#you flyin baby

[arrowfleur]

I feel like Tank would probably body slam you into the ground on instinct if you touched them without warning

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 2: Paradise

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: It's your first day in paradise and, to your surprise, you get along with Joel much better than you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, implied age gap, alcohol and food consumption, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, fake relationship, slow burn, flirting, sexual tension

WC: 10.1K

Series Masterlist

It was way too early. You hardly managed to get any sleep the night before, the excitement for what was to come too much for you to fully relax. You kept getting out of bed to look through your bag, wondering if you packed enough or forgot anything.

Joel had insisted you only needed to bring personal effects and essentials. You had given him your measurements once all the papers were signed and he sent an assistant on a shopping spree to buy you all new clothes and accessories based on the activities and events he knew you would be partaking in. He didn't bother to ask what your own personal style was like, if there were certain colors or clothes you preferred, because you were playing a part. You were his fiancée, someone who would enjoy the finer things in life and not care about comfort over style.

But just to be safe, you packed a few clothes of your own with your toiletries, books, makeup, hair products, and other odds and ends you kept shoving into your bag, thinking what's the harm?

Joel was waiting outside your apartment at three in the morning sharp, right when he told you he would in a sleek, black town car. You groggily stumbled down the steps, hauling your worn out duffel bag over one shoulder and your purse on the other. Joel's driver appeared out of nowhere, startling you when he put a hand on your shoulder to take your bag.

"Thank you," you told him softly, the stillness of the night making you feel like you shouldn't speak any louder. He just nodded and opened the back door, your bag clutched in his other hand, and you slid inside.

Joel didn't even spare you a glance. He looked down at his phone, his thumbs typing out some mile long email as you got situated next to him and buckled your seat belt.

"Thought I told you not to bring much."

"Good morning to you, too," you replied. He sighed and finally looked up from his phone.

"Mornin'. My assistant bought you everythin' you'd need."

You shrugged as Joel's driver pulled away from the curb. "I wanted some of my own things."

Joel didn't reply. He just went back to his phone while you closed your eyes and slid down further into the soft leather seat.

"How long is the flight?" you asked with your head resting against the tinted window, watching the dark, sleeping buildings pass you by.

"Thirteen or fourteen hours."

Ouch.

"That's a long time," you replied with a yawn. Joel paused his tapping on his phone to look at you.

"You can sleep on the plane, but I wanna review our backstory before we land."

"I'll try, but I've never been able to sleep the way you're practically sitting upright on a plane."

Joel frowned. "There's a bed."

You whipped your head in his direction as the driver began to get closer to the airport, the bright lights from the parking lots and runways filling the front seat of the car.

"A bed?"

"Yeah, a bed. The hell you think this is? I ain't flyin' commercial."

Your jaw dropped when the car drove past the departures exit and continued on towards the runway.

"Are we flying private?"

"'Course we're flyin' private."

You continued to stare through the front window as Joel's driver slowed down to a stop, rolling his window down when he reached a barrier to speak with a man in an orange vest inside a booth. Then the arm went up and the car continued on its way, excitement coursing through your veins as he drove down the runway, past a handful of other private jets either being boarded or refueling.

A squeal slipped past your lips when the car stopped in front of your plane and Joel looked at you once again, unamused.

"Get it outta your system now 'cause when we get there, you gotta act like this is your lifestyle. No slip ups, y'hear me?" Joel warned, but even his grumpy tone couldn't spoil your mood now.

"Yeah, yeah," you said dismissively before practically jumping out of the car when Joel's driver opened the door for you. You thanked him and danced from foot to foot, waiting for Joel to get out so he could lead you to the plane. He pocketed his phone and stretched an arm out, silently requesting you join him by his side.

"Oh, it's starting already?" you asked as you approached the plane. The pilot and two flight attendants stood next to the bottom of the stairs with wide smiles and their hands clasped obediently at their waists.

"No, just bein' courteous."

You raised an eyebrow at him and grinned when he rolled his eyes.

"Good morning," the pilot said as you got closer and reached out to shake Joel's hand. One of the flight attendants nodded to you both and ascended the stairs so you could follow her. Once you got to the top, what you saw took your breath away.

The body of the plane housed several oversized chairs peppered around two long, curved couches, and as you walked by and ran your fingertips along one of the beige cushions, the fabric felt smooth as butter. Strolling right past the glass desk already fitted with a laptop, you gawked at the big screen TV against one of the walls, which was displaying various snapshots of what you assumed to be the Fiji islands.

"Wow," you breathed as you tilted your head back to admire the lights that adorned the ceiling. They were dimmed but along the middle of the ceiling was a string of red LED lights that cast the furniture in a hauntingly beautiful glow.

"Back there's the bedroom," Joel told you gruffly. You swiveled around to see he was pointing past the main living space to a small area with a closed door. "Bathroom', too."

"This is beautiful. Do you own it?"

He nodded and picked one of the chairs to settle in, but you couldn't stop looking at all the amenities. Purple orchids sat securely to each side table and along the back wall was a narrow counter with fresh fruit, bottles of water and juice, and baked goods. Popping a grape in your mouth, you continued to examine the inside of the plane while the flight crew got everything situated for takeoff.

"This is the softest blanket ever," you told Joel when you picked up a beautiful white blanket from the back of a chair. His eyes flickered over to you briefly before focusing back on his phone. Once the stairs were brought up and locked, you picked a chair opposite from Joel and buckled yourself in, wrapping the blanket around yourself giddily in the process. He gave you another look but you just grinned.

"C'mon, lighten up. Nothing bad is going to happen if you let yourself enjoy something."

"I enjoy plenty," was all he said in response. You sighed and stared dreamily out the window as the plane began to depart.

The sun hadn't even begun to rise so once you were up high enough and all you could see was black out the window, you slid the shade closed and settled deeper into the chair.

"Thought you were gonna sleep," Joel said without looking up from the laptop he had brought over from the desk.

"Can't now. Too excited."

He narrowed his eyes at you before sighing and glancing over his shoulder, confirming the flight crew was busy and not eavesdropping. He then closed the laptop and tucked his hand into the inside pocket of his blazer, pulling out a small, blue box you only ever saw in magazine ads or movies.

"Here," he said, opening the box to show you a radiant oval shaped diamond so big you could probably see it from space.

"Holy shit," you whispered, reaching an arm out from under your blanket to nervously touch the ring.

"Don't get too excited, it's just on loan."

"Still," you muttered, "I've never seen a diamond like this in real life before."

You gulped when he took your left hand and carefully slid the ring over your finger. He gently tested it, giving it a little tug to make sure it fit before withdrawing his hand. The circumstances weren't exactly what you imagined when you were little and a man slid a ring on your finger for the first time, but what the hell? A lot of things didn't work out the way you expected in life.

"It suits you."

"Another errand for your assistant?" you joked, using the pad of your thumb to twirl the gold band around your finger, getting used to the feel. The corner of his mouth twitched and he quickly rubbed two fingers over his lips, then cleared his throat.

"Suppose we can go over our cover story, then," he said, changing the subject. You dropped your hand to your lap and tried not to play with the ring.

"Okay."

"We met at an art gallery two years ago. We'll say a mutual friend was havin' a show and we first bumped into each other in front of the same piece. I noticed how taken you were with it so I bought it for you as a surprise. When it was delivered, you reached out to the artist for my number, and the rest is history." He told the story stiffly, in one long breath as if he had rehearsed it. When he finished, he fiddled with the sleeve of his blazer, waiting for you to comment.

"What kind of piece was it?"

His eyes snapped up to yours and he tilted his head.

"Why does that matter?"

"It matters because it's how we first met, Joel. This one piece of art will forever bond us. It will be talked about at our wedding and, on our anniversary, you'll commission the artist to make a new piece, inspired by the original, just for me. We'll hang them above our bed and one day our children will hang them in their own homes. They'll tell everyone who comes to their house the story of the paintings and our love. That's why it matters."

Joel stared blankly at you for a long moment and you feared you might have gone too far and pissed him off but, surprisingly, he leaned back in his seat with a low whistle and shook his head.

"Goddamn, that's... that's good."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," he said, rubbing his chin in thought, not bothering to hide his smirk now.

"Abstract expressionism," he eventually said. "Something in the vein of Kooning. We'll say the title of the work is Red 42 and I got into a biddin' war with 'nother buyer but I would stop at nothin' to get it for you so I ended up spendin' twice what it's worth."

"How romantic," you grinned.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart," he replied, making you giggle as the flight crew began to enter the cabin with warm towels and a tray of beverages. You accepted a bottle of water with a small smile of thanks while Joel just waved them off.

"Okay, so what else? Shouldn't I know about your family, at least?"

Joel shot you a stern look and you dropped your gaze. For whatever reason, he seemed particularly sensitive about sharing anything personal with you.

"It won't come up," was all he said.

"Okay..." you said slowly, picking at the plastic label on your water bottle. "Well, tell me about work, then. How you got started, how you became so successful. All that stuff."

"Stuff?" Joel repeated with his eyebrows raised. You shrugged.

"Yeah. Stuff."

He sighed and looked out his window and for a moment, you thought he wasn't going to share anything about that part of his life, either, until he spoke again.

"One of my first jobs was a doorman at the Ritz in New York. I didn't have any experience but I had a nice smile and I knew how to use my charm when I had to, so I did well."

You had to bite back a remark about his smile, not wanting to interrupt him, but instead filed it away to wonder later where that smile went.

"I had odd jobs here and there, waitin' tables, tendin' bar, the usual, but I really loved workin' at the hotel. It felt like... like I finally belonged. I liked talkin' to important guests. I liked it when they'd remember my name and tip me well when I told 'em a good joke or helped 'em out with directions or whatever." He scratched his chin, still staring out the window. "But I made the mistake of thinkin' I was one of them. Y'know?" His eyes flashed to yours and you just nodded.

"Well, anyway. I wasn't. I was poor. I didn't go to college. I didn't have connections. I had nothin' but this fantasy that I belonged with these people and one day I just decided to do somethin' 'bout it."

"What did you do?" you asked softly, unknowingly leaning forward in your seat.

"I convinced the general manager of the hotel to take me under his wing. Help teach me more 'bout the hospitality industry. All the little tips and tricks, y'know? Like, pretendin' to offer an unhappy guest somethin' for free when it was already free with their stay. Offer 'em vouchers to use at the hotel restaurants. Not enough to cover their bill but enough to make 'em happy. That kinda thing."

You nodded along, mesmerized by the distant look in Joel's eye and the small smile tugging at his lips as he spoke.

"So, one day, I come to find out that general manager who mentored me was doin' some under the table shit. Any time someone famous would stay, he'd tip off the right people and get a decent buck. He figured the hotel wins 'cause it gets publicity, and he wins 'cause he's gettin' paid, right? Well, the owner didn't see it that way." Joel readjusted in his seat and you realized in that moment that it was the most he ever spoken to you at once.

"The owner didn't like that the paparazzi would be houndin' his guests. Made them wanna stay elsewhere. So, he got a memo one day 'bout who was tippin' off the paps and suddenly, that general manager job was open, and I got it."

You blinked slowly, replaying what he just said before you opened your mouth to reply.

"You got your manager fired and took his job?"

Joel chuckled dryly. "He did it to himself. I just saw an opportunity and took it."

"Okay..." you said, deciding to move past it. "Then what?"

"Spent several years as the GM at the Ritz, then the Plaza, til I realized I was thirty and had already made it as far as I could workin' for other men. A hotel off Fifth was goin' bankrupt, so I bought it with a couple other investors. My - I knew someone in construction, got a good deal on alotta materials and such, refurbished the entire spot, rebranded it and... The Parador was born."

"You did all this when you were thirty?"

Joel shrugged as if it were nothing but you could see the pride in his eyes. "Thirty-two when the first hotel opened."

"Whoa," you breathed while rubbing your eyes. You could see the sun beginning to break through the clouds in Joel's window. "That's so impressive, Joel. That's, like, a real rags to riches story."

He picked his phone up and tried to hide his pleased expression. "Why don't you go get some sleep? Gonna be a long flight 'n you should be well-rested when we get there."

You nodded and yawned behind your hand. "Are you sure you don't want to use the bed first?" you asked, but you were already standing up. He shook his head and motioned to his phone and laptop.

"I got work to do."

You wandered to the back of the plane and pushed open the door to the bedroom with a surprisingly decent sized bed. You weren't sure if you were just over tired or the mattress really was the most comfortable thing you'd ever laid on because within ten minutes, you were out like a light.

With the time change, you couldn't be sure how long you slept, but when you awoke and cracked the shade to peer out through the clouds, the sun was high in the sky over the ocean. The sunlight reflected off the massive rock on your left hand and you took another moment to admire it before dragging yourself out of bed.

When you tiptoed back out into the cabin, your eyes immediately found Joel. He was standing up with his back to you with his cell phone clutched in his hands. You let your eyes travel lower and you realized at some point he had changed into a perfectly tailored, navy blue suit.

"Isn't it going to be hot when we land?" you asked. You didn't know much about Fiji but in the past week you did remember to check the weather, and from what you saw, the temperature was supposed to be hot and humid.

Joel swiveled around in surprise when he heard your voice, his gaze dropping down your frame and suddenly you felt incredibly underdressed in your baggy shirt and leggings.

"Don't matter. I'm here on business, I ain't here for a vacation," he reminded you, as if you somehow could have forgot. "There's a couple things hangin' in the closet for you. Go pick one out and change, then we can eat." He turned back around to focus on his phone and you frowned. You weren't used to someone bossing you around like he was prone to doing but you had to remind yourself you were being paid to be there and do a job. Without complaint, you slipped back into the bedroom and shut the door before opening what you assumed was the closet to review your choices.

Your eyes widened when you saw the sampling of clothes hung up for you. The labels read names of designers you only ever saw people in TV or magazines wear, and occasionally, Celine. Your fingers gently dragged over the soft fabrics, then pulled each item out to hold it against yourself, trying to decide before finally choosing a light blue halter dress that fell perfectly at your knee and laid it on the bed.

Next, you opened a drawer, thinking there would be purses or sunglasses, then blushed when you were faced with matching sets of lace lingerie. You remembered Joel insisted sex wasn't part of the deal, and you even signed a contract stating such, but why would he buy you such fancy underwear if he didn't expect to see it? And why was the prospect of him seeing it getting you excited?

You closed the drawer, deciding to use your own underwear, then continued to explore the rest of the dresser. You found a small purse that looked like it would pair well with the dress, as well as a small bag of toiletries and a hair brush. Once you were dressed, you sifted through the bag. Should you wear a full face of makeup? What do rich people do? Probably get enough facial peels and cosmetic surgeries so they wouldn't need makeup. Remembering the temperature forecast, you decided on some tinted moisturizer and one coat of mascara. You dabbed on some expensive looking lip balm with the pad of your middle finger before brushing your hair. It was a little flat from the nap, so you rummaged around the other drawers but had no luck finding a curling iron. Luckily, you remembered to pack one.

You opened the bedroom door and walked back out into the cabin, your eyes trailing all over as you went, looking for your bag.

"Joel?" you asked, and he dragged his attention from his laptop. When his dark eyes landed on you, his shoulders stiffened, then his gaze slowly raked up and down your body, taking in your new look. Your breath hitched in your throat under his scrutiny and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

"Do you know where my bag is?" you asked, hoping he didn't hear the nervousness in your voice from the way he was looking at you.

"Hmm?"

"My bag? I need my curling iron."

He swallowed and forced his eyes back up to your face. "Under the couch, but your hair looks fine."

You leaned forward a bit and saw the strap of your bag under the couch, just as he said. "No, it's flat, I need to -"

"It's not flat. You look beautiful."

Beautiful? That was a big jump from fine.

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the bag, wondering if you should obey. Ultimately, you chose to forget the curling iron and sat down across from him. He didn't give you the impression he was the type of guy who blew smoke up your ass, so if he thought you looked good - beautiful - then you did.

"Do you prefer pasta or salad?" Joel asked when he spotted one of the flight crew waltzing up behind you with a smile and a pad of paper in her hand.

"Uh, whatever you're having is fine," you replied. Joel nodded and ordered chicken salads with sparkling waters for you both and the attendant disappeared back into the galley.

"When do we land?" you asked, jostling your arm and holding it up. The dainty gold watch you found in one of the drawers slid around your wrist so you could check the time.

"Couple more hours. Glenn's supposed to meet us at the airport and give us a tour of the island before droppin' us off at our hotel. Then the plan is to meet him for dinner, 'long with all the others, I imagine."

"You mean, the other hotel moguls?" you asked, and he nodded. "Do you know them?"

"Most of 'em. There ain't much real estate left on these islands so I'm willin' to bet we'll see some heavy hitters."

Lunch arrived and you didn't realize how hungry you were until you smelled the chicken and your mouth began to water. When you took your first bite, you let out a little moan and rolled your eyes.

"This is the best airplane food I've ever had," you said, hiding your mouth behind your hand. Joel chuckled and took a bite of his own salad before swallowing and wiping the corner of his mouth.

"So, you like workin' for a production company?"

You glanced up at him in surprise. For some reason, you weren't expecting him to inquire much about your real life during this trip.

"Uh, yeah. It was fun, I got to meet interesting people. It was exciting to see how movies and TV shows get made. I kind of always wanted to work for a talent agency, though," you confessed before stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork and popping it into your mouth.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

His elbows were propped on the table between you, hands cupped together with his fork in between, dangling over his plate and giving you his full attention. His eye contact was intense and it made you nervous.

"I like the idea of getting to know someone well enough to understand the types of projects they would be good in while also finding a way to make a difference in their lives. Help them achieve their dreams, you know?" You gave him a shy smile, watching as he absorbed what you said.

"I can see you bein' good at that," he said after a moment.

"You're just saying that. You hardly know me," you replied before continuing to pick at your lunch.

"True, I don't know you that well, but I got a knack for readin' people. You're quick on your feet and you're a good listener. You don't let people steamroll you and you know your worth. And, you don't quit. You're determined. Probably to a fault." He stared at you, watching your face as you worked through several emotions at once before you slowly swallowed the food in your mouth and cleared your throat.

"You got all that from the brief amount of time we've known each other?" you asked softly.

"Yep," he replied, fighting back a smirk. "How'd I do?"

You grinned and looked down at your half eaten salad, trying to hide the embarrassment from your eyes when you replied, "not bad, actually."

When you were finished with your lunch and a crew member came to collect your plates, Joel picked up his phone and it was then you realized he hadn't looked at it once the entire time you were eating.

"Do you ever sleep?"

His glanced up at you with an amused look. "Occasionally."

"Workaholic, then?"

"You tryin' to get a read on me now?"

"Maybe," you said, biting your lower lip playfully.

He shook his head and focused back on his phone.

"Good luck, sweetheart."

When the pilot announced he was getting ready to descend, your stomach started doing flips and your hands shook when you tightened your seatbelt. It seemed all the excitement you harbored before had quickly been replaced with anxiety. Taking a few deep breaths, you closed your eyes and tried to control your nerves, but Joel could see right through you.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just getting nervous."

"Why?"

You opened your eyes. "I'm worried they'll be able to tell I'm not like you. I don't know all of the trendy designers and artists. I don't know the names of the chefs at Michelin star restaurants and I can't tell the difference between boxed wine and a three hundred bottle of Merlot." The words suddenly came tumbling out as quickly as you were landing but you found it actually felt better to talk to him about it. "For all I know, this ring could be fake but I'd believe it's real because it's heavy and shiny."

"You don't gotta worry 'bout any of that. I'll handle it. You just smile and look pretty and pretend you're in love with me. That's all you gotta do, okay?" he said with a soft tone you hadn't heard from him yet. "And trust me, the ring is real."

You grinned and looked out the window, feeling a little better. At that point, the plane had dipped below the clouds and you could see the crystal clear ocean and the lush tropical islands below. You noted a few resorts you could see from your side of the plane but at the very end of the island was a massive piece of land covered in palm trees and other thick greenery.

"That's the spot," he said as if he were reading your mind. "That's the piece of land we're here to get."

You took a deep breath and recalibrated, shaking off the anxiety. Instead, you rehearsed your story in your head and mentally practiced your greeting and smile, boosting your confidence while the wheels of the plane touched down and you were jolted forward in your seat. The seatbelt dug into your hips and your fingers gripped the armrests while the plane slowed down and eventually came to a stop.

There was a fancy looking car on the tarmac and an older gentleman with a sizable belly and a full head of white hair standing next to it with his hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo shorts and sandals.

Cargo shorts? That couldn't be...

"Glenn," Joel murmured in your ear when he stood up behind you and peered through the window.

"That's the real estate guy?" you asked while he fixed his tie. He reached down and scooped up his wallet and phone with a nod and was about to head to the stairs when you stopped him with your hands on his shoulders. "Let me fix this," you said quietly, making sure the collar of his shirt wasn't stuck underneath his blazer. When you were satisfied, you ran your palms across his shoulders with a smile. "Let's go knock 'em dead, honey."

Joel rolled his eyes but before he turned away, you caught the wide smile stretched across his face. That's where it went, you thought.

"Glenn!" Joel's deep voice boomed from the stairs as he made his way down with you following closely behind. "How the hell have ya been?" he asked, extending an arm just for Glenn to grab it and pull him into a hug with a few slaps on the back.

"I've been great, Joel. Thrilled you could make it, I know you're a busy man and taking a month out of your schedule is tough," Glenn replied with a toothy smile. Then his eyes trailed over Joel's shoulder and he lit up when he spotted you approaching. "Oh, who's this?"

Joel turned around with a radiant smile that stunned you for a moment until you remembered it was probably all for show. He introduced you by name and ushered you forward, wrapping one arm around your shoulders lovingly while you stuck your arm out with a smile of your own to shake Glenn's hand. "This is my fiancée," Joel added, and it was impossible to miss the surprise on Glenn's face when he looked back at Joel.

"You're engaged?" he asked, the excitement evident in his tone. Joel grinned and nodded.

"Popped the question a few weeks back and she was crazy enough to say yes," he replied. This jovial version of Joel was throwing you off but you did your best to not give it much thought. Instead, you focused on your own little act: playing the smitten fiancée.

"It was on the beach in Santa Monica at sunset," you said, thrusting your left hand out for Glenn to look at your ring. He gave a low whistle and raised his eyebrows at Joel. "He knows I love the beach so much. I couldn't wait to come visit your beautiful island, I'm so excited to see it!" you gushed, wondering if you were laying it on too thick, but based on the sparkle in Glenn's eye, you were doing just fine.

"Well, come! Hop in and I'll take you around before dropping you off at The Greenview. Should only take an hour, then you can get settled in before dinner," Glenn said as he opened the backseat of the car for you to slide in. Joel followed after he gave his flight crew instructions on where to take your belongings and Glenn settled into the driver's seat with a grunt.

"How's Mary doin'?" Joel asked as Glenn pulled away from the tarmac.

"She's great, she'll be joining us tonight along with my boys."

"Joel mentioned you have six kids," you piped up and you saw Glenn nod his head.

"If there's one thing I've done right in my life, it's having those kids," he said warmly. You smiled, your nerves already put at ease. You were expecting an uptight, rich type, but Glenn seemed like the exact opposite. If it weren't for the expensive car, you never would have guessed he was wealthy.

"I can't wait to have kids of our own," you said dreamily, then risked a glance at Joel. He smirked and gently shook his head.

"You won't regret it. They'll take years off your life but, dammit, if it ain't worth it," Glenn said with a look at the two of you in his review mirror. "Maybe having a couple kids will loosen you up a bit, Joel. Don't tell me you brought suits to wear the whole time you're here."

Joel chuckled and took your hand in his. The touch surprised you given Glenn couldn't even see it from where he was sitting, but you enjoyed it all the same.

"Oh, you know me," was all he said, but Glenn tsked as he merged into traffic.

"It's way too hot for those kinda formalities. Tonight we're having dinner on the beach. You don't wanna get sand in those loafers, now, do ya?" Glenn teased. Joel chuckled and changed the subject while you gazed out the window, watching the cute little restaurants and stores fly by until the car turned and suddenly you had a fantastic view of the ocean.

"Oh, wow, look at the water," you breathed, squeezing Joel's hand. "I've never seen something so beautiful before," you added, unable to peel your eyes away from the white, sandy beaches and turquoise water. You heard Joel murmur in agreement next to you but you were too taken with the thick, tropical forests dotted with shocks of purples, pinks, yellows and whites from the hibiscus plants growing wild along the side of the road.

"I think island life will suit you," Glenn said from the front seat with a grin.

"I may never leave," you joked, making both men chuckle.

"Well, that settles it. You'll have to have the wedding here, Joel."

"Don't tempt me," he replied. You dragged your eyes away from your window to look at Joel, who gave you an appraising nod.

"I think she'll be good for you. Help you relax a bit," Glenn laughed before pointing out the restaurant where dinner will be held later that evening as he drove by.

"Guess we'll find out," Joel replied, his gaze lingering on you after you turned your attention back to the window.

Glenn dropped you off in front of a beautiful resort named The Greenview, which, like many other resorts you saw along the way, was built to blend in and mimic the exotic landscape around it. The main entrance was built like a tiki hut with a fake thatched conical shaped roof and rounded, wooden pillars complete with knots framing the exterior entrance. When you followed Joel through the doors, you found the inside was similarly designed. A beautiful waterfall feature was displayed prominently in the lobby and when you walked by, you spotted brightly colored koi fish in the small pond below.

Once Joel checked you in, a bellhop ushered you towards the elevator, explaining all of the amenities the hotel had to offer as he led you to your room.

"Here we are, the Dream House Villa," he announced before unlocking the door and holding it open so you could walk in first. You gasped at the stunning layout, barely registering anything the bellhop was saying. The decor, much like the rest of the hotel, was an island theme. The floors and walls were all made of wood, and the small foyer you first stepped into held a little waterfall feature with gorgeous mood lighting built in.

You remembered what Joel had told you about containing your excitement so you bit your tongue and waited until the bellhop left before you whipped around to Joel with a huge smile plastered across your face.

"Look! There's an infinity pool right outside!"

"I see," he replied, but he appeared distracted. Still, you continued to lavish praise about the ocean view and you mentally pictured yourself relaxing on the covered daybed outside with a frozen cocktail as soon as possible. When it became apparent Joel wasn't in the same mood, you dialed it back.

"I'm sure your hotels are much nicer," you offered, but he waved you off.

"I need new clothes," he grumbled. You frowned and wandered over to follow him into the master suite where he had flung open one of the closets to reveal mostly suits, just like Glenn had suspected. "I can't stick out, I gotta blend in and make myself more relatable. He's a lot more casual since the last time I saw him. I had no idea he turned into Jimmy fuckin' Buffet."

You chewed on your bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go shopping before dinner."

Joel groaned and rubbed his jaw. "My assistant usually does this kinda stuff."

"That's okay, I can help," you assured him. "It'll be fun. I saw a bunch of places on the way here we could check out."

Joel seemed to consider it for a moment before he sighed and shrugged off his blazer. "Alright. Lemme change and I'll meet you out there in five."

You turned to leave but when he called your name, you spun back around. "Here, your bag," he said, holding it out for you to take. "The crew brought all our stuff in here, we can move your clothes to the other room later."

"Oh, right, thanks," you said, taking the bag. "I'll go check my room out while you're getting ready."

The second bedroom was easy enough to find as it was directly across the hall. Both rooms had an ocean view and although Joel had his own bathroom attached and a king sized bed, you would do just fine with the queen bed and a bathroom down the hall.

You dropped your bag on the oversized white comforter and wandered aimlessly around the room, opening and closing dressers and drawers until you noticed two flat circular buttons built into the end table next to your bed.

"Hm," you said to yourself before pressing the first one and jumping when you heard a soft whirring noise behind you. You laughed out loud when a television appeared from behind two wood panels in the wall, then pressed the next button and watched the blinds slowly close, blocking out all the natural light flooding the room.

"What're ya doin' in the dark?" Joel's low voice carried over from the door. You pressed the button again and the blinds went back up.

"Just checking things out. Ready to go?" you asked, your gaze traveling down to take in his new outfit: a white polo shirt and khaki shorts.

"Yeah. Good thing I packed my golf clothes."

You followed him out of the room and through the rest of the villa. "You golf?"

"Yeah, but I hate it. Only came prepared 'cause I know Glenn likes to golf."

"You might be the first millionaire who hates golf," you teased when you walked by him as he held the door open for you. He grinned and made sure the door was shut tight before falling in step beside you.

"I don't mind the drinkin' part afterwards," he replied, then gently placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you into the open elevator car. You stood in a comfortable silence while the elevator took you back down to the lobby and you waited off to the side while Joel went to the front desk to request a car.

