good, really good.” Too busy making googly eyes at Joel, you missed the knowing look Emily shot you.

“She can’t keep her eyes off you, son,” JB teased. “You ready to do the thing?”

“What thing is that?” Ed asked curiously.

“Imma ask her to marry me,” Joel mumbled, already feeling a little nervous. “I got the ring in my pocket, just waiting for the right moment.”

“Good on ya, man!” Ed replied. Turning to JB, he added, “I take it he has your blessing?”

Nodding, JB grinned at his future son-in-law as he replied, “He sure as hell does. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to take care of my little Spud.”

A flush rose along Joel’s neck and moved onto his cheeks at the praise. “Alright, alright. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t wanna risk her overhearing something. I want it to be a surprise.”

The other two men nodded in understanding. “Just one last thing,” Ed said. “You should ask her during the fireworks. I brought my good camera; I’ll make sure to get great shots of it for you and the fireworks will just add to the ambiance.”

The steaks were grilled to perfection, Joel nailing that medium rare sear that you loved, and Maria’s macaroni salad was a hit. Once everyone devoured their food, you jumped into the pool, letting the water ease the lingering ache in your bones while your dad and Emily insisted on helping Joel clean up. Before long, everyone else joined you in floating around to kill time before the town’s fireworks show began. The house was perfectly situated to see them from a distance, so you didn’t have to fight the traffic to find parking in town to see the show.

Drinking in the sight of Joel shirtless, swim trunks sitting low on his hips, you licked your lips hungrily. He dove into the deep end of the pool, swimming underwater until he reached you in the shallow end. Popping up next to you, he slicked his wet curls back from his forehead with a grin. Fuck, he was handsome.

“Hey beautiful,” Joel greeted. “Enjoying yourself?”

Smile so broad your cheeks hurt, you nodded. “Today has been wonderful, thank you, Joel. This was exactly what I needed.”

“I’d do anything for you, darlin’. You know that, right?” he implored, pulling you close so that you could wrap your legs around his waist beneath the water’s surface. “I’ve never been so in love before. You have completely changed my world.”

“I could say the same about you, babe.”

“The fireworks are gonna start soon. Watch to watch them from the patio?”

“Sure,” you replied. So caught up in Joel, you didn’t notice everyone watching you both with broad smiles as the two of you climbed out of the pool.

Settling into one of the cushioned outdoor chairs, the soft glow of the string lights from that special date all those months ago glistening on your damp skin. Joel moved his chair closer and sat, holding his right hand out for yours, he grinned when you twined your fingers with his.

Suddenly, Tommy appeared in front of you both, carrying a fresh glass of sangria for you and an ice-cold beer for Joel. “Here you both go.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you said gratefully.

“You ready?” he asked, his dark eyes glowing warmly in the low lighting.

“For the fireworks?” you replied, slightly confused. “You bet!”

Tommy smiled indulgently, sharing a look with Joel before moving to the poolside to help his girlfriend out of the water.

Glancing around at your friends and family, you found everyone watching the two of you. You had the feeling something was up, that there was something you were missing. Before you could dwell on it, the first bursts of light exploded in the sky, the whistling boom echoing distantly.

Mesmerized by the show, oohing and ahhing with everyone, you didn’t see Joel slip from his seat to kneel next to you. As the finale began, he said your name, drawing your attention away from the sky.

An audible gasp left your lips as he gazed at you, love lighting up his tanned features. Your eyes darted around the yard to find everyone watching you instead of the fireworks, Ed snapping away with that fancy camera of his.

“Joel, what—” you began breathlessly before he cut you off.

“Do you remember that song we danced to, right here in the yard, beneath these very lights?” His smooth voice gave no hints of the nervous energy flowing beneath his skin.

You nodded, recalling the memory fondly. “That was a beautiful night.”

“It was, and I hope to have many more just like it with you.” Still kneeling, he reached his left hand into his pocket and your breath hitched. Your heart nearly dropped when you merely pulled his phone out, tapping at the screen until music began to play in the background.

Taking your hands in his, Joel began to sing along, his deep voice the perfect contrast to the artist’s.

“On the day that I met you,

The world had just spit me out.

On my way to the bottom

Sure I’d never be found.

Then you saw me for me

Made me believe in myself.

On the day that I met

It all turned around.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes, but for the first time in weeks, they were tears of happiness, not pain or guilt. You clutched at Joel as he went to pull his right hand free, and he chuckled.

“I fall more in love with you every single day. I don’t know how I ever got to be this lucky, to find someone like you, who fits so perfectly, so seamlessly into mine and Sarah’s lives.”

You finally loosened your grip so he could pull his right hand free, digging into the zippered pocket as you swiped at the tears coursing down your face.

“You are the woman of my dreams, the one I was sure didn’t exist until I met you. If I promise to fall for you over and over again, will you promise to be my wife, to be Sarah’s mom, to love us from now until forever?”

Gazing into his dark, gorgeous eyes, misty with tears of his own, you nodded. “Yes, yes. A million times, yes, Joel. I’d love to be your wife and Sarah’s mom.”

You were sobbing as he beamed, slipping a beautiful, understated princess cut diamond ring on your finger. It fit perfectly and your heart swelled, the love in you threatening to spill over, to burst straight from your chest. “Joel, it’s so beautiful!”

Joel stood, pulling you with him until your feet left the ground and he spun you in a circle once, twice, before setting you down on solid ground. You lurched forward, sealing your love, your promise with a heated kiss.

As if they hadn’t all witnessed every second of what just happened, Joel looked over at everyone and declared, “She said yes!”

The small group of your favorite people made a racket with their whoops and whistles, JB shouting above the rest, “About fuckin’ time, son!”

Unable to contain herself for another second – she had been incredibly patient, after all, letting her dad do the asking instead of her – Sarah burst from Tommy’s grasp, launching herself at you. Joel helped you sweep her up for a tight hug.

“It’s official now, right?” Sarah questioned, nearly vibrating with excitement. “You’re gonna be my mom now. I finally get to have a mom and not just any mom, but you. The best one I could have asked for.”

Just when you thought the tears ebbed away, the waterworks started once again. “Oh, my sweet, perfect girl. I promise to try my best to be worthy of such an honor. I couldn’t have asked for a better girl to go on this adventure with.”

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Emily said, her voice catching as tears ran down her cheeks as well.

“Agreed,” Maria chimed in with a sniffle and Tommy pulled her close with a dumb grin spreading across his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about how he’d propose when the time came.

You and Joel couldn’t keep your hands off each other once Sarah went to bed and everyone left. Your need for each other was too mighty to fight, not that either of you wanted too anyway. He treated you like glass the past six weeks, afraid to hurt you, to aggravate your injuries. You understood, but that didn’t stop the desire, the need for him and it frustrated you that he would not give in. Now that you were mostly healed, you wanted him to make love to you like he used to.

Readying yourselves for bed, you climbed onto the mattress, straddling Joel’s hips where he laid back against the pillows. Half hard already at the mere sight of you naked before him, he grasped your hips to grind your core down on him.

“I need you, my love. I need to feel you inside me. It’s been too long,” your voice a breathy whine against his mouth, your lips touching but not yet kissing. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel gasped as you shifted against his now fully hardened cock. “Take what you want, sweetheart.” He watched with lust blown eyes as you slid his sleep pants down his hips, and he kicked them off to lay in a pile at the bottom of the bed.

So wet and needy, you didn’t even need foreplay. Sealing your mouth to his, you swallowed his groan as you slid down on his cock. Pausing for a moment once he was balls deep inside you, fingers threaded through his luscious curls, you sighed in contentment.

“I feel so fucking full, Joel,” you moaned, finally starting to move. “I’ve missed this so much.”

Joel gazed at you, completely enraptured and unable to speak. The words stuck in his throat, he just watched you move on him, his hips shifting upwards to meet your movements. It felt so good he knew he wouldn’t last long, shifting his hand between you to pluck at your clit as you rode him.

“Come for me, darlin’. I need to feel you come apart around me,” the words burst from deep in his chest, dripping with need as he got closer to the edge. Thumb moving frantically against your clit in that way that drove you crazy, he made you come apart within minutes.

“Fuck, Joel!” you gasped, burying your face in his shoulder, biting down on the flesh to stifle your moans. Waves of pleasure washed over you so strong you couldn’t move your hips anymore. Joel took over, thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm as your walls fluttered around him.

You sunk your teeth further into the meat of his trapezius, the shock of pain like a bolt of lightning straight to his cock. His movements grew sloppy as his balls tightened and he came with a guttural growl, sucking at your neck as rope after rope of cum splashed inside you.

Breathless and satiated, you stayed in place, allowing the aftershocks to roll through you both. You brought your hands up to cup his face, the patchy scruff of his beard tickling your palms. The diamond ring on your left hand sparkled in the dim lighting and you grinned down at Joel, so full of love.

He pulled you down to lay with him, his softening cock slipped out of you in the process, and you both ignored the mess as you cuddled together.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” You felt the words rumble from deep in his chest as he spoke them, pulling you impossibly closer until your sweaty skin melded to his. “I fuckin’ love you, darlin.”

Smiling sleepily, you murmured your love for him, your excitement over being engaged, the beauty of the ring he chose for you, until you fell asleep mid-sentence.

Your dreams were no match for the life you and Joel were creating together.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

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[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ bestfriend’s to lovers hc’s

warnings: nsfw mentions, mentions of violence.

: ̗̀➛ if y/n had to describe her friendship with rafe cameron, it would certainly be partners in crime.

: ̗̀➛ they’d been best of friends for years, ever since they met on the playground. he’d found her crying underneath the climbing frame because jason todd said she was ugly.

: ̗̀➛ for rafe, that was it. the was the moment he decided he was going to stick by her side forever, and he did.

: ̗̀➛ and you can put money on him going and beating the ever living shit out of jason todd for what he did. if anything, it became a life long vendetta, rafe never forgot what he did, not even by the time he and y/n turned 19.

: ̗̀➛ but nevertheless, it sealed the deal. he protected her life his life depended on it, and she’d attempt to keep him away from trouble.

: ̗̀➛ it was so undeniably opposites attract like you’d never seen opposites attract. y/n was just a small, harmless little girl. and rafe? well, he was rafe, a snarky little boy who enjoyed getting into trouble.

: ̗̀➛ ward and rose adored her more and more throughout the years, she was always welcome at tannyhill.

: ̗̀➛ they saw her influence on rafe, and hoped she’d knock some sense into him when she could.

: ̗̀➛ they also saw her unbelievable kindness, she was always down to help around the house if she could or if wheezie needed help with homework.

: ̗̀➛ she’d even be there when rafe wasn’t, just so she could hang out with his family.

: ̗̀➛ “you scared the shit out of me!”

: ̗̀➛ “i’m part of the furniture rafe, i’m literally always here”

: ̗̀➛ when they reached the ages of parties, alcohol, drugs and sex, they experienced everything together.

: ̗̀➛ they were each others first kiss, they did their first line of cocaine together, their first drink together, when i say everything, i mean everything.

: ̗̀➛ things got a bit sticky when it came to sex, when they were 16, rafe was already a mouth watering sight, he was tall and muscular, what girl wouldn’t want him? so there he was, a new girl on his arm

: ̗̀➛ and y/n was physically gifted too, a beautiful face and prominent curves, but she was a lot more reserved, she didn’t want to give away her virginity to just anyone.

: ̗̀➛ so when it came down to it, and she’d been made to feel insecure about it, rafe offered to be her first.

: ̗̀➛ “i..are you sure?”

: ̗̀➛ “of course i’m sure y/n”

: ̗̀➛ they both pinky promised each other it wouldn’t be weird after, and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

: ̗̀➛ and it didn’t, but feelings certainly blossomed after.

: ̗̀➛ the next few months we’re filled with burning jealousy and rage for one another, seeing the other flirt with other people.

: ̗̀➛ around this time, little arguments ensued as they discreetly sabotaged the others relationships.

: ̗̀➛ “did you tell rachel i had an std?”

: ̗̀➛ “what? no of course not..”

: ̗̀➛ “rafe! you can’t just beat the shit out of any boy that gets close to me!”

: ̗̀➛ “i didn’t like the look of him…”

: ̗̀➛ it wasn’t until sarah had to mediate one of their bigger arguments that they were finally confronted by their growing feelings for one another.

: ̗̀➛ “can you guys just kiss and make up already? it’s about time..”

: ̗̀➛ and that’s exactly what happened.

: ̗̀➛ as they stared at each other, the initial anger of the situation slowly dissipating, they both leaned in, their lips connecting aggressively.

: ̗̀➛ rafe’s hands lingered on her waist as her found their way onto his face, cupping his jaw as she deepened the kiss.

: ̗̀➛ “i love you, i always have..”

: ̗̀➛ the pair were even more powerful in a relationship as they were before.

: ̗̀➛ having finally admitted and confronted their feelings, they need to protect one another only grew.

: ̗̀➛ wherever y/n went, rafe was never far. whether she was working a shift at the island club, or shopping around town, he’d always be lurking, scanning the people around them for potential threats.

: ̗̀➛ she found it particularly amusing whenever someone tried to hit on her, entirely oblivious to the 6’2 giant sneaking behind them, observing his prey.

: ̗̀➛ together, they were like a punch. y/n was the swing, the split second you have to dodge the incoming impact. rafe was definitely the punch, he’d lost count of the amount of people he’d beaten to a pulp just for looking at her, never-mind attempting to talk to her.

: ̗̀➛ both of their parents would watch on in awe as the two spent time together at one another’s houses. admiring the love they had for each other at such a young age.

: ̗̀➛ and it certainly wasn’t coming to an end any time soon.

[nikethestatue]

Rant incoming.

