#tw: forced miscarriage

[imtryingbuck]

Timeless Love.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky might have met the love of his life in the middle of a war, he just wished he was able to live a life with her.

Word count: 6,598

Warnings: angst. kidnapping. fluff. Hydra. forced breeding. forced miscarriage.

A/N: enjoyed writing this!! Thank you for the request. Also thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me when I needed it!🤍

Part 2

Masterlist

“Y/n L/n. 107th.”

She nodded smiling at her friend who had also been given the same unit. All the nurses - professional and volunteers alike were waiting for their names to be called to hear what unit they would be stationed with.

Then she was given the news that she was going to be the matron. And at twenty four years old that was a massive accomplishment, herself and her parents were beyond proud.

“Hey doc” she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at hearing the familiar voice that she began hearing everyday. “I’m injured doll, need your help to patch me back up”

Looking up for the clipboard she carried around she saw the Sergeant who had captured all the attention from all the nurses. Though he never paid any mind to them, just her.

James Buchanan Barnes.

“Firstly I’m not a doctor, just a nurse and secondly this is your seventh time coming here this week”

“Firstly you should be a doctor, better than the one we’ve got and secondly I keep getting hurt”

“Bucky… it’s only Wednesday.”

“You love me. Aren’t you going to ask me what my very serious injury is?”

“I don’t love you. Okay, what seems to be the problem Sergeant?”

“Y-you don’t love me? I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight thanks to you!”

“What’s your injury Sergeant?”

“My heart” he places his hand on his chest and looks up at her sympathetically. “My heart hurts doll”

“James… you do realise that your heart is on the left side not the right…”

Moving his hand to the left side “Oh… are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure” chuckling at his facial expression, he winks causing her to laugh.

“The truth is that I just wanted to see you, I like you even though you’re being mean to me” he pouts and bats his eyelashes as he kicked his legs back and forth.

“How am I being mean to you?” She asks whilst counting stock, trying her hardest to ignore the intense gaze of his ocean blue eyes on her back.

“Because you won’t let me take you dancing”

“You should go with one of the other nurses James”

“I don’t want any of the other nurses, just you”

“You-“

“Y/n! Y/n quick we need you!” Mary’s panic scream interrupted her. Jumping up and rushing out of the tent with Bucky right behind her, a group of men carrying a stretcher with a man lying on it. His right leg gone as well as his left arm.

“Get him in here” Bucky opens the flaps of the tent, his eyes trained on the young soldier as they passed him. “Help me transfer him on to the bed, carefully.”

Bucky watched on as Y/n took control, ordering the nurses around and trying to get the soldiers to move away so she could work. When one of the men wouldn’t move Bucky stepped in.

It wasn’t long before Y/n made everyone get out except for the nurses.

“Go” Bucky’s head snapped from the medical tent to Dum Dum sitting next to him, giving the man a questioning look, Dum Dum laughed. “The doc”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about” he mumbled before downing the rest of his drink.

“You’ve been turning down women all night and I’m honestly surprised that you haven’t burnt a hole into the tent with how intense you’ve been looking at it. Oh and let’s not forget that you’ve been obsessed from the second you laid eyes on her”

“I-no I haven’t.”

“You have, and don’t bother trying to argue with me. Go and talk to her”

“And say what?”

“That’s on you” Bucky contemplated on whether or not to take his friend’s advice, it didn’t take too long before he was getting up and heading over to the medical tent. “Shes in her own tent” he heard from behind him so he changed course.

Standing outside the small tent he fixed his hair before pushing the flap aside, he found her sitting hunched over the small table one hand in her hair and the other scribbling away as she filled in paperwork.

“I can feel your eyes on me” her whispered voice snapped him out of his head.

“Are you alright doll?”

“I’m fine don’t worry, go and enjoy your night”

Moving closer to her he saw the tears falling freely down her cheeks. “Hey, hey why are you crying doll?”

“He… he didn’t make it. I tried everything bu-but it wasn’t enough, he was only seventeen Bucky.”

“Oh doll. You did everything you could-“

“But it wasn’t enough! And within the week his parents are going to know I failed, I failed to save their son”

Bucky pulled her into his arms, holding her close to his chest ignoring the feeling of her tears wetting his shirt. “It’s not your fault” he whispered over and over again as she fell apart in his arms.

“I failed”

“No you didn’t! Nobody would have been able to have saved him Y/n and you know that.”

“He was only seventeen Bucky. A child!”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

As the laughing and music continued outside Bucky kept Y/n close to his chest, rocking them both from side to side slowly. Sleep began to overtake them, being the gentleman that he was he turned his back on her waiting for her to change into her nightwear.

“Goodnight doll”

“Stay… please”

“Of course” he was slightly shocked by seeing her shifting over in the small cot then patting the space she had created.

Climbing in next to her, wrapping her up and pulling her into his chest. Pressing his lips to her forehead “goodnight my love”

It became an unspoken routine between the two of them that Bucky would sleep in her bed, they ignored the teasing from all those around them - as if the nurses weren’t warming the soldiers beds themselves. There was nothing sexual about what they were doing, it was just two lost souls finding themselves seeking shelter within one another.

That however changed one night when Bucky went into their now shared tent finding her once again hunched over the table. “Hi doll”

“Hi Sergeant”

“Me and the guys move out tomorrow”

“I heard. How are you feeling?” She asked looking up from the papers in front of her.

“Nervous I won’t lie, but I’m going to miss you”

“I’m going to miss you too but you shouldn’t be gone long, right?”

“Two weeks, three at the most” he shrugged. “Doll, come and dance with me”

“There’s no music…”

“So? Come on” he held his hand out for her to take, his heart fluttering with the look she gave him as she puts her hand in his. “You are so pretty” he whispers as they swayed together.

“‘M not.”

“Yes you are. From the second I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most prettiest dame I had ever laid eyes on.”

“You’re lying!” She chuckled.

“I am not!”

“If you say so”

Bucky gently raises her head up by her chin, “I have never lied to you.”

“Bucky… kiss me please” she asked softly. Their lips met slowly at first before growing heatedly and passionately.

The next morning with only a thick blanket covering their naked bodies they basked in the silence of the camp, Bucky running his fingers through her hair and Y/n drawing invisible circles on his chest.

“When this war comes to an end me and you are going to get married” Bucky declared as he broke the silence.

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope” he chuckled. “Why, don’t you want to marry me?”

“And put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, why what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re annoying”.

“And?” He drawls with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll probably smoother you in your sleep?”

“And? Doll you aren’t giving me a good reason for why we shouldn’t get married”

“You honestly want to marry me?”

“More than anything, and I promise I’ll be an amazing husband and we’ll have so much fun together an-“

“Yes”

“-d we’ll make so many memories-“

“Yes”

“-and we’ll grow old toge-wait… yes?”

“Yes Bucky, I’ll marry you when the war is ov-“ her words get cut off from him pressing his lips to hers.

“I can’t wait to annoy you for the rest of our lives together”

Later that morning, before Dum Dum led his unit out of the camp heading to only where they knew they were going Bucky ran over to Y/n giving her a kiss and promised her that he would come back to her.

Since the only people left there was the nurses, injured men and some of the officials the camp was excruciatingly quiet. And since it was only just them… well the camp had become very boring.

Two weeks passed quicker than she thought, waiting to hear the loud chatter from the men to fill in the silence yet it never came. Another week went by and again there was no sight of them. Y/n was helping Private Smith sit up in more of a comfortable position when Mary came rushing in, slightly out of breath.

“Th-they’ve been captured!”

“What? How do you know?”

“Word just come in, I overheard it but apparently Captain America is going to rescue them because he knows someone in the unit”

“I-okay. Okay erm… we’ll need to get things set up for when they come back just incase they are hurt” Y/n rambled off, unaware that she was squeezing Smiths hand - not like he minded.

“He’ll be fine darling” Smith squeezed her hand back.

“I-I know. You need to eat-“

“I will don’t worry but you need to eat too darling as well”

Sitting down next to him they enjoyed a nice meal together, Smith doing everything to help get her mind off of Bucky and the others by talking to her about his life before the war, his wife and children, telling her all the plans he had planned when he got home. It worked. Until it was time to go to bed, being alone with her thoughts made her mind come up with all kinds of scenarios and most of them weren’t good.

It was another two weeks before word got to them that they were coming back. Captain America had saved them.

Y/n was in the medical tent filling out paperwork when applause erupted in the air as Captain America approached with the 107th behind him, hearing the cheers she jumped up and began getting things ready, as the first person was brought in her sole attention was on the solider and not the other one she had been worrying about in the five weeks since she had seen him.

“Hey! Let’s hear it for Captain America!” She smiled at hearing his voice as she concentrated on the patient in front of her.

“He’s already asked about you” Ann says as she put pressure on the solider’s wound.

“Ah, your the famous doc that he wouldn’t shut up talking about”

“Excuse me?”

“Barnes? Yeah he wouldn’t stop talking about you, if you ask me he’s in love with you” the guy winked.

It wasn’t until everything in the medical tent had calmed down that she had heard his voice again. “I’m injured doll”

Spinning around she sees him standing there with a grin on his dirt covered face. “Who are you?”

“Your future husband, silly. Missed you doll”

“I missed you too” hearing her words he crossed over to where she stood and placed his hands on her face, cupping her face before placing his lips against hers. Both sighing in content at the feeling they had both been missing for weeks.

“Are you hurt? Where?”

“‘M not hurt my love, just messing with you”

“Are you not going to introduce me Buck?” A new voice cut through making them take a step apart from each other.

“Y/n this is Steve, Steve this is my doll” Y/n smiled at the blond who happily returned the expression.

“It’s nice to meet the woman who this one wouldn’t stop talking about”

“I didn’t talk about her once” Bucky rushed out. “I didn’t doll” shaking his head whilst looking at her.

“He’s actually not the first person to tell me that” Y/n winked at Steve making the man laugh.

“I hate the both of you.”

A celebration was held that night when they came back, the men sharing the tale of how they were captured - all teasing each other when they said they weren’t scared. Telling the women how Captain America had told them to leave but they refused, Dum Dum said that they arrived together and were going to be leaving together. Everyone including Y/n hanging on to every word that was spoken of their rescue and how they defeated the enemy.

Bucky never spoke a word, no, he was too lost in watching the flames of the fire-pit flickering off Y/n’s face. Mesmerised by the way her eyes shined so brightly in the darkness, audibly groaning as he watched her bite her lip - his mind going straight to the gutters.

Much later that night Bucky took his time in making love to her.

The 107th Infantry Regiment had been teamed up with Steve to take down an organisation, Bucky promised her that he would contact her whenever they set up camp for the night. Every night they spoke even if it was just for a few minutes, he told her where they were and asked how everything back at camp was going, before ending their call he would tell her that he was coming back to her.

The last time she spoke to him he informed her that they were in Austria, he made her giggle when he complained that they had to go up the alps, telling her how cold it was. He then shocked her by telling her that he was in love with her. Before she could even respond the connection cut off.

She knew there was something wrong when she never received another call from him, Mary and Ann told her that he was just busy and that he would come back and everything was going to be fine. Every time she tried to speak with the General about the update of where they were he just walked away from her.

For two months she didn’t hear anything from him or from anyone, for two months she spent her time trying to take her mind off of the brunette who had wormed himself into her heart.

Mary came running over to the river where Y/n was sitting watching as the ducks swam past her. “Y/n… they’re back.”

Jumping up and running to where the men were, she looked around for the man who she had been missing more than anything, her eyes moved frantically from man to man who all seemed to have a problem with making eye contact with her. Her heart settled when a hand rested itself on her shoulder.

“Darlin’ I-I need to talk to you” it was Dum Dum.

“W-where is he? Dum…”

“Come with me love” he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and moved them to her tent. “I’m sorry darling, he… he didn’t make it”

“W-where is he though?”

“He fell off the train in the alps, we couldn’t find his body”

“No… no we need to fi-find him so his family can bury him… Dum please” his heart ached for the woman in front of him, all he could do was hold her in his arms as she broke down crying. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Bucky’s last words to Steve was him begging the blond to make sure he looked after Y/n.

After crying for a good solid ten minutes she removed herself from his arms, wiped her tears before nodding and walking out - leaving Dum Dum standing there dumbfounded.

She knew herself that she wasn’t going to be able to be aloud time away to mourn, they weren’t dating or married, while they had feelings for each other and they spent every waking moment together it didn’t mean anything to the higher ups. Walking into the medical tent everyone went quiet at seeing her, Mary tried telling her that she could go and rest but Y/n just shook her head and got to work. She needed the distraction to take her mind away from the pain in her chest.

For months after she became a shell of herself, no longer laughing or smiling, no longer holding conversations with anyone, always working and taking little care for herself. And finally that day came when the war ended, everyone around her celebrated whilst she was packing up her things ready to head back home.

It had been two years since the war ended and people were still picking up their lives. Y/n was on her way to home after finishing her shift at the local hospital when a black car pulled up alongside her.

“Excuse me Miss, are you Y/n L/n?” A man asked as he got out of the car.

“I am, who are you?”

“Ah, we have a friend in common”

“We do? Wait what are you do-“

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be Miss L/n, wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Her eyes were wide as his hand tightened around her neck, her whole body trembling with fear. “Nighty night” he smirks as he presses a needle into her left arm.

Y/n woke up disoriented and dazed with her hands and ankles tied painfully tight, trying to speak but her words came out as slurred. “Ah little lambs awake. Go back to sleep little lamb” the same guy from side of the road spoke, but instead of a needle being pushed into her arm he raised his leg and kicked her straight in the face. Knocking her out instantly.

The second time she awoke was when a bucket of stale water was thrown into her face, both arms tied to arms of the chair she was uncomfortably sat in. A man infront of her smiled as she was trying to blink away the water droplets off her eyelashes.

“So you’re the precious little one that our Soldat keeps muttering about, no matter how many times we wipe his memories he always mutters your name”

“I-I don’t know who you are talking about”

“Soldat! You know him” the unnamed man shouts as if it was the most obvious thing. “Get her ready. Miss… I won’t lie to you, what’s going to happen next is going to hurt… well have fun” the man sighs dramatically and then chuckles making his way to the door, leaving her alone with four men holding guns.

Everything that happened next happened in a blur from two of the men grabbing her roughly and dragging her down the corridor, to being strapped down on a cold metal table - a meek looking man muttering something to her that she couldn’t quite understand before a large needle was injected into her arm. 

When she woke the next time she was in a small room - on the floor, that only had a chipped white framed bed with a thin mattress on top of it, she grimaced at seeing the blotches of stains. Her nose crunched upward at the nasty aroma lingering the room. Y/n flinched at hearing noises just outside, she could hear clearly that a man was laughing which caused her to back away and put her hands over her ears trying desperately to block out the sound. Not understanding why everything was amplified.

“Ah, little lamb you’re awake. I’m pleased to tell you that it’s worked, your going to be our new little asset-“

“W-what have you done to me?”

“We’ve made you stronger than any man could wish to be! We’ve made you fast-“

“What have you done!”

“Right, we’ve injected you with a special serum that’s enhanced you. Your lucky little lamb, those before you never made it past the thirty minute mark after injection. Now you’re ready for your second phase of becoming our little asset, boys… be careful with her.” The second he finished his sentence the same four men from before came in and grabbed her roughly once again.

Being dragged down a corridor and into a room she tried to beg the men to let her go, pleading with them that she had a family and they’d be looking for her, she even tried bribing them. Her begs and cries fell on deaf ears.