"You sure you know what you're doin'? You know anythin' 'bout fashion?" Joel asked once you settled into the backseat of a town car and he had given the driver instructions to take you to the nearest shopping plaza.

"Not really, but I saw what Glenn was wearing. I'm sure we can find some good options."

He hummed and nodded before slipping on his sunglasses and looking out the window, effectively ending the conversation. You decided to use that time to pull out your phone and text Celine, letting her know you arrived safely.

Don't forget to send me pics!

How are things with Joel? Is it awkward?

You glanced over at him, making sure he couldn't see over your shoulder before replying.

Actually things are pretty good

He's not so bad once you get to know him

You rolled your eyes when Celine's next message came through.

Remember - you're only pretending to be his fiancée ;)

Then again, if I had a daddy who looked like him, I would try to make that fantasy a reality lol

The car pulled over and came to a stop in front of a strip of shops along a quaint looking road so you quickly told Celine you would check in with her later before the driver opened your door and you slid out, patting down your dress and looking around.

"Let's try there," you said once he joined you at your side. You pointed to a store a few doors down from where the car was parked. Inside the window, you could see male mannequins sporting trendy looking beachware.

When you opened the door, you were greeted with beautiful island music filtering through the speakers. The walls were painted a deep shade of blue, most likely chosen because of the resemblance to the water, and a hand painted mural of a beach with the sun glittering off the ocean was painted behind the register.

You began to sift through the nearest rack, pulling out various linen button downs and crochet shirts after confirming his size. Joel wandered deeper into the store to look at pants while you examined each article of clothing carefully. You were trying to decide if Joel could pull off bright purple when a young woman with big hoop earrings and a loose fitting paisley dress approached with a smile.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

You gave her a cheesy grin and held up the shirts draped over your arm. "I'm shopping for my fiancé. We just arrived and the airport lost his luggage, can you believe it?" You gave her a devestated look which she sympathetically mirrored and stretched her arms out.

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that! Let me take those into a fitting room for you."

"Thank you so much, I'll find him and bring him right back."

You watched her sashay to the back of the store with the armful of shirts you had picked out before turning around just to find Joel standing on the other side of the rack.

"You're good at this," Joel said, sounding astonished.

"Good at what?" you asked.

"You're good at thinkin' on your feet and comin' up with these stories." He rounded the rack and, with a little smirk, gently pinched your chin affectionately between his thumb and forefinger. It happened so fast you didn't even have time to register it before he was walking in the direction of the fitting rooms with some shorts and pants slung over his shoulder. Trailing after him, you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest, telling yourself his touch just took you by surprise and that's all it was.

You sat in a whicker chair outside Joel's fitting room, one leg crossed over the other as you fondled the ring on your finger and listened to Joel muttering under his breath on the other side of the door.

"Are you ever going to come out of there?" you asked. He shuffled around the room and swung the door open with a deep sigh.

"I don't know 'bout some of these shirts," he said, eyes flickering to a bunch hung up separately from the rest. "The neckline's too low, I don't wear stuff like that."

"Oh, come on! At least let me see what they look like on," you begged. "I like what you have on now," you added, pointing to the light blue linen shirt and relaxed fit khakis.

"Yeah, this ain't bad," he agreed, tugging on the material a bit before shutting the door. "I'll try one of these on and that's it," he called out. You could hear the rustling of fabric and the metal scratch of a zipper and you grinned at how easily the two of you fell into these roles you were playing.

When he opened the door a few minutes later, you were completely unprepared. He had chosen to pair a green crochet top with a pair of white shorts that fell right above his knee but your eyes were glued to the generous amount of smooth, tanned chest that was exposed from the plunging V neck.

Your lips parted as you continued to stare, watching the way the muscles and tendons in his neck twitched as he spoke. Shit, he was speaking and you had no idea what he said.

"Huh?"

Joel frowned. "I said, this ain't my style. At all. I look ridiculous."

"No, you do not look ridiculous, you look good," you immediately argued.

"I'm too old for-"

"No, Joel, listen to me: you look really fucking hot," you blurted out, still staring at his bronze chest. He fell silent and a moment later, you realized what you said and felt your cheeks flare with heat. Snapping your eyes up to his, you began to apologize.

"I'm sorry, that was probably inappropriate, Jesus Christ," you muttered, pressing the palms of your hands against your cheeks to hide your embarrassment, but he just chuckled and dropped his gaze to the floor. When he turned around to close the door, you noticed in the mirror his own cheeks were beginning to stain pink from the compliment.

Joel didn't say anything else about your comment but he ended up buying all the clothes you picked out for him. When you saw the V neck shirts being rung up, he shot you a wink. You grinned and shyly looked away, once again ignoring that excited feeling in your chest.

"Hope this dinner ends quick, I'm fuckin' beat," Joel grumbled at your side as he led you up to the host stand, one hand wrapped around the inside of his elbow and the other clutching a small, blue purse that matched the backless floor length dress you chose with blue palm leaves printed all over.

"You should have slept on the plane," you murmured, then gave the host a bright smile as Joel told him Glenn's name. He quickly ushered you through the restaurant and onto the beach, where a long table was set up and decorated with vibrant, gorgeous tropical flowers.

The seats were already filled by the other guests, who were sitting and leaning across the table to chat and laugh with drinks in hand.

"Alright, here we go," Joel told you before taking a deep breath and forcing a big smile and wave when one of the men caught his eye.

"Scott! It's been years!" he exclaimed. You smiled and loosened your grip so Joel could give the other man a welcoming hug.

After ten minutes of introductions, your head was spinning. You decided to keep it to one alcoholic drink that evening because you needed to keep a clear head and memorize who the people were that you were up against. Scott and his wife Tammy owned a chain of hotels in the northeast and appeared to be a little older than Joel. Harry owned a handful of exotic resorts mostly in Latin America but was looking to expand. He was accompanied by his husband, Ian, who was an artist. Jack and Lynne had a large footprint of three star hotels across America but as Joel told you later, their hotels lacked character. And finally, Zachary owned a string of hotels similar to The Parador but had a French motif. Zachary brought along his much younger girlfriend, Zoe, who seemed incredibly sweet.

"Down at the end, those two younger guys? They're Glenn's boys. The ones that'll take over for him when he retires," Joel said, jutting his chin in their direction. You casually glanced down the table and saw two men in their late twenties on either side of Glenn and his wife, Mary. You could see the family resemblance in their faces but one had dark, almost black hair, and the other's hair was dirty blonde.

"What are their names?"

"The blonde's Trevor, the other one's Brooks."

"Trevor and Brooks," you repeated softly to yourself, silently testing your memory as you went down the table, naming each person in your head as you went. Joel watched you for a moment before he leaned in.

"You're doin' great, don't worry."

You flashed him a smile and whispered your thanks right as the first course arrived.

For a majority of the meal, you smiled and laughed at the right times while you listened to rich people tell stories about their conflicts with private schools or run-ins with government officials, stories that made the conversations you have with your friends over dinner sound like they took place in a third grade cafeteria. Joel also remained relatively quiet with the exception of tossing in a quick comment here or there to be polite but when you looked at him, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. It was no wonder he wasn't prepared when Glenn and Mary, who had just gotten done telling the table how they met in high school, asked to hear how all the couples met.

Great, you thought to yourself. We rehearsed this, it will be fine.

Scott went first, telling a funny and cute story about how he met Tammy in college. He had walked into the wrong class and he was too embarrassed to leave so he sat through a three hour lecture on women's studies. It only took him thirty minutes to realize he was the only man in the room and Tammy found his humility endearing. The rest was history.

Glenn and Mary exchanged warm glances at the story, gushing over them and saying words like fate and soulmate.

Next, Zachary began to boast about how he met Zoe, and the look on Glenn and Mary's faces slowly changed.

"It was opening night for The Barber of Seville. I had just sat down in my seat when this beautiful thing came through the curtain, absolutely convinced we were sitting in her seat. I said, 'Darling, I've had the same box seats in this theater since before you were born,'" Zachary laughed and the rest of the table joined in but you noticed Glenn and Mary only gave him tight, polite smiles as he continued.

"Well, I was taken with her, I mean, can you blame me?" Zachary joked, tossing his arm around Zoe's shoulders. "I insisted she stay and enjoy the show. By the end of the evening I was chartering my private jet to whisk her off to Italy that very night..."

Zachary continued to tell the table about Italy and all the expensive restaurants he took her to when Joel leaned into your side.

"We can't go with our story."

You whipped your head around to look at him, eyes wide.

"What do you mean?" you asked, panic lacing your voice.

"It's too pretentious. Look at them, they hate every goddamn word," he said quietly, snaking his arm around your shoulders so it looked like he was maybe talking about the food or how beautiful you looked. "We can't tell some story about your looks and my wealth. It's gotta be, fuckin'... I don't know. Warm. Romantic." He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.

"I thought it was romantic..."

"Not enough."

"Okay, so what do we say?" you whispered.

"I don't know, I gotta think. Fuck," he grumbled, "I'm too fuckin' tired for this shit."

Unfortunately, Joel didn't have the luxury of time because Zachary finally finished up his long-winded story and Glenn's eyes landed on the two of you.

"Well, you told me how he proposed but we'd all love to hear how you first met," Glenn said, leaning forward, elbows pressed into the table with a sparkle in his eye. You glanced at Joel, your heart slamming wildly in your chest, and you knew immediately he couldn't think of anything new. He sighed and clenched his jaw before opening his mouth, about to launch into the only story you had talked about when you cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, let me tell it," you said lovingly. You could see the confusion in his eyes as they shifted back and forth between you and Glenn and he slowly nodded before you turned back to your host.

"Joel hired me," you began, dropping your hand from his shoulder. "I was a nobody. Hardly any experience but he took a chance and hired me to manage the floor staff at The Parador Los Angeles. I was so grateful for the job that I would stay late almost every night just to make sure everything was perfect for our guests." You shot Joel what you hoped was a loving glance before continuing with your bullshit story.

"One night, as I was walking down to my car, I ran into Joel on the elevator. He was surprised I was staying so late and I explained we had a wedding the next day and I wanted to make sure the wedding party's favors were all set. Each room was supposed to get a box of Belgium chocolates but they melted in transport so I ran out to get fresh ones. Anyway," you said with a little smile, acting as if you were getting lost in a memory. Glenn and Mary appeared more and more delighted with each word. "I think it impressed him because after that night, I saw him almost every day. He would walk across the floor and wouldn't say a word but I caught him looking at me once or twice. Then, I got a call one day at the front desk, and guess who it was."

"Joel?" Mary asked excitedly. You nodded and leaned into Joel's shoulder.

"He asked me to come up to his office. I couldn't decide if he was firing me or giving me a promotion, but turns out, it was neither. He asked me to dinner and do you remember what I said?" you asked, turning to face Joel with a sweet smile. He was giving you a look you couldn't quite read and you just hoped you were doing the right thing.

"Uh, I think-" he began, but you waved him off and turned back to Mary. Fuck it, you were in too deep now, anyway.

"I laughed. I laughed in his face! I didn't believe him! Why would someone like him want anything to do with someone like me? I didn't come from a wealthy family. I didn't have connections or anything to offer. But he picked me. And every day since, I wake up and ask myself," you turned your head to gaze up adoringly at Joel. "How did I get so lucky?"

He pinned you with an intense stare and, without hesitating, Joel pressed his lips against yours so softly it almost made you gasp. He tasted like the wine he had with dinner and the hairs from his mustache tickled your nose. You giggled and pulled away, but not before dragging the pad of your thumb over his lip to remove your lipstick that transferred.

"Oh, that's just the sweetest story! Isn't it, Glenn?" Mary gushed, grabbing onto his arm with a huge smile. You tore your eyes away from each other to look back down the table. "It's like something out of a movie or book!"

"Goddamn, Joel, I didn't realize you were such a romantic. Now I gotta step up my game over here," he joked before pinching Mary's chin.

Harry and Ian were next to tell their story but you weren't listening. Your pulse was racing and your hands shook in your lap as your adrenaline began to wear off. Then, Joel's hand slid over your thigh, giving your leg a little reassuring squeeze as if he could sense your nervousness.

"You did so good, sweetheart," he whispered in your ear, making your skin prickle.

He could have removed his hand after that. No one was looking, no one could even see, but he didn't. He kept it planted there as if he were grounding you to him. Occasionally, he would laugh at something one of the other guests said or take a sip of wine, but his hand remained steady under the table. The longer it stayed, the more it became the only thing you could focus on.

Once dinner wrapped up and everyone stood, his hand finally dropped and you instantly longed for his touch again. On the way back to the hotel, Joel took a work call, which you tuned out. Instead, you spent the time telling yourself it was the wine and the jet lag that had you feeling fuzzy and excited.

In the elevator on the way up to your room, once you had some privacy, Joel turned to you and quietly said your name. When you looked into his eyes, what you saw caused your breath catch in your throat. He was looking at you with a tenderness you didn't think he was capable of and it made you swallow nervously.

"How'd you come up with that story on the fly like that?" he asked, his features softening and gaze only dipping from your eyes to your lips once.

It didn't mean anything.

"I-I don't know, it just came to me, I guess," you replied a little breathlessly.

It looked like he was about to say something else when the elevator doors slid open. He pressed his hand against the side of the car to hold the doors while you stepped out into the hall. He fell in step beside you as you walked the short distance to your room in silence.

"Thank you," he managed to say once he opened the door, letting you both in.

You shrugged as if it were nothing but on the inside you were preening, excited that you had managed to please him. When you entered into this unusual situation, you had no idea what to expect or how to behave, but considering how well the first day went, maybe you overthought things.

"I'm sure the original story would have been fine, too."

He nodded and tossed the keycard on the table by the door before strolling into the kitchenette for two waters.

"Wouldn't've ruined my chances, most likely, but I think the new story put me a notch above good ol' Zach, at least," he said with a grin and handing you a bottle of water. You took it with a small thanks and awkwardly looked around the huge villa.

"Well, you should try to get some sleep now," you told him, turning just in time to catch the way his eyes flickered over the soft curves of your body.

With a tired sigh, he nodded in agreement. "'Bout to fall asleep standin' up," he joked, walking down the short hallway between your two rooms, the both of you coming to a stop outside your doors.

"Okay. Good night," you said, not wanting to prolong the tension that was building up since you left dinner.

"Night."

You opened your door and gave him a quick smile over your shoulder before disappearing inside your room. You leaned against the door and took a deep, steadying breath in, then pushed off before going deeper into your room.

Before dinner, the two of you had moved all your things into your closet and you had the foresight to toss a pair of pajamas on your bed before you left. Shimmying out of your second dress of the day, you slipped on the lavender cotton tank top and matching shorts before grabbing your bag of toiletries, but when you reopened your door to go to the bathroom, you were surprised to find Joel on the other side with his hand raised as if he were about to knock.

"Oh!" you gasped in surprise.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"It's okay, I didn't hear you."

He scratched his chin before pulling a white envelope out of his pocket and handing it to you.

"What's this?" you asked, taking it but not opening it.

"For you. For tonight. You did good, so..." he trailed off and stared at the plush carpet beneath his feet. Then it dawned on you what it was and your eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, you don't -"

"I want to. You were hired for a job and you did it well, so you deserve it."

Your gaze dropped to the envelope, flipping it over in your hand before nodding.

"It's my pleasure," you finally replied, throat a little tight. When your eyes met again, that little glimpse of the softer side to him was gone and the cold blooded business man you first met was back.

"Alright, then. G'night," he said abruptly, then turned on his heel and disappeared back into his bedroom.

After you washed up and got into bed, you scrolled on your phone for a bit before sighing and looking at the envelope of cash propped up against the lamp on your end table, acting as a glaring reminder of what you were hired to do.

So why did you feel so conflicted taking it?

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 30

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of afterbirth; Breastfeeding; Newborn bodily functions; Scars and allusions to past child abuse.

A/N: Fuck me sideways, I have struggled to write since all this shit in my personal life. This chapter is pretty boring but I guess there are some fluffy aspects. And Thumper gets a name.

The tiny creature that had just been shrieking in Hershel’s grasp, was now rooting around angrily while you studied every perfect little inch of her. Her skin was pink beneath the drying, waxy mess of vernix caseosa—or whatever Hershel had called it—and blood. The old man had said if he had to guess, he would put her at about six pounds. Hilarious since she felt like she weighed thirty while you carried her. 

Her round little face scrunched up before she wailed again, disturbed from her meal-seeking venture by Carol leaning around Daryl to drape a blanket over her. When you looked up to smile at him, you found the archer studying his baby like he wasn’t quite certain about something. 

“What is it?” You asked, moving the blanket a little so he could see her better. 

“S’just—” He reached toward the bundle but withdrew. “Feels like—feels like she ain’t real.” You could see the tears brimming on his waterline, crystal droplets shining beneath the pale yellow illuminance of the van’s interior overhead light; how he would squint instead of blink in an attempt to keep them from falling. 

“Daryl, you—ow.” You placed your hand on your lower abdomen, finding it tight within a cramp even if the skin itself was slightly looser. 

“Ow?” Daryl appeared panicked but was desperately trying to keep himself together. He wasn’t doing a very good job. It was so odd to see him constantly grappling for control over his emotions when he had always—for the time you’d known him—been so careful not to allow too much to show. 

The veterinarian checked the cord to find it no longer pulsing. The contractions you were having now were mild cramps compared to before, Hershel advising you that you would need to give up your hold on Thumper to deliver the afterbirth. The archer watched as you handed off Thumper to Maggie. You wondered if he even realized why you hadn’t given him a chance to hold his daughter yet. Regardless, it was immediately apparent he hadn’t been listening in the slightest—

“Just an easy push, Y/N.”

“Wait! What?!” Daryl shouted. Meanwhile, you were clenching your fists and bearing down. It wasn’t the worst pain but considering you had just pushed a tiny human out of the same opening, you were a tad bit sore.

“Good, good. I can see it. One more push.” 

Daryl’s hand wrapped around one of your fists. You uncurled your fingers and let his slip between them. “See what?! The fuck she pushin’ again for?” The archer gave no time for anyone to answer that particular question before he was crawling and leaning above the space between your knees—just in time for the placenta to exit your body while you groaned through the discomfort. “What the flyin’ blue fuck s’that?!”

“It’s alright, son.” 

“It’s okay, Daryl.” Carol repeated. 

The archer had gone white again, swaying slightly and swallowing convulsively while scooting back toward you on his ass. You tugged gently on his hand before anyone else could interfere. “Hey, tough guy. Look at her.” God, you were exhausted but keeping your partner grounded was your priority. He had a baby to meet. Daryl’s eyes shifted to you and then behind you to the infant over which Maggie was currently gushing.

“She’s perfect.” The elder Greene daughter chuckled through her own tears. 

The hunter stared at Thumper, the color slowly returning to his skin. “Rick!” He belted out suddenly. “We clear?”

“All clear for now.” The former deputy called back, even though there was little more than five feet separating them.

“Good. Stop.” 

“Stop?” Rick glanced back over his shoulder, once and then again. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Stop the van.” This time Daryl barked the command, growing irritated. He gently extricated his hand from yours, moved toward the door, and wrapped his fingers around the handle. It was obvious he was waiting for the vehicle to come to a halt.

“Daryl, what the hell are you doing?” You queried while trying to divide your attention between him and Thumper being placed back against your skin. The baby began to squeak, working up to another bout of shrill cries before you shifted her, trying your hand at offering up a breast without any guidance. When her tiny mouth latched onto your nipple immediately, you felt a tugging sensation, but no pain like you had actually expected. 

“You’re a natural!” Carol exclaimed through her own tears and sniffles. 

Before you could offer comfort while the other woman was obviously distraught—likely reminiscing of the times just after the birth of Sophia—the van jolted to a stop and Daryl was opening the door, jumping out with his bag and crossbow, and closing it before you could say a word. 

“What’s happening?” You sat up just a little, your eyes wide. “Where’s he going? Rick?”

“Stay still. Relax.” Maggie cooed, dragging a finger tenderly down Thumper’s cheek. “Let her nurse. I’m sure Daryl’s got his reasons.” You nodded even though you weren’t truly satisfied with the answer. You were just simply too exhausted to think about it any further. Carol started handing Maggie blankets to roll up behind you. “We’re gonna getcha all cleaned up and as comfortable as we can until we can find somewhere safer, okay?”

“Just wrap this up until Daryl gets back.” Hershel spoke softly, placing a bloody blob of something onto a large piece of cloth before handing it to Carol. The sac was connected to Thumper by the slimy cord. 

“Do you think he’ll want to?” The other woman whispered. Sight and sound were starting to fizzle out. Your body was demanding rest, all reserves depleted. Thumper was suckling away, making the sweetest little snorting breaths between gulps. Maggie was wiping the sweat from your face and neck, sweeping the fabric back and forth over every inch of skin she could reach.

Hershel and Carol worked together to clean up the mess between your legs, the area swollen and sore and thank god you were so exhausted or that would have really hurt. When you opened your eyes again, you were covered with a blanket and Thumper was gone from your chest. 

“Thumps?!” You bolted upright, caught halfway by Hershel’s gentle hands on your shoulders. 

“She’s fine. You were quite out of it when she finished. Maggie tried to burp her but breastfed newborns don’t always need it. Now she’s there with Carol, getting cleaned up the best we can without warm water. The vernix caseosa can stay on her skin until she can have a good warm bath. It won’t do any harm. We just thought she could do without the other fluids.”

You nodded tiredly. “How long did I sleep?”

“Only about half an hour.” Carol answered, shuffling on her knees with the baby in her arms. “Rick grabbed the diapers from the truck and checked on everyone. She’s such a tiny thing, the newborn size almost swallows her.” She pulled the blanket away to place the baby against your skin and then covered her again with the small receiving blanket. Once Thumper settled, Carol pulled the thicker blanket over both of you. 

You felt your expression light up—casting shadows over your exhaustion—at the sight of that little face. God, she was tiny. The lack of blood revealed wisps of blonde hair, still molded flat in some places by the waxy covering. You could already see so much of Daryl in her that it—

“Where’s Daryl?”

As if summoned by his name on your lips, the van door opened to reveal the archer, clearly shivering. He tossed his bag and crossbow to the side and climbed in, rubbing his hands up and down his sleeved arms. He was clean, his hair wet while the strands appeared damn near frozen. His dirty clothing—vest and poncho included—was missing, likely in his pack. 

“Daryl Dixon, are you trying to end up with pneumonia again?!” Carol admonished. She shoved his bag out of the way quickly and tossed the last larger blanket around his shoulders. 

“C-c-couldn’a held ‘er like I w-w-was, right?” His teeth legitimately chattered, his gaze leaving Carol to look you over. “D-doin’ alright?”

You narrowed your eyes above the ghost of a smile. “Did you really go find a body of water to take a bath in the middle of winter?” 

“W-wouldn’a left ya but w-was d-d-dirty. Wanted t-to—wanna hold ‘er.” Once again, he was pale as milk but there was some color slowly seeping into his cheeks. Hershel wasn’t freaking out over his current state, so—contrary to the pressure threatening to choke you from the inside—you wouldn’t either. Daryl ran his tongue over colorless lips and ducked his head.  “If that’s alr-right?” 

Your mouth fell open, your brow furrowing while you blinked at him. Did he just— “Daryl, she’s your daughter. Of course you can hold her.” You were already moving an arm from beneath Thumper’s miniscule weight. When your hand found his, you pulled back with a hiss. “Maybe just get a little warmer first though, okay?” The archer nodded, but he still looked so uncertain. 

Hershel cleared his throat. He had remained still and silent throughout the exchange but then slowly crept down to sit on his knees at your hip. “In the meantime.” With a gesture toward Carol, he held out his hands. The cloth-clad placenta was placed onto his palms. It had apparently just been traveling around with Thumper wherever she roamed within the van. “Would you like to cut the cord, son?”

Still shivering but teeth no longer clicking together, Daryl’s expression molded into equal parts disgust and confusion. “The hell would I wanna do that?”

“It’s a tradition.” The old man explained. Carol was busy cleaning her knife with some rubbing alcohol. “It marks the start of life outside of the mother, when the father can begin to be physically involved in caring for the baby.”

The hunter brought his left thumb to his mouth, chewing on the side, granting a physical form to his inner anxiety. “Don’t it hurt ‘er?” You were curious as well, and you looked away from your partner to await the answer. 

“There are no nerves in the cord. She won’t feel a thing.”

Daryl drew back when Carol presented him with the knife. He looked to you. You shrugged a shoulder, careful not to jar Thumper. “It’s your decision.”

“Must be done. It doesn’t matter if it’s you or myself.” Hershel added. 

Lowering his hand from his teeth, Daryl eyed the knife. It was clear that he didn’t believe he wasn’t going to hurt his daughter. His thumb was replaced by his lower lip, jaw inching back and forth to gnaw at it earnestly. Without a word, he reached for the knife. Carol offered him a smile that he unsurprisingly didn’t return. 

“Where do—how does it—”

“I’ll help you.” The veterinarian reassured, balancing the organ on top of one hand while the other lifted the cord. “Right between the tape.” 

“Don’t that leave some’a it?” Daryl’s throat was visibly working as he swallowed. 

“That will dry up and fall off. I’ll show you both how to care for it until that happens.” 

The exhale was audible, undoubtedly something he didn’t intend but also didn’t take notice. Daryl’s hand was shaking, the blade carefully pressed to slice upward and away from the skin of your newborn. You held your breath, afraid any movement or sound would cause her to stir. If Daryl accidentally nicked her, there’d be no consoling him.

The cut was clean and quick, Thumper remaining sound asleep throughout. Your head tipped back against your pillow of blankets, relief flooding through you in a tingling wave that left you once again feeling wrung out. Half an hour was not enough. You wanted to sleep for days. 

Turning your head was a chore, but worth it. Daryl was ignoring everything that was happening below the two of you, his eyes dancing between you and his daughter. “I know.” You whispered. His gaze found yours. “She’s finally here.” He nodded, his lips slightly parted with words he couldn’t seem to articulate. “It’s a lot, Daryl. I know. It’s okay.” 

He was trembling, but you were certain it was no longer from the cold. His entire world had just changed. He was a father, and—judging by the look on his face, the turmoil in his pretty eyes—he was terrified. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” Your question was met with a sharp inhale, his spine straightening. 

“I—” 

You were already shifting the baby, shushing and cooing when she squeaked and stretched in protest. 

“You should bond with her too, Daryl.” Carol was sitting against the interior wall, looking her own personal sort of tired. “If you feel comfortable, um—” She turned her head to look away entirely, staring at the opposite wall. “You should let her lay against your skin.”

Bless him, he looked as though he might hyperventilate. “What if—she might—don’t wanna scare ‘er.” Daryl stared at Thumper, her little head moving back and forth as you offered her to him. You wouldn’t tell him the baby was too little to be scared. That would only leave him wondering if she’d be afraid of him later, when she was older. He was so convinced that his scars would make his daughter fear him. 

That anger you had felt before, the inferno of rage that had boiled beneath your ribs—it was back. Had they been still alive, you would strangle those people that had hurt him, scarred him so deeply. Beyond physical. But they were dead. And you were there. You would do your damnedest to show him a different perspective. That he was good and not a product of his father’s anger or his mother’s absence. That he was loved. 

“She isn’t afraid and she won’t be, not of you.” You vowed, pulling Thumper in against your own chest once more. With a hand then free, you raised the blanket and slid over with a grunt. The pain wasn’t horrible but you were definitely sore. “Get under here with me first.”

Maybe one day, he would be beyond the urge to hide that part of himself. Until then, however, you were more than content to help him find any measure of comfort you could offer. 

Daryl hesitated, giving you a quick once over. “Won’t hurtcha?” 

You smiled, small and tired but genuine. “No. Now get under here. Don’t make me drag you while holding a newborn. You know I can do it.” You challenged playfully. Maybe you could lighten the atmosphere. With a pfft, he took the blanket from your hand and shed the one around his shoulders, his eyes darting over to Hershel and Carol. They had knowingly turned their backs. You almost wished they would leave but having someone knowledgeable there was a comfort you weren’t ready to be without. You had no idea what you were doing. Once he was settled, you did your best to pull up the blanket until he took over. “Unbutton your shirt?”

“Dunno if—”

“She already loves you, Daryl. You were the one to calm her down when she was river dancing on my intestines. Just—try?” He sighed, his fingers slowly working open the buttons before stalling. “If you’re too uncomfortable with it, we’ll fix it, okay? I’ll take her and then you can put her on top of your shirt.”

The deep breath he took trembled but he continued until he could part his shirt enough for his chest to be visible. Even with only your eyes on him, he began to exhibit obvious anxiety. 

