#this has so much angst in it for no reason

[temilyrights]

43) “god you’re so emotionally constipated.” for Emily x Reader please.

history smothers us

emily prentiss x gn!reader

summary: years of unspoken words and misconceptions threaten to destroy what remains of a once close relationship. you couldn't imagine your life without emily. now you look at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. featuring prompt "god you're so emotionally consitpated" from my prompt list.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mention of blood. no use of y/n. set in season 12. unit chief prentiss.

a/n: thank you so much for the request <3 sorry it took me a while I struggled to find the right idea. I imagine this wasn't what you had in mind but I do hope you enjoy it anyway. also side note: i've deleted my taglist, i'm restarting because it was years old so if anyone would like be re-tagged or anyone new would like to be added pls lmk!

The police lights flash in the midnight sky. Agents and local police spread across the farmhouse. And you, sitting in the back of an ambulance, blood dripping down the side of your head, the beginnings of a headache making itself known.  

The bright torch shining in your eyes makes you wince, but the EMT clears you of a concussion and hands you pain meds to swallow. You drag your hand through your hair, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips. 

The unsub had come out of nowhere and whacked you over the head with a metal pole, and he probably would’ve done a lot more if it wasn’t for Tara being two steps behind you. 

Honestly, you were fine. A little banged up, with a nasty bruise already forming, but the blood had been wiped away and it was almost like it had never happened.

Well, apart from the very angry Unit Chief Prentiss stalking towards you. 

You wish this was an unfamiliar sight, but god she’d been back months now and you don’t think her smile had been pointed in your direction once. 

“What were you thinking?” She scolds, voice sharp and eyes narrowed. You don’t miss the shaking of her hands as she holds them tightly on her hips or the rising flush of her cheeks, both she would blame on the cold but you knew they were born out of concern, not that she’d ever admit it. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise the FBI now required its agents to have the abilities to see through walls.” You roll your eyes, the half-joke an attempt to fix her glare, but you know even as the words pass your lips it’s futile. Your shoulders slump, already tired for the fight ahead,  “He came out of nowhere, Prentiss.” 

Her lips purse, “They require you to be able to clear a room. It seems you might need a refresher course. Maybe until you can be trusted and I deem you requalified it’s best you stay back in quantico.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. Of all the dumb things- “Let me get this straight, you’re benching me over nothing? Tara was through that door seconds later. I wasn’t defying your orders. You have no reason to do this!”

“I want you to redo your basic training so I know you can be trusted in the field.” She demands, stoic, serious, and so far away from the soft woman you used to be able to reach out to. 

You laugh, but the noise is sad and wild. You shake your head in disbelief, watching the woman in front of you that years ago used to be the person you were closest to in the world. Now you stare at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. “God, you’re so emotionally constipated.” 

“Excuse me?” 

You push yourself off the end of the ambulance, bringing yourself to your full height and meeting her gaze. You knew the day she accepted the unit chief position this wouldn’t end well, there was too much history, too much the two of you had left unsaid, hurt and anger smothering any possible relationship left. 

“Let’s not pretend this has anything to do with my performance.” You begin,

words low enough that if she didn’t listen the words threatened to disappear with the wind, “It’s because I got hurt and you’d rather damage my career and ruin the tatters of our relationship than admit that me getting hurt scared you.” 

Emily steps backwards, face stricken. Her hands fall from her hips, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles for words. 

You decide there’s nothing left she can say. You excuse yourself and grab a lift with Luke, happy to leave the crime scene and your boss behind. After everyone’s finished at the farmhouse and packed up at the police station it’s nearing two am and everyone is ordered back to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the flight in the morning. 

Your feet are dragging by the time you make it to your room. The meds have done their job though and your headache had faded away, but nothing but sleep was going to help your heavy and aching bones. You wave a tired goodbye to Tara, who unlike Emily had no issues checking in and making sure you were okay, and then retreat to your room. 

You slump into the chair at the desk, telling yourself you’ll find the energy to get ready for bed in one minute. But so thankful to finally be off your feet. Your reprieve lasts only minutes before a knock sounds at your door. A withered sigh leaves your lips and you consider ignoring it but still find yourself pushing yourself upright and making your way back to the door. 

When you open it, you wish you’d listened to your thoughts. 

“Hi?” You say hesitantly, staring into the tired face of Emily Prentiss. There’s no anger, her shoulders are almost slumped, defeated maybe? You look away, too scared to analyse further. 

“Can I come in?” 

You open the door further allowing her entrance. She smiles, tight lipped at you, nodding her thanks. You close the door and wait for her to speak, pondering how in the hell you both got to awkward silences and forced tight lipped smiles when years ago you two could share looks across the room and know what the other was thinking, spent hours talking and laughing together, how you had built a life and never thought there would be a day that she wasn’t in it with you. 

“We can’t go on like this.” She starts eyes meeting yours before flickering away, “Things between us have not been right since I returned and I think maybe we should clear the air. I want to be the Unit Chief, I want to be back here at Quantico but that only works if we can be a team.” 

You scoff. It slips from your mouth, uncontrolled and harsh. Emily’s gaze snaps to yours, her surprise at the sound clear. You shake your head, “What is there to say?” Where would we even begin?

“I-” She chokes, blinking as the emotions claw at her throat. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Your brows draw in confusion as you shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

“After everything that happened with Doyle-”

Your eyes bulge, “You think I'm still upset about that? God, do you think I’m a monster? You survived. You lived. That’s all that matters.” 

Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her gaze shifting to the wall as her fingers pick at a hangnail. She looks back at you, still picking, gaze more open and lost than you’ve seen in a long time. “Then why? I hurt you. I can see it in the way you can barely stand to be around me, like it hurts you to even be in my presence.” 

You blow out a breath, eyes moving around the room before they land back on her and then away again. “It’s not your fault.” You breathe, emotions lodged in your throat and heart beating wildly against your chest as you try and force the words out. “You didn’t hurt me, I hurt myself. There was never going to be a life I led that you weren’t right with me, you know?” You laugh, wet and broken. 

Emily’s mouth falls open, her eyes emotional pits that you don’t dare hold. 

“And then you left for London and I couldn’t exactly be upset because I had no say in what you did with your life. We were just friends. I knew it’s what you needed and I don’t resent you for that. I just…” You take a breath, “I was so angry at myself for missing you, for thinking that I could be someone you would stay for.��

And there it was. The truth. Because at the end of the day, you’ve always just wanted to be enough for the woman in front of you. For her to see you as more than just your friend. To one day have your feelings returned. 

She’d left and you’d both been busy and you’d deliberately tried to separate yourself as well, drawing back from the painful reminder that you weren’t enough. And since her return, all those emotions have been resurfacing, however much you tried to keep them buried. Because falling out of love with Emily Prentiss was just not something you were capable of, and you’ve spent years trying too. 

Emily approaches you, the space between you closing ever so slightly. Your gaze sticks to the ground, scared to see the easy to read emotions across her face. She takes a breath, the sound muffled by the beating of your heart.

“After I came back from Paris, I used to find myself looking at you and knowing I couldn’t be that woman you remembered, the one you sought for. I wanted to. Desperately.” Her voice hitches, and then lowers to a hoarse whisper, “I wanted to be the woman you fell for.” 

Your eyes finally rise, against your will. Tears make their way in delicate paths down her cheeks, she looks every bit as lost as you feel. The only thing stopping you from falling apart is the fear that if you let go you may never recover. 

“I didn’t need you to be anyone. I just wanted you to be yourself. I wanted you to trust me.” You respond gently.

She shakes her head, “No, everyone was looking for that version of me that I couldn’t grasp onto.”

“Emily,” You sigh painfully. Her face crumples, eyes squeezing shut at the sound of her name from your lips. It’s been so long, you know. “You were healing from a trauma. I’ve always wanted the authentic you, whatever that includes. Why would that suddenly change?” 

She nods, a deep frown on her face as she accepts your words. Then a wet laugh, as she wipes away her tears. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I hate being in the same room as you and it being awkward. I used to be able to look at you and know what you’re thinking. I want that back.” 

A small smile curves your lips, “Me too, more than anything.” 

“Yeah?” She questions. Her teeth run across her lip, as she dares to hope. “You think we could get back there?” 

Your heart hammers. “I just need you to be really clear here. What exactly are we getting back to?” 

She steps forward, finally close enough to touch. Her hand hesitantly reaches out and touches yours, her cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones. Your body remembers her touch, relaxes and leans into it automatically. You eat it hungrily, tracking the movement before your eyes rise to meet hers and find soft, open eyes watching you. “I want to make you fall in love with me again.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand shakes in hers.

“And this time, I promise, I’ll be there to catch you.” 

“We might have a slight problem with that plan.” You laugh, trying your hardest not to sob.

She frowns, nose wrinkling in the way you adore. “What’s that?” 

“It’s pretty difficult to re-fall in love when I never stopped loving you in the first place.” You huff, and Emily laughs, rich and free and bright. Her face joyful and happy, and with the wide bright smile you’ve waited months to feel pointed in your direction. God the sight makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” She asks, hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes full of love and pointed at you. 

You can only nod, dizzy from her attention and the emotions coursing through your body. 

When her lips find yours it feels like finally coming home. Soft and delicate, both too scared to push too hard, exploring slowing even as her hand holds your cheek and yours fists in her shirt. You’ve waited years for this, and if you get more of these than it will be worth it. Everything is worth it for the feeling of Emily in your arms. 

When she pulls away, it’s too soon. You follow her mouth and she concedes and gives you a couple more slow kisses before she stops herself, resting her forehead against yours.

“I just want to say sorry for earlier.” She whispers into the safe space you’ve built. “You were right, I was scared when you got hurt. Dave’s already kicked my ass for my response, you won’t receive any disciplinary action.”

You nod slightly, her forehead moving against yours, “Thank you.” 

“It won’t happen again.” She promises, sealing the words with a kiss to your lips. 

“I know.” You kiss her again, but this time you break out into a yawn midway through. Your momentarily forgotten exhaustion, making itself known. 

She melts against you, caressing your cheek. “Oh, you need to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. I’m taking you out for dinner.” 

You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to take over your face, “A date?” 

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Yes, a date. But only if you sleep first.” 

“Your wish is my command.” You can’t stop the grin from taking over your face anymore. You press a peck to her lips and lead her back towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” She agrees, eyes fluttering over your face as if she’s committing every aspect to memory. “Sleep well.” 

“You too.” 

She presses one last kiss to your lips before she opens the door and makes her exit. You close the door quietly behind her, sinking back into it and allowing the giggle to finally escape your mouth.

What the fuck had just happened. 

Emily Prentiss kissed you. 

Emily Prentiss has feelings for you. 

You weren’t alone.

You bite your lip and push off the door, finally ready to get ready for bed and praying come morning that this would still be your reality.

taglist: @aburman03

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 3: You Trust Me?✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you the next chapter! This has been one of my favorite series to write, and I have so much more in store for these two! Joel is so so soft for reader 🥹 Happy reading! I love nothing more than to read your comments on what you thought, so please consider leaving me comments and reblogs 💕

Chapter Summary: You’ve got so many reasons not to trust another man again in your life, but Joel seems to give you ten for why you should trust him. One of them being calming a panic attack in the middle of a parking lot.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, mentions of an acoustic guitar, panic attacks at the store

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The long days seem to dwindle by with your heart still lodged deep in your throat. It doesn’t seem to matter that the calming rain patters on your foggy window, doesn’t matter that fall used to be your favorite season. You feel hollow, torn apart piece by piece with every second that brushes past your icy skin. 

   You feel broken. You are broken. And you’re not sure anything will ever fix that. 

   Every day you find something new that’s too hard to manage to get your body to do. Brushing your teeth, getting yourself dressed, making yourself eat when all you can stomach is the empty feeling inside you. You’re just so tired of fighting, so very exhausted of trying to just get by. But your body screams at you to fight. 

   Fight for yourself. Win. Get out of bed, eat, make an effort to survive. So, you do. You try because that’s all you hear ringing in the back of your mind. You have to keep going. Don’t let Angela or any of the ones that dragged you down keep you from thriving. 

   Live. 

   Today is like all the other days you fight to not let your depression win. Except today marks two weeks that you’ve been here. Two weeks that you’ve survived. And as much as you feel like giving up every second of every day, you always seem to find one tiny reason to get out of bed. Joel seems to be that reason. 

   Joel… and his warm cups of coffee. The kind that he douses in creamer and sugar and caramel just for you. Because that’s how you like it. And it never fails. Every single morning your cup is there just waiting for you, including Joel’s warm smile and soft brown eyes…

   That’s your reason for getting out of bed. Joel. 

   You discovered that Joel reported you as found to the police department a few days ago. You should feel relieved that he did that, but it didn’t matter. There was no one looking for you, so it didn’t make a damn bit of a difference. No one was coming to get you… Nobody even tried reaching out which makes you feel that much worse.

   You battle with yourself, wrestling your way to slide on a pair of black leggings, along with a long cashmere sweater that falls clear down your thighs. You fight to comb the knots from your hair, clenching your teeth with every painful drag of the brush. 

   Fight. Win. Don’t let them control you.

   Flexing your trembling hands, you squeeze a generous amount of spearmint toothpaste onto your purple toothbrush and jam it into your mouth, scraping it back and forth until you don’t taste the bitter aftertaste of almost two years in captivity. 

   Your fingers tremble beneath you with every slide of the toothbrush, every clinking noise against your teeth making you gag at the memories of you being left alone with disgusting men in a tiny bathroom against your will. It’s too much, this is too much. So you rinse your mouth and scamper out of the bathroom, closing the door until you can’t feel the goosebumps rising on your skin anymore. 

   You’re safe. They’re not here. You’re free. But you don’t feel free because those painful memories are alive in your mind, painting vivid pictures that make you instantly want to vomit and recoil into bed. But you don’t let the monsters take you back down into the darkness. You flee to sunlight and hope. You make your way to something that makes you feel lighter, where you can breathe easier, to something that gives you hope. 

   And that something is Joel.

   You smell the fresh coffee brew in the air, inhaling the rich scent as if you can already taste it. When you turn the corner you see Joel’s broad back to you, busy with the coffee machine and the daily newspaper, his large hand brushing past the blur of small-print words. 

   Instead of stopping to say good morning to him, you decide to venture down the hall. You haven’t been brave enough to really take in the house and explore, but now? Maybe you could try. 

   The sunlight shines through the open glass windows, making the photographs and hanging art glitter like specks of gold surrounding the black frames. Your eyes skim the family photographs, taking in Joel’s big smile in each of them. One is of him and Tommy, arms clasped around each other’s backs with a little girl standing in front of them, who you suppose is Sarah. Her dark curls spiral to her shoulders while she wraps an arm around her dad. 

   They look so happy, like a normal family who has never been broken. You wish yours looked like that. But again, it never was. You were always surrounded by screaming parents, right on the brink of a divorce while you’d stay tucked in your room with your hands covering your ears, praying for the noise to just stop. 

   But it stopped alright. It stopped the moment they crashed their car on top of a mountain and left you to fend for yourself at your uncle’s house. An uncle that never loved you. An uncle that abandoned Washington the moment you moved out at just eighteen-years-old. And then he did too…

   You keep moving, holding your composure and tears in. Even though you feel like collapsing right in this spot, right under Joel’s family picture. A family that was still together to this day while yours was nonexistent. 

   You wish you still had a family, but you never really did in the first place. Did you? No. Mom was always too busy with looking perfect, constantly obsessing with lessening her wrinkles and getting plastic surgery. And dad? Well, he was always too busy working at the law firm and hooking up with his assistant behind mom’s back. You were always left to fend for yourself, so now isn’t any different than it’s ever been. 

   You’re alone. You’ve always been alone, always just survived. Ever since you were little, that’s all you’ve known — how to be independent and just make it. So what’s different now? Now you just have to swim through the trauma and hope you don’t drown in the process. Because this right now is too much to handle, even for you. 

   It’s too fucking much.

   Choking down the held back tears, you make your way down the long hallway, your body moving on autopilot just to escape the visions that blur into muted noise. The pristine white walls clash against the polished floors, painting you a picture of hope. Something you’ve never really had before. 

   Keep fighting. Live. Make a change. Break the cycle. 

   Holding on to new hope, you keep going until you turn the corner and find a large, open room that makes you audibly gasp. All memories of broken families and internal fears are suddenly forgotten, pushed aside to take in this glorious sight. 

   Holy shit. 

   Towering mahogany bookshelves sit stacked against the white walls, the cascading windows letting in enough sunlight to reflect off the broken-in spines of each book. Two plush ivory oversized chairs sit in the corner of the room, one opposite the other. An electric fireplace sits idle against one of the bookshelves, draped in vines from the tropical plant that splays atop the bookshelf nearest the fireplace. 

   This room is… magical. Exactly what you needed. An escape from reality. An escape from your mind. 

   You trace lines against the smooth covers of the various books, feeling the cracked spines and intricate cursive letters on some of the older books. There’s genres of everything you could ever imagine. Starting from ancient history and going all the way to popular fictional books that you’d see on New York’s best seller’s lists. This room has everything. 

   You could get lost in here.

   Forgetting where you are, your hand snaps back when you hear a deep chuckle behind you. “Thought I heard you come down this mornin’. See you found one of my favorite rooms.”

   When you turn around, you see him smiling over at you, the glow of the sun making his brown eyes sparkle an almond brown honey color. If you’re being honest with yourself, it makes you feel a little lighter because his eyes are so warm. 

   He’s warm. 

   “These are all yours?” you ask with a gasp as your finger continues to trail against the golden spine of an old history book. 

   “All mine. Well, a lot of ‘em I got for Sarah. You see, she’s a bit of a bookworm, and she might’ve got me into the classics. So, now I’m jus’ as bad as her,” he laughs as he leans against the bright wall, his smile light and easy like the relaxed state he’s in now. 

   “This place, it’s incredible,” you breathe out, continuing to skim over the spotless shelves, your fingertips clashing with leather and the feel of worn pages. It smells like freedom and escape, someplace where you could stay buried for days. 

   He runs his fingers through his slicked back curls, bicep flexing against his dark blue flannel, an easy smile hanging on his lips. This might be the most relaxed you’ve seen him since you came here. He looks almost… happy the way he’s looking at you all light and carefree, like he’s enjoying the view. Like he’s happy that you’ve found something else you lost. 

   “You like it?” he asks, his eyes caramel pools that you could almost sink into. 

   “I love it,” you reply enthusiastically, your voice almost unrecognizable. 

   A warm smile spreads on his mouth, making his brown eyes sparkle that much more in the dewy sunlight. “Then it’s yours, sweetheart. Borrow anything you want, read what you want.”

   “Really?” you ask with a raised brow, sliding a book back into its place on the second shelf.

   “Really,” he nods with a smile.

   “Joel, thank you. This is… this is perfect.”

   “Jus’ glad I found someone I can share my books with again.” 

   You stay just like that for the next minute — Joel on the other end of the room, looking back at you with the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. It makes your heart flutter, makes you want to smile back, but you just give him a tight-lipped smile and look back at the cream rug covering the floor, suddenly too shaky to say anything else.

   Your eyes snap to something hidden in the corner of the room, a ray of sunlight hitting at just the right angle to make out something you missed entirely when you walked in. You guess you were too enamored by the books to notice the acoustic guitar sitting neatly on a stand right by the sheer curtain hanging over the window. 

   “Is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the acoustic guitar.

   “Oh. Yeah, s’mine.” His eyes fall to the dark wood, the body glossy and sleek as it shines against the draped curtain. A splash of sunlight makes it shimmer for just a moment, until rain clouds cover the sun and cast the guitar back in shadows.

   “You play guitar?” you question curiously as he takes a long, slow stride across the room. 

   “I used to. A long time ago.”

   You watch him make his way over to the guitar. It’s like he’s tiptoeing across glass, careful in his steps to not trip and cut his tanned skin up. That’s how it seems when he hesitantly reaches out to glide his fingertips down the tight strings, skimming his thumb meticulously against the smooth surface of the polished neck as if he’s memorizing every single particle of the instrument. Like he’s reliving something he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world to see.

   He’s quiet as he analyzes the guitar, almost like he’s reliving memories that only he can see. Were they good or bad ones? Judging by his wary stance and slow movements, you wonder if maybe they’re fragile memories.

   “Used to?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb whatever storm’s blowing through his mind. 

   “‘S’right. Haven’t played in quite some time,” he answers defeatedly as his thumb tracks along the outline of a carved moth. He lingers there for a moment, pinching his eyebrows together as if he’s trying to fight off whatever images are haunting his mind. 

   He looks… sad. Looks as if that guitar holds years of painful memories. 

   “Why’d you stop?” you push, afraid you’ve just struck a nerve by the way his back muscles tense and his jaw clenches up. 

   His hand wraps around the neck of the guitar, veins bulging in his neck as his eyes grow a shade darker. In the flit of sunshine that creeps through the window, you see a glimmer that looks a lot like a held back tear in the center of his right eye. That in itself sends a shot of pain through your chest. 

   He clears his throat and takes a step back, just enough to where he can only graze the edge of the guitar. His dark brown eyes are in a faraway place when he replies hesitantly. “It jus’—it… I guess it’s got a few memories attached to it that makes it hard to play now.”

   When he drops his hand to his side and looks up at you, you see a man who’s hurting deep inside. You can see it in his weathered stare, in the dark circles beneath his sad brown eyes, in the way his bottom lip twitches each time his gaze falls on that acoustic guitar. 

   There’s something he lost, too. You just don’t know what. 

   Before the room gets too stifling and stuffy, he shakes off his frown and nods toward the hallway. “C’mon, I’ve got your coffee waitin’ on the counter for you. Don’t want it to get cold now.”

   “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

   He gives you a tight-lipped smile and exits the room, leaving you all alone once again. You find yourself looking back at the guitar, your eyes feeling heavy as you stare at the little moth ingrained into the smooth wood. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach drop. 

   This guitar was special to him, maybe it still is. You just wonder what can make a big, strong man like him crumble. You don’t want to see him turn to dust like you; you’ve got enough pain for the both of you. He doesn’t deserve pain. He’s too… good. And while he doesn’t technically wear his heart on his sleeve, you can see he keeps the pain hidden behind a mask. 

   Maybe one day he’ll show you his scars, too.

   When you make your way back to the kitchen, your warm cup of coffee is sitting right there on the quartz island, the steam billowing out as if he just poured it. As you slip into your chair, you notice his shoulders are more relaxed and the weathered stare he had back in that room is nearly gone. Whether he put on a mask or tucked his feelings deep inside his pockets to where you can’t see, you still notice the dark lines that edge beneath his brown eyes.

   Something hurt him, and it still haunts him to this day. 

   Slowly taking a sip of the sugary drink, your eyes snap up to him when you hear the deep timbre of his voice. “Used up the rest of the caramel this mornin’.” 

   You swallow the coffee down your throat and shift forward on the barstool. “Already?”

   He chuckles and nods his head your way. “Apparently someone who’s got a sweet tooth used it all. Can’t imagine who that was.” He winks at you, and you can feel the bright blush stain your cheeks the wider his smile gets. 

   Clearing your throat, you push a lock of hair behind your ear and try to stop the red tint from spreading any further. “Looks like you found the culprit.”

   “Looks like it,” he smiles, his lips tugging at his tanned skin, making a deep dimple press into the middle of his cheek. You can’t help yourself, so you give him a shy smile back in return. It seems to make his brown eyes sparkle that much brighter as he stares at you. 

   You take a few more sips of the caramel drink, enjoying every single drop like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Joel sets down his glass cup and bites his bottom lip, chewing nervously as he glances over at you. “I need to go pick up some things at the grocery store today. Shouldn’t take long at all, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come along with me?”

   You choke on a sip of coffee and struggle to find your words. You haven’t been out in the real world in a very long time. You don’t even know how to even interact, nonetheless see strangers passing by you. 

   Tapping your nails nervously against the glass cup, you fight to get the words out. “Oh. You… want me to go to the store with you?”

   “Only if you want. Figured you’d wanna pick some things out.” 

   “Umm. Okay. Sure. I can go with you,” you breathe out nervously, pushing all your fears down as you swallow back the answer you really wanted to say.

   “Alright. Well, how’s ‘bout you finish up breakfast, and we can go after you get ready?” His thumb brushes over the curve of his coffee cup, and your eyes track his movements as he slowly brings the edge to his lips. 

   And then you’re swallowing back fears again and dropping your eyes to the floor, awaiting the panic that’ll surely flood your system when you get to the store. 

   You can do this. Fight the fear. 

   Biting the bullet, you look up and give him a slight nod. “Okay, after breakfast.”

   Joel grins and turns back to the refrigerator, away from your now wide eyes. You’re suddenly regretting your choice, but you have to go through with it. You have to be brave. For yourself. 

   You can do this. 

   Light rain patters on the passenger window, sending water droplets splashing along the side mirror. It’s only sprinkling, but the thunder in the near distance makes it seem like it might pour down at any second. 

   The engine hums as the wheels roll on the pavement, green trees blurring as Joel drives along the long, straight road. An old country song seeps through the speakers as Joel’s thumb taps along to the catchy tune. It’s oddly peaceful, driving with him in his truck. It almost makes you forget the nerves crawling up your spine. 

   “Does it always rain this much in Texas? I thought it was supposed to be like a desert here,” you ask, your eyes tracking the sea of trees outside your window.

   “Usually is. Hell, we’re usually in a drought. But for some reason, we’ve been gettin’ a record amount this year. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he says as he continues driving through the mist.

   “That’s strange.” You trace the condensation on the window and draw little lines, hoping you’ll forget you’re about to go out in public. 

   “You must’ve brought some rain from Washington.” He smiles over at you and continues tapping his thumb along to the rhythm of the upbeat song. 

   “Guess I did,” you laugh under your breath as you finish off your window art of a blooming flower.

   The music goes silent as Joel turns down the radio with the pad of his index finger. When you turn to look at him with questions in your eyes, he clears his throat and looks warily over at you. “Do you… do you miss it?”

   “Miss what?” you whisper, letting your fingers pull against the edge of your warm sweater. 

   “Washington,” he responds back, eyes flicking between you and the road ahead.

   You take a moment to envision the forest green trees, the frigid air by the edge of the sea, the cliffsides you used to hang over to stare into the deep blue ocean. And that’s when you feel a sharp pain jab inside your chest. “Sometimes… I miss the waterfalls, the salty breeze of the ocean, the beautiful nature. I’ve never seen a state as gorgeous as Washington. And how green it is? Yeah, I guess I do miss it…”

   The front of the truck grows quiet as Joel takes in your answer. His palm rakes against his dark beard slowly, brushing across his mouth like he’s thinking really hard about your answer. And just when you think he’ll drop the conversation, he says something that leaves you speechless.

   “I’ll take you back.”

   Your eyes blow wide as you repeat the sentence in your head. I’ll take you back. Why would he do that…

   “What?” you ask, jaw dropped like you just got slapped in the face. 

   He gives you a small smile and looks over at you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “When you’re ready, that is. And only if you want to go back. I could help you get your feet back on the ground, find you a nice place where you’ll be comfortable. If that’s what you want.”

   You stare at him dumbstruck, your words lodged deep in your throat with every second that ticks by. He’ll take you back. But why would he do that for you? Why would he do what no one else would? Why does he care what happens to you…

   “Joel, that’s—that’s too much. I can’t ask you to do that,” you protest, shaking your head like what he just said is impossible.

   He shakes his head, making a sandy lock of hair fall against the side of his forehead. “It’s not too much, and I’d do it in a heartbeat. S’no trouble,” he says adamantly, like he won’t hear anything else about it. It’s settled for him.

   “Thank you…” you whisper out, your voice barely audible above the hum of the engine. 

   He arches an eyebrow and looks over at you, tugging his lips into an easy smile. “Ya know, gonna have to get you your own car, too.”

   “Joel,” you warn through clenched teeth. He is not getting you a car. Absolutely no way.

   “What?” he shrugs. “You can’t get around without a car.”

   You shake your head unbelievably and open your mouth wide. “I can’t pay for a car.”

   “‘M not askin’ you to. I’ve got money.”

   And again, you can’t believe how insistent and easy-going he’s taking this. “Joel. I can’t ask you for a car. Absolutely not. And besides, I’m not ready to drive yet.”