“Now little lamb, from what I can gather is that this chair here, a beauty in her own right isn’t actually nice to those that sit in her. She’s not exactly been kind to your little boyfriend but that’s because he tries to fight it, I’m going to be kind to you and suggest that you don’t do the same as him otherwise it will hurt more.” He waved his hand in the air lazily and the two agents that had ahold of her shoved her towards the chair, once sat they strapped her legs down and placed a strap across her chest.

“P-please stop ple-“

“None of that little lamb, it’s not going to hurt… much” he chuckles. “Try not to scream, it’ll will only annoy me”

She goes to reply when a loud buzzing sound came from both sides to her, frozen and strapped into place as two metal plates places themselves onto her face. Y/n could hear the man in a white coat start to count down from five, squeezing her eyes shut tightly she saw a blinding white light as her whole body spasmed and withered in pain. The agents all flinched as the glass behind them started to crack. Once it finished and the plates were moved away from her head, her head started to roll to the side as drool began seeping from her mouth.

“Little lamb, do you remember me?”

“W-w-where am I?” Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool, and her tongue felt heavy.

“What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/n”

“Do it again”

By the eighth time of having her mind wiped the window was gone, she had blood seeping from her ears and nose, her bottom half was wet. After they were done with her she was dragged back to her cell and tossed on the ground as if she was nothing.

Y/n had forgotten everything. She didn’t know who she was or where she was. They kept calling her little lamb. Crawling into the corner of the room she pulled her knees up to her chest and began mumbling incoherently to herself.

Every time she closed her eyes all she saw was a blacked out face with the brightest blue eyes.

For years she moved and breathed when they told her too, she spoke when they said, she ate when they told her to eat - not like it was much mind you.

Throughout those years she didn’t understand her purpose of why she was there, she never got to leave the place she was kept at, all she did was train and fight with those who were a lot bigger then her in height and weight.

What she didn’t realise is that she did have a purpose for those she worked for, and that she was leaving the base to do their bidding. Completely unaware that she had taken so many lives.

She didn’t know what they were injecting into her every few months was the sperm belonging to the Winter Soldier in hopes that they could create an army of pure bred super soldiers that they could use to fight and take down their enemies without themselves having to do anything. Or that the nurse who seemed to take pity on her would give her a tablet to force the innocent little foetus to never grow up in a world that it would only be used for pain and suffering.

She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, one minute she was training with the other super soldiers and then she was being hit and shocked by the batons and then dragged to the room that kept the cryostasis chambers, she pleaded with the agents that she would be good, begging them not to put her in there again but they didn’t listen. Her whole body stiffened when they gave her the option - chamber or chair.

She hated the chamber.

But she hated the chair even more.

“See you in a little while little lamb.”

Fury had told them that SHIELD had discovered a new Hydra base and that they needed to go and take it down, not even an hour later they were fifteen minutes away from touching down at the location of the base.

“Cap, it looks deserted…” Natasha said as she slid her gun into her holster.

“We still need to be cautious” Steve told them. He tapped his foot against Bucky’s to gain his attention. “You okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. Seriously punk I’m fine”

“Alright. Everyone be careful.”

They moved quietly and slowly towards the base - that had seen better days - without any trouble, getting inside they all stole quick glances at Bucky making him sigh. “No I’ve never been here before”

“Didn’t say anything Barnes”

“You didn’t need too”

As they moved further inside it became obvious that they were the only ones there, apart from a few rats running around. Steve gave the orders out, him and Wanda going together down one hallway, Bucky and Sam - which he did mainly to annoy his best friend, Natasha and Tony going off to find the computers to see if they can get anything off them.

“How long do you think this place has been empty for?” Wanda asked.

“Not sure… it looks like awhile.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are they all open?” Wanda points at cryo chambers, looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know? But let’s keep looking there has to be something here for us to ta-“ Wanda cuts him off with a gasp. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a woman, she’s pretty…”

“What are you- Y/n?” Wanda’s head snapped from the woman in the chamber to the blond standing next to her.

“Do-do you know her? Wait… Y/n?”

Pressing his comms button Steve tells Bucky to come to where he was, told him to hurry up, hearing the distress tone of their captain Nat and Tony also went along too.

“Steve is this the same Y/n that Bucky calls out for in his sleep?” Wanda asked, watching him nodding slowly she looked down sadly.

The team had slowly grown use to Bucky screaming and hearing him thrash around in his sleep and had even witnessed him trashing him room trying to escape, thinking and believing he was still at the Hydra base he was kept at. One night it had actually taken all of them to try and pin him down on the ground after a horrific nightmare, it took Thor to grab Mjölnir to place it on Bucky’s naked chest to pin him down and for Wanda to use her magic to clear his mind just so they could get him to calm down. She apologised profusely for it the next day but he just smiled, placed his hand on hers gently and thanked her. But every night without fail they all heard him mumbling or crying out for Y/n and none of them wanted to overstep that boundary by asking him directly so they asked Steve who this person was and all he told them was that it wasn’t his place to say anything but that she meant the world to Bucky. And after that they let it be though they were all curious.

And now Wanda was staring up at the woman who had been on her friends mind for so long, she didn’t know how Bucky was going to react to seeing her here.

“Steve?” Bucky stood at the doorway with Sam, Natasha and Tony behind him. “What’s up?”

“Buck… she-she’s here”

“Who?”

Steve watched as Bucky paled and his eyes got shinier with tears filling them. “Y/n.”

“N-no no you’re lying Steve.” His eyes moved to Wanda when he noticed her shifting from foot to foot. He knew by the look on her face that what Steve was saying wasn’t a lie.

He moved slowly to where Wanda stood, never taking his eyes off her until he stood in front of her, it wasn’t until she gave him a sad smile that he finally looked to his right. A choked sob was the only sound in the whole building. Wanda tried to grab him before he fell but it was no use, Bucky landed with a loud thud on his knees as he looked up at the woman he had fallen madly in love with in the forties. The woman he had made a promise too. A promise he couldn’t keep.

“St-Steve we need-I need to get her out of here”

“I know Buck, I know but we need to be careful, we don’t know how long she’s been in there for”

“We can’t leave her!”

“We aren’t going to leave her Barnes, just give me a few minutes to try and figure out how we’re going to get sleeping beauty out of here, okay?” Tony says before looking around the room to find a way to get her out.

As everyone moved around the room trying to find a way to get her out of the chamber Bucky stayed on his knees looking helplessly up at her. “That’s why you couldn’t find her, she’s been here”

“I tried Buck-“

“No, I know you did. H-how long do you think she’s been here for?”

“I… I don’t know”

Not long after, Tony managed to find a way to open up the door to the chamber without causing any damage to Y/n. They all shivered as the cold air hits them, Bucky took the straps off her and took her gently into his arms. His body tensed when Tony injected something into her arm. “It’s just to keep her asleep until we get back to the tower”.

Steve told him to take Y/n onto the jet so they could finish off clearing the base, they all watched as he carried her as if she was the most delicate thing in the world.

“Steve, she’s a super solider” Nat looked over at him from the computer.

“Have you found anything else about her?”

“She’s got way more kills under her belt than I do, they call her little lamb” saying that nickname made her nose scrunch up. “And… oh Steve, they’ve been injecting her with Bucky’s sperm, it never worked” Steve’s eyes burned a hole into the computer screen angry at everything that he was hearing.

“Sh-she was a nurse you know? A great one, all the men said they loved going to her because she was just the kindest of them all. She deserved so much better than this.”

“Steve she’s been in cryo for twelve years… they wrote down when they were put in and taken out, she was never taken out twelve years ago”

“Jesus. Right, gather everything you can on Y/n and I’ll meet you on the jet”

Leaving Natasha to do what she did best he went to the jet, he stood there watching as Bucky stroke his fingers through the top of her head, not taking his eyes off her face.

“I-I’ve put blankets on her from the back, she’s still freezing Stevie.”

“Buck, there’s something I need to tell you about her.”

“What is it?”

“She’s like us, she’s got the serum too. T-they were trying to impregnate her with-with your… you know, and Nat found out that she’s been in cryo for twelve years”

“T-they don’t care do they? They don’t care who they hurt or the pain they inflict, they-they’ve hurt the sweetest, big hearted person and for what? Just to leave her in there for all those years? It’s my fault isn’t it?”

“No Buck, it’s not your fault-“

“It has to be, I kept saying her name when they first got me. I didn’t want to forget her so I kept saying her name and look what happened!”

“Bucky it’s not- don’t try and interrupt me- it’s not your fault. But we’ve found her and she’s going to come home with us and we can help her”

“Did she do bad things too?” His voice was so small and quiet that it was lucky that Steve had enhanced hearing otherwise he wouldn’t have heard what his friend said.

“Yes but Buck we know her, we know she’s a good person just like you she’s been made to do bad but we can help her, I promise you”

“We’ll all defend her tin-man” Tony says, when both men look over they see the four of them nodding in agreement.

Two weeks after finding his only love and brining her back to the compound Bucky refused to move away from her hospital bed, on the fourth day Steve had to beg him to come with him to get some food - it wasn’t until his stomach growled in hunger that he finally accepted Steve’s offer, he left her with a kiss on her forehead and made Natasha and Wanda watch over her, made them both promise to ring him the second Y/n started to stir awake.

Steve then tried to get him to leave just so he could get a good night sleep or to have a shower but the brunette shrugged him off - it wasn’t until Dr Cho came in and told him to get a shower, told him that he should be clean and smell nice for when Y/n woke up. That had him running to his room and showering quickly before running back down to her.

It was better than nothing.

“Steve?”

“Mhm”

“What’s Fury going to do when Y/n wakes up?”

“Nothing, him and Tony have already pleaded her case and all she’s got to do when she wakes is give all the information she can remember. Fury is positive that she’ll be be fully pardoned and he thinks that she could be an asset to the team, that is if she wants to stay”

“W-why-do you think she’ll want to leave?”

“I don’t know Bucky”

“Would you be mad at me if I left with her?”

“No. I would be mad though if you didn’t invite me over for dinner” Bucky let out a laugh whilst he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

Steve and Wanda had left after spending a couple of hours keeping Bucky company as he watched over Y/n, he was just starting to drift off to sleep when he felt her hand twitch.

“Y/n? Doll?” Another twitch. “Doll, come on wake up”

Bucky shot straight up knocking the chair backwards when Y/n jumped up out of the bed, falling down instantly, he watched as she pulled herself to the wall bringing her knees to her chest, her eyes moving around the room frantically. Her voice hoarse as she mumbles softly to herself, Bucky slowly moved around the bed.

“Doll? Y/n it-its me Bucky”

“Bucky?”

“Yes, yes it’s me” she says his name again, her teared filled eyes looking straight at him. “You’re safe.”

“W-where are we?”

“Somewhere safe, I promise.”

“They will be here for me” slowly standing up, ignoring the blood seeping down her arm she moved over to Bucky. “I-I need to leave, I need to go back home, they-they’ll be mad at me”

“Y/n hey, hey stop, doll look at me, they aren’t looking for you okay? You’re safe here, I’m not letting anyone hurt you again. I promise”

“You promise?”

“I promise” Bucky moved closer as soon as she was in reach he pulled her in his chest, squeezing her tightly, repeatedly pressing his lips to her hair.

Helen came in a little later to run some checks, talking to Y/n like she was an actual person and not like she was a nobody like she was use to, when she said thank you it meant more than just a simple gesture. The next day Steve, Sam and Wanda walked into the hospital room shocked to seeing Y/n sitting up and talking to Bucky, though they had slowly gotten use to seeing Bucky coming out of his shell even after all these years of knowing him Sam and Wanda stood there watching Bucky be a whole new person, the only person that didn’t find it weird was Steve who had a huge smile on his face, happy to see his best friend finally happy and at peace now that he had Y/n with him.

When Fury got word that she was awake he came down to see her, she answered all of the questions he had as best as she could. Fury reassured both her and Bucky that nothing would happen to her.

A month after waking up Y/n hand in hand with Bucky sat in a room with the team standing behind them, Fury at the end of the table and members of the government in front of them. She was nervous to hear what punishment she was going to receive, yes Fury promised that she wouldn’t be but when Bucky finally caved and told her all of the crimes she was connected to - not only did her heart break at hearing the things that she did but she feared what kind of punishment she was going to receive, she felt like she needed to be.

“Y/n L/n you are granted a full pardon, but you will need to be a part of the Avengers-“

“That’s not what we agreed on!” Fury interrupted the man.

“It’s the best thing-“

“I’ll do it. I-I need to do it” Y/n nodded.

Bucky and Steve had to beg Tony not to throw a party to celebrate Y/n’s freedom and her new role in the team of superheroes, he reluctantly agreed but told them they needed to do something as a team for her. Bucky told him a nice meal would do, it wouldn’t push her out of the comfort zone she had created for herself, so that’s what they did. Their laughter throughout the meal bounced off the walls as Y/n was retelling her memories of the antics Bucky would get up to during camp, told them how she managed to push Steve in to the river when he refused to go into the water.

In that month Bucky had been sleeping in bed with Y/n after she begged him to stay with her, and that night was no different. The team no longer heard Bucky’s screams because he no longer had nightmares.

“Y/n”

“Yeah?”

“I never stopped loving you, you know?”

“I’ve never stopped loving you either.” She smiled up at him. Slowly their lips met, both sighing at the familiar feeling that they had been deprived of feeling for nearly eighty years.

Just as Bucky closed his eyes to get some sleep he began chuckling when he heard Y/n’s question.

“Are you still going to marry me so I can put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“I made a promise didn’t I?”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama

[hoboal87]

Ever re-read your own material and forget how much you loved writing it?? To avoid spoilers there are more warnings in the tags.

This is probably one of the darkest things I've ever written (particularly part one). Please read responsibly, and if you feel like you may be triggered and/or offended, move along to the next fic 😘

Coming soon....

Pairings: Sam x Jessica, Dean x Jessica, Sam x Dean

Warnings: dub con/non-con, r*pe by deception, murder, lies, possessive!Dean, Demon!Dean, violence, Wincest

Summary: While trying to cure Dean, Sam learns just how far his brother was willing to go all those years ago.

A/N: This 2-shot takes place during episodes 1x01 and 10x03, and will utilize some dialogue from those episodes.

Part One

Part Two

[omgitskangel]

almost all of the people theorizing on how Anya’s pregnancy would go don’t know anything about pregnancy besides egg and sprem make fetus omg

*happy ending au where Anya keeps the baby* and she was in constant stress and only had mouthwash full of sugar and alcohol to drink

“uummmm some people would want to keep the baby in that situation!” we are aware… we’ve been aware “survivor keeps the baby” trope is literally everywhere and the whole “keep it! Keep it no matter what!” thing is constantly shoved down our throats irl. It would actually be refreshing to see more characters choose abortions

also the people acting like her having a miscarriage in space wouldn’t also be extremely painful, physically and emotionally…

[inkblot22]

The Infection I Don't Want

I don't have any words. Don't look at me. In all seriousness, I definitely love the savior trope. I tried to give it a cute little twist. Idia feels funny in this one too. Also sorry if the formatting is weird. I write these in Docs and then I transfer them to tumblr and for some reason in this fic's document I used Amatic SC and I have bad vision to begin with. No clue why I love torturing myself. Dividers by @/cafekitsune. This fic gets a little heavy. If you start feeling unwell, stop reading. I won't take it personal, promise.

This fic is aimed towards afab readers, but uses they/them pronouns. Mentions of periods and wombs. I may have been a bit less impersonal with this one, but the reader doesn't go on my weird love rant that I have in my self-insert Idia fic so there is that.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, DIY abortion which could also be read as miscarriage, I guess, abortion, Idia is incredibly mean in this and possibly OOC, Ortho being unintentionally creepy, parasites, sort of misogyny relating to periods, shock collars, electric shocks, captivity, implied forced marriage, implied forced medical procedures. PSA: don't try anything the reader does in this fic. It's an excellent way to get sepsis, and you don't want that, I promise.

