#and her husband hasn’t come back. so what makes her think her kids will either

[aldoodles]

Here's a toughy if your into some angst esque moments. You capture facial expressions so well.

Grace, sitting at the table, waiting for her kids to come home at the end of Book 1.

If I was her I wouldn’t’ve been able to function let alone keep going to work

[zvdvdlvr]

i raise u hotch x f!r who was pronounced kia but she comes back?

— Home

— 🧠 synopsis. After being pronounced KIA, reader shows up after a year.

— 🧠 warnings. Foul language

part one

‘‘We regret to inform you-‘’ was the first and only thing Aaron heard before his vision blurred and his hands went slack.

If had happened, his biggest fear: you were never coming home. The only personal effects Aaron received was your wallet and dog tags with your wedding band on it. The flag that the marines handed him was heavy in his arms.

As they left, Aaron dropped his head in his hands and set the things he was handed down carefully on his desk. Before he did anything else, he shut his office blinds and sank into his chair. 

God, he thought, what do I tell Jack? 

— 🧠

It had been about a year since being kidnapped by the cartel your unit was attempting to bring down. One year of sensory deprivation. One year of curling into yourself at night dreaming of waking up with Jack laughing as you swung him around on your arm. One year of thinking about Aaron’s gravely voice whispering a sweet ‘good morning’ right before he kissed your temple. 

“You ready?” One of your longtime mentors/father figures Jethro asked. 

You nod and bit your lip. “Jethro what if he’s moved on from me? What if… he stopped loving me?” You asked, malnourished body shaking from your anxiety. 

The man only scoffed. “Not Aaron Hotchner, y/n. He wears your dog tags, you know. He hasn’t moved on from you, kid.” 

Finally you stepped out of Gibbs’ truck and nodded. You truly hoped Jethro was right. Your fresh uniform was big on your frame- you had lost a lot of weight and muscle after being fed only a meal every two days. 

Stepping into the elevator made you want to cry. The familiar beep of the machine soothed your soul more than you ever thought possible. 

Your stomach did flips as you stepped into the bullpen, hoping and praying that your reunion went well. 

— 🧠

In the year that you’d been gone, Hotch changed. 

He no longer smiled. Ever. The laugh he had with the team alnost every day after meeting you was gone. Aaron had no patience for anything either. 

Emily recalled one month anniversary of your deathdate. Hotch’s eyes were the reddest they had ever been and he genuinely looked like he had just been stabbed in the gut. That day, he had yelled twice at the two cops that had continued to bicker over evidence. And once at Rossi. 

The only reason Rossi didn’t say anything in response to Aaron’s anger was because he knew exactly where Aaron’s mind was: with you and your apparent grave on the other side of the world. 

But she watched your boots hit the ground, hair pulled back into the bun you had taught her all those years ago when you and Hotch first started dating. Emily watched you stand nervously in your spot, eyes scared. 

Emily never remembered seeing you scared. 

Your lip quivered as you made eye contact with her. 

No one else had seen you yet, so Emily sprinted over to you and let you sink into her embrace. 

“Aaron?” You asked, voice hoarse.

Emily nodded, vision blurred. “Go see him, y/n. He’s- none of us… we thought…” Her voice cracked and wavered. 

“I love you, Em,” you said, slipping out of her grasp again. But this time, Emily knew you were alive.

The walk up the stairs made your heart race. 

You brought your hand up to the door and knocked. Below, you could already hear Emily talking to the team. You heard your name, some gasps, and then silence.

“Come in,” Hotch called gruffly from the other side of the door.

You twisted the door handle and pushed. And then you stepped into the room. 

“Can I help you?” Your husband asked without looking up. His head was bent and he slouched, something he always nagged on you to make sure you never did. How far did he fall in one year?

“I wanted to see my husband,” you say, voice shaky. “I heard he was here.”

Aaron shot up from his chair, seat flying backwards. His eyes. Oh, his eyes.

“Y-y/n?” He asked. His hair was a mess; it looked like all he had done lately was worriedly run a hand through it. Your heart ached for the man in front of you.

You stepped forward. “Hi, angel,” you said, taking another step forward. 

“You died, y/n. I- we all… Jack and I-“ Aaron stuttered, tears falling from his cheeks as he watched the love of his life stand in uniform, an arms length away.

“I missed you. So much,” you say, crying now.

Aaron strode over to you and hugged you, letting his body fall slowly to the floor as you cried in his arms. “Oh my love,” Aaron cried, hiding his face into the crooke of your neck. 

You were home.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 6] Same Old

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter ���

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Talks of Abortion, Toji being a major asshole, Talks of Cheating

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You feel awful during the week. Nothing to do with pregnancy symptoms but the fact that your husband– Rather, ex-husband is just the biggest scum that you’ve ever come across. You knew that he didn’t want kids, and you should’ve expected his response to be an abortion. You just didn’t expect him to react happily at the thought that he finally trapped you, meaning that he doesn’t care about the fact that you’re having a baby, he just wants you unable to go anywhere.

You’ve grown to resent him even more. And you’re growing to resent yourself because you can’t stop loving him. You wish you could rip your heart out and get rid of your feelings, alas, it isn’t that simple. You’ll have to learn to move on slowly, and balance the love and resentment that you hold of him… The father of your child.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you should get an abortion so you’re not tied to him for the rest of your life. But you also want to be a mother, even if it means that you’re stuck with Toji one way or another.

Your personal issues leave you absentminded at work. You barely hear the phone ringing, and when you do, it’s almost too late. You luckily pick it up. That’s your only job, answering phones, it’d be a shame if you couldn’t do that correctly.

“I’m here to talk to–” You hear a very familiar voice, and you feel a sigh leave your lips as you look up at him. You finish the conversation on the phone, and when you hang up, you clear your throat to ask,

“What are you doing here, Toji?” You make it clear that you’re not exactly pleased with his presence, and he rolls his eyes at your reaction. He isn’t here for you either way. He opens his mouth to speak but you do it before him, “Will you please leave me alone? I think we need a lot of time away from each other before–”

“Toji!” You turn your head to the woman that calls out his name. A manager in your workplace. She walks over to Toji, and you watch as they share a hug, one that lasts too much for your liking. They’ve known each other for some time, that’s clear, but Toji hasn’t come around in the time that you’ve been working here. She looks at you and orders, “Tell my assistant to cancel all my meetings.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You respond, watching as she walks back to her office and he follows behind. You do as she says, dialing the extension and telling the assistant that his boss is occupied. You feel your blood boil, even though you don’t care about Toji’s romances. If he has something going on with that woman, it obviously started while you were together. 

Your chest feels heavy, thinking about the one time you chased him around thinking that he was cheating, but he was just working. Maybe he didn’t have to go elsewhere because his job had all he needed. Maybe you trusted him too much. You shouldn’t care, you’re already separated anyway. But you have to know.

You obviously can’t barge into the office and demand answers, matter of fact, you still don’t really want to talk to Toji. You try to not pay any attention to him, and to do that you decide to look at baby clothes. You shouldn’t, you don’t have the money for it right now, there’s other things you should figure out. It doesn’t hurt to look though.

Someone knocks on the reception desk, making you look up and away from the computer screen that displays the cutest onesie. It’s the assistant, Nanami. You smile at him, tilting your head to the side before asking, “How may I help you?”

“Why did she cancel?” He asks, and you shrug.

“She’s with Toji. Probably fuc–” You keep the thought to yourself. You don’t want to be inappropriate at work. Nanami’s brows raise.

“You think there’s something going on there? She’s just really flirty and he returns it because he’s trying to sell something to her.” He tells you, and you sigh. You want that to be the situation because you can’t stand the thought of hating Toji but knowing that he’s been cheating might be your final straw. “That’s what some people say though. I have no idea. Others say that they’re together.”

“It’s none of our business in the end, I guess.” You say and he hums in response.

“Are you two on a first name basis or what? Never heard someone refer to him as Toji, not even my boss.” Kento says, and you’re taken back by the question. You didn’t really expect that question especially since the man in front of you isn’t all that talkative; he’s bored and has nothing to do but he still has to stick around.

“We have a long history together.” You answer, not bothering to give more details. He isn’t going to pry. He nods his head in response, and since he has nothing more to ask or say, he leaves reception and goes back to his desk.

For the rest of the work day, you find yourself looking at baby clothes, growing excited over the fact that you’re growing life inside of you. Even if it’s Toji’s child.

The biggest sigh leaves your lips when you’re finally home after a long day at work. You luckily have the night off from your second job, and now you have the time to lounge around and be lazy. You were planning on leaving your second job once you got the chance to move out but since you’re pregnant, you have to save up your money so you can take some time off when your baby comes– Additionally, all the costs that come with a baby. You’re not counting on Toji.

A groan leaves your lips as you stretch. You get up from your couch and walk to the bathroom to turn on the faucet and fill the tub with water. You need a nice long bath to unwind, and hopefully it’ll help you to get your mind off Toji and the fact that he may have been cheating on you while you were married. You want to believe Nanami, but he’s oblivious to pretty much everything that’s going on around him.

You get undressed and soak yourself in the tub when it’s full. You allow yourself to relax in the warm water, shutting your eyes, trying your best to not fall asleep in the water. You have to open your eyes when you catch yourself drifting off. You grab a bottle of your bath bubbles and pour some into the water so you can entertain yourself like that.

You begin to play with the water to make bubbles, and when your bath is filled with them, you hear a knock on the front door. It’s rather aggressive, so it’s hard not to notice. You get out of the water, irritated as you grab a towel and dry yourself off. You don’t have enough time to run to your room to change into clothes so you grab your bathrobe and wrap it around yourself.