“It’s only me.” You whispered while maneuvering Thumper. He could actually hold her later, when there weren’t four of you cramped up in the back of an old van with stow-and-go seats. 

The man looked like he was two seconds from sliding out from beneath the blanket and bolting—until the moment the baby’s skin finally touched his own. His wide eyes drained of any trace of fear to make room for awe. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Watching him closely, those two words were meant to be part of the internal monologue he had going on inside his head. His calloused hands had never looked so gentle, laying across Thumper’s back. He immediately lifted one and placed the other there instead with the previous palm resting on her little diapered bottom.

“She s’posed to be this small?” His voice cracked. You turned onto your side, slowly and stiffly, while he silently let his gaze wander over to watch you move. Wiggling to find a comfortable position, you settled with your head on his shoulder and your fingertips brushing repeatedly over Thumper’s head.

“Hershel said she probably weighs around six pounds.” 

“S’that okay?” His thumb was swiping back and forth through the slightly darker blonde hair on the back of the baby’s head. 

“She’s perfect.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, quietly. His head was tilted, angled to be able to see the little face of the human he helped create. “I, uh—thank you.” You lifted your head to stare him down, quiet yet questioning. “Y’know—for her.”

Your expression softened. Your hand lifted from Thumper to Daryl’s chin, guiding his head to turn. Stifling the grunt of discomfort that moving caused, you shimmied up just enough to press your lips to his. It was chaste but no less passionate. 

“None of that for at least six weeks. Minimum.” Hershel chided from the back of the van. 

Daryl huffed in annoyance, only slightly turning away to bark out “the hell’s ‘er mouth got to do with anythin’?” You laughed in spite of yourself, the action jarring and uncomfortable. 

Hershel even chuckled. “I mean no further, son. No intercourse. She needs to heal.” 

Damnit. You knew at that very moment, it would take you twelve weeks to coerce Daryl into actual sex. God, if your vagina wasn’t ruined after pushing out a whole human. Oh well, you’d be fine as long as he was still yours. You blinked, eyes glazed and thoughts wandering. He would still want you, right?

“Gotta make things weird, old man? Christ.”

Shaking your head, you pushed those worries aside for later. He was now warm and you had your personal space heater back. You molded yourself to his side and willed your body to relax. Daryl was there. Your little family was safe. Sleep laid its claim on you within moments. 

“Claire?” You suggested. Your hand alternated between rubbing and patting the back of the frustrated infant on your shoulder, coaxing out a burp that vibrated your collarbone. Don’t always need it, indeed. While Daryl sat across from you on the bed, rubbing the length of his left index finger across his lips, you adjusted Thumper to the opposite breast. Her little fists were flailing, her face scrunched up and red. The little squeaks and grunts were aplenty as she worked herself up to a squalling cry. “Ssh, here, Thumps.” The moment your nipple rubbed against her cheek, the baby rooted for it eagerly, latching on and suckling with gusto. 

“When she scrunches ‘er face like that, she looks like Merle.” Daryl snorted. His expression didn’t show it but his eyes held a distinct shimmer of sadness. 

“Wanna name her Merle? Merlene? Marleen?” You almost cackled at the look he pulled. “Okay, okay. I said Claire, grumpy gills.”

“Nah.” He sniffed and briefly glanced toward the window. You could hear the van and truck rolling in, hopefully with more supplies. “Makes me think’a that ear piercin’ place in all the malls.”

You thought about people that you had lost. Maybe you could honor them this way. “Andrea?” Daryl snorted. 

“She gonna shoot me when she gets older?” He took a deep breath and balanced his chin on his right palm, elbow pressed into his thigh. “Don’t really feel like she should be a Andrea.”

“Patricia?” You pressed on, stroking Thumper’s cheek with a fingertip. “We could call her Patty?”

“No.”

Your aunt maybe. “My aunt’s name was—actually, no. Nevermind.” This time, it was you that snorted. Daryl shook his head before he turned it back to the window. Thumper had released your nipple, even as her little mouth continued to try and suckle. “Can you burp her while I get all—” you gestured broadly toward your entire self. 

“Sure.” He slid off the mattress and leaned down to take his daughter, so carefully maneuvering her against the front of his shoulder. You kept your sights on him as he moved toward the window, offering the baby a little sunlight. 

You and Daryl slept in the van until the current safe house had been found. No one even woke the archer to help clear it. Probably because Thumps was still lying on his chest. Carol had been the one to wake the two of you, sending you into the bedroom while she heated as much water as she could for you to properly clean up and then to give the baby a warm bath.  Daryl held your daughter while you wiped her down. There was a fire burning in the living room and though you could feel the house slowly warming, neither of you wanted to take any risks. You removed the little knit hat from her head and took care in wiping away the remaining film over her skin. Patting her dry, you replaced the hat and moved on. Each area was bared, cleaned, and covered. You couldn’t help but smile when the archer looked away while you removed the diaper. You made it all the way to her feet before she woke up properly and started trying to suckle Daryl’s thumb.  “Barkin’ up the wrong tree, lil’ one. Gonna hafta talk to your mama if you’re hungry.”

And now here you were, tucking away your tits into a nursing bra while your partner rubbed the back of your perfect daughter by a sunlit window. Thumper was in a light blue sleeper onesie and wrapped in a pink blanket— littered with little birds—to make sure she stayed warm. 

You didn’t hear her burp but had no doubt that she did if he was taking her from his shoulder to the crook of his right arm. From your vantage point you couldn’t see much but you could tell Daryl was talking to her. 

While daddy and daughter were occupied, you laid back on the bed and stretched tired muscles. Your abdomen was still swollen but soft. It was your lady bits that were hot and sore. Forget taking a piss. You had nearly screeched when Daryl had accompanied you earlier, leaving Thumper with Carol. You were bleeding but thank god, Carol had warned you and handed you a couple of pads before you headed out the door. You hadn’t thought anything of it until you were standing over where you had urinated and it looked like a murder scene. 

“Jesus, it’s Nightmare on Elm St in my underwear.” You said as you rounded the tree. Daryl looked unamused.  “Ya gotta be so—graphic? Good lord.”

“Need to hunt soon.” Daryl spoke suddenly from the window. You sat back up with a wince just as he made his way back to you. 

“We have a lot of canned stuff. You don’t need to—”

“Doc said ya need protein to keep makin’ milk for her.” 

You didn’t want him to go anywhere. Logically, you knew it made sense. He was the only other hunter besides yourself. Canned veggies wouldn’t do much towards milk production and of course Daryl had asked about it already. Hershel had been pleased that Thumper was appearing satisfied with the colostrum you were producing, but she would need more even within just the next few days. 

“When?” You tracked him as he lowered to the edge of the mattress just in front of you. The baby’s little hand was curled around his middle finger and you weren’t sure he cared about anything else enough to divert his attention away from his newborn. “Daryl.” You chuckled. 

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t paying attention. 

“Purple because aliens don’t wear hats.” 

“Mhm.” Had he ever been this distracted? You called his name again amidst a laugh, each syllable bouncing. Finally, he looked up. Straight ahead first, as if forgetting where you were sitting. Then it was over to you. “You say somethin’?” 

“Welcome back.”

He mocked a laugh and then deadpanned. “Funny girl.”

Your smile remained steadfast. “When are you going out to hunt?” 

“Thought I’d leave in the mornin’. Y’know, stick ‘round to help ya tonight an’ make sure ya both’re all good ‘fore I go. Try to bring back all I can so that—” His mouth was still open, but the words stopped altogether. His brow drew inward. “Think this diaper’s toast.”

Oh god. 

The first diaper change.  

“Should I get Carol?” You asked in earnest. You had never changed a diaper before and Daryl had never indicated he had any experience either. Still, he shook his head. 

“Gotta learn sometime, right? Between the two’a us, how hard can it be?”

The answer: really fucking hard. 

“Daryl, you have to look!” 

“Don’t feel right to see ‘er—areas.”

“You’re her father and you’re trying to change her. It’s fine. You’re gonna get it all over your hands if you don’t look.”

“S’it s’posed to be that color?” 

“How the hell should I know? Can you hand me the wipes?” 

“What wipes?”

“You didn’t grab the wipes?”

“No?” 

“Was that a question?” 

“No?”

“Daryl.”

“Y/N.”

“Get the wipes.”

Twenty minutes later, Thumper was snoozing comfortably on the mattress, wrapped snugly in her blanket without a care in the world. You and Daryl, however, were staring at the small creature, appearing every bit as though you were trapped in the flashbacks of war. 

“I don’t think it’s supposed to take that long.” You finally commented. 

“Walker guts don’t even look like that.” Daryl’s voice was just as quiet and monotonous as your own. 

“It didn’t even smell. Shouldn’t it smell bad?”

“You’re complainin’?” 

“Touché.”

When Carol knocked, your heads moved in unison, two sets of wide, troubled eyes landing on the woman in the doorway. Her eyebrows shot upward, lowering slowly as she took in the scene: you and Daryl cross-legged on the mattress. Thumper just a few inches away. Wipes and a rolled up diaper on the floor below the foot of the bed. Her hand flew to her mouth, pressing against it to smother the chuckle that tried so hard to break free. 

“You two okay?” She finally asked, clearing her throat. 

“We look okay?” Daryl rasped. 

She struggled against laughter again. “You look like two first time parents discovering one of the joys of a newborn.” 

“We need help.” You were practically pleading, feeling horrible to ask it of the woman who had lost her only child. Daryl’s expression was just as desperate even if he would never grant it a voice. 

“Okay, let’s go over the basics.” Carol shook her head fondly and closed the door behind her. 

Several feedings and diaper changes later, Thumper was asleep between you and Daryl. Night had stolen the sun and a candle burned on the bedside table behind you. She was so far a quiet baby, only crying when she was hungry and would squeak and grunt when her diaper was soiled. 

“Expressing herself in grunts and other noncommittal sounds. She’s totally your kid.” You teased.  “Shuddup.”

Daryl’s hand was on the baby’s stomach, likely just as much for his benefit as hers. He was dozing, making a valiant effort to stay awake with little success. You were just as tired but you couldn’t seem to coerce your eyes away from your partner and daughter. Daryl had been so attentive and tender with you while you carried Thumper but seeing him physically interact with her was an entirely different experience. 

Once again, it was likely something he would internalize but he was absolutely in love. That little thing lying between the two of you had already stolen his whole heart. If you had any doubt of his desire and ability to be her dad,—which you didn’t—that would be long gone now. 

When you weren’t nursing her, she was with Daryl. He talked to her in hushed whispers like sharing secrets he’d never speak to another living soul. And she slept or stared at him while he stared right back. She had the bluest of eyes but Carol said they might not remain that way. 

You hoped they did. 

When she looked at you, you could feel her curiosity and adoration. You were her mother and she knew. She knew your voice, your touch. She knew Daryl. Carol said Thumper could only see in shapes and shades of gray, but you didn’t believe that. Not for a second. They way she would stare at Daryl, her little fingers squeezing the edge of her pink bird blanket. No, you didn’t believe that. 

“Think I gotta name for ‘er.” Daryl spoke suddenly, words rough off his tongue, laced with exhaustion. You smiled. 

“Oh yeah?” You wondered if he was even awake or aware of what he was saying. His eyelids were heavy, flickering open every few seconds. 

“Yeah. S’okay if ya don’t like it. Don’t really make no sense.”

You laughed within a breath, reaching to brush the hair off his forehead. When he didn’t speak for a moment, you found yourself too curious to let it go. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He took a deep breath, eyes still closed, with an mhm during the exhale. His index finger was gently rubbing back and forth over Thumper’s little hand while she had it fisted into her blanket. 

You almost moved your hand to his shoulder to shake him awake, but refrained. He was—like you—exhausted, and within that state, he was emotionally vulnerable. You almost felt as if you were taking advantage of that, but there was a realization that you wanted him to name her. So, you would wait. Let him sleep or listen when he was ready to tell you. 

“Birdie.” He finally breathed. Without opening his eyes, he moved his finger to tap one of the birds on the blanket. “Birdie Jade.”

You felt the wet tickle of a tear running across the bridge of your nose and wiped it away before it could sting your other eye. Sniffling, you ran your fingers through the hair above Daryl’s ear. His eyes finally opened, clear and sharp, watching, waiting for your reaction. 

You pulled back your hand and laid it on top of his, over the baby’s blanket. 

“Hi, Birdie.”

[sommerbueckers]

hey baby! so i couldn’t really come up to some scenario, but i would realllyyyy like to see smth like reader is a professional ballerina and has a 🤏🏼 age gap w Paige, (P could also be r’s older sister’s friend if thats sits well with you) and like they have a situationship or Paige tries to hit on r, but P keeps her playboy attitude (ifykwim). I would be really happy to see this especially when i’m in love with everything u do, but its alr if you don’t feel like itt! Love ya and forever grateful 🫂♥️

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟏.𝟓𝐤

✰ 𝐡𝐢 𝐦𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 !!

✰ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲

___________________________________________________________

THE MUSIC CEASED, AND the entirety of the theater was submerged in a thick silence. You panted softly, your gaze casted downward while your hands were raised above your hand in an 'O' shape. Seconds passed, seconds that felt like hours, before the audience erupted with cheers.

People stood, people whistled, people clapped, and you felt your body finally relax. The man beside you, Theodore was his name, smiled proudly to the crowd before he gently took your hand and led you backstage. Once the two of you were concealed by the thick, black curtain, you leapt into his arms.

"We did it, Theo! We did it!" you hailed, your voice muffled as you spoke into the fabric of his leotard.

Theo chortled in his own disbelief, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

After months of rehearsing and previewing the performance, you and Theo had finally brought it to the stage. Pas de deux was no walk in the park, you had many bruises to attest to that, but the hardest part was over: Opening Night.

You fanned your face after Theo set you down, your lips permanently stretched from ear to ear as the people backstage repeatedly congratulated you. A while after you retreated to your dressing room, wanting nothing more than to see your family who had been waiting to see you all night. You and Theo walked out together.

"You were amazing out there, Svea."

"Me?" you gawked, a laugh following afterward. "You were incredible! When we first started rehearsing you didn't even have the strength to lift me! You remember that?"

"Yes, unfortunately, it's hard to forget," he sighed, shaking his head.

You playfully nudged him arm with your elbow, "You've come a long way, so you better celebrate tonight."

"I will. I'm gonna 'get turnt' as you say," he smiled.

The two of you reached the front lobby where it had begun to clear out. Though people still lingered, as people usually did, it wasn't hard to spot your family amidst all of them.

Your mother waved excitedly, rushing toward you with the largest of smiles on her face. She took you into her arms just as Theo had done, her grip was much weaker than his.

"Oh honey, i'm so proud of you!" she cried, her brown eyes going glossy with tears.

"We, Sonya," your father chimed in from behind her.

"Yes, yes," the woman waved dismissively. "That young man was great too, I thought he handled you with so much care."

"We! We thought that," your father had stepped forward now, wrapping his thick arm around you and drowning you in his cologne. There was a bouquet of red roses in his hand, secured together with a silky black ribbon. "We got these for you. Your mother picked them out, of course, but I paid."

You laughed lightly, "Thank you dad."

"Alright, outta the way! My turn!"

Your head snapped in the direction of your sister's voice, grimacing as she pushed your father aside and pulled you in for a hug. She was a few years older than you, but the top of her head stopped just above your shoulder.

"You looked like a spec of dust flyin' around out there, I wasn't sure if it was really you," she said, squinting upward. "Look like you could use a donut or two."

You patted your stomach, "Definitely could."

"If you ride with me and Paige, we'll take you to Krispy Kreme or something," she winked.

"Paige?"

As if on cue, Paige appeared behind your sister. She also had a bouquet of flowers, but these were different from the ones your father had gifted you; these were special. It was a bundle of hibiscuses tied together by a pink ribbon, Paige had always known what you liked. You stared at her in awe — of the gesture of course.

She presented them to you with a smile, the smile that she often gave you whenever she did something remarkably sweet but didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

"You got me these?" you tilted your head at her.

"No," she frowned, "your sister did. She jus' didn't feel like holding them."

"Actually I gave them to you when I went to the bathroom and you refused to give them back after that," the shorter girl argued.

"Oh." You hid your disappointment well, nobody seemed to notice it as you thanked your sister for the flowers and followed the group out of the building. Of course Paige hadn't gotten the flowers for you, the gesture was too grand, and Paige often preferred to keep things clandestine.

You, Paige, and your sister separated from your parents, heading toward the parking garage where the two had parked.

Paige fell into step with you, her hands stuffed casually into her pockets as she smiled down at you.

"You looked pretty up there," she whispered, "You look pretty all the time, but, especially when you're dancing."

You blushed at her compliment, shaking your head and keeping your eyes steady on your sister's back.

"Not gonna thank me?"

"Thank you, Paige."

"That didn't feel genuine," she sucked her teeth, "I think you'll have to give me a kiss to prove you meant it."

You flashed her a disapproving look, "You know I don't kiss people i'm not dating."

"You kissed me before," she reminded you, lowering her voice a bit.

You sighed slightly, glancing up at her to find her giving you that signature smirk. "Maybe later."

That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, she nodded triumphantly and began to walk ahead of you to assist your sister in finding the car.

Did you want to kiss Paige? Of course you did, what girl didn't? But that was the problem, any girl that wanted to kiss Paige got what they wanted. You knew you couldn't have her all to yourself, so you tried to find peace in the little piece that she'd given you.

"LEMME TAKE A PIC OF YOU WITH YOUR FLOWERS."

Everyone had gone to bed except for you and Paige. The two of you were standing in the kitchen, the light to the fan above the stove hardly illuminating your faces.

You swallowed a bite of your donut, "Um, why?"

"Because they're pretty," she shrugged, "and you're pretty. So, why not?" She always knew exactly what to say. She grabbed the bouquet from the island and handed it over to you.

"Say 'Paige' on three," she smiled.

Your shoulders slumped, "I'm not saying that shit."

"Fine. Jus' say 'Cheese' then," she rolled her eyes.

"Cheese..." you repeated, cradling the bundle of flowers in your arm. Paige's finger rapidly tapped the button, taking more pictures than she needed. "Can I see them?"

"If you want," she shrugged, "but you gotta give me somethin' first." She was childish wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You scoffed, moving back toward the counter to set the flowers down. "Can you ever just be nice without a price?"

"Bro c'mon," she sighed, tilting her head. "You can't really sit there and tell me you don't wanna kiss me."

She was right, you couldn't. The truth was you bad been waiting all night to kiss Paige, you just wanted to seem stronger than you were. She was staring at you with those bright blue eyes, those perfect pink lips pulled into a smirk, she knew what I was doing.

She stepped closer, her phone lying abandoned on the countertop. "How 'bout this," she started, "i'll ask you one last time, and if you say 'no' I won't ever ask again, okay?" She was pretending to be sweet, like if the thought of her kissing me actually made me uncomfortable then she would stop if I asked her to. She knew i'd never ask. She knew I wouldn't say 'no', not to her.

She was towering over me now, her eyes low, gaze determined to break me. I pressed my hands to her abdomen, I tried to find the strength within me to push her away but all I could manage to do was keep her there. She trapped my wrists in her fingers, snaking them under her shirt to lay against her skin.

"Tell me," her voice was low, and she was breathing hard through her nose. Like she was trying her hardest to contain herself.

You couldn't look her in the eyes, but you could feel her breath hot on your forehead.

"C'mon, Svea, tell me. Tell me you don't wanna kiss me."

"I can't."

"Why can't you?" she urged.

"Because I do wanna kiss you," you sighed out, having accepted your defeat.

Paige stepped back from you, nodding her head with a victorious smile. "I know."

You had fallen for it, just like always. She'd steer you away from your boundaries, right until just after you broke, and then she'd play you like a fool. Just like she had done just now.

She tauntingly pointed her finger at you, breaking off a piece of your donut and tossing it in her mouth. "Next time, don't be so stubborn."

She retreated up the stairs to your sister's room, leaving you alone in the dimply lit kitchen with your lips parted and a tingly feeling between your legs.

___________________________________________________________

[heartsforvin]

CHRISTMAS IN SEATTLE

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; pure, tooth rotting fluff, enjoy <3

summary; you and vinnie spend your first christmas as a family of three in seattle

christmas time for you and vinnie was always fun and filled with so much love. ever since the two of you became parents to a baby boy three months ago, christmas time got a little bit better.

oliver made your and vinnie’s lives so much better when he was born, bringing so much more love into your family.

it’s been an adjustment though. going from just the two of you, to finding out you were pregnant, then suddenly nine months flew by and your baby boy was here.

neither of you would change anything for the world, though.

“vin, you got the car all packed?” you asked as you ran around the house trying to think if you forgot to pack anything important.

vinnie stood to the side holding his son, smiling down at him and whispering “your mom’s crazy, i know” to him.

you stopped in your tracks, glaring at your husband. “i heard that,” you say, walking up to vinnie and grabbing onto your son’s tiny finger. “don’t listen to him.” you whisper.

vinnie let out a low chuckle before replying. “yes, babe. car’s all packed and ready to go.”

you smiled and kissed his cheek, walking over to the garbage can to throw your checklist away.

✧∘* ೃ ⋆｡˚.

one long and stressful plane ride later, the three of you landed in seattle. the three of you finally get to sit down for a minute and relax as you wait for vinnie’s parents to pick you up.

“you excited to see your grandparents and uncle, ollie?” vinnie asks his son as he bounces him gently on his knee.

the baby squints his eyes at his dad, making both you and vinnie smile to each other. soon enough, vinnie’s family gets to the airport and the six of you are on your way to your second home.

walking into the home, it’s just as you remember it - homey and full of love. you smile at vinnie and grab your son from his arms before walking around the familiar home.

“this is gonna be your second home, bub,” you whisper to your sleeping son as you walk around the home. “lots of memories are gonna be made.”

you hear footsteps behind you and soon a pair of arms wrap around your waist seconds later. vinnie smiles into you, kissing the back of your neck.

you turn around to face him, his arms never leaving their spot on your waist. “did your parents set up the pack and play?” you whisper to your husband.

vinnie nods and the two of you head upstairs to put your son down for a much needed nap. after you do, you and vinnie stand side by side, his arm around you once again, as you look down at your son.

“can’t believe it’s already his first christmas, feels like he was just born yesterday.” you say softly to vinnie, his grip on your waist tightens but not enough to hurt you.

kissing your forehead, you lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder. “i know, time’s flyin’.” vinnie tells you.

the two of you stay upstairs in the spare bedroom for a while, smiling down at your son, wondering how you both got so lucky to have this life.

moments later, you two make your way back downstairs to help set up for the night. you help vinnie’s mom in the kitchen while vinnie catches up with his dad and brother.

“how’s mom life been treating you?” maria asks you as the two of you plate some food and set it at the dinning table.

you smile at the mention of your son. “good, actually. it’s been rough, but having vinnie there with me helps so much.” you reply.

maria smiles. “he loves that little boy so much,” she says. “i’m really happy you two found each other, you made his life complete.”

hearing your husbands mother say that to you really warmed your heart. he made your life just as complete as you did his.

baby or not, you knew either way the two of you would be the happiest. oliver just made your guys’ happiness a million times better.

“smells good in here,” you hear someone say. as soon as you feel arms wrap around you and a soft kiss placed on your skin, you knew exactly who it was. “how’s it going?” vinnie asks.

maria smiles at her son and daughter in law. “good, y/n was just telling me how much she loves you and olllie.”

you turn around and smile at your husband, he kisses you quickly since his mother is in the room. vinnie unwraps himself from you and makes his way to the dinning table.

“this all looks amazing, mama.” vinnie says, looking up at his mother with a smile.

maria walks over to her son and hugs him, saying a quick ‘thank you’ before pulling away.

soon enough, it’s dinner time and the five of you gather around the table and enjoy the amazing dinner you had helped prepared.

✧∘* ೃ ⋆｡˚.

after dinner you go back upstairs to grab your son from the crib. “hi, baby!” you greet, grabbing the boy carefully and laying him in your arms.

“you ready to see everyone?” you ask as you make your way down the stairs and into the living room.

once in the room you say, “look who’s awake.” with a big smile on your face as you make your way to sit next to vinnie.

vinnie swings his arm so it’s around you but still resting on the couch. “hey little man.” vinnie says, smiling at his son.

oliver tries to give his dad a wide smile back but it doesn’t work too well, making everyone laugh.

you soon feel your son try to wiggle out of your grasp, making you look down and see he’s trying to make his way to his uncle.

you get reggie’s attention and hand his nephew to him. you nudge vinnie who is talking to his parents, grabbing his attention and have him look over to where reggie is sitting on the couch.

he smiles and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and kissing your temple.

you watch as reggie plays with his nephew, tickling his sides, making him clap his hands, and just all around being the best uncle with your boy.

“he’ll be a great dad someday.” you whisper to vinnie, making him smile.

the blonde agrees and watches as his brother hands his son to his parents now. the two of you sit in awe as you watch your little family share the love.

after awhile, oliver lands back in vinnie’s lap and you soon hear that presents were now being open.

you sit down on the floor next to vinnie with your son in his lap, grabbing all the presents for you, vinnie and oliver.

“who first?” you ask, but soon see nate pointing in your direction and saying. “i think someone has already tried to start.”

you turn to look at vinnie and see oliver grab the tiny present that’s in front of him and watch him put it in his mouth.

“okay let’s not do that,” vinnie laughs as he takes the present out of his son’s reach. he positions oliver so hes snug against vinnie’s chest and wont fall over. “we open them like this, bud.” he tells his son, opening the small wrapped present in front of him.

you look over and smile at the other three family members as you watch vinnie open his son’s gift. every little interaction vinnie has with oliver makes your heart so warm.

soon after oliver’s presents were opened, the rest of you took turns opening what each of you got for each other. as you did, you couldn’t help but feel so much love and happiness to be apart of this family.

when you and vinnie started dating all those years ago, you had a small feeling he’d be the man you marry, the woman he’d take home to for the holidays, the father of your children. you never fully know that those things would become reality.

you’re so happy they did, though. you couldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else. you wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.

“baby, you okay?” you feel vinnie nudge you a bit, grabbing your attention.

“hmm? oh yeah, just thinking.” you reply with a smile.

“about what?” vinnie asks, and as he does you feel a tiny finger grab yours. you smile at your son and then look back up at your husband.

“us, you,” you say. “just about how happy i am to have you in my life, to have your family, our son, in my life.” you tell him.

vinnie can’t help the smile that creeps up on him, making him give you a goofy grin. “i love you so much, sweetheart. you’ll never know how much you mean to me. having you here with me and my family, with our little family, it means the world to me.”

you start to tear up but vinnie wipes your eyes, careful not to bump his arm against his son’s head. he kisses you softly, completely forgetting he’s in a room with his parents and brother.

you smile against his lips, giving him one quick kiss again before pulling away. “i love you to the moon and back, vinnie. forever.”

“as cute as that was, can you not do that again?” the two of you hear reggie speak up, making you laugh.

you stand up and walk over to the other three people in the room, opening your arms to invite them in a hug.

“i’m gonna do it again, reg, sorry,” you say as you hug the three family members. “i love you guys so much, thank you for letting me be apart of this family.”

the four of you pull away and you give the three a warm smile. vinnie watches from where he sits with oliver and can’t help but tear up.

he picks up his son and gives him a hug and kisses his head. “i love you so much, little man.”

you make your way back to vinnie and your son, grabbing the boy from his dads arms and hugging him and kissing him the same way vinnie did.

after all the presents and ‘i love you’s’ are done, you all make your way into the kitchen for dessert. you sit next to vinnie with oliver close to your chest, and the five of you finish the night with laughs and a whole lot of love.

after dessert, everyone says goodnight and parts their ways to their rooms. you, vinnie, and oliver make your way to the spare room for the night.

changing his diaper and putting him in a sleep onesie, you kiss his head as you lay your boy down for the night.

vinnie does the same after you, saying a quick goodnight his son before climbing into bed with you.

wrapping yourself around your husband, vinnie pulls you into him and kisses you softly. “goodnight my pretty girl. merry christmas.”

you smile and kiss him once more. “goodnight, vinnie. merry christmas.”

moments later the three of you drift off to peaceful sleep, with you snuggled into the love of your life.

this was definitely one of the best christmas’ yet, and you loved every minute of it.

hiii i really enjoyed writing this, sorry it was so long , i got carried away 😭

but merry christmas to those who celebrate !! i love you all tons and hope you liked this pure fluff imagine !!!

taglist: @cosmicanakin , @lyndys , @kriissy4gov , @leqonsluv3r , @forevergirlposts , @slvthrs , @laylasbunbunny , @lovingsturniolo , @hallecarey1 , @bernelflo , @kayleiggh

[strniohoeee]

Racketeer

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hates that Chris packs heat when they go out, but what happens one night when he may need it?🗣️

Warnings⚠️: Chris has that pewpew on him. This is pure self indulgence for my friend and I. I was thinking about the podcast where Chris said if he didn’t have Nick or Matt he’d def be drinking and smoking and doing bad shit. So I made Chris a “hoodrat”. I’m from NY, so we always say hoodrat. If you’re offended uhhh my bad?? Idk this is normal slang for me

Song for the imagine: Sweetheart- Pop Smoke feat. Fivio Foreign

You see my face, you better move

Bullets flyin’ through the room

They want static, I’m in the mood

To say Chris was always ready for whatever would be an understatement. Chris was always packing heat, and to be honest I hated it.