Part 5 of the Pants on Fire series.

You don’t want to admit it, but a bit too much has changed about you. In the past few weeks, you’ve noticed plenty of things, but the largest and most blaring was that your period never came. Before when you would have it, Idia would sulk and pout, acting like you were bleeding on purpose, throwing a heating pad and a blanket and a pillow and the necessary products at you so you’d be comfortable in your distress. He kept talking about figuring out some technology to rid you of that pesky trait, and you really can’t think of anyone who likes having a period, so if he had, you wouldn’t have fought him on it, 

It’s too late for that now. For the last few days, you’ve been waking up early and vomiting. The smell of Idia’s favorite noodles makes it worse. Your poor tummy is constantly roiling, and you can hardly keep anything down. Ortho has been staring at you incessantly. You think he’s being annoying, really, and Idia’s been getting on your last nerves as well. 

Today, you woke up, vomited, and just sat in the bathroom for a moment, coming to terms with the fact that you could very well be pregnant. You feel conflicted. On one hand, you don’t want to talk or think about this. You’re stressed enough as it is. On the other hand, you absolutely don’t want this. You don’t want this creature in your stomach. You know it's there. You can’t feel it, but how often can you feel something before everything goes absolutely wrong? You can’t. 

But it’s unimportant. A knock comes at the door and you scramble to your feet, flushing the toilet and rinsing out your mouth before opening the door. It’s Idia. He gives you a look and starts stripping, turning on the shower and handing you a hair tie.

“You look sick.  What’s wrong with you?”

“O-oh, I… I don’t know. I feel fine.” You’re not sure how to tell him, so you lie. Maybe you won’t have to tell him. You pull his hair into a bun and he hops into the shower. 

You stand there for a moment and he peeks his head around the door at you, “What are you doing? You want to join me?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Just thinking.”

“Go see if Ortho can get you some aspirin or something so you can start acting normal again.” He mutters.

You leave. It’s fine. Idia’s dorm room is always cold. He keeps it like that on purpose. If you’re cold and he doesn’t provide much more than these stupid skimpy pajama sets that are cute but are also thin, so you’re more likely to cuddle up to him or wear his hoodies. At least he has good taste in that.

You don’t really feel like undertaking the task of looking through his closet, so you take a seat in Idia’s gaming chair, which is still warm from him sitting in it, and sigh, laying a hand over your belly. He said that Ortho was here, but he must be out getting breakfast, since you didn’t immediately hear his high voice  shrilling in your ears, “Good morning!”

You like Ortho just fine. He’s not your ally, but being around him is better than being around Idia. You wished he’d been gone for longer. You sigh and your head begins to hurt, “Hi, Ortho.”

He giggles a little and puts down the takeout bag, smiling as he turns back to face you. And then he just stares, chartruse eyes boring into you.

“Ortho, is there a problem?” You can’t hold your tongue about this any longer. You have a headache and honestly you just want to take a fat nap and let the world, small as it has become for you, deal with itself.

Before he can respond, Idia strolls out of the bathroom, lazily greeting Ortho, “Hey, Ortho.”

“Hello!” His voice is just so grating. You want to throw something.

“Mmm.” Idia glances at you, walking over and nudging your shoulder with the back of his hand, like he’s shooing an animal, “Go lay down.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you ask Ortho for-”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” You snarl, turning to look at him.

He stiffens ever so slightly, then hunches down and digs through the takeout bag Ortho brought in, “Are you acting like this because you’re on your period?”

“Did you really just ask me-”

This time, it’s Ortho, not Idia, who interrupts you, “Oh, they won’t be having a period for a while.”

Idia freezes. You freeze. Ortho goes back to what he was doing, humming as he makes the bed. Idia turns to narrow his eyes at you, his eyes sliding down to look at your midsection and feet, and his eyes roll back into his head and he’s hitting the ground. Maybe if you cared more about him, you’d check to make sure that he was fine, but as it is now, you don’t really have the energy or wherewithal to do so. You rush into the bathroom and cower near the toilet, like there’s a tornado or something outside. You’re distressed.

He doesn’t know it, but Ortho just vocalized the actualization of all your fears, the culmination of your meager existent, all rolled up into this… this parasite in your stomach. You swallow your incoming hysteria and make a decision. You’re going to get up. You’re going to get a change of clothes. You’re going to take a shower. And you’ll be fine. You’ll figure this out. You always have before. You’ll do it again.

When you exit the bathroom, Ortho is blowing air into Idia’s pallid face, and Idia is groaning. You ignore the pair and go to the closet. You grab a change of clothes, the rabbit-themed set of pajamas, you walk into the bathroom, you turn on the water. About as soon as the stream hits your back, you’re screaming. Sobs break from your chest like a hammer going into ice, smashing its way out despite every effort you make to keep it together. You’ve barely got the peace of mind to quickly wash yourself, and when you exit- the water is cold, too cold for comfort- you dry. You feel twitchy, after crying so hard. You tug on the spaghetti strap shirt, the bunny face stretching against your skin, and then you’re staring at the hanger.

You remember reading something, a long, long time ago. You were far too young to be reading this type of thing, the gorier parts of feminism and women’s rights, but… you remember a passage. The wire twists apart easily as you remember the story. A woman, desperate to be rid of the parasitic growth in her womb, just as desperate as you are now, used a wire coat hanger to remove it. It’s been so long that you can’t remember how it ended for her, but you remember the rest very clearly. The bent end, no longer crooked after you bent it, slips into your opening so easily. You can barely feel it. then the door opens, you freeze,  and you hear Ortho scream.

“Idia!” He yells, and there are footsteps and a moment of silence.

You look up at Idia’s honey-colored eyes that are glued to the wire hanger sticking out of your body, see the way both of the Shroud boys are looking at your current unfinished action, see the slow spread of crimson into Idia’s long hair, starting at the tips and spreading like, well, like fire, to the roots. There’s that familiar three-tap warning, and then you drop the hanger, clutching at the collar as the strongest shock you’ve ever felt hits you like a truck. It’s worse than the time you didn’t want to hang out with him, worse than the times you’d stray too close to the door. It forces you to your knees, sets your body into convulsions that shake the twisted hanger out of you, makes you foam at the mouth.

Somewhere under your anguish, you think you hear Ortho robotically say, “BPM reaching critical levels.”

The current stops and your body stops convulsing, relaxing so hard that your world, small as it has become, goes black. When you awake, you’re reliving a distant memory: you’re bound, hands and ankles, on the bed. You’re dressed again, one of Idia’s hoodies draped over you like a blanket, and Idia is just staring at you, holding your collar. He looks pissed, but his hair isn’t red, at least. He’s noticed you’re awake, but he’s not saying anything. He turns slightly in his gaming chair and throws the strap of leather on his desk, the wiring fried. There are holes burnt into the leather, and Idia stares at it blankly before he starts typing away on his tablet, his own voice coming through the device.

It sounds about as burnt out as the shock collar looks, “I bet you feel pretty bad, huh?”

You don’t dignify that with a response. It doesn’t matter to him, since his fingers fly as he keeps typing away.

“You’re a fucking moron. Only someone stupid would try to-” He doesn’t finish the sentence and hits the desk, standing up and pacing. You can’t see him, but you can hear him panting. 

You try to de-escalate, sort of. The shock collar isn’t around your neck anymore, but you really don’t need him to work himself up again, “The word is ‘desperate.’ I don’t want… I don’t want this. This thing growing inside of me, I don’t-”

“You’re not the only one with a parasite.” His voice is quiet but seething. It breathily cuts through the air like a knife, aiming for your soft parts, “You just have the privilege of being able to get rid of yours comfortably.”

“Really? So you putting this thing in me isn’t as bad as I think it is?”

He paces back into view and you notice something missing. Someone missing. You lift your head a bit to look around and Idia takes a heavy seat at his desk again. This state is rare. It takes him a while to relax when he gets like this, but you’ve only seen it aimed at others, like that time his account got temporarily banned because one of his party members was hacking. At least that had an easy solution for him- you’ve never seen him grin as much as when he had the poor guy swatted and watched through the CCTV cameras around the poor fool's house.

“We’re going home. I’ll fix your little problem twofold, since I’m the only competent one between the two of us.” He types out, his recorded voice not lagging once.

“What? And what do you mean you have a parasite?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you think you see him wipe his cheek with his sleeve, typing with only one hand, “Ortho is gonna come back with some burn cream. I lost my temper and you got hurt. Not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t deserve any of this. I asked you if you had a condom.”

He doesn’t respond to that statement, instead typing, “I don’t love you. You know that, right? Love is for the idealistic masses, those who aren’t capable of keeping their feet on the ground. You’re just someone who has taken up a space in my mind. So the solution to yours won’t be permanent. Seven knows my parents will be getting on my case about providing them an heir eventually.”

“So I’m just here for eventual marriage security?”

Idia doesn’t respond. Ortho strolls in, placing a tube on Idia’s desk and goes out of your line of sight, seemingly to tidy or something. You don’t really care. He’s not your ally. He’s never been.

Idia sighs, then goes back to working on something on his desk. You don’t know how much time passes, but he loops it around your throat and unties you. It’s sitting a bit lower on your neck, just against your collarbones. There’s a three-tap warning, but no shock afterward. Just the flat look on Idia’s face.

“I should start calling you ‘baby’, kitten. It’d be so much easier for you to understand your position.”

“That’s not funny.” You say, “I never asked you to bring me here.”

Idia shrugs, “Well, I don’t think of you as a pet. With the way you act, you might as well be a pest.” He grins, sharp teeth on display, “Maybe I should put out some glue traps… or start dosing you with raw garlic and ivermectin.” 

He starts laughing, and you feel your eyes well with tears. You tell yourself it's the pregnancy hormones. Idia laughs harder at your expression.

“Aw, kitten, I’m just teasing. Come sit with me.”

“But I-” That three-tap warning from your new collar cuts you off. You stand up and start walking the two steps between the bed and Idia’s desk. When you reach your hands towards the collar, it zaps you. It’s quick and not too painful, but it gets you moving towards Idia. When you take a seat on his lap, he leans to bury his nose in your hair, a thrilled noise escaping him. He drops the burn cream in your lap.

He just watches you as you unscrew the lid and reach for your neck. There’s a three-tap warning again- bzz bzz bzz- but you ignore it. The second your fingers barely graze your throat with the cream, you get zapped, short and swift, but uncomfortable enough. You drop your hand and it goes away. When you look up at Idia, he takes the cream from your other hand and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, using his free hand to click into one of his many tabs for some anime streaming site.

“Good. It works.” Is all he says.

As he dabs the cream onto the electrical burns on your neck, you have to blink away the despair again. It’s settled over you like a blanket, eaten holey by moths and worms. Every move you make is accompanied by tentative fear, a worry that Idia will do something awful if you do certain things. You never once considered it would go this far, though. Ortho drops something onto Idia’s bed, a hefty-looking luggage set, and Idia pays him no mind as he tucks away some clothes. You don’t want to admit it, but you don’t want to be around any more people under Idia’s thumb, whether they know it or not.

[compassionatereminders]

Oh, I didn't know about the force abortion, that's horrible. It gives a new perspective to that music box/lullaby melody. She really went all out with this song and no one even knew.

Yeah literally nobody knew about it before she released her memoir "The Woman In Me" in 2023. And that isn't the only reproductive trauma she has been through, unfortunately. There was the threat of losing access to her existing two children that made her stop fighting the abusive conservatorship in the first place, and then during that 13 year conservatorship, she was forced to be on birth control despite wanting more children because she didn't have the right to make that decision herself. And then after she finally escaped, she actually got pregnant but then had a miscarriage

[heirbane]

i am in a love/hate relationship with gaius after the sorrow of werlyt, in his ship with alta. because they do get pregnant. because he has buried four of his children and is being forced into fathering another from the moment they take their first breath.

gaius has only ever known three babes in his life. He had known of Cid, as Midas' marriage began to unravel, their son but a stream of piss on a pyre. He had known Varis' firstborn, the daughter that never woke. and he had known Zenos, the son that killed his own mother.

he had known of them. he had not raised them, despite his closeness to both midas (as his young side piece as his marriage dissolved) and varis, both men had done what rich garleans were wont to do: they entrusted their sons to wetnurses and tutors. even then, gaius had been but a fun, occasional visitor, the uncle that taught zenos how to wield a gun, the elder brother figure that cid's parents often squabbled over.

and then the woman he swore to kill brought life to him, and in his fear - in his anxious, traumatized, horrifically regretful wisdom - he tried to shun them, too.

he had been there for his children, and they had all perished. at least, he thought, cid and zenos had lived - and they had lived because he was not involved at all. because he had not touched them. because he had not wrapped them up in his arms and promised them succor.

or so he believed.

gaius danced around holding his firstborn for days. he had excuses. he had ways out. he had dread, because he had tried to win against the warrior of light before and failed, and she was not someone who would simply allow him this weakness.

at the end of it all, it wasn't even alta that forced his hand: it was allie, his one remaining daughter, the last one who remembered what it was like to have a home and an education and a family name but not a father.

[fighterpilotdragon02]

Spoilers for Midnight Mass (2021)

Right, so I'm super tired and I'll probably add on to this later but here's something I thought of that I haven't heard anyone else talk about.

TW: (Forced) miscarriage, abortion, implications of forced sterilization, religious abuse

A disclaimer before I write anything: I grew up fundamentalist/evangelical Protestant Christian (actually I grew up in a cult but that's another story). I am a queer agnostic and I DO NOT AGREE with the pro-life movement and honestly most stuff major churches do. This is just my observation in the framework of the faith.

It is so telling that the being which Monsignor Pruitt called an angel and promoted to his church causes a miscarriage. Most Christianity I've been exposed to is against abortion (some is even against birth control) and at least pays lip service to celebrating life. So when Pruitt betrays the trust of his congregation and alters their bodies without consent, when Erin's baby disappeared, that should have been a glowing neon sign for him and Bev that Shit Was Not Right.

I don't recall any indication that people aside from Erin, Riley, and Dr. Gunning knew about the lost baby, but my point is this:

The "angel" and Pruitt's dishonesty ("Forgive me, Father, for I am going to sin") are both perversions of what Christianity is theoretically about. Christianity, as I learned it, is about love and community and celebrating life as a gift from God. The angel directly forced a miscarriage upon an unknowing and unconsenting Erin (and how interesting, that pregnancy would be impossible under these conditions, that the population would eventually die out no matter the outcome of the show). Pruitt, while likely unaware of this outcome, was a direct arbitrator of this. His twisted love and fear, his obsession with staying young--something which is directly addressed as happening in the good afterlife (as I learned it)--took everything from him and his innocent congregation.

Anyway, feel free to add any insight; I'll probably reblog this with non-midnight (hah!) additions later. Let me know, also, if there are any tw tags I should add.

[teethburger]

UEGH so I’m trying to write something for school about being pro choice and the situation in America and I literally hate researching this so much. not because it doesn’t interest me, but because every time i read about it it makes me feel so *gross* and squirmy and EUGHHDEUGHUGHH

[ask-the-celestial-family]

You are a gay man named Zenith. You have a loving husband, sons, brothers, and a grandchild who are desperately searching for you. You are not a woman, no matter what they manage to convince you of.

I’m going to magically play this message in your head every time they misgender you. So, even if you do get used to being misgendered, you won’t forget who you are, and who really loves you.