   He flashes you a smile and gives you a nod of encouragement. “S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get there in time. And when you do, you’ll have a car.”

   You lick your bottom lip, frustrated slightly that he’s being so kind to you. No one has ever been this nice in your entire life. Not even your parents… Why is he treating you like you’re important? You’ve never been important. So why does he act like you’re the only thing that currently matters? 

   “There’s no stopping you, is there?” you give up, your back flush to the warm seat as you stare into deep brown eyes that belong to the kindest man you’ve ever met. 

   He thinks you’re important. 

   “Not a chance,” he chuckles, his airy laugh floating through the cabin of the truck, striking another nerve in your heart. 

   He’s so kind, more than that. He genuinely wants you to thrive, to live. That takes a little weight off your heavy chest.

   It’s quiet for a moment, only the light wind and patter of raindrops taking up the space. But then he shifts uncomfortably and flicks his wandering eyes back over at you. There’s a deep crease between his thick eyebrows, and that look has you back on the edge of your seat. “Can I ask you somethin’?” he asks delicately.

   You swallow back nerves and nod your head in response. “Umm, okay. Sure.���

   “What, umm. What happened to your parents, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

   The question makes you tilt a little off your axis, throws you off just enough to where your right hand is discreetly clenched so tight around the side of the seat that you swear it turns pale white. You weren’t prepared for that question. You’re never prepared. But, you might as well just spill it. What else do you have to lose? 

   “They—they died when I was fifteen… Crashed their car on the side of a mountain, and they ended up rolling off the edge. On the very same day they were driving to get a divorce…”

   His eyes blow wide for a second and in the next he’s dragging a heavy hand over his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. ‘M so sorry. That’s… traumatic.”

   You can’t help but to puff out a pathetic laugh from that. Your life has been nothing but traumatic; you just learn to live through it. 

   You silently nod and continue on. “After I found out, the judge decided I’d go live with my uncle. An uncle who barely talked to me. He didn’t even want me there, but I had no other options. So, I left as soon as I turned eighteen and moved into a dorm when I went to college.”

   “Is he still…”

   “He moved out of Washington as soon as I left. Last I heard, he died from a heart attack. So I’ve just kinda been on my own since I was eighteen. But really, I’ve been alone for much longer than that.”

   The inside of the truck goes completely silent, except the quiet hum of the purring engine. You don’t exactly like talking about your family drama and your awful past, but it’s easier when you already feel dead inside. Maybe if you talk enough Joel will decide to drop you off on the side of the street and leave you with a good luck wave. 

   He wouldn’t do that, though. That’s just your unhinged mind spiraling like your entire life is.  

   “That’s… fuck. No one should ever be put through that. What you did, what you had to do. M’so sorry.”

   You shrug it off and act like you’re just fine, but really you just don’t want to cry. You don’t want to show him how weak and pathetic you truly are. You used to be stronger than this… 

   Holding in a sob, you play it off like it’s nothing. “It’s alright. I mean, I’ve been through a lot worse since then. I guess I’m good at being alone…”

   It gets quiet again, only light breathing and shifting uncomfortably in your seat, trying to hide the pain that’s serenading through your body. Joel’s eyes keep flicking over to you, a pained expression masking his tanned face. He’s clenching his jaw, running his fingers through his dark locks, fisting the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. 

   His head turns to you when he’s stopped at a red light, and his eyes turn a lighter honey color, and those soft eyes nearly shatter you in your seat. “You don’t have to be. Alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore...”

   You swallow back the tears building in your eyes while your mouth drops open in awe. Before you even get the chance to say anything, he’s stepping on the gas and looking back into the fog of the rainy day. 

   You don’t have to be alone anymore. 

   The rest of the ride is silent as you contemplate his words and their meaning. You don’t have to be alone. He means you don’t have to be alone because he’s here now. He won’t let you be alone. Joel is the one person who isn't giving up on you. 

   He’s so patient, so generous, so good. He’s too good for you but here he is, wading through the rough waters to make sure your head’s above the waves. He won’t let you drown. Not today, maybe not ever…

   After a few more minutes, the truck is abruptly stopping, and Joel is cutting the engine. Your head lurches up, and you stare vacantly at the semi-busy parking lot. 

   The parking lot…

   It looks just like the one you got taken from… Rows of parked cars sit along the damp cement, empty carts are scattered ahead in the little blue cart holder, people rush to and from the store back to their cars. And then you see a man exit his white Sedan with a black baseball cap backwards on his head. The sight has you flinching, your nails digging into the leather of the seat when he turns his head and looks directly at you. It’s only for a second, but you feel those black pits searing into your skull just like that day they took you…

   “Well, here we are. A little more crowded than I thought it’d be for a Wednesday afternoon. We can jus’—.”Joel’s hand clasps the side of the driver’s door as he steps out, looking back at you with worried brown eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

   It’s like your voice is lurched deep in your throat as water consumes your entire vocal cords. You can’t swallow, can’t speak, can barely even blink as you watch the shady man cross the road, taking one look back at you until he disappears behind the clear sliding doors of the store. And it still feels like he’s watching you, planning his next move to where he can get you alone. 

   You remember that day all over again, just like it was yesterday. And now, all you can think of to do is panic.

   “N… no. I—.” You can’t even finish your sentence, only able to throw your seatbelt off and claw at the door handle, feeling like you’re suffocating on thick air that nearly strangles you to death. 

   You need to flee, run until your lungs collapse, but you have nowhere to go. 

   Tears well in your eyes as you fight to push out the images of the day you were taken, but they only push back harder, igniting your memories into fresh ones. You’re hyperventilating, holding your chest so tightly that you feel your heart skyrocket as you shake in your seat while your feet are planted on the wet cement of the parking lot. 

   Joel hurries around the side of the truck and throws your door open, trying his best to calm you down. “Hey, hey. It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe for me.”

   “Joel… I…”

   “Breathe,” he coaxes in a soothing bravado voice. He kneels down in front of you to where he’s looking right up at you, and he’s got those soft brown eyes — the ones that always seem to calm you down. And when you have enough courage to lift your eyes, there they are. Warm, brown, soft, soothing. He’s soothing. 

   “That’s it. Take a nice deep breath for me. Jus’ like that. Attagirl,” he praises, keeping his honey-colored eyes right on you. 

   “I—I was…” you start but like always, you can’t finish. 

   You’re pathetic.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. M’right here. Jus’ breathe for me. And when you’re ready, tell me what’s wrong.” His hand brushes past your feet, close enough to touch your exposed ankle, but he never does. Because he knows better. He knows it’ll just set off a string of catastrophic events that’ll only lead you into a deeper black hole than you already are. 

   But yet, you can’t help but want it. Because you feel how warm he is. Just like that night he carried you to the bathroom. You remember how warm and comforting you felt with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, remember his woodsy cologne drowning out your fight or flight panic, remember how gentle he was with you…

   You slowly lift your eyes up and push away the screaming voices in your mind. They seem to come to a jarring halt when you meet those soft brown eyes and a face you swear has an angelic glow about it. His fingers flex against the floorboard, just enough to where you can feel the warmth from his tanned skin, and just that motion causes your heart to still for just a beat. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. 

   After a few more seconds of steady breaths and his heavy gaze honing in on you, you get enough courage to shakily let your words out. “I was—I was taken in a parking lot just like this. In the middle of the day. And I—I guess I wasn’t quite ready to see another one.”

   He falls silent, and his face drops like he’s just seen a ghost. His eyes glaze over as a heavy hand rakes down his clipped beard, slowly dragging it over his lips as he takes in your words. “Oh. Christ, m’so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think ‘bout that before I brought you here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

   Shaking your head back and forth, you swallow and grimace. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d freak out. But then the memories hit me and I—I… it’s my fault. It’s all my—.”

   He leans into the side of the truck, careful not to touch you, but still close enough to where you can almost taste his woodsy breath. “Shh. Don’t for a second think of apologizin’, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Not one fuckin’ bit of it.”

   He looks at you so intensely, so cautiously that you can clearly see the amber flecks that swirl under the cloudy skies, his jaw flexing back and forth as he searches for more to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything. You feel what he’s feeling. Regret, rage, sorrow. He wishes it never happened to you.

   You take a shaky breath and glance up behind him, right as an older couple with two kids clinging to their arms passes peacefully by. A car door slams shut across the way, and it makes you jump in place, remembering that very moment you were corralled into a black van as the door slammed shut behind you, warning you that you were trapped.

   As you cringe in your seat and feel your knuckles go white, you whisper, “I’m scared, Joel. I can’t—I can’t...”

   “Hey. Can you look up at me?” he asks gently, slightly brushing the pad of his thumb against the side of your shoe. When you look up with watery eyes, he gives you an encouraging nod. “There ya go.”

   Your body is trembling with every swift movement and every screeching halt of tires in the parking lot. You start to drift back into a panic, but Joel sees right through you and pulls you right back out with his chocolate brown eyes.

   “Keep your eyes on me. Right on me. That’s it. Such a brave girl,” he coos; his voice sounding like a melodic tune that vanishes all your dark thoughts from wrapping their tangled vines completely around your stirred mind. 

   As you continue to stare at those beautiful caramel eyes, you get lost in the sound of his Southern drawl. “I want you to focus on one thing. It can be anything. A scent, a color, whatever brings you comfort. And I want you to focus on that one thing until your mind starts to quiet down.”

   You look around the truck, searching the fresh leather, letting your eyes wander to a nearby green tree, focusing on some drifting stormy clouds that cover the sun. But none of that makes you feel good or even remotely calm, so you let your eyes wander to the rugged, Southern gentleman who’s kneeling right in front of you, begging with those soft brown eyes for you to get even just a semblance of a second of peace. 

   Warm. He’s so warm.

   You get lost in his cinnamon, woodsy scent, fade into his coffee-colored eyes and feel like you’re crashing right into him. You can’t seem to stop staring, almost like you’re under a lovesick spell, but really it’s just your body telling you he is what brings you comfort. Joel Miller, the man who saved you from your impending doom. 

   So, that’s what you focus on. Him and his warm brown eyes.

   “Okay,” you finally whisper out, never dropping your eyes from his.

   He looks at you a second and tilts his head, making sure he heard you right. “You got it?”

   “Mhm,” you hum back.

   A faint smile appears on his mouth and then his hand is skimming the brim of the floor, close enough for you to feel the electricity from his touch zapping your leggings. But still, he doesn’t dare touch you. He’d never do it without your permission. You know this now. 

   “Now, close your eyes and picture that one thing that’s gonna drown out everything else,” he says through the light rain pattering on the tips of his broad shoulders, right onto his soft blue flannel. 

   “Joel…” you reply back leery. 

   “You trust me?” he asks with knit together eyebrows.

   You chew your bottom lip for a second before you answer, throwing the question back and forth between your brain. “I—yes.”

   He gives you a smile and nods. “Close ‘em for me then. Jus’ for a second.” You do exactly as he says.

   When your eyes are fully shut, his Southern drawl floats through your ears. “Focus on my voice, sweetheart. Focus on how still it is; make your heart that same rhythm. Slow it down, jus’ like my words.”

   You focus on every breath he breathes, every sound of the shift of his shoulders, every whisk of the wind sweeping through his tousled curls. For this moment, every single other restless sound outside the truck is silent. For the first time, all you hear is him.

   You center your mind on him and him alone. And when that whiff of cedar trees and mahogany swirl all around you, you relax and breathe him in like he’s the last thing you’ll ever smell.

   “Now, open your eyes,” he says after you lose track of time. 

   You slowly lift your eyelids and look out beneath your lashes as those bright brown eyes send you into a cloud of serenity. And in that moment, you really do feel like you’re home. 

   “There ya go, nice and slow. Feel that? Things are a bit quieter now,” he says gently, giving you a soft smile that makes you choke back tears. 

   Nodding, you reply, “Yeah, it actually is quieter.”

   It’s quiet for a beat as you sit there, your palms on your thighs, fingers digging into your leggings, but his presence right in front of you is oddly calming. Just like taking a deep breath of Washington air in the mountains. You swear you almost smell those pine trees like you’re there, but it’s Joel you smell.

   “You feel a little better?” he asks, scratching his fingers down his greying scruff, brown eyes flicking up at you like you’re the most important thing in the room.

   “Yes,” you nod, still trying to wrap your mind around how quickly Joel was able to calm you down. 

   “See? Knew you could do it.” His smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and it makes you give him a shy smile in return. 

   When’s the last time someone was able to get you to smile? You can’t even remember. 

   “I did it because you helped me,” you confirm, wanting to make sure he knows he was the reason you had the courage to break through your panic attack.

   “That’s right, sweetheart. I helped you, but you were the one that broke the panic attack. You’re so very brave, and I hope you know that.”

   You’re so brave. He called you brave.

   The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat. All soft and gentle and warm. You’ve never been around a man like Joel. Never once knew how good a man could be. But Joel, he’s like an angel sent from Heaven’s gates just for you. Or so it seems. 

   You swore to never trust a man again, but you can trust him. 

   “Now, you think you can make it in the store?” He tilts his head in the direction of the sliding doors, just as a young couple walks in with an empty grocery basket.

   Gulping some courage down, you nod. “I—I think so.”

   “Attagirl. Now, c’mon.” He holds the door open for you and calls your name softly, giving you that jolt you need to exit the truck. “It’s alright. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. Not while I’m here.”

   “You promise?” you ask when your feet hit the concrete, your voice shaky like you don’t quite believe him, but you do.

   “Promise,” he nods, his crow’s feet pulling at the corners of his bright eyes. It’s enough to get your legs moving.

   “Okay,” you whisper.

   You follow closely on his heels, your fingertips grazing the bottom of his flannel, close enough to grab on if you need to. Your heart is galloping a thousand miles an hour with every step you take, but his woodsy scent is just enough to quiet down the yelling in your head.

   When you get to the edge of the sliding doors, you freeze when they open to a busy grocery store. The loud noises of rustling bags and screeching wheels of carts is enough to make you want to run the opposite way.

   Joel must sense your worry because he brushes his arm next to yours and looks down at you with knitted eyebrows. “S’alright. I’m gonna be right by your side every step of the way. You can do this.”

   You can do this. 

   Looking up into his syrupy brown eyes gives you that little bit of strength to get you moving again. And when he grabs a shopping cart and beckons you to follow him, you do.

   “Thanks for believing in me, Joel,” you say graciously.

   “Always.”

   You keep right by his side, the fluorescent lights feeling like spotlights shining down on you. It’s like every single person shifts their eyes toward you, faces distorted and smiling like they’re laughing at your fear. The music that filters out of the speakers makes your ears ring. Children run rampant around a restless mother, a tall man with a backwards baseball cap reaches across a barrel full of pineapples, and it’s as if he’s reaching for your wrist. 

   Without thinking, you grab on to the end of Joel’s flannel and tug it toward you, digging your fingers into the soft cotton as if it’s a safety blanket. The smell of fresh firewood and green grass envelops your senses and for the moment, everything becomes a little more still. 

   “You keep tuggin’ on my flannel and you’re gonna pull it right off,” Joel chuckles, giving you a small smile as he looks back at you. 

   “Oh, sorry,” you apologize, dropping your fingers as if you just upset him. 

   “Don’t gotta apologize. You jus’ hang on if that’s what you need right now.”

   You slowly reach back up and flex your fingers around the blue material, peeking up hesitantly beneath your lashes. 

   “Your flannel, it smells like the forest. Reminds me of the mountains in Washington. It umm… it calms me down.”

   “Well then, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Those pools of honey liquid melt you on the spot; his warm smile takes the edge of fear off your chest for just that moment. And when that whiff of autumn from his white t-shirt floats through the air, it’s like he saved you all over again. 

   He drops his hands from the shopping cart and starts unbuttoning his flannel, carefully shrugging it off his broad shoulders as you stare blankly up at him. And then, he’s holding out the faded blue material to you.

   “No, I can’t. I’m fine. I—.” You take a step back and press a palm his way.

   “Here, put it on,” he insists, stretching his arm until you have no option but to take it.

   “Are you sure?” you squeak out, unsure of yourself.

   “Mhm. Want you to feel safe. And if this makes you feel a little calmer, want you to wear it.”

   Hesitating, you carefully pluck it from his reach and end up sliding your hand against the back of his, feeling a tingle of a spark from his worn, calloused skin.

   “Thanks, Joel,” you whisper above the monotone music playing over the store speakers.

   “Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.” He nods his head toward the produce section and smiles. “C’mon.”

   You stay right beside him, almost flush to his hip with every wavering stride you take, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. No, he just keeps his brown eyes flickering over to you every minute that ticks by, encouraging you with that kind smile of his, telling you with the curve of his lips that you’re doing so well. You can almost hear that Southern drawl sliding off his tongue. 

   I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Look at you, bein’ the bravest girl I know. 

   Even though he’s not verbally saying those things at this second, you can tell he’s thinking it with the way his doe eyes soften every time they look your way. You can tell by how warm and kind his essence is, how his smile seems to send a flicker of sunshine your way even behind a thick wall of grey clouds. 

   He’s just… safe. You feel so safe around him, and that’s something you’ve never felt in your entire life. You’ve never been safe. But with him, you just might be.

   The clicking of heels and the stare of curious eyes makes you physically cringe and tense your shoulders, thinking one of them will snatch you away yet again. You keep your mind busy by counting the threads of Joel’s blue flannel, training your eyes on his slicked back tan curls, meticulously staring at every single strand that’s wrapped in a silver glow. It seems to help, gives the impression that maybe you can do this. And you are. 

   At times when he strays too far, you reach for him unintentionally. It’s like your hand is magnetized to the feel of his cotton shirt, your fingers curling into the thick material. And again, he doesn’t seem to mind, only smiles and goes on with gathering groceries. 

   He doesn’t forget the caramel, doesn’t forget to grab a few bottles of vanilla creamer and extra sugar. In fact, those were the things he went for first. 

   He doesn’t forget things. Doesn’t forget what you wanted. And that in itself proves something. What, you’re not sure. But it proves he cares, that you do know.

   You follow him to the produce section and watch him shift his focus on picking the best meat, promising to get the best steak for dinner. You haven’t had steak in years, and you don’t doubt for one second that Joel can cook a mean one. 

   Averting your eyes from his pensive stare and flexed jaw, your gaze wanders over to the cereal aisle, and you suddenly have the biggest craving for a box of Cocoa Pebbles.  

   Saliva gathers in your mouth as you think of how sugary and good and delightful a mouthful of chocolatey goodness would taste right now. Without thinking, you pull on the end of his shirt, stretching the material mindlessly as your brain transfixes on the mountain of sugar just a few feet away. It’d be so easy to go grab a box, but your feet won’t move, your words won’t form because you’re terrified to be alone for even a second in a grocery store of all places.

   With one more slight tug on the edge of his t-shirt, he turns with a soft expression and questions, “What is it, sweetheart?” No anger or hint of annoyance in his Southern drawl, just pure warmth. 

   Your voice stays silent, your immense stare fixed on that aisle of sugar and thousands of calories you’d happily inhale. You’re sure your frail body would thank you, even if it was just junk. Joel’s eyes trace over yours, following to where yours end, and then a small chuckle leaves his lips. “You wanna go grab some?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Go on then. Why don’t you go pick some out?” He nods to the empty aisle, encouraging you on. But you stand there like your feet are cemented to the shiny floor, and you have no intention of moving. 

   Fear pulses through your blood, and anxiety is trickling down your spine. Joel takes a step forward and drawls in a low but soothing voice, “S’okay. I’ll be right here watchin’. You can do it, sweetheart.”

   You look up and see warm pools of honey staring down at you and a smile that makes your knees feel weak. He’s so fucking soft with you. 

   Nodding, you take a step forward and then another, dragging your feet toward the aisle of boxes of sugary goodness. The further you get away from him, the more anxious you get. 

   What if someone takes you, gets too close to your liking, grabs your arm and drags you away? Looking back toward Joel, he gives you a small nod, telling you it’s okay. You’re okay. 

   Turning back to your task at hand, you start scanning the shelves, your appetite suddenly stimulated as you scavenge for what you’re looking for. Saliva is coating the back of your tongue, your stomach rumbling. There’s too many choices, too many kinds you want. 

   When you finally spot a box of Cocoa Pebbles, you see two more kinds you want. Lucky Charms and Cinnamon Toast Crunch sit right next to each other, calling your name for you to take them. Gritting your teeth together, you make a choice. You want all three, so you dip into your impulses and grab them all up. Hopefully Joel doesn’t mind. 

   A middle-aged man passes you in the row, and your muscles tighten around you, making you squish the boxes together in your arms. You focus on deep breaths, telling yourself he’s not going to hurt you. Not every man is out to get you, but it certainly feels like that now. Maybe one day you’ll be able to break the cycle of thinking that. 

   Quickly passing the stranger, you prance up to Joel, all three cereal boxes shoved together in your arms, just like you’re a kid in a candy store. You hear him chuckling before you lift your eyes up to him, and then he lets out a belly-aching laugh. 

   “Look at you with three boxes. You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t ya?”

   You feel your cheeks grow warm as you set the boxes down in the cart. Nervous laughter filters out of your mouth. “I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted. I can put some back if…”

   “No. I’m jus’ teasin’, sweetheart. You get as many kinds as you want. Ain’t got a limit with me.” His wide grin and crow’s feet makes a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. 

   “Thanks,” you say shyly. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had any cereal, or really any kind of sugar. So, this is different. I’m not used to any of this.”

   Understanding hits his brown eyes and his jaw clenches as something tosses through his mind. “Well, we’re jus’ gonna have to change that, ain’t we?” 

   Pursing your lips, you nod. “Call me a work in progress.”

   He gives you a soft smile and wraps a large hand around the cart. “You’re doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. Makin’ plenty of progress jus’ by steppin’ foot in this store today. Proud of you.”

   He’s proud of you.

   “I wouldn’t have even made it into the store if it wasn’t for you…”

   He takes a long look at you and just stands there for a few seconds, searching for the right words to say. “It was all you, sweetheart. You jus’ needed a little push in the right direction and someone to be there for you.”

   “Thank you for being there when I needed someone, Joel…” you whisper, your eyes a little misty with emotions running rampant through your body. 

   It looks like he wants to reach out, but he just grips the handle of the shopping cart tighter and tips his head. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whenever you need me.”

   Whenever you need me. The words get stuck on repeat in your brain as you follow him through the rest of the grocery store. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

   When you’re all checked out and the bagged groceries are sitting inside the cart, you realize Joel’s flannel is still wrapped around you. You don’t want to take it off necessarily. It smells like him, and it’s so warm and cozy and basically drenched in forest air. But, it’s not yours. You slowly start to shed the warm layer, but he stops you before you can get it past your elbows. 

   “Keep it, sweetheart.” He presses a palm out, pausing you in your tracks.

   “Don’t you want it back?” you ask with knitted brows.

   “Nah, you go ahead and keep it,” he answers. Before you can walk out the door, he turns and smiles warmly at you. “Besides, it looks better on you.” And then he continues on, like he didn’t just give you a compliment. 

   It looks better on you. 

   You hug the blue flannel back against your body, breathing in the very essence of him that seems to calm every single nerve in your body. 

   He gave you his flannel.

   Once the groceries are all packed away in the back of the truck and both you and Joel are buckled up, he turns to you before driving out of the parking lot. “So, you wanna go get ice cream?” 

   “Ice cream?”

   “Mhm. Ice cream,” he confirms.

   “Whatever for?” you giggle.

   “Don’t you like ice cream?” he inquires, flicking his brown eyes over your way.

   “Well, yes. But…”

   “I think brave girls deserve ice cream. Don’t you?”

   You study him, looking for any sign of lies in the crow’s feet that pull tightly around the edges of his chocolate brown eyes, but you find none. He isn’t messing with you or your mind; he’s being completely sincere when he uses the word brave. “You think I’m a brave girl?”

   “The bravest.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling like golden orbs under the grey skies, and it just confirms how warm he is. 

   You gawk at him, your lips parting as you just stare and stare at him. He thinks you’re brave, and he wants to take you for ice cream? Who even is this man? 

   “What?” He catches you staring and probably wonders why you’re just marveling over him. He must not realize you’re completely mesmerized by every single thing he does. 

   No one’s ever treated you so human. Like you’re important and matter. Joel sees you. He really sees you. Your layers and all. Just like transparent glass.

   “You just surprise me, that's all,” you answer hesitantly, eyes still focused on his tanned skin and wrinkles that line like maps across his face. Something you could trace easily. “You’re not exactly what I expected, I guess.”

   “And what’d you expect?” He quirks an eyebrow up as the engine hums under your seat, his eyes making their way back to your face.

   “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d be so… kind.”

   He curls his lips into a sideways smile while he taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel, eyes still focused directly on you. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

   “You don’t even have to. You just are. Just like that first night I saw you sitting there across the room. Your eyes seemed so… kind.”

   Everything seems to quiet down for a moment, only the sound of your heart, the slow motion of the tires hitting the wet pavement, the thick tension coursing through the air, and Joel’s clear brown eyes that are smothering your insides. They speak louder than tidal waves, those deep brown irises. And right now, they’re making your heart clench in your chest.

   He clears his throat and then the tension dissipates. “So, how ‘bout that ice cream?” He wraps his large palm around the steering wheel and smiles over, making you mirror one right back to him.

   “I’d love some ice cream.”

   “Attagirl. Let’s go get you sugared up, then.” As he pulls out of the shopping center and drives down the smooth road, you giggle silently and watch the trickles of raindrops drip down the side of the passenger window. 

   “Have you ever tried espresso ice cream?” you ask, shifting your weight so you can see the question roll over his brown eyes.

   “As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

   “I think you’d like it,” you chirp.

   He turns his head and looks at you, pulling his lips into a smirk. “Reckon I would. That what you recommend?”

   “Mhm,” you hum. “Since you like coffee so much, might be your new favorite flavor.”

   He huffs out a laugh. “Well, looks like that’s what I’m gonna have to get. Let’s see what other recommendations you have for me.”

   As you lean against the window, you place the back of your hand over your mouth to cover the blush that's building in your cheeks. Who knew this is where you’d be in the middle of Wednesday afternoon this time of year? In a truck, wearing Joel’s flannel, getting ice cream, being free of your captors… And all you can smell is the fresh woodsy scent of him surrounding you.

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

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[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣

Warning: Angst/mention of death/Blood/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Would you like to see Han and Felix?" Hyunjin asked softly, his voice gentle as she rested against his chest. She had just gone through an intense session of cleaning her wounds, and the exhaustion was evident on her face. Her omega side, still unsettled, wasn’t allowing her to heal as quickly as she would have liked.

"C-can I see Han? I’m not sure about Felix," she murmured, glancing up at him, her eyes a little tired and distant. Hyunjin’s hands were slowly running through her hair, his touch tender and soothing.

"Why not Felix?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he studied her face. The uncertainty in her voice had him puzzled.

"I’m not ready to see him... just know that," she said quietly, avoiding his gaze. Her voice held a firmness, but it was clear there was more to the situation that she wasn’t ready to share.

Hyunjin felt a small shift in her scent—although it still carried that faint offness, it grew even more sour, tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

"Alright, we don’t have to talk about it," he said softly, understanding that pressing her wasn’t going to help. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, the warmth of his lips offering a small comfort. He definitely knew the reason behind her reluctance—it was the pregnancy. He could piece it together now, the signs, the subtle shifts in her behavior. She was still processing it all, and he knew it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss just yet.

He kissed her forehead again, then slid his hand down to her lower back, rubbing soothing circles against her skin. His movements were slow and calming, trying to ease the tension in her body as she lay against him. He could feel her drifting, her body growing heavier with sleep.

"Rest now," he whispered softly. "I’ll be here when you wake up." And with that, he continued to gently caress her back, waiting patiently for her to fall into a peaceful slumber.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"How is she doing?"

"She's gone back to sleep, Hyung," Hyunjin replied, his voice quiet as he closed Y/N's bedroom door behind him. The soft click of the door echoed in the stillness, but it did little to ease the heavy tension hanging in the air.

"Has she asked for anyone?" Leeknow’s voice trembled slightly, his posture stiff as he glanced anxiously at Hyunjin. His eyes were still a dull gray, and his concern was written all over his face. He hadn’t even tried to calm his own alpha down, knowing it would be pointless. The stress was too much, even for him.