He always told me it was for protection in case anyone got funny around him or me, but I never liked the idea of my man potentially hurting someone.

I adored him for wanting to protect me, but also that put a target on my back. Especially since everyone in Boston knew Chris and I. And they especially knew the crew Chris ran with.

I always brought this up to him, and he would go back to saying that, that was the reason he carried at all costs. When I met Chris we were in high school, and he was always hanging with the wrong crowd, but he never had enemies. I fell in love with him for who he was when he wasn’t around his hooligan friends, but when we left high school, and I realized this was his lifestyle I just came to terms with it

“Chris I don’t think you should have that on you” I told him as we were getting ready to go out to a club

“Nah. Just in case someone wanna breathe loud near my woman. Ima boom his face off” he said

“Sweet of you to want to protect me, but can’t you just fist fight” I told him

“Baby, the life I live they don’t play fair. I gotta carry” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Man I really wish you’d stop hanging around those asshole” I said back

“Come onnn don’t speak like that” he said kissing me

“I’m serious Christopher. You should really have gone to school, or do something with your creativity so you wouldn’t be having to have a strap on you wherever we go” I said scolding him

“Listen mama, I promise I’m going to get us out of this lifestyle” he said hugging me from behind

“Okay Christopher” I said rolling my eyes at him

Chris and I had gone to a small club downtown that his friends were raving about. We hadn’t been to a club in a while, and we really wanted to go out and have some fun

We got to the club and got a table, and ordered some drinks. We were all chilling and laughing here and there. Chris and I had danced to a few songs

I was at the bar closing the tab, and handing over Chris’ card to the bartender, when a guy came over and tried to speak to me

“How are you tonight?” He asked

“I’m fine” I said not even looking at him

“What’s wrong pretty lady?” He asked trying to touch me

“Back off! I have a man” I said rudely and backed away

“Chill lil mama. It was never that serious” he said walking off

I had paid the bill, and walked over to Chris

“What was that about?” He asked looking at me with concern

“Some fucking weirdo tryna talk to me, but I told him I had a man, and he ran off” I told Chris

As we were getting ready to leave the same man walked by me

“There’s that pretty lady again” he said smiling at me

“Yo fuck outta here!” Chris said to the guy putting his hand up to keep us separated

He just looked at Chris and walked off not thinking much of it

We were all outside chatting while Chris friends waited for their rides, and that same man came around again

“I think it’s fate the way we keep bumping into each other” he said trying to grab my right arm, but I moved slightly

“Yo! Beat it you fucking weirdo” Chris said a little more upset

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said

Chris pulled me a little towards him so I would be out of the way of the man’s view

Chris lifted his shirt, flashing the pistol sitting in the waistband of his jeans

“I’m her boyfriend, so like I said, get the fuck outta here” Chris said ready to pop the guy

“Yo man! I ain’t even mean anything I swear” the guy said getting scared

“Yeah. Keep it pushing before I pistol whip you” he said watching the guy walk away, and pulling me in closer

“The fuck that guy thought he was” Chris said looking over his shoulder watching the guy walk down the street

“Come on baby. Don’t worry about him” I said pulling Chris to look at me

“This is why I carry my gun because any mother fucker will try me” he said rolling his eyes

“I’m grateful baby. That you were here to protect me” I said giving him a kiss

“Always baby. I’ll fuck anybody up for you. I love you” he said kissing me back

After his friends got in their rides, we both headed back home. I guess I didn’t mind Chris carrying now since he did protect me.

The End

This was pure self indulgence, so I hope yall enjoyed this as much as I did making this little short story 😋🤞🏽

-J💅🏽

[babyhatesreality]

The little one seems like a adventurous one.

What if they have placed to be and they are a little late. Bucky put you on his hip so you would run around all the time while they try to get everything ready to go.

But when Bucky wants to get the stairs down fast, maybe a little to fast, he is slipping whit you and now rushing the stairs in his behind all the way down.

And little ones reacting would be like „AGAIN?! I was flying!“ 🥺😂

While they both try to calm down

HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE

This request gave me life. And made me laugh so hard. I love it. <3

Time is a Flyin'

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader (featuring Bucky)

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

He wouldn't look at the clock. He wouldn't look at the clock. He WOULDN'T look at the clock.

He looked at the clock.

Shit. Even later than he thought. Steve was gonna kill him.

"Baby, where are you?" Bucky hollered as he raced around the house. You suddenly popped up from the couch, the blanket slipping off your head.

"Here I yam!" you cheered. Bucky did a sudden about-face and raced back into the living room, making you giggle. You reached for him but squeaked in surprise when he hoisted you into his arms so fast the room became a blur.

"Listen up baby, Daddy's running really late to meet Papa," Bucky explained to you in a rush as he ran down the hallway, holding on to you tightly. "So I need best behaviors right now, okay?"

"Okay Daddy!"

"Good girl," Bucky muttered as he plopped you down on the bench by the front door and began quickly shoving your shoes on. He deliberately chose the ones with the velcro straps so he didn't have to waste time tying laces. He suddenly realized you weren't wearing a coat and just managed to catch the swear word before it left his lips.

"Bunny, go run and get your coat. Fast as you can, chop chop," he said, clapping his hands playfully at you. You squealed with delight at the new game and took off for your bedroom as Bucky flew back into the kitchen to refill your day bag with snacks. He cursed under his breath once he knew you were out of earshot; he just KNEW not refilling it immediately after yesterday's trip to the library was going to be a mistake.

He looked at the clock again. SHIT. He was so dead.

"Baby, got your coat?" he hollered loudly, throwing the backpack on and racing towards your room. He screeched to a halt in your doorway. You had put your jacket on, but had gotten distracted by your stuffies.

"Daddy can Jellybean come?" you asked innocently, turning to meet his eyes, but instead gave another squeak as Daddy swooped you up into his arms again.

"Not this time, Baby," he said, before giving you a long kiss on the temple to take the sting of not being able to bring your bunny along. "We gotta go meet Papa and fast, don't want Jellybean getting lost along the way." Knowing Daddy needed best behavior right now, you just sighed and waved to Jellybean as Daddy raced towards the front door.

"JARVIS, doors!" Bucky yelled as you approached. You heard the click of the locks right before Bucky practically ripped the door off its hinges, slamming it quickly. "Lock it up," Bucky ordered the AI as he ran down the hallway.

"JARVIS, PLEASE," you said deliberately, your voice jolting a bit as Bucky ran, which, in turn, made you giggle. You weren't allowed to run in the hallways- this was FUN.

"Of course, Mr. Barnes and Princess," JARVIS replied politely. You were already too far away to hear the clicking of the locks, but you knew JARVIS had it taken care of. You tried to pat Bucky on the cheek to get his attention as he huffed towards the elevator, but he was going so fast and you were bouncing so hard you accidentally smacked his forehead.

"Sorry Daddy!" you chirped when he gave you the side eye. "But did you see that I helped with the door??"

"Yeah, good job Princess," Bucky said with a quick grin, before focusing back on the path in front of him. He came to a halt right in front of the elevator. He mashed the button quickly, but it didn't light up. He pushed it again- nothing. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, practically putting his fist through the panel in his frustration.

"Excuse me, Mr. Barnes, but I'm sorry to inform you that the elevator is currently down for maintenance," JARVIS said apologetically.

"SHIT," Bucky hissed, then immediately held up one finger in front of your suddenly excited face. "Don't even think about it," he warned. "That's a no-no word."

"How's come all the fun words are no-no words? Dat's not fair."

"Life ain't fair, kiddo."

"Papa gonna wash your mouth out with soap, Daddy."

"I'll give you an extra cookie after dinner if you don't tell Papa what I said."

"DEAL!"

That having been settled, Bucky looked over at the stairway door. At least he managed to only think the swear word instead of saying it this time. He sighed heavily, and shoved open the door. He looked all the way down the stairwell. Your apartment was on one of the upper levels. It was going to take forever to walk down the stairs and make him even later and Steve was going to kill him even harder. He came up with a plan, but didn't have time to really think it through- except one thing.

Bucky's head snapped to you, looking you right in the eye. "Listen up, Private Baby," he said, using his Sergeant voice. You instantly paid attention, looking at him with wide eyes. "You hang on tight, you hear me? Don't let go for anything. I'm not gonna let you fall," he said firmly. "And don't you DARE try this on your own, got it?" You had no idea what he was talking about, but you were intrigued, to say the least. You had no fear of Daddy ever dropping you- he and Papa were the strongest in the whole world and you knew he would never let you go. So you did as he asked- you gripped him as hard as you could around his neck and locked your legs into place around his waist.

"Okay, Sergeant Daddy!"

The next thing you knew, you were flying through the air. Daddy was jumping over entire flights of stairs, holding on to you so tightly it took your breath away. Your focus kept snapping back and forth between the intense concentration on his face as he leaped and the whoosh of air blowing your hair back as the concrete stairs just disappeared underneath you. You were just completely at a loss for words or actions as you held on for dear life and the floors of the tower passed by in a blur.

Bucky finally made it to the ground floor where the garage was, and stopped. Super soldier or not, he needed a moment after that. Breathing hard, he craned his neck to look down at you. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked, trying to regulate his breathing as he swallowed hard. You didn't answer for a moment, you just stared at the ground, then slowly turned your head to look at him. You blinked twice, but didn't say anything. "Baby?" he asked again, starting to panic a bit. "Are you okay?"

"AGAIN!!!" you suddenly screamed joyfully, catching him completely off guard. "AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN!!!! DO IT AGAIN DADDY!!!!"

Bucky's face couldn't have been more shocked if he'd tried. "Wh-what?" he said stupidly, not believing what he was hearing.

"CAN WE DO IT AGAIN????" you begged, bouncing in his arms. "That was the mostest funnest thing ever!!! We was FLYING!!!" You were wiggling so hard in your sheer delight that YOU were now shaking HIM. "Can we please do it again??? I promise to be good forever!!! Please please please again again again!!!!"

Knowing he now had TWO big problems on his hands, Bucky just started storming towards their car, which, of course, was all the way at the other end of the floor. The world was against him today. "Listen, Trouble," he said. "You remember how I said we weren't telling Papa about the no-no word?"

"Yeah, and da cookie!"

"If you don't tell Papa about flying down the stairs like we just did, I will let you pick out three new stuffies this weekend."

"WOW!! Dis many??" you asked, delightedly holding up three fingers. He couldn't help but grin.

"You are so smart," he said, kissing the side of your head as he hurried. "Yup, that many. But you CANNOT tell Papa. You tell Papa and the deal's off, got it?"

"Got it!"

"It'll be our little secret about flying, okay?"

"Okay! I am really good at secrets about flying, Daddy! Like how it's a secret when Uncle Sam is watching me and we go flying around the city with his falcon wings."

"Wait- WHAT?!"

[ccycloneblogging]

FINISH THE LYRICS:

Just let me take you to a better place

I'm gonna make you kiss the sky tonight Yeah, if you let me show the way I'm so excited to see you excited I'll take you to a better place, yoo-hoo-ooh And, baby, you can love me on the way We're flyin' up to outer space I'm so excited to see you excited, yeah

I just wanted to draw these two dancing, but I ran out of time

[loserlvrss]

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐕𝐑𝐒𝐒 𝟏,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ in which, to show my appreciation, i’m holding an event where i write 500-2,000ish words based off song lyrics .ᐟ PSA idols & prompts may only be chosen once. also, please specify which of the endings you’d like if multiple are listed on your prompt .ᐟ thank you for stoping by ♡ please understand that i do have a life outside of tumblr ( as well as attend school full time ). i am doing this for fun. it might take a couple of days / weeks to get all the asks out c: 40 slots; first come first serve until they’re all out .ᐟ no deadline.

want to participate ? please choose a prompt from down below ⬎

1) ❝ just ‘cause we’re in love, it isn’t trust / do i wanna know the reason you’re not here, and see if i belong to you? ❞ - belong to you by josh makazo : angst without happy ending ( status ) open !

2) ❝ bathes you in spring sunshine, wipes tears dry, and says i love you twice / seasons change, say you’ll stay the same 봄 거을 겨울도. ❞ - love you twice by huh yunjin : fluff ( status ) taken !

3) ❝ so outlandish, she said fuck me ‘till i scream / couldn’t give a flyin’ fuck if i’m famous / good god she’s on the floor rollin’ her eyes at me. once i get inside she’ll wanna die with me. ❞ - die for me by chase atlantic : smut ( status ) taken !

4) ❝ started with a little bit, now i don’t know how to quit / i need you to feel alive, i need you to fill the void. ❞ - void by the neighbourhood : angst with happy ending ( status ) taken !

5) ❝ somebody let me know, why there’s trouble in paradise? ‘cause i’ve been try-trying to get by, but i lose my mind in paradise. ❞ - trouble in paradise by new hope club : angst with or without happy ending ( status ) open !

6) ❝ untouched, xo, young lust, let’s— when we drive in your car i’m your baby, losing all my innocence in your backseat. say you love, say you love me / i write my name with lipstick on your chest. i leave a mark so you know i’m the best. ❞ - diet pepsi by addison rae : smut ( status ) taken !

7) ❝ so what, you stayin’ or coming? it shouldn’t be a discussion. all of these girls, we runnin around and i still be craving your love. ❞ - choose by why don’t we : angst with happy ending ( status ) taken !

8) ❝ and if it’s better to bet on us, then i’ll double down / and are we falling in love? say yes or no. ❞ - yes or no by jung kook : fluff ( status ) open !

9) ❝ and i’m sick of waiting patiently for someone that won’t even arrive / in the back of my mind, i killed you. and i didn’t even regret it, i can’t believe that i said it. ❞ - romantic homicide by jxdn : angst without happy ending ( status ) open !

10) ❝ you’re kissing her like you almost care, but i don’t care / i know she loves you, but she’s never, ever, ever gonna fuck you like me. and i don’t love you, but i really, really, really wanna fuck you / fighting was our favorite kind of foreplay. ❞ - like me by sam short : angst with smut ( status ) open !

11) ❝ you’re killing me softly, i don’t want to lose you / you got me so in love, i’ve never been this possessive. i don’t know how to quit. ❞ - te quiero by kiss of life : fluff ( status ) taken !

12) ❝ i’ve been drinking with cupid, thinking how you’ve been / i’ve been drinking with cupid, thinking of you, babe. ❞ - drinking with cupid by voilà : angst with or without happy ending ( status ) taken !

13) ❝ love when it comes without a warning / you better lock your phone, and look at me when you’re alone / i’m the only one who does it how you like. ❞ - billie bossa nova by billie eilish : smut or suggestive ( status ) taken !

14) ❝ i read an article on the internet, told me that that's how you know you're fallin' in love / hate to be lame but i might love you. ❞ - hate to be lame by lizzie mcalpine, finneas : angsty fluff ( status ) open !

15) ❝ people asking what we do and i don’t say a thing / you could be my dirty little secret. and you could be my everything i’m needing. ❞ - tell em by sabrina carpenter : fluff ( status ) taken !

16) ❝ oh in your eyes, there’s a spark that could light up a fire / im dying to know, is it me, is it me you want? / ill blow your mind, i’ll make you feel, make you feel my love. ❞ - blow your mind by monsta x : fluff with or without smut ( status ) open !

17) ❝ i wanna be in so deep baby, floating like we’re deep inside an ocean / i’m talking with my hands, oh baby, here is my confession / baby we don’t need no reason, baby we don’t need to wait. ❞ - birthday by ten : smut ( status ) open !

18) ❝ don’t you wish it worked and we were on again? / feelings, do they ever die? / tell me what if we could start clean with no hard feelings between us, could we ever be? ❞ - sting by fletcher : angst with or without happy ending ( status ) open !

19) ❝ with a bottle of wine for two, though i’m already drunk off you / now i’m falling heavily, recklessly. trying not to lose my sensibility, but gravity, it pulls me into you. ❞ - couple of kids by maggie lindemann : fluff ( status ) open !

20) ❝ every time we touch it’s like the last time, holding onto something when it’s not right / maybe that thing you said under your breath, you mean it. / i guess i don’t know, where we took a wrong turn, everything got harder. ❞ - mean it by gracie abrams : angst without happy ending ( status ) open !

21) ❝ how could we know, that this was a happy disaster? / usually i’m fucked up, anxious, too much, but i love you like you need me to. ❞ - imperfect for you by ariana grande : angst with happy ending ( status ) taken !

22) ❝ 모든 게 영원할 순 없으니? let's do it 'til we pass out. you ready or not? 언젠간, 모두 끝이 날 테니. i don't wanna waste our time, no / soaked in your love, 아름다운 이 순간을. ❞ - rush in 2 u by one pact : fluff ( status ) taken !

23) ❝ feel what you need, so just leave it to me / you just have to climb, baby i can make you high / it doesn’t matter if you have some flaws / can’t nobody fuck you like me, baby hold this vibe, yeah. ❞ - skyline by i.m : smut ( status ) taken !

24) ❝ but now looking back i looked at you like nobody else / and i hate that it hurts, that his car isn’t yours. ❞ - his car isn't yours by wendy : angst with or without happy ending ( status ) open !

25) ❝ te encontré, me enamoré, en ti volé y caí / amores de noche, ajenos de día / tanto adiós nos hizo daño, y terminamos siendo extraños. ❞ - dos extraños by danna paola : angst without happy ending ( status ) open !

26) ❝ i want you to drunk text me, saying you still need me. tell me i’m not like her, i made you happier / ‘cause i’m no closer to closure. wish you weren’t sober. we’re over, but i’m not over it. ❞ - drunk text me by lexi jayde : angst with or without happy ending ( status ) open !

27) ❝ follow me home or stay, i don’t care either way / what if i stop breathing, could i get off easy? what if we got even, for all the wrong reasons? what could it change? ❞ - even by bad omens : angst with or without happy ending ( status ) open !

28) ❝ can you feel my heartbeat, when you hit it full speed? anywhere you take me, i’ll go / say you’re all mine. touch me under street lights. ❞ - passenger princess by nessa barrett : smut ( status ) taken !

29) ❝ i know that when it’s all done, i’ll hate you bad in the long run. but somehow it never ends, my heels on the edge of your bed again / ‘cause i know deep down that it’s never gon’ never be us, never gon’ never be more than just something that’s fucking me up. ❞ - run for the hills by tate mcrae : angst with smut ( status ) taken !

30) ❝ he’s like a poem i wish i wrote / oh god i’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up / i think i’m in love. ❞ - so american by olivia rodrigo : fluff ( status ) taken !

31) ❝ i don’t know your plans, i just wanna, uh, get some / fuck your ex man, i’m the man now. think i feel bad? he was fanned out. ❞ - girls by the kid laroi : smut ( status ) open !

32) ❝ what’s this new desire called? i didn’t know that much at all ‘bout love before, but now i think i’m learning. ❞ - bewitched by laufey : fluff ( status ) taken !

33) ❝ tonight, i don’t care what’s wrong or right. don’t start blowing up my line. i’d care at 11:59, but nothing counts after midnight. ❞ - perfect night by le sserafim : angst with happy ending ( status ) taken !

34) ❝ don’t ask why, but every little thing you do just drives me wild / there’s no touch or feeling, pleasure or pain, anything like the way you running through my veins. no breath or beauty, no sound or sight, that ever made me feel the way you do tonight. ❞ - eyes off you by prettymuch : fluff with or without suggestive content ( status ) taken !

35) ❝ 내 마음은 자꾸 너에게 달려가. 더 깊어지는 lovesick. 내 맘은 계속 clipping. 멈추지 못해 �� 너에게로 가 / you’re the one that i want, the one that i need, don’t wanna be free. ❞ - inside out by nu’est : fluff ( status ) taken !

36) ❝ what if you’re the only one that i ever needed? what if i had stopped you when you said you were leaving, no, won’t let you go / i can’t help but wonder where your head and heart is, maybe that’s the reason why i’m scared of calling. ❞ - what if by eric nam : angsty fluff ( status ) taken !

37) ❝ bebé, volvamos pa’ aquellos tiempos. noche de travesuras allá en mi carro, mojando asientos / dime, ¿qué vas hacer cuando otro man toque tu piel? ¿pensará en mí estando con él? ❞ - mojando asientos by maluma, feid : angst with smut and happy ending ( status ) taken !

38) ❝ all of those lies i told to you, all of those highs i stole from you. it was all out of my control, but i really want you to know the truth / maybe i had to lose you, to know how good i had it, to know how good that we were, to know i’m deep in regret. now your surface is cold, now you’re burnt to the core. ❞ - on my youth by wayv : angst with happy ending ( status ) taken !

39) ❝ can you come back? wait, i don’t mean that / so far away but i still feel you everywhere / you still show up in a dream. ❞ - in a dream by troye sivan : angst with or without happy ending ( status ) open !

40) ❝ ‘cause this love is only getting stronger / but i bet you if they only knew, they would just be jealous of us / they don’t know i’ve waited all my life just to find a love that feels this right. ❞ - they don’t know about us by one direction : fluff ( status ) taken !

now that you have your prompt, choose an idol from the list ⬎

enhypen : lee heeseung, park sunghoon, kim sunoo, park jay, shim jake, yang jungwon, or ( no smut ) nishimura niki

stray kids : han jisung, seo changbin, yang jeongin, lee minho, kim seungmin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin or bangchan

ateez : park seonghwa, kim hongjoong, jeong yunho, jung wooyoung, choi san, choi jongho, song mingi, or kang yeosang

evnne : terazono keita, yoo seungeon, ji yunseo, lee jeonghyeon, park hanbin, ( no smut ) park jihoo or ( no smut ) moon junghyun

xdinary heroes : kim jungsu, han hyeongjun, lee jooyeon, goo gunil, oh seungmin or kwak jiseok

seventeen : hong joshua, lee jihoon, kwon soonyoung, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan, choi seungcheol, yoon jeonghan, chwe vernon, xu minghao, jeon wonwoo or wen junhui

le sserafim : kim chaewon, miyawaki sakura, huh yunjin, ( no smut ) nakamura kazuha or ( no smut ) hong eunchae

the boyz : lee sangyeon, kim younghoon, lee juyeon, choi chanhee, lee jaehyun, kim sunwoo, sohn eric, ji changmin, bae jacob, moon kevin or juhaknyeon

riize : osaki shotaro, song eunseok, park wonbin, lee sohee, jung sungchan, lee anton or hong seunghan

&team : nakakita yuma, asakura jo, koga yudai, wang yixiang, byun euijoo, murata fuma, ( no smut ) shigeta harua, ( no smut ) takayma taki or ( no smut ) hirota maki

cravity : seo woobin, koo jungmo, ham wonjin, kim taeyoung, kang minhee, park serim, allen ma, ahn seongmin, or song hyeongjun

one pact : jay chang, lee yedam, yoon jungwoo, oh seongmin or yeom taegyun

nct : lee taeyong, wong kunhang, suh johnny, kim doyoung, jeong jaehyun, xiao dejun, huang renjun, nakamoto yuta, qian kun, na jaemin, liu yangyang, chittaphon ten, lee jeno, lee haechan, lee mark, park jisung, dong sicheng, kim jungwoo or zhong chenle

trendz : lee havit, kim donghyun, lee choonghyun, cho hankook, yi taehyun, kim eunil, or jeong yechan

zerobaseone : kim jiwoong, zhang hao, shen quanrui, kim gyuvin, sung hanbin, seok matthew, kim taerae, ( no smut ) park gunwook or ( no smut ) han yujin

boynextdoor : lee sanghyuck, myung jaehyun, han dongmin, kim donghyun, park sungho or ( no smut ) kim woonhak

aespa : yu jimin, uchinaga aeri, kim minjeong or ning yizhuo

ampers&one : na kamden, ho brian, choi jiho, ( no smut ) yoon siyun, ( no smut ) choi kyrell or ( no smut ) mackiah mercer

now that you have all your information, please send an ask here ˊˎ- and wait for it to come out !! i’ll change the status of said prompt so you know it’s been reserved for you c:

example ask / guide for if confused : ❝ hii, can i have ( insert number of prompt ) with ( insert idol name ) please? ( [ if required ] insert which prompt genre / ending you’d like ). thank you <3 ❞

.ᐟ.ᐟ sadly, if your ask does not have all the necessary information, i will most likely ignore it :( i tried to make it simple enough, but lmk if you have any questions / concerns ( *¯ ³¯*)♡

**if the slot has already been taken, for example if i'm away for a couple hours, i will reply to all the other asks containing the same prompt; excluding the first. you are free to choose a different prompt after that if you'd like !!

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u! © loserlvrss 2024 copying, translating & republishing are prohibited ! ( p.s thank you for all the support i love you all so much )

[sebsxphia]

bobby burns.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ description: you try some of bob’s, ma’s alcohol one night.

￫ c/w: alcohol, implications to sex, other than that it’s all fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ a/n: this is for @callsign-phoenix 1k celly here! a huge congratulations to you again my love! your writing is absolutely incredible and i’m so honored you asked me to participate. you deserve each and every one and more! <3

You turned your head to the sight of Bob coming out onto his Ma’s front porch. The screen door squeaks on it’s hinges and he’s got a thick, woolen throw draped around his shoulders. You can hear the clinking of two smaller glasses, together combined with the larger bottle of his Ma’s questionable alcohol she brewed herself.

“Here you are, darlin’.” Bob’s drawl was thicker as he kicked the front door shut behind with the heel of his boot. Somehow, coming back home to see his family really brought out the Southern in him, but you weren’t complaining. His voice sounded like it was laced thick with honey and in the fair few mornings you’d spent here, it sent a pool of heat in between your thighs when he wished you a good morning.

“What does she call this again?” You reach out from under your throw that’s draped around your shoulders as you sit on the porch swing to take the glasses from Bob.

“Ma’s Malicious Mixer.” Bob scoops his throw under his legs to tuck it neatly around him so he can huddle next to you comfortably. You throw him a questionable gaze.

“Mixer? Isn’t it like, eighty percent spirit?”

Bob raises his eyebrows in response and huffs out a chuckle.

“She likes it strong.” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing.

He pops the cork from the bottle with a satisfying sound and pours yourself and him two even shots in the miniature glasses. He places the bottle down onto the porch floor and takes his glass from your hand. You clink them together and he holds your gaze with a sweet smile.

“To us, m’ love.”

“To us, my dear Bobby.”

You throw your heads back in sequence and shot the liquor. It hits in the first millisecond and both of your faces contort into disgust, as you try and bear the vibrant taste. Bob’s face has settled back to normal, with a squint and twitch in his eyes, before the after wave hits the back of your throat like a fireball.

“Oh my god! Bobby! It burns!” You spit out in between gagging sounds from yourself. He cannot help but fall into a fit of laughter, but keeping it hushed as to not wake the rest of his family, who are currently sleeping peacefully upstairs in his family’s ranch house.

Bob brings one hand to your back to rub it soothingly through the thick throw. “You good, darlin’?” He’s still wearing a smug little grin on his face and you can’t help but choke out a laugh with him, at the pure absurdity of sweet Bobby’s Ma, making a concoction so deadly.

You throw him a thumbs up and rest back against his hand, moving it to drape around your shoulder and pull you in close, so you can huddle against his chest. You blow out a couple more streams of air as the fiery come down fades. Bob presses a soft kiss to the side of your temple, and you feel his chest rise and fall in a deep sigh. It’s not a frustated sigh, no. It’s a sigh of complete and utter ease.

“My family love you, y’ know. Ma was just tellin’ me before she went to bed.” Bob spoke up and you turned your head upwards to meet his gaze again.

“Really?”

He rested his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb across the small baby hairs that rested there. “Really.” He confirmed with pride and ever adoring love swelling in his chest. “She did want me to tell you however, the booze was a tiny, lil’ test, and I can confirm, you passed wi’ flyin’ colours.”