Come on, bitch, make me food. You know Elaine and I can just hurt you again if you don't. Maybe hurt this thing. *puts his hand over Zenith's stomach* -Dave

Don't... -Zenith🌩��

Then behave for me, huh? Make me dinner and maybe we'll let you keep it. -Dave

She said you wouldn't... -Zenith🌩️

She's pro-life. I don't care. I will kill that thing if you keep misbehaving. -Dave

[positivelybeastly]

Lugent: weeping; mourning [LET HER COMFORT HANK]

They’re together.

Hank doesn’t stop touching her, doesn’t stop hugging her, doesn’t stop just - grabbing her and making sure that she’s real all over again. He’s had it happen before. Hope snatched away in the cruelest of punchlines, friends he’d thought found lost again, new lows unearthed beneath older, traumatising ones. He has to make sure this one is real.

He keeps looking at her like she’s the sun. She can’t bear it.

He’s a good man. She feels this in her soul. Others would disagree, of course - they’ll call him an idiot, a fool, a traitor to his race, an apologist, an overbearing genius with more intellect than sense - but Abigail Brand has never lived her life thinking what other people have thought. Convention escapes her. She cares what she thinks, and she thinks that he’s a good man. Some days, when he’s been particularly brilliant or loving, she even knows it.

Which is why it hurts so much to feel that emptiness and cold in her, and see that fullness and warmth in him.

Good people, they can’t take it. Good people exist in their little sphere where they think that everyone else has some fundamental goodness in them that if only they’d reach it, the world would all just sit down and love each other. Abigail knows that’s not how it works, but she lets Hank believe it because if he believes it, maybe for a moment, she too can entertain the thought. But eventually, it escapes her, and she’s left with the fact that the world is so unkind and cruel in thoughtless ways. That defeat can be snatched from the jaws of victory if you look too closely at the details.

If she tells him, the warmth and fullness will drain from him. He’ll be empty inside, like her. This will be the final straw.

She knows she’s not good. She knows she never has been. Her mother had taught her that. Her superiors had taught her that. Life had taught her that. She’s kept herself sane mostly by reminding herself that while she certainly isn’t good, maybe it’s enough that she’s not bad, either. Not all the way through. Not truly. Not in the ways that matter. She believes in freedom, and life, and liberty, and all that hippie libertine bullshit Hank waxes philosophical about when he’s feeling fresh.

If she tells him, that will be the final proof. That will be the end of it. That will be the end of them.

She’s no professor, but she knows chemistry. She knows that you put certain things together, you get other things - the how’s, the why’s, the exactly how muchs, they don’t really matter to her, but the what, that does. That’s what they’ve always had, is chemistry. Angry. Explosive. Confused. Thrashing. Animalistic. It became something more, of course, but as Hank would tell you, all everything is, is just chemistry. When you boil it all down to chemistry, the reactants mix, the reaction happens, and you’re left with energy and your products.

She’s fought for so long to keep that reaction going. She doesn’t want them to end.

He makes her feel so good. On particularly wonderful days, he even makes her feel like she might be good, too. There’s a warmth and a softness and a delicateness to him that turns to heat and hardness and animal passion when ignited, and it’s only for her. It’s her special thing. Only she gets to enjoy it. Only she sees him in his every way, his every manifestation, his every weakness and strength and foible and kink. She really, really doesn’t want it to end. Not the nakedness, not the tenderness, not the morning coffees and the smiles and the thoughts of a future. None of it.

She died. Something cosmic. Something divine. Something cruel. Of course it was.

But there’s so much more that they could do together! S.W.O.R.D is work, sure, but it’s also play for them both - scientific majesty for him, action and duty and pleasure for her. They were both born for this kind of life, for on the fly decision making, for ridiculous improvisation, for fighting, for saving, for all of it. They could do this together forever. She leans back in her chair and she really does think that this is the best job in the universe.

She died pregnant.

She had to go to someone other than her usual doctor, of course. When she first began to suspect. It wasn’t something they’d ever considered being a possibility, given the alien DNA in play and Hank’s embarrassed mumbles about what his genetic code looked like. They’d - talked, about IVF, various other treatments, regimens, experimental techniques, but never seriously. Never seriously. Never with a thought that it could just happen. They’d been very stupid about that, she supposed, in retrospect. Like a bunch of dumb, lovestruck teenagers who thought you couldn’t get pregnant the first time or in a pool or stupid shit like that.

She came back.

She’d picked Richards, in the end. They had worked together. She respected his intelligence, knew he had children who didn’t hate him. He had been a little baffled, a little cold. Then he’d realised. Hank was a friend, and he was happy for him. Happy for them both. Happy for Abigail, and not just for her, but as a surrogate for her, because she hadn’t allowed herself to be happy about it, had just scowled or sat there with an implacable expression on her face. How inconvenient. How typical. This was going to get in the way of work.

She came back not pregnant.

As time went on, it became more apparent. It was quickly going to become harder to hide. Harder to justify going out on missions. Harder to justify not telling Hank. Harder to justify not telling the father of her child that the impossible had happened. That the inconvenient had happened. That something unexpected, and that something she had never thought she really wanted until it was right there in front of her, had happened.

It wasn’t David’s fault. He didn’t know. How could he have known? The power of a god has its limits. She doesn’t blame him.

She doesn’t do inarticulate screaming. She takes weeks of leave and no-one sees her, is what she does. Sydren is baffled. She doesn’t take leave. No-one, not even Hank, can convince her to take leave. She has so much of it accrued that she could be gone for a year and still be owed time. She gave so much of her life to work and duty and being a good defender of the Earth that when it came time to mourn how little of her life she could spend loving, she had plenty of it. Nothing but time. Nothing but time to contemplate the nothing she’s dying over. There’s nothing to bury. Just an idea. Just thoughts. Just a lifetime.

All right, that’s a fucking lie, she blames him and would kill him if she could. How fucking dare he. She thinks she might rather be dead still than deal with this.

“Hank, I have to tell you something.”

She savours these last few moments of warmth. She savours Hank McCoy as she’s known him.

Because it kills him.

The colour drains from his face.

The light fades out of his eyes.

The strength in his grip on her loosens.

The faith dies.

They don’t break up. Why would they? They still love each other. But to look at each other is to be reminded. To look at each other is to find that what each loved about the other has died. Hank’s warmth. Abigail’s certainty. The cold seeps in. They touch, but. They fuck, but. They hold each other, but.

They’re apart.

*~*

There's a chance meeting, between Hank and an old friend. A best friend, really - it's not as if he has many of those left by this point in his life, after the choices he's made. He's left the X-Men, left the Avengers, left his research behind. He's a soft, quiet little man living in Harvard, now. He likes it. Tess, privately, probably thinks it's a little beneath him, knows he can do better, but there's a brittle quality to him now that doesn't feel like it would stand up to pressure.

It takes a long time to get him to open up about what happened. Oh, the intervention, the Illuminati, the Inhuman conflict, whatever, that's all - that's all macro level shit, that can wait. She can tell there's something wrong in there, in his heart, but Hank is soft, and she doesn't like to think about hurting him. Not really.

It takes months to get him to tell her, and he doesn't really sound like Hank when he does. He talks about it like it happened to someone else - maybe he feels like it did, because it's not like there's anyone who he can talk to about this. Who can empathise? Who would care to? A life not lived, well, that happens all the time, Hank, but this isn't that. Not to him.

She hugs him. Gently. Again, she - really does feel like he's so much weaker now than he was, like a little too much pressure and he'll snap. He laughs and he jokes, but it's not the same. Everyone on campus keeps signing up for his classes, hoping they'll get Hank McCoy, but they just get Professor McCoy. Quietly funny, quietly good at teaching, quietly insightful. Just. Quiet.

He just.

Doesn't feel like there's much to talk about now.

Doesn't feel like he has much to offer anyone anymore. Maybe someone will come along and give him a purpose again. He'd like that.

*~*

“Yes, I said I won’t just join Krakoa … but a seat could convince me. You know who I am and what I can do. You’re working on a galactic scale now. This is a game I’ve been playing all my life. You play my way, you can actually win.”

Abigail Brand.

“I’ve been heading X-Force and doing the work the council needed done. You’ve lost Magneto. Magneto. You don’t need a soft hand. You need someone with that precision and intellect. And bonus, bountiful, blue fur. Now, in this powerpoint, I will …”

Dr. Hank McCoy, A.K.A. Beast.

“Hank used to be fun. Remember that? Before all the black ops. Before he dated Brand. I can barely tell him and her apart. I can’t help but think if we selected either, the one we didn’t pick would assassinate the other. Was that a bad breakup? Does anyone know?”

Kate Pryde, the Red Queen.

“They’re both completely unethical. I don’t trust either of them on the Council.”

Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler.

*~*

They’re together again, for a moment.

She waits for him outside the meeting chamber.

He’s so cold now. A shell. The light has faded so completely from his eyes that one has been plucked out of its socket and even though it would be simplicity itself for him to replace it, to resurrect himself whole again, he chooses not to. He doesn’t care. What does it matter? There is only the mission now.

“Hank.”

“Abigail.”

They touch.

We could -

We could try again. It’s not too late. It’s never too late.

Sinister knows, somehow. Of course he does. He sent them both the same package, the same cruel joke. Would it delight him to know that neither of them so much as reacted to it? Or would it merely make him petulant? He thought it was funny. He thought it was the height of sadism. An oldie, but a goodie.

Neither of them so much as blinked when they saw the punchline.

What else was it going to be?

Baby shoes.

Never worn.

[haunted-armour-shell]

I don't know if anyone else agrees with me, but I firmly believe that APH Belarus has reproductive trauma. Maybe she miscarried, maybe she had a stillbirth, maybe she was forced into an unwanted pregnancy. Whatever it was, it was related to her being pregnant and she is Never getting pregnant again.

One another vein, my Australia also has reproductive trauma. She was sterilised by Carer's so she could never have illegitimate children with her "convict genes" that could be a possible heir to the British Empire.

And for other F!Australia's, I reckon it was her government. Australia is almost universally portrayed as blak in fanon, and the government in the 19th & 20th would have definitely not wanted her producing nation babies with blak genes.

Basically, this is a really long post to say: If Romausbel (romano/australia/Belarus who are dating in my universe) ever decide to have children, Romano's the one carrying it.

[bumblesimagines]

Burning Love

Request: Yes or No

Summary: As the eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has many responsibilities; most of which his darling sister hopes to share with him one day.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Targcest/Incest (Full-blooded Brother-Sister), Aemma lives!! and Alicent is not a childbride, mentions of stillbirths and miscarriages (Aemma's pregnancies)