Maybe I am a bit of a psycho (okay, not a bit) but for the love of God and all that is holy--Sarah, give us the Shadowsinger that you keep hinting at.

I need at least ONE of these men to go dark. Go fucking black.

We keep hearing about the violence, the terror, the sheer presence of them that would make a grown man piss his pants---but we never see it?

The one and ONLY time where I feel it happened (and marginally too) was when Rowan skinned (not gonna say who) alive.

But it's kind of like--if SJM insists on making all these men ruthless warriors, torturers, the most powerful Fae in the kingdom or the world or whatever--then SHOW IT. Show us the men we are supposed to crave and fear.

We had Hunt, the Umbra Mortis, who barely ever 'mortis-nized' anyone ever. He was just a himbo who wanted to eat pizza and watch sunball.

Cassian, the Commander General, had one good run during the war and then became a human dildo.

Azriel cut the Attor a lil bit.

Give me the scary. The unhinged. I don't need cinnamon rolls. I want one of these dudes to rip out someone's heart and then fuck his ladylove on top of the corpse.

I am also so so so tired of the 'girl Power woooo!' thing that SJM keeps writing--where the women always take care of business and need no help, no protection, no revenge, no assistance from the men whatsoever. Why even bother making these men these illustrious warriors, when we know that Nesta can kill a Death God in 10 minutes, and Bryce can kill an Asteri in about 8 minutes.

I am beginning to wonder what is the point of men in SJMs' stories at all?

We had the 'Most Powerful High Lord In History' running around dropping to his knees, looking for a good OBGYN for all of ACOSF. We had the Commander General taking lots and lots of time from his clearly not very busy schedule to train some girlies and have repetitive sex. Lucien, not much of a warrior to begin with, just hangs out at his country manor. Azriel seems to be working at least, but mostly he is just being angsty.

Like there's been a shipwar raging for 3.5 years over these guys, and honestly, for what? Azriel is a spy, a torturer and 'a freak'. If it all ends up being for nothing, and he is just going to be some pining useless follower, carrying Elain's purse, whose 'freakiness' consists of light spanking and a nipple bite, then honestly, GAs or whoever, can have him.

I feel like 90% of all ACOTAR readers came to the series through Rhys. Because Rhys was so shifty. So cold. So unremorseful. Rhys was...INTERESTING.

What happened? Where are the interesting male characters? We know that SJm is not GRR Martin or anything, but come on.

Let's even take Lucien--and I don't give a shit about Lucien--but make Lucien...interesting? If he is so wily and crafty, why can't Lucien at least TRY to trick Elain into liking him, going out with him on a date? ANYTHING. Try to gaslight her, lie to her, trick her--do anything that makes me want to read about you. Eluciens keep whining about 'mean Elain' but like, why are they satisfied with this limp noodle of a painfully boring character? Why no demands of fucking everyone over and going after what he wants? 'Oh, he is so respectful'! Who cares? Why do you want to read that in a fantasy book about supposedly violent and brilliant fairies?

I am reading all kinds of things outside of ACOTAR, and I reflect and I think, OMG, SJMs males are boring AF!!!! Why do they even inspire a glimmer of desire or interest? They literally do nothing memorable or interesting.

Honestly, if the next book is the same, and she murders Azriel's character, it will be a big fat goodbye from me.

I am holding on to hope that she'll write him and even Lucien somehow, somewhat compellingly.

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xi

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: I'm not even gonna be poetic about this: Joel and reader lie to themselves and others about their feelings for 5.6k words. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: ANGST. Description of panic attacks/anxiety. Referenced death of family members/romantic partners. Implied bisexual reader. Alcohol consumption, hangovers. smoking. Canon-typical suffering. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: Wanted to give game Joel a little love with the gif choice, ya feel me? I've been excited to write this chapter for months and I ultimately feel like it flopped so hard, it just did not come together the way I envisioned. It's also my last week of work for awhile I'm honestly feeling very burnt out so I'm in a 'fuck it, i don't have the energy to make it perfect' mood, BUT - It’s a lot of backstory/development that I do think is necessary. Next chapter shit will go down tho so get ready.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-April 10, 2024-

Joel reaches out to clutch the patio railing. His chest is tight, like someone’s stitched his ribs together so they won’t expand fully every time he tries to inhale. Each breath wheezes in and out of him, and his head spins. 

None of this feels real. It can’t be real. And if he’s asleep, he can’t decide if he’s in a dream or a nightmare.

That’s until he hears his name. 

“Joel!” 

Her voice is like a jolt of electricity, shocking his body back into equilibrium. He finds Ellie standing behind him when he looks over his shoulder, Tommy walking up the pathway to the front door, brow furrowed. 

“We literally only got here like one week ago, you can’t die already,” Ellie scolds him, and he knows that the jab is meant to be playful. “Woah, are you okay?” she asks when they lock eyes. 

Joel straightens, squaring up with Tommy, fully prepared to give him a piece of his mind, for throwing him into the deep end with nothing to stay afloat. 

“Who was that?” Ellie is completely oblivious. 

Even if he wanted to answer the question, he still probably couldn’t. It had taken him a moment to even recognize who you were, that’s how long it’s been. And he hadn’t even really gotten a good look. It only clicked when you’d taken off your glasses, and when it’d registered, and then he’d seen the kid next to you, he’d panicked. Joel brushes past Ellie, shoving his brother with one hand in the center of his chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

Tommy recoils at the contact, something pained and confused crossing his expression. “I…. I thought you’d be happy to see that she’s still alive.” 

Joel doesn’t answer, just glowers at him. He’s still unable to make sense of the questions swirling around in his mind, each one seemingly more important than the last. 

Of course it’s good that you're alive. At one point, he had tried to find you. It was after Sarah, after he’d tried to- he can’t even think about how foolish that had been. At the time, the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that provided him with even the slightest bit of hope for the future. But the search had been fruitless. 

After a while, Joel decided that you were dead. It didn’t matter whether or not you were. He’d seen the unspeakable pain humans were capable of inflicting on each other and then when he’d gotten involved with some hunters, became the cause of all that pain. If you were alive…it meant those horrible things were happening to you. You were better off dead. 

It also kept his conscience clear. After he’d done what he had done, he knew if he ever saw you again, he wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes. And he was right. You knew a version of him that no longer existed. 

“Joel,” Ellie interjects. He’d nearly forgotten she was there, still lost in his shock and rage. 

“Ellie, go inside,” he quips. 

“Can’t I just-”

“Inside. Right now. ” Joel hasn’t used such an aggressive snarl with her since they first left for the Boston QZ, and he turns to look at her just in time to see her face crumple, before she turns and marches up the stairs. He immediately feels bad, but unfortunately, this is just how things go with every person he cares about these days. He hurts them, then they hurt him, and it equals out, only ending when one of them decides to leave. 

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy scolds, but he doesn’t care. 

“How long?” 

“What?”

“How long have you known she’s alive? That she has a fuckin’.....” Joel feels something get caught in his throat. “...a fuckin’ kid.”

“That’s her nephew,” Tommy says matter-of-factly, as if it was supposed to be obvious. As if Joel wasn’t just grappling with the idea that he had a twenty year old son he’d never known about, and feeling guilty that you’d been alone with him this whole time. “But I guess I can see where you’d think that.” 

Now that you’re on Joel’s mind, he does recall you mentioning your nephew a few times. Maybe you even had a picture of him hanging on your fridge, and he had pegged how you had the same smile. He’s a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, but it doesn’t mean he’s done being angry. 

“Shit,” Tommy rubs his beard. “They’ve been here for like three years. It’s been awhile.”

“Three years?” Joel asks, a whole new wave of anger reappearing. “And you didn’t think to fuckin’ tell me all this time?”

“You know the rules. We aren’t allowed to use the radio.” 

“What about when I was here in the winter?” Joel asks stiffly. 

“I just…figured it’d be a shock-

“And why would you think that, Tommy?” Joel raises his voice. 

Tommy holds out his hands, lowering them slightly as if to tell Joel to settle down. Then he nods towards the house. Ellie. “You had a lot going on with that whole situation. I didn’t want to distract you.”

Joel would never admit it, but that was probably a smart decision for Tommy to make. He remembers how uncertain and scared he’d been when he first stopped in Jackson. But Joel still tries to think of a way to keep the argument going, because he doesn’t want to give Tommy any sort of props for how he’s chosen to break this news to him.

“I thought you’d be happy she’s alive, really, I mean you both-”

Joel holds up his hand. “Enough, Tommy. It was so long ago…I barely remember.”

Tommy frowns, gives him a knowing look. “Really?” 

Joel sniffs, crosses his arms. 

“Well, I remember,” Tommy says. “And she was always good to you.”

Joel doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t have anything else to say, and at this point, he just wants Tommy to leave.

“Work through whatever you have to,” Tommy says. “But don’t be an asshole. You should work on that, in general. Or else I’ll have to keep explaining your behavior.”

“Glad I’ve got you looking out for me,” Joel says dryly.  “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Fine.” Tommy shakes his head, backs away.

His brother doesn’t say goodbye as he stuffs his hands in his coat pocket and walks down the street. Joel stays in place, alone on the front porch, until his hands relax from the fists they are clenched in and his anger turns to shame. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 19, 2024-

You close the locket and place it back inside the old lunch pail full of tchotchkes and other memorabilia. It’s a fairly empty box, over the years you’ve found that the things you hold onto are either lost or left behind, not unlike the people you’ve met. You swipe away the tears in your eyes. 

Bea had always said it was important to give yourself the space to grieve, to let yourself feel whatever it was that you needed to. It’s advice that you don’t want to take from her right now because you’re pissed at her for being gone. Not that it had been her fault. And also because you know if you don’t stick to a routine it’s very easy to backslide. 

In the bathroom, you hurry to splash cold water on your face, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. Before the outbreak, there was nothing more terrifying than getting old. Now, as you study the new lines and wrinkles on your face, the scar on your bottom lip, the gray strands in your hair, it doesn’t scare you at all. It seemed frivolous that looks were something you’d been so concerned about when you were younger. But you suppose you didn’t have much else to worry about. There was something pretty freeing about being older, that you can be content without being concerned about whether or not someone will find you attractive. And really, getting old means you’re still alive. That’s all that matters. 

You are concerned with the red in the whites of your eyes, but hope they’ll fade by the time you get to Maria’s. 

Grappling with the fact that Joel is still alive has dredged up a lot. Since it had been about a week since your reunion – if you could even call it that – on your front porch, and you’d seen him one other time. The first time, you’d sort of understood why he’d ran off. But you guessed you kind of expected him to come around eventually. He didn’t. 

Just a few days earlier you’d been walking through the town square, and he’d been headed your direction with that teenage girl who Tommy has since told you is named Ellie. She was giggling at something, and Joel even had a slight smile on his face, but when he saw you, it disappeared, and he pulled Ellie to the opposite side of the street. It was clear now that he was intentionally trying to avoid you, which….didn’t feel great. 

That was an understatement. Having Joel back made you realize just how lonely you were. It had taken some time after arriving in Jackson for you to grieve your partner of nearly ten years, so it hadn’t really dawned on you that at some point you might crave a deeper level of intimacy that your friendships couldn’t offer. But you had already had it twice, so you supposed that was better than nothing at all. Plus, your number one priority had been, and always would be making sure Ethan was provided for. 

So what exactly were you expecting from Joel? Not that, of course. But maybe some kind of closure after all those years spent apart. Some kind of acknowledgement of your time spent together. 

When the outbreak first happened, you had spent a lot of time being angry. With Joel and Sarah, the possibility of being normal had been dangled in front of you. You realized you had wanted to be loved after being convinced by your father – and yourself – that you didn’t deserve it. Then, the second you acknowledged that you wanted it anyways, the world had literally ended. It was a little egocentric, but it sort of felt like a sign that your dad had been right all along. Some women aren’t meant to be part of a family.

Of course, Bea had proved that wrong. But losing the people you loved became a pattern. And you even to this day, you alternated between believing that it was the unfortunate reality of life, or that it was your destiny to never get what you wanted. 

Regardless, even if the way Joel is acting has caused you more turmoil than you are willing to admit, you’re not going to follow him around and beg to get back into his good graces. That’s never been your style. 

You’re tidying up the kitchen, getting ready to leave, when Ethan shuffles into the room. It’s nearly noon. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you say to him as drags his socked feet across the hardwood.

He grumbles his greeting and tilts his head at the bag you’re adjusting over your shoulder, as if to ask where you’re headed.

“I’m going to Maria’s,” you say. “Then I have to meet with Eugene.” 

He makes a noise of affirmation, still half-asleep, and slumps into a kitchen chair. When you look at him closely, you see the dark circles beneath his glassy eyes, his face pale. 

“You alright, honey?” you ask, putting your bag back on the countertop and approaching him. “Do you have a fever?” when you reach to press the back of your hand to his cheek he swats it away weakly. He doesn’t feel warm.

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his arms on the countertop and burying his face in them. “I just have a headache.”

“Yeah?” you say. “You were out late last night.”

“Derek and I went to the Tipsy Bison,” his voice is muffled. 

Everything clicks into place. “Oh. Were you overserved?” 

He turns his head, but doesn’t lift it. With how long his hair has gotten, most of his face is obscured. “Maybe. But before I get a lecture, don’t worry – I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m not gonna lecture you,” you’re almost offended. “Is this really your first hangover?”

“I mean….probably not. But it’s definitely the worst.” 

“Well now you know your limits,” you say, crossing the room to pour him a glass of water and get some ibuprofen from the long-expired bottle you keep in a cabinet.

“Maybe if we were allowed to drink when we were with Bea, I would’ve learned that sooner.”

You let Ethan’s get his dig in at the last community you’d lived with before Jackson. The more time you’d spent here, the more time he’d had to convince himself that what you’d gotten yourselves into was terrible. Because you had more of a complex perspective on it, it was the one subject you avoided speaking to each other about. 