You gave him a small slap to the chest at his statement. “Bobby! It feels like it burned my esophagus off!”

Bob’s smile didn’t falter as he proudly declared with a slight cock in his head and a hum, “Yes, but! You’re part of the family now.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. You were so head over heels in love with your dear Bob and you wanted to make this work so badly. Meeting his family was the biggest anxiety you had had since day one, but knowing that you were now fully accepted, it made every worry in your body disappear.

You could really see yourself with him forever and with the way you shotted back that deadly alcohol, Bob could too.

taglist: @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

'Til Death Do Us Part║ ⓛⓘⓜⓘⓣⓔⓓ ⓢⓔⓡⓘⓔⓢ

| 'Til Death Do Us Part | fourth and final part of the Whistle in the Dark limited series ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x married!fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  20.2k 👀 | CONTENT: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, deranged Horny Demon Hours shit, cuckolding!, erotic gore, feticide/miscarriage, acts of service: extreme mode, bodily fluids in places they shouldn’t be, torture, brutality, inappropriate use of handheld tools, mental manipulation through violence, menstruation-centered erotic acts, cumplay?, kidnapping, the vibe of the pottery wheel scene from Ghost except violent, discussions of verbal/emotional/physical abuse, so much blood from multiple people, bloodplay, lots of things with a knife, WHAT!TOWN?!Joel

| SYNOPSIS: The tangled web of Matthew's deceit and manipulation have ensnared you and crafted a dismal end.

Please be aware that this installment in particular might be potentially triggering for SA/DV survivors who have dealt with the legal system and its many, many failings for the most vulnerable populations. Please read with care. 💜

You hear the dull rumblings of voices. The cadences vary from deep to soft to rushed and even some hazy amalgamation of all those things. Your head is pounding. Everything sounds like you’re underwater. Your lungs hurt like you’re underwater, too, like you’ve been submerged too long and haven’t taken a proper breath in ages. You’re stiff. You’re sore.

You’re alive.

The voices are becoming clearer - or maybe just louder - as they try to speak over one another. You can make out the sound of someone’s pitched, anxious whispering before a flurry of responses – 

“ —don’t give a flyin’ FUCK what any of ‘em hafta say.” “—protocol that can’t just be ignored.” “—obviously not what’s goin’ on here, Joel.”

Your head is throbbing with indecision over whether or not you want to try moving a limb. You manage a twitch of your fingers on your nondominant hand. That goes okay, so you chance some movement from the wrist up. Instant stiffness and discomfort. You whimper. The voices continue.

“—takin’ the law into your own hands–”

“—fuckin’ makeshift town at the end of the world. Ain’t no fuckin’ laws anymore, Tommy.”

“—always been a weak spot for you, Joel.”

The overhead lights sear your vision when you finally work up the strength to open your eyes. The blinding rush acts as some sort of sensory accelerant, a deluge of sensations hitting you from all sides at once now. Almost all of it is painful and prickling. Your eyes snap shut. You’re hyper aware of the fabric laying against your skin, rubbing and gritting against you even though you are still. The dull, tired thrum of your heart beats in time to some lost song. The escalating volume and tension of the argument happening at the end of your bed – what you assume is a bed, anyway – makes your head feel worse. 

Sound comes easier and clearer from one side of your head, the side that Matthew didn’t pummel.

Matthew.

Nebulous recollections leap into your consciousness, sharp and clear. The memory of him striking you makes you jerk. His taunts, his promises of your death and possibly his own if things didn’t go his way…

Matthew was going to kill you and then probably himself, all while Joel watched. The stimulus to cry comes over you, but no tears come. Exhaustion won’t allow it.

You hear a voice directly above you. “Baby?” It’s Joel, but he sounds off. He sounds worried. But Joel didn’t worry. That wasn’t like him. He just handled whatever came his way and moved on. This antsy, apprehensive voice belonged to a different Joel.

The sticky accumulation of grime and dried spit made it hard to move your mouth to respond. You wince at something wet and warm being gently dabbed against your lips.

“Hold still, honey. Just a minute now,” he soothes.

You peel your eyes open with immense effort and wait for the blurred shapes to come into focus. 

Tommy. Maria. Joel.

Hushed, sniping whispers shoot back and forth. You blink away the haze and take in your surroundings. It looks like the clinic. If you had any energy left for humor, you’d laugh at the irony of it all. The last time you were here was when you and Joel were treated for injuries you sustained on patrol together. It was the same day you’d walked home after being patched up only to discover Matthew and Natalie together in your bed. Your thoughts turn to ruminations of how this could’ve been avoided if you’d just told everyone the truth about Matthew right then and there. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe you wouldn’t have put people’s lives in danger.

“M’sorry,” you wheeze. It hurts to talk. You wonder how long you’ve been out.

“Don’t you dare,” Joel warns, stern and unwavering.

“Take it easy,” Maria calmly suggests. You aren’t sure if she means you or Joel. Probably both.

“Been through the wringer,” Tommy adds quietly. “No need to push yourself too much.”

You move your moistened lips back and forth a few times to prime yourself for speaking. “Where is he?”

The room is quiet as if they were all hoping it would take longer for you to arrive at that question.

“He can’t hurt you,” Joel insists. “Locked up. Can’t hurt nobody. Not anymore.”

“He’s being held at the correctional center until a clear narrative of what happened can be established,” Maria supplies, sounding almost clumsy in her terse delivery.

“He-He came into—was too fast–couldn’t–”

Your explanation is cut off with a cough. Your mouth is scratchy and dry. Joel helps you to sit up straighter, drawing a hissing groan of pain from you, and tilts a cup of what you assume is water onto your lips. You gently sip in small increments.

“How long?” Your voice is thick with sleep and pain.

“Been here a few days is all,” Tommy answers. “Been comin’ and goin’ but mostly just sleepin’. Got you some medicine onboard to help with it all. Been worried. ‘Specially this one.” He juts his chin towards Joel, who scowls in their general direction.

You’d grimace if you could stand the discomfort of it. You’d roped Joel into your bullshit just like you’d dreaded. Your mind warpspeed shifts to Ellie. Ellie. You startle in your weakened state. Joel seems to understand.

“She’s okay. Knew somethin’ was up before she even made it through the door. Smart kid.”

A heavy sigh of relief escapes you. With the situation as dire as it had been - and still is - Matthew only managing to harm you was the best case scenario. You maintain a neutral face as Joel fills in the blank spots in your memory. How Ellie had come back home to gather some clothes for her sleepover. How she’d felt something was off when she sensed the unnatural stillness of the house. How she spotted Matthew hovering over your unconscious body and thought he’d killed you.

Your heart wrenches at the thought of her seeing you like that. Ellie didn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for this. You’d brought pain onto her and Joel both. As Joel recounts how she’d run to Tommy’s for help, your lungs feel like they’ve shrunk. Apparently Matthew had been taken by surprise at her appearance, forgetting that she even lived there.

Leaders in the community spoke with Tommy. Spoke with Ellie. Even spoke with Joel and Natalie’s dad, after it came to light that Joel had sparked something in this entire collapse. Matthew had scrambled like a coward once Ellie outpaced him and went running for help. He was apprehended within the hour, and you were whisked away to the clinic even sooner.

Ellie showing up to get those clothes had probably saved your life. Your stomach gnaws and shreds itself with that piece of knowledge. This is exactly the sort of thing you’d wanted to avoid, and here you’d put so many through so much unnecessary hurt in such a short span of time.

Your stomach only felt all the more gutted as you listened to Tommy and Maria explain that interviews had been going on all while you’d been unconscious and Matthew had been in a retaining cell. Several of Matthew’s “conquests” had heard of all the news with his newly pregnant partner and the inappropriate conduct with a minor. They’d been called upon to share their testimony as to whether or not Matthew had ever suggested or carried out violent and abusive behavior towards them. They all truthfully attested that he had never been anything of the sort.

Joel shot Maria a nasty look when she volunteered the information about a few of them floating the idea that you had probably injured yourself and somehow lured Matthew to talk with you so that you could claim he’d done all this damage to you.

An idea that you were so desperate for revenge and to ruin his life that you would concoct an elaborate sort of story where such a thing would’ve happened. It was just the natural outflow of the groundwork he’d laid over the weeks about how you were supposedly physically aggressive, how you’d put hands on him before, how you weren’t the same person behind closed doors, how he’d finally put his foot down and left you.

It wasn’t just the town gossip Angelica that had been feasting on the morsels of lies that Matthew had been steadily feeding to sources that were sure to pass along such salacious information. Unfortunately for you, Matthew had always been a manipulative smooth talker, always ten steps ahead of you. He’d been setting the stage for this sort of situation, smart enough to assume at least a few of his past lover’s responses to the questions would lean towards this bastardization of events. So before anyone had even testified yet, he’d already fed the story to the leadership council. He fabricated some story about how you’d asked him to talk, and he felt sorry enough for you to agree to it.

Joel tries to shut the conversation down when he sees the tears brimming along your lashline, but you shake your head and insist on hearing it all. You have to know what you’re up against, and as Maria continues, you realize just how much of a monster you’re facing.

As it stands, his account of events is the sole firsthand statement on the situation, and it’s just as pernicious and artful as you would anticipate from a man like him. By his version of things, you’d begged him to talk to him, and he’d pitied you enough to oblige, meeting at Joel’s house as planned. When he came upstairs to find you, he discovered your intentional, self-inflicted injuries along with an already disrupted room, all meant to signal a struggle had taken place. You’d taunted him for walking right into your trap, insisting that Joel would be home soon and would react to protect you once he saw the scene you’d created. You’d laughed in his face about Joel fighting for your honor, willing to kill to protect you. All of it an elaborate ruse you’d arranged just so you could physically assault him and threaten his life. 

He’d enacted just enough self-defense to prevent you from fatally attacking him, avoiding your blows whenever possible because he didn’t want to fight back and hurt you somehow in the process even though it would’ve been in his right to do so. Ellie’s surprise appearance was “an intervention from the Lord above,” or so he’d thought at the time. When she discovered him standing calmly over your unmoving body, he realized she’d fallen right into your plan as well, running off thinking he’d been the perpetrator in all of this. Fearing that she was running to find Joel and bring him back to the house - just what your masterplan had been all along - he’d fled.

He didn’t deny the large kitchen knife he’d had on his person in the house, claiming he’d gone to grab it at some point when he’d finally managed to subdue your attacks. It was the only self-defense he had if you woke up and started attacking him again. His entire narrative was one of self-defense, of fearing for his life, of fleeing on foot once he feared either Joel or his brother Tommy were going to return with Ellie and retaliate for the perceived attack.

You feel frozen to the spot as you listen. The icy sense of dread crept through your veins as it all sunk in.

The boxes from unpacking had been strewn about and a mess as you’d tried to work through them. Coupled with the upturned items in the bedroom, it presented a space in disarray.  It backed up his version of events.

His body was riddled with defensive wounds from his fight with Natalie’s dad. Even with the word from John that he had in fact had a physical altercation with Matthew, it made it impossible to determine when and where his injuries had been sustained since no one else had seen Matthew between that encounter and his encounter with you. It backed up his version of events.

For all the ways he’d wronged you, he’d shown love and tenderness to a constellation of lovers, all of whom had truthfully testified that he had never once laid a hand on them, been verbally aggressive, or shown a hint of a temper. It backed up his version of events.

Your history of coming from a violent upbringing, of how you’d grown up in a world where it was normalized, was perhaps the source of your “continuation of that cycle” simply because “you’d never known anything else.” It was a particularly cold-hearted blow, and it backed up his version of events.

The knife in his hand, the weapon for his own protection if he were put in a dire spot because of your insistence on physically assaulting him, could’ve easily been used to murder you. But he didn’t. He’d had plenty of time to do it if that had been his intent, so why was he instead just “hanging around”? Why, if he had gone there to assault and murder you, hadn’t he just done it? It backed up his version of events.

He was not striking you, harming you, or aggressively engaging with you in any way when Ellie came home. She’d only seen him calmly waiting with your unconscious form. Her insistence that “it obviously didn’t seem right” fell on deaf ears. She’d only been telling the truth when she testified that she didn’t personally witness any attacks from either party.  It backed up his version of events.

With a “beautiful baby on the way” and the path to “finally making decisions for a better life,” the legitimacy of his motive was questionable at best. You on the other hand had been left “bitter and jilted” by his decision to break things off and move on with someone else. He had everything to live for, everything going for him. You’d lost everything and been “left behind.” It backed up his version of events.

Each intricate, sinister lie entwined delicately into the next, so well explained and proactively contradicting to your version of events - the truth. Each fictitious strand clung to the next until a tapestry of deception had been woven, blanketing any hope you’d ever have in refuting each of the claims. He’d gotten ahead of the narrative, all because you were drifting in and out of consciousness from the battered state he’d put you into, no less.

He’d already won. He’d already won, and you hadn’t even had a chance to speak a word of truth.

The strict orders from medical staff to “take it slow” were laughable. A handful of residents were calling for your own stint in a retaining cell until all the investigation had been completed. That handful grew over the next several days while the council continued gathering all the information about the situation, getting witness accounts starting from when you got back from the patrol trip. It was a lot of information to go through and determine what was true and what wasn’t, what was embellished or glossed over.

You never strayed from the truth when you gave your piece to the Council, but it felt like it didn’t even matter. It had already been whittled down to a “he said, she said” situation. You wanted so badly to keep the faith that Council was simply doing their due diligence in getting all the facts prior to making such a huge decision as whether or not Matthew would be asked to leave Jackson…. or perhaps you. After you’d been placed on house arrest in lieu of a retaining cell - thanks to Maria’s shrewd intervention - you knew you’d truly lost.

It didn’t matter that Maria had convinced them – lied on your behalf —  that you weren’t medically stable enough for the holding cells and would require frequent medical supervision. It didn’t matter that she’d gently coached  you on the importance of delivering your official testimony without the visual of Joel next to you. It didn’t matter how she’d pressed the importance of not reacting to anything too abruptly unless you wanted to paint yourself as the violent, volatile assailant that Matthew had claimed you were.

None of it mattered. You’d been abused for so long. You’d been through hell with Matthew. You’d lost so much. He humiliated you. He beat you. He intended to take your life that day. And yet, here you were, sat in the same room with said man who looked deceptively forlorn and stressed. You had to watch and calculate every action and reaction of yours today so that you were a believable victim, a credible picture of a woman wronged, the embodiment of the innocent hostage to an opportunistic man. Nevermind the fact that the man in question had nearly killed you and would attempt it again if given the right opportunity and was only a glance away from you this very moment.

There wasn't a large number of people present for the hearings. The town Council. Founding residents. Longtime respected pillars within the community. All were called upon to hear your official testimonies of your version of events. Matthew went first. He tucked his body into itself, looking smaller and more unsure. He didn’t look at you. You couldn’t look away.

“I-I was trying to do the right thing, is wh-what I thought. Ya know, talk to her even though I knew she wasn’t too happy about me ending our relationship,” he sniffs pathetically. “I just.. I didn’t think, even after all she’d done to me, I didn’t think she’d do this. I mean, the whole set up. Framing me? Trying to trap me into a place where I’d lose everything because - I don’t even know -  I guess that’s what she felt I’d done to her?”

He shakes his head and laughs humorlessly at his hands that he fidgets back and forth nonstop. All a carefully curated and executed display from a master manipulator.

“I’m not gonna sit here and say I’m proud for all my actions. I know messing around with somebody who’s close to 18 doesn’t mean they’re an adult yet. She was the only one I’d ever — I never went after somebody just because they were younger. It was a stupid, stupid decision. I was just– I was just so lonely.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, mouth opening and closing like he can’t quite believe things had “gone this far.” When he shifts in his seat, you notice several others in the room readjust their own posture, maybe out of discomfort or maybe just subconsciously mirroring Matthew’s body language. You keep your teeth clamped together to stop from worrying your lip so hard it bleeds.

“After all the constant verbal takedowns and abuse from her—” he glances your direction for only a moment, just long enough for others to follow his line of sight and see he is talking about you, to you “—I was just broken. I-I wasn’t even myself anymore. I started making choices that aren’t me. I started getting with any woman who’d have my company. I was desperate for it. Desperate for anything other than the hell that was waiting for me at home.”

He shakes his head again, producing big tears to gather and fall down his face. He hitches his breath and sniffs louder now.

“I made bad choices, and I own up to those. But the idea that after finally being man enough to leave that type of situation…. To finally make a home and start a family with somebody who loves me and cares for me… It just doesn’t make sense. Why would I throw all that away? What, because she was with someone else? Of course not!” he laughs in that same humorless way again.

“I just only hoped he wasn’t gonna get it bad like I did all those years. I hoped and prayed she’d find peace with him - with anyone. If she could find some peace, maybe she wouldn’t need to do all of that, you know? To find whatever it is that she’s looking for, because god knows I’m not it.”

He pauses to wipe the palm of his hand roughly against his cheeks to clear away his tears. “I wished for so long to be able to be the guy to help her. I didn’t know why I wasn’t enough, I just knew that I never was.” He hangs his head in his hands for a moment before looking upward as though seeking divine guidance. 

“I just ask that the council please take into consideration her upbringing. The day I met her, she was getting beat to death by her own damn flesh and bone. Her father and brother were set to kill her. Can you even imagine that? That type of evil? How can someone coming from that know any better? She needs help. She doesn’t need to be kicked out of this place. I know what she’s done is horrible, but please, if there’s anything that can be done to-to, I don’t know- to rehabilitate her or therapy or something. Please don’t send her out those gates to die. Please. I may have decided to break things off with her, but I still care for that woman so deeply. Please.”

You feel close to retching. He’s made a strong case for himself all while casting a shadow of doubt and fault in your direction. You can feel the eyes of every Jackson resident called to attend the hearing falling squarely on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at them anymore. What if you don’t convey the right emotion? What if your efforts to not empty the contents of your stomach onto the floor right now somehow read as guilt or remorse? What if your nerves and body language and facial expression and sounds and posture are interpreted as some admission of wrongdoing?

You can’t stare at your hands any longer if you want to avoid appearing like you’re hanging your head in defeat or regret or fault, so you settle for pushing through the queasiness and scanning the faces of the Council in front of you. A few faces remain stony or neutral, but just as many if not more have softened or, worse, looked away from Matthew at the discomfort of seeing a grown man weeping so openly. If it isn’t seen as an authentic act, that would have to mean he was some brutal, manipulative monster to fake such a moving display of grief and pain - a monster they’d allowed to live right under their noses this whole entire time. Admitting that’s who he really was would be in part admitting their own fault at not keeping Jackson safe.

The lie is working.

Midday break is called, and the air in the room feels like every particle of oxygen is dampened and weighted with the inevitability of your downfall. Matthew was going to walk away from this situation unscathed, and then he was going to kill you. 

You just have to sit and wait for him to kill you. 

The tremble in your hands is such that you can’t get a firm enough grip on the doorknob to get into the private adjunct room where you’d be spending break. Ellie reaches around you and turns it quickly, giving you a gentle nudge inside with Joel following closely behind. The door is no sooner shut than you double over a bin and start heaving. Joel doesn’t make a face or comment on the odor. He just helps you get straightened up before taking out the soiled container. The smell of your ruination lingers as you collapse into a nearby chair and break into sobs.

Joel returns with food you can’t imagine stomaching and water you reluctantly sip. He doesn’t speak, just pulls you close against him.

“He’s gonna kill me, Joel,” you shake out. “They believe him. He’s gonna walk away from this, and then he’s gonna kill me.” The last few words dissipate into a hitched octave, full of fear and defeat.

“No he ain’t,” Joel corrects sternly. You can only shake your head and cry, at a loss for words in this surreal situation.

“They can’t actually be buying that story!” Ellie argues. “Nobody would believe that shit! Right, Joel?”

When Joel doesn’t rush to corroborate her assessment, Ellie seems to deflate a bit. “You-you’re not serious. People think he’s innocent?”

Her tone of comprehensive disbelief is as fitting now as ever. You can’t believe this is happening, but at the same time you also know deep down this was always the only way this would go.

“We know the truth, Ellie,” Joel sighs. “People are weak. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my life, it’s that you can’t count on people to do the right thing.” He finally pulls back to look at you. Your face crumples when you catch his apologetic expression. He’s as powerless in this situation as you are.

“But what about all those times she saved your life on patrol? And taking up for everybody’s shifts and covering people’s asses? How the fuck is that a bad person? Somebody that would plan something awful like that? Like, what? There’s no fucking way!” she sputters.

You blink unfocused at the floor, unsure of what to say or do. You want to comfort Ellie, but you don’t want to lie or get her hopes up. You know how this story ends.

“I don’t even give a shit if you did do something bad to him. Fuck it! I don’t believe him. I believe you. And he deserves every bit of what he gets, and then some!” Ellie asserts in a passionate appeal.

Despite everything, you smile to yourself. Ellie and Joel might not be blood, but they are certainly family in the way that it counts. And these two staunch supporters were in your corner, so you must be doing at least one thing right.

Joel cups your face in his hands and directs your attention to him, all  fiery eyes and steely expression. “No one is going to hurt you. He’s not going to hurt you.”

He says it with such firmness and conviction, you want to believe him. You brush away the fat tears slipping down the curve of your cheek. It’s silent again in the room, and Joel goes back to just sitting with you and holding you. He’s quiet and a little detached. It’s probably for the best. If he starts distancing himself now, it might make it easier on everyone when this too good to be true dynamic comes to an end.

The end of break comes and goes without anyone arriving to collect you for the afternoon session. Ellie points it out, the first person to speak in what seems like forever. Just as Joel starts to get up to see what the delay is, Tommy scoots into the room. He gives you a sympathetic, curt bow of his head and glances at Joel.

“Listen, I think there’s some funny business goin’ on with Matthew. I don’t know exactly what the hold up is, but I’ve seen a few of the higher ups come and go outta his room.”

“What the fuck is that s’posed’ta–” Joel starts as the door opens again.

Maria and another Council member squeeze into the ever shrinking room. It’s one of the members who had looked away while Matthew forced himself to cry. The air feels thinner with all the crowding and news of Matthew’s odd behavior. Somehow you still hold enough space for worry that they will be able to smell the remnants of your vomit from earlier.

“Alright, folks, sorry for the delay. Looks like we’re gonna pick up tomorrow morning from where we left off today. The, uh, other party isn’t in much condition right now to carry on, so we’re gonna adjourn for right now,” the Council member explains.

You don’t even have to turn to Joel to know his nostrils are flared and fists clenched. No one says anything, and the palpable tension in the room hangs awkwardly in the space.

“He put forth a request for additional time to collect himself after the ‘emotionally draining’ testimony that was given this morning. Given his disposition we all saw and the fact that it’s not our intent to put anyone into a position of distress during this process, Council has granted his request on a one-time basis,” Maria adds.

You bite back a scathing remark. You have been nothing but distressed. You just didn’t have the luxury of letting your emotions run wild lest you portray yourself as some volatile, unstable person - the type of person who would do all the things Matthew has charged you with. You can’t afford the negative attention that a big show of emotion would likely garner, so you just do all that you can: keep it calm and keep it moving.

You wish that you’d been able to get the first word. You wish you’d been able to get ahead of the narrative so that it benefited you - benefitted the truth. You wish that you could also be seen as brave and raw and moving if you cried in front of everyone. But Matthew had got the drop on you and delivered his “authentic devastation” to a panel of sympathetic ears. His inability to control his emotions was not a point of instability or weakness in their consideration like it might be if the roles were reversed.

Maria catches your eye. Her frown morphs into a tight lipped line, like she wants to say something to you but can’t. She looks at Joel for a moment before focusing on her counterpart.

Tommy clears his throat to dispel some of the charged climate. “Alright. Thanks for lettin’ us know. You need any help gettin’ him back to the retainer, Cliff?”

The Council member shakes his head. “Appreciate you offering, but I think they got it handled. He’s pretty out of sorts at the moment. Don’t think it’ll be much trouble getting him back.”

Tommy nods an acknowledgment and turns to Maria. “I’ll see to it she gets back to the house.” He tips his head your direction. Maria gives a quick thanks and heads out behind the other Council member, giving a tepid, short goodbye.

The walk back to Joel’s house is a disjointed, hazy blur. You’re inside, although you don’t have a clear notion of when that happened. Joel helps you out of your jacket as you stare blankly ahead. You hear Tommy murmur something to Joel that sounds something like “she alright?”

“Hey.” Joel’s voice is grounding and firm. You blink a few times and lock eyes. He’s grasping your arms like he’s holding you up. He might be. You’re not entirely sure at the moment. Every ounce of energy has been zapped from you. It all feels like a waking nightmare.

Low words are exchanged, and Ellie leaves the three of you in the kitchen. You settle clumsily into one of the chairs at the table and rest your head in your propped up arms. Joel and Tommy continue a conversation you drift in and out of.

“Considering he’s goin’ back to a retaining cell, there’s not a whole lotta reason people are gonna find to assume he’s just fakin’ it all. Ain’t the most lavish of places ‘n all that. Council meeting space is a lot more comfortable than that, so ya can’t say he’d be in some big rush to get back there,” Tommy reasons.

“Piece of shit just wants everybody to sit with his bullshit statements from this mornin’. Sleep on it and get his lies all embedded in their heads,” Joel scoffs.

“I don’t doubt that,” Tommy agrees gently. “I’m just sayin’ that you gotta keep in mind how things look, is all.”

“Are they going to ask me about his testimony?” you rasp.

The two brothers turn to you in sync. Joel is the first to pull a chair up next to yours. Tommy opts to stand at the end of the table with one hand mindlessly picking at the tablecloth.

“What do you mean, honey?” Joel asks softly.

“He talked about stuff. Today. And if I’m supposed to… defend myself, or whatever, I just– I want to know what sort of questions they’re going to ask me,” you explain.

Tommy and Joel exchange a look. You lick your dry lips and force the words out.

“Am I– Do I have to talk about my–about my dad and brother?” you choke out in a whisper.

Tommy scratches the back of his neck and looks away in much the same way as others had done to Matthew this morning when the discomfiting outpouring was too much. “I, uh, I reckon they might wanna follow up on some of what he shared, yeah. To get your side of things.” His expression pinches into an uncomfortable frown.

Your face falls when he confirms what you already knew: you were going to have to speak publicly on the most horrendous times in your life, and for no reason other than Matthew had purposefully brought it into the fold. You wrap your arms around yourself and rest your forehead against the table as you begin to cry for the millionth time today.

A strong hand from either side rests on your shoulder and back. Joel rubs small circles while Tommy gives a supportive squeeze. The tears flow freely as your fate comes into the clear. You were never going to be able to pull off being more believable than Matthew. You were never going to be able to remain composed enough to make it through this. Matthew was going to win, and then he was going to kill you.

“We’re gonna figure somethin’ out. I promise you that,” Joel vows.

“I can have Maria come by later to get a better idea of what we’re workin’ with exactly come tomorrow mornin’,” Tommy adds.

Joel pulls you against his side and wraps his arms around you. “Do you trust me?”

You blubber that you do, but it’s a mess of tears and snot as you try to explain that you’ve underestimated Matthew too many times to not have learned your lesson by now.

“Not this time,” Joel disagrees. “We’re gonna stay a step ahead of him. No matter what.”

You let him herd you into the bedroom that he’s completely rearranged so you’re not reminded of what happened here not that long ago. You’re sure Matthew prides himself on leaving you with that particular mental scar, the sacred comfort of you and Joel’s shared bedroom now tainted with memories of one of the scariest moments of your life. Joel had offered to move you both into the guest bedroom across the hall, but you declined. It felt like giving in, giving Matthew another win.

Now you aren’t so sure it really matters.

You settle into the cold bed, trying your best to focus on the scent of Joel on the sheets, and let your eyes flutter shut when he presses small kisses to your temple before going back downstairs to talk with Tommy.

The mellow sunlight filtering through the window suggests you slept longer than intended. Your muscles are sore. Your movements are stiff. How long had you been asleep? The whole hearing process must’ve truly exhausted you. Surely Joel would’ve woken you up if Maria had already arrived.

The smell of eggs wafting up the stairs leads you to the curious sight of breakfast on the table. Panic sets in once you register that you not only slept through the afternoon and the entire night, but you’d also missed Maria’s visit and advice. You hadn’t prepped at all. Joel assures you he’s got it covered and asks you to just take a breath and eat something.

You aren’t sure you can eat, but he coaxes you into some bites. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept. He promises you that he talked with Tommy and Maria and feels confident he can lead you in the right direction. You have no choice but to trust him. Ellie stays home today at Joel’s request. You ask how he managed that given how passionate she was yesterday. He shrugs and gives a noncommittal answer. You don’t press him. In all truth, you’re grateful that she won’t be present for today’s proceedings.