Collecting HOTD oneshots like pokemon cards at this point

~~~

It was known that Targaryens had... questionable traditions. Traditions those with outsider perspective could only force themself to understand.

There was the act of putting a dragon egg in the cradle of a babe and hoping the egg would hatch sometime soon after to ensure the babe was bonded to a loyal protector they'd grow up alongside of; a tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen, eldest daughter of King Aenys I and Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Targaryens were Dragonriders, bonded with the very beasts they used to conquer the lands and pull them all into one kingdom (with the exception of Dorne, of course). They cremated their dead, a custom from Old Valyria, often with the help of a dragon belonging to their closest kin. 

And of course, the most infamous and often looked down upon custom, wedding kin to kin. Another custom from Old Valyria that many followers of the Seven turned their cheek upon, for they found the act of wedding siblings to siblings and so forth (apart from cousin to cousin) a sin. Faithful followers could voice their complaints as much as they wished, but Targaryens were kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Nobody could or would stop them from keeping their bloodline pure if they so wished. 

Descending from a long, historic, and proud family, Rhaenyra grew up listening and learning the tales of those who'd come before her. Aegon the Conquer and his faithful sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; the many rebellions and fighting brought on during the lives of King Aenys I and King Maegor the Cruel; The Old King Jaehaerys who'd chosen her father, Viserys, as heir over his own late heir's daughter, Rhaenys; and of course, the histories written during the early stages of her father's reign. 

Her beloved older brother had been two when King Jaehaerys named their father heir and three when their father ascended the throne whilst their beautiful mother, Aemma Arryn, carried her in the womb. The fourth person to ever hold little Rhaenyra in their arms had been her brother, closely supervised by their parents and the maester attending the birth, of course. With a healthy son and daughter, Viserys and Aemma hardly needed for more children, but they tried anyway. Their attempts never carried to term, however, and any little ones that did were either stillborn or died mere hours or days after birth. 

Still, Rhaenyra never needed for any more siblings. Her brother was enough, in her humble opinion. He cared for her diligently, especially during their younger years when he eagerly wished to play with her, even if it meant the two of them being gently scolded at the end of the day for dirting Rhaenyra's dresses with mud and dirt. (Y/N) treated her as his equal, even showing her how to use a wooden sword when he began his training and helping prepare her for dragon-riding on Syrax. His own mount hardly needed much training in the Dragonpit, for the mighty Vermithor's first rider had been the Old King.

As time passed, the siblings were forced apart more often than Rhaenyra enjoyed. She'd made up her mind long ago that she and (Y/N) would one day be wed, and she'd be his formidable sister-wife. Their parents merely chuckled about it when she'd first told them at the age of seven, her squeaky voice and flushed cheeks only drawing cooing from Aemma and sweet smiles from Viserys. The absence of her brother had been stark, his time taken up by training, studying, and spending time with the Small Council, but Alicent Hightower had quickly taken his spot as Rhaenyra's companion. 

However, in due time, (Y/N) became man-grown, and while Rhaenyra quickly followed with her flowering, as heir and prince, (Y/N) became the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. It took time for it to become apparent to Rhaenyra but her eyes and ears opened when she heard their parents speaking of it. Many families, highborn and lowborn, offered their daughters through letters or visits to Kings Landing. Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Brackens, Blackwoods, Tullys, and plenty more came forth. Even Otto Hightower made a passing comment about wedding Alicent to him. It was infuriating.

"In truth, I do not understand your irritation, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke gently, her slender fingers working on embroidery. A flower she'd seen in the gardens, or something along those lines. Rhaenyra hadn't truly been paying attention to her dear friend. She'd been too focused on silently fuming at the sight of her brother showing one of the highborn ladies around the Red Keep. Every giggle, every blush, every bat of her eyelashes made Rhaenyra tick. "It's wonderful to watch one's brother fall in love."

"You wouldn't understand, Alicent." Rhaenyra sighed. "It is like the love King Jaeherys and the Good Queen Alysanne had."

Alicent faltered at her words, her head lifting to eye her friend with a small grimace. "You do remember our lessons, correct? King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had to wed in secret, for they knew that not even their mother approved in fear of another uprising from the Faith. Nobody has made a fuss over your parents since they are cousins, but who knows what may happen if you wed (Y/N)."

"(Y/N) is everything King Jaehaerys was, Alicent. He is beloved by the Realm." Rhaenyra reminded her friend with a small smile, pushing herself off the cushioned seats and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. Her earrings swung slightly when she tilted her head slightly to the side, the ends of them brushing against her shoulders. Her eyes tracked (Y/N) as he lifted the lady's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before departing. "He will be a good king, and if I could prove it, I would be a good queen. His queen." Her feet began moving automatically. 

"Rhaenyra," The name tumbled out of Alicent's mouth, her hands fumbling with the items in hand. "Where are you going?"

Bunching up the skirt of her dress in her hands, Rhaenyra grinned over her shoulder and chuckled at the concerned look on Alicent's features that only grew at the sight of her mischievous glint. "To speak with my brother!" 

With a goal in mind, Rhaenyra entered the castle and followed the distant figure of her brother as he cut down hallways with long strides until he reached his bedchambers. Rhaenyra took a moment to herself to catch her breath and rake her fingers through her long silver locks before she approached the doors and nodded for the guards to open them. She stepped inside, a smile appearing across her lips when (Y/N) turned to look at her. 

"My favorite sister," (Y/N) cooed, taking a seat at his desk and unrolling a letter. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in return, clasping her hands together behind her back and taking small steps toward him. He skimmed the contents of the letter, his face giving away nothing of what it spoke of. "Is there something you require, Nyra, or are you suffering from boredom? I have plenty of lords and ladies who'd be happy to keep you busy." 

Rhaenyra scoffed quietly and (Y/N) gave a small grin. "I hear Father is urging you to find a wife."

"The Small Council is urging him to urge me, more like. They believe it is time to begin having children. Seeing as Father and Mother had great difficulty, they wish for me to have an heir by the time I ascend the throne to ensure there won't be issues later on." (Y/N) explained, coiling the letter back up and pulling out a blank paper. He dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Otto has been... more friendly as of recently. He speaks incredibly highly of Lady Alicent." 

"You'd tell me if you were interested in someone, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra reached over the desk to pluck the quill from his fingers, setting it aside and raising her brows at him. (Y/N) slumped back in his seat and laced his fingers over his midsection, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rhaenyra rounded the table and without thinking twice, she plopped down on his thigh. 

"Nyra,"

"You know as well as I do who you should wed, (Y/N). I know what a good queen should be, and I do not care about status or riches like the families of those ladies do. We have the blood of the dragon in our veins. Nobody would truly understand us." Rhaenyra spoke softly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out as she placed her palm over his cheek. His own hands unlaced, one moving to press against her back. 

"The Small Council-"

"Fuck the Small Council." Rhaenyra huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from her brother. "You are the prince, the heir. Whatever it is you choose, they must deal with it. It is their job to counsel, to offer their advice and opinions, not to dictate what you do. We could mount Syrax and Vermithor and fly elsewhere to wed in the customs of Old Valyria." 

A gentle sigh escaped (Y/N), and he leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's shoulder. The princess relaxed at the action, her hand moving past his cheek to the back of his head. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. "You are insufferable." He told her with a gentle laugh before leaning in to press their mouths together. He drew back too quickly for Rhaenyra's liking. "But a good ruler is a patient one, Nyra. If you wish for us to wed, or to lay together-" He brushed their lips together teasingly. "-you must wait. Father and Mother will be easy to convince." 

"Does it matter if we wait?" Rhaenyra tilted her head and batted her lashes coyly, the feigned innocence prompting (Y/N) to roll his eyes. She rose from his lap and dropped her hands to his, tugging on them until he stood up from the chair. She smiled widely, devilishly even, and slung her arms around his shoulders. "We will be wed, regardless. It will not matter." 

"I have things I must do, Nyra." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on her waist. "As I said, you must be patient. If you wish to speed things along, you should speak with Mother. She'll always be the key to winning Father over." He told her and planted a kiss on her temple before settling back down on the chair. 

"Will we be like that someday?" Rhaenyra asked softly, stepping out of the way so he could resume his letter. She toyed with the rings along her fingers, the thought of becoming one of those couples who genuinely cared for each other bringing a smile to herself. It was a desire all ladies had. While sons could marry whichever woman of age they desired, ladies had to hope the husbands their fathers or elder brothers chose were good men. She'd seen far too many times the faces of girls her age married and chained to men old enough to be their grandfathers. 

(Y/N) paused his writing and lifted his head to look at her, offering a reassuring smile. "Someday." He nodded. 

"I look forward to it, then."

[exactlyyoungchaos]

Loss of my Life.

Husband Simon X Reader.

My first time writing here!!! Please don't mind the mistakes as I'm writing this at 5 in the morning. enjoy!!!

TW: loss of a relationship, hurt, angst, little comfort, cursing, trauma(loss of family, mention of miscarriage), "its not you, its me bullshit" let me know if i missed something!

You used be a medic working with TF141 for years before you retired. that's how you met your now husband Simon Riley. he was the most loving, attentive and responsible partner you could've asked for, he was ghost to everyone but not you, never you. But something's changed recently.

ever since his last mission eight months ago, he's been detached, not talking to you properly, coming home extremely late and drunk. he hasn't even touched you since he came back and its saying something for a guy who used to be attached to your hips whenever he could.

you tried talking to him, tried asking what's wrong but you always got the same answer, " you're thinkin too much lovie, nothings wrong."

but you know your husband so you start digging, and that's the biggest mistake you have made.

you found a note in his vest pocket, where he keeps his wedding ring during missions that read " be safe and come back to me" in a handwriting you knew by heart but it wasn't yours.

it was of his childhood best friend. she was in the special forces as well, and recently worked with Simon's team on the last mission.

you knew then and there, the reason of the detachment, the curt responses. your husband was in love with the woman he told you not to worry about.

your eyes blur with the realization that the life you once knew is soon going to come to an end, the man you're in love with , who's ring you have been wearing for years is not yours anymore or maybe he never was.

you sat there in your closet, tears streaming down your face, gut wrenching sobs coming out of you mouth. he isn't home, like usual so there is no one to witness the loss of your life.

your brain conjure up all the good times you had with him but now all of it is tainted by the realization that none of it was true.

you remember every time you caught both of them looking at each other, the friendly adoration in Simon's eyes now looked like longing, with his hands still around your waist.

every time he said to you "you're the love of my life" with his lips on yours, was he wishing it was her? all these years, you were so in love, so blinded by the rose tinted glasses you had over your eyes that you never saw it?

you sat there for hours, mulling over your whole life. how the one person you thought was yours forever was never yours. so you got up, eyes hollow, bloodshot and puffy, your form trembling. you put the note back where it was and go lay on your bed.

you stare at the wall for hours, around three am, your front door opened and closed. you felt him as he walked in the bedroom and slipped under the sheets next to you.

for the first time in weeks, he put his arms around your waist and pulled you towards himself, " you awake love?" he murmured in your neck.

all that came out of your mouth was, " Am I not enough?" in a rough whisper.

his arms tense around you, he knows that you know. before he could say something, you turn to face him, still in his arms.

you look at his face, and trace his scars with your fingers as tears fell from your eyes on your pillow.

his expression is tortured, " Its not what you-" but you cut him off with a soft shush and a finger on his lips. the lips you called home for as long as you remember.

you don't want him to lie to you anymore so you smile, the same smile Simon has witnessed when you lost your whole family in an accident as he stood next to your shaking form during the funeral, the same smile you gave him when you had a miscarriage as he stood next to you on the hospital bed holding your hand, grieving with you.

his heart was breaking, he was cursing himself for doing this to you. but you don't blame him, you haven't said anything to him except "will you hold me for the last time? please?" and you bury your face in his chest, taking in his scent for the last time. feeling his erratic heartbeat for the last time.

Simon's hand tightened around you, he doesn't want to let you go. the only good thing that happened to him. he destroyed you, like he always does to anything he touches.

he knows he cant fix this, nothing he could say would fix this. so he held you, with all his might, for the last time.

part 2?

[girlrotterr]

Ultraviolence pt.2

farm!ellie x fem!reader TW!: references to alcohol and substance abuse, along with instances of emotional and verbal abuse. as well as mentions of miscarriage. a/n: pt 2 for you angels!! lmk what you angels think & if you'd like a pt 3!!

read part 1! read part 3!

As the moon began to set, making way for the rising sun, the room was bathed in morning sunlight. While you still slept, the sun cast its gentle glow upon you, illuminating you among the blossoming morning.

The sunlight kissed your skin and hair, as if your very being radiated the warmth of the sun itself. The soft morning light painted the room with a sense of home. 

Your child stirred in his sleep, wrapped in his blanket with his teddy bear in hand. The sunlight caressed his face as he shifted, illuminating him.

The entire room had a calming and comforting feeling, it was the most peaceful it had ever been.

It was a picture-perfect morning. 

Ellie's breath tickled your neck, a subtle reminder that she was still there, lying behind you.

Your eyes widened in disbelief.

No…fucking…way.

Your body stiffened as a rush of disbelief washed over you. Ellie, sleeping right behind you—it felt surreal, impossible!  Your mind raced with countless thoughts, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no comfort in this moment, only pure confusion.

How could this be happening?! How could she be lying in bed alongside you, after so long? It didn't make sense, it couldn't be real. Your mind refused to accept it, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in her behavior.

As your heart threatened to burst from your chest, your vision blurred and your hands trembled uncontrollably. You needed to escape. 

You slowly shifted, your arms trembling as you pushed yourself up, careful not to disturb your sleeping child or Ellie. He remained peacefully asleep, his blanket shifting gently with his movements. Despite your efforts, dizziness crept in, making you feel unsteady.

Struggling to maintain your balance, you reached the edge of the bed, managing to rise and quickly make your way towards the bathroom, the soft pitter-patter of your feet echoing behind you. 

Your legs weakened, trembling violently as you sank to your knees. Resting your head against the cool surface of the white bathroom door, you clenched your stomach, gripping onto your sides. Rocking back and forth, you struggled to calm the nauseating sensation overwhelming you.

"please...please...please.." you whispered to yourself, desperately praying for the nauseous feeling to leave.

The room felt immensely hot, the walls closing in as you struggled with the overwhelming sensation. Your eyes frantically scanned the bathroom, seeking something to keep your focus on.

Nausea gripped you, forcing you to rush towards the toilet. The memory of Ellie's body pressed against yours flooded your thoughts—the warmth, the softness of her skin against yours, a sensation you had longed for. Your lips quivered, your hand instinctively reaching for your forehead as the nausea intensified.

"no, no, no!...please," you pleaded, hovering over the toilet, ready to give in to the impending urge to gag.

She was in bed with you and your son—an elusive fantasy you had desperately wished for, now turned into a disorienting reality.

Tears began to fall, falling down your cheeks like flowing streams. You bit your lip, attempting to stifle the cries and hiccups. Your body trembled against the cool bathroom floor, your nose running uncontrollably.

Then, without warning, the nausea overcame you entirely.

Blegh! 

You leaned over the toilet, retching as the sounds reverberated throughout the bathroom. Each gag felt like a release. The bitter taste filled your mouth, a reminder of the chaos siring in your gut.

Her presence, once a distant dream, was now a reality pressed against yours, and yet...

You couldn't help but feel revolted.

With shaky hands, you stopped throwing up and rose from the toilet, the echoes of your whimpers and cries still ringing in the air. Tears streamed down your face, each droplet releasing the emotions raging inside you.

Your steps stumbling as you made your way to the sink, the sound of rushing water filling the bathroom. With trembling fingers, you turned on the faucet, allowing the water to flow freely. Cupping your hands, you gathered it and splashed it onto your tear-streaked face, desperate to cleanse away the discomfort and disgust.

───

After cleaning yourself up, you walked downstairs, taking deep breaths between every step to soothe yourself. The chaos of feelings stirred within you, but you refused to let them control the entire day.

Now in the kitchen, you headed straight to the stove, turning it on. Concentration fueled your movements as you prepared breakfast, the rhythmic sounds of sizzling pancakes and bacon filling the air. Your hands moved with practiced ease, flipping pancakes and stirring ingredients. 

As you cooked, the pancakes took shape—round, fluffy, just the way your kid loved them.

The sun cast warm rays, creating a gentle glow in the kitchen as the aroma of breakfast filled the entire house. It felt like you had fallen back into a fantasy, a moment of normalcy.

You walked over to open the window, craving to feel the outside breeze along your skin.  The morning wind was gentle, it made you feel alive and warm, as if it was your first breath this morning. Your eyes lit up and your soul felt at peace. 

───