"No, she asked for Han," Hyunjin sighed, rubbing his temples as they walked down the corridor, hand in hand. "Her wounds are taking a long time to heal. That's my worry," he continued, his tone weary and filled with concern.

"Do we need to bring one of the Umma's from the village?" Leeknow asked, looking up at the beta with desperation in his eyes. While Hyunjin was known as the best healer in the pack, the village grandmothers had been the ones tending to their kind for generations—long before Chan had taken over. They were old now, retired from their duties, but Leeknow would do whatever it took. If it meant tracking them down, he'd do it without hesitation.

"No, it’s okay, love," Hyunjin answered, giving Leeknow a soft look. "I can handle it. I just need to go through the ancestral scrolls and find something stronger." He knew that his own abilities had limits, but he was determined to make it work.

"This is serious, Hyunjin," Leeknow’s voice softened, his expression solemn. "Werewolves don't lose pups. If you need help..." He trailed off, his eyes searching Hyunjin's face, trying to gauge the weight of the situation.

For centuries, werewolves were known to have the strongest blood. Miscarriages and abortions were unheard of—something they all took for granted. This was a new, terrifying reality for Hyunjin. He’d never faced something like this before.

"Leeknow, I said it’s okay," Hyunjin snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. "Don’t question my abilities." He growled, stepping back from his alpha, frustration and fear bubbling beneath the surface.

"Hey, watch it," Leeknow’s voice darkened, a quiet warning. No one in the pack—especially not a beta—ever stepped up to him like that. Hyunjin's lip quivered at the reprimand, and finally, he broke.

"I’m sorry, Hyung," Hyunjin whispered, his shoulders sagging. "This is just so messed up. She's broken, completely... and she's slowly rejecting our bond. If she completely rejects us... we could—"

"No," Leeknow interrupted sharply, pulling Hyunjin into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around him, trying to offer comfort. They sank down onto the bed together, Leeknow gently massaging Hyunjin’s scalp as they sat in silence. "Don't say that," he whispered, his voice cracking with fear. "We just need to find a way to get Chan in there without her... without her freaking out."

"She won’t allow it, she doesn't even want to see Felix because of the pup," Hyunjin said, his voice heavy with defeat. "Her omega is already convinced we did nothing to protect her. Don’t you feel it, babe?" He looked up at Leeknow, his eyes filled with sorrow. The burn in their marks was unmistakable—the sign that one of them was suffering deeply. In this case, it was Y/N.

"I know," Leeknow replied, his voice calm but tinged with sadness. "We’ll be okay, Hyunjin. We just need to figure out a way to keep Felix away for now." He wiped a stray tear from his cheek, trying to stay strong for both of them.

Hyunjin nodded, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the new tattoo on his arm—a symbol of the new life entering their pack. "I don’t know how she’ll handle seeing him. And he can’t seem to stop begging to see her," he said quietly. "I’m second in command, but right now, it feels like I’m failing," Leeknow sighed.

"We’re in this together," Hyunjin reassured him softly. "We just need to distract him—take him down to the streams or the village to play with the kids, or get him to do some charity work. Anything to keep him occupied."

"Yeah," Leeknow agreed, his voice low. "Right now, he's out shopping for the baby with I.N." He let out a small sigh. "At least he’s not here making things worse."

A heavy silence fell between them, thick with unspoken fears. They were still going to be dads, even though they had just lost one of their pups. The harsh reality was settling in—life had to move on, whether they were ready or not.

"Are Chan and Changbin Hyung back?" Hyunjin asked, trying to focus on something else, anything else.

"No," Leeknow replied. "They went with the hyungs to track and hunt the rogues. They told me to stay and watch over everything." So that was where Chan and Changbin had disappeared to—off with the elders, tracking rogues in the forest.

"Alright," Hyunjin said, standing up and stretching. "I’m going to go check on her again. If you find Han, tell him to come, but only if he's strong enough." Hyunjin let go of Leeknow's hand slowly, his fingers lingering for a moment.

"Okay," Leeknow said, his voice firm, though still quiet. "Be strong for me, okay? I’m just down the stairs if you need me." He gave Hyunjin a final look, his aura shifting to something darker, more protective.

"Okay, Hyung. I love you."

"I love you too," Leeknow replied, his voice soft but steady.

When Leeknow finally found Han, he was in the kitchen with Seungmin, both of them busy preparing food for their mates. The smell of freshly cooked dishes filled the room, but Leeknow wasn’t focused on that. He had something important to say.

"Hey, Hannie?" Leeknow called out, his voice soft but urgent.

Han immediately looked up, his large eyes filled with hope and concern.

"Yes, Hyung, is she okay? Does she need anything? Do you need anything?" Han stopped what he was doing, his full attention now on Leeknow, worry evident in his voice.

Leeknow paused for a moment before responding, his own heart heavy with the weight of what needed to be done.

"Babe, I think it's time for you to go try talking to her," Leeknow informed him gently but firmly.

Han's eyes widened, and he took a step back, shaking his head slightly as panic started to creep in. "Are you sure? Is it not too early? What if she panics? What if I make it worse?" His hands were shaking, his chest pounding with nerves, and he felt the pull of his omega instincts—loud and demanding.

Go. Go. Omega needs us. Mate needs us. Now.

Han's eyes flickered gold, his omega taking control, the familiar surge of instinct filling his veins.

"She needs you, Han. She needs an omega by her side," Leeknow said, his voice calm but filled with quiet conviction. "I believe in you."

Han didn’t hesitate any longer. His omega instincts were too strong, and his heart ached knowing Y/N needed him. He quickly gathered his thoughts and began to pack away the food, giving Seungmin a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving for upstairs.

The walk to her door felt like an eternity. His mind raced, unsure of what to say or do. He grabbed anything he could find—clothes from different rooms—knowing he needed to build a nest for her. He was determined to make her feel safe, to make her feel loved.

When Han finally reached the door, the room was dark, the only light coming from a dimly lit lamp on the nightstand. Y/N was in the center of the bed, Hyunjin holding her close, his hand gently stroking her hair. Han stood there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before Hyunjin looked up at him and nodded, signaling for him to come closer.

Y/N stirred as she felt a new presence in the room. Her senses were sharp, and as soon as she caught the new scent—one that was familiar and comforting—her heart skipped. She didn’t know what to expect. The fear of rejection still clung to her. She was certain that they might hate her now, that they might blame her.

When her golden eyes met Han’s, all her worries seemed to collapse. Without thinking, she bolted upright, her hands reaching out toward him. The moment their eyes met, her tears began to fall freely, her body shaking with the weight of her emotions.

"Hannie," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she reached for him. "Please... I don’t know if you’re angry at me... Please don’t hate me."

Han’s heart shattered at the sight of her, her vulnerability hitting him harder than he expected. He wasted no time. Without a second thought, he crawled into the bed beside her, throwing the clothes he had gathered into Hyunjin’s hands. He wrapped his arms around her, scenting her gently but urgently. He wanted to erase any trace of the pain and trauma still clinging to her scent, to make her feel safe and loved again.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse as she clung to him, desperately needing his presence, his comfort.

"Shhh," Han murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "There’s no reason for you to apologize. This is not your fault." He cupped her face gently, staring deep into her eyes, his own eyes filled with sorrow. "I’m so sorry this happened to you," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her forearm. All she could do was cry. She had missed him so much.

"I love you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of the words was clear.

"I love you too," Han replied, his voice firm and full of resolve. "Forever, okay? I’m never letting you out of my sight. Whoever did this to you... I hope Chan Hyung rips their head off and keeps it as a trophy."

Y/N couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, her scent slightly souring as she pulled him closer. "I’m okay now, Han. I promise," she whispered, trying to convince herself as much as him. "As long as I’m back home, that’s all that matters now."

Han’s heart twisted with guilt. She wasn’t angry at them, wasn’t holding any of this against them. She was trying so hard to stay strong, even though it was clear that she was breaking inside. He just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t angry with them for not protecting her, for not doing more. But right now, none of that mattered. He just wanted to hold her. He just wanted her to feel safe.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair, allowing himself to just feel her. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N," he whispered.

"I'm sitting right in the corner if you need me," Hyunjin said softly, his voice laced with concern as he sat quietly by the door.

Y/N sniffled, her eyes swollen from the tears she had cried. She looked up at him, her face twisted with a mixture of exhaustion and vulnerability. "Hyunjinnie, go get some real rest," she urged, her voice gentle but firm. "Eat something, take a hot shower, and nap. I promise, I’m right here with Han."

Hyunjin shook his head, his eyes soft but unwavering. "Y/N, I told you I wouldn’t leave."

She sighed, her gaze softening as she reached for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You’re not leaving," she assured him, her voice growing steadier. "I’m right here with Han. You’ve been working nonstop, looking after everyone. Please, take care of yourself; I promise nothing will happen."

Hyunjin stood still for a moment, taken aback by how calm and composed she sounded now. It gave him a flicker of hope, but the worry still gnawed at him. He felt the weight of everything, the endless worry and exhaustion, but hearing Y/N speak so firmly made him feel a bit more confident in leaving her alone for a while. Still, he hesitated.

"Okay... I’ll be back in a bit," Hyunjin finally said, his voice a bit strained. "Han, if anything happens, call me." His eyes lingered on Y/N one last time before he leaned down to kiss both of them on the forehead.

"I will, trust me, Hyung," Han reassured, his voice calm but filled with an undercurrent of concern. Hyunjin gave one last glance to the pair, the tension in his chest easing slightly. As he exited the room, he felt a small sense of relief knowing Y/N was opening up to Han. That was a step in the right direction.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, Han let out a slow breath, turning back to Y/N. His voice softened, almost a whisper, as he gazed down at her. "Baby," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "How come I can't feel you in the bond anymore?" The question had been haunting him for hours, and now it was out in the open.

Y/N’s eyes flickered, her breath hitching as she looked up at him. The bond between them had been a silent connection, one that had always been there, pulsing with warmth and reassurance. But now... it was nothing but a cold, distant feeling.

"I don't want you to feel my pain," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Felix is pregnant... That would put a strain on him, and I just can't handle the alphas right now. I don't want to deal with all of it." She closed her eyes, trying to keep herself composed, but the ache in her chest was impossible to ignore.

Han’s heart ached as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, his touch soft and soothing. "Oh, but you know that Chan and the alphas never meant to hurt you," he said quietly. "They’ve been beating themselves up over it, not forgiving themselves for what happened. They’ve been looking for you nonstop, Y/N."

"I don’t want to talk about it," she whispered, shaking her head, her body tense against him. "Haven’t I been through enough?" Her voice trembled as she nuzzled her face into his collarbone, seeking solace in his scent.

Han paused, the weight of her words sinking in. "Yes, you have," he said softly, his voice filled with guilt. "I’m sorry." He held her close, his heart heavy with the knowledge that she was still carrying the weight of everything that had happened. "But you’ll have to face Felix eventually," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "He’s been really worried about you."

Y/N stiffened at the mention of Felix, her hands instinctively moving to her stomach. The emptiness that had settled in her chest the moment they lost their pup seemed to fill her again, like an overwhelming wave of grief. "I’m just not ready," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can’t bear to see him carrying our pup."

Han’s heart clenched painfully at her words. "Our pup," he corrected softly, as though trying to remind her, to ground her in the reality that they still had a future, that they still had each other. "Don’t forget... you’re still the mother of that baby." The words felt heavy, but they needed to be said.

Y/N shuddered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she turned her face away from him. "Han, please... enough," she pleaded, her voice trembling with the weight of it all. "I can’t take it."

"Shhh," Han whispered, pulling her closer into his embrace. His heart was breaking at the sight of her distress, and guilt gnawed at him for bringing it all up. "It’s okay, get some rest." He gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know I’ve made it worse."

The guilt in his chest was suffocating, and his omega instincts were furious at him for making her cry, for causing her even more pain.

"Please... be patient with me," she murmured, her voice barely audible now as she drifted into a fitful sleep, the exhaustion from everything weighing her down.

Han stayed still, watching her with pained eyes, his hand resting gently on her back. As she slowly drifted off, he kissed her forehead softly, his heart breaking in his chest. "I’m so sorry," he whispered to her, his voice full of love and regret. "I’ll be here. Always."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Where's Han?" was the first question I.N asked when they all sat down for dinner. His eyes quickly scanned the room, but the empty seat beside him didn’t go unnoticed.

"He's upstairs with Y/n," Hyunjin answered, clearing his throat, trying to keep his tone casual.

"He's with Y/n?" Felix perked up immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. "How come? Did she ask for me?" His voice was hopeful, almost eager, but it was clear he didn’t fully understand the situation.

Hyunjin glanced over at Lee Know, seeking some help in explaining the situation. Lee Know, sensing the tension, stepped in.

"S-she… uh, right now we just don’t want to overwhelm her, so we sent Han in to check on her," Hyunjin said, his voice faltering slightly. He couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of guilt in his chest for lying, even if it was to keep things calm.

"Oh..." Felix frowned, his shoulders slumping. "Can I go in next?" he asked, his voice filled with concern, his food now completely forgotten. The worry in his tone was impossible to ignore.

"How about we finish dinner first?" Lee Know interjected smoothly, "Then we’ll see if she’s awake."

Felix nodded reluctantly, but let out a sigh of frustration. "Okay, that's fine. I just really hope she’s okay," he muttered, looking down at his untouched plate.

"How was shopping?" Hyunjin asked, eager to change the subject and distract everyone from the tension surrounding Y/n.

"It was okay," Felix replied, though he seemed distracted. "I just wish you guys could’ve come. I wonder when Chan and Changbin-hyung will be back," he pouted, poking at his food absentmindedly.

"Eat, babe, you haven’t been eating," I.N scolded softly, noticing how little Felix had touched his meal. Felix let out a tiny whimper, not expecting to be called out.

"I’m not hungry…" Felix mumbled, his gaze shifting from his food to his mates.

"Eat," Seungmin teased, his voice light but firm. "I worked hard on this."

Felix couldn’t help but smile, the teasing tone breaking through his mood. "Okay, for you, I will," he replied, taking a small bite of his food, though his mind was clearly still elsewhere.

The room went silent again as everyone fell into their own thoughts, the tension still lingering like an unspoken weight.

Suddenly, Lee Know’s posture stiffened, and his chopsticks clattered to the table as he stood up abruptly. His instincts were on high alert as he felt the bond feel heavy. His alpha was urging him to go outside.

Someone was on their territory.

"They’re home," he said, his voice sharp with urgency.

Without waiting for anyone else, he bolted for the door, his footsteps echoing through the house.

"Hyung wait up!" Hyunjin was right behind him, and the rest of the group slowly stood up, following in a mix of confusion and concern.

When Lee Know reached the driveway, his eyes went wide. He saw Chan and Changbin coming down the path, both of them covered in blood, their faces exhausted and drained. Their clothes were torn, and it was clear they had just been through something rough.

"What the hell?" Lee Know gasped, rushing to support Chan, while Hyunjin quickly stepped in to help Changbin.

"What happened?" Hyunjin asked, his voice tight with worry, his hand resting on Changbin's shoulder to steady him.

Chan gave a weary glance at his mates, blood dripping from a cut on his arm, but his lips remained pressed into a thin line as if he wasn’t sure whether to explain or keep quiet. The silence between them only deepened the worry growing in the others.

Lee Know glanced at Hyunjin, his expression grim. "We need to get them inside," he muttered, helping Chan to steady himself as they slowly made their way inside. The rest of the group followed behind, trying to make sense of the situation but knowing it would have to wait until later.

"we killed them."

well...fuck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

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[ectoimp]

Ya know what I find interesting. There are almost no "Lewis lives/is resurrected" fics. Fics where he doesnt die, just swap him dying for someone else dying.

If you go to the "lewis lives" tag on ao3 there are 11 works. All except 2 are actually precave, lewis hasnt died yet or the kind where someone else died instead.

and there are 2 resurrection fics and of those one still involves someone else dying (arthur killing himself specifically)

And yeah, Lewis' death is the inciting incident to the series, but I certainly dont think there are no stories to tell there. I think there could be very interesting character drama there. Especially when you dont have the amnesia thing to make it so no one has to deal with the aftermath

With no ghost induced amnesia, Vivi has to deal with the fact that being the leader, Arthur getting hurt was on her. Lewis getting hurt/almost getting hurt is on her. They went cave exploring with no safety gear. In street clothes (chucks for hiking in a wet cave??). They didnt even have a flashlight. And its seems that no one knew they were going into this cave (since it seems like Lewis' corpse is still there) So they broke every basic rule of caving safety https://www.fs.usda.gov/visit/know-before-you-go/cave-safety

Like even if you dont blame her, I think she would blame herself. And its another thing I dont think I saw explored much. I'd see it get mentioned but usually it would immediately get brushed aside, usually by one of the boys.

But with how unsafe there were being....Lewis could have just died from slipping. No possession required. (obviously the doylist reason is because it would be a pain to design whole new outfits for one scene that was added last minute. They would look super cute in little themed caving outfits tho.)

This started out with just me thinking about "Lewis lives" But now its more about how I kinda want more Vivi angst......

Imagine if Lewis knew Arthur was possessed. If Arthur hadnt been clear he didnt want to go in the cave. Imagine if Lewis blamed Vivi.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 1

Summary: Christmas time is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but for Y/N it has become a lonely holiday now that she is a divorced mother. This Christmas, she gets looped into a love triangle with two lovers from her past, Joel Miller and Negan Smith, where the holiday brings all of them back together.

Characters: (in chapter 1) Joel Miller, Negan Smith (mentions), the reader (OC), Rosita Espinosa, Carol Peletier, Tommy Miller (mentions), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/154453672

Warnings: Alternate universe, swearing, angst, third person reader, female reader, reader is a mother, reader is divorced, reader was a teenage mother, reader is in her 30s, Joel and Negan have both been de-aged, etc. There is a mix of both TLOU and TWD characters. Please be sure to check the overall warnings on AO3, so you know what to expect!

Notes: I'm a fool for Christmas stories, so I'm back at it again this year. This time having a story featuring both Joel and Negan. Apparently my favorite duo! I will be updating this story three times a week until Christmas!

Remember Y/N means your name or whatever name you choose.

The warmth of a crackling fire. The scent of gingerbread, peppermint or a freshly put-up Christmas tree. It was amazing how many things could really start reminding you of Christmas. It was a time where those who celebrated would start to get excited for the festivities that were to come. Radio stations were playing Christmas music. Stores would be full with people shopping for both presents and food for their holidays. Christmas was always certain to draw out many emotions from people. Whether it was the excitement of the holiday, the events that you could go to, getting together with your family or just the whole genre all together.

Sometimes baking, decorating, planning and enjoying the overall atmosphere of Christmas could be a good distraction for someone who was going through a hard time. Right now that was the primary focus for Y/N. It was toward the end of her workday. Luckily, she got to work remotely from home so that meant she could also do other things at home when she had her breaks. Right now, the smell of gingerbread and sugar cookies were filling her home and she knew the timer would be going off any moment now. She was in the middle of a video call with her boss Carol and her best friend Rosita who had gotten her this job so many years ago when she was in need of one. What was supposed to be a rundown of the work they were getting done when Y/N went on vacation had become a talk between friends instead. Each person going over what they would be doing for the holiday.

“You seem distracted,” Rosita noted with Y/N looking back over her shoulder. Forcing herself to look back at the screen, Y/N realized that she must have checked on the timer too much. Rosita wasn’t one to pick up on things like that easily, so it had to have been a lot. “What are you up to now?”

“I’m just baking some cookies before the children get home,” Y/N was honest with the two. There was no reason for her to lie. She got her work done fast. In fact, she was the best worker in the business. Not that it was a great job or something entirely too complicated. It was just a data entry job that she had gotten when she was younger so that way she could help cover the bills. It wasn’t her dream job, but Y/N had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen and had her daughter when she was eighteen. That led to her not being able to get a degree until years later and it was just an associate degree from the local community college. At the time she got the job, she was desperately in need of a job that allowed her to be home with the baby and this one just happened to work out. Thankfully, Carol understood at the time because she had children as well and this job worked for her. Y/N always told herself that she would get a different job eventually. One that was better, but now her daughter was seventeen and she also had a son that was thirteen. She just got comfortable in the job that she was in and stayed. It wasn’t something to brag about, but at least she liked the people she worked with. And she got to stay home except for going into the office a few times a month. She couldn’t really complain. Especially when she got to be home to raise the children. “Their dad picked them up from school and they were supposed to be going out to eat with him.”

“I don’t know how you do it girl,” Rosita declared with a long sigh, adjusting her Bluetooth earphones that she was using over the video. “It’s super hard with just having Coco running around the house now. Yet, here you are baking cookies, decorating the house, being the amazing PTO mom for your children.”

“It’s a little different having teenage children than it is a toddler,” Y/N reminded her friend with a hesitant laugh. “I remember the days of Elizabeth and Peter being that age and it was hard. Sleep was not a normal thing during those days.”

“And suddenly I’m very happy that Sophia and Benjamin are in college and Henry is about to graduate,” Carol spoke up with a half-smile, throwing her hands up in the air when she spoke. “Kids are cute, but if I could do it all over again, I’m not sure I would.”

“Carol!” Rosita laughed making Y/N smile when her over the top boss continued to make a very dramatic expression. “I doubt Ezekiel would be happy hearing you say that.”

“What Ezekiel doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Carol placed her hand to her chest, and, in that moment the sound of the timer for the cookies was going off. “Alright ladies. We can sign off now so you can get to the rest of your day. Enjoy your holiday vacation, Y/N.”

Signing out of work and closing up her laptop, Y/N pushed back her chair and headed into the kitchen. It had been a few years since Y/N had really taken time off for herself. In the past she would have taken vacation time a lot, but not so much lately. That’s why she had taken it all at once. She had to take it, so it just made sense to do it at Christmas time. It gave her more time to focus on the children and enjoy the holiday.

Taking her cookies out of the oven, she set them out onto a rack to cool them. Preparing the frosting, she knew that the kids often liked to help so she was getting things ready for them. Likely, she would start the decorating of the cookies and they would help her finish. While the cookies continued to cool, she made her way around the house cleaning things up. The fireplace was on which gave a nice aura to the room that matched the lights that went with the heavily decorated tree in the corner of the living room. At the bottom of the tree was a toy train that her family had been collecting multiple pieces for since she was eighteen years old. It was a tradition to put it out every year. And each year they would try to add pieces to it. For Christmas, she had always tried to go out of her way to make it magical for her children. Being such a young mom, she wanted to do her best to make the holiday feel special for her children. At first, they didn’t have much, so she had to find ways to make things special and decorating was really the easiest way to do that.

Moving over toward the front window, there was a nook that was dawned with a Christmas village with extensive buildings and figurines that she had been collecting since she was younger as well. Each year she would buy one piece to add to it and it always looked really neat setting it up every year and lighting it up in the front window. Turning that on, she knew this was a daily thing. She got into the routine of things and it was just normal for her. Stockings were hanging in front of the fireplace and it just felt cozy for anyone that may have enjoyed Christmas.

Heading back into the kitchen, she started decorating the sugar cookies first. There were various shapes of candy canes, Santa hats, sleighs, stuffed bears, snowmen, reindeer and snowflakes. Those she figured her children would be less interested in decorating. It was usually the gingerbread men and women they had the most fun with.

The sound of the front door pushing open was heard and it made her smile when her son calling out to her followed, “Mom? Where are you?”

“In the kitchen kiddo,” she responded, raising her voice just enough. It was probably obvious where she was, but her son was very dramatic and liked to make his presence known. Hearing the sound of footsteps, she gasped when she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her and hugging her firmly from behind. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her son cuddling into her and it made her smile. “Hey Peter. How was school?”

“It was the last day before vacation, so great,” Peter offered up a big smile, his long eyelashes fluttering to an open. Y/N turned on her heel, brushing her fingers through her son’s dark hair and he gave her a weak smile. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but dad got me a big peppermint chocolate shake today at the diner. It was huge! It had sprinkles too.”

“Good job at keeping a secret,” Y/N heard the sound of her daughter coming into the kitchen. Elizabeth’s dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her dark eyes connecting with her mother’s when she dropped her backpack down in the corner of the kitchen. “No one is going to trust you with a secret ever. I hope you know that.”

“I have a hard time lying,” Peter explained, moving in beside his mother to see all the cookies she had already decorated. “I’m going to be on such a sugar high tonight.”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to eat those cookies since you told on me,” a voice spoke up from the entrance of the kitchen making Y/N look back. “Ellie had my back. You on the other hand…”

“Liz. I want to be called Liz, dad,” Elizabeth corrected her father making him groan out in frustration, reaching out to pull his daughter in closer to him. A frustrated sound fell from Elizabeth with how hard her father was hugging her to his chest. “Dad! Come on!”

“You know she wants to be called Liz now, Joel,” Y/N corrected with a long sigh. It had the color flooding into Elizabeth’s face since both her parents weren’t really latching onto the whole Liz nickname. “I’m also aware of it, but I’m still having a hard time not calling her Elizabeth.”

“I reckon I’m never going to be able to remember this whole Liz thing,” Joel’s southern drawl lingered, his dark eyes narrowing when he lifted his hand to give Y/N a small wave. It had her returning the gesture watching Joel lean down to press a kiss against Elizabeth’s temple. Looking between the three of them, she let out a long sigh. The older the children got, the more they looked like their father. Joel’s genes were strong in both Elizabeth and Peter. They had his eye color, skin tone and hair color. The trio looked gorgeous on her daughter and her son looked like a mini version of Joel. Pretty close to what she remembered when she first met Joel. “You’re always going to be my Ellie. You should know that. No matter how old you get, or how uncool it is to call you that. I’ve been calling you Ellie since before you could walk.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Elizabeth pat her father on the stomach playfully. Pulling out from beneath Joel’s arm, Elizabeth moved over to look at the cookies. Almost instinctively she reached for some of the decorating icing to start helping. Following in his sister’s footsteps, Peter started to help as well.

“I always loved this day,” Joel stammered, walking across the kitchen to step in behind Y/N. Lowering his head in beside hers, Joel let his breath linger against the side of her neck. The closeness of him surprised her as he stretched his arm out to grab one of the sugar cookies that hadn’t been decorated yet. Instead of pulling away, Joel turned in to press a kiss against her cheek and it had her eyes coming to a tight close. Once the warmth of him left, her eyes opened and she saw him resting back against the counter. Tipping his head back, he dropped the cookie into his mouth and groaned at the way it tasted. “Your cookies were always top notch.”

“And you always stole a ton of them before they were done being decorated,” Y/N reminded Joel with a tiny chuckle causing him to shrug dramatically. Reaching for another cookie had her huffing out and he gave a wicked smirk.

Seeing Peter do the same made her scoff and shake her head. Wanting to be as much like his father as possible, Peter would often mimic the things that Joel would do. Which meant he plowed back two sugar cookies as well.

“How big was this shake?” Y/N wondered which had Joel shrugging and shaking his head. Obviously not wanting to give the answer.

“Gigantic,” Peter explained with a mouthful of the last cookie that he shoved into his mouth.

“You’re not helping buddy,” Joel grunted under his breath, swallowing down the last of his sugar cookie. “I need some milk.”

“You know where it is,” Y/N nodded toward the cabinet where the glasses were. With a sigh, Joel moved across the kitchen and grabbed four glasses setting them out on the counter. Heading over to the fridge, Joel pulled out the milk and started pouring a glass for everyone. “I guess it’s a good thing he is going to be with you tonight. Because you know how he gets when he has this much sugar.”

“I’m thirteen mom, I’m not six anymore,” Peter snickered, nudging his mother playfully with his hip and it had her smiling. “I can handle being on a sugar high. I’m a big boy.”

“Still my baby,” Y/N claimed with a wink, lowering down to press a kiss over the top of Peter’s head. “Did the two of you pack last night?”

“I did,” Elizabeth replied with a gaze down at her brother seeing him swallow down his last bit of cookie. “He did not.”