Prying eyes follow your every step to the Council building on Main Street. You refuse to meet any of them. You’re ushered by a standoffish attendant into the same small room where you sat for break yesterday and wait to be called into the main room.

You mention to Joel how odd the attendant was acting. He agrees but doesn’t seem all that surprised. Just as you’re getting the sense that Joel isn’t saying everything on his mind, the same Council member from yesterday enters the room.

“Cliff,” Joel greets curtly.

Cliff nods back in lieu of social niceties. “So it seems that Matthew was going through something more than we realized. We have reason to believe that, uh, that he has left Jackson indefinitely.”

Your shock propels you out of your seat. “What?!”

Joel stands quickly beside you and echoes your disbelief. “Who the hell let him leave?!” he thunders.

Cliff puts his hands up, palm side out, as if to allay the sudden uproar. “We’re gathering information as quickly as we can. We were alerted just this morning about all of this.”

“He tried to fuckin’ MURDER HER, and you’re tellin’ me you don’t know where he is?!” Joel bellows at a slowly cowering Cliff.

“We are doing everything within our power to sort this out, and I assure you that you aren’t the only one who is invested in getting to the bottom of this!” Cliff asserts with a put-on bravado.

“How do you know he left? Who let him past the gates? Who saw him?” Joel demands, rounding on Cliff.

“I’m not able to answer every single question you have, Joel,” he sputters. “I already told you this is a fast developing situation, and we’ve only just started piecing things together. It’s best if everyone just keeps a level head, alright?”

Joel doesn’t look much satisfied with Cliff’s offerings. “Keep a level head? KEEP A LEVEL HEAD?”

“Joel!” Maria barks through the door as she rushes in and shuts it behind her. “Enough! You’re so loud I can hear you down the hall!”

“What kinda establishment you got here, huh? Fuckin’ would be murderers just waltzin’ outta their cells as they please and nobody is any the wiser?” he spits.

You wrap a hand around Joel’s arm, and it thankfully seems to calm him a little.

“Joel, she just brought the letter to us a few hours ago. We’re trying to keep a hold of the situation, and you going off isn’t helping,” she chides.

“What letter? Who?” you choke out. You cling to Joel’s arm to steady yourself as the realization that Matthew has escaped starts to sink in.

Maria’s face softens as she turns to you. “Rachel. Rachel Harmon. She discovered a letter on their kitchen table early this morning. It was addressed to her with a portion written to the Council.

“The dipshit stupid enough to get knocked up by that psychopath?” Joel snips.

You give his arm a gentle squeeze. He glances down at you. You give a small shake of your head. Not now. He understands and chews the inside of his cheek against his molars.

Maria shuts her eyes and sighs, exercising some self-control in the charge of Joel’s anger. “His pregnant partner, yes,” she firmly corrects. Her eyes shift back to you. “I know it has been a difficult process, but if you could look at the letter and possibly verify whether it is his handwriting…”

“You manage to fuck up the VERY SIMPLE TASK of not letting a fuckin’ wannabe murderer escape, and now you’re askin’ his latest victim to help you? I don’t fuckin’ think so!” Joel thunders. He puts himself between you and the others.

“With all due respect, Joel, that’s not your decision to make,” Maria snips back in the same level tone as before.

“I’ll look at it,” you agree. Everyone turns to look at you as you stand there, shaking and trying to hold it together. “I can tell you if it’s his or not.”

“No. The reason Rachel can’t verify his handwriting — the fuckin’ father of her baby — is because Rachel doesn’t fuckin’ know him. Nobody does in the entire godforsaken place,” he finishes with a scowl thrown towards Maria and Cliff. “She knows him better than anybody – and she’s been tryna tell y’all the truth about him – but y’all wanna play this pretend court of law bullshit where there’s supposedly some kinda due process. As if she didn’t end up black and blue from that prick. Y’all seemed to forget all about that with his little waterworks yesterday, huh?”

Cliff looks appropriately chastised. Maria fixes Joel with a stern frown. “If you’re done showing your ass, we have work to do.”

You tug at Joel to get his attention. His angry face meets yours and deciphers the resignation written into every frown and troubled wrinkle.

He huffs and glares at Cliff and Maria. “Bring the letter.”

Cliff volunteers himself to fetch the letter, probably in an effort to excuse himself from Joel’s wrath. Maria holds steady and suggests everyone take a seat and take a breather. You slump into the chair. Your adrenaline is shot. Your mind feels like all the crucial cogs have hit a rut and won’t turn the gears. All the backup machinery of your mind is trying to keep up with things well beyond its capacity. When Cliff returns with the letter, it takes a moment to focus on the document placed before you. Your eyes adjust to read its contents.

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕,

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠" 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎. 𝚆𝚎’𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎, 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜.

𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗.

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.

𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

Your stomach bottoms out as you scan the lines of text. “That’s his writing,” you confirm with a feeble shake of your head. You can’t understand how he escaped or why. It didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t like him. Your tongue feels thick and heavy as you try to find the words to express these concerns.

“Doesn’t explain how he managed to escape,” Joel clips.

“We believe his, uh, emotional difficulties yesterday were enough of a distraction to the attendants that they didn’t notice him taking the key off them,” Cliff explains with a notable pink flush on his cheeks.

“So you got swindled, and now a murderer is on the loose?” Joel sneers.

“Joel, if you can’t keep it civil, then I’m going to have to ask Tommy to see you out of here,” Maria warns.

“You want to keep things civil, but you can’t even keep one asshole in a cell?” he bites back. “You’re tellin’ me nobody noticed he was gone in the middle of the night? How in the fuck did that happen, huh? Somebody sleepin’ on the job?”

Cliff adjusts in his seat and sits a little taller. The rosy flush morphs into a deep red and spreads down his neck. “He, uh, he arranged his bedding to look like—”

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Joel snorts in disbelief. “He bundled up some blankets to look like a body? Like in the fuckin’ movies? And you fell for it?”

Cliff clears his throat and can’t quite meet you or Joel’s eye. Maria huffs, clearly exasperated by Joel’s condescending ire.

“Sounds real fuckin’ convenient, doesn’t it? That he managed all this by himself?” Joel challenges in a low, dangerous voice.

“Watch it, Joel,” Maria cautions. “If you’re suggesting there’s some sort of foul play or outside help, you’re dead wrong, and I’d be careful going around making such bold, suggestive claims.”

Joel laughs without a trace of amusement and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. Maria’s jaw clenches tight with annoyance. Joel had told you before how his and Maria’s relationship was rocky at best, and this entire situation was just oxygen to a flame. You respected Maria greatly, but it felt good to have Joel stick up for you so fiercely.

“We’re done here. Until y’all get your shit together, don’t come botherin’ her. I’m walkin’ her home, and I’m gettin’ a rifle from the patrol station. You have my word if that asshole shows up, I’m shootin’ him dead on the spot.” Joel’s nostrils flare, hands slamming onto the table as he abruptly stands.

Much to your surprise, neither Cliff nor Maria take him to task on any of it.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go home,” Joel says softly to you, extending his hand for you to take.

True to his word, Joel obtained a firearm and made no attempt to downplay his intent to use it if necessary. He kept by your side, gun ready at all times, as the days pressed on. Tommy stopped by a few times a day, sometimes with updates and sometimes with nothing. By the time day three rolled around, you hadn’t learned anything that made sense of the ordeal.

Matthew had managed to steal his cell key from an attendant, leave his cell with a decoy blanket body in place, get into his and Rachel’s house to write and leave the letter, sneak into reserves and stables to gather up supplies and a horse, and, perhaps most daring of all, getting past the main gates. All without being seen or caught.

It wasn’t that he was incapable of such deceit. It’s that he left when he was already winning. That’s what bothered you the most. He was winning, and Matthew would never forfeit an opportunity to get the best of you and put you in your place. When you’d mentioned this to Joel and even Tommy, neither seemed too concerned with this crucial piece of the puzzle. Joel himself had said that you knew Matthew better than anybody, and it was starting to wear on you that even he wasn’t taking your concerns seriously. He insisted you just needed to keep a low profile and rest. Your pure exhaustion meant you didn’t put up much of a fight to his insistence.

Rachel gave her account to the Council regarding her and Matthew’s previous discussions around leaving Jackson. She tearfully recounted the few times he had spoken to her about “needing to get out of town in a hurry,” but she “never thought he meant like this.” You believed he’d had these talks with her, but not in the context of starting a new life somewhere else. You knew with every fiber of your being that he had spoken about leaving Jackson in a rush in reference to murdering you and either taking himself out with you or fleeing before facing the consequences, whichever came to be the right choice at the time.

It was coming up on five days since Matthew left. You provided your testimony yet again to the Council but didn’t share anything you hadn’t already. It was just under 15 minutes when they’d called everyone back into the room to announce you were considered absolved of any potential wrongdoings as it was impossible to confidently confirm which party had committed what actions. You were given a stern warning that any “untoward behavior” would result in immediate cause for dismissal from Jackson. You agreed to the terms, knowing that you had never been and never would be a problem.

Despite your partial exoneration, it felt like a hollow victory. You still fret to Joel about when Matthew returns and in what capacity. You’re worrying yourself sick with the looming fear of his return. If he was able to evade watchful eyes and escape, he was more than capable of getting back inside the settlement and doing god knows what. What if he didn’t find anything out there? What if he decides to come back and stay? What if he changes his mind and insists that you should be made to leave Jackson instead of him?

You sleep to get away from reality, but your dreams are plagued with nightmares of Matthew above you, choking the life out of you. You can hardly eat. Joel seems so calm somehow. You don’t know how he manages it. It might just be a show of strength to make you feel safer, but all it’s done is make you feel more frustrated. Why doesn’t he seem concerned? Why doesn’t he have the same energy about “staying one step ahead of Matthew” that was so fiery just a short time ago? A week out from your gift of grace from Council, you can’t take it any longer. Matthew has been gone for almost two weeks, and you want to tear your hair out.

“Why don’t you listen to me?” you whisper. Talking any louder guarantees you will break into a fit of tears. You’re afraid. You’re sleep deprived despite sleeping almost constantly. You’re hurt that Joel seems so detached and unbothered from the situation.

Joel’s head snaps up from his task. He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean, honey?” He sets his things aside and moves towards you. 

You take a step away and hug yourself, shaking your head. “I-I keep telling you that something isn’t right, but you don’t seem bothered at all. I feel—I feel so alone, Joel.” So much for not crying. The hot pinch in your eyes spills over as you bury your head in your hands. 

Joel is quick to snatch you up into a tight embrace. “No, baby. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.” 

He rocks you side to side and shushes you. You can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t on the same page as you. A sickening thought tears through your mind, one you hadn’t felt since that day when Matthew gave his testimony.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Are you… Do you want me to go?” Your eyes go wide in dismay. Of course. You’ve been so distracted with everything going on that you didn’t even stop to consider the obvious: Joel wants out. This is too much for him. Too much for Ellie. This isn’t what he signed up for, playing personal bodyguard to you 24/7. He wants his life back. You can’t even blame him. Why would he choose this? Why would he choose you?

You’ve already accepted it before Joel can reply. You feel completely numb. Matthew was right. All those times he tried to tell you that no one would want you, and you decided to believe otherwise.

“What?” Joel scoffs. “What the hell? No, I don’t want you to leave! What the hell are you— Why on earth would you—” He shakes his head like he’s offended you’d even suggest such a thing. He’s gobsmacked into silence as he searches your face for some sort of clarity.

“But you—you’ve been so distant with all this Matthew stuff. A-And I just, I know it’s too much–I’m too much, and—” You ramble and try to control the flood of tears cascading down your face and neck.

“No. No, honey,” he says flatly. He shakes his head again like he can’t understand how you’d come to that conclusion. He sits you on the couch and pushes himself between your legs. He cradles your face so that you’re eye to eye with each other.

“I’m in love with you,” he states with conviction. Not a hint of reluctance or hesitation is in his voice. You can’t understand it.

“What?” you choke.

“I said I’m in love with you. I love you. It scares the hell outta me, but I do. I love you. I don’t want you to leave, not ever,” he continues. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead to yours.

“You? You love me?” you repeat.

He nods firmly a few times and pulls back to look at you. “Yeah. I do. I really, really do.”

“I–Joel—” you break. “I-I love you, too, Joel. I love you so much. I’ve loved you for so much time now. It’s been so much time, Joel. I never said it. I thought I was going to die before I could tell you—thought he was going to kill me before I could—”

Joel cuts you off with a deep, biting kiss. Your breath comes ragged and frantic with the reciprocal admission and overwrought nerves. You can’t stop crying, and you’re not even sure you know why you’re crying or what you’re crying about at this point. Everything has come to a bottleneck, and there’s no stopping the outpouring  deluge.

Joel draws back for a moment to catch his breath. He considers you with a contemplative gaze for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied that I wasn’t pickin’ up on how alone I was makin’ you feel.”

You swallow and ask a question you aren’t sure you want the answer to. “What’s b-been keeping your attention?”

Joel’s lips form a thin line. He holds your searching eye and finally nods. “I haven’t been honest with you. Been waitin’ until it was the right time. I guess now is the right time.”

Your mouth turns down at the vague explanation. “Joel, I don’t know what—”

“Tonight,” he interrupts. He sounds resolute, like he’s finally decided on something. “Tonight I’m gonna show you. Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to sleep after all of that, but you try anyway.

You’re quiet as the horse carries you and Joel through the dense wooded areas outside the settlement. You’d exited through the cover of a passage at the edge of the barrier you didn’t even know existed, but you didn’t ask questions. You just sat quietly and waited to see what Joel was going to show you, what the answer to all your questions was going to be.

The moonlight slipped through the branches, the dapple of a dull glow lighting the path forward, wherever that may be. You hug close against Joel and rest your head on his shoulder as the horse meanders further, past the dam, past the typical patrol points. You hold on tighter at his instruction when he turns off into a steep, obscured ravine. It levels off at the bottom, and you’re beginning to wonder just how far into the outlands this clandestine destination is. Joel slows the horse to an ambling gait and veers into an overgrown pocket of woods.

“This is it,” he announces calmly as he dismounts. He assists you off the horse, and guides it into a concealed alcove already housing three other horses. The only indication that this is even frequented by travelers is a dug-out firepit some several yards away. You start to ask where you’re going now when he points out the telltale edge and turn of a man made structure in the compact stretch of greenery and woodlands. You’re almost a stone’s throw from the camouflaged house before you recognize it, hidden in the distance to anyone not already familiar. He holds firm onto your hand as if you’re one surprise away from being scared off completely. He guides you through the entrance of the house after brushing aside well-placed bits of facade and coverings.

You have a million and one questions, and a singular unknown has been halfway answered when your eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior. Two of the horses must belong to Tommy and Natalie’s father, John, who each sit on aging furniture in what you think was once a sort of living space. They offer a quick greeting, one that you’re too flummoxed to return. They don’t seem surprised at your unannounced arrival. You realize Joel must’ve already looped them in. You know it’s all in due time, but it’s difficult to not grow impatient and nervous as to when exactly all your questions will be answered.

“I’ll holler if we need anythin’,” Joel informs the pair before grabbing a flashlight from a crooked end table and leading you down a dark hallway to the left. He stops in the middle of it, checks over his shoulder that you’re out of earshot, and runs his eyes lazily over your features. “You doin’ okay?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I guess I’m alright. Just sort of feel, I dunno–” You aren’t sure why you’re whispering, but it feels appropriate for conversation in the mysterious, dark hallway of the secret, hidden house. “I trust you – I do – but I’m just getting more and more nervous with every—”

Joel grazes his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t need to feel nervous, pretty girl. Not anymore. Never again. I told you I got you, and I do. So now I’m gonna show you, okay? Can you let me do that? Just hold on for a little bit longer for me?”

You swallow down your fear and concede to his plea. “Yes. Okay. I can. I mean, I will.” A deep, grounding breath, and then, “ I’m ready. I trust you.”

Joel shoots you a lopsided grin. “There’s my girl. Pretty thing.” He leans down to give you a quick kiss, and you chase his lips when he draws back. “Plenty of time for that soon enough.”

He walks you to the end of the hallway and stops short of the solid paneled wall. He runs his hand down the edge of the decorative molding, stopping on some unseen point and pressing into it until a soft click sound is heard on the other side of the wall. “Hold onto my shoulder on the way down, okay? Don’t want you fallin’.” He nudges the bottom of the wall, and the entirety of it swings forward, revealing a small opening and staircase.

“Ready?”

Your eyes go a little wide, jaw a little slack, but you just nod and grab onto his jacket as you both descend into the murky space. You duck your head a few times whenever Joel does. He’s clearly been here many, many times to be so well-acquainted with every low hanging beam and jutted bit of framing. You reach the bottom and pause again. He raises a hand to the side, flicking some other out of sight thing, and a camping lantern washes light over the room.

The damp air fits the visual of the area, but it lacks the musk of an unused space. Evidence of human movement and activity are visible here and there despite it being mostly bare. “Hidden basement? Was it always here? This has always been here, or–?”

“Yeah. Came up on it by surprise a long time ago now. The work of some doomsdayer, probably. Took us a long time to find it. Got real good use out of it lately, too.”

You scan the room for some indication of what he could mean. A long folding table lines one wall, filled with random supplies and curiosities. Odd pieces of furniture are scattered here and there. A closed door leading to who knows what. Rolled work blankets, tarps, and crates lie in organized piles.

“Is it some secret outpost or something?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel fiddles with your hand in his. Buying himself some time before–

“Why’d you bring me down here?”

He continues across the space with you and hesitates outside the closed door near the back of the basement. He waits until you meet his gaze before saying anything. “Listen to me good now. We’re gonna go in there, and I need you to promise me if you need to get outta there you’ll say somethin’. No judgment from anybody if you do, alright?” His stare could bore holes into your head with the intensity of it.

“O-Okay,” you agree. You don’t know what’s inside that would potentially be too much for you, but you know he wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t think you needed the preemptive permission of an out. He nods, searches your face with an inscrutable look, and leans down into a soft kiss. He slots his mouth against yours in a slow rhythm, siphoning the jittery anticipation from you with each pass and pull of his tongue against yours. Your weight slowly gives way to his clutch, and you give and give and give your anxieties over until you feel significantly calmer.

He pulls away, appears content with your pacified demeanor, and rests his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ve got you, honey. Just remember that.”

 He eases the door open, pushing it wide so you can see inside without having to enter. There’s already a few sources of light, but Joel flips something that powers a long row of bulbs. Matthew’s panicked eyes lock onto yours, a frenzied recognition taking over, and he strains against the rope bandings that hold him in place. He’s bound to a chair in much the same way as the first time Joel tied him up during your first time together. His muffled pleas and screams aren’t entirely intelligible past the wad of fabric shoved in his mouth. You let out a soft gasp at the sight of him, a little roughed up but mostly just looking terrified.

“This hopefully clears up why I wasn’t seemin’ too concerned with whether or not he was comin’ back to Jackson,” he supplies quietly.

“You-You mean…” You glance up at him, dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

He nods his head and watches you carefully, searching for some sort of upset or anger or disgust at seeing your ex-husband being held captive and worse for wear.

“But that day at the meeting! You were-You were so upset! You… was it all…..” You struggle to verbalize a logical train of thought. Joel had been pretending to be just as in the dark as you actually had been all this time. An apologetic frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“After that first day of the hearing, I knew we couldn’t count on those people to do the right thing. I told you I was gonna protect you. Keep you safe. I already failed you once. I wasn’t gonna fail you again.” He fixes you with a soft, remorseful look.

“Joel,” you choke. “You-You went and–after it— but, how?”

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself like he’s been waiting to finally tell you the truth, to impart this secret he’s been keeping from you for your own good. “He’s pissed off enough of the guys in Jackson that finding a few helping hands wasn’t too grand of a task,” comes his simple explanation. He glances over to Matthew with a look of pure disdain. “Had a few that owed me a major favor. Knocked his dumb ass out and took him out the back. Tommy already took the supplies, and I met him with the horse at the back passage. John lugged him on the horse here.”

You blink slowly, trying to absorb all this new information and connect it to what you already knew - or thought you already knew. You’re in such a state of shock that you don’t catch Matthew’s increasingly desperate, stifled calls for help. Joel rolls his eyes and shuts the door so the conversation can proceed in peace. 

“But the letter,” you sputter. “How?”

Joel looks at the ground and knocks the toe of his boot against it a few times before looking back at you. “Might be for the best if we don’t get into that.”

“No, Joel,” you say with a tremble. “I want to know. I deserve to know.”

He shakes his head in agreement and reaches out for your hand, which you readily place in his. He hesitates a few times before speaking. “I- I  don’t want you to be- I don’t want you to be afraid of me, honey.” His head lists back and forth, his eyes locked on where your hands are clasped together. “Done some bad things in my life. Not proud of all of it, but not really too sorry for it, either. I just… don’t want you thinkin’ I’m somebody you gotta be afraid of.”

With what seems to be a great amount of effort, he looks at you again. You hold his stare, a steady and unconditional hope and confidence meeting his look of insecurity. “I trust you,” you remind him firmly. You gather his hands together in yours and press them against your heart. “I trust you more than anything. I trust you with my life. I’m not afraid of you.”

He wavers for a moment before steeling himself. “I threatened to hurt Rachel and the baby. That’s how I got him to write that letter,” he admits. “Had to get him to talk, and quick, and I knew threatenin’ that would get him to write whatever I told him to.”

Your brow pinches together in an unasked question: how could you leverage something against him that he doesn’t actually care about?

“Yeah, it’s a little more’n what it sounds like. I–” he pauses for a beat before starting again, once more sounding uncertain of himself “–I don’t want you to see me different, when I tell you. Don’t think I could take you feelin’ scared of me or scared that I’d do anything to you – ever.”

You could understand his reluctance to bare these dark parts of himself. You’d spent most of your life in the long shadow of fear, the torrents of violence delivered by the mouths and hands of men you should’ve been able to trust. It was all too predictable that Joel would just become another perpetrator in the long line that existed before him, fitting into the established pattern. 

Except Joel wasn’t like anyone you’d ever known, was unlike any man you’d shared space with. He jumped the circuit that had been assigned to you - the circular loop of pain and fear - and became the break in the sequence. The disruptor of the inevitable. The arm that links to yours instead of bending it backward until compliance is yielded. Joel had decided that the cycle of your suffering stopped here, and god help anyone who got in his way.

“Scared? Of you? Joel, the only thing that scares me is whether or not I can ever be for you what you’ve been for me.” The words slip out gently, like they aren’t all sharp edges patched together with threads of hope. He moves to cut the conversation from its trajectory, but you press on before he can stop your moment of timid confession. “I don’t want pieces of you, Joel. I want it all. Just like you say you want all of me. So– I’m asking you to-to trust me with the truth, the way I trust you with the truth.” You level a firm, probing gaze and watch as his reservations abate.

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I-I know what him being here– I know what it means.” You straighten taller, pushing and pressing yourself to show the faith you have in yourself and in Joel - in the two of you. “I know that he’s– I know he’s not going to-to live. I know he’s not going to survive this. He’s not going to walk out of here.”

“That ain’t up to anyone but you,” he corrects. Before you can ask what he could possibly mean, he clarifies. “Told ‘em it wasn’t anybody’s decision ‘bout what happens to him but yours. Weren’t too happy with me about it. Wanted to kill him the first night – especially John – but ain’t nothin’ gonna happen that you don’t want to happen.”

The weight of his words settles slowly, a viscid cloud that ripples and sweeps through you. Matthew’s far off, muted cries for help are the only sound other than the pounding pulse in your ears. He took your life and bent it to his will, and now he was at your mercy. His fate lies in the palm of your hand because Joel stopped others from taking that decision from you. Because Matthew had hurt you more than anyone. Because Matthew had taken the most from you, wanted to take everything from you, it should be you to decide what happens.

Because Joel wanted to give you something you’d never had before: the power to dictate your life.

Your lip quivers with the comprehension of it, the magnitude of the gift he’d gently laid at your feet, as if it weren’t the most profound gesture anyone had ever bestowed you. Your lungs pull for the inhale that will balloon your chest against the constricting cage of your ribs. You have to get it together. You have to let him know he can tell you anything, can tell you everything, all without the fear that it will be too much and be the reason you walk away.

“Because you love me.” It’s not a question. It’s an answer. An explanation of why this man in front of you would do all of this.

“Because I love you,” he echoes. His lips press into a tight line. Consideration. Resolution. And then–

“I said I would—” He falters again, searching your face for the fear he so dreads will take hold and fester in you, the fear of what he is capable of, even if it’s done with the intent to shield you from harm. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “I told him I’d  drag her here, blow her brains out, and rip his kid from her stomach. Make him hold it until it didn’t move anymore. Kill off the future of him if he didn’t write what I told him to.”

You gulp back a gasp. “A-And would you have…? You would’ve done that?”

“Didn’t need to,” he replies instantly, skirting the question.

You press his hand firmer against your chest. “Would you have done that, Joel?”

“Yeah,” he finally admits. “If it meant gettin’ Matthew away from you, if it meant protectin’ you, then yeah, I would’ve.”

You gently nod, swallowing down the ebbing jolt of his confession, and bring his palms against your cheeks. You pivot to kiss them each in turn before looking up at him. “These hands are for– they’re for loving me. And protecting me.” You tilt towards him to emphasize your belief. His shoulders sag with relief, your sanction of his ill deeds loosening the tight nieve of guilt around him.

“And I know whatever happens in there–” an aside glance back at the door and back to Joel “–it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay, because you’re with me.”

He gives you a pointed nod and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I got you. I’ve always got you from here on out. I need you to understand, honey.”

“I do. I understand.”

 “Then let’s get to it, sweet girl.” 

With that, he opens the door again and drags in a heavy blanket from the other side of the basement. The distinct clink and clatter of metal can be heard even through the thick fabric. He motions for you to follow him into the room and close the door. You push it shut and watch as he hauls a cushioned chair from the corner of Matthew’s room and sets it up a few feet away from him, dead center.

 Matthew’s eyes dart wildly between the two of you. You jump at the unexpected slap Joel lands against Matthew’s head. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” Matthew quiets down instantly and stills. “I’m gonna tell you this one time: do not speak unless spoken to. You will listen to her. You will answer whatever question she has. You will not lie to her. If you lie to her or start gettin’ outta line, I will gladly set you straight.”

He rips the fabric gag from Matthew’s mouth and throws it on the floor. His breathing is audible and strained without the obstruction. Joel wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you down onto his lap, sitting in the armchair he’d arranged directly across from Matthew.

He leans forward, hugging you against him. I’m here. You’re not alone. Take the power you should’ve always had. Get answers to the questions you deserve to have answered. His hands splay wide across your chest and belly, an anchor to him. He runs his nose along your neck and hairline,  presses his lips gently against your ear. “Go on. I’ve got you.”

Matthew has been sitting silently as instructed, waiting on your permission to engage. Something turbulent and mirthful stirs in your gut. You can feel it spreading through you like a beast intent on carnage. It takes a few moments to recognize the feeling for what it is: power. The expression “drunk on power” finally made sense. The feeling of confidence, strength, and command makes your head buzz. It occurs to you that while this is your first time wielding such authority, it is likely Matthew’s first time experiencing the other side of things, not having any control over what’s going to happen next.

“How do you feel?”

Your question catches them both off guard, although Joel doesn’t show his surprise other than tensing for a split second underneath you. Matthew’s eyes squeeze shut, his frown deepening as he shakes his head side to side. He takes your line of questioning as a sign of possible mercy – all that understanding and patience you’ve been leached of your entire life.

“I’m fucking scared!” he croaks. His voice sounds weak and tired. “Every time they come down here I don’t know if it’s gonna be the time they kill me! Please just tell them to let me go! I’ll fucking go, I will! You’ll never see me again, I swear it.” He leans as far forward in his chair as he can manage, his desperation for your leniency coming off him in spates.

“What about Rachel? And the baby?”

Again, they both show their surprise at your choice of question. Matthew’s face flashes an answer before he can speak: what about them? Of course. Why should he care about the woman he’d impregnated out of spite? She was nothing more than collateral in this entire thing. His rooted seed in her belly nothing more than a guarantee of his lineage, a point of ego.

He works his expression into more of the calculated veneer he’s perfected over the years. “I-If you would– Listen, of course I care about them both, of course I want to take care of them both—”

You don’t bother listening to the rest. His words slacken to a halt as you turn your head towards Joel. “He’s lying to me, and you told him not to,” you say softly. Something eager and electric sparks in his eyes. “Yeah, I think he is, baby. I don’t like that one bit. What do you think?”