Your kid's eyes squinted at the gentle sunlight, the warmth of his blanket clinging to his body. As he stirred and yawned, his eyes opened, and he smiled, stretching before turning his attention to you.

"Mama?.." he asked in a soft voice.

Realizing you weren't in bed beside him, his gaze shifted to find Ellie in your place.

Her chest rose and fell gently, her soft skin glowing in the sunlight. The sight of her was beautiful, this was the most peaceful he had seen her in forever.

His cheeks flushed with the sheer thrill of the moment. Grinning, he covered his mouth with his tiny hands, attempting to contain his excitement. Grabbing his blanket and teddy bear, he carefully slid off the bed, his hair messy from his sleep. 

As he descended, he couldn't resist stealing glances back at Ellie, peacefully asleep on the edge of the bed, hands still cupped under her chin. His smile grew, an expression of pure happiness. 

Thump.

The soft pitter-patter of his tiny feet reached the floor as he approached Ellie. Delicately, he extended his little hands, fingers entwined with strands of her auburn hair. Gently, he brushed the hair behind her ear, a gesture of tenderness he had never done before, a moment of connection with his mommy.

“There ya go mommy..” he whispered softly, careful not to disturb ellies sleep. 

He wished for time to stand still. He wanted her to welcome his presence, his heart filled with a need for connection. 

He pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her head. 

Hurriedly walking away, the little pitter-patter of his feet trailing behind him, he left the room excitedly, a big smile plastered over his face. Quickly making his way downstairs, running to find you.

You already heard the loud thumping of his feet running across the house, a soft smile creeping onto your face. You knew he was happy, thrilled to have found Ellie in their bed. But as you listened to his joyful steps, a heavy weight settled in your chest, a sinking feeling that refused to lift. God...why couldn’t you feel it too..?

“Good morning, honey!” you greeted as he dashed towards you.

“Mama! Mama!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around your legs and looking up at you. “Mommy’s in bed!”

You smiled warmly, “Yes, she is,” lifting him into your arms. Your child yawned and giggled, nestling comfortably in your embrace as you carried him to his chair. Feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His soft, warm presence was love itself.

Your kid sat there, staring at the pancakes. Still sleepy and drowsy, he resembled a small ball of happiness. Reaching to grab the pancake, he took a small bite, making the sweetest face as he chewed. 

“Yummy!” he exclaimed, giving you a syrupy smile.

You took the seat next to him, admiring him with a heart full of love. His eyes sparkled with softness—something you hoped he would always keep. Simply being in his presence filled you with a love so irreplaceable that you would rather die than never feel it again.

───

Ellie began waking up, groaning and stretching, irritated by her hangover. A slight headache throbbed, frustration in her movements.

This wasn't a typical situation for her; hangovers had become rare. However, last night had been an exception. Frustration with….well, everything had driven her to consume more alcohol than usual. Now she was dealing with the consequences. Her head pounded as she struggled to open her eyes properly. 

"Jesus..” she muttered, rubbing her eyes and wincing at the bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom. With unsteady steps, Ellie stumbled across the room, her eyes squinting against the light as she made her way to the bathroom. 

Turning on the cold water, she stepped into the shower, the chill helping to clear her mind. The cold droplets over her body, easing the throbbing in her head. After a quick shower, she dried herself off and brushed her teeth, hoping to get rid of the lingering taste of alcohol.

Feeling slightly refreshed, Ellie made her way downstairs, where the aroma of breakfast tugged at her stomach. She was hungry. 

Her eyes widened as she approached the kitchen.

The sight of you and your kid. A warm feeling bloomed in her chest. There was something heartwarming about seeing him eat breakfast like any other day, You looked beautiful sitting beside him, bathed in the soft morning light.

For a moment, Ellie felt a surge of warmth in her heart as she watched. There was a sense of beauty in your presence that she couldn't deny.

But that atmosphere quickly faded as Ellie's hangover intensified, a sharp migraine creeping.  She quickly turned to the window and shut it, blocking out the morning light and the fresh breeze. 

"Hey!" you exclaimed, upset that she had closed the window.

"What?" She snapped, now in a bad mood and seemingly aggravated. 

"I don't want the window closed."

"Well, I do." Her tone indicated she wouldn’t compromise.

You stared at her, walking over to the window and opening it again.

Her expression immediately returned to annoyance. The bright morning light shined on her face, her eyes now squinting.

"Close the damn window."

"No, it's beautiful out, I want to enjoy it."

"Well, I can’t fucking stand it."

"Then maybe you shouldn't drink yourself out…”

Ellie's face tightened at the mention of her hangover.

"I drink because of you. You make me so fucking mad that I need to numb myself somehow."

Your gaze shifts towards ellie, your eyes locking. 

"What? You think I enjoy drinking?!”  She snapped, her tone loud and harsh. “I hate the feeling, but I hate the reality I live in with you even more. You make me miserable."

Your eyes turned to the floor, a sudden shudder of ache filling you entirely.

There it was.

Ellie saw the emptiness in your eyes, feeling a pit in her stomach. Guilt washed over her, a familiar sensation that she couldn’t shake off. She wanted to make things right, to mend the scars in your relationship. No matter how hard she tried, she always met your efforts with resistance. She didn’t know how to break the pattern, how to control the constant tug-of-war between you two. She was the constant push to your pull, and it left her feeling lost. 

"I'm just…being honest, that's all..." Ellie's voice dripped with frustration, her eyes narrowed. 

You walked over to your kid, wiping his sticky hands from the syrup, Ellie's gaze followed you. She could sense the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air, knowing she had hurt you once again. The guilt gnawed at her insides, but she struggled to find the right words to express her remorse. She wished she could take back her harshness, to erase the pain she had caused, but the damage was done, and she couldn't undo it.

. Ellie couldn't bear to watch the sight of you being so caring and playful with him. You seemed to effortlessly radiate warmth and love, while she struggled to even crack a smile. Your affectionate gestures towards him, it was pure love, a love she wished she could reciprocate with the same easyness. 

"you're a little messy eater huh?" You teased at him, wiping his mouth clean. 

Your kid's innocent joy and laughter filled the room, creating a small bubble of happiness. Completely unaware of the tension between you and Ellie, he simply found joy in his pancakes.

You pressed a gentle kiss on his head and collected his messy plate. Making your way to the sink, you diligently scrubbed away the remnants of breakfast. Your kid glanced toward Ellie, a curious expression on his face. "Mommy, you don't want pancakes?"

"I don't want pancakes," she said with a firmness that cut through the air. Her tone was sharp, making it clear that she had no intention of changing her mind. Without glancing at him, she maintained a stare, her expression blank and unreadable.

"But Mama made them," he insisted, pointing towards you, hoping Ellie would try the pancakes made with love, thinking it might make her happy. Ellie rolled her eyes in response, dismissing the idea that she might enjoy the pancakes. Her eyes drifted towards the stack. The pancakes, made with care, looked so delicious. Although her mouth started to water, she hesitated to admit how much she wanted them.

"I'm not hungry." She snapped back, her tone clearly not open to changing her answer.

She looked away immediately after her response.

Clank!

You dropped a plate in the sink, the loud clatter echoing through the kitchen. It was a purposeful move, a warning to Ellie to watch her tone and treatment of your child. While you could handle her sharp comments, you drew the line when it came to your kid.

Ellie's eyes widened at the noise, a flash of irritation as she glared in your direction.

The tension between you both hung in the air for a moment before you resumed cleaning the dishes. 

Ellie stayed motionless, her gaze fixed on nothing. She was deep in thought. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking. After a prolonged silence, she finally spoke.

"I don't... want pancakes," she repeated, her tone softer.

"Okay then, you don't have to eat." you responded coldly, finishing the dishes and drying your hands.

Her gaze met yours without showing any emotion. Guilt lingered inside her. 

You picked up your son, his playful and happy demeanor in your arms. You carried him, showering him with kisses and affectionate hugs. His carefree and innocence tugged at her, causing a sharp ache.

Seeing you both so happy triggered a wave of jealousy within her. The sight of your joy made her feel pathetic.

"You're spoiling him.” she snapped, her tone with a hint of defensiveness.

She felt threatened, questioning her role as a parent. She continued to watch, all she wanted was to be part of that warmth and happiness.

"I'm just spending time with him," you snapped back, shooting her a glare.

"You're just babying him. He's going to think he can do anything without any consequences. You're raising him to be a spoiled brat..."

"At least I’m raising him..." The room filled with silence and unspoken resentment.

Ellie had no response to that; you hit a sore spot. The tension was heavy in the room, and your kid noticed it immediately. 

"m’gonna to go play, mama," he said eagerly.

You nodded and caressed his face, setting him down on the floor. "Okay, my love..."

Ellie glanced over, you looked so loving and caring when you did those small things for your kid. She sighed and turned away, her anger affecting her ability to interact with either of you.

"What’s your problem?" you asked, glaring at her.

Your question caught her off guard; you weren't letting her get away with treating your kid so harshly.

"I just want him to understand what life is really like, not this perfect little bubble you’re building around him. Kids get hurt, and you're not letting him be prepared for a ruthless world."

"He’s already experiencing that with your words..."

She remained silent for a moment. You were right; he had already experienced negativity and hurt just from her words. "He should get used to it; the world isn’t going to be nice to him. At least not when he grows up."

She was clearly still stuck in a bad mood, getting back into her defensive mindset. "Life is a harsh reality; I don't want our son to have unrealistic expectations. He should know what the world is really like."

“He’s a kid,” you said firmly. “He isn’t going to turn out a fuck up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You know exactly what it means.”

Ellie scoffed, her footsteps heavy as she made her way to the kitchen table. She settled into the chair with a frustrated sigh, retrieving a cigarette from her pocket. Lighting it, she took a long drag, the smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her leg bounced anxiously as she sat in tense silence, lost in her own thoughts.

“You slept in bed with us..” you said, your gaze fixed on her.

Ellie twitched at the sudden mention of last night. She didn't reply immediately, just taking more drags from her cigarette. She seemed conflicted between being silent or talking about it.

After a few moments of silence, she finally spoke. “Yeah…”

“You hadn’t done that since…” you started.

"I don’t wanna talk about it," she muttered, cutting you off abruptly. The topic was a sore spot, one that shouldn't be poked.

"It was… just one night," she continued, her tone distant.

You fiddled with your fingers, debating whether to continue. It hadn’t been something that had been discussed in years.

“El’s..” you started, moving closer to her, “I need you to know that I forgiv-”

“Stop.” she interrupted, shutting her eyes as if she already knew what you were going to say.

You stood in front of her, determined to make her face the conversation. “No, Ellie, we need to talk about this-”

“I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.” she quickly interrupted once again, her tone growing louder, her leg bouncing faster as she took another long drag of her cigarette. She truly didn’t want to discuss it, it was something she hoped to bury deep within her mind.

Your frustration and agitation grew as she continued to shut you down. It had become too much for you; you had reached a point where you couldn't continue any longer.

“I don’t give a fuck!” You yelled, causing Ellie to suddenly jolt, almost dropping her cigarette. “Things can not continue like this anymore! I’m tired, Ellie! Fucking tired! I have completely lost myself in continuing to have hope, having faith that things will change, that things will get better…”

“And it’s all because of you.” Your eyes began to swell, tears itching to fall. “I’ve moved on, El’s. I’ve grieved, I’ve mended, I’ve healed! You’re the one who has been stuck in the same place, in the same continuous cycle!  Not willing to fucking move!” 

You slammed your hand on the table, vibrating the entire surface, making Ellie flinch once again. “Ever since he’s entered our lives, you’ve become unrecognizable! You’re somebody I can’t love anymore!” 

Your cheeks were stained with streams of tears, each drop tracing a path down your trembling face. The silent sobs shook your body, leaving you gasping for breath between hiccups.

Ellie's gaze fixated on you, her eyes widening in shock as her lips trembled. “why can’t you fucking see..” she began getting up, now towering over you. “that’s the exact reason i’m this way! I’m the reason for everything!”

Ellie's hands began trembling, her eyes pleading as they started to well up with tears. Her breath hitched, caught in the overwhelming emotions she had kept bottled up for so long. “For fucks sake, I’m the reason you lost our baby!”

Your eyes widened.

"I was the reason we were in Seattle! I chose to seek revenge and took us out there to achieve it!” 

"It wasn’t your fault! It was nobody’s fault!" you exclaimed, looking up at her with tear-filled eyes.

Ellie scoffed, avoiding your gaze, a tear escaping down her cheek. "How can you tell me that? I knew you were pregnant and yet still took you! I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to get the job done! And i-instead…instead..”

Her trembling hands covered her face. The weight of the past was suffocating. Ellie crumbled into the kitchen chair, her sobs echoing throughout the kitchen.

“I let…y-you get,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “f..fucking…s-stabbed...”

[timdrakesbussy]

Some of my™ Stardew Valley HCs

TW: mention of miscarriages

Emily listens to all kinds of music but despite not looking like it, she mainly listens to heavy metal. It's one of the thing that brought her and Shane's early friendship together. And because of that, Haley shares a bit of fondness to the genre that she enjoys Sam's band (but don't tell him. this will mess with her rep).

Sam is pretty educated when it comes to literature, and English was always his favorite subject when he was in school. He's the main songwriter of his band and while Sebastian could also write, Sam manages to be witty and clever with his lyrics. Other than storytelling through song, he loves his double and triple entendres. Suffice to say, he could get along pretty well with Elliott and it's one of the reason why Penny loves hanging out with him.

Ever since she was a child, Maru thinks that Sebastian is really cool and she wants to be like him one way or another. Of course, she still wants to be herself but Sebastian is just so damn cool. During her time at school, she made herself learn how to ride a motorcycle using a friend's bike because she knew Sebastian would never lend her his.

Elliott was from an esteemed family from a foreign land (just Stardew's equivalent of Europe tbh) and was a licensed lawyer until he stopped to be a writer. Needless to say, his family are not happy by this sudden decision. Not that he needs their opinion on the matter, he was pushing thirty when he made this decision.

Harvey was an ER doctor in Zuzu City until the incident™. He knew that with his line of job, he can't save everyone. However, he can't help but feel guilty and terrible afterwards. Which is why he has routine check-ups for the villagers, and if they can't visit him, then he will visit them. You cannot escape him because he will find you (affectionate).

Both Haley and Alex believed that at one point, they actually liked each other romantically. But when they had their first kiss together, they realized that they weren't meant to be. They have this deep platonic connection that even Emily doesn't really understand, but she's happy that her baby sister have someone she can rely on and trust for all her life.

Robin takes pride in her name even if her parents weren't supportive over her work at first. She have Sebastian share her last name, and when she married Demetrius, she hyphenated their surnames instead of just taking his.

Demetrius and Sebastian were close when he was a child. Sebastian was an overly curious and precocious boy and Demetrius was happy that he could share something with his stepson, their interest in biology. Although Sebastian was squeamish and even almost cried when he dissected a frog, he managed to calm him down. And even after their mutual parting as Sebastian grew older, he's the only one who knows what Demetrius' favorite animal is: moonlight jellies.

Jodi and Kent were teenagers when they had Sam. Jodi came from a highly conservative and religious family so they forced them to marry after Jodi gave them the news that she was pregnant. As they were teens, Kent took any odd jobs he could get in the city, from a corner-store clerk to a garbage man. Until he got offered into joining the military.

Pam was a trucker before she became a bus driver. In fact, she met Penny's dad in the business. But in her childhood, she was in multiple beauty pageants and even into her adulthood, she knows how to hairdo. She helped Penny with her hair since she was a child and hope that she could still do Penny's hair in her future wedding, whenever that is.

Alex's mom had multiple miscarriages before she have him, and that was into her ten years of marriage. She was beyond ecstatic with his birth that she immediately called her aging parents who also shared her happiness, they then invited her to the Valley a few days after Alex was born so they could celebrate in the Mullners' house. Lewis heard about the news and asked if they wanted to celebrate in the Saloon in which Evelyn denied because Clara wanted a small celebration with just her family.

Abigail is the only marriageable candidate to be born in the Valley. Sebastian moved in not long after Maru was born so he was close to her as he was the only child her age at that time. Penny moved in when she was seven with her parents until her dad left when she was ten. Haley moved in when she was ten years old while Sam moved in a year after. Alex often visited his grandparents but he officially moved in after Clara's death in his pre-teens. The rest moved in as adults.

Similarly to Alex, Shane only ever visited and stayed for a while in the Valley until he needed to take care of Jas. He wasn't close with his parents and they never tried to be anyways, Marnie is always the mother figure he has. So other than Marnie and Jas, the only people he considered as his family was Jas' parents. Her father, whom he met and befriended in college (as he was his roommate, before they mutually dropped out) and her mother whom he wasn't very close to at first until they both find comradery in bullying (affectionate) Jas' father.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l five

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: You and Ellie have a talk outside your house in the middle of the night and you discover her secret; Joel asks you one more time to tell him to back off and you don’t comply.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) mention of reader’s injuries from the previous chapter (very minimal use of color description, i try to keep it was vague as possible), mentions of domestic violence, talk of possible infertility, pregnancy loss, reader describes her miscarriage (mention of cramping/bleeding), infedility. SMUT. fingering, oral sex (f receiving).