Ethan is similar to Vincent in that while he’s very sensitive, he also seems to enjoy being an instigator. Of course, spending all of his life fighting to survive in a world that wants him dead has only intensified that. Bea had been good at helping him manage his temper when he was a teenager and it became too much for you to handle. But besides that, he doesn't get into much trouble, so you aren’t going to chastise him. 

“Drink this, and take these.”

He groans, but reaches out for the aspirin and water, nursing it down with small sips. You bite back a smile. The both of you have endured much worse than a hangover, but there’s something cathartic about seeing him experience the plights of a normal twenty-something. 

“Are you hungry?”

“If I eat anything, I think I will vomit,” he lays his head back down. 

You consider asking him if he wants you to stay so you can look after him, but decide that you don’t want to encourage the habit too much. Instead, you reach out and brush a strand of hair off his cheek so you can see him more clearly, and he closes his eyes. “I bet you’ll feel better in a couple hours. Drink water. It’ll help.”

He blinks up at you, seemingly unconvinced. “I saw that guy yesterday. The weird one.” 

“What guy?”

“Tommy’s brother. What’s his name?”

“Joel?” you ask, and pretend that saying his name doesn’t almost make you shiver. 

“Yeah,” he says. “He was with Tommy at the stables. Guess they’re making him a ranger.”

“Hm.”

“I know you knew him before or whatever, but he’s definitely a weirdo. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”

The whatever in his sentence is doing a lot of heavy lifting. You roll your eyes, but not maliciously. “Well, he did just get here.” You definitely don’t owe Joel anything, so you surprise yourself by defending him. 

Ethan almost ignores your response, winces, turns his head back into his arms and grumbles something to the effect of I’m dying. 

“Rest up,” you ruffle his hair and kiss the top of his head, like you’ve been doing since before he could walk, and it’s hard to stop even though sometimes it annoys him. Right now, he doesn’t protest. “I’ll bring you home some soup from the mess hall. Take it easy.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s Tommy who lets you in once you arrive at Maria’s. She’s upstairs with the baby, he says, and tells you to wait in the living room, before you hear her frantic voice calling out for him to come help her. 

His footsteps retreat up the stairs, and you hover in the entrance to the living room, your eyes inexplicably drawn to the chalkboard with 

You glance at the little memorial that Tommy had made for Sarah and Kevin, Maria’s son. Even though you’ve seen it a million times at this point, the sight of her name, the date of her passing – the same day as Joel’s birthday – makes your stomach sink. 

That’s when you notice that you’re not alone. Sitting in a chair in the corner is the girl that you’d seen accompanying Joel. You hadn’t actually been properly introduced, you realized, and she’s staring at you like she doesn’t know what to do. She’s a cute kid, a teenager if you had to guess, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. 

Based on how he’s been acting, you can’t imagine what Joel has told her about you. Probably nothing good. So you give her a nod and a small smile, before crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. 

Surprisingly, the bit of sincerity seems to warm her up a little. “I’m Ellie,” she says.

You nod again, and give her your first name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Sorry I didn’t get the chance the other day.”

She shrugs. “It didn’t seem like that was your fault.”

You let your arms drop to your sides, straighten up. “Did you uh…come to see the baby or something?” 

Ellie shakes her head no. “I’m waiting for Tommy. He’s gonna take me to see the school.” 

“Oh, that’s nice.” 

“Not really,” she says. “I think school is fucking stupid. But everyone says I have to go, because all the other kids in town do, too.”

Ethan was grown when you arrived in Jackson, and you didn’t have children of your own, so it was the one place you didn’t really frequent. “Well, you probably should but….I hear you.”

There’s an almost imperceptible smile that crosses her features. You turn your head back to stare at the staircase, waiting for the sound of Maria’s footsteps, but all you can hear is her and Tommy whispering with frantic energy as they try to put their son down for a nap. 

“You know Joel won’t tell me anything about you,” Ellie’s voice cuts in, and you turn back towards her. “But you knew him before, didn’t you?”

You’re not sure how to take this information, or…how to respond to it. So you keep your response simple. “I mean, we were neighbors.” But even that feels like a lie, and a useless one to tell. Maybe it’s a little petty, but you don’t owe it to Joel to keep his secrets, especially not after he’s treated you so poorly. So you tell her the truth. “I guess he was also…my boyfriend for a little while.”

Ellie seems taken aback by this. “What happened? Did you break his heart or something?”

“No,” you snort. “We got separated before the outbreak.” 

“Oh.” She ponders for a moment. “So then why is he so mad?”

You shrug. “I’ll let you know if I find out.” 

“Well, he’s an asshole. But I bet you already know that,” Ellie says. 

Based on the time you actually spent with Joel, you would’ve never described him that way. So if that’s really how he’s perceived, even by the people who care about him, it makes you a little sad. Losing Sarah must have changed him more than you could imagine. 

You’re already sick of thinking about him so much, so you change the subject to something that’s at least a little lighter. “How did the two of you end up together, anyways?” 

“Long story,” she answers, and you get the sense there’s something she’s holding back. Because you just met, you don’t press her any further. 

“As I’d imagine.” 

You hear boots coming down the stairs, and Tommy rounds the corner, holding a stack of photos. “I’ve been meaning to show these to you, I went home a couple years back…to Joel’s old place and mine. There wasn’t much left, but I found these.”

He passes the pictures to you, and you look down at them. You don’t think much about your old house at all. It was another thing you lost, but almost everyone did, so it didn’t really make you feel special. Still, sometimes you thought of your cozy back patio and your old friend Martini, and had accepted you’d never see them again.

The first photo in the stack is a photo of Joel and Sarah at one of his soccer games. As sweet as the gesture is, you are pretty sure you can only confront so much of your past at once, and with Joel being back in town it’s starting to get suffocating. Also, when you study the picture and realize that your memory has gotten some of Sarah’s features wrong, you’re overwhelmed with guilt. 

Hesitantly, you place the pictures down on the coffee table, and Ellie reaches for them immediately, flipping through him. “Woah,” she says. “He looks so different without all the grey hair,” she flips to a photo of him and Tommy, and glances up at him. “You look pretty much the same.” 

When you agree with her, Tommy grins, playfully tucking a piece of hair behind his ear bashfully before growing serious. “You better not tell him I showed you these.” 

“I won’t,” Ellie assures him. 

“Look at this one.” Tommy pushes another photo across the table towards you, and you peer down to look at it. “He fucking adored you.”

You remember taking the picture vividly while on vacation with Joel and Sarah, and at one point you’d had your own copy framed on your dresser. There are flowers peppered in his hair, and you both look so young, and so happy, and so oblivious, his arms around you, his lips pressed against your cheek. At the time, you really had no idea that everything you knew was about to be destroyed. 

“Nice,” you say flatly, and in an effort to keep from getting emotional, push it back across the table, and retreat to sit in a chair across the room. 

After some time, and some convincing, Tommy and Ellie leave to go on their tour of the school. When the door closes behind them, you swipe the photo from you and Joel off the table and slide it into your back pocket. You tell yourself it’s so Tommy can’t show it to Joel, but really it’s because it’s one of the only memories you have of yourself before the outbreak, when everything felt perfect. 

Just as you back away from the pictures, Maria appears at the bottom of the steps. She looks exhausted, and before either of you can speak, you wrap her in a hug. Partly because it looks like she needs it, but also because you just want to feel close to someone you trust, even if it’s only for a few seconds. “How are you holding up?” you ask. 

“I finally get some peace and I’m using it to work,” she says, leading you into the dining room, where all the paperwork is spread out. Your plan had been to write a new amendment to the town’s constitution, which then had to be approved by the council. 

Maria hadn’t stayed away from her job as the leader of the community for very long after having their son, despite your encouragement for her to take it easy. She had experience with her previous son, Kevin, but you imagined it didn’t make life with a newborn any easier. So you tried to help her out with any chance you got, especially because you knew she’d do the same for you. it was just how things between you worked. She knew even more about you than Tommy did, and you told each other everything. Well, almost everything….

“You should take a nap or something.” 

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “I can write a draft while you sleep and then you and I can do the revisions together. 

She seems reluctant, but after making you swear you’d wake her if the baby starts fussing, she lies down on the couch and you begin working. 

Like your old job, you don’t really like doing this. The only job you have in Jackson that actually excites you is the work you do with Eugene, and going on patrol. But this work makes you feel the most useful. And despite the fact that you had always been skeptical of authority – you believed in her ability to keep things in Jackson running smoothly. 

About an hour later, you’d drawn up the draft and Maria stirs from her nap. The revisions don’t take very long, since you both are usually on the same page, but when you start packing your things up to go, she seems surprised. 

“Are you hanging around until dinner?” 

“No, I have to meet up with Eugene,” you say. “Plus, Ethan’s at home hungover so I told him I’d make him soup. 

“Do you think he’ll be up for dinner tomorrow night?” she asks. “Tommy keeps pestering me.”

“Well he’s still too young for his hangovers to last two days,” you smirk. “So yeah, I think he will.”

“He invited…..Joel, and Ellie,” Maria says hesitantly, watching your face. “Is that okay?”

“I mean….it’s not my dinner party.”

“You can say no. Or not come,” she offers. She hadn’t been there the day you’d seen Joel again for the first time, but it sounds like Tommy has given her the rundown. 

You shrug. As much as you don’t want to admit it, being forced into the same room as Joel is a little exciting. “I’ll go.” 

“Are you doing okay with that?” she asks. “I told Tommy not to surprise you, but he didn’t listen.”

“It’s all fine,” you say, which isn’t entirely a lie. At the end of the day, everything would be fine. The stakes weren’t life and death. When Maria seems unconvinced, you continue. “I mean, it feels like he’s being a little rude…but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Maria lowers her eyes, pauses. “Has Tommy’s ever told you about any of the stuff Joel got him into when they were on their own?”

“Not really,” you say. “But I know they were on bad terms.” 

“I didn’t know you back then,” Maria begins. “So I don’t know what you saw in him, or what he was like. But….I don’t think he’s….I don’t know if it’s worth getting emotionally invested again.”

“Oh, bummer. As you know, reconnecting with an ex is my main priority right now.” you deflect with a smirk, but Maria doesn’t seem as amused.

“Fair,” she says. “But be careful. I saw what he did to his own brother. I don’t want it to happen to you.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you assure her. “Whatever he’s done, I’ve dealt with worse.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 20, 2024-

When Joel and Ellie arrive at Tommy’s, it’s clear immediately they aren’t the only people that were invited. 

Seeing the life that Tommy had built for himself here – a thriving community, a wife, a son – fills him with a certain level of envy. But mostly….he’s ashamed. Back when they were hunters, Joel was adamant that it was the only way they could survive, despite the horrible things they were doing. The worst part was, Joel really believed it. Now, the nightmares still chasing both of them, he realizes he was wrong. Even if Tommy won’t say it out loud, Joel knows he resents him for those days, how he’d been forced to trade away so much of his humanity. For Joel, violence came easily – shockingly so – an outlet for all his anger after losing Sarah.  But Tommy had always struggled. And even though there will always be love between them, the tension was still there. 

He’s still adjusting to life in Jackson, only leaving the house when Ellie drags him out, and when Tommy trains him to go out on patrol. It’s hard to accept that he’s not on the run anymore after the chaotic nature of the last year. Only Tommy knows his darkest secret, and he intends to keep it that way. 

While Ellie does seem somewhat hesitant to leave him alone, she does seem a lot more enthusiastic about life in Jackson. Joel knows it’s a good thing, and once again, he feels like he’s let her down by not leading by example. 

Tommy greets them both once they step inside, and Joel is polite — something he’s been trying to do more of lately. Maria gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that tells him she’s trying to be civil despite her reservations. God only knows what Tommy has told her about their time together. At least he can understand where she’s coming from. Had they met twenty years ago in Austin, they probably would’ve gotten along. Nowadays, he’s not surprised when people don’t like him, because he hates himself, too. 

But Maria still entertains them with general pleasantries and questions about how they are settling in, despite looking incredibly flustered. Ellie is more apt to answer them then he is, Joel standing by with his thumbs in his belt loops. 

Over their shoulder, Joel sees you, standing in the corner of the front room with your back turned to him, deep in conversation with your nephew. He’s smiling and telling a very animated story, at one point clapping his palms on your shoulders and shaking them violently while you giggle. It makes him think of you and Sarah. Therein lies the problem. He’s become a little more comfortable discussing his past with Ellie, but there’s a limit to what he’s capable of, especially after repressing so much for so long. 

The oven goes off, and Maria excuses herself to the kitchen, inviting Ellie to follow along. Joel and Tommy are left standing in the entryway together.

“You invited her?” Joel asks, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice. 

Tommy steps back, giving him incredulous once-over. “It’s my house, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to-“

Tommy shoves Joel into the dining room before he can finish his thought, out of eyesight from the rest of the people in the house. “I’m not playing games, Joel. She’s family. Maybe not to you, but definitely to Maria and I. And she’s never shown you anything but kindness. So grow the fuck up.” 

Before Joel can think of another objection, the sound of a baby crying cuts through the air. Tommy freezes at the sound, until you call out from the other room. “I got him.” 

“Come on,” he says. “Maybe you can muster up the courage to hold your nephew.” 

He wants to tell Tommy that he’s trying, even if it doesn’t look like it. But it almost feels better to allow himself to be the black sheep. It makes things easier. If he keeps that door closed, he’ll never need to worry about the problems that lie on the other side. Still, he begrudgingly follows his brother in the other room. 

When he enters the front room, you’re holding Maria and Tommy’s son in your arms.  