Matthew stutters but keeps himself from speaking, rightfully afraid of Joel’s correction.

You rest your hands atop his where he cradles you against him. “Do you remember in the cabin when you told me not to feel bad when bad people get what they deserve?”

He holds back a smirk. “I do.”

“Do you remember what I told you I liked seeing and wanted to see again?”

He doesn’t downplay the depraved grin spreading across his face. “I think I do, but I sure would love if you reminded me anyway.”

You turn to face Matthew and swallow down the delight at his anxious urgency to understand what is happening. Your expression is cold, unfeeling. “I liked it when you cried, Matthew, and I like it when Joel makes you cry—” you turn to Joel again, whose face has darkened and acidified, the drip of a lethal edge pooling at the verge  “—so, I want you to do it again. I want you to make him cry, Joel. Make him cry for me.”

His smile is infectious. “Thought you’d never ask.” When he tilts you closer to his face and kisses you gently, it’s your turn to be surprised. “I love you.” A tender reminder, something free in the way he says it now that it’s already been said before. Like he wants to say it as many times as he can. Like you’ll understand how much he means it the more you hear him say it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

You both ignore Matthew’s break in protocol as he rushes to explain his sincerity. Joel is in no hurry, knowing that his leisure only works Matthew into more of a frenzy. He walks calmly to the blanket he’d brought in earlier, unwraps it,  and studies the contents for a moment. Opting to forgo anything in the selection, he saunters over to an ever distraught Matthew. The glint of a small blade from Joel’s back pocket catches the light.

“NO NO NO,” Matthew starts chanting, an octave higher reached with every utterance.

You flinch when Joel swings his arm up, barely stopping the momentum of it in enough time for the sharp edge of the blade to tamp directly against Matthew’s cheek. The room is quiet again. A slip of crimson trickles between the bulge of his flesh and the blade. His jaw trembles with the effort of keeping still so as to not deepen the cut.

“The only reason you ain’t laid out and bein’ beat to death right now is because of her, so I suggest you count your fuckin’ lucky stars that she’s the one callin’ the shots,” Joel growls. His fingertips are white from where he grips the hilt of the blade so tight you can practically see the itch to drive it further in.

Matthew’s eyes lock onto your face. Like the rabbit whose leg has been snapped in steel teeth, he feels the walls closing in around him. Something about your presence makes this all the more real somehow, you think. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling uncertain if you only liked the idea of Matthew suffering and might not be fit to actually witness it. As if sensing your thoughts, Joel flicks the blade closed and returns it to his pocket.

“Now listen real close,” he drawls. Matthew’s face pouches out in little pockets of flesh between Joel’s stretched fingers where they grip his skull. The dig of Joel’s thumb into the new sliced divide of flesh triggers a string of pained gasps. “My girl wants to see you cry, so you’re gonna give her some tears. If ya can’t squeeze ‘em out during some heartfelt somethin’ or other, I’ll just hafta think of somethin’ to motivate ya.” 

Joel watches you from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to take the lead when you’re ready. He senses your uncertainty at commanding the situation just yet and continues.  A fractured cry pierces the air as Joel wedges his finger deeper into the cut. “Lucky for me, I’m feelin’ real creative today.” 

Matthew shakes his head, although you’re not entirely sure which part of it he disagrees with. Joel doesn’t seem to notice or care and continues on. “So how about you start bein’ honest and start from day one. I wanna hear all the fuckin’ mistakes you made and all the shit you took for granted. And god help you if ya start lyin’ or fakin’ some crocodile tears.”

You find Matthew’s eyes again, settled with a defeated acceptance, and he looks scared enough that you think he might actually just tell the truth for once.

“W-When we met– the first time we met–” he sputters. He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s closing himself off from his current predicament, as if he can separate himself from the lies he’s told and his obligation to now recount the story in truth rather than through his lens of manipulation. “When I saw you, I just– I did think they were raiders. Your dad and brother. I did. But. I just thought– I knew I could catch them off guard and take them both out. I just–”

His eyes slip towards Joel, a mistake warranting censure. Joel grips his head in one hand and forces his focus towards you again. “You’re tellin’ her, not me. So keep your eyes on her when you’re talkin’.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to kill you, too, or see if maybe you could be useful to me in some way,” Matthew confesses in a bungled rush of words.

“What do you mean?” You swallow down a sick feeling and aren’t sure you want to know the answer. He’d been a liar since the very beginning, and it took you so long to see it. You’d been such a fool for so fucking long. Knowing the extent and depth of the deception only magnified the hurt stemming from this level of betrayal.

“He means he kept you around for a warm, wet hole to stick his dick in,” Joel snarls.

“It wasn’t just that!” Matthew pleads. His eyes nearly slip back to Joel, but he recovers at the last moment. “I swear! If-If it was just that I could’ve just raped you! You were already so beat down it wouldn’t have been hard!”

Your stomach sinks hearing him share this alternate version of events, something so perverse from what you’d always remembered it as. “Am I supposed to be flattered by that, Matthew?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly. You hate showing weakness, especially under the circumstances.

At least Matthew looks appropriately chastened. “I’m telling you the truth! You said you wanted the truth, and I’m doing that! PLEASE!” His lip trembles with unfettered panic. “Maybe I wasn’t some-some knight in shining armor like I had you believe, b-but if I didn’t actually want you I would’ve just dumped you sooner! You have to see that I’m telling the truth about that! I did like having you around!”

“Having me around for what?” you bite back. The look on Matthew’s face says Joel’s assertion about being a “warm, wet hole” wasn’t very far off. “So that’s really it then? Just somebody to use? Somebody to make you feel good? To be, I mean– to be, what? Forever in your debt? Someone who-who was so fucking–” you cut yourself off before the heat pinching in your eyes forms tears. You shake your head side to side to collect your resolve. “Someone who was so fucking grateful to be out of their situation that they wouldn’t even notice all the fucked up parts of their new one?”

Your voice has grown shaky and hoarse at the effort of holding back tears. Matthew’s face twists into something akin to an indignant sneer. “You can’t blame me for every little thing, you know. You didn’t have to follow me around like a lost puppy. You were plenty grown enough if you wanted to—”

The sneer morphs into a grotesque contortion of pain as Joel drives his knife straight into Matthew’s lower thigh and twists. The shocked scream erupting from him is almost as jarring as the brutal drive of the knife springing up blood through his pants.

“Let’s try that again,” Joel drawls. He yanks the blade from Matthew’s leg. The claret drips fall like a quiet rain against a window, and it makes you feel unfamiliar with yourself when you register the sort of calm it brings. The gentle pitter patter of rain against the pane. The soft spill of Matthew’s blood onto his clothes and the floor. Something contentious and changing, something ready to cleanse away the before. 

You sit up straight on the edge of the chair and grip the arms, looking on in revulsion and enthusiasm. The ire churning in your gut unfurls into licking flames of white heat. “A lost puppy you were more than happy to keep on a leash,” you warble back. The edges of your vision blur in equal, indignant fever. You shove yourself up from the chair, legs shaking with the surge of emotion you no longer attempt to subdue. Hot bands of wet splinter over your cheeks, a fit pair with the jagged breaths you pull in. “How many?” you snap. “How many women were you with after you told me you loved me and cared about me?”

Matthew’s mouth hangs open as if it awaits the strangled sob in his throat to dislodge itself soon. “PLEASE,” a gasp of a prayer for your mercy.

“Ain’t a quick learner, are ya?” Joel laughs to himself, calm as ever while he jabs the flat side of his hand directly against Matthew’s windpipe. 

He sputters and coughs before quickly choking out an answer. “I don’t–cough–I don’t know. I have to think!” He tilts his head back, his eyes chasing an answer along the ceiling somewhere. “I-I’m think–jesus christ I don’t know. It has to be….” He trails off with a small rocking motion as he tallies his indiscretions. “I think thirteen,” he finally decides.

“Can you even name them?” you challenge. He makes it through the first handful quickly, but his memory is hazy from when he’d finally given in to the practice of unabashed, serial infidelity. With a promise of “help” from Joel to remember the rest, Matthew manages to focus and list off names that amount to a grand total of seventeen. Seventeen others he’d sought out and prioritized over you, over his commitments and promises to you.

“Why?”

Matthew squeezes his eyes shut tight again in anticipation of the response to his truthful but less than palatable answer. 

“Because I could.”

He waits for the strike or the blade to come and peels his eyes open when it doesn’t. You can see Joel’s entire frame taut beside him, fuming at the gall and arrogance. You signal for Matthew to continue answering.

“I-I knew you’d never do anything about it. I knew you were too scared no one would want you. I knew you wouldn’t ever think of crossing me.”

A physical pain roosts in your chest. He was right. You never did anything about it - not until Natalie. Even after Natalie, you remained boxed in by your own fears of having to present yourself as enough for somebody else, as if anyone would want you. You’d never crossed Matthew because he was something rather than the terrifying prospect of nothing. But none of that mattered when he made you feel so alone anyway. It didn’t matter when he isolated you from even knowing yourself.

“Joel, can I have your knife please?”

His eyebrows shoot up, hands deftly placing the weapon in your open palm. “Gonna show me some techniques, baby?” His smile falls a little when he sees the fearfulness pulling at you again. “Or are you gonna let me join ya?”

“Together,” you agree.

Matthew thrashes in his bindings. Pitiful calls for you to just wait and hold on a minute fall on deaf ears. Joel kicks his chair to the ground and gives a hard push with his boot to position him onto his back. You motion towards the gag, which Joel shoves back into place. You brace yourself over Matthew’s feet and remove his shoes and socks. The sinew of his muscle flexes as he tries in vain to get away from you. Joel kneels behind you and steadies you in his arms. Matthew’s neck is craning, eyes bulged with horror, as he watches helplessly.

“Can you…..?” you trail off, not sure how to ask what you want to ask.

Joel follows your line of sight to the arch of Matthew’s foot. He holds you in the cradle of his arms, back to chest, as he places his hands over yours and the knife clutched there. “I’m right here. You go on ahead, sweet girl.”

He guides your hands forward, releasing his grasp on one side to hold Matthew’s foot in place, and you hold your breath as you both plunge the blade into the soft bend of Matthew’s foot. His screams become clearer through the bunched fabric in his mouth. Your stomach turns at the high pitched agony. Joel frames your body closer to his and talks close to your ear. “You’ve got it, honey. You’re doin’ it. I’m right here. You just keep goin’. I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

The glittery silver disappears into reddening, wet flesh. Before you can pull it back out, Joel turns your wrist to the side and slows the extraction to a brutal crawl of blade against bone. Your hands shake as you enact the most ruthless savagery you’ve ever rendered. Joel’s hushed whispers of encouragement feel nauseating and thrilling. When the blade finally works its way out completely, you release a hard, shaky exhale.

Matthew is sobbing and writhing, his torment discernible even through his restraints and gag. Joel is unphased, passing praising kisses against your neck and cheeks. “Did so good. So proud of you.”

“I did okay?” you shake out.

He leans forward so you can see each other’s faces fully. “Did perfect, sweet girl. Perfect.”

You take a deep breath and center yourself. “Can you help me do it again?”

Joel grins, a sort of fervid vestige of a bedlamite, and says of course he’ll help you do it again and adds that he’ll help as many times as you want, baby. After you repeat the same measured, excruciating puncture on Matthew’s opposite foot, Joel asks a question you’ve only just decided the answer to. 

“How many times you wanna cut him, honey?” He nuzzles against your earlobe, ever patient and calming. You know if you said you wanted to stop all of this and just walk away, he’d do just that. It makes you want to do it even more.

“I-I think that, um,” you mumble hesitantly. You try to block out Matthew’s heaving shrieks. “I think that some smaller ones for the rest. I think, maybe, fifteen smaller ones should make it–”

“–seventeen,” Joel finishes with a sinister chuckle. “Knew I had me a clever one. You’re really somethin’ else, sweet girl.”

You almost chicken out as you start to feel ill inflicting your twisted punishment, a slice into his flesh for each time he strayed from you. Joel as always helps you through it and steadies the blade to create fifteen superficial but sizable slits across the expanse of Matthew’s body from bottom to top. By the final cut, his eyes are far off and fixed on a spot above your heads. Joel jerks the chair upright and wrenches him out of his dissociative escape.

“Wake up, prick,” he snaps. A smack of his palm against the side of Matthew’s head gets his eyes focused on you again. Somehow there’s still the resonance of hatred in his gaze, a burning, putrid animosity held for you. The vitriol that comes into the centrifuge of his sight on you makes goosebumps ripple over your skin.

What feels like hours has in reality only been minutes. The encumbrance of violence has tired you quickly, and you briefly wonder how on earth people can maintain rabid, cruel tendencies for years, even decades. How they aren’t shriveled into a heap after 5 minutes of it. Then you remember, some people thrive on it. For some, it’s the only thing that swells their blood. People like Matthew who can’t seem to stray far from it without it coming back tenfold in its consuming appetite for destruction.

Your stomach burns and clenches. This is not the path you are meant to travel. There’s something decidedly wrong about it all, and you wish you could focus more on Matthew finally getting what’s been a long time coming. Instead, you avert your eyes from his, away from the splinters of torn tissue you’d carved into him.

“Hey.” Joel’s soft voice calls you from your freefall. You look over to find him already watching you, carefully pinpointing each minutia of emotion you can’t keep from breaking through. “C’mere.”

You readily shrink into his middle, his arms coming up to cage you into him. A few deep breaths of him block out the heavy, stale air of the room that’s whirling with the metallic daub of fresh blood. You let him guide you to sit in the lounge chair in his lap. You slump against his warm, broad body. Your head lolls to the side. You feel like you could just shut down right now and sleep for four months straight.

“Lemme help you relax.” The words barely register until the paired action of his hand skimming underneath your waistband catches you up immediately. Your body tenses as you turn your head to look at him. A soft, playful smile graces his lips. His fingertips dip down lower. Your lids flutter closed. Why did this feel so good in such a gruesome environment? How did this feel so germane after all the atrocities you’d just committed against another human? Nevertheless, Joel’s touch is a calming weight, settling over you in an instant.

“Gonna take these off, honey.” The scratch of denim and cotton against your legs is the beginning of your body fully switching over into corporeal awareness instead of the tumultuous sea of your mind. A whiny choke gets caught in your throat when you feel Joel’s hands against your bare skin.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. He spreads your legs across his lap, knees hooked over his thighs. Your curiosity gets the better of you when you wonder what Matthew’s face looks like. 

Cold. Callous. His eyes keep flashing to the cradle of your thighs, spread and displayed.

“Messy baby,” Joel hums with a spark of humor. You aren’t sure what he means until you see the bright blood on his fingertips. “I like you messy,” he grunts, cupping your pussy against his palm. 

“Joel,” you start to protest. As you stare at the menstrual blood glistening on your inner thighs, you realize the gut cramping and sick feeling you’ve been experiencing over the past hour could only partially be blamed on all the torment you’d been inflicting on Matthew. 

“Knock it off,” he warns, sounding stern and resolute, when you squirm against him. You whimper and give in immediately. There’s not much fight left in you when it comes to Joel, not with all the pinpricking blooms of revenge taking to you so steadfastly. He groans against you as he sinks his fingers inside your entrance. His other hand has skirts underneath your top, toying lazily with your hardening buds.

“Gonna let him watch just like that first time,” he husks. His excitement is palpable against you, seeping into you like an osmotic, erogenous stimulant. You can feel him thick and ready beneath you. You lift yourself higher for his fingers to go deeper. He wordlessly complies and drinks in your feeble moan.

“God do you remember how fuckin’ smug he was that day? Now look at him.”

You heed his invitation and focus your hazy attention on Matthew. His eyes are glossy and bloodshot. His nose is dripping. There are patches of bright new blood and auburn, oxidizing blood all over his body. There’s a mixture of dried and fresh tears streaking his face.

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Joel laughs under his breath. He hooks his fingers into you and moves his hand back and forth in quick motions, his palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your legs clamp together reflexively, but Joel pries them back open. You pin the weight of your shoulders against his chest, arching up from where you sit in his lap.

“Give it to me. Come on, baby. I can feel it. You’re right there–yeah, come on–there you go.”

A white heat scorches through your lower belly just as you reach your peak. You’re a writhing mess against Joel, who holds you loosely against his chest. A warm pool of wet gathers on his hand and fingers, bright red mixed in with your slick. Your chest feels hot and prickly as you catch your breath. Already so awash in your afterglow, you list to the side where Joel props you gently against the back of the chair. 

The entire front of his pants are flecked in smudges of scarlet. He twists and turns his hand in the light, admiring the catch of it against the mixture of fluids. He smiles to himself, stands, and saunters to Matthew, whose eyes grow larger the closer Joel gets. Thick bright red blood coating his hand is all the more evident when he flexes it into a fist.

“Bet you thought so many times about seein’ blood pour outta her,” he muses in a dangerously calm voice. “Bet you wanted to be the one to make that happen. Crack her in the skull. Cut her open. Shoot her. Huh?”

Matthew is still as a statue. You find yourself hanging onto Joel’s every word as well, mesmerized and head crooked to the side to witness whatever was going to happen next. Dissatisfied with his question going unanswered, Joel takes his clean hand to grip around Matthew’s sweaty, grimy hair and yanks him to the side. “HM?”

“Yes!” Matthew coughs and begins to cry again. “Yes, I thought about it!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Joel's entire broad frame is rigid with fury. “You wanted her blood so bad, you can have it.” The high pitched impact of Joel’s drenched hand across Matthew’s cheek practically echoes in the enclosed space. Fresh tears carve a clean line through the smear of your blood on his face. Joel slaps him again. Again and again and so many times you lose count. His face is covered in you.

Matthew had wanted you dead. He’d wanted your blood on his hands. He felt that’s what you owed him. Joel saw to it that the “debt” was repaid, just not how Matthew had envisioned it. It was a due reward for what he’d craved, and it sent a surge of righteous anger through every nerve ending in your body. Joel pauses for a moment to check in on you.

You bend your head slowly in approval. “More,” you whisper.

The million kilowatt, manic grin that brightens Joel’s entire face makes you smile shyly in return. There was something akin to pride there, something that made him swell with it just from you taking control of the situation and taking ownership in this act of vengeance. He loosens some of the restraints binding Matthew to the chair and frees his arms and legs.

With every ounce of energy he has available, Matthew lunges at you, an ineffective movement with his injuries slowing him down. It’s a stumble and a longshot. You’re not even sure why he attempted it. Joel doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. In fact, he looks like he was hoping Matthew might do something so incredibly stupid just to have a reason to further maim him. He snatches him up and sends him flying into the closest wall, crumpling into a heap. Just when Matthew manages to brace himself against the wall and sit upright, Joel’s boot slams square into his back, knocking the air from his lungs.

He twitches and gasps for breath that doesn’t come. He still hasn’t caught his breath when Joel finishes stripping him bare, a constellation of slices and gashes and bruises across his body. Joel kicks him again into the middle of the room, pins him to the floor with a knee between the shoulders. The deft movement of his fingers is mesmerizing as they work over the freshly tied knots around Matthew’s elbows and wrists. Alleviation doesn’t come when Joel stands, fully clothed with a hard foot planted into Matthew’s naked back. Something about this exhibition sends a wave of heat between your thighs.

“If you try that shit again, I won’t be as patient. You understand?”

“Yes,” Matthew sputters against the ground.

“Now, keep your arms out in front of you just like that, and if I so much as see ‘em twitch I will get to flayin’ you with a blunt knife, startin’ from your fingertips.”

Matthew makes a noise that you think can only convey a distraught understanding. You inspect the loops and knots across his body, never truly trusting that it’s enough to keep him contained. Before you work yourself up with worry, Joel walks past you to the pile of tools, plucks one of them up, and returns to your side with it. A flash of light catches against the head of a hammer.

“Let’s show this bastard what puttin’ his hands ‘round your neck gets him.”

Just like he had with the knife, Joel braces himself against you and positions you over Matthew’s outstretched hands, cupping the handle of the tool in your grasp. A visible tremor shakes Matthew’s entire body, but he doesn’t dare move his arms despite knowing what’s coming. To his credit, he doesn’t scream too loud with the first several blows of the metal tool against the delicate bones in his fingers. They bend in unnatural contours after each strike, bits of stark white peeking through gnarled, ripped sinew and flesh.

The shrill din in your ears drowns out his suffocated gasps. Even when Joel helps you stand again, your knees stuck in a tremulous lock, you barely make out his instruction to drive your foot down as hard as you can. His arm curls insistently against your ribcage, holding you upright, coaxing you into delivering the violent stampede of your sole into Matthew’s already ruined appendages. The faint, sickening crunch with each strike, the soft gurgle of blood and liquid as his bone tears through where it hasn’t been crushed already. You start to feel lightheaded and sick when Joel finally pulls you away and sets you in the chair again.

Sound comes slowly back into focus, but you don’t hear what sorts of things Joel is saying to Matthew as he crouches over his pitiful, slumped body. You can only imagine it’s the adrenaline keeping him going right now. Your expression pinches when you see Joel free Matthew of all the ties he’d carefully formed not too long ago. Or maybe it had been longer than you thought. This entire room existed in a vacuum as far as your mind was concerned. It felt as though nothing existed outside these four walls. All that existed was here and now in this moment of wrath and retribution.

Joel’s hands are warm against your face. “Hey there,” he says softly, quietly, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s bent in front of you, eyes traveling across your expression and taking in every indication of your wellbeing. “Remember if it’s too much, we can–”

“No,” you grit out. The resolve to see this through gives another wind of life. “Keep going.”

Joel’s eyebrow ticks up. “You sure about that? You were lookin’ a little pale back there.”

You shrug. “Not used to this. That’s all.”

He gives you a sympathetic grin and rubs his hands along your bare thighs. You’d forgotten you were only half-dressed. “You promised you’d tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not if I’m with you.”

His whole face softens, tender and visceral in the way it reaches out to you and pulls you closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You rest your hands over his where his thumbs rub small circles. “So tell me what we do next. Help me finish this.”

And with no pretense, he ushers you up from the seat and slowly over to where Matthew lays quietly on the floor. “You wanna know what I told him?” he breathes into your ear. The wet of Matthew’s eyes glisten from where he looks up at you. The fabric gag is in his mouth again, although he is entirely unbound. You wonder what it is that Joel said to have him not daring to move again. “Told him he had to come first or I’d start breakin’ the rest of him, piece by piece, bone by bone.”

“Come first? What do you–”

“Hold onto me,” is the only warning you get before Joel is crouched behind you, reaching a hand between your legs and pulling you backward against him. Your body naturally falls open, limbs askew, as you lean into him. His fingers are thick where they breach into your bloodied entrance, still wet with your earlier release.

You quickly figure out he’s working you at such an odd angle with a distinct purpose. The pleasant but unmistakable friction against your g-spot has your legs shaking in anticipation.

“Better get to work. She’s already gettin’ close,” Joel taunts.

To your horror, Matthew drags his mangled hands across the soft length between his thighs in some warped deference to Joel’s warning that he has to reach climax before you do. The gag in his mouth isn’t substantial enough to drown out his anguished sobs. A harsh pinch to your nipple snaps your attention back to Joel. “You focus right here, sweet girl,” he husks. “You show me how good I make you feel, huh?”

You squeak out a moan when he rolls your other nipple between his nimble touch. “Ohmygod,” you breathe.

“Mmmhhmmmm,”  he chuckles low against your temple. “ Mmmhhmmm, yeah, there she is.”

 His fingers work you faster and harder until you’re right on the cusp, closed off the rest of the world with just Joel’s voice goading you to finish. You come with a hard jerk and grab onto his solid forearm as he positions you over Matthew. It comes out of you in steady spurts, the debauched splash of your fluids landing onto Matthew’s bare body and into the valleys and gashes you’d carved into it.

He seizes up, eyes slipping into the back of his skull. You don’t have a moment to consider the acidity of it in his open wounds, how it must make it burn and aggravate the already sensitive gashes, before Joel’s hands are everywhere on you. His voice is urgent when he says he has to have you right now. You say yes because even though your body can’t take any more of it, you want whatever he’s willing to give. You want all of him, to be swallowed whole by his want, to cave into the summon of his body and his mind.

The metallic clink of his belt and rough shove of fabric. You’re practically floating. He lines himself up and pushes in, already panting and sounding close. You cling to him where you can as he begins thrusting. The split of him stings in all the best ways, and you welcome the anchoring sensation of it. “Feel so–hhngg god- feel so fuckin’ good,” he chokes.

Your feeble moan only encourages his steady pace, filling you and spreading you and molding you to him. “I want it inside,” you whimper.

Joel gives a pained groan at your request, his hips stuttering for a moment at the visual. “Yeah? Want me to come inside you again? You like that? Like being full of me?”

You make some unintelligible noise that you hope conveys your affirmation. His gravelly moan works you towards another climax, but the roll of his hips begins to falter. You know he’s close. His body drapes over yours and pushes you both closer to the ground, nearer to the strung out stare that Matthew has in between squeezing his eyes shut tight as they’ll go.

“Oh fuck, please, Joel.” You want to be marked by him, want to be hued by the color of him spilling over into you, the tones and shades of him bleeding into you and staining into one flush of congruency. “Please, I need you,” you cry out.

He empties into you with a ragged moan as you clutch to him and find purchase with your other hand against the erratic rise and fall of Matthew’s chest. The warmth of Joel surrounds you and spills out of you with each sloppy thrust until he’s laying a path of lax, wet kisses along the column of your throat. “Love you. I love you.” He says it over and over like a mantra, breathless and in reverence that you’re his.

And you love him back more fiercely than you might ever be able to put into words. You look down at the man who’d wronged you all the while feeling the protective presence of Joel behind you. This is how it was meant to turn out, you think. A bookend to the first time you and Joel came together. A thought about that first time strikes you.

“I wanna do it like that first time,” you whisper with a turn of your head.

Joel hums in approval and gathers you closer to him. His hand slips lower in silent understanding, cupping your sex as he drags himself out of you. The mixture of his cum, your slick, and your period blood rush out of your entrance and into his curved palm. Joel flicks it, and you watch as it lands with a wet slop against Matthew’s face. Far from the fearful retreat you’d dwelled in so long, a righteous indignation swells in your chest. You lean into it with Joel’s help, letting him guide you into this new side of yourself, one that’s safe to explore and execute with him by your side.

You don’t feel the need to slap Matthew more than once with the handful of fluids. Joel is only satisfied once he’s struck him several times more and spit in his face for good measure. You aren’t sure if Matthew has finally given up or if the blood loss is starting to catch up with him. His responses are coming shorter and weaker.

Joel gets himself situated again before helping you get dressed. You’re sure it’s a sight to see, all the blood and grime and fluids covering you and your clothes. When you tell him you want Matthew brought outside, Joel gives you a dubious look but doesn’t question it. You look on as Matthew hobbles naked up the stairway, down the hallway, and past a curious John and Tommy who follow along outside. You glance around for what you need, finding it on the most level table in the front living area, and head into the cool night air.

No one asks about you and Joel’s disheveled, bloodied state. All eyes are on you for direction. What happens to Matthew is your call, just like Joel said. He holds Matthew at gunpoint, almost comical in the level of overkill. He’s bleeding, naked, and struggling to stay upright. Even if everyone understands he’s not going to survive, you and Matthew both know that the last thing he can keep is his pride and die alone without anyone around to witness such a pathetic ending.

“I know that you are probably going to die out there.” You look up the side of the steep ravine and off to the side where darkness and wilderness lie in wait. Everyone shifts at the insinuation that you will give Matthew the gift of privacy in his defeated, lonely death. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t asked for my forgiveness. So, I’m offering you the chance to make that right.”

Matthew whimpers, not yet free to die alone and away from prying eyes.

“Beg,” Joel snaps –  a singular, harsh warning.

Matthew meets your eye. He looks genuinely remorseful. “I never–I never deserved you.” You give him the time he needs to power through. He’s already lost enough blood to make just speaking and holding himself upright at the same time physically taxing. You can’t imagine the mental toll. “I know if you told them to kill me, they would.” He pauses to glance Joel’s direction. “I could’ve become a different person. A better person.” He sputters and coughs again. “ You could’ve done that for me - helped me get there.”

Tears flow. Real tears. Sincere tears from a monstrous man. A man who seems to have finally come to realize things could’ve been different if he wanted them to be. He sniffs and coughs and whimpers.

“I can’t ever change how I was—” he pauses to take a wheezing gulp of air “—I can’t go back and undo it. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, fat lines of tears splashing off his face.

“I know your heart is– it’s the biggest– you have so much love—”

He pauses again and steadies his labored breaths.