Word Count: 7.5k

You stare up blankly into the pitch black darkness of your bedroom—at Luke’s request, you’d drawn the linen curtains over the window, keeping out the moonlight so it wouldn’t disturb his slumber. Unable to see the hour on your watch, you can’t be too sure as to what time it is, but you’re fairly certain it’s well past the middle of the night, possibly even past the earlier hours of the morning. The harder that you try forcing yourself to fall asleep, the more you find yourself tossing and turning under the covers in frustration. It’s beginning to break what little sanity you have left and eventually, you realize it’s better just to give up on sleep altogether.

Luke is laying beside you, although he’d rolled over onto his side with his back to you. He had gone straight to bed after dinner while you’d been washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You often have very little choice but to fulfill your wifely duties in the bedroom, but lately, Luke had been so tired that he hadn’t even bothered with you, and for that, you’d also been grateful. You had grown to loathe whenever he touched you, it disgusted you whenever he would kiss you or put his hands on you in an intimate manner—you couldn’t even stand it when he so much as breathed in your direction.

Being careful not to wake him, you swing your legs over the side of the mattress and climb out of bed, quietly padding your way over into the bathroom. Closing the door, you flip on the lights and take a look at yourself in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging on the wall above the porcelain sink. You begin to silently inspect your reflection, silently praying that you’d somehow made it through another incident with Luke unscathed. Though your face still stings, thankfully no mark from the blow had been left behind—the same can’t be said for your upper arm. Your skin is blemished, soft flesh tender and irritated from the iron grip he’d had on you earlier in the kitchen. It’s splotched, and the harder you stare at it, the easier it is to make out the shape of his fingerprints, an injury you can’t exactly blame on running into the door or an accidental kick from a horse.

It would be hell having to wear a shirt with longer sleeves to cover yourself up in this heat while working outside in the paddock and inside the stables—the mere thought of it alone makes you sweat. Either that or you can hide away at home for a few days until the marks heal, or at least start to fade. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d have to pretend to be sick and miss your work duties long enough for an injury to heal.

You take the thin, cotton gray robe hanging from a hook on the bathroom door and tug it on over your sleepwear before turning off the lights and stepping out of the bathroom. Brushing past your bed, you slip out of the bedroom. You’re careful to be quiet as you swiftly make your way downstairs and dip out through the front door and onto the porch. During the day, the weather is scorching, but evenings aren’t quite as bad—you wrap the billowy fabric of your robe around yourself as you sink down, taking a seat on the top step of the porch.

“Fuck,” you mutter softly.

Covering your face with both hands, you shake your head as you will yourself to keep it together—you fail at holding back the incoming tears. You curse again, angry at yourself for crying over Luke. Bastard doesn’t deserve a single tear, and yet, the number of them you’d shed over him in the last couple of years would be enough to power the hydroelectric dam outside the town’s walls.

You lift a hand to your mouth and muffle your sobs, but one or two slip out into the silence of the night. Not that it matters, because no one’s around to hear them. Besides the patrolmen working the wall on the opposite end of the settlement, everyone is at home, fast asleep in their beds. No one in their right mind was up at this hour if they didn’t have to be. Or so you’d thought.

The familiar sound of Ellie’s voice saying your name startles you, prompting you to let out a loud, audible gasp as your head snaps up and whips to the side. Instinctively, you reach up and quickly, almost furiously, wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your robe. “Ellie?” you say her name in a confused, questioning manner as she approaches. Though your voice is thick with your emotions, your concern for her is still evident in your tone. “What are you doing outside at this time of night? What’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

“I couldn’t really sleep, so I decided to take a stroll. Wanted to get some fresh air,” she says. She draws closer to you and in the soft, dim glow of the porch light, she notices the tear stains that streak the sides of your face. “You know, I thought I heard someone crying and for a minute, I could’ve sworn I was losing my fucking shit or something. But I guess not.” Pausing, she shoves her hands into the packets of her plaid pajama pants. “You okay? And before you lie to me and say that you’re fine, just know that I’m not blind and I’m as hell not fucking stupid, either.”

You could have laughed—you actually almost do.

The girl’s too smart for her own good.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Ellie asks, gesturing with a nod of her head to the spot beside you.  

You nod and as she sits down, your hand wraps itself around your sore arm. It’s not like she can see it through the sleeve of your robe, but it’s a force of habit. Hiding this, concealing that—covering it all up.

It’s wired into your brain.

Ellie pulls her hands out of her pockets and brings one of them onto your bare knee in a soft, light slap. “Alright, princess. Fess up.” She’d pinned you with that nickname since the night she had seen you in a dress at the party. Nudging your side with her elbow, she continues to say, “Talk to me. What happened?”

“Ellie—” You abruptly stop, realizing it’s a waste of breath trying to convince her that nothing is wrong. You’d gotten to know just how stubborn that she could be. Exhaling a sigh of defeat, you confess, “I had a fight with Luke.”

“What did he do?”

Perplexed, you turn and raise an eyebrow at her. Ellie still hadn’t had the chance to meet Luke, and after what he’d said about her, you had every intention of keeping it that way—you want him to stay far, far away from her. Still, her assumption about him being the one at fault catches you off guard. It makes you wonder just how observant the teenager really is and whether or not she has any preconceived notions about your marriage. “What makes you think that it was him? How do you know it wasn’t my fault?”

Ellie scoffs, “Please. What on earth could little miss perfect possibly do wrong?”

Another one of her silly nicknames for you.

Unable to help yourself, you crack a small smile.

You release a breathy little laugh and feel another tear slide down the side of your face. Reaching up, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. “I’m not perfect, Ellie. I’m far from it, actually,” you tell her, quietly. “I haven’t always been the best wife—definitely not a perfect one, that’s for damn sure. You might not believe me, but I’ve made my fair share of mistakes in the past, and those mistakes really caused a rift between us that we were never quite able to repair.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Aw, come on. What could you have done that was so fucking terrible?”

You sigh.

“When my father got sick, I let myself drift away. I just had so much on my plate between learning how to take care of the horses and looking after my father as his health deteriorated. It was so overwhelming and I just—I shut Luke out.” You don’t have the slightest clue as to why you’re confessing any of this to a fifteen year old, but it eases the heaviness, lifts a weight that you’d been carrying on your shoulders for far, far too long. “I neglected him, Ellie. I neglected him, and I neglected my marriage.” Your voice breaks off into a trembling whisper, prompting her to nudge you with her elbow once more. Though she hadn’t said anything, it was her way of encouraging you to let it out and god only knew that you needed to get the guilt off your chest and out into the open. Luke is an awful man and you don’t want to justify the terrible things he’s done to you, but you still feel partially responsible for how badly things had fallen apart, how they began crumbling long before the first time he’d ever put his hands on you. “I know Luke never forgave me for that, Ellie. In fact, I would say he fucking hates me for it.”

“Your dad was fucking dying! You had to learn how to be a veterinarian in what—a year or two?” Ellie sounds angry and it doesn’t surprise you. You know she’s grown to love you over the last couple of months—you two spend more time with one another than with anyone else and have become incredibly close. Ellie takes a moment to calm herself down before asking, “How long have you and Luke been married to each other, anyway?”

“For about a few years now. We’ve been together since I got to Jackson,” you explain. “A few months after we met, we exchanged vows in the old church that’s just up the road.”

Ellie brings her knees up and hugs them against her chest. “Can I ask you something? It’s really fucking personal, though.” She notices the amused look you toss at her and rolls her eyes. “More personal than what I’ve asked you up until now.”

“Depends. How personal are we talking?” Though you’re mostly joking, part of you is worried about what’s going to come out of the brazen teenager’s mouth. 

“How come you and Luke don’t have any kids?”

Your eyes fall down to your hands, which you’re subconsciously wringing together anxiously in your lap. “I don’t know, Ellie.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Exactly that. I don’t know.” You shrug and feel her lean against you as you elaborate on it a little further. “Once we’d realized that Jackson was just about as safe and secure as we could hope for, we tried starting a family. We wanted to have children like the other couples here in the community, but it never happened for us. I did get pregnant once. It was right before my dad got sick. I miscarried just a couple of days after taking one of those home pregnancy tests. I had just told Maria about the positive result—I was at her place when I started cramping, and then I started bleeding a little bit. Luke said it was normal for some women to experience that, but the next morning, I used the bathroom and—” You trail off, letting her piece together the last piece of the puzzle.

“Shit, I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright,” you reassure her, not wanting her to feel bad for having asked. “Anyway, after a couple of months, we decided to try for another baby, but I never got pregnant again.” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the expression on her face and beat her to the punch. “And before you ask me, we don’t know who the problem is. It could be me, it could be Luke—it could be both of us for all we know. But without proper medical testing, there’s no way we can know for sure what’s going on. It’s something that we’re probably never going to figure out.”

For a moment, Ellie’s silent. 

You can feel she’s itching to ask another question, tell that it’s right there on the tip of her tongue.

“Go ahead,” you encourage her. “It’s okay.”

“Are you happy with Luke?”

You hadn’t known what to expect.

But you certainly hadn’t expected that.  

Maybe you should have. 

Masking the shock on your expression, you turn to her and say, “He’s my husband, Ellie.”

She blinks. “You didn’t answer the question.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fail you, and you quickly clamp it shut.

She’d stumped you. Hard.

After a minute, Ellie laughs, “Well, your silence answered the question a hell of a lot better than you fucking did, princess.” She sees you wring your hands together again and her grin fades. She speaks again, her tone going serious. “I don’t get it. If you’re not happy with him, then why not leave and find someone you can actually be happy with?”

“Ellie—”

“Come on, I see how all the men around here look at you,” she scoffs, shaking her head. 

“Elle, please,” you sigh in exasperation. “That’s not true.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth and peers at you.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I know Joel’s definitely got a thing for you—he’s got a thing for you big time.”

You stiffen beside her. 

Fuck. 

“And I know you’ve got a thing for him too.” Ellie’s eyes glimmer mischievously, the corners of her mouth tugging up into a smirk as she watches the color drain from your face.

Say something, you silently urge yourself. Anything. 

“Ellie, I’m married,” you manage to stammer out.

Ellie snorts and shoots you a knowing look. “Listen, princess. It’s like I told you. I’m not blind and I’m not stupid. I know something happened between you two in Ranger’s stall right before me and Dina walked in.”

Again, she has you at a complete loss for words.

“So,” she prompts. “Who kissed who first?”

“Fuck,” you mumble. Embarrassed, you drop your head into your hands, unable to look at her. “I can’t even imagine what you must think of me—”

She touches your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Surprised, you lift your head and turn to meet her gaze. 

“I think you’re someone who just wants to be happy,” she states. “And for some fucking reason I don’t think I will ever understand, I’m guessing that Joel makes you happy?”

“I like him a lot, Ellie. Since the moment I first saw him back during the winter, there was something that drew me to him,” you admit, feeling your cheeks grow warm. After a minute, you squint at her and chuckle. “You probably find that pretty weird, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Really fucking weird,” Ellie replies, causing you to laugh again. “Joel’s a different breed, man. Joel is—well, Joel is Joel. I didn’t see that asshole crack a smile until weeks after I first met him. We come here and not only do you have smiling—you got him to fucking dance at a party in front of a bunch of people. You might not think anything of it, but if you knew the Joel that I met a year ago, the Joel who hated the whole world and every motherfucker in it, you’d be shocked.”

You blurt the question before you can stop yourself. “How exactly did you and Joel wind up together, anyway?”

Ellie’s eyes widen slightly. “Um, I met him back in the Boston QZ.”

Suddenly, she seems nervous. Afraid, even.  

Whatever secrets Ellie carries, she can’t speak of them—and you respect that.

“It’s okay,” you assure her, shaking your head. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, alright?”

She nibbles the inside of her cheek. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you—I do. I haven’t been able to tell anyone and it’s been weighing down on me for months now. It’s the reason I can’t fucking sleep at night. It’s on my mind almost all day, every fucking day,” she confesses with an exhausted sigh. “I know if there’s one person that I can trust to tell, it’s gonna be you and only you.”

Patiently, you wait for her to make her choice.

Ellie sighs again.

“If I do tell you, I need you to promise me a couple things—the first is that you won’t fucking freak out on me.”

“I won’t freak out on you,” you swear. 

“And the second is that you can’t tell Romeo that I told you anything about what I’m about to tell you, no matter what,” she warns you. “Got it?”

“Oh, please don’t call him that,” you mutter with a small shake of your head. She narrows her eyes at you and you hold your hands up. “Don’t worry, Ellie. Whatever we talk about tonight, it stays between the two of us. I promise.”

“Okay.” Ellie inhales a deep breath, then exhales it slowly before she lifts her arm. Slowly, she peels back the sleeve of her shirt and holds her arm out for you to see.

“Ellie,” you gasp her name softly. Taking it into your hands, your eyes glaze over what appears to be a large, healed bite wound. After a moment, you look back up at her in complete disbelief. “Is this from—?”

She nods. “Yeah. I got bit a year ago, but I never got sick.”

“How is that even possible?”

“I’m immune.” Ellie withdraws her arm, tugging her sleeve back down into place. That’s when she finally begins to tell you the entire story, beginning to end. She spends the next hour sparing absolutely no details as she recounts each and every one of the events from the abandoned mall in the Boston QZ right down to the Firefly hospital in Salt Lake City.

She tells you about her best friend, Riley. She tells you about Marlene and the Fireflies. She tells you about Joel and his former smuggling partner, Tess, and how Marlene had entrusted them to smuggle Ellie out of Boston. She tells you all about how she and Joel had spent several months traveling on foot halfway across the country to get her to where she needed to be. Losses, near fatal injuries, failures—Ellie spills it all right into your lap, leaving you speechless.

“Joel told me there’s a bunch more people like me who are immune. He said they’ve stopped looking for a cure.” Ellie’s eyes glaze over with tears, but she furiously blinks them back. “I shouldn’t even be here. I should be dead. But I’m not. I’m living in an actual fucking town, living a decent life. I’m going to fucking parties when I should really be dead.”

Finally, you find your voice.

“Ellie, don’t say that,” you say, softly. “That’s not true.”

“It is. I should be fucking dead, just like Riley. Like Tess. Like Sam—”

You turn, angling your body towards hers. You want to reassure her—but you don’t want to dismiss her feelings, either. “Ellie, I can’t even imagine how you must feel after everything you’ve been through, so I won’t sit here and pretend that I can.” Lifting your hands, you take her face between your palms and hold it gingerly, your thumb brushing a stray tear that had slipped and rolled down her cheek. “But if you’re still alive, it’s for a reason.”

“I thought I had a reason,” she mumbles. “But it’s gone now. I thought I had a purpose, but turns out I fucking don’t. My immunity, it means nothing. It meant nothing, all the fucking shit that I had to go through, that Joel had to go through—it was all for fucking nothing.”

Dropping your hands from her face, you place an arm around her and pull her close. “It might not have worked out the way you wanted it to and for that, I’m sorry,” you say, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “I know nothing I say is going to make what you’re feeling just go away. But one thing is for sure, Ellie. You don’t deserve to be dead. None of what happened out there is on you. None of it is your fault. You shouldn’t feel guilty because you’re still alive. It’s like I told you—if you’re still here, it’s for a reason.”

She sniffs. “Maybe the reason is being a thorn in your side.”

Grinning, you reach up and lightly pinch her flushed cheek, prompting her to laugh and slap your hand away. “For the record, you could never be a thorn in my side, Ellie. Not even if you tried.” You wait until her giggles subside before adding, “And just so you know, you have my word about this staying between the two of us.”

“Swear it?”

“I swear it,” you promise her with confidence. 

She flashes you a tiny, appreciative smile. “Thanks.”

A comfortable silence settles over the both of you. You take in the sounds of the night—crickets chirping, owls cooing, and you can even hear a coyote howling in the distance.

“It’s pretty late,” you say, breaking it a few minutes later when you realize how long she’d been out of bed. “You should get home now.” You stand up and hold a hand out to her, helping her up to her feet. “Come on, I’ll take you to the door.”

You walk her back over to her and Joel’s unit and stand at the foot of the porch with her.

“Hey.” Ellie turns to you. “Is it alright if I like—give you a hug or something?”

Her request takes you by slight surprise, but you nod. “Of course.”

She hesitates, at first. But then she takes a step towards you and slips her arms around your waist.

As you wrap your own around her shoulders, it suddenly dawns on you that Ellie hadn’t asked for a hug because she needed one—but because she realized that you needed one.

A minute or two passes and Ellie doesn’t let you go.

An emotional lump rises to the back of your throat and you bury your face into her soft brown hair, warm tears brimming your eyes and threatening to fall.

“Ellie,” you croak her name, trying to warn her. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you. She rests her head on your chest over your heartbeat. She hears it pounding, feels it thrumming against her cheekbone.

She holds you tightly and you finally break, choking a sob into her hair. As your body shudders in her arms, she squeezes you harder, almost as if she’s trying to somehow hug your pain away.