After Joel had learned that Ethan was your nephew, he was unsurprisingly relieved. What did surprise him, however, is that some small part of himself was disappointed. Sure, if you actually had his child while you were separated it would have been devastating. But before all this, all he had wanted was a future with you, would’ve gladly given you children….really, anything you wanted.

He tries not to let his eyes linger on you too long, lost in the daydream of what could’ve been, but you meet his eyes and give him such a sterile, polite nod that it’s almost painful.

Dinner is uneventful. Joel ends up seated directly across from you, Tommy’s doing, no doubt, but you do a good enough job of engaging in conversation that you don’t spend much time looking in Joel’s direction, and when you do, he doesn’t recognize your expression. It does give him the chance to study you up close, which he hadn’t done yet, and immediately regrets. 

He’s still just as attracted to you as he’d always been. Sure, you’ve aged, but so has he – although you wear it much more gracefully. When Tommy offers to pour some bourbon into Ethan’s glass, he refuses, and for whatever reason, you stifle a laugh, the wrinkles around your eyes more prominent than they used to be. 

After dinner, when the plates have been cleared, you disappear. He can feel himself growing overwhelmed, so he steps outside onto the back patio for some air. You’re sitting on a porch step looking out at the yard, but when he steps outside, you turn.

When you register that it’s him, you return your eyes forward again, and Joel remains silent, even considers walking back inside without a word. But he stays there so long, contemplating, that you’re the first to speak up. 

“You know, if you stay here….at some point, you are gonna have to acknowledge me.” 

Joel knows he’s the antagonist right now. He’s well aware. But he can’t help himself. Despite that, there’s no malice, and no bitterness in your voice. But you are direct. 

And, because he’s never been good at refusing you, he gives you something in return. “I guess I’m just surprised to see you here….” He recalls a conversation you’d had long ago, curled against his chest, staring up at the stars together. “Being a city girl and everything.” 

You turn to look over your shoulder, gaze making him feel warm, a small smile on your face. For a split second, you’re looking at him how you used to, and then it’s gone. “It is sort of a miracle, isn’t it?” 

He ponders this, and you continue. 

“It’s good to see you, Joel,” you say softly. He wonders how you can make general pleasantries sound so sweet, and is surprised at how easily you betray yourself with the words. Though he had noticed a pattern at dinner. You weren’t nearly as guarded as you used to be. He wonders how that’s possible, if you’ve made it this far. 

“You too.”

-

-

-

[riversandwinds]

kiss it better?

a/n: hi hi hi! this is my very first fic, I’ve never written anything before so we’ll see how this goes. please be nice, tell me if you hate it xx ! also I got fed up with autocorrect changing y/n to yen so I just gave her a name 😭

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

summary: Being an art student, Amara’s life gets so stressful around finals week. When everything starts to go downhill, Chris is there to fight with her, and maybe even kiss it better afterwards.

warnings: swearing, angst (happy ending), kissing, not really anything else except for female rage lmfao, no use of y/n

word count: 1.7k-ish

Not proofread 🤓

lots of love ~ Rivvie

What better way to start your day off than with a whole lot of chaos. Amara was jolted awake by the alarm clock’s incessant beeping slicing through her and Chris’s quiet room. Sitting up, her face paled as she saw the time, seeing that she slept through her morning lecture. Panic surged through her, immediately throwing the covers off and shooting up out of bed (much to Chris’s very audible disappointment). She grabbed random pieces of her closet off the floor in a frantic rush, barely managing to get out the door fully clothed with a “Byeloveyousomuchpleasecleanthehouse!”. (She forgot her glasses, then her phone, then her bag, making her run back to their room 3 more times.)

Shouting her final goodbye to Chris, she could feel her phone all but explode in her pocket. She was too disoriented to focus on the messages, so she ignored it, figuring it was just a random group chat. She sprinted through the commons, finally checking her phone after deciding she didn’t care enough to make it to the lecture hall.

lindsey manager (🫥)

sarah no-showed. need you to fill in today asap.

???

amara hello

Of-fucking-course, Amara thought to herself. With a huff, she turned on her heel, making her way to the campus coffee shop. I don’t even have my work clothes, God hates me.

At work, the hours dragged by as she endured her manager’s endless complaints. “You’re late, Amara, hurry up.”, “Where the hell is your uniform?”, “No, you’re not doing it right-“

The poor girl was on edge, to say the least. Her late start didn’t help, either, as she didn’t have any time to grab food from their dorm. She was barely able to handle her hunger as she worked through her shift, her empty stomach cramping by the time her shift was done. She clocked out, silently cursing Lindsey, the shop, and every customer who walked in during her shift.

As exhausted as she was, she called her professor as she was walking out, booking the ceramics room for a few hours. Finals were quickly approaching, and her clay tea set was only partially finished. She headed to the studio, hoping to make at least a little progress on her project and make up for lost time.

Her day only continued to spiral. She’d been in the studio for all but 20 minutes before she wanted to destroy the Earth entirely. As she was leaving the kiln room, tray full of breakables in hand, the door next to her flung open, slamming into her. Not only did it: A) Slam her glasses into the bridge if her nose, cutting her face, but it B) sent her entire tea set to the ground, shattering into thousands of tiny clay shards. Amara’s world collapsed in that moment. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the wreckage, unable to muster the strength to pick up the fragments. With a choked sob, she grabbed her bag and fled the studio, feeling the weight of her disastrous day press down on her.

Stumbling into her apartment, she hoped for just a semblance of order. But the sight of the messy living room—pizza boxes, crumpled papers, clothes everywhere—made her heart sink even lower. She dropped her bag and collapsed to her knees, her body shaking with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

“A-are you kidding me?” Amara’s voice cracked as she shouted, her frustration pouring out uncontrollably. “I’ve had the worst day- oh god… I missed my lecture, got screamed at at work, my project is destroyed, and now this mess? I can’t do this-”

Chris, complete with an Xbox controller and a headset, emerged from their room with wide eyes. He froze, his mouth slightly open in surprise as he took in his girlfriend’s state. “Baby, woah, what’s going on?” He set the controller aside and stood next to Amara, honestly a little confused. “Why the meltdown?”

Wrong choice of words, clearly, as her red, tear-filled eyes snapped to his, going wide.

“Why the meltdown?” Amara exploded, her voice rising in volume as she began to frantically clean up the mess. “Because today has been a fucking wreck! I asked you to pick up a little, just a little, Chris! A-and you couldn’t even manage that! I come home to- to this after the worst day of my life, and you’re just sitting here playing games!”

Chris blinked, taken aback by her outburst. “Mar, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal. I was going to clean up, but I got sidetracked. It’s not like—” he bends down to pull Amara off the floor, but retracts when she spits out her response.

“It’s not like what?” she snapped, angry tears streaming down her face. “It’s not like it matters to you? You think I can just handle everything on my own while you sit at home and do nothing? I’m at my breaking point, and all I wanted was the trash off the floor!”

Chris’s eyes widened, his initial nonchalance giving way to frustration. “Hey, I didn’t make your day go bad. I get that you’re upset, but yelling at me isn’t going to fix anything. I’m just trying to understand here!”

Amara’s anger reached its peak. She stood up, maniacally grabbing all of the dirty cups and pieces of trash, stomping to the kitchen to deal with it. “You think I’m yelling just for fun? You have no idea what my day was like! I’ve been on the edge all day, and instead of coming home to something decent, our house is a disaster and you don’t even seem to care!” Throwing her now empty hands up, she lets out a choked cry, pushing past Chris to enter their bedroom.

After seeing Amara sobbing and slamming the door to their room, Chris’s demeanor shifted dramatically. He stood in the living room, the weight of her words sinking in. With a deep sigh, he started cleaning up the mess with a quiet guilt, his movements deliberate and focused. He managed to tidy up the living room, stopping to order Amara’s favorite takeout. He grabbed the blankets from the closet, setting up the couch and scrolling Amazon Prime for a movie to rent. (He eventually settled on Barbie Princess Charm School, figuring it would appease Amara.)

Around 30 minutes later, when Amara emerged from the room, she was met with a surprisingly clean space and the comforting aroma of her favorite food. Chris looked up from arranging the food on the coffee table, his face softening as he saw her. “Look, sweetheart, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize the house was this bad,” he said, his tone earnest. “I thought I could fix it.”

Amara’s anger dissipated as she took in the scene. “Chris, I—” she started, her voice wobbling with her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I was just... overwhelmed.”

Chris walked over and pulled her into his chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I get it now. I’m sorry you had such an awful day, Ma.” She shrugged, pressing a kiss to his chest.

Spontaneously-DoorDashed desert arrived around ten minutes later, to which Amara all but inhaled while she focused on the movie in front of her. After almost dosing off for the third time, Chris paused the movie, brushing hair out of Amara’s exhausted face.

“Time for bed, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” Chris said, pulling a whiny Amara up from the couch, leading her to their room.

He first took care of the little cut on her nose, placing a small kiss over it when he was done. After she was undressed and her hair was brushed, he helped her into the shower, his touch gentle as he guided her through the calming process. While she was in the shower, Chris busied himself tidying up the rest of the apartment, clearing up their dinner and putting up the clean dishes in the kitchen.

When Amara emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, refreshed and feeling a bit more centered, she found Chris remaking their bed, having switched out their sheets for clean ones. The room was now a haven of comfort, with soft lighting and the faint sound of the unpaused Barbie movie playing in the background. The big lights were off, the room illuminated by the soft string lights on the wall.

“God, Chris,” Amara said, her voice filled with appreciation. “This looks amazing. Thank you for cleaning, baby. I’m sorry I yelled at you over it…” she pouted slightly.

Chris smiled softly. “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry for being kinda useless. I figured this might help some more.”

He reached out and grabbed her in a bear hug, resting his chin on her head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We all have rough days, and I should have been more understanding. I’m just glad we can talk things out and make them better.” He pulled back to kiss between her eyebrows, the tip of her nose, and a soft peck on her lips, smoothing her hair down with his hands.

He helped her get dressed, slipping a sleep shirt over her head and sliding her underwear and shorts up her legs, kissing her knee with a grin. Amara appreciated his efforts, feeling the weight of her stress lift with each passing moment.

After a few minutes, and a few yawns from both parties, Chris turned off the string lights and the tv, declaring it was bedtime. They climbed into their newly-made bed, snuggling up under the comforter. Chris wrapped his arms around Amara, pulling her close as she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of being understood.

“I really do love you, you know,” Amara said softly, her sincere voice filling the dark room. “Thank you for kissing it better, Chris.”

Chris kissed her forehead gently. “Always, and I love you too, pretty girl. I’ll do better next time, pinky promise.”

As the sleepy mumbling played on, they remained in each other’s arms, the earlier turmoil of the day replaced by a sense of peace and safety.

Finally settling into a comfortable silence, Amara felt her eyelids get heavy. She yawned, pressing into Chris who kissed her forehead with a hum. She relaxed into Chris’s embrace, feeling like a precious stone in the hands of a jeweler. They drifted off, Chris’s immediate snoring lulling Amara to sleep with a lovesick grin on her lips.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

tags: @her-favorite (u the only one bb 🌝)

[acourtofthought]

Do you really think sjm will give every single FMC in every single one of her books the same HEA with a mate?

In almost every case, yes.

If SJM is writing a full length novel in the ACOTAR world that features a fae FMC / MMC (I'm not sure I see her writing a full length MM or FF novel, maybe a novella where the characters may or may not have a bond) than I do think they'll receive a HEA together as mates because we have been told there is no bond greater than a mating bond. That no matter how special marriage is, a mating bond trumps it. That the mating bond is a bridge between souls which means any other love is not.

In the old days of gymnastics the best score you could receive was a perfect 10. Though a gymnast could be extremely happy with a 9.8, you still can't turn around and tell them that 9.8 is just as good as a perfect 10. It's a great score of course but it's still not the best score.

That's a mating bond in this world, the perfect 10 and there's no going back once we know what the peak is. Elain loved Graysen, maybe she could have learned to love Az, but she'll only ever be mates with Lucien. Lucien will only ever be the one with a bridge to her soul. People can rant and rage all they want, they can downplay it to their hearts content but it doesn't change the fact that Sarah J Maas (as well as many other authors) have decreed this as their truth. I have never known a fated mates author to write a true rejected mates story, one where they don't have a HEA by the end, regardless of how many fated mates book they've written. Ella Fields has multiple Fated Mates books at this point. J.R. Ward has at least over 20 (an author Sarah loves). If Fated Mates are presented as an option within a world then nothing else is going to be as good especially when it involves two important side turned main characters. Many in the fandom love Elain and many LOVE Lucien. He's just as much a favorite in this world as she is and Sarah has not written him to be anything but respectful to Elain, hot, and set up to become a future HL. This is not a throw away character where his feelings don't matter, his longing for Elain matters just as much as her current avoidance of the bond. The arguments of feminism are so ridiculous because in books you are allowed to root for all characters equally, I don't have to put Elain's "wants" (though we don't truly know whether what she currently claims is what she actually wants) over his simply because I'm a woman. I am allowed to be just as invested in his HEA as hers because the author wrote it that way, because she has set him up to be the good guy in Elain's story - the one who has never hurt her and only wants the best for her.

An author can throw all the angst, tension, hatred, etc. that they want at the two characters but it has never changed where they end up (which is together).

The only scenario where a rejected Fated Mates story would make sense to me is a setup like we might be getting with Mor / Eris. While Sarah is now writing Eris to be sort of a good guy, many readers were not quite as invested in him until SF. Yes, I realize there are some who have always loved Eris (I like him too) and after reading that Beron tortured him we hope for a better outcome for him but I think it's safe to say that if he and Mor turn out to be mates, nobody would be all that heartbroken for him to not end up with her. We know her romantic preference but we don't know his. We saw that he caused her trauma that has lingered over the years and we've never seen him longing for her. Sarah has written them to share in a connection of sorts, where they're always aware of the other but not in a way where anyone really wants them together. Eris letting go of Mor and his bond with her so she might find happiness with a women makes him heroic without the reader feeling heartbroken that he doesn't get to be with her because we don't get the vibes he has any interest in being with her. This is a scenario where it might make sense for mates to not end up together because we know Mor will never want a male in that way and we're not invested in Eris ending up with anyone (outside of Az for some).