When you approach the door, the person knocks again, even harsher than before. You open the door, and you aren’t surprised to find your ex-husband standing before you with a bag that contains what you assume is food. You cross your arms, tilting your head to the side and ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Thought we’d have some dinner together after the awkward events from earlier.” He says, trying to disregard the fact that you’re just wearing a bathrobe with probably nothing underneath. The thought alone drives him wild. 

“Why would I want to have dinner with you?” You ask him, letting it be known that you’re not exactly pleased with his presence. You don’t understand why you have to make it painfully obvious that you don’t want to be near him, he should know at this point. He’s just ignoring what you want for his own selfish reasons. You shouldn’t be surprised though, you married him knowing how selfish he is; you didn’t expect to divorce him though, and you didn’t expect his selfishness to affect you while you’re separating.

“I could tell you were upset when I left… So why not?” He responds and you don’t budge. He tries to weakly smile, and it comes off awful. “And you’re pregnant so I got you your favorite.”

“Fine.” You end up agreeing. You’re hungry and the thought of eating your favorite food brings joy to your heart– Except you’re not even sure if Toji bought the right meal, he doesn’t know you that well. You don’t think he does. But you’re hungry anyway. “You can set the table while I put on some clothes.”

“I don’t know–” He begins but you cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

“You wanted to have dinner with me, you can figure it out yourself. It’s not that hard.” You give him attitude before you walk to your room, leaving him to figure it out. Going through all the drawers isn’t that hard, he’s still a bit annoyed that he has to do so. He can’t really argue with you though since the last thing you want is for him to be at your apartment.  You walk back, asking, “Did you find everything?”

“Yeah.” He answers, walking over to the table to organize the plates and utensils. You take a seat while he handles that. You watch as he does a task that he never did while you were married. You never really minded though, you had an agreement: you take care of the house while he pays for every bill. 

When he takes a seat, you waste no time in serving yourself food. A small smile comes to your lips when you realize that he, in fact, did get your favorite food. You wipe it off your face before he can see it. You don’t want to give him that satisfaction of seeing you smile. 

You quietly begin to eat when the food is served. Toji doesn’t like the silence, even if it’s what he wanted a couple of months ago. He clears his throat before asking, “So… Why were you upset?”

“I wasn’t upset.” You answer with your mouth full of food. You don’t want him to think that you’re upset, even though you so clearly are.

“When I left, I tried to talk to you but you couldn’t even look at me.” He points out, and you continue eating in silence.

“You should leave. Megumi already spends a lot of time alone.” You try to change the topic and kick him out of the apartment but that won’t work so easily on him. He takes a deep breath, standing up from the chair and walking to your kitchen to grab himself a glass of water.

“Why were you upset?” He asks, and you decide that suppressing your feelings isn’t really going to solve much. You sigh.

“Were you cheating on me while we were married?” You finally ask the question that’s been bugging your mind all day. Toji chokes on the water that he drinks, punching his chest as he coughs it out. You wait for his response patiently, watching him as you eat the food that’s in front of you.

“Why would you even suggest that? Do you not trust me?” He sounds deeply offended by the question, making another sigh leave your lips. You should’ve known that would be his response.

“I don’t. You did it once, you might do it again.” You tell him, and his brows furrow.

“That happened months into our relationship and you decided to stick around. I never did it again, I swear to you on my life.” He argues, which doesn’t really help you. You can’t bring yourself to trust him, at least not now.

“Then why was that lady so… Touchy. A little too close.” You remind him, and a smirk comes to Toji’s lips. He tilts his head to the side before asking,

“Are you jealous?” Which makes you roll your eyes. You don’t care to answer that, of course you’re jealous but you won’t admit it to him.

“Answer.” You order, and he puts the glass down. He walks back to the table and takes a seat. It feels like forever as you wait for him to answer. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you wait for a response.

“Flirting comes with the job sometimes. Flatter her, secure the company’s business.” He answers, and your eyes widen.

“I–” You open and close your mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what you say. You’re hurt by his actions, and it leads you to say, “That’s cheating, Toji.”

“No it isn’t. I never wanted anything to do with her.” He points out, which doesn’t really help you. You feel nauseous and you have to stop eating before you throw it all back up. You have to take a deep breath before speaking again,

“Imagine if I started flirting with some random guy just to secure a good tip–” You begin but he cuts you off.

“If it’s your job, I wouldn’t care. You’re making more money for us.” He says, making you take another deep breath. You can’t believe this is the conversation you’re having with him.

“Right… You wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t even care if I was flirting just for attention.” You respond, and he crosses his arms. He clicks his tongue.

“What are you trying to say?” He asks, which makes a sigh escape your lips. You have to look away from him because you feel the tears well up in your eyes.

“That you’ve never really cared about me like that Toji. You wanted someone to fill the role of your wife, and that’s what I did essentially. You never cared for me as your lover though, you couldn’t care less about what I did as long as I continued to play wife.” You tell him, and he rolls his eyes. He’s tired of listening to this. 

“That’s not true.” He responds. Of course. He’s not going to admit his faults, he never will.

“And if I told you I slept with someone once while we were together… Would you feel jealous? What if I told you I was seeing someone else now?” You bring up, and his brows raise. He finds himself speechless, completely unsure of how to respond to that. He ends up chuckling before saying,

“I wouldn’t feel jealous because I know neither of those things are true.” He knows you better than you think. But that’s not the reaction you want to see. “Let’s drop this. I was never cheating on you, now that that’s settled–”

“Maybe it isn’t cheating but it certainly hurts my feelings.” You respond, not wanting to drop the subject yet. “You couldn’t even bother giving me that type of attention, but you could do it to other women.”

“Why are you so overdramatic?” He scoffs. 

“You’re right, Toji. I’m overdramatic. Yet you’re the one here that refuses to leave because for some stupid reason you think we can get back together.” You slightly raise your voice at him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why do I have to constantly show you that I love you? Do you not believe me?” He proceeds to ask which nearly makes your eye twitch. You can’t believe how long you stuck with this man.

“No! I made it clear that I don’t trust you.” You waste no time in answering. “Plus I’ve never been sure of your love in the first place.”

“I do love you.” He responds. You’re tired of hearing the same lie over and over again. You don’t see the point, he can just find another woman to play as his wife. 

“This feels like the same conversation. We have this conversation every single time we talk.” You say, focusing back on eating. “Let’s not. Let’s change the topic or finish eating in silence.”

“Right.” Toji ends up sighing. “I’m covering half of your rent and your bills. I want you to leave your second job.”

“Huh?” You’re not sure if your ears are deceiving you. But he repeats it and you’re right. “What about your gambling addiction? Can you handle that?”

“Don’t bring that up. I don’t have an addiction either way.” Toji responds. But you’re not leaving your second job. He isn’t reliable. Even if you want to leave your second job to have nights off and be able to relax. “I guess… It’d be ideal if you moved back in but you’re not doing that.”

“Why are you doing this? Do you suddenly care about the pregnancy?” You ask. You don’t want him to be doing this simply because he wants to win you back, but knowing him he might be doing this just for that. 

“I guess I have no other option. It’s my baby too.” He ends up saying, and you have no idea if you’re supposed to feel good about it. You have mixed emotions over it. “I can’t be a shitty father.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Carry Us

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Tim carrying your son out of the hospital is the cutest thing you've ever seen, and you make sure you'll never forget it.

Warnings: so much fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“How many times is this?” Angela asks.

Angela, Lucy, and Wesley have been in and out of the hospital room several times since you arrived. Tim, however, doesn’t seem to remember how to sit down. He has paced, left, and come back more times than you can count. The moment you were given discharge paperwork, he began going back and forth to the car.

“Uh, six, I think,” you answer.

Lucy is holding your son, and you are changed and ready to go. The only thing keeping you at the hospital is Tim. He left this time to “get the car seat” so you’re hoping that he plans to leave this time.

“You’re so cute,” Lucy whispers.

“Thanks,” you and Angela say together.

“That never stops being funny,” Wesley teases as he returns. “Where’s Tim?”

“The car,” you, Lucy, and Angela answer together.

“Again?”

Lucy chuckles, and your baby reaches a hand up toward her. Wesley moves to stand beside her and extends a finger toward the blue bundle.

“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Tim announces as he returns with the car seat.

“Are you sure? Did you check the brake pads, too?” Angela replies.

“Funny. Are you ready?”

You nod and extend an arm toward Tim. He rounds the bed and takes your hand, which you use to pull him closer.

“Well, baby Bradford and I will see you around then,” Lucy says.

Tim rolls his eyes and gently removes his hand from yours. He takes his son from Lucy’s hold, and you smile as Tim’s eyes light up when he looks down at him.

“I’ll make sure to keep Aunt Lucy far away from you, buddy,” he murmurs. “She gets annoying.”

“Hey!” Lucy exclaims. “Don’t lie to him and turn him against me. We’re best friends.”

“Your best friend is a baby?”

“You know what I mean! You just called me Aunt Lucy!”

“And we look forward to seeing you at the house next week. Not a moment before, understood?”

“Angela got an open invite,” Lucy grumbles.

“Angela has kids, and we trust her,” Tim argues.

“What he means is that we want some quiet for a few days. Not that having you around hasn’t been great, we just need the downtime,” you explain. “I’ll send pictures.”

“Thank you,” Lucy says. “I have to go, but I’ll see you when I’m invited.”

“Have a good day, Lucy,” Tim says.

“Do you need anything else?” Angela asks as she stands.

“I don’t think so,” you answer. “Thank you for everything, Angela.”

She hugs you quickly before saying, “Of course. Call if you need anything else.”