“If anyone had enough heart to forgive someone like me, I know it’s you.”

He holds your gaze, steady and unwavering. He means it.

“Please, please. Forgive me.”

You look at the brutalized, broken man before you, weeping and begging for your exoneration. You glance at Joel who is already watching you with a pensive expression. You look back down at Matthew. He hasn’t looked away from you as he awaits his fate.

“You haven’t earned my forgiveness, and you never will.” 

Your scathing verdict hits colder than the nighttime air. Matthew’s eyes bug out, wide and terrified. You think you hear Tommy laugh. “Put him in the pit,” you command. You jerk your head towards the unlit firepit at the edge of the dense treeline.

John and Joel happily cart Matthew, flailing and fighting with the vigor that is somehow miraculously still fueling his will to live, as Tommy trains the gun on him. They heave him into the hollowed out recess and await your next decree. Matthew is screaming and clawing at the walls. You think if he weren’t so badly injured he would be able to easily get himself out. His current state, however, renders him confined to the small circular space. Your hands shake as you reach into your pocket for the item you grabbed on your way out. A silent mass butts up against your back and steadies your hand. Joel.

“I got you,” he reassures you quietly, softly.

He holds the package in place in your left hand and guides the match in your right hand across the raised pattern of the strike pad. A flash of white settles into a warm orange burn on the end of the match.

“I’ve got you, baby. Go ahead.”

You lean over the pit, over Matthew’s desperate calls for you to not do this, and drop the flame. John grabs something from the side and hands it to Joel. Accelerant. He concentrates the first few spurts onto Matthew’s body before dashing a smaller amount over your flame. He pulls you both back as the fire swirls and shoots and swells from the pit. You close your eyes and lean back into Joel as you all stand and listen to the agonized screams coming from the bottom of the cavity.

Joel pulls you closer to him, pulls you down with him to rest on the stump nearby. The sounds of Matthew’s demise come slower and slower as the blaze consumes him. You turn your body, cradling into Joel’s embrace, and nestle your head against the crook of his neck. It blocks out some of the noise. He dips his head and fills your mouth with the slip of his hot tongue. You drink him in, open wider for him, let him into whatever space of yours he wants. It’s all his. You’re both each other’s. The kiss slows until it’s just lips grazing back and forth. A quiet comfort. A soft soothing. A safe embrace.

“Did I do okay?” you ask in a hush. Joel hears what you’re really asking: Did I do the right thing?

“You did the best you could with what you had, darlin’.”

You nod, mulling over his sage take on your decision to end Matthew’s life. “And was my best good enough?” The last bit comes out in a sort of choke, your emotions getting the better of you.

“You are good enough,” Joel is quick to emphasize. “And it’s high time you started livin’ the life you deserve.”

“I only want that if it’s with you.”

“And I’m up for the challenge of makin’ up for lost time,” he replies with a soft smile.

The tortured cries have died away, lost into the high pitched sound of the wet spots being scorched from the insides of the logs.

“But what about Rachel and the baby?” You fiddle with the button on your shirt. Even though they were better off without Matthew, you still felt the guilt of leaving her with the burden of birthing and raising a child on her own. When he doesn’t respond right away, you turn to Joel. His body is tense with the knowledge of something, another hidden truth.

“Tell me,” you urge him in a hush. “We’ve made it this far. You won’t scare me. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

He pulls you closer, some form of self-soothing perhaps, and relents more of the endless dedication he holds for you. “He has no business havin’ a bloodline.” He’s quiet for a moment, weighing something in his mind. Finding the right words. You wait for him, just like he always waits for you. “Won’t be too long now before she turns up to the clinic to find out she’s lost it.”

Lost it.

Lost it?

“You… what does—”

“She won’t know any different. Prolly chalk it up to the stress of everythin’. And she wasn’t hurt in the process, neither, so don’t go thinkin’ I’d–”

“Who did it?”

Joel finally looks at you. “Somebody in the greenhouses owed me. Got a knack for medicinal herb stuff.”

“So–So, what? They made her take something–”

“Nobody made her do anythin’,” he’s quick to correct. “It was mixed in with her food rations. Had the main dose of it prepared in a cafeteria meal she had, too, just in case.” He shrugs. “ Wanted to be sure.”

You swallow hard, not letting the mix of emotions bleed through to your expression. You don’t want Joel to think you don’t trust him, that you’re scared of him, scared of someone who was capable of such a thing - not after everything you’d been through.

“So, you– whoever it was, they gave her something to make the pregnancy fail?” You already know the answer, but you want him to say it.

“Yes.”

You nod, awash in your thoughts and mixed feelings over this splintered arm of a fucked up situation. Joel is unmoving beside you, waiting in anticipation of your blessing or reprimand. 

“No part of him exists anymore,” you say. It’s a plain observation, but you both sit in the spoken impact of it. “No part of him exists anymore, and the world is better for it.”

Your body feels weak and raw, but it’s unlike the weight of stress and danger that’s been plaguing you for so long. No, it’s the fragile heap of newness, the tentative foray of new life. Joel holds you close, coddles you, as you both stare wordlessly into the blazing fire. He watches you from the corner of his eye, only shifting when you meet his gaze. Thoughtful. Quiet.

“You ready to go home?”

Home. You smile at the thought of it, the house you now share, but know that home is truly wherever you and Joel are together. He grins back in understanding.

“Yeah,” you softly sigh, content and sleepy. “Let’s go home, Joel.”

Thank you thank you thank you for all the love and patience with this series! I've poured so much into this to get it right and tell the sort of story I feel deserves to be told. I am so proud of it (and that I finally finished it!), and I hope that it can heal parts of you as it did for me when I was writing it.

Many thanks to @jupiter-soups and @ghoulettesinspace for beta'ing and helping see this story come to a close.

Thank you for reading. I love you all. 💜

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

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cont'd in comments

[familyvideostevie]

we were flyin'

short and sweet! doing laundry with rooster in your new home is silly and lovely | fluff, 0.9k

"Are you going to help, or what?"

You blink and realize that Bradley is staring down at you, holding out a sweatshirt for you to take. This is new for both of you -- it's the first time you're doing laundry in your new place, your first real home together.

"I am helping," you say, snatching the piece of clothing from him and folding it. You add it to the correct pile on the floor around you. His shirts, your shirts, his shirts that you also wear, his pants, your pants, socks, etc. It's so domestic your teeth ache.

He smirks. "I think you were staring at my ass when I bent over. Again." You fight a grin because obviously he's right. From this angle he looks impossibly tall and broad, handsome even in his rattiest sweats and a tattered t-shirt, hair a mess from a day of chores. He's beautiful and bright and yours.

"So what if I was?" you say, leaning back on your hands. His smirk turns to a toothy grin and he puts his hands on his hips and twists.

"Well, sweetheart," he says, "I don't blame you. It's a nice ass."

You laugh. "Don't get cocky, Lieutenant." Bradley groans.

"We talked about this," he says. "You gotta stop calling me that." The tips of his ears are slowly turning red.

"Remind me why?" you tease, batting your eyelashes at him. He groans again.

"Because," he drags out, taking a step towards you. "It's too...hot coming from you." He drops to his knees and you gasp quietly, which brings back his stupidly handsome smirk. "And it makes me want to do this."

With a speed you imagine comes with flying million dollar jets as his day job, Bradley is in your lap, knees bracketing your hips. You lean back instinctively, hands clutching his unfairly large biceps. One of his palms cups the back of your head and the other your jaw. He's heavy, sure, but you can tell he's keeping most of his weight off of you.

"Oh," you say, a bit stupidly. Even still, after knowing and loving him as long as you have, you're flustered."Point taken."

"Hold on," Bradley says, voice a little rougher than before. His face is so close you can see his pupils dilate. "Not done yet." He drags his lips across the soft skin of your cheek. Your fingers dig into the material of his t-shirt. Your heart hammers in your chest.

"Tease," you mutter. He hears you and chuckles lightly before bringing his lips to yours. Despite his teasing, the kiss is soft, gentle. His lips are a little dry and he licks lazily into your mouth just once before pulling away. He swipes his thumb over your lower lip and then flops off of your lap onto the floor next to you.

"Watch the piles!" you tell him, not really meaning it. He manages to swing a leg over yours and pull you into his side in one motion. Your head pillows on his shoulder and you rest your hand on his chest and synch your breaths.

"Can you believe it?" Bradley says softly. You hum, not sure what he means. In so many parts of his life, Bradley is a leader. He's confident, steadfast, prepared. He knows what he needs to do and he does it. People look to him for instruction but also for a joke, a kind word, a smile. He's magnetic in every room he's in. You adore all of these things about him, of course, but you also love the moments like this. When he's feeling softer, when he's with you, when he lets himself be more open. You love seeing this side of him and it feels like magic that you're the one who brings it out of him. "That this is our house. Our house."

You shift a little so that you can see his face. He's looking at the ceiling, eyes wide. There are still boxes in pretty much every room and you don't have a real coffee table yet. You keep rearranging the furniture in the bedroom and yesterday Bradley confessed that he still needs the GPS to get home from work. It's the beginning of something wonderful, something you never thought you'd have: a life with someone who loves you.

"Yeah, baby," you tell him, heart swelling. "It sure is." His mouth curls into a sheepish smile and he meets your gaze.

"Are you happy?" he asks. "Cause, I gotta tell you, I'm really fucking happy." You trace his chin with your thumb, unable to fight your own grin.

"I'm really fucking happy, too," you whisper. It's the truth. Sprawled out on the floor of your messy home, surrounded by laundry, encased in the arms of your beloved? There is nowhere happier.

Bradley kisses your forehead. "Good," he says, squeezing you just a little. "That's all I want."

"I love you," you tell him. Before he can reply, you keep talking. "But we really need to finish the laundry, Rooster," you say, patting his chest gently. "Unless you want to sleep on a bare mattress tonight."

He sighs, a great big breath that makes you rise and fall. "Yeah, yeah," he groans. "Just a few more minutes." You feel his lips on your hairline, his own admission of love a whisper into your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm and honestly, a few more minutes doesn't sound too bad at all.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[0sincerelyella]

Can I request one of Justin Herbert where you’re comforting him after a tough game, with lots of fluff, and it’s more of a night routine where they have dinner, watch tv, get ready for bed, cuddle! Thanks ☺️

I’m proud of you - Justin Herbert

Summary: Justin has a tough win, y/n will always be proud of him no matter what

notes: THIS IS SO EXCITING i don’t pay much attention to justin (being a bengals fan) but i do very much enjoy watching him play, so this should be fun:)

y/n turned off the TV with a sigh. she had just watched an absolutely devastating chargers loss. she couldn’t make it to the game, due to working late, and she knew it would take a toll on justin.

immediately y/n stood to start her after loss routine. knowing he’d be home in about two hours she began a quick meal.

she gathered every extra blanket in the house and sat them on their couch. she placed candles and the food on the coffee table. she grabbed his favorite pair of comfy clothes and set them beside the blankets, finally she put on his favorite movie, pressing pause, and awaited his arrival

when she heard keys in the door, she walked into the kitchen to greet him at the door. the door opened and justin tossed his duffle bag next to the door. “i’m home!” he called, a tired sound to his voice. y/n pulled him in a hug before he could even look up to see her. he smiled, taking a breath and instantly relaxing under her touch. “you did amazing justin, absolutely amazing im so so proud of you”

his hand rested behind her head and gripped her hair softly as he pulls her tighter into a hug. she knew he didn’t think so, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. he loves her and doesn’t want to hurt her “I love you” he whispers, rocking them side to side. “i love you too” she smiled, loving the hug. justin lifted his head, suddenly realizing there was a nice smell coming from the stove

“what is that smell?” he made his way into the kitchen with a happy smile on his face. “your favorite” y/n answered, holding his hand as he discovered a meatloaf in the oven, pieces already cut out of. “y/n, baby you didn’t have to” he looked as he was about to cry.

football meant a lot to him, he wanted nothing more than to bring his team to victory every game. but unfortunately it didn’t happen. the standard he held himself up to really hurt his ego sometimes. but every time without fail, y/n is at home, with his favorite food, his favorite clothes, and his favorite movie. she’s always there to take care of him, she’s his favorite girl.

justin grabbed the clothes off the couch and instantly changed like a kid ripping open a Christmas present. his smile got even bigger when he realized y/n was wearing matching pjs with his own. “oh my goodness” he said, picking her up and spinning her around in an excited happy manner. “i love you till the ends of the earth” justin held her so tightly, plopping them both on the couch.

“i love you justin, i love you so much it hurts” he kissed all over her face. y/n reached up to turn on the movie, high school musical, and they both leaned back on the couch.

justin held her to his chest as he recited the movie. he has seen this movie a million times and knew it like the back of his hand.

y/n traced hearts on his arms as she layed on his chest. justin kissed her head over and over in between every pause to sing the songs. justin stands up excitedly

“we’re sourin!” he pointed to y/n

“flyin” she started quietly

“there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach”

justin picked y/n up and sang to her like some stupid cheesy romance movie.

even though he lost his game today, he had his girl right by his side. he could care less, win, lose, he did what he loved to do and he had the girl of his dreams.

after the movie was over, y/n yawned, curling into justin’s side. “tired?” he asked, looking over at his girlfriend. she shook her head, barely able to keep her eyes open.

justin laughed, scooping her up into his arms much to her protest. she wiggled around in his arms and giggled. “put me down!” he shook his head, and ran up the stairs. he sat her on the bathroom counter and kissed her forehead “get ready for bed” he said, walking away and shutting their shared bedroom door.

“justinnnn!!!” she called, slouching in a pouty mood. “brush your teeth!” he called, presumably busy with something unknown.

y/n did as told, brushing her teeth and washing her face, she put her hair up and ran to the bedroom door, knocking like a mad woman “justin! i’m done and i’m tired let me in” justin waisted no time in letting her in, and she was met with blankets apon blankets stacked on the bed in a cozy nest, her favorite cartoons on the TV, and her favorite stuffed animals in the nest.

y/n squealed, running and jumping into the nest. she cuddled herself into the blankets, leaving justin at the door. “your such a jerk” he laughed, crawling into the blankets with her.

“i love you sweet girl” he said, kissing her face

“i love you too justin” she smiled, “oh and,” she turned around to face him

she placed a kiss to his lips with a soft

“i’m proud of you”

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

The festivities of Christmas were often overlooked by Bucky in his job in favour of rushing off to save a life, but not this year — this year, you were there to bring joy to him, and to all of his team.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☤ Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☤ 1.1k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☤ Tooth rotting fluff, work husband antics, teasing

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☤ I can't say which dynamic I love writing more — Stevie and Buck, or Peanut and Bucky.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☤ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Bucky stood in the entryway of the apartment, small figurine in hand. “What’s this?” He turned it over in his grip, inspecting the details of the snowman’s little arms and scarf. “It’s cute, but what is it?” 

“It’s another little guardian,” you said quietly, looking from the little bobble statue in his hand, up to his face. “I thought it could sit on the dash, you don’t have to–”

“Peanut, this little dude is fuckin’ adorable. He’s staying in the truck.” The small snowman wobbled as he shook it, boyish curiosity lighting up his face. “I wanna see if Stevie can send him flyin’,” he laughed, grinning widely down at it. “You know how he is.”

You beamed at Bucky and moved forward to hug him. “I’m glad, now go—go bring festive cheer to those who need it.” 

Bucky kissed you full on the lips before he stepped back towards the door. “I’ll try. Be safe, okay?”

“It’s cookies—I won’t burn the place down,” you teased, and Bucky arched a brow. “I won’t! Now go!”

“If you say so,” he murmured, and he placed the figurine in his bag. “I’ll message you when I get there.”

“Okay, be safe, my hero,” you called, blowing him kisses as you shooed him out the door. The chilled breeze nipped at your nose while you watched him walk away, then you listened for the sound of his car rumbling to life. 

The holiday season has always been nerve wracking as the best friend, now partner, of an EMT, that was a given — drunken mishaps, snowy accidents, combined with the fiery, festive attitude that many people exhumed, and it was no surprise that Bucky, a high-ranking member of the paramedicine force, was run off his feet. 

There were days that he would come home absolutely exhausted, down to the very last fibre of his being, and then there were days that you couldn’t console him in his grief — the loss of a patient far too painful for him to bear. 

On occasion, there were happy days, too. They were relatively simple acts — Bucky making a patient laugh with his absolutely horrible jokes, or if he got to a patient and managed to help them, save them just in the nick of time. 

It was true, Bucky was a real hero, and he needed all the guardians he could get. 

“Alright,” you mumbled, padding slowly into the kitchen, a thoughtful crease in your brow. The ingredients for sugar cookies lined the counter, with the bonus edition of chocolate chips and peanut butter. “Knowing Stevie, he will devour the damn peanut butter ones like no one’s business,” you said louder while you stared at the ingredients. 

The game plan to make the hampers was more stressful than you’d admit.

Finally, you exclaimed, “Sugar cookies, choc chip, and then peanut butter it is—or whatever they’re called.” With the decision made, you set to work on dividing up flour, eggs, and all else of what you needed. 

A few moments passed by with little incident from the flour when your phone chimed. It was Bucky’s ringtone. You rushed to brush your hands of the loose clouds of powder, and you picked up the phone to look at the screen. 

There was a text with an attachment. Excited, you swiped at the screen to open the picture, only you found it was a video.

The thumbnail was Bucky’s face, a broad smirk on his lips. 

You pressed play and watched as he opened his mouth and said, “Stevie here has some words for you, Peanut, baby.” 

The camera flipped to show the blond himself, a pout on his lips. “Where is my little guardian, Peanut?” Steve asked, pointing at the camera. “Stop playing favourites—Bucky is my husband before your boyfriend, so I am in on this relationship.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Just you wait, Cap,” you said.

Through the speaker, you heard Bucky laugh and you watched him shove Steve in the shoulder hard enough that he stumbled out of frame. “Shut it, punk,” Bucky said. “Anyway, this lil’ dude is gonna sit on the dash, baby. And Stevie’s driving first.” 

“Oh no,” you laughed, and you sat down on one of the kitchen chairs as the video ended. 

There was a picture sent next, and you pressed it, smiling happily when you saw the snowman figurine sitting proudly on the dash, right next to the small stuffie you had given Bucky previously. 

Just as you started to type a reply, another message came through with another attachment, this time with the text: HELP ME!

You opened the new attachment, and like the other video, it opened on Bucky’s face — only this time, he looked remarkably more frightened. “Hey, ba- Rogers! Chill out!” There was an engine rev and a laugh in the background before Bucky looked back at the camera. “I have him set up on the dash now, and let’s see how long he lasts.”

The camera flipped forward, and you watched while the snowman wobbled and tipped with the movement of the ambulance. “He’s holdin’ up well so far– Oh, I spoke too fuckin’ soon.” Steve’s laughter boomed over the speaker as the snowman slid over the dash, comedically slow, as they took a corner. 

“I need a guardian just to save me from this punk’s driving,” Bucky lamented, and you grinned as he turned the camera back to him. His eyes were wide in exaggerated shock. “Please, I need more, sweetheart—I won’t last.” 

“On it,” you said to the screen, and you grabbed a pen and a pad of paper before scribbling it down — buy more guardians to save my hero — at the top of your to-do list. 

Just as Bucky opened his mouth to speak again, you heard the telltale beep of their radio go off, then the voice of a dispatcher. Bucky made a noise of affirmation as he listened, and you watched his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened; unable to discern anything from the tinny sound, you couldn’t tell whether it was an ordinary call, or a serious call. 

“Okay, baby girl, I gotta go,” Bucky said quickly, and he looked directly into the camera; directly at you. “I’ll message you later.” He blew a kiss to the camera and smiled. “I love you!” The video ended and minimised on its own. 

“Be safe, babe,” you whispered. Glancing up at the ingredients, you made a hasty decision. You picked up the pen you used to write the previous note, and just under it, you wrote an amendment: buy all my heroes their own guardian, and Bucky an extra one. “They all need it.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[austinsmutler]

Just Pretend | Austin!Elvis x Reader | One-Shot

Summary: Elvis calls you up while he's on tour to tell you how much he misses you.

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Reader, Elvis x Reader

What you’ll like: Oh, this is just tooth-achingly fluffy. I've met pomeranians less fluffy than this one. For added points listen to Just Pretend while you read.

Warnings: None, Elvis just really misses you and you miss him so it's a lil sad but it's also cute.

Word Count: 776

A/N: Written because I had a crappy day at work and I needed it.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want! Confess your sins! Have a good time with it!)

“Baby?”

Elvis’ hand shook just holding the phone. Just waiting for an answer. 

“Elvis?” Your voice crackled through the receiver, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s good to hear your voice.”

“I missed you too.” On the other side of the state, your fingers played with the telephone wire. “How’s the tour?”

“We're in Mississippi, heading to Alabama next week. They love me here.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am! I just…” He took a breath loud enough for you to hear on the other end of the country. “Haven’t heard your voice in so long, angel.”

His voice had you leaning up against the wall and smiling sadly to yourself. Every day the papers came out with a new theory on who Elvis could be dating- or worse, saying he was having flings left and right with fans all across the country. The way he sounded, though, made it feel like he’d been feeling all the same things you had. You missed him so much it felt like a piece of you was missing. Like someone’d taken the red out of every bouquet of roses, no matter how many he sent from five states away.

“I just wanna come flyin’ back to you.” He said after a while. “I love the music. I love performing. But I…”

I love you more. It was the phrase he could never quite bring himself to say. You bit your lip, knowing it wasn’t true. Nothing could compare to the love he felt when he was up on stage, or the adrenaline rush that came after. But you were lucky enough to come close, and sometimes that was enough. Hearing his voice made it enough.

“Just pretend I’m right there.” You whispered into the receiver, closing your eyes and picturing the last time you’d seen Elvis. He’d hugged you so tight, made a million promises to be home soon. “Or that you never left. We’re back in Memphis, walking down Beale street together. Window shopping for things we can’t afford.”

“You’d look so pretty in any of those dresses, baby.”

“And you’d cut a mean figure in any of those suits.” You bit your lip. How can pretending to be together hurt more than being apart? It hurt more than remembering the countless days spent just like that, wandering Beale street and taking in all the brightness and beauty of Memphis.

“Can I take your hand?” He breathed into the phone. “I’ve missed doing that.”

You couldn’t be seen in public together. Colonel’s orders. If you did go out together, it had to be as part of a group, with multiple women. Fans and a few male bandmates. Someone else would hold your hand to throw reporters off the scent, or pull you close to make it look real in the photographs- and it killed both of you every time, so eventually you’d stopped going out. Now you had to be snuck into Graceland through the side-door just to hold him.

“Yes.” Tears were in your eyes now, and part of you was glad he wasn’t there to see them. Another part wanted nothing more than for him to be there, wiping them away with soft touches. “I love it when you take my hand.”

A long moment of silence let you savour the feel of his fingers lacing with yours. Just pretend.

“It’s so sunny out.” He chuckled, but you heard the vulnerability in it. He’s as close to tears as I am. “S’nice.”

You looked out of the window in your bedroom. It was dark out, but you were picturing Beale Street on a July day, packed with people.

“It’s hot, though.” A smile crept to your lips and he knew what you were thinking before you said it. “Club Handy?”

“Club Handy, baby.”

“Club handy always has the best music.”

“You been goin’ without me?”

“Never.” It hurt too much. As much as you missed BB King, as much as you loved the music from Little Richard, Sister Rosetta, and Big Mama Thornton, it was impossible to see the club without Elvis-coloured glasses, and it hurt. He was everywhere, from the moves on the dancefloor to the sounds of the stage, but he was nowhere at the same time. Too far away to touch. “I miss it sometimes. But the music doesn’t sound the same when you’re not with me.”

The other end of the line was quiet, and for a moment you worried something was wrong. Maybe Elvis had left the phone, or run out of quarters, if it was a pay phone; maybe he’d just decided it wasn’t worth him feeling like this anymore just to be with you. Phone calls never felt like enough. 

Then his voice came through, clear and soft and melodic. 

“Just pretend, I'm holding you

And whispering things soft and low

And think of me, how it's gonna be

Just pretend I didn't go

I will hold you and love you again

But until then, we'll just pretend.”

[desswright29]

“They keep saying that I’m nothing like my father But, I'm the furthest thing from choir boys and altars If you cross me, I'm just like my father” “I am colder than Titanic water”

Pairing: Shuri/ Y/n / Riri

Contains: Dark, Angst, Tragedy, Murder, Cold hearted Shuri, Heart broken Shuri, Rider Riri, First love Reader.

A/N: I guess I’ve been what people call inspired. Not much going on in the Shuri fanfiction world right now so this is being written purely because the vision won’t let me go. Lol But those who read I hope you enjoy! Also it’s a series. Hopefully a short one.

“I'll be your shotgun rider 'Til the day I die Smoke out the window flyin' Down the 405 I'll be your backseat baby, drivin' you crazy Anytime you like I'll be your shotgun rider 'Til the day I, 'til the day I die”

“Sixteen carriages drivin' away While I watch them ride with my fears away To the summer sunset on a holy night On a long back road, all the tears I fight”

Introduction

His naked body thrashed under the grip of my fingers. I stare souless into his eyes wondering how long could he hold his breath before his death. Looking into the black holes he called eyes, there was only one word that could describe what I saw behind them. Tragedy…Years of my lives tragedies, my losses drowned beneath my grip. Bubbles flowed from his nose and lips, his eyes widened from what I could only guess was pure shock beneath the water. Slowly the urgency behind his movements stop. The oxygen bubbles seized by the water. My sleeves are submerged and bloody. I don’t care. A single tear of relief falls from my eye, and a slow smile spreads across my lips. It was over. The bloody trail of bodies left behind me, all for this one moment. I wanted to savour it. The sweet sweet taste of his death. 

  In an instant a shot rang out, a burning pain, taking over my body. My eyes widened as I let out a strangled gasp. And there you were, Thando Wam. Smiling at me. Innocent, ethereal, unscathed. You carressed my face, kissed my lips, told me it was going to be ok. 

“I’m sorry. I-I’m s-so sorry. S-Sthandwa.” I whispered. My body slides down the side of the claw foot tub as you reach for me. Ready to take me into your arms. Take me to safety. But there were so many people. Yelling, pointing there guns. I reach over to my right, grabbing my automatic Glock. I lift it, closing my eyes.

“I love you.” 

I fire. 

“HEY!” I awake gasping for air, my hand landing on my chest. My body jerked upward as I look around frantically. Confused. Heart racing. A strange man stood over me on the back of a bus, and I grip my trash bag filled with all the belongings I had in the world. “Yehlisa umoya (calm down), Young lady. We’re at your stop.” He says face upturned in concern. My breathing slows as I realize I was only dreaming. I nod, groggily wiping my face before grabbing my belongings, and standing to my feet stretching. Making my way off of the bus, i shoot a soft “thank you,” over my shoulder to the old man. As I step off onto the concrete, the doors close behind me and I take in the scenery, breathing in the fresh air. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the paper that held my lifeline. A simple address. And I began my journey.

 As I walk I feel the stares, as though I was some sort of alien. A mixture of disgust, or pity. I wore the standard release clothes they gave all the prisoners who couldn’t fit the ones they wore when they went in. Khakis and a Polo, white socks with slides, and I did the best I could with my hair. But, there’s only so much you can do with it in there. I’m sure I looked exactly like what I was. An ex-con. I couldn’t care less right now though. Right now I was leaning onto something I rarely allowed myself to. And that was hope. Hope that I would make it to this address, and all of the shame, and embarrassment would melt away. That I’d be excepted.

Finally,  I reach my destination, a nice apartment complex about five minutes away from the university. I stood frozen. Afraid of what awaited me there, as people walked by ogoling me. I took a deep breath and gave myself words of encouragement in my head and moved forward. Entering the building, I walk up three flights of stairs to the correct floor. Searching for the number 3112. I spot it to the left of me and stop in front. I shift on my feet working up the nerve to knock. Swallowing I lift my fist knocking three times. 

“Who is it?” I hear immediately. The sound of her voice sending me into a state of shock and once again I freeze. My heart dropping, and my eyes begining to water a bit. I could only stand there lost for words. I hear her footsteps approaching, and shuffling behind the door. I struggle with the thought of just turning away no way you would accept me this way. It was too late, I heard a gasp, right before the door swings open. There you stand. Even more beautiful than I remember, eyes wide, glistening with tears. 

“Shuri.” You whisper. Your eyes trailed my body. More than likely taken aback by the tattoo’s that lined my arms and neck. Your bottom lip began to quiver, and you allowed a tear to fall from your eye. “Shuri?” You say again. In disbelief.

“It’s me baby. I’m back.”