“Sellout,” Peter retorted under his breath, working to decorate the next cookie he grabbed from the rack. “I got…distracted. I was playing a game and before you know it, it was really late and I knew I had school…”

“Maybe you should have stopped playing the game?” Elizabeth suggested with a tip of her head, drawing Peter to grumble something under his breath.

“I really don’t understand why we can’t just have dad stay over,” Peter blurt out making Joel clear his throat. It had Y/N looking back at him and she could see that tension that filled Joel’s body while he was drinking the milk that he had poured for himself. “It’s Christmas. We should have things be the way they used to be.”

“That’s not how things are done when your parents are divorced,” Elizabeth stated with a roll of her eyes making Y/N’s heart skip a beat with her children talking about her and Joel. “We’re lucky that our parents get along. Some of my friends, their parents hate each other. Fight over them just to make the other mad. And it’s never about them, it’s always for personal reasons. It makes them miserable because the parents are more so focused on hurting the other one instead of loving them.”

“I’m just saying,” Peter kept up with his previous statement setting aside the decorated cookie and reaching for another. “I remember things being really fun when we did this. I miss that. I wish we could just go back to the way things were. Dad could move back in and we could do what we did every year.”

“Bud?” Joel spoke quietly which had Peter looking over his shoulder at his father. Joel shook his head and Peter’s tanned flesh went pale.

This was the fourth Christmas that the two of them had spent separated. It was three years since they had been divorced. Joel was her high school sweetheart. Both of them had big dreams. She wanted to travel the world and be a journalist. Live in the big city. Joel wanted to be either a football player or a professional singer. But when she got pregnant? That didn’t exactly work out for either one of them. It meant she never left her hometown. Neither did he.

Joel’s parents died tragically when he was eighteen which left him taking care of his little brother Tommy. Tommy was five years younger than Joel and because Joel didn’t want Tommy going into the system, he also adopted Tommy. So not only was he taking care of his little brother, but Joel had gotten Y/N pregnant not long after. That meant an incredible amount of stress had been thrown on him.

At first? Everything was okay between them. Joel married Y/N right after Elizabeth was born. They moved into Joel’s parents’ house and he was a great dad. He never stopped being a great dad. Joel took on his father’s business of being a contractor since he had helped his dad when he was a teenager while she stayed home taking care of both Elizabeth and Tommy. Four years after Elizabeth was born, they had Peter. Originally, it wasn’t too hard because Tommy helped out with the children and around the house, but when Tommy turned eighteen he decided that he wanted to make a difference in the world and joined the army. That alone stressed Joel out to the extreme.

By the time she was twenty-one and Joel was twenty-three they had been through a lot. More than most people their age had been. They weren’t making much money and they were doing their best just to get by. Thankfully, she got her job soon after that which helped with the bills and she got to stay home to take care of the children. It was a few years more before they moved out of Joel’s parents’ home and got one of their own. Even though she thought they had the perfect life, Joel was unhappy. And each day that became more and more clear. He was still an amazing father, but they started bickering. A few fights here and there led to nights where they would verbally fight all night long, sometimes leading their fights into the middle of the day.

After years of that, it led to them separating four years ago and eventually to their divorce three years ago. Neither of the children took it well. They both really loved their dad. And rightfully so. Joel was a good father. There was something about Joel that they were drawn to. She was with them all the time growing up and Joel was always the parent that was gone long nights and was working really hard, so he was the parent they wanted the attention of the most. And when he was home? He gave it to them. So it was safe to say they mostly blamed her for the divorce. They tried to hide it more now, but when the separation first happened neither Elizabeth nor Peter were happy with her. It made her happy that after this long, there were no more fights and even though there was an occasional comment made here or there, they seemed to be happy with her.

Joel and Y/N had shared custody of the children. Which meant they were pretty open with things. They were supposed to be with her half the month and with him half the other, but they never stopped the children from seeing them if they wanted. Joel had moved back into his parents’ old home with Tommy which was only a few blocks away so they still spent a lot of time together.

Honestly? Y/N never really got over the divorce. Her feelings for Joel were just as strong as the day she met him. Joel’s family had moved to town when she was young and she immediately had a crush on him. They were just kids then though.

Their divorce was hard on her. It wasn’t like anyone cheated. It was just the tension of it all. Joel had become cold. He wasn’t a very affectionate lover. And it was always inherently clear how unhappy he was when he was married to her. Being married became lonely. Which was vastly different from how Joel was when they were younger. Joel was very affectionate in the beginning. Very loving. Now? They got along as much as they could for the children. Which meant she had to push down a lot of her feelings. But it was worth it for the children to be happy and grow up in a stable environment.

“I know, I’m not supposed to talk about the divorce,” Peter finally spoke up after the uncomfortable silence flooded the room with the three of them still decorating the cookies while Joel stayed in the back of the kitchen. “I just really miss how things used to be. That’s all.”

“I do too,” Elizabeth agreed quietly, but Y/N didn’t know what to say so she kept her mouth shut. Of course she missed the way things used to be.

“I can help decorate,” Joel offered, setting his glass of milk down on the counter. Moving over toward the gingerbread cookies, he pulled one of them off the rack and set up his area to start decorating. “We always used to decorate cookies as ourselves every year. So why not do that again?”

“This could take a while,” Y/N suggested, but Joel look to her with his dark eyes and shrugged. “Tess won’t get mad that you are here?”

“They aren’t together anymore,” Elizabeth was quick to answer and it had a rush of color flushing into Joel’s face. When his eyes connected with Elizabeth’s she shrugged her shoulders dramatically just like Peter had done earlier. “Well, you aren’t.”

“How long has that been?” Y/N looked to Joel noticing that he got uncomfortable when they brought up his ex-girlfriend. Tess and Joel had started dating a few months after their divorce finalized, so she was surprised to hear they weren’t together. Joel bobbed his head about with Peter adjusting his spot at the counter to move in next to his father to start decorating his gingerbread cookie.

“A while,” Joel grumbled under his breath, bringing his fingers up to suck off the icing that was at the tips of them. It had his dimples showing and he could see that Y/N was staring at him. “I don’t really pay attention to time with how busy I’ve been with work.”

“Months,” Elizabeth spoke again for her father keeping her focus on the cookies that were there.

“I’m glad you know more about my dating life,” Joel rumbled reaching for one of the sugar cookies to shove another one into his mouth.

“I just pay attention,” Elizabeth pointed out realizing that she was making her father uncomfortable talking about Tess. “When the two of you were together, she was always texting me. Making plans with Peter and me. Since you two broke up? I haven’t heard from her.”

“I thought you liked Tess,” Y/N recalled what the children had told her when she talked about the woman that Joel had been with.

“We did,” Peter replied back, his voice now muffled since he copied his father again in grabbing another cookie.

“It’s just strange that she drops us the moment they break up. You work so hard to build this relationship with us because you’re dating our father and then you cut us off completely when the two of you break up?” Elizabeth legitimately seemed bothered by the fact that Tess stopped interacting with them. “It’s messed up.”

“So how about these cookies? Huh?” Joel tried to come up with a distraction, going to reach for another one, but Y/N reached out to place her hand over his wrist to stop him. Instead of listening to her urgings, Joel grabbed one of the snowman cookies and bit off the head of it. “They taste really good.”

“I wouldn’t know. I was trying to finish helping mom decorate them first,” Elizabeth smirked back at her father, giving him a shake of her head. He finished off the cookie before going back to decorating. When they finished off the sugar cookies, the girls went to decorating their gingerbread women. Joel had moved on to working on other cookies, but Peter was pretty dedicated to making his gingerbread man perfect. By the time they were done, Peter was still working on that single cookie. “What’s taking you so long Peter?”

“You’re being lazy,” Joel moved in behind Peter to pick him up in his arms, pulling him away from the counter. The two of them wrestled while their laughter filled the kitchen. Finally, Y/N grabbed herself one of the finished sugar cookies that she had made while watching the two of them. “Making the three of us do all the work.”

“I just wanted mine to be good,” Peter jumped on Joel’s back, hooking his arms around Joel’s shoulders. It had Elizabeth rolling her eyes and grabbing a cookie with her mother. “You see what I mean? We shouldn’t have to go be with just dad and uncle Tommy. We should be together. Dad can just grab his stuff. Come over and we can pretend like we’re a family again. The four of us have the most fun when we’re all together.”

“Are we going to keep the gingerbread family like we did when we were younger?” Elizabeth looked to Y/N for confirmation. Nodding, she reached for a serving platter to first put down Joel’s cookie which he decorated in a green plaid shirt, work boots and a beard with dark hair. On his cookie, he gave himself a Santa hat. Then she set Elizabeth’s down next to Joel’s. Elizabeth had decorated hers in a softball outfit which made sense since Elizabeth was on her softball team and loved it. Reaching for Peter’s cookie, she could see that he decorated what she assumed to be an ugly Christmas sweater for his cookie and then Y/N placed her cookie at the far end. It was just a generic gingerbread woman with her hair color. Maybe hers was the saddest of the whole crew since it had the least amount of personality of the four. “You know your cookie is supposed to go next to dad’s.”

Elizabeth moved in beside Y/N to move the cookies together. It had a warmth flooding Y/N’s body when she sighed. In the past they would dry out the cookies by leaving them out before displaying them. Elizabeth seemed proud of herself when Joel finally let out a long exhale.

“Your Uncle Tommy has a big night planned of movie watching, so we better get ready to go,” Joel announced moving for his milk to finish it off. Setting the glass in the sink made Y/N’s head lower as Joel pointed upstairs. “Better go get packed buddy. You too Ellie.”

“Yes dad,” Elizabeth sighed knowing that she wanted to correct her father again, but instead she just accepted that he was still going to call her the lifelong nickname that he gave her.

It was almost as if their children were sulking as they dragged their feet out of the kitchen to head upstairs to grab their belongings to go be with their father. Once they were gone, Joel stepped in beside her and folded his arms in front of his chest. “It’s like Christmas brings out the inner child in them. Instead of being our teenagers full of teenage angst, they become young again. I like it.”

“They still are young,” she reminded Joel with a playful nudge before heading back for a container. “I’ll pack you some cookies for home.”

“And they will likely be all gone by tonight,” Joel declared with a snicker, placing his hand in over the soft part of his abdomen. It had her rolling her eyes and shaking her head while she gathered the cookies. “I always loved when you did the Christmas baking. All the cookies, cupcakes, pies…”

“You’re always welcome to take what you want,” she packed one container of sugar cookies and then moved to the gingerbread cookies to pack another. “So…who broke things off between you and Tess?”

“Uh…” Joel inhaled sharply, leaning against the counter again. Curling his fingers around the countertop, he shrugged his shoulders and didn’t seem to have a good response. “It was a little bit of both, I guess.”

Neither one of them spoke after that. It was awkward talking to Joel about his girlfriend. Tess was a very blunt person. It didn’t mean that Y/N didn’t like her. She did her best to like Tess, but Tess was very domineering. Which was hard since her and Joel shared children together.

“So…” Joel started, his thick fingers brushing through his hair drawing attention to his curls at the back of his neck. “What are you going to be doing while they are with me?”

“Tomorrow morning I’m putting decorations up around town. Helping out,” she explained, knowing that she needed things to do in order to keep herself distracted. It had Joel’s eyebrows bouncing up, his hands settling at his hips while he stared out at her.

“That sounds like you,” Joel commented, biting at his bottom lip having a hard time thinking of something else to say to her.

“You’re welcome to join if you want,” she offered and Joel let out a sarcastic laugh. When they were together she would always drag him along with her to do that so they had things they did together. Toward the end? Joel complained constantly and made it clear he hated it. “I’m just saying. Tommy is coming to help.”

“Well, good for Tommy,” Joel retorted with a long sigh, folding his arms in front of his chest when she shifted back and forth on her feet. “Unfortunately, I have to turn you down. I made an appointment with the children to go get photos with Santa. I know they are older now, but they seem to get a bigger kick out of it now than they did as children. It’s less scary and more so funny. I think Ellie calls it cringe, yet they still find it super funny.”

“Oh,” her face went hot when she thought about the idea of them getting photos. That was something she started as a tradition. One she was no longer included in. “That’s nice.”

“After that, I promised to take them shopping for their gifts,” Joel looked toward the exit of the kitchen toward the stairs. “And mine.”

“Last minute shopping. Totally still you,” she couldn’t help but throw that out at him since he used a similar line earlier. It had Joel smirking, his dimples showing when he shook his head.

“I guess I should go help them,” Joel pointed toward the stairs, backstepping toward the exit of the kitchen. “Make sure little man doesn’t forget anything.”

“I’ll clean up,” she barely had time to get that out before Joel was already making his way out of the kitchen.

Maybe that was too quick of a leave. It had Joel stopping at the bottom of the stairs to steal a quick look back at Y/N. Her head was tipped down and Joel felt tension in his body. Until that moment? She had actually looked happy. But now that she was alone in the kitchen to herself, she looked sad.

Considering his next move, Joel grasped tightly onto the railing of the stairway. Part of him thought he should go help her clean up. But he was never very good at that in the first place. It was one thing they used to bicker about when they were together. Joel always left dishes in the sink and his clothes all over the place. Which meant she was picking up after him all the time. They had more fights about it than he cared to admit.

Instead of helping, he let the other part of him win out and he started heading up the stairs. It was strange how even though he had been gone from the house four years, how much everything still felt like home. Y/N still decorated the same way. Just added a few more things here and there. Lights were wrapped around the railing leading up the stairs brightening the stairway. The photos were still up the way they were when they were together. With a few school photos added to the walls. The only ones that were down were the ones of their wedding or from when they were younger taking trips together.

The first bedroom on the right was Peter’s and he could hear the extensive shuffling. Standing in the doorway, Joel outstretched his arms and rest them against the doorframe, “You need help there kid?”

“No, I got it,” Peter insisted shoving a few of his clothes into his bag messily. “Thanks though dad.”

“I’ll check on your sister,” Joel pointed back toward Elizabeth’s room and Peter waved his hand about. Going to move for Elizabeth’s room, Joel backstepped when he saw the door to the room he used to share with Y/N was open. Looking to the stairs, Joel swallowed down hard and moved quietly into the bedroom. Even that didn’t look any different. The only difference is that his things weren’t thrown all over the place. His exercise equipment was gone along with his dresser. Instead there was a small sitting area there.

On the center of the bed was a robe that Joel assumed Y/N had been wearing earlier in the day. Reaching out, he caressed his fingers over the soft material before bringing it up to his nose to smell it. The scent of her perfume lingered over it and it made Joel smile. That was something he always loved. Her perfume. It had been a while since he had been close enough to her to actually smell it.

Setting the robe back on the bed, Joel looked to her dresser to see that two of the photos she had taken down that were originally in the hallway were now sitting on top of it. Stepping in closer to the dresser, Joel bit at his cheek when he saw the first one was their wedding photo. It was the two of them together with Elizabeth dressed in her flower girl outfit. Because they were just kids themselves, they had a backyard wedding at his parents’ home, but they were happy enough at that time. They had each other and that was enough.

Placing that photo back, Joel reached for the photo of them on their last anniversary that they shared. Tommy had made them reservations that Tommy was really proud of at an expensive local restaurant. It was something that Tommy had saved up for as a thank you to them for all they did for him growing up. It was completely out of Joel’s scene. All throughout dinner he felt awkward. It was one of those places that had multiple courses already chosen for you. Since Tommy pre-paid for it, Joel forced himself through it, but he hated it. And he really let Y/N know how much he hated it. Having to dress up nice was not something that Joel enjoyed. He was uncomfortable the whole time. When they got home, Tommy had taken the photo of them. It was Joel sitting in a chair with Y/N in his lap while Joel was holding onto the gift she had gotten him. Y/N got him a really nice acoustic guitar that he had told her he wanted when they first started dating. It was something he would go to the store and play all the time.  It was something she was really proud of. In the photo she looked really happy. And at that moment? She was.

It was after Tommy left when their fighting started again. Instead of appreciating the guitar that she got him, he told her to return it since it was stupid to waste the money. Especially since in the time that they had been together he had learned how to do wood carvings and he knew how to make acoustic guitars himself. Back then? He didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. He just saw it as a waste of money. Especially since he lost out on his dreams of actually becoming a singer.

They also fought over the fact he bought her nothing other than flowers. Grand gestures were something that Y/N was big on. Even when they didn’t have money, she always tried to do things special. That anniversary, he just bought her flowers and gave her them when he got home from work. She didn’t complain, he just could see that she was disappointed. Which led to them fighting about her needing to be honest with him about things. That night they didn’t get intimate together. Not once. It ended with him sleeping on the floor in Elizabeth’s room.

The guitar put a big wedge between them because she told him if he hated the guitar he could return it to get the money back. Not wanting to look bad because it was a small town they lived in, Joel just let it sit and collect dust. Until they got separated and he took it with him. Now he played it occasionally and realized why she was upset because it was actually a really romantic gift.

It surprised him that she kept that photo considering how bad that night went. Setting the photo back where it was, Joel moved back over to the bed. Dropping back onto it had him staring up at the ceiling feeling an ache at his chest. Crawling over to the side of the bed that was his, Joel reached for her pillow and wrapped it up in his arms. Burying his face against it, he closed his eyes and realized how much more comfortable this whole set up actually felt than it did back at his place with Tommy.

After a few minutes, he forced himself to get up since he realized that it was probably creepy what he was doing. This wasn’t his house anymore. It was just a vague memory of how things used to be. That’s it.

Leaving the room, he headed over to Elizabeth’s room to see that she was sitting at her desk doing something on her laptop and he smirked. Leaning against the doorframe, he tipped his head to the side and cleared his throat causing her to jump.

“Getting in trouble?” Joel watched her shake her head when she showed him that she was writing her best friend in a chat. Taking a quick look, he sighed and moved over to her dresser to grab the softball that was there. Dropping back on her bed, he started throwing the ball up in the air catching it repeatedly.

“You know, Peter’s not wrong. Things were better when it was the four of us,” Elizabeth stressed hearing her father sigh loudly and she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re not with Tess anymore. So why not spend time with mom? She’s hot, right?”

“What?” Joel chuckled at his daughter saying that about her mother.

“Listen, I’ve seen the moms at my school. I know mom is a catch,” she suggested to Joel hearing him laugh before going back to throwing the ball. “Why don’t you want to spend time with the four of us?”

“Hey! I didn’t see your mom jumping at the idea when Peter was talking about it,” Joel fumbled the ball, letting out a groan when it rolled across the floor. Pressing up onto his shoulder, Joel scoffed out when his eyes fell upon one of the posters that she had hanging up. It was one that was new and it made him roll his eyes. “I still can’t believe you’ve had a crush on that man since you were fourteen.”

“Everyone has celebrity crushes dad,” she looked back over her shoulder at the poster that he dramatically groaned over. Giving her father her attention back, she saw him throw his head back into the pillows.

“Sure. But most girls your age have crushes on twinks from a boy band,” Joel declared hearing his daughter laugh at the description of the kind of boys that he thought she would like. “Instead, you like a professional baseball player that’s my age. Do you know how creepy that is?”

“Most women here have a crush on Negan Smith,” she stood up from her chair to head over to point at the poster that was on the back of her door. “He’s the hometown hero. Rookie of the year when he started. One of the greatest baseball players of our time.”

“Do you know how old you were when he won rookie of the year?” Joel’s eyebrow arched up in curiosity, dramatically turning his head to stare out at her. It had her cheeks flushing over with red and he let out a hesitant laugh. “I think I need to stress here that he’s my age.”

“You were young when you had me,” she pointed out, heading over to the edge of her bed to sit down with him.

“Not that young,” Joel countered finding it creepy that his daughter’s celebrity crush was Negan Smith who was probably the most popular player for their state’s professional baseball team. “What about that boyband kid that you liked when you were eight?”

Tipping his head back, Joel eyed over the magazine cutouts that she had plastered over her ceiling and he felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes fell onto one of the photos. Hopping up onto the bed had her gasping out when he snatched the photo from the collage of photos she had up there.

“The hell is this?” Joel’s dark eyes almost seemed angry when he held the magazine page out in front of her face.

“Uhm? Negan Smith?” Elizabeth flashed him an innocent smile with Joel looking over the photo. “It was a photoshoot he did in order to bring attention to the sexism in sports magazines. It was him making a statement.”

“He’s naked,” Joel sneered, looking over the photo. It had the baseball star holding a baseball glove over his groin and he had a baseball bat thrown over his shoulder. They had covered him in dirt and he had eye black under his eyes. “Why in God’s name do you have this photo over your bed? Why do you have this at all? Does your mother let you put these up here?”

“First of all, he’s not naked. Everything is covered,” she reached for the magazine pull out and he tugged it away from her. “Second, mom doesn’t know that that’s there. She actually kind of gives me my privacy. So, there is that.”

“You’re seventeen,” Joel scoffed looking over the pullout feeling like the room was spinning around him. “This is way too sexual for you. I went to school with this guy. He was one of my best friends. This is another level of creepy.”

“Dad, you’re being a little hypocritical. I know you and mom were having sex at my age. A magazine pull out is not the end of the world. It’s not even porn,” Elizabeth fought back trying to reach for it, but Joel yanked it back away from her again. “I used my babysitting money to buy that dad. It’s a few years old and it’s hard to find.”

“How much did you pay for it?” Joel scoffed seeing the confusion in her eyes. “How much?”

“Like thirty dollars,” she explained and he felt his blood boiling. “What?”

“Thirty dollars for this?” Joel’s eyebrows furrowed and he grunted out looking it over. “Can’t you just find a photo of it on the internet and print it out? Why waste the money?”

“Because it’s authentic and an original. It would probably be worth more too because he just announced that he was retiring because of his most recent injury. Do you remember when that one guy purposely hurt him when we were watching that game?” she brought back a memory of when he was still living here and they’d watch games together. “Well, he came back from that injury, but it still made his leg weak and he hurt it really bad. So bad that he has to retire. He’s only doing one more season. People are going crazy over his stuff,” she reasoned with Joel who reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Pulling out thirty dollars, he tossed it on the bed beside him and rolled up the poster causing her to gasp out. “You’re going to bend it dad!”

“Good. It doesn’t belong in my…” Joel stopped realizing he was about to say it didn’t belong in his house, but this wasn’t his house anymore. “It doesn’t belong in my seventeen-year-old daughter’s bedroom. I paid you back for it. I don’t care if it’s worth a hundred dollars. Spend your money on something better than some naughty ass photo of someone I used to be best friends with.”

“Oh come on, all of that’s bullshit dad,” she bickered with her father, throwing her hands up in the air and he dramatically shrugged his shoulders. “I know you say you two were best friends and I know you were on the same baseball team, but other than that? I think you’re pushing it with the best friend thing. If the two of you were best friends, why have I never met him? Why do I see no photos of the two of you together?”

“Because in our last year of high school we kind of…went different ways,” Joel explained, still clinging onto the magazine pullout that he had stolen from his daughter. “Him, your mother, me and Uncle Tommy were the closest of friends. We were since I moved here. Honestly? I reckon he was probably better friends with your mother. But we all considered each other best friends. We were together all the time. And back then he didn’t have a single tattoo on him.”

Joel reached up to pinch up at the bridge of his nose, “And as far as photos? We probably have loads of them upstairs in the attic. I can prove it right now. I still haven’t cleaned out that thing since we moved in here and I doubt your mother did either because she always asked me to clean things up, but I didn’t.”

“Prove it,” she frowned, folding her arms in front of her chest reminding Joel of what he looked like when he was angry.

Urging her to follow him, Joel set the magazine pullout down on the table that was in the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Elizabeth was reaching for it and he snapped his fingers at her to get her to stop, “Ellie! Don’t think about it!”

“You are so infuriating sometimes,” Elizabeth frowned realizing that she had officially lost part of her collage. Joel hopped up to pull at the hatch to get it opened and get the stairs down to go into the attic. Motioning her to go up first, Joel knew that if he turned his back on his daughter that she would likely grab what he had set aside. Color rushed into her face, her eyes rolling when she moved up the steps. Joel followed her not far behind. When they got up there, Elizabeth let out a dramatic cough and he huffed. “It’s dusty.”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel suggested taking a look around. A long time ago, Joel started to remodel the attic for Y/N, but he never finished it. Half of it was done and the other half just looked like a normal attic. Moving across the way, Joel cleaned off the bench that was at the far end where the nook he designed was. Holding his hand out, he motioned Elizabeth to take a seat. She eyed it over with disgust before slowly lowering down. “Give me a few minutes.”

“So,” Elizabeth began, her curiosity growing while Joel started going through boxes. “What was he like when he was younger?”

“Arrogant,” Joel stammered, his whole face scrunching up when he thought about Negan. “Everyone loved Negan. We were the two most popular guys in school by our senior year. He played baseball and basketball. I played baseball and football. We had a bit of a feud going on that last year. He was a smartass.”

“But you were friends?” her eyebrow arched in curiosity. Pausing, Joel looked over his shoulder at his daughter. Taking a second to think it over, Joel nodded and cleared his throat. “What did you like about him?”

“He was funny. He could really get under some of the teachers’ skin,” Joel responded, setting aside some of the boxes letting out a sigh when he dug through them. “He was really smart. He could look at a book and just memorize everything. He was a class clown so it always infuriated the teachers when they tried to embarrass him and he would come back with the answer. Negan either had people really loving him or hating him because he was so good at reading people. He could have people eating out of the palm of his hand.”

Smirking, Joel opened one of the boxes to see on top of the box was some photos of him and Elizabeth when she was a baby. Holding out the photos, he saw her smile when she reached for the photos accepting them to look them over.

“Maybe I’ll come over here and finish the attic up for your mom. Clear up some things and go through the photos,” Joel offered appreciating the smile that Elizabeth was giving when she looked at the photos of them together. “It’s been a long time since I had a clean-shaven face.”

“You look so young,” Elizabeth commented holding a photo up of Joel holding Elizabeth on his shoulders at a football game together. “You were such a jock back then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel waved his hand in the air, getting down on the ground to make it easier for him to go through the boxes. After looking through a few boxes, Joel stopped when he found photos of Y/N and him from high school. With a smirk, he grabbed a handful of the photos of them at his prom. Holding them out to Elizabeth, he allowed her to look them over while he dug through the photos. When he realized this was the box that he wanted, he headed over to the bench to sit down beside her. “That was a fun night.”

“Please don’t go into details,” Elizabeth groaned causing Joel to roll his eyes. “I know what happens on prom night.”

“I just mean we had a fun time at prom, then a few of the kids were throwing a party at their parents’ house. It was right off the water, it was awesome,” Joel explained with a long sigh, his eyes narrowing when he cleared his throat. “It was right before your grandparents passed away.”

Elizabeth gave Joel a sideways glance before continuing through the photos, smiling when she saw a photo of a young Joel kissing Y/N on the cheek with her mom laughing, “You two looked so happy together.”

“We were. We were so in love. All that mattered to me back then was her,” Joel admitted, his breathing growing uneven when he thought back to that time. “I just wanted to be with her all the time. I was afraid to let her go. I was supposed to be going off to college and she still had two more years left at school. I was so worried someone else was going to swoop in and take her. I guess the world solved that problem for me though. College was just never meant to happen.”

“You still could have gone,” she thought aloud and it had Joel taking a moment to break from looking at the photos to gaze out at her. “You could have. You had a full ride. You could have made it work. Mom eventually went to college.”

“I couldn’t. I had to take care of Uncle Tommy or else he would have been put into the system. And then your mom got pregnant with you,” Joel recalled his younger years, shifting uneasily knowing that Y/N had been pregnant at seventeen which was how old Elizabeth was now. “I couldn’t do that to Tommy. And I couldn’t do that to you and your mom.”

It looked like Elizabeth wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She just went back to looking at the photos. Seeing a photo of Negan training with him when they were on the baseball team, he handed it over to Elizabeth and she snickered.

“I know the two of you were on the team together dad. I’ve seen the team photo in the hallways of the high school,” she reminded her father hearing Joel grunt. “That doesn’t mean you were best friends. He looks so different without the facial hair.”

“Not as big of a babe,” Joel mocked the way a teenage girl would talk. It had her reaching out to hit him in the chest and he chuckled. “That was before he got that scar on his face over his eyebrow.”

“You know how he got that scar, right?” Elizabeth was eager to tell the story, but Joel hushed her.