You smile as she leaves and wish Wesley luck in his upcoming court case.

“Seriously,” Wesley says as he stops in the doorway. “Call anytime for anything.”

“Thanks, Wesley,” Tim says.

After they leave, you stand and Tim rushes toward you. His hands find their place on either side of your waist, and you lean against him to look at your baby boy, snug in his new car seat. He’s asleep, with a happy smile on his face, and you know Tim’s smile matches it perfectly. Seeing your husband reflected in your son is one of the best things you have ever seen, and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone other than Tim Bradford.

“Are you ready to go now?” you ask.

“I’m sorry I made you wait, I just needed to be sure everything was perfect. As perfect as it can be, at least,” Tim replies with a kiss on your head.

“I get it. Thank you, for everything.”

Tim turns you away from the car seat and kisses you quickly. He’d been at work when your water broke and your contractions grew close together, yet he picked you up and got you to the hospital with several minutes to spare before you went into active labor. The whole time, Tim was right by your side, and you’ve fallen more in love with him through each moment of your pregnancy.

“You’re sure you’re okay to walk?” Tim double-checks.

You nod and reach for the overnight bag you brought with you. Tim huffs as he gently knocks your hand out of the way. He pulls the bag over his shoulder and then reaches for the car seat handle.

“You can’t carry everything, Tim,” you argue.

“I can,” he answers quickly. “That’s what these muscles are for.”

You chuckle behind him, but when Tim raises the car seat, his back muscles flexing under his shirt, you stop laughing. Everything about this moment is perfect, and watching Tim walk ahead of you brings you joy. It’s adorable, how he glances down at his sleeping son every few steps and shifts the car seat to find the most comfortable position for both of them. You pull your phone out and take a short recording as you follow them down the hall, though you doubt you’ll ever forget this moment.

“Why are you way back there?” Tim asks as he turns at the elevator.

“Just enjoying the view,” you say. “You’re even cuter when you’re carrying a baby, you know.”

“Weird. You were cute carrying the baby, too.”

You kiss Tim’s cheek before leaning against his side. When the elevator opens, Tim keeps you against one side and your baby on the other. Though you can’t see the same adorable view as before, walking beside Tim has always been more comfortable. It’s where you fit, where you belong, and where you always want to be.

There’s a goodie bag in the passenger seat of Tim’s truck, but he shrugs when you ask what it is. The tag says it’s from the best aunts in the world, and you immediately text Lucy and Angela to thank them. After Tim makes sure the car seat is in properly and your baby is as safe and comfortable as possible, he climbs into the driver’s seat and looks at you.

“What?” you ask softly.

“Nothing. I just love you,” he answers.

“I love you too.”

Tim leans over the center console to kiss you quickly. The first few minutes of the drive, you twist in your seat to watch the back of the car seat and make sure everything looks okay. Then, you watch the video of Tim walking before you in the hospital.

“What is that?” Tim asks.

“You.”

“Why did you record that?”

“Because it was adorable, and I love both of you. Oh! We need to get a picture of all three of us.”

Tim passes you his phone and tells you to check the camera roll. Someone, Angela, you assume, took dozens of pictures of you and Tim lying in the hospital bed and looking lovingly at the baby boy in your arms. There are pictures of everyone with the baby, but a particularly good one of Tim holding him quickly becomes your lock screen.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you,” Tim promises. “And I’ll never stop showing you… But I’m going to need an equally ‘adorable’ video now.”

You laugh, but quickly slap a hand over your face when your son stirs in the backseat. He coos, and you and Tim smile at one another before exiting the truck to take your baby home.

[emmyrosee]

there's something about atsumu being all pouty and sulky that makes him more adorable. (please i love him so much) i just watched a TikTok video of a married couple and this ask is based on this. so what if after an argument, you being atsumu's wife doesn't cook enough food for three (three bcs u have a daughter who has her uncle samu's appetite. and yes, bcs im a sucker for dad atsumu au) and just told him to cook for himself or order takeout or something bcs u didn't think that he'll eat at home. please 🥺 i just wanna see his reaction 👀

*the argument is about him not wanting to go home (poor boy says he needs to practice more) after you text and call him a hundred times bcs it's past practice time. so the next evening, you didn't cook food that'll be enough for the three of you.

NO WAIT PAUSE IM OBSESSED WITH THIS-

also im so glad you’re a sucker for the dad/uncle au bc same HA-

I know damn well in that pretty head of Atsumu’s that he does, try his hardest to be home for dinner. Always one to be accounted for, always there beside you, mowing down on the food you’d either spent the entire day cooking, or grabbing after your errands.

But for the past few nights, he just. Hasn’t.

He’s been with the boys, or staying overtime at practice, or hanging out with Osamu because he could always use a set of hands, and for some reason, rather than just telling you this, he doesn’t. He leaves you to figure it out for yourself.

It leads to a pretty nasty spat, thankfully one Hisako was asleep for, about you just wanting a text so you know that you don’t have to look forward to enjoying dinner with him (okay. A little cruel, but he had it coming!) or setting an extra plate. It made him snarl out how ‘he’s a grown man’ and ‘he can make his own dinner plans’ and ‘take care of his damn self without you,’ and you felt your heart sink to the base of your chest.

He sighs softly, “I didn’t mean that-“

“Then take care of yourself,” you snap, turning on your heel to get ready for bed. Even though there’s some half choked apologies that fall from both of your lips, you make the conscious decision to stop trying so hard.

If he wasn’t going to appreciate the work you go out of your way to do for him to enjoy a hot meal, then why put it forward? No need to shell out the extra effort when he’s not going to do his own part.

Especially tonight, as your table sets and vegetables stop cooking, your damn husband still isn’t home.

Whatever. Asshole.

Surely, it’s fine. It seems fine. Hisako inhales the food with extreme excitement, you pick at your own while she recounts the events of her day. Gotta hand it to her, she’s a damn entertaining kid, able to distracted you from the hurt of Atsumu potentially taking your words to heart and indeed, taking care of himself.

She prompts the end of her dinner with an enthusiastic kiss to your cheek- a trait she learned from her father- before toddling into the living room to play with her toys. You smile softly at the sight, bittersweet as you move to start the dishes, trying to get through them as a quick as possible before Atsumu comes home and sees the dinner not made for him.

This is another instance, however, that you’re having the piss taken out of you, and Atsumu comes home in the middle of your chores. You cringe softly as the front door opens, he sighs dramatically, and you head the happiness in his voice when he chirps a quick “where’re my girls!”

You whimper in the back of your throat and plaster a smile, still trying to hide the hurt in your features.

“Hey my love,” Atsumu says, voice strained from sighing happily, before laxing out to kiss you. “Where’s the boss of us?”

You smile and pucker your lips for a brief, almost uninterested kiss, and you watch as his body language tenses. “She’s in the living room playing with her toys. I was going to give her a bath once I finished the dishes.”

“I can do that, dollface,” he chuckles. “If you want to relax, or get started on her bath you can.” He happily hooks his head over your shoulder and nuzzles into you softly. “I gotta eat first anyways, so I can take care of the dishes.”

You tense up as he lifts his head with a happy inhale, “smells great in here. What did you make?”

In confusion, you give him a look over your shoulder. “I… made curry in the pressure cooker, and some rice and fried some eggs for us.” He groans happily and quickly dashes to the fridge to open and search for the extras, only for his face to fall once he turns up empty handed.

“Did… you both polish it off?”

“I only made enough for two, and with your daughter having an appetite like her uncle I almost didn’t have enough-“

“But…”

“What?”

“You… you didn’t cook enough for me?”

You scoff and continue to scrub the plates, “since you clearly had no intentions of updating me on what you’d be doing tonight, I figured I had no use in cooking more than Hisako and I could eat. Leftovers go to waste in this house anyways.”

He pauses, and you hear his socked feet padding around the tiled floors, trying to piece together his thoughts and approach this. You continue to wash the dishes, but the signals in your brain cross as two long arms wrap around your waist, a head burrowing into the curve of your neck.

“‘Tsumu-“

“I meant to text you,” he murmurs, curling up as close to you as he can. “I swear. Tonight, I wanted to come home and eat dinner with you, and watch a movie with ‘Sako, but I guess I just forgot to when Bokuto wanted to practice a little bit more…” one of the arms wrapped around your waist moves up to gently cup your jawline, angling your head to look at the golden eyes curved in distress. “But as soon as I realized I came right home, I didn’t even think of it. Please, don’t be mad at me… it was an accident this time, I swear.”

You sigh and lean over to nudge your nose with his, “I’m not mad at you, baby. You just… you hurt my feelings last night; you can’t tell me you don’t appreciate the work I do, then come home and pout about the work I didn’t do. That’s rude, it’s shitty of you.”

“I know,” he says softly, lowering his eyes. In thought for a moment, he then rises his gaze back up to you with a hopeful smile, “can I have a kiss at least?”

You snicker and roll your eyes, “you may have one kiss, and if you play your cards right, I’ll doctor up some instant noodles for you.”

He beams happily up at you and leans up to steal a kiss, the hand on your cheek stroking the warm skin lovingly, “I like the sound of that.”

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part eight

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

hope is a dangerous thing.

a/n: it’s heeeeeeeeere. full disclosure - it might be a few days until part 9 goes up; as far as I know, tonight’s ep shows some flashbacks which means I might have to do a bit of revamping! plus I really don’t wanna burn myself out with this one, there’s still so much ground to cover!!

word count: 4.5k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, canon-typical violence and injuries, death, blood, yearning, nightmares, mentions/allusions to sex, if I missed something let me know.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters!✨

The days bleed into months, and before you know it, the snow comes. Winter.