In contrast, Elain does like males and Lucien finds Elain to be the most beautiful female he's ever seen, even more than the one female who had control over his heart for centuries. We know he's already struggling with the effects of the bond therefore we know the disappointment he feels at her indifference would continue to hurt him. They are set up as a romantic possibility despite Elain's behavior around him right now because authors don't write that sort of setup for it to go nowhere.

Could SJM write a non mates story without ever introducing a mating bond (even a rejected one)? Sure! Vassa and Jurian come to mind. But I don't think it's happening within the current cast of fae characters most likely to get a spin off.

She might also decide to write an entirely new series where mates aren't a thing but in the current worlds, unless the character is human, it's kind of difficult not to want that perfect 10.

[worth-this-and-more]

What are you most looking forward to in Oathbound?

You seem to be asking everyone so wanted your opinion lmao

-@BrianaKane 💕

[spoilers for legendborn and bloodmarked, read at your own caution ;)]

haha i've got so much i wanna see in oathbound so this probably will be long af

-bree finally manifesting her best version. like ik our king was running here and there for her life but finally she's gonna have some time to train herself and finally control her powers without arthur dicking in or her ancestors warning her at every waking and sleeping moments. and also, the dragonnnn do I need to say anything more??

-ruthless nick. i neeeed to see that side of him, because a reason I did not like him very much in legendborn as a whole was because he was actively suppressing his emotions trynna be the calm kid but he really really needs to rage now. we saw sel's soft side now I wanna see nick's ruthless side.

-we might not get much sel content but please for the love of everything that is holy I need need neeeeed natasia in oathbound or I'm gonna die seriously I need to know her I need her to adopt me and bree and sel and alice and william and everyone because she's totally mommy vibes I mean she's our only hope in this adult world

-alice as the fierce regent or maybe the unofficial regent or unofficial william's squire both work perfectly and will be so cool, and also teamed up with William with her terrific ideas and willpower, she's gonna go crazyyyyy and also I think she and sar might have something start in oathbound?? like idk I just have this feeling but yeah

-did i mention i wanna see the dragon again?? because I wanna see the dragon again and oooh maybe the dragonn is gonna kill the shadow king but let's see haha that might be in the fourth book

-and yeah i need sarah griffiths to takeover the southern chapter demolishing victoria because as William is probably not gonna be here I feel like she's gonna be in charge because obviously everyone kicked out tor. sar and the morgaines would make a terrific group and I'm living for it.

-i wanna see zoelle and eljiah slowly but surely siding with bree because they just seem power hungry demons and bree could give them so much more, like what if they meet valec and then find out that oh you could get these things and deals with humans all at the same place how cool is that?? and if they are shadow king's kids, which doesn't seem much unlikely this old man has a lot of kids scattered around, this forced family of valec, sel, zoelle, eljiah and maybe some more would finally throw up their parental trauma on the shadow king and maybe, just maybe break his ego or bruise his anger whichever works.

-a small part of me believes that a bree vs shadow king battle is probably in the fourth book butttttt a nick vs shadow king, or sel vs shadow king is possible depending on who reaches there first. i do feel like nick would somehow find out that erebus is not erebus by maybe his newly found abilities and knowledge, so maybe nick vs shadow king is inevitable.

-and ohhhh alice vs tor where tor dies please please please please I wanna see that I wanna see alice absolutely destroy that piece of shit yk just pure fury unleashed upon tor. it's gonna be so epic and if it happens in the ogof-y-drraig oooooh even better because that's where tor defied our king officially and that's where she should crumble to dust

-willark content please i need those two idiots falling in love I feel like it's gonna be "he fell first, he fell harder" and lark has already fallen so I want to see William falling in love all over again because pleaseeee I need it tracyyy

-regent cestra either having a redemption arc, there is a slight possibility of that like a cobwed's strand amount of chances but it's there for me personally, or else she should die. bree vs cestra would obviously be amazing but it could also be by the hands of one of the shadowborn or maybe shadow king would kill her too either for the drama or because she figures out that he has bree or something

-dragonnn dragonnn dragonnn dragonnn

now imma just stfu okay bbyeeee (edit: i added the willark point because how on earth did I ever forget it????)

[thecameronchronicles]

Midsummers

TW: Brief angst. Smut. Language.  DOM!Rafe.

SUMMARY: The night that was supposed to be the one you'd always dreamed of takes an unexpected, and erotic, turn, with an unexpected person. 

WORD COUNT: 2700

REQUESTED:

hiii i have a rafe request if you get the chance!! maybe a sarah’s friend reader who gets cheated on by jj, so sarah makes rafe ask her to midsummers and things get spicy!? love your writing💕🥰

Midsummers

You had spent the last two weeks barreling through boutique after boutique just to get the perfect dress for tonight. Where others would use tonight to display their riches through some ensemble or conversation about upcoming events within their lives, you had articulated every detail to raise your confidence enough to finally act on your crush. But as you stood before the mirror with Sarah's encouraging words swirling in your mind, you were blissfully unaware of the second set of eyes that had made note of you. Still a set of eyes wore the same Cameron name, but not the ones you expected. And ones you never noticed having observed you this way. Just as they always had. 

"Whoa!" Topper exclaimed as you emerged from within the rear of the Island Inn Resort where the annual Midsummers event was being held. 

"I just saw him..." Sarah explained as you looked at the small collective of pogues banding together once JJ happened to draw the attention of one of the security guards. But as you'd hoped to have finally had a chance to express your unwavering feelings for him, you watched him dote over Kiara. The way she stood up for him. The way he wrapped her into a spin as she left the scene had been enough to not only squander your feelings for him but also any possibility of him learning of why you'd spent so much time in an appearance you usually left decorated barely. 

"All pogues are idiots." Rafe's voice sent your hand to your cheeks to quickly brush away any  evidence of your heartache. 

"They shouldn't even be allowed on the property...broke so many glasses that Rose is going to have a conniption." You scoffed at this as you saw the beginning of this take hold as she was just in earshot to hear her rage against members of the help. 

"Drink?" He offered as you looked at the bottle he'd hijacked from behind the bar and considered the numb feeling it could offer. But much like a crush, you knew the risk and ride was not worth the hangover the next day. 

"I think I'll just go home..."

"What? No! At least not until you dance with me.'

"Rafe Cameron doesn't dance."

"He does right now." He stood, extending his hand as you led him towards the remainder of the guests before he pulled you back towards him. 

"For you." A soft sway began with the distant music supplying the perfect ambiance for what should have been a pristine romantic moment. But in your attempts to feel such things, you would be met with that dull ache of a broken heart. Yet, there existed a comfort in his arms. A safety. All because he was the friend you'd known and appreciated, even despite his flaws. The soft pattern of his heartbeat existed as a lullaby of sorts to your tired pain as you basked in it as long as you could. 

"Guys like JJ can't appreciate beautiful things..." Rafe explained as he'd pulled away from you just long enough to brush a hair from your cheek. 

"They just taint it...But...Can I ask you something?" You nodded, his soft eyes suddenly evading your own. 

"I overheard you and Sarah...all the shit you did for him tonight...and...I just...why him? I mean you could have any guy here...So...why some pogue who doesn't even notice it?"

"Because I don't want to be stuck, Rafe. I can see it in so many people here. The way they look deadpanned at everything and... they're miserable and it's terrifying. So I want a love, even for just the summer, that I can look back on and know it's possible...even if it hurts." 

"And you thought Maybank was that?"

"I hoped." Suddenly Rafe surprised you, a hand set on either cheek as his steps stopped. 

"What if someone felt the same about you? Maybe someone you didn't...notice?"

"Rafe?" His lips rushed against yours. 

He was a friend. He was your best friend's brother. But he was also always there when you needed him. He was a source of a smile when your cheeks were stained with tears. He was those arms you ran to when you had moments like this. Most of them having been founded on convenient timing or the fact Sarah was busy. But you'd never thought of him beyond those former titles. Because of what he was. Forbidden. A risk. And yet, the way he held you now, you would wage war against the world to keep his touch to you. 

His fingers were behaved at your hips but informing you of his need as he dug into the satin fabric beneath the curved fingertips. Once he was relieved to find your response to him, he used that grip to bring you harder into him. A tongue brushing your bottom lip sent your lips into a delicate part whereas your fingers became wrapped around the lapels of his suit, leading him even closer. 

"Rafe-" The breathless sound of his name led him to need more of you. All of you. But he was too impatient to guide you to any of the room of the hotel. Instead, he pulled you to the direction of the nearby wall where he could bask in your winded pattern of attempted breathing. 

"The first thing he should have done was told you how beautiful you look..." He explained while his hands moved down from your cheeks and to your hips, tracing over your breasts with a sinister grin that informed you that he knew his exact effect on you. 

"I watched you stand in front of that mirror fixing every hair...every line made in the dress as you checked yourself from every angle. All wanting to look perfect for someone who isn't deserving of seeing you in this dress...much less out of it..." Your cheeks flushed in crimson as your lips parted to speak. 

"I want to earn it. Even if it takes all night...I want to earn each and every one of those little moans and whimpers he'll never know..." Your eyes widened before he kissed you again. This time, one hand at your breast as the other lowered between your legs. A slit of your dress made this possible as you relaxed your stance, only to feel it then tighten from his touch. He teased your sex over your clothed clit before setting your leg at his hip. His thumb brushed the sight of your panties, possible from this angle and the fit of your dress. 

"You chose blue for him? Be honest." You nodded before he suddenly tore them from your hip. A gasp emerged behind illuminated yet lust blown eyes. 

"You wear red for me. Or you wear nothing." His hand took a form but cautious hold of your jaw. "If you choose nothing, you're giving every consent to let me touch you when I want. And I'll take it. Whenever. Wherever..." 

"Please..." Your cheeks became feverish from his words. The simple idea of him, in any context, was unbelievable. And yet, he was the salve to your raw wound. 

"You think I'd let anyone else see that face right now...let alone when you come? I don't think so...I've earned it...why do they get to enjoy it?"

"Please, Rafe...I'll be quiet." To this, his lips spread into a wide grin. 

"You don't understand. I want you to scream for me...only me." He led the hand to your face down to your hand before he collected your panties and brought you into the heart of the hotel. Guests who knew both of your families had attempted to stop you, but Rafe made an excuse you did care to note. 

"You got a room?" You asked as he pinned you against the door as it came open, the sound access granted by an electronic click making your heart skip in excitement. 

"The suite for the chair of the committee. It's Rose's niece's...but she's busy with Kelce...So tonight… it's ours and you're mine." He paused for a second. 

"If you want to be. You get one chance to walk away-" 

"I don't want to."

"I can't promise to be gentle..." You took a step closer to him, hands back on the lapels of his suit. 

"I don't want gentle. I want..."

"I'll give you everything you've ever wanted. All you have to do is say it." He explained. 

"You." He collected you into a tender kiss as your fingers were desperate to assess him. The stone torso beneath rose with humor validated from a smirk. 

"We have all night..."

"I need to feel you...all of you.." He grunted. 

"Take this dress off. Slowly." You bit your bottom lip as he pulled his cufflinks loose. Your eyes remained on his before he moved to you again. 

"I changed my mind, turn around." You obliged, now facing the bed as you felt him remove your zipper. Your breath hitched to the bare skin kissed by the backs of his knuckles. 

"He doesn't deserve to see you like this..." He explained as you turned to face him. 

"Jesus..." He released a deep exhale as you ran your hands at his naked torso. But as you tried to adore his physique as you allowed him, your wrists were bound. But only for a breath as he led you towards the bed. 

"You're so fucking beautiful. I could stare at you all night. But I've done that for the last five years...I think my patience should be rewarded." Before you could speak, you were taken to the bed until his weight pinned you beneath him. You were pulled to his desire, hands set over your head. 

"Don't move them unless it's to grip the sheets." You nodded as he began a trail of kisses from your jaw to your navel, taking a moment to appreciate each breast. 

"I didn't think you'd grip them quite yet...'

"But your hands feel so good..."

"I'm just getting started, baby..." He continued his descent until he came over your sex. His breath leaving you cold beneath as he smirked  to the way you groaned for him. The expression of necessity making him lick his lips. 

"You can be as loud as you want for me. Don't insult me by trying to be all ladylike..." He offered one final cast of the raise of his grin before his tongue came to your clit. 

"You already taste so good for me...all for me." You nodded as you reached for his hair, his body quickly returning your hands over your head. 

"You only pull when you're about to come...you're already so wet it's hard to tell." Your eyes rolled as he projected his ringed finger inside of you while his tongue returned to work. 

"Rafe!" You belted. 

"Mmm... you taste so good..." He retreated, pulling your legs wider as you fisted into the sheets above your head. 

"You really think Maybank would know how to make you grip those sheets like that?" 

"No!"

"Prove it...Say my name again. Just as desperately as before. Like you want him to hear you." As you agreed by doing exactly as he asked, he smirked into you as he built you to that orgasm. 

"How do you wanna come-"

"I don't care!" 

"I'm only going to be able to let you do it once before I need to. So tell me-"

"Right here! Don't stop!"

He teased a lick of his lips before nodding. His motions were slowed but thorough as he was a means to the way of your release. 

"Rafe!"

"You know what to do if you're close." Whimpering behind a bottom lip clenched by your teeth, you tugged tightly as his hair now disheveled by your grip. 