“Everyone knows that story. He told it all the time when he first started becoming popular,” Joel pointed out feeling a bit of jealousy at how much this town loved Negan Smith. Stopping on one of the photos, he tossed it to Elizabeth and heard the surprised sound that followed. It was a photo of him, Negan and Y/N sitting on the couch that was in his parents’ basement. A young Tommy was laid out across their lap and they were all laughing. “Told you. That’s at your grandparents’ home.”

Noticing that all the photos were starting to include Negan, Joel handed piles of photos to her and could see the awe that came from her looking at the photos, “See. I’m not a liar. I’ve always been a very honest person.”

“Holy shit,” she held up a photo of Joel and Negan together. Negan had his arm wrapped around Joel’s shoulders. Negan was curling his lip up in a ridiculous pose with Joel wearing a backwards baseball cap. Elizabeth clung to the photo before reaching for the next. It was a photo of Y/N between both Joel and Negan. Both of them were kissing her cheek and it had Elizabeth laughing. “So many people would be jealous of mom with this one.”

“Yeah, I know. I was really cute,” Joel knew that Elizabeth was talking about Negan, but he was being a smart ass. Elizabeth rolled her eyes before continuing through the photos. There were a lot of photos of Y/N and Negan which had Elizabeth shocked. There was an extremely young photo of Negan and Y/N that was in that box leaving Joel to shrug when Elizabeth held it up. “I told you those two were closer. Negan was my age, but they knew each other pretty much her whole life. They were neighbors. Together all the time.”

“Why doesn’t mom talk about him?” Elizabeth stammered, stopping on a photo of her mom sitting on Negan’s lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uhm,” Joel considered what to say next before clearing his throat. “Because when he stopped talking to me, he stopped talking to her. The woman he ended up getting married to showed up at the school the last year. Really pretty girl. Negan was hooked on her. Your mother wanted him to be your godfather…”

“No shit,” she gasped, clinging to the photo of Negan with her mother. “What the hell happened? Could you imagine if Negan Smith was my godfather?”

“He just stopped interacting with the two of us all together. Your mother tried to reach out to him multiple times, but then she just stopped trying,” Joel cleared his throat, rubbing at the side of his face before sighing loudly. “I think it hurt too much, so she just wrote him off. Didn’t want to think about it since the two of them were so close.”

“How did I never know this?” Elizabeth seemed upset that this was a part of her parents’ lives that she didn’t know. “So you just were friends with Negan Smith?”

“Yeah. When your Uncle Tommy and I moved to town, there was this boy that kept picking on your Uncle Tommy. All the time. He was smaller for his age. It was during the summer and this boy would knock him off his bike. Push him down. Do what bullies do. One day, I was outside and I saw this boy hit your Uncle Tommy. Your mother and Negan were outside playing hockey. We all saw it happen. I was heading over to whoop the bully’s ass, but she beat me to it. Hit the boy with the hockey stick that she had. Then she beat his ass,” Joel explained with a laugh mimicking a few punches drawing Elizabeth to laugh. “She kicked that boy’s ass so bad that he refused to tell his parents. He didn’t want the whole school knowing that he had his ass kicked by a girl. But yeah, you’re mother had a crush on me from the first moment I met her, but I’m pretty sure that day is the day she fell in love with me. That was the day we first started hanging out.”

“She fell in love with you? Not the other way around?” she was surprised to hear that and Joel tipped his head from side to side. “How couldn’t you fall in love with her after that?”

“She kind of scared the shit out of me, but in a good way,” Joel claimed, his hand placing in over the center of his chest. “So yes. For your mother it was love at first sight. For me? It took until I was about seventeen.”

“What are you two doing up here?” a voice made them both jump and they looked to the stairs to see that Y/N was moving into the attic.

“Your daughter has like the biggest crush ever on Negan Smith,” Joel once again teased his daughter, talking in a stereotypical way that had her pushing into Joel’s chest. A loud laugh fell from his throat when he pointed toward the photos. “She didn’t believe that we were best friends back in the day. So I had to prove it.”

“Why’d you never tell me?” Elizabeth was curious when Y/N moved forward to look at the photo that Elizabeth had of her with Negan and Joel kissing her cheeks. “I’ve had the biggest crush on him forever and you never said anything.” 

“It was a long time ago,” she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders as Joel started pulling himself up from the bench that he was seated on with Elizabeth. Talking about Negan didn’t seem to appeal much to her when she waved her hand about. “I have all the cookies packed up and I made a pie the other day that I’m sending with you.”

“How I remained skinny when we were together blows my mind. I like your food way too much,” Joel reached down to pat his stomach realizing now that he was older, it was harder to stay in shape for him. “Come on Ellie. We have to get home. Uncle Tommy is probably waiting.”

Elizabeth didn’t really want to, but she accepted her father’s hand when he helped her up. They moved down the stairs and onto the second level. Joel had Elizabeth going back to her room for her stuff before reaching for the poster he snatched from Elizabeth’s room. Handing it out to Y/N had her looking down and unrolling the photo. Once she realized what it was, her eyes grew wide.

“I guess her and her mother have the same type,” Joel sneered and it had Y/N lifting her eyes up at Joel slowly. “That was on her wall. Our daughter should never have anything like that on her wall. Maybe pay a little more attention to the things that she is getting her hands on.”

“Yes sir,” Y/N almost seemed offended when she rolled the photo back up and felt a warmth flooding into her face. The look that Joel gave her almost looked angry, but she couldn’t say anything else because the two children were walking out with their bags.

Seeing them out to say her goodbyes, Y/N cleaned things up before heading back upstairs. Noticing that the stairs were still pulled out for the attic, Y/N went to close them up before thinking things over. Going up into the attic, she headed over toward the box of photos. Lowering down on the bench that Joel and Elizabeth were on earlier. Pushing through the photos, there was a sense of sadness that ate her up inside seeing some of her photos of when she was pregnant with Elizabeth. Joel was so loving and sweet back then. And he looked so happy. Stopping on a photo had her heart racing. In that pile was a photo of a much younger version of her and Negan kissing. Clearing her throat, she pushed the photo into her back pocket. That was the last thing her daughter should be seeing and she knew that.

Closing up the attic, she headed to bed and pulled out the photo she snatched along with the magazine pull out that Joel had given her. Taking a look at it, she shook her head and tossed both of them into the top drawer of her dresser. For so long Y/N had pushed away her past. It almost felt like she had forgotten her past. Right now, she was just living and working to get through every day. And that was enough.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost

[rafeskai]

Never Really Left

A Rafe Cameron Social Media AU

Chapter Two

Summary: After four years away at NYU, you’re finally back in the Outer Banks, ready to reconnect with your brother, Topper, and the familiar faces you left behind. But things are different now: you’ve changed, the OBX has changed, and Rafe Cameron is not the boy you remember. Reuniting with him stirs up old feelings and new complications, as you’re drawn into the whirlwind of his intensity.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Thornton!Reader

Series Warnings: strong language, violence, substance use/abuse, mental health, toxic relationships and manipulation, sexual content, angst.

Masterlist: Here

Rafe's POV

Y/N's POV

The night was warm, a rare comfort in the Outer Banks’ summer, but you couldn’t sleep. Restless, you’d wandered outside to escape the confines of the house, only to find yourself in a familiar place—by the Cameron family dock. The last place you wanted to be, yet somehow, your feet had carried you here as if they knew better than your heart.

And then you saw him.

Rafe, leaning against his boat with that same easy posture, his profile outlined against the quiet water. Your heart stumbled, forgetting the thousand reasons you’d told yourself to leave him in the past, in New York, along with everything else you'd outgrown. But he looked up, and the way his eyes met yours felt like time folding in on itself. In that single glance, nothing had changed—same intense gaze, same cocky, half-smile tugging at his lips, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

"Y/N," he murmured, voice low, laced with that familiar, dangerous warmth that made you want to run and stay all at once.

For a moment, words failed you. The only thing you could do was swallow and keep your voice steady. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

He chuckled softly, pushing off the boat. "I could say the same," he replied, stepping closer, and you felt yourself caught in his orbit again, helpless to resist.

It was maddening. You wanted to laugh at the cruel irony of it all. Out of all the people in the world, of all the memories you’d hoped to outgrow, it was Rafe who slipped back into your life as if he’d never left, hitting right at your weakest spot. Every hurt, every tear you’d shed trying to forget him—all of it flashed back with his single glance. And yet, here you were, heart racing as he came close enough that his familiar scent—salt and that faint cologne you knew too well—wrapped around you like a net.

"Why are you back here, Y/N?" he asked, the question weighted, his gaze soft but searching. There was something in his eyes that made your breath catch, a glimmer of the Rafe you’d once fallen for—the one who held a piece of your heart, no matter how much you tried to bury it.

"Maybe… because I forgot how hard it was to let go of this place," you whispered, finally finding your voice, though you didn’t know if you meant the OBX or him.

He tilted his head, that trademark smirk turning softer, more vulnerable. “Funny,” he murmured. “Because I was starting to think I'd lost my chance to see you again."

The words landed, striking every part of you you’d tried to protect. But he kept looking at you, holding you in his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the past didn’t feel so far away. And despite every promise you’d made to yourself, you felt it—your heart slipping, falling, betraying you all over again.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[moonlightwonu]

권순영 // Kwon Soonyoung [Hoshi] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

247 너의 기억은 내 삶이 멈출 때까지 끝나지 않아~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“The Thing About Love” by @gyuswhore

Uni au, slow burn, fluff, angst, humor || W.C: 25.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The slap you sent across Kwon Soonyoung’s face sent a reverberating sound across the dance studio. He looks up, eyes bloodshot and swimming with fury. There’s a hint of a smile on his face for some reason, which you realize may be out of disbelief. You don’t register anything else other than the rage that accelerates down your own veins. There’s a part of you that wants to do it again when he utters his next words. “That was a bad fucking idea”

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“Bluff and Nonsense” by @thepixelelf

Gn!reader || Uni au, romance, angst, fluff || W.C: 17k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?” Or Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

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“Driving Lessons for Dummies” by @shuaflix

Fem!reader || College au, strangers to lovers, fluff, humor, smut || W.C: 16.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you've finally passed your written test and gotten your permit after six failed attempts. eager to get your license while attempting to avoid overpriced driving lessons, you enlist the help of kwon soonyoung, who only requires a STIIZY pod as payment.

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“What? Like It’s Hard?” by @starsstuddedsky

Gn!reader || Uni au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, opposites attract || W.C: 24.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows.

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“Habit” by @number1mingyustan

Fem!reader || College au, friends with benefits, smut, angst || Parts: 4 || Total W.C: 14.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You're in desperate need of getting laid, whether you want to admit it or not. And it just so happens that the fuckboy from your Economics class comes knocking at your door. 

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“Let Me Try Again” by @papermatisse

Fem!reader || Angst, Fluff, Heavy plot+elements || W.C: 30k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

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“Right? Right.” by @bluehoodiewoozi

Gn!reader || Soulmate au, angst, fluff, wholesome friendships || W.C: 13.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Your soulmate mark might be broken, but at least he will always be there for you.

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“Double Trouble” by @bluehoodiewoozi

Hogwarts au, Platonic fluff, mystery, comedy || W.C: 6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Kwon Soonyoung might be too curious for his own good. He enlists the help of an equally enthusiastic and curious Ravenclaw to solve the mystery of the several odd disappearances of one Kim Mingyu.

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“Never Shall We Die” by @gyuswhore

Fem!reader || Pirate au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, smut, fluff || Parts: 3 || Total W.C: 48.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

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“Arranged Marriage” by @hoshifighting

Fem!reader || Arranged marriage au, Childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff || W.C: 10k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･In contrast to the tired old plots of arranged marriages where the couple can't stand each other, you and Soonyoung are childhood friends. It's not just like marrying a friend—no, no, actually, it is marrying a friend, no-frills and simple.

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"Lost And Found" by @kwanisms

Fem!reader || Soulmate au, fluff, slight angst || W.C: 6.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･All your life, items had been disappearing from your room only for strange items to appear. Items that didn’t belong to you. Your grandmother told you the items belonged to your soulmate and that your lost items were in his room. You didn’t believe her until you began noticing all the items that appeared in your room had the same initials on them: S.K.

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"Caller #17" by @beomcoups

Fem!reader || 90s au, fluff, angst || W.C: 8.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

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"I Will Go To You Like The First Snow" by @viastro

[Series] || Gn!reader || Hotel Del Luna x Goblin au, reincarnation, angst, slowburn, fluff, humour || Parts: 25 +prologue, +epilogue || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you’ve waited a millennium as a grim reaper to take revenge on soonyoung, then came the day where he had finally reincarnated. with revenge on your mind, you don’t realize that him receiving a second chance at life might have you questioning your own promise.

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"Echoes of Summer" by @mr-cha-n

Fem!reader || Camp counsellors au, fluff, angst, sunshine x sunshine || W.C: 18.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Get ready for the most unforgettable summer yet at Camp Logan, where lifelong memories are made, friendships are strengthened, and old crushes make new appearances.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[pixieishottogo]

"Anything" ♡ Curly x Anya

art credit: seagummies on twitter

warnings: angst, topic of miscarriage

this is a good ending au of mouthwashing! if u are a hater, then dni🥰 this post aint for u, babe

Chapter 1

Jimmy had been dead for the past few months due to the crash. The crew has been slowly rotting. They have lost all hope, and for good reason. Daisuke and Swansea are unconscious because of hunger and exhaustion. Curly and Anya are slowly losing grip. Despite all this, the beautiful glowing screen still showcased the moon and stars. Curly's hair sticks to his face due to anxious sweat. "Well, we had a good run. Didn't we." Curly smiled. Anya laid beside him and she smiled despite the tears rolling down her face. "Yeah." Curly's breath hitches "Anya... I'm-”

Curly opened his eyes with a jolt. There he was, in the hospital. His whole body was aching. A nurse walked over to his bed, "How are you feeling, sir?" His eyes widened harshly. "Where is my crew?" He yelled. "Are they okay? Is Anya alive? I never got to tell her I'm sorry!" Curly's heart beat spiked. Thinking about Anya's distressed face made him feel nauseous from guilt. He placed his head in his hands, as if grappling with reality. The nurse spoke gently to try and to calm him down, "Everyone is okay. Some are still waking up." He sighed, feeling relieved. A doctor came into the room. "How did we survive? How are we home?" Curly was more than shocked. The doctor walked up to him, holding his papers. "Another space ship found you guys. Some astronomers were on an expedition in the area. You all were very lucky they were out there." The doctor said, cracking a smile. Curly looked down at his hands. "What room is Anya in? If you don't mind asking." Curly asked quietly. The nurse responded, "Room 25. And this is 24." After doing some basic checkups, and giving him some medicine for the pain, the doctor and the nurse left. Curly laid there, alone with his thoughts.

A few hours pass by, and unable to just sit and do nothing, Curly sneaks out of his room. He finds Anya sitting down in the lobby. The moon light shining on her in her hospital gown. She looked tired as usual, and mentally drained, but she still smiled faintly when she heard his voice. "Anya!" He cried out, limping towards her. She looks up at him and smiles with tears in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and cried. She held his head gently. "Anya... I-I I'm so sorry. I should have done something. You already had told me that you felt uncomfortable around him. I felt like I was losing my mind. I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry that I made it seem like I didn't care. I care so much. I will do anything you want to gain your forgiveness. We don't have to ever talk again if that's what you wish. I'm so sorry, Anya." The words came out almost pleadingly, and rushed. He couldn’t hold back a sob. "Captain-... Curly. Our worst moments don't define us. I don't blame you for what happened, we were in the middle of space. But it will still take me a long time to heal. Thank you." Anya was always the more quiet kind. She didn't know how to respond. After several quiet minutes spoke quietly, "I lost the baby." Curly looks up at her, his eyes slightly wide. To not offend her, he asked honestly, "How do you feel?" Tears rolled down her face, as she stared at the ground. "Empty.”

In the morning, Curly and Anya met up with Daisuke and Swansea. It seemed they were recovering well. The crew all sat together in the lobby. It was surreal, everything felt so much lighter. Almost happy. "How are you guys doing? What do you plan on doing after this?" Curly asked. Daisuke's face lights up, "That was totally crazy! I'm happy we survived. I can't wait to see my mom." Swansea pops in, "Heh, It will be nice to be with my family again. No more pony express. I get to be a retired lazy old man!" Swansea chuckles. Anya and Curly look at each other smiling. It felt like a dream.

A few days went by, and the crew slowly recovered. Everyone was released from the hospital once they were fully recovered. Getting back from the hospital was refreshing. The sterile white rooms grew to be nauseating. He could finally go home. Curly pulled up to his home, the sight of his big white house with blue shutters made him smile. That company never cared. Some random astronomers were the ones who cared enough to save them. He was free from that stupid job. He hated being glorified, he soon realized. Curly felt like a monster after everything that had happened. His loving pet guinea pig was waiting for him in his bedroom. Curly’s mother would take care of her every day while Curly was gone. Whenever anyone visits, they are surprised that he has such a small creature when he's such a big guy. Almost every time someone says the classic "Wow. I thought you would have a dog of some sort, captain." He sighed and flopped on the bed but gently held Daphne. He felt so relieved to be home, after all this time. But every time he tried to close his eyes, he would see Anya's crying face

☆

sooo this is my first fan fic ever that im gonna actually commit to😭 plz be patient. also, im gonna try to write the miscarriage plot as realistic as possible. i have had multiple friends and family that have suffered from miscarriages

[rhiannonsknife]

heyyy first of all, i just needed to say that your writing is soooo fucking good like i was genuinely impressed when you said that english isn't your first language because I can't imagine how this could get any better. Also, it isn’t only about the way you write but also the way you just get each character perfectly. That's just... woah, just woah. So yeah, I hope you keep on writing for a long time for the sake of everyone's happiness lol

And lastly, you remembered us about how you also write for the rest of the yellowjackets, not that I don't enjoy the whole "let's give love to all ella purnell's characters" thing going on here buuuut i remembered one scenario has been in my mind for a while and I'd love if you wrote about it.

Shauna, after losing so much to the wilderness, carries this relentless, overwhelming anger that keeps most of the other girls at a distance. Even those who aren't outright scared of her still know better than to get too close. She obviously needs love and comfort, but god help anyone who tries to say that to her. And then r decides to take a shot, carefully inching closer without setting her off. Slowly but surely, r makes progress. First, just being allowed in Shauna's space, then a hand on her shoulder, brushing her hand, maybe even touching her hair. When Shauna finally lets her guard down, r sees just how touch-starved she really is, how deeply she needs someone to just be there, to be her person.

Shauna and r start disappearing for hours, slipping off to somewhere, maybe the airplane, where r can pepper her face with kisses, making her feel safe. And Shauna just lets herself melt in those moments, holding r close.

my mind just goes ogdofgkditwukymg w her

── ౿🪵 NO ONE COULD SAVE ME BUT YOU

— summary: shauna shipman needs a hug. that’s it. that’s the summary.

��� warnings: hurt/comfort. canon typical dark themes. implied cannibalism (duh). child loss. etc. so: angst. some fluff. did not beta-read this. + i had no clue how to start or end this fic.

— a/n: woah thank you so so much!! i genuinely appreciate that <3 i’m not planning on stopping any time soon! anyway, i hope you like how this turned out!!

out here, she’s lost everything. you all know it, though none of you dares to actually talk about it. it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that she’s beginning to lose herself too. it’s concerning all the same.

shauna still gets her chores done, so it is not like you don’t have her support in this poorly built system, this attempt to keep things under control when -really- all last restraints of control were lost the morning you’d found jackie’s body, buried in the snow, and with all that came after that. the things no one ever speaks about.

perhaps that is why none of the girls have approached her yet: as long as she does what she’s supposed to do, why would anyone try and cross her, or potentially upset her? after what she’s done to lottie, it’s no surprise. sometimes, in moments during which you find yourself staring at her hands for reasons beyond you, you can see the flash of a scar, standing out against the thin skin of her knuckles.

maybe they’re scared of her. or scared of what she’s become, out here. it doesn’t make a difference. maybe you should all be scared of what you’ve become.

either way, it’s not fair. you obviously know that she needs the same comfort some of the other girls have found in each other, whether shauna wants to admit it or not.

so you -with nothing better to do for the most part- make it your mission to be this comfort for her.

at first, shauna gives you short, cold responses when you try to make small talk, but you keep at it. there’s nowhere to go anyway, nowhere she could flee to get away from your slightly awkward attempts to just talk. it’s a first step.

gradually, you notice her replies get a little longer, her posture softens, just slightly, and she doesn’t seem so quick to brush you off. a small sign, but it means you’re beginning to earn her trust. you don’t talk, not always. sometimes, you’ll just linger nearby and watch her prepare the last remaining pieces of meat or sit in the same room as she scribbles in the journal she’s brought from home.

sitting with shauna in silence becomes its own form of closeness; she doesn’t say much, but she lets you be near her. you can’t remember, now that you think about it, when she was last hugged. when she last felt the touch of another person. your heart aches at this realization. could it have been jackie? it already feels like a whole lifetime ago, that she'd been among the group.

over time, she actually starts letting you sit close enough that your legs touch. you hope it’s her way of saying that maybe she doesn’t mind your presence as much as she lets on.

one day, after a particularly hard night, you take a chance and rest a hand on shauna’s shoulder. you’ve noticed, even from a distance, that she doesn’t sleep well. truthfully, no one out here does. but, with your makeshift mattress closest to the spot she’s preoccupied in the farthest corner of the room, you often notice the way she flinches in her sleep, or shoots up in the middle of the night, panting heavily.

when you notice it that night, you slip out of the more or less comfortable ‘warmth’ of your blankets and make your way over to her.

she tenses, but for a moment, she doesn’t pull away. her silence feels like a monumental moment, a sign that she’s slowly starting to let her walls down. you sit like this, hidden by the darkness of the cabin and with none of the others awake, for a long moment. neither of you moves, neither of you even dares to breathe, afraid it’ll pass by as fast as it has come. then, she shrugs away from your grip and mutters: “i’m fine”. she’s not, obviously. but you take it as a small victory. you’ve felt the way she relaxed under your hold, the way she didn’t immediately push you away.

as weeks pass, you notice shauna becoming less and less guarded in your presence. she’s still wary, still sharp, but you can sense the small shifts, a quiet murmur here, a shared look there, that suggest she’s warming up to having you close.

maybe that night is what’s to blame, or maybe she’s genuinely beginning to realize how much she craves the warmth of another person. your warmth.

it’s one of these days where she’s angrily scribbling down words into her journal when shauna reaches a first ‘breaking point’. she’s sitting beside you in silence, the weight of the wilderness and the day pressing down on both of you. the only noise is the angry scrape of her pencil against paper. in a rare moment of boldness, you reach out, brushing a strand of her hair back from her face.

you’re not sure why you do it. but shauna seems so far away from everything, so detached from the reality you live in, that you just want to offer her something grounding.

her first reaction is to freeze, her eyes widening with a flicker of surprise, and you nearly pull your hand away, wondering if you’ve overstepped. but instead, shauna lets out a breath and holds still, allowing you to tuck the strand behind her ear. as your fingers brush her cheek, you can feel her breath catch, her defenses lowering just a little. it’s a brief, fragile moment, but one that feels much bigger to you: an unspoken acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, she’ll allow more of this.

that��s when things begin to change: shauna starts looking for you after difficult moments, lingering by your side in ways that tell you she needs someone, even if she won’t say it; too stubborn to ever admit it out loud. she lets you take her hand quietly, her thumb rubbing yours a wordless promise that, just for a while, she’ll let you be her safe place.

it becomes routine for you and shauna to disappear to some quiet spot when the cabin feels too heavy. no one has figured you out yet, although you’re sure that they can put two and two together by now: tai has caught your eye, the last time you sneaked off together and lottie has long claimed that the wilderness has its fucked up ways of communicating with her. whether any of it is true or not, something about the glances she shoots in your direction tells you that she knows. that she might even appreciate it, though that could just be because she won’t be the outlet for shauna’s anger anymore.

after a particularly tense exchange with the others, she brushes past you, muttering, “let’s go.” you follow her immediately, of course, and the two of you wind through the forest until you reach the plane’s wreckage. inside, it’s silent and dim, a place that’s somehow managed to become a safe haven. the last reminder of civilization, somewhere far far away from you.

shauna lets herself lean back against the metal frame, shoulders dropping in relief, her usual guarded expression softening as you sit close beside her.

she doesn’t say anything, but her hand finds yours, squeezing it tightly, as if she’s grounding herself in your presence. then, in a rare show of vulnerability, she leans her head on your shoulder, her eyes closing as she lets out a shaky sigh. you wrap an arm around her, pull her closer, and let her melt into you, feeling her tension slowly give way as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

together, you stay like that for hours, just holding each other. shauna curls into your arms, letting herself fully relax in the quiet. you actually dare to cradle her head and press gentle kisses to her forehead, feeling her melt into your embrace, and trusting you in a way she hasn’t trusted anyone else in a long, long time.

“you’re…you’re way too soft for this place, you know that?” you hear her whispering. she doesn’t stop you, though.

when it’s time to return, shauna doesn’t say a word but gives you a look that says it all: gratitude, trust, and something almost like relief.

even when you’re not together, shauna’s glances toward you become longer, her eyes lingering with something that remains unspoken, as if she’s trying to understand this newfound feeling.

around the others, she is still hesitant to be openly affectionate. in the cabin, it is only late at night, when it’s just the two of you, that she lets herself fall into your arms. It’s the only time she allows herself to be unguarded, clinging to you silently as if afraid you’ll vanish too if she lets go.

that same night, you catch a quiet confession under her ragged breath. she’s facing the other way, letting you spoon her from behind. only this way, does she dare to open up about how everything seems to slip away from her. she’s scared but hides it behind anger and frustration. you’re the first person allowed to see her tears.

you can’t even begin to imagine what she’s going through. all the things she’s been robbed of: girlhood, like all of you. even if you’re ever rescued (which seems less likely with every day that passes) how are you supposed to move on? how are you supposed to live, like none of this ever happened? her best friend, who no one dares to talk about anymore, afraid it’ll bring back the things you’ve done. it’s like she was never here at all which, you think, must be even worse. motherhood, too, though she never even wanted it. no one seems to acknowledge that, out of everyone out here, she might just be the one to have lost everything to the wilderness.

in an attempt to comfort her, you trace mindless shapes against the back of her hand, slowly soothing her back to sleep. the letters of her name, a loopy S, gliding across her scarred knuckles with a tenderness so contrary to everything these hands have done. your own name, next. you hear a gentle chuckle coming from shauna. she knows what you’re doing, of course. you don’t stop.

the outline of wiskayok, as you remember from the map. she doesn’t seem to recognize this one, a little crease between her brows. “home” you tell her quietly and the crease vanishes.

it feels surreal that, somewhere out there, home is still a place. that wiskayok still exists to the people, to your families, your classmates, and everyone else back there. that it’s more than just a fading memory.

“you suck at drawing” she finally manages. it’s the first time you can hear the glimpse of amusement in her voice.

“what? you think you’re any better?” you whisper quietly, wanting it to last.

shauna shifts beside you, and takes your hand with a gentleness you didn’t think she possessed still.

now it’s your turn to lay back and feel. she starts with words. “yellowjackets” she spells out. a small smile flashes over your features as shauna studies your face attentively. then, though it’s harder to make out, she traces the word: “champions”. your heart feels heavy with everything that could’ve been.

shapes are next: a tiny heart, resembling the shape of jackie's necklace, then a simple circle.

"that's a soccer ball" she whispers expertly. for the first time, you laugh. it only lasts a short moment before you remember where you are, and that the others are trying to sleep just a couple of meters from you.

you fall asleep with her hand in your own, as both of your eyes grow too tired and you drift off together.

other nights, when she’s fast asleep and -for once- doesn’t seem haunted by nightmares, you find yourself watching over her. it’s the only time you get to see her the way she’d once been: when her features aren’t tense or pained, but relaxed. when she’s the girl you met at the very first soccer practice years ago, who hasn’t known any of the things that’ll happen to her in this lifetime. you stay up all night, only realizing how much time has passed when light starts spilling into the cabin and she stirs up.

you know shauna hates being pitied. so while you do feel for her, instead of asking if she’s okay, you just stay close, offering your warmth and presence. when shauna’s frustration bubbles over, she lets herself scream or cry in your arms, knowing you won’t turn her away. you hold her tightly all through the waves of emotions, murmuring quiet reassurances, and she clings to you, even as she struggles to accept that someone genuinely cares.