You haven’t left the mall. Or, haven’t been allowed to leave the mall. Every time you cross paths with Cowan, it’s the same conversation.

“Let me through the gate.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You’re nothing if not persistent, but you try your best to make yourself useful. You and Deanna have formed some kind of friendship, and you help her out as much as you can. At first, you don’t know much about treating injuries besides the bit you remember from an old first aid course, so you pay close attention to her movements, handing her supplies when she needs it, taking her orders in stride.

She was an army nurse, you learn, and lost her husband long before the outbreak. “Just as well,” she told you, a sad smile on her face. “He barely came back to me after Vietnam. I don’t think he could have survived this.”

They never had kids, but she tells you her niece and nephew may as well have been her own. “They live in Cape Cod, on the coast.” Her face went dark. “Lived.” Then she looked at you. “You remind me of my niece, you know. Fierce little thing.”

She teaches you how to dress wounds and clean them, when something needs stitches and when glue will do, how to stretch the materials you have left as far as possible. When injured soldiers show up after the first snow, she puts you to work.

Cowan’s among them, a ricochet bullet in his shoulder. Deanna hasn’t shown you anything like that yet, and you balk a little as he pulls off his gear, blood pouring down his arm. “Wait here.”

You sprint across the floor to where Deanna is literally elbow-deep in another soldier who clearly hadn’t been as lucky as Cowan. “What d’you need, kid?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, spying a pair of forceps on the table nearby and grabbing them. “Just these. I’ll come help you after—”

“You go take care of Nicky,” she orders, her voice almost stern. “You don’t leave his side until you know he’s all right, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You sprint back to Cowan, finding him hunched over, hand pressed to his arm, blood staining his knuckles. You grab a pair of scissors from the tray beside you, hooking your arm under his shoulder and getting him upright. “Fuck!” he shouts, and you grit your teeth.

“Sorry.” You cut away his t-shirt, pulling the fabric from where it’s wedged between his fingers, and his other hand curls into a fist on the table. “What happened?”

“Bunch of runners,” he breathes out, and you yank his hand away from the wound quickly, replacing it with a thick scrap of towel, pressing your hand into his shoulder. He winces, tipping his head back. “Came right up over the fence.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I told you that chain link wouldn’t hold forever.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should run the world.” He meets your gaze, holds it. “You ask me to let you through the gate again, and I swear to god—”

“I wasn’t going to,” you say quickly. It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “But I want to help, if I can.”

The towel has already soaked through with his blood, and it makes your gut twist. “Help?”

“Teach me to shoot,” you say. You’re trying to distract him, and grab his hand, pressing it against the towel. “Hold this.”

“Bat’s not enough for you?”

“No, but the rifle I found in the sporting goods shop upstairs will definitely help,” you reply, grabbing the forceps and wiping them down with a bit of antiseptic. “Especially once I get out of here.”

Cowan stares at you, that hard gaze he’s become famous for. “Why d’you wanna get out of here so bad? You’re—”

“If you tell me I’m safe here, Corporal, I’m leaving that bullet in your shoulder.”

He actually laughs. “God, you are something else, you know that?” 

You freeze, for a moment. Suddenly, you’re standing in your kitchen, in Austin. Joel Miller is handing you a bouquet of daisies and telling you you’re beautiful and kissing your cheek. The memory catches you off-guard, and you only come back down to earth when Cowan squeezes your wrist, peering at you.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply instantly, shaking your head. “We need to get that bullet out.”

You hold up the forceps, bracing your hand on his collar. “This isn’t gonna feel great, is it?”

“Well, it sure as hell won’t tickle,” you admit. “Is this the first time you’ve taken a bullet?”

“No. Second.”

“Pull this away, when I say,” you instruct, tapping the back of his hand. “I gotta be quick.”

“Have you done this before?”

You lift a shoulder, a nervous little laugh falling out of your mouth. “I watched Deanna do it a couple weeks back. It was in the guy’s gut though, not his shoulder.”

“Did he live?”

You go quiet. “Move your hand.” He hesitates. “Now, Cowan.”

He moves his hand, pulling the towel away, and you push the forceps in. The air seems to go completely still as you fish for the bullet. Cowan’s face is screwed up in pain, both hands curled around the edge of the cot, white-knuckled. “Did the guy live?”

“No,” you admit finally, feeling the soft clink of metal hitting metal. Bingo. “But we found a bite on his leg after, so the internal bleeding was probably the better way to go.” You twist the forceps, and he hisses in pain. “Tell me about the first time you got shot.”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?” you quip, and he actually smiles.

“It was basic training,” he starts, and you nod, focusing on his shoulder. The forceps pinch around the bullet, and you pull ever so slightly. “My buddy and I were just fucking around. He didn’t know the thing was loaded.”

“He shot you on purpose?” you ask, brows raised. You pull a little more, making sure the grip holds.

“Not on purpose,” Cowan replies, and you can feel his eyes on your face. “We were just kids, then. Just screwing around, trying to fill the time. And now…”

“He still around?” you ask, prompting him further. “Your buddy.”

“I hope so,” he replies. “He moved to California, after we finished basic. I really hope he—motherfucker!”

You pull the bullet all the way out with a flourish, dropping the forceps onto the tray and grabbing a fresh piece of gauze. He hisses again when you press the new gauze to his shoulder, and you scoff. “Baby.”

“You just pulled a bullet out of me.”

“I’m aware,” you throw back, pressing a little harder. “I still think you’re a baby.”

He gives you the signature Stare before glancing down at his shoulder, taking over the pressure you’re holding, and you step away to get an actual roll of gauze. “Meet me at the south entrance tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.” You turn back, your brows raised. “To shoot, I mean. Bring the rifle. You have ammo?”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Yeah, managed to find a few boxes.”

“Good.”

You nod, unable to hide the grin that pulls your lips. “Good.”

+

They’re somewhere near Nashville. He thinks; Tommy’s been navigating, Joel’s just been following his brother. The weather has held up mostly, but now they’re holed up in some shack Tommy found in the woods, hiding from the rain. It’s been constant, nearly three days now, and Joel can’t fucking sleep.

He hasn’t slept well since they left Austin, not that he expected to. The few beds they’ve found have been heaven, but every time he closes his eyes, the dreams come, and he’s reliving that night all over again. Doesn’t matter how many days go by, and he knows it doesn’t matter at all how much time passes. He’s never gonna forget.

He took first watch, told Tommy to get some shuteye and parked himself on the front porch, watching the rain slide of the metal roof, pooling in front of the shack, running downhill like a river. There’s mud caked on his boots, and he feels dirty down to his bones. It’s been a few days since they had real shelter, though, and he revels in the silence, being away from the main roads.

But the silence lets his mind wander, and when that happens, it lands on you, more often than not. Sarah is always there, in the back of his head, the sound of her voice forcing him further, but when he gets a moment alone — a rarity now — he lets himself remember you.

Your last conversation still haunts him. The fear in your voice, the way you’d sounded so out of it when you first picked up, and he’d brought you back down, focused you. Patch yourself up. Take what you can and go. Get the hell out of Boston.

I’ll find you, baby.

Sometimes, the hope invades his heart like a disease, branching through his limbs and making his chest ache with it. He has to hope that you made it out, that you’re alive somewhere, that your paths are leading straight towards each other. Every time they come over a hill or turn a corner, he feels that tug in his gut, a quiet promise that this time, you’ll be heading straight towards him, a big smile on your face.

But Joel knows that hope is a dangerous thing to let in, to nurture. As hard as he wishes you alive, he knows the opposite is more than likely. He sees it when he does manage to get some sleep, nightmares infiltrating his brain until he wakes up panting, the phantom feeling of his daughter’s blood on his skin melting away far too slowly.

Right now, he’s forcing himself to remember the good.

That last week, before you’d left for Boston. He took you to that open field every night, almost, held you in his arms, kept you close and never let your mouth get too far from his. He’d buried his face in your neck and memorized the smell of you, the feel of you, the taste.

You pulled on his hand, led him away from the truck and into the open field. You laid down in the grass side by side, the sound of crickets and the soft wind the only thing you could hear. He’d leaned over you, cupped your cheek in his palm, rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. You kissed his fingers, giggling when he rolled himself on top of you a moment later, his mouth chasing yours.

He planted his hands either side of your head and you reached for his belt, dragging your hands down his chest. He could feel your heartbeat, when he pressed himself against you, the twitch of your knees along his ribs as you held him closer. That’s how it always was between you two, who could get the other closer, how much could you pull until the space between no longer existed?

Joel still remembers the noise you made when he pushed into you, right there in the grass. The way you’d dug your nails into his back so fucking hard it made him moan louder, the sound echoing through the night. The blissful smile on your face as the pleasure ripped through you, and Joel felt it, the tightness of your body, the way he could taste it on your tongue.

God, he loved you so goddamned much.

A clap of thunder yanks him out of his head, and he flinches hard, the gun in his lap sliding onto the wooden porch. He’s on his feet in a moment, shoving both hands through his hair, and without another thought, he steps out from under the shelter of the roof. The rain pelts him instantly, soaking through his clothes, making goosebumps rise on his arms.

It feels good. He tilts his face towards the sky, feels the water drip down his arms.

He hears your voice, in his head. What you said that night, under the stars, laid out on his chest, your eyes glassy. “I won’t ever stop thinking about you, Joel Miller. Not for a million years.”

He never should have let you leave Austin. Not in a million years.