For the first time in two years, you’re finally allowing yourself to cry in front of someone else—for the first time in two years, you don’t feel completely alone.

Suddenly, the front door of the house swings open in such an aggressive manner that it startles you apart from one another.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel breathes, letting out a sigh of relief as he descends the porch steps. “Ellie, what the hell are you doin’ out of bed at two o’ clock in the goddamn mornin’? I went to check up on you and you were gone! Scared the fuckn’ shit outta me—” He stops abruptly when he finally realizes she’s not alone. He steps closer and even in the darkness, he sees the tears you’re trying to wipe away. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, quickly. “Sorry, Joel. She was with me. We were just at my house talking out on my front porch and we lost track of time—”

He cuts you off. “Why are you cryin’?”

Ellie’s eyes helplessly bounce between the two of you.

“Joel, it’s nothing. I promise it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” Joel turns to Ellie. “Go inside and get to bed. Go on now.”

“But Joel—”

He pins her with a stern look and she sighs. She gives you one more hug, a quick one, before disappearing inside the house, closing the door behind her.

“C’mere darlin’,” Joel murmurs, taking your hand in his. He leads you up the steps of his porch. The light is off, but the moon and stars light up the night sky bright enough that you’re able to make out the concern written all over his face. Joel keeps your hand in his own as he guides you to sit down on the porch swing he’d built and hung for Ellie. He sits down beside you. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you fib again. 

“Really?” He hums. “‘Cause those tears are tellin’ me a whole different story.”

You can’t help but wonder if Ellie had always been stubborn—or if she’d picked it up from Joel. The latter wouldn’t surprise you.

“I had a fight with Luke. It was on my mind and I couldn’t sleep, so I stepped outside to try and clear my head a little bit,” you explain to him, keeping everything as vague as possible. “I was sitting on my porch—Ellie couldn’t sleep either and was taking a walk when she saw me. She noticed I’d been crying and offered to keep me company for a while.”

“You had a fight with Luke,” he repeats.

“Joel—”

“Why did you two fight? He do somethin’ to you?”

You sigh. “He said something to me he knew would hit a nerve,” you tell him, hoping it’s enough of an explanation for him. “I got upset and said something stupid to him that I really shouldn’t have and we got into an argument.”

Joel squeezes your hand, momentarily hesitating.

You’re almost afraid to ask, but you do anyway. “What?”

“Are you happy with him?”

You stare at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t think I stuttered, peach. I asked if you’re happy with him.”

Pulling your hand out of Joel’s, you stand up and walk over to the wooden railing that circles his porch. You look across the road, fixing your eyes on the front door of a neighboring house.

When Ellie had asked you that question, it’d been fairly innocent.

But now that it’s Joel asking you, it’s different.

You hear the sound of his footsteps coming up behind you and swallow harshly. Slowly, you turn around to face him, though you hadn’t realized he had been so close. Your eyes meet his chest, clad in the same navy blue shirt he’d been wearing when you had dropped off your father’s guitar.

Nervously, they flicker up to meet his. “Luke is my husband, Joel.”

Joel echoes Ellie’s words. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Like father, like daughter. 

“We’re fine, Joel. Our marriage is fine. Alright?”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Still didn’t answer the question.”

“What does it matter to you?” you challenge him. You’re certain you know the answer to your own question. Still, part of you, the part that lacks all common sense, wants to hear it from his own mouth. You need to hear it from him. 

“I think you know why, darlin’.” He takes a step closer. He’s now standing so close that his chest touches yours.

“Joel—” You stop, unsure of what to say.

“Tell me to back off,” Joel utters the same words he’d said to you back at the stables. He leans down, inching closer and closer to you. “Please. I need you to tell me to back off right now before I do somethin’ stupid.”

You try to oblige—you really, really try to do what he’s asking of you. But you can’t.

You don’t want to.

Your heart pounds and you can hear the roar of your own blood rushing in your ears as the adrenaline shoots through your veins.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. 

“Please,” Joel nearly pleads. “Tell me to back off.”

“I can’t,” you admit, sounding as weak as you feel. “I can’t do that, Joel.”

“Why not?”

“I think you know why,” you reply, parroting his own words back to him.

He inches closer and your breaths fall from your lips in tiny, pathetic little pants. Your chest heaves as you try to steady them, but it’s useless. There’s no masking the effect he has on you, no hiding how he’s making you feel.

Joel gingerly takes the side of your face and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Baby.”

It’s ironic. Just hours ago, Luke had struck you there in a painful slap and now here is Joel, holding it so softly and so gently in his hand. His touch is comforting, it’s soothing—somehow you already know it has the power to heal the wounds you thought you’d have to live with for the rest of your life.

His other hand moves to your hip and he pulls you in even closer to him. He leans in and presses his lips to yours lightly, carefully, as if he’s testing the waters before allowing himself to take the plunge into the deep end. The moment he feels you melt right into his hands, his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, silently asking you permission for more.

Eager, your mouth parts for him and he backs you into the wooden railing as he kisses you deeper, with fervor. Your hands slide up his chest, past his wide shoulders, and tangle themselves in his soft, graying curls.

Groaning, Joel tears his mouth away from yours and pins you between himself and the railing, his lips meeting the sensitive flesh of your neck and latching on in desperation. He pushes your robe off your shoulders and it falls to the ground with a soft thud. Your breath catches in your throat as his warm, calloused hands slide up the hem of your shirt and up the length of your sides, his fingers gliding across your smooth skin.

“Joel,” you faintly whimper his name, your hands falling back down onto his shoulders. You grasp them, holding on as if you’re holding onto dear life itself.

You can’t help but imagine what it would be like to feel those hands roam and explore the entirety of your body, touching every last inch of skin you have to offer him. Your mind wanders even further and you wonder how your name would sound rolling off of his tongue while he’s buried inside of you, making you his own.

“You really ain’t gonna tell me to back off,” he mumbles the realization into the hollow of your neck. Inhaling deeply, he commits your scent to memory—the sweet, subtle, fragrance of homemade milk and honey bath soap blends together with the delicate lavender from the calming salve you smother yourself in every night before bed. 

“No,” you exhale the world shakily. “I’m not. Because I don’t want you to back off.”

Joel pushes one of his hands further up your shirt, cupping one of your breasts and eliciting another whimper as he kneads the soft mound of flesh, a thumb brushing over your hard nipple. His other hand moves around your waist and he holds you close as his teeth scrape across your collarbone, nipping at it lightly.

He silently reminds himself to be careful not to leave behind marks. He can’t send you home to your husband covered in evidence.

Withdrawing his hand from underneath your shirt, he drags it down to the waistband of your thin, cotton blue shorts. His index finger skims along the elastic. 

“Joel,” you mewl his name into his chest, thighs clenching together as the arousal pools between them, drenching your panties.

Surely he has to know what he’s doing to you by now.

“What is it, my little peach?” he asks, humming against your collarbone. “What do you what?”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders in a silent plea.

“Y’gotta tell me what you want, baby,” Joel murmurs quietly. “Ain’t doin’ anythin’ unless you tell me you want me to. Use your words, sweet girl.”

“Touch me, Joel. Please, I need you to touch me. I need you to fucking touch me,” you beg him in a low, husky voice you don’t even recognize.

Slotting his lips against yours, he does as you ask him and slips his hand down the front of your bottoms. He groans into the kiss the second he makes contact with your heat. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he curses quietly, his eyes snapping open and meeting yours in the moonlight. “Baby, you’re soakin’ wet. This all for me, sweetheart?”

You exhale sharply as he drags his index finger along your entrance—it’s then followed by a loud, audible gasp when he pushes it into your throbbing cunt.

“Joel,” you moan, prompting him to quickly cover your mouth with his once again, swallowing the noise. 

After a moment, Joel pulls away slightly and warns, “Can’t be too loud, darlin’. Kid can’t see us, but I’m willin’ to bet she’s got her ear pressed against the door tryin’ to eavesdrop. Gonna need you to be a real good girl and stay quiet for me, alright?”

You nod, biting down on your lip.

“Good.” He pushes a second finger into your pussy, relishing in how deliciously tight you feel around his digits. He can only imagine how heavenly you would feel wrapped around something else of his.

You sink your teeth harder into your lip and swallow back a moan as he curls his fingers inside of you in an upward, come hither motion, brushing against a spot in your body you didn’t even know existed. Joel withdraws them ever so slightly, then thrusts them back into you, intensifying the flames deep in your lower belly.

“Fuck, peach. Gotta fuckin’ taste you, darlin’,” he mutters as he pulls his hand away from you and takes a step backwards, giving himself enough space to sink down onto his knees.

Realizing what he means, you open your eyes and quickly stop him, pulling him back up his feet. “Joel. Wait.”

He frowns—had you changed your mind? 

“What’s the matter?”

“No one’s ever—I’ve never had anyone do that to me before.” Blazing heat scorches your cheeks as you make the admission.

Joel scoffs in disbelief. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

Embarrassed, you shake your head. “No. I’m not.”

He leans forward and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, making you shiver as he whispers lustfully, “Will you let me make you feel good, sweetheart?”

Your insecurities make you hesitate—but your need for him is bigger than your fears, it’s bigger than the anxieties that stem from your lack of experience. Pulling away, you meet his gaze and nod. “Please.”

Joel drops down to one knee in front of you. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic band of your shorts and slides them down your legs along with your cotton panties. He carefully frees one of your ankles from the articles of clothing and proceeds to drape your leg over his shoulder. He peppers a trail of soft kisses along the inside of your thigh, his beard scratching at the tender flesh there. As he draws closer and closer to where where he’s aching to be, the tip of his nose brushes lightly against your cunt and he groans your name quietly underneath his breath. He’s already intoxicated—if the scent of your sex is this fucking sweet, he’s willing to bet his life that the taste of you is going to be something beyond his wildest imagination.

You don’t trust yourself not to collapse on top of him. Reaching behind yourself, you grip the railing and your fingers claw at the wood, running the risk of painful splinters. But you don’t even think about that. You can’t think about anything except Joel Miller being on his knees in front of you.

He glances up at you and asks, “You sure ‘bout this, baby?”

“Yes,” you reply, already breathless. “I’m sure.”

He spreads your legs further and moves his head to the apex of your thighs, his mouth, hungry and searing, meeting your cunt. Nose buried in tufts of damp, silky soft curls, Joel slips his tongue between your glistening folds, flattening it out as he slowly drags it forward, savoring the taste of your slick. One of your hands abandons the railing and buries itself into his hair, your fingernails lighty scraping at his scalp. Your knee shakes and you fight to keep yourself upright, but with the way Joel’s ravishing your pussy, it’s only a matter of time before he brings you down. He moans into you, devours you like a man starved—a man who wouldn’t dare leave any part of you not licked, not sucked, not kissed. He swallows everything you have to offer him, drinks it down like it’s water.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, hearing the audible slurping coming from underneath you. It’s a sheer pleasure you’ve never experienced before—a pleasure you didn’t even know was possible. You’d never been touched like this before. Tasted like this before. 

Joel wraps his lips around your clit, taking extra care to give plenty of his attention to the swollen bundle of nerves as he slides two thick fingers into your pussy, stretching your walls.

“Fuck—Joel,” you whisper, willing yourself not to be too loud. He begins thrusting them in and out of you, gradually increasing his pace until the squelching sound of him finger fucking you breaks the calm, quiet silence of the night. All the while, his mouth remains latched onto your clit. Combined with the strokes of his fingers, the way they hit that soft, sensitive spongy spot inside your cunt, you’re approaching a release you’ve only ever give yourself when you were home alone. “God, that feels so fucking good, Joel. Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop—”

And he doesn’t.

As desperate as you are, his own desperation tops it.

You’re dripping around his fingers, wetness slowly trickling down the palm of his hand, dribbling down to his wrist. Joel keeps his pace, but his tongue flattens over your clit in firm, broad strokes. He lifts his other arm and hooks it around your trembling thigh, holding you firmly in place as your body involuntarily tries squirming away from him. He keeps you right where he needs you, his face still buried in your cunt.

The pressure that’s been building between your hips nears its peak—there isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching for that sweet, sweet release. “Joel, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m so fucking close.”

He tears his mouth away from you and looks up, whispering, “C’mon, baby. C’mon. Come for me,” he whispers hoarsely. “Wanna feel this sweet little pussy squeeze my fingers.”

You sink your teeth hard into your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying out his name. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, feels different than the orgasms you’d give yourself, better than the orgasms you would give yourself—after coming on his fingers, coming on your own won’t ever be the same. The muscles in your stomach tense, and then an explosion follows, sending you tumbling over the edge as you fall apart right in the palm of his hand. He slows his pace as he helps you right through the tumultuous wave of pleasure that crashes over you.

Unable to hold yourself steady any longer, you feel the leg that’s supporting your weight buckle and if it wasn’t for Joel’s hands flying to your hips, you would have collapsed to the floor.

“S’alright baby, I got you,” he reassures as he holds you up. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Joel feathers his last few kisses on the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of burning fire behind in his wake. He then pulls your underwear and shorts up your legs back into place before rising to his feet with a small, labored grunt. Taking you in his arms, he pulls your body flush against his as he kisses you, allowing you to get a taste of yourself on his lips. It’s foreign but intoxicating, and it makes you drip for him all over again.

As he holds you even closer, you feel his cock brush against your hip and you moan. You squeeze an arm between your bodies and eagerly cup him in the palm of your hand through his gray sweatpants, eliciting a groan from him as he licks into your mouth. He’s hard for you and all you want is to see him, taste him, feel him. 

Breaking away from his embrace, you start to sink down to your knees when his hands catch your shoulders and pull you back up to your feet.

“You ain’t gotta do that,” he whispers, tucking a loose lock of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t owe me anythin’ back, alright?”

“I know I don’t, but I want to,” you insist, batting your eyelashes. Tugging your lip between your teeth, you give him an innocent face that almost makes him come on on the spot. “I really, really want to.”

Joel takes your hands in his. “I believe you, peach. I do. But tonight, all I wanted—all I needed was to take care of you. Make you feel good. That’s it. We can worry ‘bout me another night.”

Another night. It takes you a minute to realize what he means. 

He wants to keep seeing you. Like this.

In secret. In the dead of night, when nobody else is around.

You glance up at him, lips parted slightly in surprise. Then, your eyes flicker down to your hands, still in his, your stomach sinking when your wedding band gleams in the moonlight, garnering your attention. It’s not because you feel guilty, but rather, it’s only a frustrating reminder that you belong to Luke. He would never set you free, not in this lifetime. He’d rather see you six feet under the ground than allow you to end your marriage.

Stolen moments and clandestine meetings in the middle of the night were all you could ever have with Joel Miller.

The man you’re falling for too hard, too fast.

Joel’s thinking the same. He’s not an idiot. He knows that you’re not happy in your marriage, but even so, there’s not a chance in hell Luke’s going to be willing to let you go—much less to be with another man. He remembers the night at the party, the way Luke held you possessively, marked his territory and made it known you’re his. Not his wife, but his property.

He hooks an index finger underneath your chin, bringing your eyes back up to meet his. “Need to ask you somethin’ and I’m gonna need you to be real honest with me, darlin’. Alright?”

Nervously, you nod. “Okay,” you reply, tentatively. “What is it?”

“He ever hurt you, sweet girl?”

A chill runs down the length of your spine. In the steadiest voice you can muster, you ask, “What are you talking about, Joel?”

He clocks the way you stiffen, feels your discomfort. “Luke. He ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Your throat goes dry like sandpaper.

Does he know something? 

No, that’s impossible. 

He’d only ever seen you with Luke once.

“No, of course not,” you lie to him, furiously shaking your head. “We do fight a lot, but he’s never gotten physical with me.”

Suspicious, Joel peers at you. “You tellin’ me the truth, peach?”

No, I’m not! I’m trapped in a fucking nightmare of a marriage and I can’t do anything about it.

You want to take him by his shirt, curl it in your fists and shout it in his face. There isn’t a single part of you that doesn’t want to confess everything to him, tell him about the hell Luke’s been putting you through since your father passed away. But you know better than that. You know that if Joel ever finds out, he’ll go straight to Tommy and Maria

Or worse.

He’ll go straight to Luke himself.

After everything Ellie had told you about him from their journey across the country, you now have a clear idea of just what Joel Miller is capable of, the lengths he would go to just to protect the people he cares about.

“I am,” you finally answer, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m telling the truth. I swear.”

You can see it. Feel it. 

Joel doesn’t believe you.

Without an admission, though, he doesn’t have much choice but to nod his head, accepting the lie. “Alright.”

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” you mumble, taking your hands out of his. You place them on his chest and look up at him through the thickness of your eyelashes. “We might not always get a lot of alone time together, Joel. So what little time we do get together, I don’t want to waste a single second of it by talking about him. Okay?”

Joel wraps his arms around your waist. “Okay,” he agrees with another nod. 

Something tells him that you’re protecting Luke and he doesn’t know why. 

But there is one thing that he does know. 

If he ever catches wind of what Luke is doing to you behind closed door, Joel’s going to fucking kill him.