"Come on my face, baby..." He spoke quickly, returning to you once again as your hips were held down by his grip as you lost control in the waves made by your back. Arching and clenching, whimpering and pleading, all until you spilled over his grin. He looked at you with a wide grin. .

"Oh baby...you made such a big mess..." His smirk widened even further. 

"I want an even bigger one on my cock." He turned you to your stomach, kissing you in a rather awkward but adjusted bend, as you were taken upwards.

"This ass is almost perfect..." A slap made you yelp as his lips nearly reached his ears with pride. 

"Now it is. My handprint right here..." He rugged the assaulted skin. "Just as it should be." 

"You want my cock baby? How about we beg one more time for me? Yeah? Just one?" He almost latinized as you nodded. 

"Please, Rafe. I need you inside me..." 

"Then put me there..." He teased you with his naked cock, a motion you were too wrapped in your own bliss to notice he'd made. 

"Good girl. You know where it goes...slowly...I could come with how fucking wet and tight you already are..." You struggled to keep your moans compressed as you guided him into you. 

"Bring it back slowly baby..." He orchestrated you through his order as he guided your hair into his fist and pulled you to his chest. 

"You feel that right there?" He flexed his cock inside of you,making you shudder. .

"This is how it should always be. When it isn't in your mouth or hand..." 

"Rafe-" 

"But for right now...you're gonna prove I'm the one you're thinking of. So make me come...and maybe I'll let you just one more time..." 

"Ahhh..." You began to main as he brought you into a steady rhythm you were guided to upkeep.  Your eyes rolled to how deep and full he left you feeling the walls of your sex clenching to him just as gluttonous as his nails had been to you. 

"Fuck! You feel like heaven..." You moaned. "Faster..." You obliged, your body moving in slow strides to him, accelerating to this request. 

"Rafe please!"

"What are you begging for? If you want something, you can get it, baby...just ask..."

"Fuck me?"

"Like you mean it..."

"Fuck me, Rafe!"

"Here?" He asked, a harsh thrust stilling your movements as he continued to tease you. 

"Oh, you wanna come again? Isn't that a bit greedy?"

"I don't care...you feel so good...please..." 

"With a hand wrapped around your breast, he pulled you even closer to him. 

"You haven't even felt me here..." He explained while brushing your bottom lip. 

"Next time. I wanna feel you come inside me! Please!" You shook over him as he smirked. 

"Who am I to deny to my girl?" He began steady but unkind. Harsh thrusts led him pounding into you as the bed squeaked at mercy. Care and compassion were damned as you were taken to the crest of that second high and he was at the precipice of his first. 

"You feel so damn good, I could come inside you all night."

"Yes! Please!"

"Let's see how you handle one...you're already shaking for me baby..."

"I'm close!"

"No you're not." He explained until he began making small circles at your clit. 

"Now you are..." He smirked. This humor fading for pleasure as you felt him lead the charge to a mutual release. Perfect foreplay and timing had you calling out for one another in grunts and groans as he pulled you swiftly against his hips. 

"Tell me. Tell me whose fucking you like this."

"Rafe-!"

"Tell me whose cock owns your pussy whenever I wanna come."

"RAFE!"

"And tell me who you belong to from this moment on!" He cursed behind clenched teeth. 

"Rafe Cameron!" 

"I love how you say my name when you come." He breathed in finality, your orgasm prompting his own, as he pulled you back to his chest. Sweat connecting you as a trophy of such an example. 

"How about I make you say it again?" 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

[madwomansapologist]

━ ✧ unraveling you | chapter 3 - the hound and its leash

masterlist | pinterest board | spotify playlist |  AO3

series synopsis: Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

Leaning against the door frame, Agnes blew the cup of tea between her hands. She watched your back as you sat on the ground with a canvas between your legs and placed some paint pots near the fence on the backyard.

― Where did you found those old things? ― Agnes yelled from inside the house, forcing herself to remain distant from you. ― They look a century old.

― The attic, I think ― you shrugged, more interested on your canvas than on her. Agnes sighed. ― I wasn’t paying attention.

Of course you weren’t. Your mind is always somewhere far away. Not that she’s one to judge you. Agnes’ body may be trapped here, but her mind is quick to wander away from Westview. From this hellish house.

Kitchen with such white walls, a couch far too small in the living room, curtains so thin they’re almost transparent. Nothing feels right. Fire that doesn’t burn, smoke that doesn’t choke. A house, not a home. Simply a vessel, bending as the scarlet witch decides it’s time to.

Stop, the voice inside her head demanded. Her voice. She must remember: it’s her voice. Agatha Harkness. That’s her name. That’s her voice. That’s not the truth. Admit it. Don’t lie to us. Do never lie to us again.

― I’m delirious ― Agnes said instinctively. She wasn’t even aware that word was about to come out of her mouth. Still, it felt right. It felt true. ― Insomnia, paranoia, hallucinations. I can’t trust myself.

Madness. Most of the time, Agnes is able to notice when her perception of the world around her isn’t to be trusted. When her thoughts aren’t right, and the things she sees aren’t really there. The house is the same as it has always been. The problem is her mind. Six months trapped inside herself, dreaming a dream that doesn’t end.

Before an wolf chasing her enemies, now just a rabbit with a broken paw.

― I mean no offense ― she sat on the floor, reaching out for Señor Scratchy. He jumped to her lap, enjoying Agnes’ warm hands. He bit at her fingers, not meaning to hurt her. She does the same all the time. ― Not that you would understand that.

Hope meant so little now. Hope wouldn’t save her, wouldn’t glue the broken pieces of her soul back together. She can’t go back to be the powerful being she once was. Not after being defeated, humiliated again and again. But rage would do it. Rage would lift her up.

The house looked just like a house now.

Agnes grabbed the books for your classes. She tried to mess with Wanda’s head, make her see that her reality was just as fake as the old shows she loved, and that created a chaos Agnes wasn’t ready to deal with. With you, she’ll be more subtle. All Agnes need is for you to question your reality.

At the backyard once again, she almost stepped on a canvas. Agnes kneeled down to get it out of the way but found herself unable to move. A wide sky, in tones of blue and purple. Great stars, comets, nebulae. It was… intricate. Complex. An elaborated design.

Your laugh made her look away from it. The blonde girl sat next to you made her worry. She had a rose on her hands, once yellow but now carefully painted purple. Just as you had one of Agnes’ flowers dripping yellow paint.

― A guest ― Agnes smiled, but her high pitched tone wasn’t as polite as it usually is. She knows that child. Sarah’s kid. Meanwhile Dottie had a busy life being the mean neighbor, her kid got locked away on her bedroom for weeks. ― Does your mom knows you’re here?

She doesn’t. Agnes knows that. Sarah hates her guts, she would never let her precious daughter be a guest in a witch’s house.

That put another smile to her face. A more real one, more cruel one. They all know she’s a witch. She came after the hex, and most of them saw some aspect of her fight with Wanda. Her neighbors just think she was unable to stand against her, used as the final boss in their broken sitcom.

Not Sarah. She knows Agnes did nothing to help them because she didn’t want to. Because it wouldn’t have beneficted her. Somehow, and that Agnes isn’t aware of, she found a proof of her free will during the period Wanda controlled them.

It feels nice to be understood.

― A lovely guest ― you said. ― We’re working on a special project.

― Painting flowers? A waste of time. Paint. And flowers.

― We’re the Red Queen’s soldiers ― the girl explained. Agnes tried, but she couldn’t remember her name. ― She ordened us to paint the roses red. Since we don’t have red paint, we are improvising.

― My idea ― you took another of Agnes’ flowers. She doesn’t like to see them yellow, but hates the idea of seeing them red.

― I gonna hide this one in my mom’s garden and see how long it takes for her to notice it.

Agnes sat away from you both, watching as you ruined her flowers. You tried to get her to participate, she pretended to be reading. After a few minutes, she heard Sarah calling for someone named Giselle.

― Over here! ― Agnes yelled.

Sarah approached the gap in their fences, unsure if Agnes was talking to her. She usually does her best to pretend not to notice the witch’s existence. To see someone else there surprised Sarah. But besides the woman stood her daughter.

In a matter of seconds she was holding Giselle’s arm, pulling her towards their home.

― What did I said to you? ― Sarah hissed at her daughter. She turned to Agnes, pointing at her. ― Get away from my family.

Agnes looked so at peace, so put together, but you could feel it. The boiling rage of being insulted and unable to react. Looking at Agnes, you didn’t saw the woman you came to know. You saw a hound dog incapable of biting back.

― Then maybe you should get your family away from me ― she barked. Her mouth tasted like iron. ― Have a nice day, neighbor!

Giselle gave you a sadly smile, and you waved at her. Agnes sat again, mouth shut and eyes tired, anger just a layer beneath her skin. You looked at the flower drying. It wasn’t fun anymore.

― What is your favorite flower? ― You tried to distract Agnes from whatever she was thinking about. To make that feeling echoing from her cease to exist.

― I don’t have one.

― Then you’re a liar.

― I just… ― she brushed her eyes after they twiched. It wasn’t a good day for her. It getting so much more difficult to control her mind, her feelings. ― I guess orchids. Probably orchids.

― That’s better ― you smiled. ― Now what does an orchid looks like?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The screen turned black as the movie stopped, reflecting your images. Nothing but your eyes escaped from under the blanket, just two little white dots. Agnes was so focused on devouring buttered popcorn, only now noticing how little of your skin was being show.

― Are you fine? ― She asked, mouth full. You nodded slowly, and Agnes tried to suppress the urge to laugh. ― You don’t seen fine, sweetheart. Remember. There is a different between fiction and reality.

― I can’t even move ― you murmured.

― That’s a children’s movie. Are you so easily scared?

― CHILDREN ARE ALLOWED TO WATCH CORALINE?

― A bit unfair to deny them this feeling.

― Why would they want to feel… that? It’s horrible. I don’t want to ever feel that way again.

Agnes put the popcorn away, licking the salt from her fingers. She looked at the open window. It was getting dark now. Besides you, she didn’t even felt the hours passing by.

― It isn’t that bad. Also, fear is addicting. It makes your mind realizes you own a body. A mortal body, that can perish and rot. Nothing makes one feel more alive than admitting the existence of their own eventual, inescapable death.

Nothing makes her feel more happy than being the one to survive after a battle. Agnes smiled to herself. She missed it. How enemies can accept a common truth: they both will do their best and worse to get out of it alive.

― If it made me feel so awful, why did I liked it? Because I did. Wasn’t I suppose to only like things that are good?

― Just because it was uncomfortable doesn’t mean it was bad. You got angry at her parents. Disliked them because of their indifference. You saw something, thought about it, and got to a logical conclusion. That’s a good thing. Means you can think for yourself. Also, I heard the way your stomach snored as she drank the mango milkshake.

― It looked so good ― the excitement disappeared just as quick as it came. ― It hurts me that mango milkshake don’t exist.

Now Agnes was laughing. How couldn’t she? Her belly ached, but she was too amused to stop. Her skin turned red, lungs begging for air, and Agnes ignored a tear falling throught her cheek.

― It is real ― she was barely able to say it. ― You dumbass.

― No fucking way!

Agnes rose from the couch, heading to the kitchen with the bowl, but stopped in the halfway. She looked at you, shock all over her face.

― Where did you learned that word?

― Don’t know ― you shrugged it off.

― You know what? We deserve mango milkshake.

Walking to the ice cream shop, Agnes felt her body getting lighter. Weeks ago that would make her want to set fire to her skin. At least pain would mean she was feeling something. Now, it brings her joy. To go to places, acting freely: it delights her.

― It burns ― you cried out loud, laughing with milkshake still on your mouth. You sat on a high chair at the back of the shop, and Agnes stopped beside you. So close. ― It is cold, why does it burn?!

― It’s cold ― Agnes giggled. ― Really, really, really cold. Now press your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You did as she instructed. Agnes reached for you, rubbing your forehead with her thumb. You melt against her touch, eyes suddenly heavy. Something burned inside Agnes.

― Why does it feels better now? ― You whispered.

― No one knows ― Agnes sighed. ― But it does.

Eyes closed, you felt the presence. You heard a melody, one that you already knew. It isn’t the first time this happened. Some people work in tunes, other in colors and feelings. Whenever Sharon is near, you feel cold. Abilash is a breeze, light and comfortable. She haven’t opened her mouth, but you heard her.

You smiled at Sarah, thinking that would be the end of it. Whatever problem she has with Agnes, you know nothing about. Sarah doesn’t have a problem with you, and for you that’s all.

The smile was a little gesture, but a kind one still. Sarah wouldn’t do anything if it wasn’t for that. You looked like a good person. Someone decent, at least. Someone Agnes would hurt without a second thought.

― Hi, Sarah ― your words made Agnes look away from you. ― Have you found the flower yet?

― Aren’t you disgusted at yourself? ― Sarah’s words were clear, but you saw her hands trembling as she looked at Agnes. More than just enraged, Sarah was scared. ― Aren’t you embarrassed?

― Sarah ― Agnes hissed, a smile spreading throught her face. This time you noticed how fake it looked. How insulting it felt. ― Don’t you have a kid to look after?

― Acting as if nothing had happened ― Sarah continued. ― They can fall for your pretty words, but I see the truth. You’re just like that monster that toyed with us. You can fool them, but not me. Watch out, lassie. She’ll only hurt you.

You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you felt it all. Agnes and that same rage once more, but something else was there too. Fault. In some way, Sarah’s words affected her. Maybe they carried truth, maybe they were just cruel, but it hurted Agnes nonetheless.

― I think you better step back ― getting between them both, you covered Agnes from Sarah’s gaze. ― There is no need for that.

Agnes couldn’t look away from you.