+

Cowan stays true to his word. He teaches you to shoot, not just the rifle you’d stolen from the mall, but other guns, too. Shows you some tricks with the hunting knife you’d found in Dean’s bag, even teaches you how to build a fire. You stop asking him to let you through the gate, and he stops giving you the Stare. After a few lessons, he starts bringing you along on patrols. You carry the rifle and the bat, the hunting knife strapped to your thigh. The temperature is dropping, the snow sticking consistently, and the UPS jacket you’d stolen months back comes in handy, keeping you warmer than you expect.

There’s not much conversation to be had between you two, and when you do talk, it’s light shit. You avoid the subject of families, partners and the like. You mostly talk about music, and you laugh the hardest you have in a long time when Cowan admits to you that he’s seen the Backstreet Boys in concert three separate times. You’re bent in half with laughter, tears in your eyes, and he starts laughing along with you.

The laughter stops, however, when you circle back to the mall. There are four trucks outside, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up when you see Deanna step through the doors. Everyone else who’d been inside, faces you recognize, people you’ve met, they’re all coming out of the mall. Deanna has blood on her scrubs, a strange look in her eye.

“McCoy!” Cowan calls once you’re close enough, and a soldier turns. “What’s going on?”

Both the soldiers step to the side, and you make a bee-line for Deanna, swinging your rifle onto your back. “What happened?”

The older woman looks shaken, and she grabs you once you’re close enough, her hands digging into the sleeves of your coat. “T-Tim,” she stutters, and your brow hardens. You know who she’s talking about;  Tim, his wife Marcy, their two kids. Their cots weren’t far from yours in the department store. You’d helped their youngest son, Henry, when he’d cracked his forehead on the tile, tripped on his own feet chasing his little sister, Emily, around the mall. Hell, you’d had dinner with them just the night prior, you and Tim had made the kids giggle slurping your noodles. “He just…” Deanna trails off, and fear twists your stomach in an iron vice.

“Are the kids okay?”

She nods furiously, still holding onto you tightly. “But…but Marcy, she…he just…” She looks back towards the mall, gestures for a moment before clapping her hand over her mouth. “I’d never seen one up close before.”

Deanna collapses into your arms, and you hug her tightly, half worried she’s passed out, but the worry passes when you feel her hands fist in the back of your jacket. Over her shoulder, you see a soldier leading Henry and Emily outside. Henry still has a bandaid on his forehead, and Emily is clutching his hand, tear tracks on her face. Your heart aches.

“I’m gonna go with them,” Deanna tells you, pulling away after a moment, and you just nod. She jogs after the kids, and you turn back to where Cowan and McCoy are still talking. Cowan has a hard look on his face, and his jaw tightens as you approach.

“What the hell is going on?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re supposed to be safe in the mall, Corporal. That’s what you said. I could have been halfway to Texas by now. Hell, I could have been in Texas by now.”

“I know what I said,” he bites back before heaving a sigh. “We got an update, from FEDRA HQ.”

You lift a brow. “And?”

He glances at the stream of people still filing out of the mall. “The fungus, the thing that’s causing this, it’s in the food. We need to check everything that was in the mall, everything that was handed out. Production dates, expiry dates, it’ll give us an idea of what needs to be destroyed, but—”

“But there’s a chance everyone in there ate something contaminated,” you finish, swallowing back the bile that rises in your mouth. “There’s a chance we’re all already infected.”

Cowan’s throat bobs. “Yes.”

“What do we do now, then?” you ask, jutting your chin towards the people filling the street outside the mall. “Where do we go? Standing around here like this, it’s just gonna attract them.”

“There are buildings that have been deemed safe,” McCoy tells you, and Cowan just nods. “The quarantine zone has been marked off. We take everyone there, separate you for now, keep an eye out for anyone changing.”

Cowan nods. “Check everyone for bites, again.” He meets your eyes for a moment before calling for two other soldiers. He starts barking orders, and you turn to McCoy.

“I thought the city was the quarantine zone.”

He shakes his head. “Too much space. FEDRA gave us the borders, showed us where to go. The walls’ll go up soon, and we’ll be that much safer.”

You balk. “More chain link bullshit?”

McCoy shakes his head again. “No, ma’am. Bricks. Guard towers, barbed wire. The whole kit and caboodle.”

You swallow hard. Shit.

+

The chain link stays up. The walls of the quarantine zone press deeper into the city, and as promised, you’re shuffled into apartment buildings. There’s still blood everywhere you look, damaged ceilings, broken windows. It’s not perfect by any stretch, but the building itself is intact, and that’s apparently good enough for FEDRA.

They put you in separate units, the number of survivors taking up less than half the building. You stay with Deanna and the kids. Emily clings to your side, her arms wrapped around your leg more often than not. She hasn’t said a word since you left the mall.

The soldiers patrol the streets and the hallways, and after a week, six more people turn. They’re put down without a second thought, their bodies carried out of the building. The food supplies are carted from the mall to a warehouse within the new zone limits, and everything that was given to you is taken back for inspection. It’s a lot of waiting, of pacing the floor of your new home, of trying to come up with ways to distract the kids from what’s happening.

Shortly after you’d been evacuated from the mall, they’d brought out Tim and Marcy’s bodies, and your hands had started to shake violently when you saw the blood on Tim’s face, the deep gouge in his wife’s throat. Bullets in both their skulls. It had all happened so fast.

And you’d been eating the same things they had.

The worry gnaws at your stomach. You’d protested, at first, when Deanna insisted you come with them. You couldn’t explain it, couldn’t bear to see the pain on the older woman’s face deepen when you admitted you feared the worst. She still managed to pull it out of you, later that night, after you’d put the kids to sleep in the only bedroom, the pair of you sitting at the kitchen table.

“If it happens, it happens, kid,” she said, gripping your hand tightly. “And we deal with it. That’s all we can do.” You’d nodded, and she’d reached into her bad, producing a bottle of gin. “Something to take the edge off.” You nodded again.

A week passed, the six were put down, and you were safe. Your mind started to wander. Trucks filled with construction material arrived at the edges of the quarantine zone every day; you could see them from the apartment. More FEDRA soldiers, some venturing into the city to find usable materials. Soon enough, the wall was starting to take shape.

And if the wall went all the way up, that meant you were never getting out of Boston. Never getting the opportunity to find your family, or Joel.

But, the wall has only just begun, which means there are still holes in the boundary, and with more soldiers assigned to the quarantine zone itself, that means the chain link is left unguarded, for the most part.

They announce curfew hours and the consequences for breaking those hours, and you start planning. Collecting things, weapons and food that won’t spoil, refilling your first aid kit. You take what ammo you can find, nicking a few boxes from the FEDRA tents when no one’s paying attention. You still have the maps from the bookstore, your hastily-drawn path still marked on the pages.

You wait for nightfall, and you run.

You leave Deanna a note, tell her you’re sorry, tell her you’ll try to send a message that you’re safe, once you are. The kids are fast asleep, and you kiss their heads before you go.

Your path through the city leads you right past your apartment, and your heart nearly stops. The entire front of the building has been exploded inward, no doubt a result of the bombings. If you look hard, you can see the edge of your living room, behind the twisted rebar and broken bricks. You want to linger, but you don’t, the shout of an Infected pushing you forward, gripping the bat tightly.

The construction of the wall left a lot of tools laying around, and it was all too easy to find a pair of large wire cutters. You found a piece of chain link in an alley within the quarantine zone, and tested it out. Sure enough, a clean cut.

There are still patrols along the chain link, but they’re more sporadic. The guard posts have been dismantled, dragged further inwards, set up again along the new walls. You see a soldier pass by the spot you’re aiming for, and wait until he’s completely out of sight before bolting across the pavement to the fence, pulling out the wire cutters.

You have one foot through when you hear a familiar voice.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Cowan’s kept his distance, since you moved into the building. It bothers you and doesn’t at the same time. But in a way, you got what you wanted from him; you’re more confident that you could make it beyond the fence now. Especially with the rifle strapped to your back.

Your head drops, and you pull your leg back out, straightening and turning on your heel towards him. “You really thought I wouldn’t try it?”

“I really didn’t think you were this stupid,” he shoots back, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. You will die out there, why don’t you get that?”

You grip the chain link, the metal rattling beneath your shaking fingers. “I can’t just sit around here for the rest of my life, Cowan.”

“So you’d rather waste it, out there?” He gestures towards the fence with his rifle, to what lays beyond. “What good will that do? You’re smart, you know there’s a good chance your family is dead.”

“But until I know—” you start, and your voice betrays you, cracking on the word. You swallow hard. “Why can’t you just let me go? What difference does it make?”

His strange dark eyes narrow at you. They’re blue, you’ve come to learn, but a dark shade that sometimes looks black. “Come with me. There’s something I want you to see.” You open your mouth to protest, and he lifts a hand. “Come with me first; if you still want to leave afterward, then I’ll take you through myself.”

You stare at him for a long moment before slinging your bag from your shoulders, pulling out a length of rope. You thread it through the split fence, yanking the metal back into place and tying it off. Once you’re done, you get back to your feet, and when Cowan turns to leave, you follow.

He takes you back to the quarantine zone. A few soldiers shoot you looks, since you’re out past curfew, but Cowan waves them all off. “She’s with me.”

You keep following him, heart hammering in your throat as he leads you into one of the buildings they’ve cleared out. Down a long hallway, a few more soldiers giving you looks, before Cowan ducks through a doorway, waving at you to follow.

“What is this?”

There are tables everywhere, cords spilling out of boxes, hooked along the walls. On the walls, all sorts of maps and notices, FEDRA orders staring back at you. A soldier sits in the middle of it all, headphones hooked over her ears, twisting the knobs on a gigantic radio, adjusting the antenna. When she sees you and Cowan standing there, she pulls off the headphones, a grin on her face. “Hey, Nick.”