“everyone else… they don’t understand. they couldn’t. but you-“ she murmurs softly. “you’re the only one who sees me. the only one who wants to.”

shauna begins to show subtle signs of protectiveness over you, too: always looking out for you and offering the little comforts she can manage. even though her gestures are often quieter than yours, and less obvious, she's found her own way of showing she’s come to care for you, and that she’s willing to fight for you as much as you’re willing to be there for her out there!! <3

[tumblerlove]

Yes, I am alive....no, I don't even know where it is that I disappeared to, but I'm back 😌 so here's some Rafe angst that does end happy, though

"Rafe, what's wrong?" You gasp as you see your boyfriend absolutely distraught....

You hadn't heard from Rafe all day, which is werid for him. If you two can't be together that day, then he'll call you at least. But he hadn't even texted you either. That's why you're knocking at Tannyhills door right now. Wheezie had let you in, and you could tell the house was tense by the look on her face. It was just her and Rafe. You didn't hear or see Ward, Rose, or Sarah around

You knock on his door before entering. "Wheezie, go away, I don't want to talk right now," he yells behind the door. You open it anyway and peek inside and see him on the edge of his bed

You tell him softly, "It's just me, Rafe." He whips his head towards you and can see that his eyes are teary and red. And omg, there's a bruise under his eye. And maybe even his lip is cut?! His hair looks disheveled like his hands had been running through it

"Rafe, what's wrong!?" You gasp as you see your boyfriend absolutely distraught. "What...what are you doing here?" As he stands up and looks away from you

"I came to check on you...I hadn't heard from you it's not like you." You tell him as he looks away from you. "Rafe, tell me what happened," you ask him, your tone pleading a little, trying to find out what happened that has him like this

"Just fucking go. I don't want you seeing me like this, " his voice raising at you, still looking away from you. He never would talk to you like this

"Don't talk to me like that, Rafe...I'm your girlfriend. I have a right to find out what's got you so upset so I can help." Your tone is firm but still caring

"God, I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to raise my voice at you," he tells you his tone softer now. He turns around to you. "Oh Rafe," you gasp out and walk up to him and inspect the black eye forming already. He does infact have a cut on his cheek and his lip, too

"Did you get into a fight?" You look at him, knowing how he was before meeting you. "No, no, I promise," his tone serious. You can tell he didn't fight as you see his hands are clean, no cuts or blood on them

"If you won't tell me then... just let me fix you up and take care of you." Your eyes finding his that are watering again. He mumbles "Ok" as you step closer to him and hold his hand, moving him towards his bathroom

He sits on the toilet seat as you grab some things to patch him up, still curious as to what happened. You clean his cuts, making sure they don't get infected. He winces when you use a cleaning spray. "I'm sorry, baby." You lean down and kiss, his forehead

"It was my dad," he blurts out as you make eye contact with him. Trying not to move or speak, so he continues on. "He got pissed off because the job he had me working on fell through." his eyes look hurt. You knew that he had been working on it and trying so hard to make it work.

He's holding your waist as if you'll keep him grounded while telling you. "I told him that I tried everything, and the guy had pulled out last minute. He didn't believe me... said I must have fucked something up." Rafes words mumbled as he presses his face into your stomach, not being able to look at you

"When I defended myself again he pushed me and when I tried to push him away he punched me and his ring cut me too" he looks finally up at you as you both have tears in your eyes

"Oh Rafe," you look at him, pulling him to you so you can hug him properly. "I...I didn't even defend myself. I just walked away after like a coward." He sounds defeated and tired. "You did the right thing. You're the bigger person. You've grown from this behavior." You try to help him calm down and reason with him that he did good

"You know how much worse it could've been baby if you would've fought him back," you say, holding his face to look you in the eyes. "You are a stronger man for walking away. Your father is the coward."

"I fucking hate this" he looks up at you eyes watery. "I'm so tired," Rafe says, his voice and face breaking your heart

You pull him up and start moving him back to the bedroom. "Let's get you comfortable and in bed," you smile up at him, doing your best to help him. Rafe just mindlessly follows you as you pick out sweats for him to change into

"Let me help you," you step closer to him to start getting his shirt off. "You don't have to, baby," his voice soft while looking at you. "I know... but I want too" you say as you get him into sweatpants

As you get him into bed and make him comfortable, he grabs your hand. "Can you stay here tonight?" Rafe asks softly. "Of course I was just gonna change into something comfortable," you cup his face before changing

When you're changed into one of Rafes' shirts and a pair of underwear, you climb into bed with him. His eyes are puffy from crying and swollen from his black eye. It breaks your heart seeing him like this, knowing he's eating himself up over his dad's shit

"Rafe...." you ask as he's snuggled against your back, cuddling against you. "Yes, love," he says, sleepy. "You should move in with me," you blurt out. You feel his body stiffen for a second until he says, "I'll start packing in the morning." He kisses your neck as he falls asleep

Next morning, you wake up to the sounds of Rafe packing his things up with a smile on his face.

[jetii]

By Your Name

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Jedi!Reader

Words: 11,228/18,183

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, forbidden romance, unrequited feelings, love confessions, some kissing and heavy petting, smut in part 2

Summary: Ever since you were assigned to the squad, Wrecker has delighted in calling you pet names in Mando'a — an'edee, cyar'ika, mesh'la, the list goes on. Little does he know, you understand every single one of them, and it's starting to become a problem.

A/N: I wrote this months ago and got around to editing it recently and whoa, was not prepared for the sad. Sorry about that! This is mostly self-contained to part one, with part two being purely a smut add-on for my own amusement. I'll post that next week.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

You hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop face down in the dirt, your whole body aching. The ringing in your ears slowly subsides, and the sounds of battle come back in bits and pieces. The roar of blasterfire, the clatter of droids and metal feet, and crunch of tanks rolling over rubble. You groan and turn yourself over onto your back, coughing and trying to get the taste of dirt out of your mouth, just in time to see a droid bearing down on you, cannon aimed.

You try to move, but you’re completely winded. Your lightsaber was thrown from your grasp when you were sent flying, and it lay several feet away, taunting you with the idea of your own survival. You close your eyes and prepare for the worst, waiting for the searing pain of a laser bolt tearing through you

There’s the sound of metal tearing as a large hand grips the droid’s head and rips it clean off its neck, and your eyes fly open as the metal body falls to the ground in a clatter of lifeless metal, its head still in the hands of your savior.

You look up and meet Wrecker’s eyes, and he pushes his helmet up with the back of his hand to offer you a toothy grin, the droid head held aloft in the other. The relief at seeing him alive and well washes over you like a tide, and you can only manage a weak smile back, your ribs smarting from the impact of your fall.

"That was a close one!" he says, tossing the head away like a child throwing a ball for a dog. It pings off the chest of a droid advancing on the pair of you, sending the metal soldier careening backwards.

"A little too close for my liking," you wheeze, and you take his offered hand. Wrecker pulls you to your feet with ease, the motion tugging you close to his chest, and his arm wraps around you to steady you.

“You okay, cyar’ika?” he shouts over the sound of another tank exploding, a cloud of debris flying up and raining down around you in a shower of dust and smoke. You nod, the movement stiff and stilted, and you pray he doesn’t notice the flush on your cheeks at the use of that Mando'a word.

And that's the problem, isn't it? Cyar’ika, sarad, mesh’la, all the words he said to you in his native tongue, thinking you wouldn't know the difference. It made your heart race and your head spin, and the fact that you understood exactly what they meant only made it worse. It was like a secret between you two, one you weren't supposed to know.

The words made your heart do cartwheels, but the tone he said them in?

That was what was really going to kill you.

The soft way he said the words, the gentle, affectionate way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way his hand seemed to linger on your shoulder after pulling you back up from a fall, the way his smile made your knees weak... It all came together to paint a picture of how Wrecker felt. It was a picture that made your face feel warm and your throat dry, and it was one that was starting to drive you crazy.

It also drove you to distraction, so much so that you hadn't even noticed the AAT firing at you until you were flying through the air.

And now you're here, in Wrecker's arms, your heart beating fast for more than one reason. You take a moment to gather yourself before stepping back, Wrecker's arm falling reluctantly from around your shoulders, and you give him a grin that's a little stronger this time.

"I'm alright, thank you!" you shout back. "We need to stop that tank!"

Wrecker nods, and the two of you turn to face the massive tank, which was slowly making its way through the city, demolishing everything in its path. The cannons swivel back and forth, destroying a building to your right, then to the left, then forward.

You call your lightsaber back into your hand, and it flies past Wrecker's head into your awaiting palm. You ignite the blade and glance at him, and he grins and cracks his knuckles before slamming his helmet back onto his head.

"Ready, cyare?"

Your breath catches in your throat. It wasn't the word you thought he'd use, but the endearment has the same effect. He doesn't seem to realize what he's said, and you decide not to bring it up.

You can think about it later. For now, you had a droid army to stop.

"Ready," you murmur.

Wrecker holds his hand out to the side, bowing his head in a courtly gesture. "After you."

You roll your eyes and step past him, and you feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck.

"Keep up, then."

It doesn’t get any easier.

You try your best not to let it affect your performance. You focus on the missions, on keeping your men safe, but Wrecker is always there, with a compliment or a gentle touch, and the feelings grow until they threaten to burst from your chest.

He does everything in his power to make you laugh, and every time he does, your stomach feels like it's doing backflips. He calls you pet names and winks at you, and your knees get weak. He smiles at you, and the world seems to get brighter.

He does everything he can to protect you, and you find yourself falling for him, hard.

And you can't let it show.

So you ignore the feeling, try to bury it deep inside, but you can feel it growing, day by day.

You have never wanted to tell someone how you feel so much, and yet you are absolutely terrified to do it. It's almost funny, really. You’ve stared down the barrel of a blaster a hundred times, fought dozens of battles, and yet this one man is the only one who can make your heart race.

But there's a difference. With the other things, you could always fight back, try to fix the situation. But how can you fight against feelings? How can you stop yourself from falling in love with the most wonderful person you've ever met?

You can't, and you know it.

Every night, you think about telling him, but every morning, the fear stops you. In the light of day, the idea of a Jedi and a clone being together is ridiculous. It's impossible, and you can't risk your career and his life for something so foolish. So, each time, you say nothing, and the words go unsaid, lingering between the two of you, a heavy weight that seems to follow wherever you go.

You try your hardest not to think about it, but it's like a constant buzzing, an annoying insect that's always in your ear, always nipping at your thoughts, always reminding you of something you don't want to deal with. It's dangerous, and distracting, and it makes you worry that someday, someone will find out.

And that's the most terrifying thing of all.

If the Council ever discovered what was going on between you, they would have no choice but to separate the two of you. The thought of never seeing him again fills you with a deep dread, and the knowledge that it could happen at any time drives you crazy.

Every time the thought comes to the forefront of your mind, you try to push it away, and the effort has become a daily struggle. The others have noticed your preoccupation, and have done their best to cheer you up, but even their good-natured attempts have become frustrating, the reminders of what you were trying not to think about grating on your nerves.

The only person who doesn't seem to notice is Wrecker.

It's ironic, really. It's Wrecker who causes all the trouble, and it's him who's oblivious to it. He doesn't know the effect his words have on you, and if he does, he doesn't acknowledge it.  Instead, he seems to be more affectionate, more playful, more himself than ever, and the more you try to push away your feelings, the harder they come crashing back.

It's like being caught in a riptide, unable to stop yourself from being pulled farther and farther out, no matter how much you struggle. You wish he would stop, wish he would just back off and let you think, but a part of you doesn't want him to. A part of you wants this, wants him, and it's slowly consuming the rest of you.

The only thing that keeps you sane is the knowledge that you will have to return to Coruscant soon, and that when you do, you can go back to the Order, and put the distance between you that you sorely need.

You can't hide anything from the Council. The Force is your ally and enemy, and it shows you exactly how they would react if they ever found out about you and Wrecker.

Dismissal. Disapproval. Disdain.

All things you're not ready to face, and the sooner you're separated, the better. That thought, the idea that you won't have to see Wrecker every day, helps to soothe your anxiety, and, despite the guilt and sadness it brings, you look forward to the mission ending.

The sooner you can distance yourself from him, the easier it will be.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

You have no idea how wrong you are.

The tunnel network on Akiva is a mess, a winding labyrinth of tunnels and dead ends. The six of you have been trying to navigate them for hours now, and it's starting to take its toll. You've lost the trail of the tactical droid you're hunting multiple times, only to pick it up again an hour later. Your patience is wearing thin, and the squad is getting restless. You're all tired and hungry, and the dim, flickering lights of the tunnels are giving you a headache.

"How many turns have we made?" Crosshair asks, his voice echoing in the narrow tunnel. He's leading the pack with Hunter, whose trying his best to keep up with the trail, though it's growing colder by the minute.

"I...have lost count," Tech admits bitterly, squinting at the holographic map of the tunnels displayed on his datapad. "Perhaps we should have split up, that would have made the task—"

"Not happening," Wrecker cuts in, his voice firm.

"I wasn't finished," Tech snaps.

"Yeah, but you were gonna suggest splitting up," Wrecker says, "and that ain't gonna happen. We're all staying together."

"Tech, if we split up, we might lose each other," Hunter adds, his voice strained as he concentrates. "This trail is difficult enough to follow as it is. I don't need the distraction of trying to find a missing man on top of it."

Tech opens his mouth to reply, but stops when he catches your eye, and you give him a subtle shake of your head. He sighs and nods, looking back down at his datapad. "As always, the logical course of action is the least popular," he mutters.

Hunter snorts, but says nothing, and you and the rest of the group continue down the tunnel. You trail behind the group, trying to keep your frustration in check, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you, and you glance back to see Wrecker fall into step next to you, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," he says softly, and you can't help but return the expression. You realize what you're doing and try to school your features, but the damage is already done, and Wrecker's smile widens.

"Hi," you murmur.

"You holding up okay?" he asks.

You nod, the movement stiff. "I'm fine."

"You sure? Cause you look like you're ready to kill someone."

You grimace and glance ahead, where the others were slowly disappearing from view, and you lower your voice. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"Ain't that the truth," Wrecker mutters.

"This is a mess," you sigh, glancing around the cramped, dimly lit tunnel. "We're not gonna find anything at this rate."

He shrugs, and his elbow nudges yours gently. "It'll be alright, cyar'ika. We'll find him."

The affectionate word is like a bucket of cold water thrown over your head, and your heart skips a beat. You swallow hard, and nod, hoping he can't see the flush on your cheeks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Cause we're the best there is," Wrecker says. His arm brushes yours as the pair of you walk, and his fingers bump yours. He pulls his hand back quickly, but not before his fingertips brush against the back of your hand, and you can't suppress the shiver that runs through you. "And we have the best General in the galaxy."

"Stop," you groan, the tips of your ears burning. "I'm not the best. I've gotten us lost three times today, Wrecker. Three. If I was a better General, I would have found this stupid droid by now."

"Hey," he murmurs. "It's not your fault."

You keep your eyes on the ground, but his hand comes up and his fingers brush the back of yours. Your hand twitches, but you don't move, and his thumb runs gently over the back of your hand. You're too distracted by his touch to notice that the group had stopped walking, and it's only when Hunter speaks that you snap back to reality.

"Guys, we've got a problem."

You and Wrecker stop short, and you pull your hand from his quickly, ignoring the way his face falls. You glance up and see the other clones gathered around the entrance to a large cavern, their backs turned to you.

"What's wrong?"

Crosshair steps aside to allow you to join the group, and his eyebrow arches as his eyes flicker between you and Wrecker, a smirk crossing his face. You pointedly ignore him, and he shakes his head before returning his attention to the task at hand.

"Dead end," Hunter says.

"I don't understand," Tech murmurs. He steps forward to scan the walls and floor of the cavern with his datapad, and Echo peers over his shoulder. "According to the map, this tunnel should continue on, not stop at a room."

"Well, clearly it does," Crosshair snarks as he moves past you into the cavern. "Or are we supposed to climb the wall?"

"The structural integrity of these walls is poor," Tech replies. "Climbing would only serve to bring the ceiling down upon us."

"Then how are we supposed to get through?" Echo asks, and you bite your lip, the wheels turning in your mind.

Crosshair's flashlight pans over the walls and floor, illuminating the room, and it's then that you see the marks in the dirt. Footprints, dozens of them, some large, some small. Hunter crouches down and brushes the prints, and he frowns and pulls his glove off, running his fingers along the floor.

"These are fresh," he murmurs.

"So are these," Echo says. He and Crosshair are crouched by the far wall, examining a patch of disturbed dirt. You move to take a step forward when a chill runs up your spine, and you freeze, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

Something is wrong.

You feel it, the air becoming thick with danger. Your muscles tense, your hands clenching at your sides, and the others must sense it, too. They rise to their feet and turn to you, their weapons ready, and the only sound is the distant dripping of water and the soft whirring of Tech's datapad.

"What is it?" Hunter whispers, his voice barely audible, but you can't answer. Your eyes dart around the cavern, searching for the threat. There's no cover in the room, nowhere to hide, and it's making your skin crawl.

"I don't know," you whisper back.

Suddenly, the ground beneath your feet starts to sha, and the men shout in alarm as the shaking gets worse. Dust falls from the ceiling, and you scramble backwards, trying not to fall as the walls start to crumble.

"Go! Go!" Hunter shouts, and the group bolts for the tunnel. You trip on a stone, and the ground cracks and splits open, swallowing the rocks whole. Wrecker grabs you and pulls you to your feet, and the pair of you race after the others, the cavern falling apart around you.

"This isn't natural!" Tech shouts, and he ducks as a rock flies towards him, missing him by inches. "The droid must have set charges!"

"Doesn't matter! Just keep moving!" Hunter yells.

There's a loud roar, and the ceiling comes crashing down. You barely have time to throw up your hands before the weight of the cave-in hits you, and your arms tremble with the effort of holding it up. Ahead of you, the others shout, but the dust and rocks muffle the sound. Your knees buckle, and the rubble starts to push down on you, your back bowing.

No, no, no, no...

The rocks shift, and your hands slip, and the ceiling starts to come down again, and all you can think is that you're not ready, not ready, not ready—

There's a flash of black, and suddenly Wrecker is diving towards you, his arms wrapping around your waist, and the two of you are thrown to the side, out of the way of the falling rocks. He wraps himself around you, his broad shoulders protecting your head, and the pair of you hit the ground hard as the rest of the cavern collapses.

The impact knocks the wind from your lungs, and you're left gasping for breath, unable to move as the cave-in rages around you, the sounds of the others muffled by the rocks. After what feels like an eternity, the noise and movement ceases, and silence settles in, save for the soft tumble of stones.

Your eyes fly open, and you're greeted with darkness. It takes a moment for them to adjust, and you blink away the grit, a shudder running through you. Your limbs feel heavy, and it's only then that you notice the crushing weight on top of you. You can feel the hard edge of plastoid digging into your chest, something softer cradling your head, and Wrecker's heavy breathing fills your ears.

"Wrecker?" you rasp.

His body moves against yours, and his helmet buried in the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling as he pants for air.

"Yeah?"

"Are...are you okay?"

He laughs, a soft, wheezy sound, and his grip around you loosens, his arms pulling back, allowing the air to return to your lungs.

"Am I okay? I should be askin' you that!"

You laugh, the sound coming out as a half-sob, and you feel his hand cup the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. "What...what happened?"

"You almost got crushed," he replies, his voice hoarse. "Had to get you outta there."

You blink rapidly, trying to get the dust out of your eyes, and the dim light illuminates his form. He's curled around you, his body protecting yours, and his arms are still holding you tight, one wrapped around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head, his fingers gently stroking your hair.

"Oh," is all you can manage.

"Yeah," Wrecker chuckles, and his grip tightens. "'Oh' is right."

"How did you...?"

"I dunno," he mutters, and his chest rumbles with his words. "I just knew I had to get to you, no matter what."

"Well, thanks."

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. His hand is large enough to cradle your entire head, and his thumb gently strokes the skin of your neck. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the feeling of him pressed against you, the weight of him, the warmth, the smell of metal and dirt and sweat, and you can't help the way your face heats up.

Your hand pushes at his chest plate, and his grip on you loosens. "Uh, we should—"

"Right!" Wrecker exclaims as his arms unwrap from around you. "Sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay!"

"I shoulda let go sooner," he babbles, and you can hear the flush in his voice. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine," you assure him, and you sit up, wincing at the aches and pains in your body. You can hear him move beside you, his armor scraping the floor as he stands, and a moment later, a gloved hand appears in front of your face.

"Need a hand?"

"Thanks," you say, and Wrecker helps you up. The pair of you stand for a moment, listening to the silence around you. The room is dark, the only illumination coming from the narrow gaps in the stones above you, and the occasional shift sends dust falling from the ceiling.

“—al…Wrecker! Are you alright?" Hunter's voice crackles through the comms, the sound distorted by static.

"I'm okay," Wrecker replies, stepping back a little as he activates his comm. He pauses and glances down at you, and his head tilts slightly, like he's looking you over.

"What is it?" you ask, and Wrecker hesitates, his fingers brushing yours.

"You sure you're alright, cyar'ika?"

The endearment is like a slap to the face, and you blink rapidly, taken aback.

"I'm fine, thank you," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Wrecker doesn't seem convinced, and his fingers curl around yours. "You don't sound fine."

"I am."

"Really?"

"Yes, Wrecker," you snap. "I'm fine."

"Wrecker, report!" Hunter's voice demands, and Wrecker pulls his hand from yours and activates his comm again.

"We're okay," he says. "Me and the General."

"Thank the Maker," Hunter replies. "What happened?"

You let Wrecker answer while you try to calm yourself, your heart pounding against your ribs. It's just a word, you tell yourself, and yet the knowledge that he was willing to put himself in harm's way, risk being crushed by the rocks just to get to you...

You're not sure how much more of this you can take.

"Is anyone injured?" you ask, cutting off Wrecker mid-sentence.

"No," Hunter replies. "A few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."

"Good," you say. You walk toward the wall of rubble, reaching out with the Force and testing it, searching for a way out. There are gaps here and there, large enough for a person to fit through, but the amount of debris is daunting, and you know that without tools, the task would take hours.

"Well, this is a karking mess," Crosshair grumbles, speaking your thoughts aloud.

“You can say that again,” you say. “We’ll try to dig our way out, but it might take a while."

“Negative,” Tech’s voice cuts in immediately. “This tunnel system is too unstable. Any further attempts to excavate the debris could result in further cave-ins, which could cause catastrophic structural damage.”

You sigh, leaning your head against the rocks. "So we're stuck?"

"It would appear so," Tech replies, and you can practically hear him grimace.

“What are your orders, General?” Echo asks. You can tell by the sound of his voice that he knows what you’re about to say, but the question still makes your stomach twist. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but the feeling of the walls closing in is growing, and the anxiety is starting to become overwhelming.

"You're going to have to leave us," you say softly.

The words are met with a chorus of protests, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. Behind you, Wrecker has fallen silent, and his eyes are burning into the back of your skull, his presence looming, waiting.

"You'll be walking blind," Hunter argues. "Without Tech, you could get lost."

"Or crushed," Crosshair snarks.

"It's dangerous," Echo adds.

"It is," you reply. "But we can't stay here. We need to find the tactical droid, and the longer we wait, the colder the trail gets. So get moving. That's an order."

There's a moment of silence, then: "Copy that."

“May the Force be with you,” you reply, and you turn off your comm and close your eyes.

The silence seems deafening after the sound of the voices, and you stand there for a moment, collecting yourself. You can still feel Wrecker behind you, and his presence is as comforting as it is suffocating. You take a deep breath and steel yourself before turning to face him, and you offer him a small smile.

"Ready to get outta here?"

He doesn't reply, and his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin crawl. You clear your throat and glance away, and when you look back, he's still staring.

"Wrecker?"

"You really think they're gonna leave us here?"

"They don't have a choice," you say gently. "And neither do we."

He grunts, but says nothing, and he turns away to scan the rubble, the flashlight on his helmet casting eerie shadows on the walls. You watch him as he walks the perimeter of the cave, and it's not until he's made his third trip around the space that he speaks again.

"There's a gap over here," he calls, and you cross the cavern to join him.

He's right; the rocks have formed a tunnel, large enough for you to crawl through, and when you peek through the other side, the tunnel stretches on for several meters, the walls and floor clear of debris.

"Well, at least we have somewhere to start," you murmur.

"I'll go first," Wrecker offer, and he drops to his knees and crawls into the opening, his wide shoulders brushing the stone. You follow close behind, crawling over the jagged rocks, and when you reach the other side, Wrecker grabs your arm and helps you stand.

"Thanks," you murmur, and the pair of you turn and shine your lights down the tunnel. It stretches on ahead of you, twisting and turning, the path vanishing around a corner.

"When I get my hands on that droid..." Wrecker growls.

"If I don't get to it first," you mutter, and the two of you set off down the tunnel.

It's slow-going, with the two of you constantly checking for traps or pitfalls, and the longer you walk, the more nervous you become. It's too quiet, and the tension between you and Wrecker is thick, like an unspoken word lingering in the air.

You've been trying to think of something to say, but every time you open your mouth, your throat dries up, and the words die on your tongue. Every time, you convince yourself to tell him how you feel, and how you can't deal with his attention, his affection, but each time, your nerves get the better of you, and you lose the courage.

After a while, you turn and glance back at him, and his gaze is locked on you, his head tilted.

"What?" you ask, and the word is sharper than you intended, but the tension is starting to make your skin itch.

"Nothin'," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, and you sigh and look ahead again, trying not to think about his eyes on you.

"Stop looking at me like that," you grumble.

"Like what?" he asks, his voice low.

"I don't know," you say, your frustration getting the better of you. "Just...just stop."

He falls silent, and you bite the inside of your cheek, the guilt starting to eat at you. It's not his fault, you remind yourself. You're the one who has the problem. He's doing what he always does, and it's driving you insane, and he has no idea, and it's not his fault, it's yours.

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"No, no, it's okay," he replies. "I'll...I'll try not to stare."

You can hear the disappointment in his voice, and you swallow the lump in your throat. It's not his fault, it's yours.

"Thank you," is all you manage to say.

Silence settles in again, and the two of you continue on, your footsteps echoing off the walls. Wrecker keeps his promise and doesn't look at you, and it only makes the tension worse, the distance between you yawning wider.

It's hard to see anything in the dark, and the tunnel seems endless. The walls are crumbling, and the ceiling is low, and every time the stone shifts, you're afraid the tunnel will collapse on you, and that'll be the end of the Jedi and her trooper, crushed in the tunnels on Akiva. It's not the way you expected to go out, but you suppose it could be worse.

It's not a very Jedi-like thought, and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind. The exhaustion is starting to creep up on you, the long day finally catching up, and you're not sure how much longer you can stay focused.

"You okay, mesh'la?"

Wrecker's voice, soft and low, catches you by surprise, and you glance up to see him watching you, his head cocked. You're not sure what's worse, the fact that he can see right through you, or the fact that he's still calling you those names.

"Fine," you lie, turning away so he can't see your face. "Just tired." 

"We can stop if you want," he offers. "Rest for a bit."

"No," you say, forcing a laugh. "I'll be fine. We need to keep going." 

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he replies. "But tell me if you need to stop."

You nod and walk a little faster, leaving him behind. The sound of his footsteps behind you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and it takes all your self-control not to turn around.

You need the distance.

The longer the two of you are together, the closer you feel to him, and the closer you feel to him, the harder it will be to say goodbye. And if the way he looks at you, the softness in his voice when he speaks, the gentle brush of his hand against yours is anything to go by, Wrecker isn't planning on leaving your side anytime soon.

The thought makes your heart swell, but you push it down, ignoring the longing it brings. You can't get attached. You can't let him get attached. It's not fair to either of you.

Wrecker's hand finds your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm, but not painful, and his fingers gently squeeze, pulling you back a step.

"Cyar'ika, slow down," he murmurs. "Don't go runnin' off."