So close from Sarah, you allowed her emotions to consume you. The pain, the loneliness. She was hurt and nothing could change it. Helplessness. To be powerless for so long… You too would sometimes forget that things had changed. That hell is before, not around you.

Inside her eyes, you saw a half-open door. The crack glowed in scarlet red. A door she couldn’t fully open, releasing who was trapped inside it. Somehow, you knew. She would rather die than to ever feel that way again.

― It wasn’t your fault ― you spoke softly, a hand rising to stroke her shoulder. ― Don’t carry that burden. It isn’t yours.

As your hand stroke her skin, Sarah stopped breathing. Yes, you were right. It isn’t hers to. Sarah looked at Agnes one last time, before giving you a smile just as kind as the one you gave her.

― Why did… ― Agnes bit her lips. Watching Sarah walk away, she struggled to breath. ― Why did you protected me?

You sat back, your whole body so tired you could fall asleep there. You were exhausted.

― My body did it ― you shrugged. ― You told me scary feelings makes your mind remember that you own a body. Does it work the same way with good feelings?

Agnes hesitated.

― I wouldn’t know. I’m not used to the good ones.

― What a shame ― you poured. ― You deserve good things.

Agnes thought about holding your hand.

― You too.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

― Stop that ― you yelled, trying to clean the mess Señor Scratchy made. ― I will roast you.

Sat on a chair in the backyard, one she bought recently, Agnes took a sip from her tea. The cup on her hands had little purple orchids painted on. She didn’t look up from her book.

― Don’t threaten him ― Agnes turned to the next page. ― Or I will roast you.

The grass wasn’t even green anymore. You were patient, but it was the third time in a row he made another mess right after you cleaned it all up. You barely draw at all.

― Bad habbit ― you hissed. ― Bad habbit.

He ran away, taking one of your brushes with him. Following after Señor Scratchy, you saw the traces of paint he left behind. Less time painting, more time cleaning. Awful, awful rabbit.

― You little thief! No more carrots for you!

You found him in front of the door leading to the basement. He dropped the brush and scratched the door. He didn’t want to mess with you. He just wanted help. You reached for the doorknob.

― Don’t.

Startled, you turned to see Agnes right behind you. You didn’t even heard her. Agnes kneeled down and took the brush from the floor, putting it on your hand. As your fingers brushed against her, you could almost touch her concern. She was trembling.

That’s not the first time Agnes can’t say something out loud. Althought that’s the first she went out of her way to stop you.

― What’s down there? ― You interwined your fingers with hers. She squeezed your hand. ― You can tell me.

― I can’t.

― That’s your home ― you whispered. ― You can.

You opened the door before she could stop you. You won’t allow whatever that is stopping her to control you. That place was left untouched for long enough.

A cold breeze reached you. It didn’t felt like another part of the house, but something entirely different. After the first step down it, it was easier to move. Too alluring to ever stop. By the end of it, you knew it was just an ordinary basement.

― See? ― You turned to her. ― Is just a…

You froze as the purple energy moved around Agnes. Coming out of her fingertips, it made impossible for her to move. Agnes couldn’t open her mouth. You heard her teeth clenching. The energy lift her up, just to throw her against the wall.

― Fuck you ― Agnes screamed in pain. It sounded more like a beast than a human. ― And fuck your stupid rules!

You ran after her, but that same energy moved towards her neck. Before you were even able to throw yourself on the ground, Agnes couldn’t breath.

Nothing you did stopped it. Agnes wasn’t breathing. More scared than you have ever been, tears rolled down you face as Agnes writhed on the ground. They fell on her face, but one of them were different. It glistened, like a precious jewel. The crystal disappeared on her skin.

― I’m so sorry ― you call you, hoping that whoever was doing that to Agnes could hear you. With tears blocking your vision, you kept on begging. ― Don’t hurt her. She’s good. Don’t hurt her.

You didn’t saw when things changed. When someone inside you was shattered, giving space to something older and stronger. Something ancient. With a pearly glow, your heart exploded.

Begging for help, you stroked Agnes’ hair. Bowing over the woman who only ever helped you, the wings breaking free from your back were nothing but a little discomfort compared to the cacophony of emotions boiling inside of you.

The pearly light was gone, and the only thing you could see was darkness. Its embrace lulled you into a deep slumber. It was warm. It was welcoming.

Besides you, she knew. With her eyes wide open, tears drying against her skin, air reaching her lungs. She knew it all.

Her name is Agatha Harkness.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

UNRAVELING YOU TAGLIST: @harknessshi

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

Hello! I have a request for Jareth from labyrinth if that's okay?

Could you write where, similar to Sarah but instead of wishing away a sibling, fem!reader wants to actually be taken by Jareth to his kingdom and they end up falling in love? Like, he shows her around his kingdom because she loves fantasy and makes her his queen? Thank you so much and I hope this makes sense! and please take your time!

“We’re choosing the path between the stars…” (Jareth x Fem! Reader) Labyrinth Fanfic: Part 1

The only comfort in a world so rotten was a dream, a yearning for distant lands of a fantastical nature. Y/n knew this well. Her life was a nightmare and when she looked in the mirror her eyes were the only bright part left of her lifeless face. Sighing with defeat, she turned from her bedroom mirror and threw her bruised body onto her bed like a rag-doll. Weeping into her pillow she hugged herself as each sob made her breathing ragged. Thunder boomed, and rain beat at the windows of the second-story bedroom. Y/n’s father had left to work, a night shift, giving her a brief hour of peace without fear of a beating before her wretched mother came home from her job to torment her. Y/n rolled over on the bed, facing the wall with her bookshelf, now empty after her parent’s fit of rage where they followed through on their threats to box up and donate all her books. Sniffling, she sat up and reached into the crack between her mattress and her headboard, where she had stuffed her favorite fairytale book in anticipation of her mother and father’s actions.

“Labyrinth…” she whispered. Lightning flashed, lighting up the room momentarily with its cold glow. “Oh if only the Goblin King would take me away like he steals away the child in this book.” Y/n said, managing a smirk (despite the stinging pain from her cut on her lip). “I would do anything to get out of this awful place. But would the King really take an interest in me?” She got up and made her way over to her mirror, leaving the book open on her bed as she examined her face, her body, her posture. She knew she wasn’t hard on the eyes. Y/n had been in countless unsuccessful relationships with the popular boys at her college. But that didn’t mean she was without insecurities. ‘Still…’ she thought, then rushed back to the book. Flipping through the pages she found what she was looking for. The line in the book that might’ve changed her life for good, if only she’d read it out-loud. ‘This is silly…’ but her stomach felt like it was filled with stones as she stared at the words. It was a fairytale, but it was one she truly believed, even if Y/n was reluctant to admit it. Those words had weight. Now… she just had to say them. “I wish the Goblin King would take me away…” She paused, feeling her heart skip a beat. “Right now.”

Lightning flashed again, illuminating her bedroom in its brilliance. Y/n closed her eyes and stood there, waiting. Nothing happened, although when she opened her eyes the lights had gone out. She repeated the words again, this time louder. Still nothing. She said it again and again, until her throat hurt. Eventually Y/n gave up. She left her room and went down the hall feeling blindly for a flashlight on the shelves outside her parent’s bedroom. BANG. CRASHHH! Y/n whirled around stumbling through the darkness back to her bedroom where the loud noise had come from. She flashed her flashlight around her room. The doors to her balcony had flung themselves open, and rain poured in, soaking the ground. She blinked as it hit her cheeks. Y/n grabbed the handles of the double doors and forced them closed. They clicked as she locked them, and only then did she notice the electricity in the air, as though…. ‘As though someone is watching me…’ She thought, heart racing. She turned slowly, trembling. The Goblin King stood there, a few feet away, surrounded by glitter and a dark sweeping cape.

“You… came…” Y/n blinked back tears.

The King flashed her a wickedly handsome grin. “You’re a lucky girl, Y/n. If I hadn’t been looking into my crystal, I wouldn’t have bothered answering a call like yours. You do know that changing the words makes them less effective?”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” Y/n mumbled. “Your majesty, you have no idea—“

“—Jareth, darling, its Jareth.” He interjected, stepping forward into the moonlight that peaked through the storm clouds and reaching up towards her face. Y/n stared up at him with wide eyes as he used his gloved fingers to brush away her tears.

“You have no idea how relieved and grateful I am that you came, Jareth.” Y/n said, blushing nervously as he examined the bruised side left side of her face. She watched his eyes darken with intensity as they observed the clear remnants of her last beating. “I can explain…” Y/n said, wracking her brain for less embarrassing alternatives to the truth of her situation at home.

“No need.” Jareth frowned, as if he understood the truth just by meeting her gaze. “I’ll grant your wish, Y/n, but you must understand once I take you to my palace, there is no returning to this world. There is no turning back.”

Y/n nodded without hesitation.

“Well then, you’ve made your decision.” He smirked. The Goblin King took her hand, and the room around them faded into a blur. Y/n felt dizzy as the light of a setting sun overwhelmed her senses and wind blew her hair back. She found herself overlooking an infinite maze from the highest window in a castle. The sky was coral and amethyst as the sun got lower and lower. Jareth sat across from her, fingering four crystal balls so they spun in circles between and around his fingers. seeing his handsome face in this new lighting took Y/n’s breath away.

“The book doesn’t do you justice…, you know.” Y/n said softly.

King Jareth arched an elegant brow, but said nothing. He turned the crystals into bubbles and let the wind carry each one gracefully away. Finally, after quite some time, he spoke. “There’s a masquerade tonight. I suppose I wouldn’t mind if you should show up…” He said smugly, turning to her.

Y/n smiled. She remembered the masquerades mentioned in the book. “Of course! I’d love to go.”

To be continued in Part 2….

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {VII}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR B ased on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: I meant to post this, like, a week ago...but I have to admit that I've been pretty down lately. It's not been a good mental health week. I apologize for the delay! Now that the school year is in full swing, I may only be posting one chapter a week instead of two. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Gwyn,

Emerie and I missed you this last tea. She told me all about her recent travels and now we must wait to hear all about yours once you return. Selfishly, I am glad you will not be gone for long. I swear, I am living vicariously through you and Emerie. I absolutely adore hearing about all the two of you see and do beyond the borders of Velaris. I will not spoil all that Emerie told me for I am certain you wish for her to tell you herself.

I will, however, briefly mention something that I shared. In all honesty, I’m a bit embarrassed about it. No one will ever know about it with the exception of the two of you. There is…a man. This man keeps popping into my mind and just yesterday he popped into my carriage as well. Although, I believe I am to blame for that. It was storming and I offered him shelter. However, that is not the issue. The issue is that, on multiple occasions now, I have felt towards this man. I do not need to tell you how troubling that is. 

I have not acted on these feelings, of course, but when he is near I lose all sense of myself and my duties. It seems silly. I do not know him, not truly. Perhaps I am simply lonely and find him handsome, that is all. At least, I hope that is all. 

Please burn this letter once you have read it and write back soon.

With love,

Nesta

Nesta

The sun is shining and the air is warm but I am absolutely miserable. I have been dragged to yet another social dinner alongside my husband. I am on his arm pretending to be the most loyal, loving wife, but inside I am raging. I feel like a caged animal ready to attack, only my target is my husband and that will simply not do.

Apparently, such thoughts are frowned upon.

Unsure of what this dinner is actually for, my mind has already become vacant once we reach our chairs. We are seated across from a few of Tomas’ business partners and their wives, high ranking members of the ton like ourselves. I let the men talk and for once I am grateful for it. If we women were to talk, I would have nothing kind to say to these women. In fact, I would surely say something to them that would get me smacked by the man on my arm.

My husband has never liked my sharp tongue. I figured that out quite quickly. 

It had been less than twenty-four hours into our marriage, the morning after our wedding, our consummation, when he first struck me. He entered my bedchamber and was appalled that I was still nude from the night before. I asked him why he did not like my body, while he was ashamed of my nakedness when it was he that stripped me bare the night before. His response was to throw a nightgown at me and tell me to cover up. He said that no woman should be bare in daylight that is not a whore.

I refused to put the gown on.

And then he hit me.

From that moment, not even twenty-four hours after we had said our vows, I knew my marriage would never be one full of love. 

We eat and the food is decent. The roasted chicken is flavorful and the vegetables have just enough crunch to be satisfying. Tomas does not allow me to drink the wine, but I long for it, just to help me get through the evening until I am safely alone in my room once more with only the company of a good book. 

Unable to make eye contact with the women across from me, my gaze drifts further down the table and my breathing halts. 

I hadn’t even realized he was here. I was so deep within my own thoughts and misery that I hadn’t taken account of who else was present with the exception of those seated across from us. He must have arrived after we did.

As if he can feel my eyes on him, his eyes swivel to mine. 

Lord Cassian is dressed in all his finery and it suits him, strangely. He is always dressed finely, but I still imagine him as a man that is naturally a bit unkempt. I would like to see that version of him.

I give him a polite nod.

He returns the gesture. 

I turn to Tomas to see if he notices my distraction but he is in an enthusiastic conversation with the man beside him — a man whose name I’ve forgotten. He must be important for some reason. 

I try not to look back at Cassian, I truly do, but I can feel him staring. My thoughts drift back to our time in my carriage. Although the ride was short, there was more excitement in that ride than I’ve had with any man in years. Thankfully we arrived at his home before anything could have happened.

And I fear that if the ride had continued any longer, something would have happened. I know such a thing is blasphemy, but I cannot help but wonder what it would be like.

To be ravished by a man like Lord Cassian. 

I look at him once more. His jaw is hard, his eyes dark, as if he knows the thoughts that are running through my mind. I reach for my glass of wine before I remember I do not have one, that my husband does not trust me to drink. 

Realizing I’ve been locking eyes with a lord who is not my husband for far too long, I focus on my empty plate. Still, I can feel his gaze linger, can feel his eyes roaming my body, begging me to look his way. I do not, can not.