“Melissa,” he nods, and juts his thumb towards you. “Can you set it for the Austin base? And give us a sec?”

She just nods, her face falling slightly, and twists more of the knobs. Her brow furrows a bit until she gets the right frequency, and then she gets up out of her chair, holds the headphones towards you. “Hit the red button to talk, and let go once you’re done, or else they can’t talk back.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the headset from her. You look at Cowan. “What is…?”

“It’ll connect you with the FEDRA base in Austin. You can give them the names, of the people you’re looking for. They’ll be able to tell you if they’re in the shelters there. If they’re not there, there’s no telling if they’re alive or dead, but at least you’ll know if they’re safe or not.”

Your brow furrows. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“I can’t reassure you,” Cowan says bluntly, and as you sink into the chair, he perches on the desk beside you. “No one can. The world is a fucking minefield, and while yes, I’ll admit you’re a good shot and you clearly know what you’re doing with that bat, you will die out there. If your family isn’t still in Austin, I can almost guarantee you, they are dead.”

You rip your eyes from his face, turning your gaze to the radio, the little flashing lights and the knobs. “You don’t know that.”

There’s a hand under your chin a second later, and Cowan turns your face towards him again, drags your eyes back to his. “I meant what I said. If you still want to leave, I will take you through the gate myself, no more bullshit. But talk to the base first. Find out if they’re still there before you throw your life away on hope.”

PREV | NEXT

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .7

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Angst, Discussions of child abandonment, Discussions of child neglect; Family dynamics; Mention of abortion; Jealousy; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: There are much happier times ahead after this, I promise. I hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

.7

Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life. 

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

As the turn of the season marches its way into the city, the leaves bloom the crisp, bright colors of autumn. Austin comes alive with the burning colors of fall: reds and oranges and yellows, so beautiful. It makes you feel nothing. You usually love the change of the weather into the colder months, but this year it all feels – meaningless. Empty – like you. 

And yet, life continues, work continues, and at the end of October you and your fellow art teacher plan a field trip to one of the city's parks for the children to paint the colors of the changing leaves. It should be something to look forward to, despite the stress of having to organize a group of twenty first graders and wrangle them in a large, open space, you usually look forward to things like this. You love your job, it’s always made you happy, but somewhere along with the part of you that he’d stolen away, you’d slowly gone by losing other smaller parts of yourself, discarding them in the wake of your grief. Your ability to smile, to enjoy the things that had always previously made you happy, all gone away with him. All you can focus on now is how much you miss him. How much you hate all the decisions you’ve ever made, and how much you resent your history, your parents, for leaving you this broken, wanting thing that could not seem to find happiness – that would not let yourself be happy. No matter how hard you try.

But above the wailing cacophony of your grief, your longing for him ringing in your ears, there is the overwhelming resounding cry of your past screaming at you: you can’t let this go, you can’t let this go, you can’t let us go. Your parents, their history, the tragedy of their demise, the painful solitude of your childhood, the sight of your father wasting away for years and years and you, a child, unable to do anything, unable to help him, to save him, to bring her back so that he could be okay. 

But you also can’t let him go. It was, you now knew, an impossibility. As futile as forgetting your own name, how to breathe, how to be alive. Holding on to him now is an intrinsic part of you that you’re sure you’ll live with for the rest of your life. 

And so, the real question now is, what are you more willing to hold on to? But no, that isn’t right either, the better question is: what do you have to hold on to? What do you need to survive? What can you not live without? What would leave you only half a person if you were to let it go – the past or him?

You’re sure you know the answer, but are only too afraid to admit that all you’d put the two of you through throughout all this, had been pointless. So pointless and so needlessly painful. 

All you want now is to talk to him. No, you don’t even have to talk. If you could just get the chance to see him, even if from a distance, it would make everything better. You just want to see that he’s okay, that he’s not as miserable as you are. That he hasn’t been left as desolate as you seem to have ended up. 

The day is gorgeous, despite your mood, and the class has been good so far, calm and cooperative. The kids all sitting across picnic blankets you’d spread out on the grass amongst the fallen leaves. They’re all chattering and painting, engrossed in their task, when you hear your name being shouted from across the park in a high pitched little voice, and like a fucking revelation from above or your worst nightmare, your deepest desire come alive from the bottom of your heart – there they are. Sarah, running at full speed towards you from the far side of the park. Joel stalking a few paces behind her – his face like stone. You start to move towards them in a daze. 

You take in the sight of him from afar – massive, so tall, and so beautiful. His hair is longer, his dark curls brushing the back of his collar and curling along his temples. Weeks since you’d last seen him, since he’d last touched you, since that horrible moment in that restaurant bathroom. Your cunt clenches, empty and desperate, around nothing, just at the sight of him. He has on a dark green flannel that brings out the warmth in his eyes, you can see it, even from all the way over here. He looks so big, so strong, and you have a sudden, savage vision of him forcing you to the ground right here, in the middle of the park, and taking you for himself, forcing your legs open and ravishing you. Your head goes slightly woozy, dizzy, at the intensity of it, and you stumble, holding your hand out towards Sarah. You can see his eyes tracking your movements, your unsteadiness. His cheeks are bright red, flushed with the crisp autumn air, or perhaps, with anger. 

She squeals your name as she runs towards you, throwing herself into your legs, wrapping her arms around you when she slams into you. Your breath whooshes out of you at the impact, and you’re forced to take a step back as her body rocks into yours. Careful, Sarah. Be gentle, he calls.

 “Sarah,” you gasp, “Hi, baby. How are you?”

“I missed you,” she says, and her face is so sincere, so full of genuine happiness at seeing you, despite the fact that she’d only met you a couple times, that it brings tears to your eyes now, but you aren’t sure what kind of tears they are. Perhaps, from the pain of seeing your past self reflected in her fervor. The devastation of being confronted with him again. The most sublime elation because look at this little girl and how special and wonderful she is, and she’s happy to see you. She’s so in need of the attention and comfort of a maternal figure, and she reminds you very, very much of yourself at her age. It breaks your heart to feel her innocent desperation. You cannot even consider looking up at her father, you know that if you do, you’ll break down entirely, sobbing at his feet, begging him to forgive you, to love you back as much as you love him. “We– we should go play in the water again. I liked it so much when we did that. I had so much fun.” There’s such earnest pleading in her voice, but it gets just the tiniest bit smaller and quieter when she says the last part, as if she’s unsure if you’ll feel the same, if you’ll reciprocate her feelings. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out through your mouth as you hug her closer to you.

When you open your eyes again and look down at her upturned face your voice is slightly steadier, “We can go whenever you want, sweet pea. I had so much fun, too,” but you lose the battle at the end, voice cracking slightly. You can feel his hovering presence at your periphery like a blazing inferno, demanding attention, and you finally look up at him.  He has a slightly unhinged look in his eyes, taking you in from head to toe, gaze manically roving your form, like a man starved, parched – desperate and ravenous. 

“I had to go to the doctor,” Sarah says. “Look,” she shows you a bandaid on her little bicep, “I got a Sailor Moon sticky, but it hurt really bad.”  She pouts and you rub her hair, cooing at the small hurt. 

You look back up at him then, “Joel,” you croak. He doesn’t say anything, and you can see a slight tremble in the lines of his arms. He turns his face away from you, looking across the park, and you watch the ripple of muscles in his throat as he swallows several times, the flare of his nostrils as he takes his own set of deep, calming breaths. “Please, say something,” you beg. 

You hate the look in his eyes, you hate it, you hate that you’re the reason he looks like this right now. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves your love. He deserves to be loved. He’d told you once that you weren’t some secret to be kept, hidden, that you deserved to be cherished out in the open, you realize, in this instant, that he deserves the same, and that what you’re doing to him is wrong. But how to stop it? How to change the most integral part of your mind, of your belief system, and that which it all hinges on, your past, your history? An impossible feat. 

“What are you doing here?” he finally says. His voice is rough and deep, and the mere sound of it makes everything deep in your tummy clench painfully. 

You’re still hugging Sarah to yourself, and she tightens her arms around you, looking up between the two of you as if she can tell that something isn’t right. “Field trip.” You hook your thumb back towards where your kids are still being watched over by the other chaperones. 

He finally turns back to look at you, and the fire in his eyes is terrible for all the desperation and pain you recognize in it. “It’s been weeks,” he whispers.

“I know.” You rub Sarah’s shoulders gently, feel her nuzzle into your thighs. 

“I went to look for you at the school.”

“I know.” Your voice sounds almost like a cry. Despite everything, despite telling you that this was hurting him, he’d still come to look for you again. He hadn’t given up on you, no matter how many times you’d pushed him away.

“I knew you’d seen me,” and he looks so hurt as he says it, that it sends a spear of fire through your chest. You can tell he’s holding on to his control by tenterhooks, trying his best not to let his anger out and scare you or Sarah. An irrational part of you wishes he’d lose control, throw you over his shoulder and force you to go with him. 

“Daddy?” Sarah’s little voice.

“Are we just never going to speak again? Is this the way you want it to stay?”

“No,” you croak, “I don’t– I don’t know,” a violent shake of your head, “I mean– yes, of course we are. I just can’t do this right now.” Your kids are waiting for you. You’re supposed to be working right now, not watching the rest of your future crumble brick by brick before your eyes, the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted for yourself angry beyond words at you. He scoffs, runs a shaking palm over his mouth and beard. 

You hear the other teacher call your name from behind, and as he comes up next to you, he puts a hand on your shoulder, perhaps sensing the tension or a fight brewing. “Everything alright over here?” he asks you gently, not sparing a glance at Joel. 