"Sorry," you mutter, and his thumb runs over your shoulder.

"S'okay. Just be careful."

He doesn't release you, and his grip stays on your shoulder, his thumb running gently over the fabric of your robes. You should pull away, should shrug his hand off, but his touch is comforting, and you can't help but lean into it.

"I will."

You don't move, and his fingers stroke your shoulder, the motion slow and rhythmic.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that," he says. "There's something bothering you. I can tell."

"It's nothing, Wrecker," you say, and this time, your words are firm. His grip on your shoulder tightens, not painfully, just enough to make his presence known. "Everything's fine."

"You can talk to me, y'know," he says, and the gentleness in his voice makes your throat close up. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

You stare at him, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to cry. Instead, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You can't do this right now. You can't handle his concern, his kindness, his affection.

"I said I'm fine," you say, your voice tight. "Just drop it, Wrecker." 

He stares at you for a moment, then his hand slips from your shoulder and falls to his side. 

"Okay," he says flatly. "I'm sorry."

You want to reach out and grab him, pull him back and apologize, but you can't. You can't even bring yourself to say anything, to explain yourself. You just watch him as he walks away, and the distance between you feels like a chasm. He's only a few steps away, but it might as well be miles.

You stand there, frozen, for what feels like an eternity, before finally you turn and start walking again. The silence is unbearable, but there's nothing you can do. You're trapped, with nowhere to go, and the man you care about most is walking away from you. It's a helpless, hopeless feeling, and you can't shake it. But you have to keep moving, so you do.

At some point, Hunter checks in and lets you know they're close to finding the T-1, but the knowledge does little to ease the pain in your chest. You keep walking, pushing yourself as fast as you can, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. The darkness, the silence, and the weight of your emotions seem to swallow you whole.

Wrecker doesn't seem to be faring much better. He keeps casting glances your way, and his posture is tense, his steps heavy. You know he wants to talk to you, but the words won't come. So you both suffer in silence, each step feeling like a betrayal, and the air is thick with things left unsaid.

When the two of you finally reach the end of the tunnel, the sun has started to set, casting the world outside in shades of orange and gold. The entrance opens into a field, the long grass swaying in the wind, and the sky is a vibrant shade of purple. It's a welcome relief from the stifling confines of the tunnel, and the sight of the sky is enough to make your heart ache.

I never want to be underground again, you think, and you take a deep breath, relishing the taste of the air. Beside you, Wrecker does the same, ripping off his helmet and sucking in a deep lungful of air.

"Fresh air," he groans. "I love fresh air."

"Me too," you murmur.

His head turns, and he smiles. "Glad we're outta there, cyar'ika?"

The affectionate word is enough to ruin the mood, and you glance away. "Yes. Glad."

"Good," he replies. His voice is soft, and when you look up, he's staring at you, his eyes searching your face. You want to look away, to avoid his gaze, but his eyes are like a magnet, drawing you in.

"Wrecker—"

"There you are!"

The sound of Hunter's voice startles you, and you tear your gaze away from Wrecker's to find the rest of the squad running towards you. Tech has his datapad in his hand, and his eyes are bright with triumph.

"I have good news," he says. "The tactical droid is—"

"Dead," Crosshair interrupts, and he tosses something at you. You reach up and catch the object, and the metal is still warm from Crosshair's grip. It's the head of a tactical droid, its expression fixed in a permanent nonplussed grimace, the red light behind its eyes extinguished.

"How...?"

"Hunter ripped it apart," Echo explains.

"I didn't like the way it was talking," Hunter mutters, and his shoulders shift uncomfortably.

"So, that's it, then?" Wrecker asks.

"Yep," Echo says. "Mission's done."

"Then let's go home," you sigh.

The men cheer, and the squad gathers around, jostling each other playfully. You smile at the display, and the weight on your chest starts to lift. You're free, the mission's over, and everything is going to go back to normal. It's a relief, and yet...

Your gaze wanders, and your eyes find Wrecker, and your chest aches. His expression is bright, a grin splitting his face, but his eyes are dark, and his smile doesn't reach them. Your hand tightens around the droid's head, and the guilt is almost unbearable.

It's better this way. You remind yourself. Safer. For both of us.

You can't risk the Council discovering what's been going on. If they ever found out, the repercussions would be disastrous. The thought of the men being punished for something that's your fault makes your stomach turn, and the idea of losing them, of never seeing Wrecker again...it's too much.

So you put on a smile and try not to think about the future, try not to think about what's waiting for you, the distance that will grow between you, the way you'll feel when the time comes to say goodbye.

The six of you pile into the ship, and Tech takes the controls, lifting the ship off the ground and flying into the evening sky. The takeoff is bumpy, and the ship groans under the strain, but eventually, you're in the air.

All you want to do is hide in your bunk, but there's a debrief to be done. Hunter is giving his report, and you're trying to pay attention, but all you can think about is the look on Wrecker's face.

You can't get it out of your head, and it's starting to drive you crazy. He was so happy when you got out of the tunnel, and now he looks like he's in pain, and you're the cause. You hate yourself for it, but the fear is still there, lingering, a constant reminder of the dangers that await you, and it's enough to make you stay away.

"We made it out with a few scrapes, but nothing too bad," Hunter finishes. He turns his head, looking between you and Wrecker. "What about the two of you?"

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your tongue, and the silence grows. All eyes are on you, and the longer you wait, the more concerned the men become. You look at Wrecker, hoping he'll say something, but he doesn't. He's staring at the floor, his shoulders tense.

"Uh, we're fine," you reply, and the words feel like glass. "No injuries. We're...we're good."

Wrecker scoffs and pushes himself out of his seat, stalking out of the cockpit. You watch him leave, a knot forming in your throat.

"That's odd," Tech murmurs, his eyes following Wrecker.

"Yeah," Hunter mutters. He shakes his head and sighs, then follows Wrecker, leaving you alone with the others

Crosshair raises an eyebrow and turns to look at you, his sharp eyes scanning your face. "Well?"

"What?"

"You really expect us to believe that?" he asks, his tone mocking. "You're a terrible liar, General."

You glance between him and Echo, and both of them are staring at you, their expressions unreadable. You swallow hard and force a laugh, shaking your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"If there was nothing to tell, Wrecker wouldn't be sulking," Echo points out.

"And you wouldn't be sitting here looking like you're about to throw up," Crosshair adds.

"I am not," you argue.

"Oh, please," Crosshair snorts. "It's written all over your face."

"It's pretty obvious," Echo says, his voice gentler than Crosshair's. "What's wrong?"

You shake your head and rise to your feet. "Nothing."

"We're not gonna leave this alone," Crosshair calls after you.

"We're worried about you," Echo adds.

"Fine," you say, trying not to sound as defeated as you feel. "Worry. It doesn't matter. We'll be on Coruscant soon, and then I won't be your problem anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Echo asks, his voice sharp, but you ignore him and keep walking. You can hear them arguing, their voices rising, and the words they're throwing at each other make your stomach churn. You keep your head down and keep walking, but before you can reach the bunks, you see Hunter and Wrecker. They're standing in the middle of the hallway, their backs to you, and Hunter's hand is on Wrecker's shoulder.

"—just give her some space," Hunter is saying.

"But she's—"

"She's fine," Hunter cuts in. "She just needs some time to herself. You've been a little clingy, and she needs a break."

Wrecker's shoulders stiffen, and the hurt in his voice is palpable. "Is that what she told you?"

"Well, no," Hunter says slowly. "But—"

"Then how do you know?" Wrecker demands, pulling away. "How do you know that's what she wants? How do you know she doesn't..." He trails off, his voice thick, and he turns, and his eyes land on you. The two of you stare at each other, the space between you charged with emotion, and when he speaks again, his words are quiet, and heartbreaking. "...want me?"

"She's a Jedi," Hunter says softly. "They don't...feel those kinds of things."

Wrecker stares at you, his expression open, the longing on his face so plain, so obvious, that your knees feel weak. You can't take it anymore. You turn away, ducking into the refresher and locking the door behind you

The room is silent, the air still. There's no sound but the pounding of your heart, the blood roaring in your ears. You lean against the door and slide to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees.

You know what you have to do, but the idea is terrifying, the thought of saying goodbye to Wrecker too painful to bear. But he's hurting, and it's because of you. You can't put him through that, not any longer. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can be with him, can give him the affection he deserves, not a cowardly Jedi who can't handle the consequences of her actions.

The realization hurts more than you thought it would, but there's nothing you can do. You've known all along that this would have to end someday, and that someday has come.

The only thing you can do is let him go.

The next day passes in a blur, and the tension is thick in the air. Wrecker doesn't say a word, doesn't look at you, doesn't acknowledge your presence, and you're grateful for it. You can't bring yourself to look at him, and the others are quick to pick up on the change. They cast furtive glances at each other, their concern growing, and their efforts to cheer you up only make the situation worse. You'd much rather they focus their attentions on Wrecker, so you avoid all of them as best you can. 

It's easier this way. Safer. Less painful. 

And maybe, if you keep telling yourself that, you'll start to believe it.

Once you land on Kashyyyk to refuel, the five of them disappear into the village, leaving you alone to meditate. It's the one thing that can help you clear your mind, and you welcome the chance to relax.

The ship is silent, the hum of the engine the only noise, and the quiet helps soothe the ache in your chest. You close your eyes and settle onto the floor, clearing your mind and reaching out with the Force.

When you were a youngling, you were told that the Force was your ally, and you believed it. Now, you know better. The Force doesn't take sides. It simply is. It exists in everything, every living thing, and sometimes, when you meditate, you can feel it. It's a gentle brush against your senses, like a soft caress, and you let yourself sink into the feeling, allowing it to envelop you, and for a moment, everything seems to fade away.

That's why, when you hear the sound of someone approaching, you're startled, and your eyes fly open. You frown, remembering Hunter saying he'd comm you when the others were headed back. It's more than likely Tech sneaking away from the group to tinker with the ship, and so you stand, turning towards the sound.

What you see instead, however, makes your blood run cold. 

Wrecker is standing at the top of the ramp, his form silhouetted by the light outside, his eyes burning into you. You're frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think. All you can do is stare at him, trying to make sense of the expression on his face, but all you can see is anger, and your heart sinks.

"What's going on?" he asks. His voice is low, but there's an edge to it, and his shoulders are stiff.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about the way you've been acting," he says, stepping further into the ship. "Ever since we left Akiva, you've been avoiding me. Why?"

"I haven't been avoiding you," you lie, turning away from him.

"Like kriff, you haven't!" he exclaims, and you flinch, the anger in his voice catching you off guard. "I've tried to talk to you, and you walk away! You won't even look at me!"

"That's not true," you argue. "I'm always—"

"Yeah, it is," he snaps. "You think I don't notice, but I do. You're always running away, avoiding me. Why? Just tell me why. Talk to me. Please."

"Wrecker..."

"Don't say my name like that," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Don't push me away. Please, cyar'ika, I need to know what's going on."

The endearment sends a jolt through your system, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry. You've spent the past twenty-four hours doing nothing but thinking about this, trying to steel yourself for what's to come, and yet here he is, begging for answers, and you're not ready. You can't bring yourself to say the words, can't bring yourself to push him away, but if you don't, it will only get harder.

"Please," he whispers. "What did I do? How did I hurt you?"

You can't look at him, but you can't ignore him, either. The last thing you want is for him to think any of this is his fault, and so you force yourself to turn, your eyes meeting his, and your resolve breaks.

"You didn't," you murmur. "It's not your fault, I promise."

"Then tell me what's wrong," he pleads, and his voice is soft, and the desperation in it is enough to break your heart. "Tell me what I can do to fix this."

Wrecker reaches out and takes a step towards you, his hand outstretched, but the gesture is hesitant, almost as if he's afraid to touch you. When you don't move away, he steps closer, his fingers brushing the hem of your sleeve. His gaze is intense, his eyes searching yours, and the ache in his voice is enough to make you want to scream.

"I'm not good at this," he admits. "This...talking stuff. I never know what to say, and I'm sorry. If I made you uncomfortable, or did somethin' wrong, I'm sorry."

"Wrecker..."

"I just want to make things right," he whispers, and his fingers curl around your sleeve. "Just tell me how, and I'll do it. I'll fix it."

He's so earnest, so sincere, and the guilt is crushing. You can't lie to him, not anymore. Not when he's looking at you like this.

"It's not that simple," you say, and the words feel like lead in your mouth.

"Why not?" he asks, his voice raw.

"Because," you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "Because I can't do this anymore, Wrecker. I can't..." You trail off, the words dying on your tongue. You can't bring yourself to say them, can't bring yourself to end things like this. But it's too late. He knows.

He drops his hand, and the look of pain on his face is almost enough to break your heart.

"Do what?" he asks, his voice shaking.

"This," you say, gesturing between the two of you. "Whatever this is. I can't keep pretending that I don't know what you mean when you call me those names. I can't keep acting like it's nothing, because it's not." 

Wrecker stumbles back a step, eyes wide.

"You knew?" he asks, and his voice is barely audible. "This whole time...?"

"Of course I knew," you say, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You think I could have missed it?" You try to laugh, but it comes out as a choked sob. "You're not exactly subtle, Wrecker."

"Oh," he says, and the single word holds a world of hurt. He turns away from you, his hands curling into fists at his sides, and the tension in the air is palpable. A heavy silence settles in, and when he speaks again, his voice is a hoarse whisper.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asks. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

"I couldn't," you say, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I...I liked it too much."

"What?" Wrecker turns, his head snapping around to face you, and his expression is torn between hope and horror.

"You heard me," you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. You turn away, but his hand finds your chin, gently tilting your face back to his. The heat of his palm burns into your skin, his touch so gentle, and your heart leaps into your throat.

"Then why are you doing this?" he asks, and the words are barely audible. "If you like it, why are you trying to push me away?"

You close your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. It's a good question, and one you're not sure you can answer.

"Because," you start, and then trail off. When you open your eyes, his face is inches from yours, and the pain in his eyes is overwhelming. "Because I'm not meant for this. For us." You motion between the two of you. "I have a duty. A responsibility. I can't...I can't give you what you want. What you deserve."

"But I don't want anyone else,” Wrecker says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I just want you."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you close your eyes, trying not to cry. You can feel the warmth of his body, the weight of his hand, the scent of him surrounding you. You want to pull away, to run and hide, but the way his hands cradle your face, the gentleness in his touch, makes it impossible.

"You don't mean that," you whisper, the words like poison. "You can't. I'm a Jedi. You know what that means. You know what my life is. I can't give you anything, Wrecker. I can't even be there for you. I can't..."

"Stop," he whispers. 

His hands drop, moving to your shoulders, and he turns you, pulling you closer. You let him, and his arms wrap around you, his forehead resting against yours. The touch is warm and gentle, and his eyes are soft, full of pain and love. 

He's never been anything but gentle with you, even when he didn't have to be. Even when the mission demanded he take risks, put his life on the line, he was always careful with you. Always protective. Always gentle. And now, here, when the mission is over, the danger gone, he's still treating you like something precious, something to be treasured.

It's too much.

"Don't say that," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. You can't decide for me, cyar'ika. I'm not gonna change my mind. I'm not gonna stop caring about you. So just...just stop. Okay?"

Your hands find his, curling around his wrists. His pulse is pounding under your fingertips, and his chest is rising and falling with each breath, the beat of his heart matching the rhythm of yours. It would be so easy, so tempting, to let yourself give in. To give him the answer he wants. To give him the one thing you've wanted to give him for so long.

But you can't. You can't let him sacrifice his future, his happiness, for you. It's too much. Too selfish.

"Wrecker, please," you say, squeezing his wrists. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Then don't do this," he whispers. "Don't walk away from me. Please." His voice breaks, and his fingers dig into your shoulders. "Just...just give me a chance."

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to hit him, to shove him away, but you can't. All you can do is stare up at him, his face inches from yours, his eyes begging. It would be so easy, and yet, impossibly difficult. If you do this, if you give in, it's not just your life on the line, but his. If you give him what he wants, if you allow him to care for you, it will only lead to more heartbreak. More pain.

And yet...

You can't bring yourself to pull away, can't bring yourself to deny him. And, if you're honest with yourself, you don't want to. You've wanted this for so long, wanted him, and now that the moment has finally come, the opportunity has presented itself, you can't let it go.

"I can't," you whisper, your voice shaking.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm scared," you confess. You reach out and cup his cheek, running your thumb over the scarred tissue beneath his eye, and his expression softens. "I'm not supposed to feel like this. I'm not supposed to...to love you." The words come out choked, and the tears in your eyes blur your vision. "It's wrong. It's forbidden. It's...it's..."

"It's what?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion. "It's amazing? It's the best feeling in the galaxy?"

"Yes," you whisper, and the tears spill over. "But I can't do this. I can't...I can't let you sacrifice yourself for me."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" Wrecker asks. His hand slips from your shoulder, his fingers stroking your cheek, catching a tear as it falls. "Cyar'ika, I'd sacrifice myself for you a hundred times over. You think I care about what they'd say? They can go kriff themselves. I'd fight every single member of the Council for you, if I had to. But I don't need to. 'Cause they can't tell me what to do, and neither can you."

"You say that now," you mutter. "But—"

"I'll say it every day," he cuts in. "Every single day until you believe me. I don't care about them. I don't care about the rules. I just want you."

"Wrecker, stop," you whisper, but he shakes his head, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks.

"I know you're scared. I know you're worried about what's going to happen. But we don't have to think about that. We can just be together. Just us. Nobody has to know. We can figure this out. Together. But you gotta let me in."

You stare at him, stunned by the strength and certainty in his words. He's right. You are scared. You're terrified. And not just of what the Council will do, or what the consequences might be. 

You're afraid of him, of the power he holds over you, the way you feel about him. But standing here, with his hands on your face, his eyes searching yours, it's enough to make you reconsider. Enough to make you question everything. And so you swallow your fears, and you say the words.

"I love you, Wrecker."

His lips part, and his eyes widen, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"You mean that?" he asks, his voice tight with emotion.

"Yes," you say, and the word is like a weight lifting off your shoulders. "I do. I love you."

His arms slip around your waist, and he pulls you into him, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your face. He doesn't say anything, just stares down at you, his gaze burning, and the silence stretches on, charged with anticipation. And then, finally, he speaks.

"I love you too, cyar'ika," he says, his voice trembling. "More than you know."

Your heart feels like it's going to burst. You pull him close, burying your face in his chest, and his arms wrap around you, holding you tight. It's an overwhelming feeling, this affection, this love, but you can't deny it. Not anymore. And as you stand there, his body wrapped around yours, his hands running through your hair, you know that he's right.

"Don't let go," you whisper, your voice muffled by his armor. "Please, don't ever let me go."

"I won't," he says, his voice a rumble in his chest. "I got you, an'edee. Always."

The words send a jolt of warmth through your body, and you melt into him, allowing yourself to be swept away by the feeling. It's like coming home, the warmth and comfort washing over you, and the tension melts away, leaving only relief in its wake. 

You're not sure how long you stay there, wrapped up in each other, but when he finally pulls away, you're stunned by the look in his eyes. No one has ever looked at you like that. No one has ever seen you like he does.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"Yes," you say, smiling up at him. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he says. "You don't gotta thank me. Just keep lookin' at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you love me," he murmurs.

"Oh," you reply, blushing. "Well, then, I suppose I should do my best. It wouldn't do for me to fail in that regard."

He chuckles, his hands sliding up your sides. "No, it wouldn't."

You shiver at his touch, the heat of his hands sinking into your skin. His palms are rough and calloused, and his fingers are gentle, tracing the curve of your waist. Your eyes meet, and his smile is so wide, so warm, that you can't help but return it.

"So," he says, his hands drifting lower. "Where does this leave us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah. You know, our relationship," he says. "Are we...together? Or do I still gotta keep pretendin' that you're just a friend?"

You sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "Together, Wrecker. We're together."

"Good," he grins, his eyes bright. "'Cause I wasn't sure how much longer I could take it. Having you around, knowing how I felt, not being able to do anything about it."

"That's why I was avoiding you," you admit. "I knew if I had to spend much more time with you, I was going to break. I was already having trouble controlling my feelings. If we'd had another mission, I don't think I would have made it. I was so close to telling you how I felt."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Kriff, cyar'ika," he groans, his grip on your waist tightening. "I wish you would've said something sooner. Woulda made things a lot easier."

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"Don't apologize," he says, his voice husky. "You're worth the wait."

Your breath catches in your throat, and his eyes flick to yours, and his grin turns mischievous.

"What is it, mesh'la?" he asks, his fingers digging into your hips. "Tell me."

"I, um..." You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way his voice makes your insides turn to mush. "It's just that...when you call me those names, it, uh, does things to me."

"Good things?" he asks, leaning in.

"Yes."

"You want me to keep saying them, then?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can do that," he murmurs. His breath is warm on your skin, his voice low and teasing. "And I can do a lot more, too. If you want me to."

You stare up at him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, trying not to let your desire show on your face. You've never done anything like this, never even considered doing something like this. And yet, the idea of him touching you, kissing you, fills you with anticipation.

"I'd like that," you manage, your voice hoarse.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He nods, and he leans down, his lips ghosting over yours. His eyes search your face, and he waits, and when you nod, he presses his lips to yours.

It's a slow, soft kiss, the barest brush of skin on skin. But the contact sends a thrill through your body, and you can't help but press closer, wanting more. Your hands move to the back of his neck, pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes, and he obliges, pulling you in.

His lips are warm, his tongue slick and hot as it traces the seam of your mouth. You open for him, letting him deepen the kiss, and his palm slides up your back, cradling your head. His thumb strokes your cheek, and the gentleness of the gesture sends a rush of warmth through your veins.

When the two of you finally break apart, your lungs are aching, and his breath is ragged. He leans his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of your neck.

"Kriff, cyar'ika," he whispers, and the name sends a thrill through you. You can hear the longing, the need, in his voice, and it's enough to make your knees weak. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

"Tell me," you say, your voice shaking.

"Too long," he murmurs. "Far too long."

You lean back, looking up at him. The adoration in his eyes takes your breath away, and you pull him down, kissing him again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more intense, and you can't hold back a moan as his tongue slips past your lips.

The noise seems to ignite something in him, because the next thing you know, his arms are around you, lifting you up with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in, and his hands roam over your back, sliding down to cup your ass. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, and the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, makes you gasp.

Wrecker sets you down on the edge of your bunk, and the height difference is suddenly very apparent. You're not used to being on eye level with him, but now, with your legs spread, his body between them, it's impossible not to notice. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail, and the hunger in his eyes sends a jolt of excitement through your body.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. He sounds awed, like he can't believe his luck, and the compliment makes your heart flutter. "So kriffing beautiful, cyar'ika." 

You lean into his touch, and his fingers brush against your lips, the callouses of his hands rough against your skin. You kiss his fingertips, and the heat in his gaze makes you blush.

"Not as beautiful as you," you murmur. He shakes his head with a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"No one's as beautiful as you," Wrecker says, his hand finding yours. His fingers lace with yours, and he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles. His touch is gentle, and the tenderness of the gesture makes your heart clench. "I could look at you forever. Never get tired of it."

The heat on your cheeks is unbearable, and you're not sure how to respond. Words can't capture the emotions coursing through you, and so you lean in, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss. He groans against your mouth, his hand finding the small of your back and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your legs around him, the need to be closer, to feel his body pressed against yours, overwhelming. He seems to understand, his fingers tangling in your hair, his teeth nipping at your lip.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you, cyar'ika," he promises, his voice rough with emotion. "Promise."

"You already have," you whisper. "Just having you here is more than I deserve."

"Don't talk like that," he mutters. His hand slides up, cupping the back of your head, and he kisses the corner of your mouth. He tilts your face up to meet his, and the intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I'm not gonna give that up. You're mine, and I'm not lettin' go."

The words are a jolt to your system, the possessiveness of his tone making you tremble. He's always been protective of you, but this is different. This is more than just a desire to keep you safe. This is something else entirely. You can't find the words to respond, and so you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and praying the tears in your eyes don't spill over.

"Wrecker," you whisper. "I..."

"I love you," he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. "So much."

The words are a balm on your aching heart, and the tears finally fall. Wrecker leans in and kisses them away, his lips soft and gentle against your cheeks. The tenderness, the closeness, it's too much to bear, and the emotions welling up inside you are overwhelming. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, and he holds you tight, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I got you," he whispers. "It's okay. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I don't know why I'm crying."

"I do," he replies. He cups your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes are soft, and his lips curl into a gentle smile. "You've been through a lot, and you're tired. You're allowed to cry."

You nod, wiping the tears from your face. He's right. The past few days have been exhausting, emotionally and physically. Between the mission, the tension between the two of you, the anxiety and uncertainty, it's a miracle you're not falling apart.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Stop thinking so hard. It's okay."

"I'm not supposed to let my emotions get the best of me," you murmur.

"That's some banthashit, an'edee," he says, and his voice is teasing, but there's a hint of steel in it. "You're human. You're allowed to have emotions."

"I suppose," you reply, unable to keep the smile off your face.

"Good," he says, and his thumb strokes your cheek. "We'll make this work. We'll find a way."

"Wrecker," you sigh.

"Shh," he cuts in. "None of that. We're together, right?"

"Right."

"Then trust me. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he promises. "I'll keep you safe."

"I know," you whisper, closing your eyes.

"We'll figure it out," Wrecker says. "It might be hard, but we'll find a way. We always do."

He leans in and kisses you again, his lips soft and warm. You kiss him back, allowing yourself to give in, to let go of the fear and worry, to let yourself be swept away by the feeling. He's right. It will be difficult, but it's worth it.

This is where you belong, in his arms, and no matter what the future holds, no matter what the Order says, no matter the consequences, you know you'll always have him. And that's more than you could have ever hoped for.

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[mer-acle]

i hold all the power (evil laugh, evil laugh)

Give me...

The big athena hcs

I desire knowledge and inspiration (evil laugh, evil laugh)

Haha

You kinda put me on the spot there. Not bc I don't have big headcanons but bc I'm like how do I phrase this without being like "here's the plot of that fic I wrote" yk? And now I'm unsure what constitutes a big headcanon... so I'm just gonna give you some more random ones and maybe you can help me out with what you were thinking of? (O.O)

For Epic specifically: Her owl form is a dark barn owl, bc they're really pretty and rare and have ginger feathers that match her hair

She dislikes Poseidon so much because he's so much like her father but her perception of him isn't softened by the love she has for Zeus.

Prometheus really saved her after Pallas's death. He kinda filled the void that losing Triton as a paternal figure had left more so than that of Pallas herself, but he took her along for his little creation projects (like the humans whoops) and they really match each other's freak. Yk. Until Zeus takes Prometheus away and definitely forbids Athena from visiting. I will literally murder him one of these days.

Speaking of Zeus taking people away, Athena was STRUGGLING after Pallas. Unsurprisingly, but still. Nobody but Hephaestus knows her from when she was still pretty openly mourning, they're all too young, and he never really asked why, but my girl was so depressed and lonely. She spend IRL HOURS in Quick Thought rewatching that battle and trying to figure out the moment where she went wrong. She knows Zeus intervened, but it doesn't matter to her, it's her spear, it's her kill. He was all like "for a nymph?" when she asked to take Pallas's name. "well, if you think that is a title worthy of your status..." It was her most open rebellion against his wishes for a while.

Her favorite domain is wisdom, but it's followed by crafting, not war. Don't get me wrong, she enjoys a good fight, but if she had to choose and wasn't worried about Zeus's opinion, she would choose crafting over war any day. The reason in my hc is how the domains are assigned, she was basically born with Wisdom, her powers are all about thought, and Zeus later assigned her with warfare which her powers work well with, but weren't technically meant for it. Meanwhile crafting is her "Passion domain" meaning her power in it literally stems from her intense enjoyment for creating. Imagine "What else can I do" from Encanto, but it's her discovering making clothes for the first time. The angst factor of this obviously being "My life has one mission, create the greatest warrior" Why is that her one mission? Is it the crushing weight of who she has to be?