Suddenly, I feel like I cannot breathe. The room has grown too hot and I feel as if I am suffocating. Luckily, everyone around the table has begun to rise. I believe the owner of this home, whoever he is, has offered to show everyone something he deems extravagant. Tomas tells me to stay with the other ladies while he goes off to see this extravagant piece of uselessness and leaves me be.

I take the opportunity to get far, far away. 

After sneaking through multiple winding hallways, I find myself outside and in the gardens. The early evening air is cool and welcoming as the sun begins its descent. I immediately find peace in the silence.

The silence evaporates too quickly. 

“Lady Nesta, are you alright?”

I spin around to see, of course, Lord Cassian. He’s standing casually, with his hands clasped behind his back. He’s not smiling. In fact, he looks concerned. 

“Yes, of course,” I reply, trying my best to remain unaffected. “You should return to the party.”

“The men have gone to see Lord Kallias’ new hunting trophies.” He shrugs and I want to laugh at how informal he seems. “I do not care to see such things. I care more to see how you are faring after looking so miserable for the past hour.” 

I snort. “And here I thought I was good at hiding my emotions.”

“You are,” he says, with no hesitation. “I may have been paying more attention than the others.”

I’m blushing.

I hate myself for blushing. 

Suddenly, I can feel his hand on my knee, my hand on his. I was foolish for touching him, for asking what I was about to ask that day in the carriage, but I find it hard to find regret.

I clear my throat. “I see.” 

He takes a step toward me, then another, and I’m frozen in place. 

“You should really go back inside, my lord,” I say, my hands drawing into fists at my sides to keep me grounded. “This is…”

“Inappropriate?” he supplies, stopping a mere foot away. “I mean nothing untoward. Besides, you and I were alone in your carriage just the other day and I do not recall you thinking that inappropriate.”

That may be true, but it quickly grew inappropriate once I wanted to rip off his clothes and mount him on the velvet bench. 

Wonderful. Now that’s all I’m thinking about. 

“I have changed my mind,” I say, quickly. “That and this are both inappropriate. Good day, my lord.”

He doesn’t move. 

“I came out here to be alone,” I add. 

He still doesn’t move.

Just as I’m about to yell at him, he says, ever-so-calmly, “He does not cherish you as he should.”

My back goes rigid. “Pardon me?”

“Your husband,” he says, as if he has any right to what he’s saying, as if it’s not blasphemy to be speaking to a married woman this way. “He does not cherish you. The entire dinner, he looked at you once, and the look he gave you was the same as if he was scolding a child.” 

Anger fuels me. There must be a certain level of arrogance to make a man say such a thing. My shock-filled anger must show because he shrugs.

Shrugs.

“I apologize if you do not care for my opinion,” he says, “but I have never been one to hold my tongue.”

I cannot breathe. “You know not of what you speak.”  

"And what is that?" he asks, that smirk remaining. "The truth? I know very well that I speak the truth. It is you that does not want to accept it." 

My jaw aches from how hard it’s clenching. “I believe you are drunk, my lord.”

My hostile tone doesn’t sway him. In fact, it makes his eyes grow brighter. He thinks I’m joking. He must, or he wouldn’t be this ignorant. 

“I may not be sober,” he confesses. “Although, I am far from drunk. Do I look drunk?”

No, he does not, but some people have a certain skill set for hiding their inebriation. Yet, he remains the perfect picture of a gentleman. 

“Leave,” I order, and when he does not, I add, “Please. Do not make me beg.” 

He does not falter. “I would not mind making you beg, Lady Nesta.”

I ignore the way my cheeks heat. “Lady Mandray is what you should refer to me as.”

“Is that the name you truly prefer?” he asks, and that humor dims, if only a little. He’s standing so close to me now that his scent is strong, overpowering me. Mint, with a hint of tobacco. “If so, it is what I will call you, but I fear you prefer Lady Nesta. Perhaps even just, simply, Nesta.” 

Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve been able to control myself for this long. “You must stop speaking to me as if you know me,” I snap. “We do not know each other. You are no friend of mine. The way you are speaking to me is distasteful to say the least. I have never had to endure such an absurd conversation, much less from a member of high society. You should be ashamed of yourself, my lord, to embarrass yourself in front of a lady, to act a fool. If you will not leave me alone, then I shall leave you be.”

I go to take a step around him, but he steps in my path and our bodies nearly collide. 

It’s annoying how he has a habit of doing that.

“Should I scream?” I whisper. It’s meant to be a threat, but my body feels like it’s on fire. “Cry out for help?”

“I have no intention of harming you,” he says, taken aback, as if the idea is ludicrous. I nearly feel bad for insinuating such a thing.

“No,” I say, and I mean it. “I know you would not.” 

He swallows, and neither of us move.

“I will leave you alone,” he says, and his voice is low, reaching my very core. I can feel his breath on my face, the warmth, smelling like expensive red wine. “I apologize if I have overstepped. And you are right. I do not know you, not well, but I have seen glimpses of who you are and that woman is very different from the woman who I saw sitting at that dinner table, next to a man she seems to loathe. I know you well enough to know that you deserve better than a loveless marriage. That is all.” 

“My lord—”

“Fogive me,” he breathes, and he sways forward as my breath catches. 

I called him a fool but it is I who is the fool. I am foolish for wanting this man to kiss me, to touch me, to sweep me into his arms and make me feel something. 

“There is nothing to forgive,” I say, and look from his welcoming lips to his eyes that are watching me so intently that I feel completely nude. 

He leans in closer and the panic sets in.

“I am sorry,” I say, and my voice sounds pathetically broken. “I must go back before Tomas returns.”

As much as I wish to have this moment, long to have this moment, I cannot endure Tomas’ wrath nor can I bear to embarass both myself and my husband before all these guests. I may be foolish, but I am not that foolish. 

Not now, not yet.

One look at me and Lord Cassian nods. There is no judgment in his gaze, there is only understanding.

This time, he bows, and meets my eyes once more before walking away.

“Goodbye, Nesta.”

I do not breathe again until he is completely out of sight. 

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Is Alastor aware of Vox’s children - specifically his daughter?

Personally I interpret that Vox was probably a parent who played favorites [unintentional or intentional] and assuming his relationship with his son was likely strained - Vox gave his daughter more attention & affection. Making the memories pop in a bittersweet way.

I could see Alastor being conflicted, depending on if he knew about Vox’s children before he reduced his former friend turned enemy to static. Alastor assuming he was a terrible father [easy assumption because it’s… Vox lol] and feeling so disgusted with a man who already fell into his distaste. We know Alastor’s daddy issues, I can’t imagine him being comfortable with a [absent father at best, neglectful & emotionally abusive father at worst] around unless he were his little plaything.

I can think of so many ways Alastor could torture Vox psychologically with this knowledge. Gaslighting Vox into thinking a porcelain doll is actually his baby, allowing him to get attached to said doll for a while — only to shatter it right in front of him.

“Oh! Well, you can always make a new one! Haha!”

Alastor’s pettiness levels are 100% showing here as the mentality of “replacing the old with the new” that Vox used to spout out constantly is being used — in reference to his “baby”.

Of course Vox is absolutely distraught, feebly sputtering and trying to pick up the broken pieces of the doll before quickly devolving into pure rage.

“I trusted you! She’s my daughter!”

Alastor is merely grinning, laughing even. Right at Vox’s face. Vox is cursing him out using every word in the book, get violent almost immediately - and if any of the hotel residents are there all Hell will break loose.

Alastor could also just say “Oh she’s dead.” Anytime Vox asks where his daughter is… that’s a lot simple than what I just wrote lol.

But yeah neat little scenario I wanted to explore, I absolutely love love love this AU!! Everything is so well-written and thought out! I hope I didn’t write Alastor too evil, or Vox too pathetic(?) :p

- 🐚

OH JEEZ

Yeah, Vox was... not a great dad. He just wasn't around most of the time and saw his role as breadwinner as the only thing he really needed to do in order to be a Good Father™. He loved his kids in his own, self-absorbed way, but just wasn't involved with them in any meaningful manner. He was never abusive towards them but still managed to traumatize them through the constant, vicious arguments he would get into with their mother. You're right though, he did prefer Sarah (his younger child) to Thomas (his elder child) quite a bit, and she ended up with far more fond memories of him because of it.

Alastor is vaguely aware that Vox was a father when he was alive, but never felt any desire to delve into that aspect of his life. Vox lowkey compulsively overshares with the people he'd attracted to and Alastor ended up learning a lot more about Vox than he really wanted to back when they were friends. I'd never thought about how he would feel about what kind of father Vox was though– that's an interesting concept.

My HC backstory for Alastor is that he was born out of wedlock and never knew his biological father. At age 6, he and his mother left his grandparents' house and moved in with his mother's white cousin and her husband, who agreed to pretend Alastor (who was white-passing) was their son in exchange for his mother working as their maid. When Al was 11, he caught a glimpse of his mother having sex with his "adoptive father"– he'd threatened to kick her and Alastor out of the house if she didn't agree to sleep with him. He grew to loathe the man and eventually smothered him to death while he was recovering from the Spanish Flu that had swept through the house and claimed his mother's life.

With that context, I don't think Alastor would begrudge Vox for being a neglectful father that much since he just sort of sucked in a way that most men from that time period sucked. He'd see Vox's memories of his children in a similar way as he sees Vark; irrelevant and harmless, but a weak point he could easily exploit if he felt it was necessary.

The concept of the doll is fucking brutal. Al would probably be aware of how easily Vox projects memories of Sarah onto various people/things since it happens occasionally with Niffty, but I think that'd be a type of torment restricted to when he's feeling especially sadistic for whatever reason. Alastor thinks of himself as having standards, although he's willing to bend on some of them if he can think of a good justification and already wants to do it. So yeah, basically Vox's kids are off-limits until they're Not anymore.

Thank you for the compliments! I'm glad you're enjoying it! I really appreciate long, elaborate scenarios like this; they give me a chance to talk about so many different things and get me to consider elements that I hadn't previously thought of.

[datura-tea]

i just realized something. my player characters with bethesda-mandated family (lone wanderer gwen and sole survivor sofia) are estranged from that family. meanwhile my couriers (moz, kiwi, and avery) have pretty good relationships with their families :) that's what happens when a backstory isn't forced to your character i guess!!

details under the cut

gwen and james, though stuck in close proximity in the vault for 19 years, are as distant as can be. james has his work, his projects. gwen has all the turbulent drama of childhood and teenage life. they have their moments, but otherwise? nothing much. except for lectures and reprimands, they don't really talk, especially post-james and ellen's divorce. gwen has more of a relationship with ellen and butch than james.

their relationship gets worse topside, when after all gwen has done to get to james is pushed to the side because all james can think of is project purity. so after he dies, what does gwen do? let his pet project die as well. she doesn't even know what the passcode number is, when sarah lyons asks her. how the fuck would she know? her father barely told her anything. she didn't know ellen deloria wasn't her biological mom until after james divorced ellen and told gwen the truth. she's not even sure if he loved her for herself, or if he just loved her the way a parent loves their child - as an extension of themself and their values. now that he's dead, she'll never know for sure.

sofia has a good relationship with her family back home in the philippines, all six siblings and both parents and both sets of grandparents, and countless uncles and aunts and cousins of them. the problem is nate. and shaun, eventually. the thing is, sofia never imagined herself marrying a foreigner, much less a blue-eyed american soldier. she never would have married nate if he hadn't gotten her pregnant. but with abortion being illegal in the philippines, and with nate being "a true gentleman" in his words, there was little else she could do.

in boston, a shotgun wedding. which turned into a loveless marriage pretty quick, once the honeymoon phase wore off. homesickness. morning sickness. anti-asian racist microagressions from neighbors who've never met a filipino before, even though america annexed the philippines decades ago. a miserable life, freshly post-partum and friendless and jobless, all alone in a big house with only a baby and a robot butler for company. who wouldn't fall into a deep depression?

and don't get me started on shaun. sofia placed all her hopes and dreams and joys on meeting her baby boy and watching him grow up, teaching him tagalog and sharing with him all her favorite meals and memories. can you imagine how sofia felt, when he got kidnapped? when she spent her first year in the post-apocalypse relentlessly trying to find him? when she killed kellogg in her rage and grief over him? when, finally, they meet and he isn't a baby but an old man, the leader of the group she's looking to dismantle, and she realizes that he came from her but he's not of her, he doesn't know her and she doesn't know him, and she hates everything he stands for, but still she's his mother and she loves him but she'll never like him? can you imagine???

meanwhile: moz and her big family with her mothers dalisay and philomena, her big brother lakan with his wife guadalupe and their eight kids (all adopted), and her husband ulysses and their child ree, plus everyone in the painted hairs, everyone in their town whom she calls tito and tita and ate and kuya and bunso and totoy and nene :) nothing but love and understanding there!!

kiwi and their family of butchers and tailors - grandmother, father, mother, and brothers, all adept with shiny sharp things. strict but loving, in the "i want what i think is best for you" kind of way. kiwi would have stayed if their father didn't keep forcing the butchershop and their straight marriage to a family friend's daughter on them. honestly if kiwi went home, they'd find their father a changed man - he only wants kiwi to be happy, really; if wearing sequins and being the right-hand man of mr house is the key to that happiness, then so be it!

avery is an only son, raised by a single mother after his ncr ranger father died. he and his mother will defend each other to death - which is why avery set fire to his mother's asshole (now ex-)boyfriend's house when he hurt avery's mom. on the run, avery still writes letters home. he never leaves a return address until after he gains amnesty for his arson charge. by then, his return address is the lucky 38. his mom sends him one hell of a letter. the first thing he does after winning the battle of hoover dam is go home to his mom :)