The entire right side of Joel’s face spasms furiously. “We’re in the middle of a fucking conversation here,” he spits, taking an aggressive step forward, eyes zeroed in on the hand touching you. You shrug it off immediately.

“Joel–” you warn, at the same time that Sarah’s high, anxious voice cries, “Daddy, why are you mad?” Her voice seems to snap him out of it, he looks down to her, his eyes going slightly wider for a second before he squeezes them shut and shakes his head once, quick. 

“I’m not, baby. I’m sorry–”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you murmur to your coworker. “Can you give us a minute? I’ll be right there.”

As he retreats, you say again, “I can’t do this now, Joel. But maybe–”

He shakes his head, ignoring you, crouching down to Sarah’s level. “Let’s go home, baby.” He places a gentle palm on her slight back. You can see the tremble of his hand, and it makes a sharp pain start up behind your left eyeball. 

“No, I don’t want to go with you!” she says muffled into your thighs.

“Sarah, baby, please. We need to go home,” he begs her. 

“Joel–” He continues to ignore you. 

“I don’t want to go yet,” she looks up at you, her little face pleading, “I want to stay with you, please.” Her eyes are starting to fill with tears. “Don’t you want me to stay with you? You said you had fun with me.” The tears start to fall, your own pool in your eyes.

“Sarah, it’s okay, baby. We’ll play another time,” there’s a begging lilt in your voice too. What are you doing? This is all your fault, you’re hurting the both of them. 

Joel stands to his full height now, finally meeting your eyes again, and his voice is hard and angry, patience come to an end as he says, “Sarah, it’s time to go. Say goodbye. I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“No! I don’t want to go with you! You’re being mean!” She turns her tear streaked face to him now, pulling on your clothes as if trying to scramble up your body. “Please, Daddy, please, I want to stay here.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, “Sarah, please.”

“Why do I never get to play with girls? Where’s mommy? Why hasn’t she come back? I’m tired of just being with you, Daddy!”

He flinches at that. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you’d have missed it. If you hadn’t memorized his face so well, you wouldn’t have seen the muscle under his left eye twitch. He freezes as she starts to sob loudly, and you’re at a loss, writhing in agony for the both of them. 

He crouches down again at the sound of her very real and anguished sobs, and his voice is gentle and coaxing again, when he says, “Let’s go home, baby girl. It’s alright, come on. I’ll get you an ice cream. How does that sound? With the rainbow sprinkles we like, okay?” He pries her off you gently, not turning to look at your face again, taking extra care to not touch you even a little bit, but you feel the heat of his hand against your thigh as he grabs her, and it has a jagged shock moving through you. You desperately wish he’d take you with him too.

He wraps her in his arms and picks her up, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hear her sniffle as she hides her face in his neck, a safe place. You wish you could hide from the world there too. 

“I know, baby.” He rubs soothing strokes along her back as she wraps her little arms around him to clutch at his hair. 

“When’s mommy coming back?” she mumbles as they walk away. He does not turn back to you. 

-

The encounter in the park makes everything worse. Much, much worse. Like your heart had been ripped clean out of your chest that day and had gone off with Sarah and Joel, leaving you behind to float in the rotten pool of your misery. 

“I heard a strange rumor recently.” Your mother’s voice, soft but discerning, comes through the phone – first call in six months. It makes dread coil in your belly. Nothing good ever follows that tone. 

“Oh? What’s that?” She doesn’t call often, but when she does, it’s usually to ask for something, you’d already promised to send her a few hundred dollars, or to share news of a new boyfriend or trip or something equally self involved.

“You remember my friend Betty? From when you were growing up – she lived down the street from us. Well, she’s in Austin now too, has been for some time–” Fuck, “And you wouldn’t believe, but her daughter’s a doctor now, there in Austin too, very impressive.” She’d always hated that you’d become an art teacher – not glamorous enough for her. “Maybe you remember her, too? Little blonde thing, very cute… and well, she said she was at a birthday party recently,” No, no, no, no, please, no. “And she said she’s almost sure she saw you looking pretty cozy with some man, who she has on good authority, is married.” There is a sharp and cruel vein of satisfied glee in her voice, “And you know, I really couldn’t believe it when she said so, and I told Betty, ‘My daughter? She’d never get herself involved with a married man.’ I mean, you’ve always cast me as the worst sort of woman for leaving my own unhappy marriage for another man. So, how could it be that my saintly little girl has now fallen into my own footsteps? I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” You’re shocked speechless. Of course, of course, she’s found some way to hear about this. She’s always had a way of finding out everything about you, as long as you’d go without speaking or seeing each other, she always finds a way of sniffing out the things in your life you want to keep hidden from her, as much as she claims she doesn’t care what you do or what becomes of you. “Nothing to say?” she croons.

“It–” your throat is tight, filled with tears already, confessing this to her will break you in a way you don’t think you’ll be able to recover from. “It’s not like that – it’s not like… you,” I’m not like you, I’m not, I’m not. “It wasn’t something– something done purposely,” you whisper. “It just happened.”

She laughs at that, long and loud, “Yes, well… it usually does happen like that. Unintentional. One doesn’t often set out to ruin a life, do they? Sometimes it just happens, I suppose, no? What do you think?”

“I haven’t – I haven’t ruined a life,” you blink furiously, shaking your head even though she can’t see you.

“Oh, no? You’ve always taken yourself to be so high and mighty – always so holier than thou, and now? What? You’ve ended up just like me. Brought low, down to my level, after you’ve always judged me so harshly. How does it feel? To have ended up just like me? Scum like mommy.”

“I didn’t ask to be this…” you cry, “This– this hideous thing I’ve turned myself into–” like a creature of cracked skin and painful faultlines, “But this is what you made me, this is all you left me with, an inability to escape you, an inability to have a normal relationship.” You know she can hear the tears in your voice, and that she’ll be all the worse for it, crueler for subjecting her to your weakness, but you can’t help it. She hates it when you cry, your tears have always reminded her of her own weaknesses.

“Baby girl, that’s just what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better. And sure, if it helps… if it works, go on. You tell yourself that. But you’ve made your own choices. I can’t be held at fault for what you do with your life.”

“I’ve never seen anything else but the wrong kind of love. A– a  painful kind of love–” you think of your past words to Joel – his worry that he and Eva had only ever given Sarah the wrong example of what it is to love, and your reassurance that the love he gave her was all that mattered. You’d never had that, you’d never had that sort of steady, reassuring presence that he was able to provide his daughter, and so how could you have turned out any way other than gnarled and wrong? And yet something in you rebelled at that thought, for you felt, deep inside, that despite the circumstance, the way you felt about Joel was anything but wrong. If anything, it was the only thing in your life that made sense, the only thing that was truly right. “How could I have turned out any other way…?”

She’s quiet for a moment after that, and when she speaks again, the venom in her voice is gone, and the mother you hold so sacredly in your memory, the one she only lets you see on occasion, makes a rare appearance. Her voice gentled now, she says: “I know… I know it wasn’t always right, that I wasn’t always right,” she huffs a breath of laughter and it sounds… almost sad, “But I did love you.” Did love – the past tense spears you through the heart and silent tears drip down your chin, “I’m sorry that I’ve made you believe otherwise, but I did.” And you know, part of you recognizes the truth in her words, despite the pain they bring, you know that she had loved you, she’d just never known how to show you – it was always the wrong way, the wrong kind of love, but it was love. The love of a mother who’d never really wanted to be a mother. 

“I know,” you tell her quietly. 

You were always fighting with her in your sleep. Unable to let the wound close. But you were so tired, you needed to let it go, you now thought. You needed to move on, couldn’t let it rule your life and your relationships anymore. 

You can’t help but think that a broken home is such a funny and strange thing that spits out equally funny and strange people. At once, fractured, disjointed, painful, but at the same time, still a family, still desperate for all those things that make a family, a family. Despite not really knowing what that truly means. Still held together by that obligation of blood, love, need, childhood. Something inescapable, and even yet, in many ways, unbreakable. For you can never truly break a thing like that. It would always live with you, in some manner. You would never be able to forget it, and even if you cast it away, left it behind, forgave, memory was not a thing so easily let go of. It would stay with you regardless of what you did or who you became. Keep its claws in you. But you didn’t think you had to let it rule you anymore, subjugate you. You could forgive your parents for their faults and their let downs, for being human, for being bad parents. If you could not forget, then you could forgive, let go, move on, stop letting their memory dictate you.

She was never a good mother, but she was still your mother, and you’d always known that despite everything, you’d always loved her anyways. You always would. 

You wonder what it was about some women who were able to find such comfort, purpose, stability in motherhood, as opposed to others who saw it only as a prison, a grave. Was it paradox, nature, nurture, personality, fate? Nothing meaningful at all, no reason, it just was? You wished there was a set equation that could tell you what you would be, who you would be, what kind of mother you would turn into, were you to become one. 

And then, in opposition – the plane of fatherhood and all it entailed. What was it that made a man a good and caring father, as opposed to one who drank themselves to death, and left their already very alone child, even more alone? What was it to have a good mother and a bad father or vice versa? To have both of the same? What were the implications, and what sort of creature would it turn you into once their influence had been wrought upon you?

What were the implications of having had bad parents, and then, when the time came for you to become one yourself, wanting desperately to be a good one? How did you do that when you’d had only poor examples? 

How did you escape faithlessness?