My favorite bigger concept has to be her relationship with truth. In other words, Athena lies and manipulates her way through life, she is smarter than her father but knows he holds the power, so her council is whatever works in the moment, if she knows it's hopeless, she'll tell him what he wants to hear. Life has become a game for her, a game where she sells her soul for approval, bc she's lost those who loved her unconditionally, and can't trust those around her bc they're all trapped in the game with her, she doesn't want to be the favorite, she needs to be the favorite, it's the only way to survive, the only way for some semblance of safety and control, and yes, she gets along with mortals better than gods because they hold no power over her, they can't threaten the position she's worked so hard to achieve. Until Odysseus compromises a part of her that she hadn't thought she still had. Attachment never felt like danger with Pallas, but it does now, because what does it matter if you're more powerful when you respect the other person too much not to honor their wishes, should they tell you to leave them alone? If asked, she will have to leave, and that's terrifying (None of that would be overly conscious before My goodbye but for me, that breakup deep down always will be Athena being scared of her own feelings and trying to stop it before it goes too far and being at least 15 years too late.)

Woah that got dark lol I just wrote the last section and was like 👀fuck I am projecting SO bad. Like... gods I am so not okay. Jokes on me I thought I had headcanons all I have is trauma lmao

Anyways lol

Hope you liked it, and do let me know if you had something else in mind, I'll do my best :3

[the-boy-meets-evil]

as wild and untamable as the sea | l.c (teaser)

pairing: greek god!chan x reincarnated sea nymph!f!reader genre: angst, smut | (very minor) reincarnation, fantasy, greek gods!au rating: explicit, minors DNI (for full fic, nothing in this teaser) word count: 850 for the teaser (TBD on full fic, prob 10k+) warnings: none for the teaser (full fic: explicit smut, past unhealthy relationships, plays with greek mythology, etc) post date: november 16th (hopefully)

summary: Chan remembers everything. Every little thing that's happened to him since his days as one of the twelve olympians. Poseidon to be exact. Even though he tries not to think about it now that he's living in modern times running a sad little aquarium, some memories are more vivid than others. Then, you stumble into his life and he can't explain the draw. You can't seem to figure out how this man is keeping an aquarium like this running when it seems like it's not that busy. Something about him really seems to put you off, despite the fact that he seems drawn to you. None of it makes any sense...until you start to remember.

a/n: this is for the 13 Gods of Olympus collab that @beomcoups & @wooahaeproductions have been tirelessly working on. thank you so much for hosting this! it's been fun (even if it's a challenge) to get lost in an entirely different world.

if you want to be tagged when i post, leave a comment or join my taglist here

Another day, another dollar. 

Wasn’t that what the humans said about another day spent working at some mindless job? Despite all the years he’s spent blending into their world, Chan still doesn’t really understand the humans. Doesn’t really understand why they put up with so many things they seemingly hate. Doesn’t really understand why they waste their short lives on something that makes them miserable. But, in fairness to the humans, Chan has also never had to worry about the trivial things that come along with working like money, possessions, or a home. When you’re one of the original gods of Olympus and life is seemingly infinite, money isn’t really an issue. 

That’s who Chan was in another lifetime: Poseidon. The God of the Sea, among other things. At least, until Olympus fell. A painful thought that he usually tries to push from his mind.

In the early days after Olympus fell, Chan still went through life acknowledging who he was. He leveraged his powers for favors or for payment. He used his control of the water and everything in it to get him what he needed. But, the years went by and the Olympians became the stuff of myth. Of stories. The kind of characters that you read about in books. Only the most eccentric members of society continue to worship the Olympians as if they’re real. Which they are, Chan reminds himself. Or, they were. As the faith faded, so did the Olympians’ belief in restoring themselves to full power. One by one, they gave up the task of finding a way back until it was only Chan and Zeus left. Two of the brightest minds of Olympus. Even they had to admit their own defeat. 

Which leads to the present day. Chan has taken on a new persona, for the…well, he’s lost track of what number this one is. He’s just thankful for his ability to shapeshift into someone new whenever he needs to. Takes a new name every time, too. At first, he tried to keep in touch with his siblings and the other Olympians. That, too, fades over time. It’s been at least a century since he’s spoken to any of them. Though, occasionally, he’ll catch wind of something through the chattering of local sea creatures. Something that says at least some of them are still out there.

Chan sighs. There’s really no reason for him to be wandering down memory lane in this way. He thinks, not for the first time, that maybe he needs to pick a different cover job. One that will keep his mind a little more occupied. The reality is, though, he’s tried nearly everything he could think of over the centuries. Changing professions is a frequent occurrence when he doesn’t want to let his body show too many signs of age. Not that he minds, it’s just that people start to ask too many questions about how he’s handling things someone “his age” shouldn’t be able to handle. In the end, working with sea life has always been the best. And this set up, where he’s running a smaller aquarium off of some long forgotten boardwalk in an area that doesn’t get much traffic, is also great. It isn’t even that Chan doesn’t like being around people. He finds humans entertaining in most senses. It’s just that nothing in this life is permanent for him. He’s not going to fall in love and grow old with someone. Best to just keep things at arm’s length. 

Most days are more or less the same and Chan works the majority of them. On the rare days off, he’s not far away since his little house is within walking distance of both the aquarium, the boardwalk it’s on, and the water. He trusts the limited staff that he has because he pays them well. Better than any other similar business, but he values loyalty. And they don’t seem to question how he’s able to make things work. That is largely due to the anonymous donors that make monthly contributions to the aquarium. Really, it’s just Chan funneling money that he’s earned over his many years on Earth so that he can keep a business afloat. Nobody seems to have anything to say. Beyond the staff not asking questions, they are all very good at their jobs. It makes life easier for Chan that way because he doesn’t have to micromanage them. Everyone knows what they’re supposed to do and will only ask questions if they hit an actual block. No, the aquarium runs very smoothly. It just doesn’t get a lot of business.

Since every day kind of blends together, Chan almost never realizes as days or weeks or even months pass by. He’s in a sort of autopilot where he also knows what he has to do and just does it without question. It’s just rinse and repeat day in and day out. 

Until it’s not. Until the first day that he notices you in his small, out of the way little aquarium. Until the day that everything starts to change.

[villaingaze]

scepter shenanigans — part i.

loki laufeyson x gn!reader

word count. 3.1k

synopsis. thor’s been gone since the events of the dark world. in the meantime, loki has now proclaimed himself the ruler of asgard, but finds himself caught up in a mission back on earth.

tags. wacky mission to retrieve the scepter (tiny inspiration after watching thunderbolts trailer), canon divergence, enemies-to-lovers(ish), they have history, banter, humour, swearing, some angst, fluff if you squint

animated dividers by cafekitsune

“LOOOOKI!”

You lunged towards him. Loki was caught off guard, his back facing you, and he gasped as you tackled him to the ground with a loud thud. Yet, human reflexes could never match those of a God. Instantly, Loki pushed you off of him. You groaned as your back hit the cold marble floor harshly.

A foolish, pathetic attempt, he thought. His hand immediately conjured a dagger as he crouched to your wincing body, and was about to raise it down when he realized — it was you.

Loki had last seen you four years ago. He called your name. “How did you—”

You forcefully kicked him in the groin, taking advantage of his loss of momentum. The grip of his dagger involuntarily weakened as it clattered to the ground. Seizing your chance, you swiftly took the weapon. You wielded it against his throat as you used your other forearm to push down against his chest firmly.

You were far too furious to realize that you were practically straddling him.

“Darling, if you wanted me like this, you could’ve just a—”

“Where is it?” you hissed. Honestly, it sounded more like a threat than an open-ended question.

“Where is what?” he heaved, still catching his breath.

“Your Scepter, you imbecile!”

“I beg your pardon, I am a God— ”

You edged the dagger nearer to his skin.

“Alright, alright!” Loki exclaimed, a wave of panic sweeping over him. At that moment, he truly believed you were capable of killing him. There was more reason for this, and he knew he could never earn your forgiveness after what he had done. “Believe me this instance, I do not have the Scepter!”

“Liar!” You yelled. “What business did you have on Earth?”

Your first instinct of Loki’s involvement was cemented when SHIELD identified his presence five days ago, aligning with the same time the weapon was reported to have been stolen.

Thor was believed to have been off-world, so he couldn’t help you access the Bifrost directly. Instead, you sought help just around 177A Bleecker Street. You were barely acquainted, and Stephen Strange was certainly less than willing and came off as rather prickly. However, he was eventually convinced as Loki was on his watch list of beings that posed a potential threat to the world.

In search of an incantation, Stephen bent through time and space, flipping through numerous ancient books in a split second. One moment, you were in a library, the next, you were at the bottom of the stairs. It was all very disorienting. With a wave of his fingers, he made work of his sorcery and eventually opened a portal.

You peered through the portal. You couldn’t believe your eyes; Loki was standing perfectly unharmed on the other side. He was leaning against a pillar, staring ahead of an open balcony, his gaze focused on what appeared to be a half-completed statue.

You had last seen him four years ago. When Thor had returned from Asgard and brought you news of his death, you were beyond devastated. The constant pang of regret and grief tormented your mind. Eventually, you tried to move on, and while you were able to get back on your feet, time never really healed all wounds.

Seeing him alive brought back a whirlwind of emotions. But all you could focus on was anger. You had truly believed that you lost him forever, and he had caused you so much unnecessary pain. Ridiculous. You should have seen it coming. Loki hadn’t really parted from his old ways, had he?

You continued to eye him with suspicion. “Strange.”

“Yes, indeed, this is all—”

“No, Stephen,” you called out.

Just then, bright sparks of orange flickered around the both of you, shaping into a portal as you both suddenly fell through. For a second, you were both falling into nothingness. Your heart lurched at the sudden drop, making you cling to Loki. He cushioned your fall as you both plummeted to the ground. You were back at the Sanctum Sanctorum.

“Well, that was faster than I expected,” a voice descended the stairs to meet you and the culprit. You took a moment to recover from the fall, and Stephen offered you a hand as you stood up. “Just so you know, I’m holding you accountable if things go sideways. Supervise him at all times.”

“No worries,” you replied. “Thanks for the help.”

Loki staggered to his feet. “Supervise me? I do not need—”

You grasped his hands, placing them in a pair of handcuffs. They were the same ones that Bruce and Tony had specifically developed to hinder his seiðr. Loki was chained for the first three months when he had lived in the Avengers Tower. He scowled as unpleasant memories flashed into his head.

“Seriously?”

“Move.” You hustled him out of the mansion.

You dragged him around to the spot where you had parked your car, and you sat him down on the front passenger seat, before slotting yourself at the front of the steering wheel.

“Ahem.”

You turned to look at him blankly.

“Safety,” he added coolly, motioning to his unbuckled seatbelt.

You forcefully stepped your foot down on the pedal as you drove off.

The drive back to your apartment was awkward, to say the least. Loki drummed his fingers on his lap. He repeatedly glimpsed at the window for a brief couple of seconds, before glancing around the interior of your car and circling right back to look at you. He was eager to say something. Eventually, he broke the silence.

“You look well.”

“…And you’re not dead.”

Loki forced a laugh. “This is not actually about the Scepter, is it?”

You chose not to respond, keeping your eyes on the road. Loki noticed your grip tightened on the steering wheel. Perhaps, you were not ready for that conversation yet, he thought.

A beat.

“If you must know, I only went down to send Odin off to one of your Midgardian care homes.”

You eventually glanced at him disapprovingly. “You mean exiling a literal celestial being on Earth?”

“Well, I—”

“Hang on a second— are you telling me you usurped Odin’s throne?”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, folding his arms. He placed his legs on the dashboard, but not long before you swatted them down. “I devised a better way to keep things in control. His time is nearing, and that halfwit who calls himself his son has disappeared. I merely stepped up for that old man’s sake.”

Unbelievable, you thought, shaking your head. He was just as conceited as before and his old grudges had never waned. “So this is what you’ve been doing? Loki, I thought you ended this selfish pursuit for power.”

“It is not selfish! Asgard is more prosperous than ever.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see that for myself.”

“And you shall,” he quickly added. “If we turn back now and you return me promptly.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Nice try, Reindeer Games.” He hadn’t heard that stupid nickname in years. You knew how much he loathed it, especially when Tony used it often to provoke him. “But I’ve yet to locate the Scepter. And I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere until you tell me where it is.”

He stared at you like you said something utterly ridiculous. “Were you not listening to a word I said? I did not come back to this dreadful place to retrieve my weapon. You have my word!”

“Your word, Loki?” You seethed. “As if you aren’t already the most infamous Trickster God that they tell myths and stories about you here.”

“What, am I supposed to be honored?”

“No, Loki! Have you learned nothing?” Your frustration boiled over, and you instantly pulled the car to stop at the side of the road. “I don’t think you know how hard I fought throughout these years to pardon you for the irreversible damage you have caused. It’s always been personal to you, isn’t it?”

His eyes sharply narrowed. “This… this is your opinion of me? Do you honestly think I would—”

“Loki, I can’t trust you anymore!” You finally snapped. In the heat of the moment, wretched thoughts that you had tried to suppress for years came pouring out. “You lie, you manipulate, you hurt and you— you just leave! That’s all you… that's all you seem to do.”

It felt like time had paused. Embarrassment washed over your body. You couldn’t look at him. Eventually, you started the car again, and you both endured the silence for the rest of the journey back home. Loki had no words. You were hurting because of him. Then again, he always ended up hurting people anyway, right? Guilt flooded his thoughts as he simply turned his eyes to the window, watching the streets pass by.

2012

The first time you talked to Loki was… interesting. Like, actually talked. All you had done for the past week was hurl quips and flowery insults at each other.

It was late at night. You couldn’t sleep. New York never really slept, after all. You had dealt with thieves, mercenaries, assassins, but never aliens. The Battle of New York was entirely different, and you still couldn’t comprehend that any of it was real. The Chitauri had led a brutal onslaught, and their grotesque appearances painted a permanent image in your head.

You felt a presence suddenly behind you, and you picked up the faint sounds of cautious, deliberate footsteps.

“Can I help you?” You asked aloud.

The hallways were pitch-black, and Loki appeared out of the shadows. He sauntered to stand next to you, as you both stared ahead of the huge glass window that offered an impressive view of the city skyline.

He thought for a moment. “No, actually. In fact, I don’t think anyone here can.”

“This isn’t a punishment, Loki,” you reminded. “Your father sent you here for reasons, you know.”

“He imprisoned me here.” You heard the clink of his chains, his tone quickly turning acidic. “Learn humanity, he said, yet I do not see an ounce of it from any of you.”

“That’s because you refuse to see it.”

He snorted. “You mortals have nothing to offer anyway.”

You turned to observe him. From the angle of the moonlight, you could see the faint hue of blue in his eyes, and his slicked-back hair with the ends sharply curled. Oh, and he still refused to change from his ridiculous bulky armor. But he almost looked quite pretty, if he weren’t so abrasive in character.

“You know, for a God so arrogant, how are you so insecure?”

He didn’t respond.

“Thor told me about your little ruse in Stuttgart. You were made to be ruled, is that what you said?” You continued to goad him. “Is this all a petulant desire to be king? A jealousy towards your brother that has made you blind? Or that you are not—”

He had heard enough. Loki suddenly grasped your wrists, forcefully pinning them above your head as he slammed you against the glass wall. There was a dark look in his eyes as he glared at you. He leaned in closely.

“Don’t think for a second you know all about my grievances. Whatever Thor has told you about me is all in the perspective of his foolish mind.”

For a long moment, you both just stared at each other. Your faces were only inches apart. You could hear his breathing. Aware of the vulnerable position you were in, you knew that he could just kill you right there and then. But he didn’t. Instead, you caught the smallest movement in his eyes as they briefly flickered down to your lips.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Loki was taken aback by your sudden apology. It came out in a soft whisper, and never before had he felt a sincerity in your tone. He released you from his hold.

You continued. “But just… stop thinking you’re above everybody else, Loki. You’re being a real dick.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Just because you were hurt does not give you the right to hurt others. You’re always saying that we’re mistreating you, but we only want to help you. You just don’t want to help yourself. Sure, Tony’s difficult on you and Natasha really hates your guts, but trust takes time, you know. And time works differently between us and… someone like you. But that means you practically have all the time in the world. So give it a shot. That way, you’ll stop making things miserable for us and yourself.”

Loki was for once rendered speechless. Aside from your remark at the end, he suddenly felt a strange warmth just listening to your words. The sensation was unfamiliar and indescribable, but it was… comforting. Maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this.

You snapped him out of his thoughts. “Hey, I got an open slot for a sparring session at 2.30 tomorrow, you game?”

“I… Sure.”

PRESENT DAY

You eventually reached the building, and you grabbed Loki out of the car. He followed, with no other obvious choice. Neither of you exchanged words until you were at your apartment door. As you reached for the keys in your pocket, Loki began to speak.

“What is this place? Why are we not back at the tower?” He wrinkled his nose.

“This is where I live.” You deadpanned, offended by his comment, “I’m sorry if this is not to your liking, your royal highness.”

You unlocked your door and headed straight to the table to turn on your laptop. Loki slowly took in the surroundings as he entered your apartment. It was a small two-room flat. There were stacks of files lying across your table, and some threatening to topple over. He walked over to a spread of newspapers that were messily plastered on your walls.

“Sokovia Accords Passed Into Law,” Loki read a title out loud. “The Avengers Disbanded?” He turned to look at you, where you were seated at the other end of the room. He tilted his head to one side.

You stopped typing your report midway and looked up at him, shaking your head. You weren’t up to discussing it at the moment. Loki noticed the way your expression turned grim.

He knew they meant a lot to you, regardless of whether he fully understood what had happened. They were like a family. Well, they were your family. Never really felt like his, anyway. But he understood what it felt like, only you appeared to have lost touch with almost everyone you loved. If only he hadn’t…

Loki couldn’t confront the unease. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, eventually occupying himself by opening every one of your cabinets. He proceeded to check the fridge, deciding to steal a fresh, bright red apple. He gave it a small toss in the air before taking a bite, as he walked to where you were seated.

You had pushed aside your thoughts and focused on finishing up the report when you realized that SHIELD had sent a new document to your inbox. You clicked it open. Loki stood behind you, raising his eyebrows as you both read the file. The revelation was like a blow to the face.

“Would you look at that? They’ve located the Scepter? Oh, darling, you have never been so wrong—”

“Don’t.” You could practically hear his smug grin.

You scrolled down further to check the coordinates, furrowing your eyebrows upon reading the information. “Avengers Tower? It can’t be.”

“I never knew Stark was so capable of—”

“No, he sold the tower a year ago,” you refuted Loki’s claim, reaching towards a heap of documents to pull out the contract you recovered. “…To a woman named Valentina Fontaine.”

You suddenly recognized her name and pulled up a profile on your screen. “She’s an ex-agent of SHIELD. It’s unconfirmed, but recent sources were saying she works for HYDRA now.”

“I suppose it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find out then.” Loki took another bite of the apple as he continued, his words muffled but still audible. “They seem like they barely have any intellect, after all.”

“What do you mean?” You turned to look at him questioningly.

Loki swallowed before he explained. “The Scepter is a containment vessel, in case you have forgotten. It simply wields an infinity stone and harnesses its power. But without a stone, it’s—”

“Essentially useless. Unless they are planning to… or they already have…”

“Exactly,” he replied, pleased you understood.

You were suddenly reminded of the times you both were assigned on missions together. The jobs prioritized efficiency and demanded them to be done quickly, which only made you more prone to forget certain details.

Loki, however, couldn’t care less about the nature of these assignments and simply went about doing things his way. He would take his own sweet time examining everything before deciding on a course of action. It slowed down the mission, and at the start, this made you extremely frustrated. More often than not, you both were sidetracked because of your lengthy arguments, and Tony had to butt in to stop the both of you from tearing at each other’s throats and compromising the mission.

However, with time, you only grew to realize that Loki was an asset to the team. More times than you could count, he actually prevented missions from going awry. It was more than you’d ever admit, but he turned out to be an exceptional partner. You only wished that the others realized this sooner. Although, you knew you couldn’t blame them entirely; Loki was intelligent and meticulous, but it also meant he could be cunning and manipulative, which was more than enough reason to be wary.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, standing to grab your jacket from the coat rack. “I’m heading out, you’re coming with me.”

“What? Could it not possibly be more evident? I have no involvement in—”

“Who knows, Loki? Maybe this is some elaborate, grand scheme you planned in that head of yours to fool everyone. Besides, I’ve got to supervise you so you don’t terrorize half the city while I’m gone.”

“You just can’t seem to admit that you’re wrong, can you?” He fumed, fighting hard not to roll his eyes.

Without warning, you snatched the half-finished apple from his hand, tossing it into the bin. You grabbed your car keys from the counter and headed out of the apartment. “Let’s go.”

“I wasn’t done eating,” Loki muttered to himself, rushing out to catch up with your pace.

[fandomworld9728]

Radioapple Angst Request! - Part 2:

“Why is it that I always seem to find you on the roof?”

“That’s a secret.” Turning to Alastor with an amused smile, he patted the spot next to him. “Gonna come sit with me this time or call me an idiot and tell me to get to bed again?”

“I suppose I can humor you tonight. But only tonight.”

That one night had turned into many more. They were by far some of the best nights of Alastor’s afterlife.

Evenings after dinner on the roof, sleepless nights spent together in Lucifer’s ridiculously large bed talking about whatever popped into their heads, late nights drinking in Alastor's radio tower…

He was not going to lose those moments just because the little king was being a coward. Now if only Alastor could figure out why. Why did he run away like that?

Perhaps their dear Charlie knows. He’ll have to go and ask her before he goes over to the palace. It was always best to be prepared.

~

“No, no, no. Why is it flaring up now? Roo… why won't you just leave me in peace?” He could feel it creeping up his neck. The darkness. It was wrapping around his throat and covering his eyes-

“Lucifer!”

“Alastor maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Nonsense. Isolation isn’t good for the mind. Especially one that is spiraling. Much like your father’s.”

Charlie? Alastor? What in the unholy hell were they doing here?! It wasn't safe! He had to leave. Had to get away and keep them safe-

"There you are sire!"

Shit! "S-Stay back! Don't come near me, either of you!"

"Dad? What's going on- what is that blood goop?!"

Time was running out. He couldn't stop it from happening this time. "Alastor. I swear I will tell you everything if you get Charlie out of here. It isn't safe."

"...Very well."

"What? No! Let me stay and help!"

This was it. As soon as Charlie was out of those doors Lucifer would tell him everything. After that, he would leave, and this darkness would most likely swallow him whole forever. Lilith wasn't here to use her song to keep it at bay anymore.

"Alright. I was promised an explanation." Taking a look quickly around the room, Alastor only now noticed what a mess it was.

Not just from dust or clutter like he had expected to find. Furniture was upturned and looked like it had been thrown, and some looked to be smashed into pieces. The walls and floors had claw marks across them. Then, there was Lucifer himself.

"First, you can tell me about those shadows that seem to be trying to devour you."

Lucifer was silent for a moment, compilating the request. He didn't have time for this. But what choice did he have? He said he would explain everything. So, with what time he had left, he would hold up his end of the agreement.

"It's... the darkness. It's Roo. After what I did... letting evil into the world, I went and spoke with Roo. She made a deal with me. The very first demonic deal... she wanted to always be with me and in exchange she would keep the balance between the light and dark in the world. In people's hearts and souls."

What? Did Alastor hear that correctly? Lucifer, who has always hated his demonic form and everything that came with it, especially in the very beginning, made the very first demonic deal in creation to once again save humans? To right what he and Heaven deemed a mistake?

"But... fuck! I can't even do that right!" Pushing his hair out of his face, Lucifer let a bitter, self-loathing laugh slip out. Along with the tears he had so desperately been trying to hide.

"What do you mean?"

"When I'm stressed, or my emotions become too much to handle, I slip. My control wavers! She takes over my body and senses! Roo is able to upset the balance! Lilith... her song helped. Her singing can hypnotize people. It only worked on me for a couple of seconds, but that was enough time for me to regain control."

It felt... good... to talk to someone about this. He could feel the darkness recede. Just a little, but that just meant he had more time. More time with Alastor.

"It's one of the reasons I would isolate myself. Especially... Especially after I had hurt Charlie- Oh god! Lilith was right to take her when she left! I almost killed my little girl!"

"Lucifer! You're spiraling again!" Reaching out to try and get him to stop pulling at his hair, Alastor was surprised and a little hurt when he recoiled. He had never rejected his touch before.

"You can't touch me! She'll infect you or I-I'll hurt you! Please..."

Taking a few deep breaths to try and steady himself, Lucifer continued. As much as he was worried that he would hurt him, it helped to have him here.

"I didn't want to reject your confession. I was just- I'm scared. I can't take another heartbreak. I gave up everything for someone who left. Who got tired of all my baggage. Honestly, I can't blame her. I knew it might happen one day. I just hoped that she wouldn't have kept me from my own daughter, who I carried and gave birth to since she couldn't. And to just pretend I don't exist!"

~

"Alastor what is going on?!"

It had all happened so fast. Lucifer had transformed right in front of his eyes into a giant Eldrige being, destroying the palace in the process. It was glorious. However, the circumstances were not. Alastor had to fix this. So, he returned to the hotel quickly with a plan.

"Your father is trapped in Roo's darkness. Do not worry, I know what to do."

"And what would that be?"

"That, my dears, is to reassure that foolish king that I have no intentions of leaving. He is forever stuck with me whether he likes it or not."

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged worried glances before looking back at Alastor. "How can we help?"

~

Lucifer hated this part the most. Floating in a void of darkness. At least he was starting to lose himself enough that the screams of his people were beginning to muffle. If only he had some light...

"Salutations! Dear Sinners, worry no longer. For I am here to tame the beast that is our very own King of Hell."

Huh? Alastor? How could he hear his voice so clearly? Wait. Was that... light? A light was just ahead! If only he could reach it! But... he was tired...

"Once he comes to his senses, Hell can enjoy a royal wedding. Between whom you may ask. Why, dear listeners, Lucifer Morningstar and myself."

A wedding? For him and Alastor? He wanted to... no. He could just be saying that. There was no way. Right?

"Including a soul deal forever binding us together. You will not get rid of me Lucifer. Even if I have to hunt you down and drag you back kicking and screaming."

He couldn't believe it. He had to get free, go to him and apologize. The light was shining brighter as he swam to it. Fighting against the shadows and self-doubt for the first time in a long time that tried to pull him back, Lucifer finally reached it! Reaching out the last little bit of distance to grab it and let it envelop him.

In an instance, the darkness exploded off his body and rushed back inside of him, leaving him to fall from the sky. He was too weak to use his wings to catch himself. He barely registered it, but he could feel warm and sturdy arms catch him. Looking up, Lucifer saw that he was back in the care of Alastor. He was really going to have to make it up to him.

Part 1

[rubyfa]

So concept, epic mission to make the seven as queer as possible because real life reasons we need not get into. This will have retroactive stuff not just stuff that applies to heroes of olympus.

Percy: Bisexual trans girl. Spends too much time describing how hot men are to be straight. And I read her self esteem issues as partially caused by gender dysphoria. So as a result after becoming aware of what trans is transitions via magic herbal methods provided by Mr. D during Titan's Curse for some 'Will Annabeth like the new me?' angst. Still goes by Percy but has disowned Perseus cause Percy has some GNC swag that fits her vibe.

Annabeth: Bisexual. Spoilers she likes the new Percy cause the way she looks at Thalia is definitely not straight. Percabeth is Bi4Bi but not T4T cause Annabeth is too middle of the road girl for me to see it. Still gets to be doomed yuri though.

Jason: Bi+ while technically not a queer category furry. You're telling me this man was raised by wolves since he was a toddler and he's the normal one? Absolutely not. He's a little freak and we love him for it.

Leo: Gay. All the ladies love Leo but Leo does not love all the ladies. Also canonize valgrace while we're at it.

Piper: Still a lesbian. Hera/Juno stinky and stuck her with a man. Terrible woman. Anyway yeah.

Frank: Transfem lesbian. Percy recovers her memories and tells Frank and Hazel about being born a boy and Frank goes 'Wait that's an option?' and her powers do the rest. Probably chooses a new name but Francine does not fit her chubby teddy bear vibe. Also she gets to stay chubby. Fat≠unhealthy so she can be as strong as a bear without looking like a bodybuilder.

Hazel: Bi. Horse girls like women it's a universal truth.