You had to wonder, would your father have always become what he had, even if she had never done what she did, if your mother had never left, never been unfaithful? You didn’t think that you could cast all the blame on her anymore. After all, a marriage was a strange and intimate thing, only looked upon in its true form by the two people within it. No one could turn a thing into something it was never meant to be. No one could turn you into someone you didn’t already have within you. This was true for yourself, as well. You supposed, the same could even be said for Joel and Eva. People were what they were. Nature versus nurture, again and again and again. 

You had been so staunchly stuck upon the fact that you couldn’t be the thing to break their marriage apart, when he’d told you, time and time again, that there was already nothing to be broken, that there had never been anything to break in the first place. The marriage, too, had always been what it was. Had you, in your fear and fractured history, tried to make it into something that it had never been for fear of it turning you into that very history you were so frightened of? There were different realities to category, different things held different significance and not everything was the same in perpetuity. 

Categories, labels, titles – husband, wife, lover, mother, father, daughter – was it all useless fodder people ascribed to a thing to be able to bend a person or a feeling to their will? You didn’t think you could tell anymore. The ideas that had always been so securely held in your mind seemed to have all been shifted askew by a man who, in his own right, was beyond category. A title did not make a thing real. But love – that was its own category, of this you were sure. That was a pillar all on its own, its own realm which opened up possibilities and necessities that you were now coming to realize were uncontainable. 

And so, what of you and Joel? Did that count for nothing merely because of a lack of category for what you two had? No. Impossible. Because in many ways, what existed between the two of you was a marrying of your very souls, a melding of them – as if he’d stolen it straight out of your chest. Its own category ascribed to its position in your reality, and thus directing all your actions for the simple fact that you were in love with him, and it could not be swallowed any longer. 

What is it to feel before category? 

Were the labels useless until there was feeling behind them?

All your life labels, titles, promises, promises, promises had never meant a single thing to anyone around you. Not your parents' promises to each other: husband, wife; not their promises to you: mother, father, daughter, family. None of it had ever meant anything, so how could you ever be expected to have faith in the promise of category? 

How did you escape faithlessness? How?

You and Joel loved each other – real. That was its own category, its own faith, in a way. The feeling behind category.

What was it to feel before category? Possibility.

What was it to feel after category? Promise.

There was a real sort of promise in love – no guarantee, surely, for love could be wrong, but intention, for it could also be right. Joel and Sarah and everything he’s done solely for her sake – committing himself to a marriage he’d not wanted, had known would never work. There was a promise in that. A father telling his daughter that he would do anything to give her what a child could need: a family, a home, togetherness, security. He’d sacrifice anything for that. 

You’d always known you recognized something in him, but what was that thing? You’d thought that you couldn’t say, or didn’t want to say, didn’t want to admit it, for too long. Part terror, definitely, part desire, unfortunately –  most horrifying of all, and that which had been your first realization where he was concerned: yourself, kindredness. You saw yourself in him – a great and unbearable knowing. The two of you were the same. And so, it was only then, love. And oh, there it was. Perhaps you could admit it after all. 

For at the end of everything, the simple reality you were now forced to accept was that to know was to love, and you’d known Joel from the first first moment you’d met him, as he’d known you. A thing was what it was, and no matter what category you tried to force it into, it would remain as it had been born as. Recognition was, you thought, what ascribed value, what made the decision in the end. 

-

“You’re cold, Joel. You push people away, hold them at arm's length.” Hours of this interminable back and forth between the two of them. His temples were throbbing. All he wanted to do was fall face first into bed and not resurface until tomorrow morning. But she was getting at something – restless and coiled all day – she was getting ready to make her decision. Eva was leaving.“What woman would ever want to stay for that? You aren’t unlovable… you just won’t let yourself be loved.” He shakes his head at that, not looking at her. Not true, he wants to say. Despite everything, he still thinks there’s a part of you that loves him, you love him, you love him, he knows it. Even if you can’t let yourself be with him, or don’t want to be with him. “And anyways,” she continues, “It was never supposed to be me. I was never supposed to be the one to love you, we both know that. It was never us. We never had a chance. We never loved each other.”

“Did we ever even like each other?” sardonic – and she laughs, high and rueful, at that. 

“You know what your real problem is?” Her voice takes on that especially vicious tone she likes to use sometimes, the one that makes his bones itch inside the confines of his skin. “You’re selfish, Joel. You– you just want me here–”

Now that makes him laugh.“I’ve told you many times… you’ve got no obligation to me, Eva.” He sits heavily on the sofa, elbows braced on his spread knees, staring unseeingly ahead. He thinks that his voice sounds so tired, so unlike the sort of man he wishes he was, a creature he hardly even recognizes anymore. “If you wanna go, then go. I won’t stop you. I won’t hold you back. I won’t resent you for it. I won’t turn our daughter against you afterwards. I’ll respect your decision.”

“That’s not true! You forced my obligation to the two of you when you let me come back. You should’ve never taken me back, you knew it wasn’t what I really wanted. I–”

He shakes his head, “You’re talkin’ nonsense. You can’t cast the blame of your guilt on me because I– I– what? Because I let you come back into our daughter’s life after you abandoned her? That makes no fuckin’ sense, and you know it.” He points a finger down the dark hall towards the room where Sarah sleeps, peaceful and unaware. “You will always have an obligation to that little girl – no matter how far you go or what you do or what you think of me. You will always have an obligation to her. Even if you don’t see it through… even if you leave – it’ll always be there, by virtue of the simple fact that you’re her mother, and no matter how badly you’d like to escape that, you never can.”

“You think I wanted to give up my freedom again? Once I’d gotten it back? But I– I, I felt so – like I was supposed to be here – like it’s what the world expected of me. So here I fucking am – miserable and stuck with you.”

“Evie, darlin’, I’ve never wanted you miserable,” he says softly, reverting back to that nickname he sometimes called her, when they were trying especially hard to get along, when things weren’t, in the rare occasion, so terribly fraught between them. “I told you from the very start of all this, that what happened would be up to you. The decisions were yours to make, and I’d support you in whatever you wanted. I never wanted to force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

“Well, I didn’t want to have a baby with you!”

He clenches his jaw tight. “Then you shouldn’t have.” He is trying very, very hard to keep a controlled grip on his anger.

“So, what, I should’ve gotten an abortion? Is that what you would have preferred? Gotten rid of her?” He feels very close to rage, hearing her talk of Sarah like this, but he forces deep breaths in and out of his lungs. Tries to remain calm and rational. 

“If that’s what you wanted – I told you that if that was what you wanted I’d have supported you.”

She laughs, cruel and broken. “Please, you would’ve fucking hated me.”

“And?” That wipes the jagged smirk off her face. “I wouldn’t have – I would’ve understood, of course I would have – we were fucking strangers, but even if I did hate you – what the fuck does it matter? I didn’t even know you. What would it have mattered?”

She’s silent at that, almost stunned, for it’s the truth. They’d been complete strangers then. In many ways, they still were now, even after the birth of a child together, after three years of marriage. They didn’t really know each other, not in the intimate or tender ways that made up a real marriage. 

“That wasn’t an option for me.”

“I know. And I accepted that.”

“You should’ve never asked me to marry you.”

His eyes flutter shut, frustration surging again. “I felt it was the right thing to do at the time.”

“But now?”

“What do you want? You want to hear that I regret it? That this was the worst mistake of my life? You want me to tell you that I’ll stay with you forever? What do you want to hear? I don’t– I don’t know how to make this better for us anymore.” He is terrified that his most terrible and painful truth is that he would force himself to remain trapped in this purgatory with her, despite everything else, for Sarah. He is the man that he is, after all. One who is acutely aware that when you try to force yourself into a shape you were never meant to be, it turns you into an angry thing – embittered, cruel, despondent. It’s what they had done to each other. 

She goes quiet, almost deflates, “No. I’m miserable. You’re miserable. You’re in love with another woman.”

He can’t say anything at that – the mention of you in this terrible space they’re creating with their words and their anger feels wrong. You don’t belong here. Although, he has the sudden flash of a thought that part of him wishes very much that you were here right now anyways, sitting in that chair in the corner, if only so that he could turn to look at you, find comfort and strength in your warm gaze. All he can do is nod. 

Suddenly, all the fight and venom seems to leak out of her, and she says very quietly, very sadly: “I don’t want to be with you for the rest of my life, trapped here in this place I never should have ended up in, in the first place. I don’t want to be here at all.” 

He nods, “It’s your decision. I won’t condemn or judge you for it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to make any decisions for yourself? 

“I made my decisions. I’m living with them now.”

“You sound like you’re being punished.”

“Maybe in some ways I am.” You don’t want to be with him anyways, what difference does it make?

“Wouldn’t you like to decide to be with her? Because honey, with three of us it’s a sideshow. You think I don’t know how you feel about her? That I haven’t seen the way you look at her? I’ve known since the start, and I’m glad for you.” And he knows that despite all the rest, she is sincere in this. 

“Just three?” he laughs, ignores the rest. “Surely there’s more of us than that.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re funny?”

“You really think there’s anything about this I find funny?” he spits, anger surging up inside of him again, hot and bright. “I suppose it’s laughable. We sure have turned ourselves into one big fuckin’ joke. But I don’t think we’re the ones that should be laughing.”

“No… you’re right… we’ve turned each other into such sad and terrible creatures,” she says then. 

“Maybe. If so, I’m sorry for that. It’s not what I wanted.”

“No– me either. None of this was.” And he knows she means Sarah. She’d never wanted Sarah, but he can’t focus on that now or perhaps, ever. Sometimes it was just easier to not look at a thing, to swallow it and pretend it’d never existed. He closes his eyes and brings a shaking hand up to drag down his face. 

“This is a broken marriage,” she says. 

And he knows it is true. “Yes.”

“No true marriage at all.”

“No.”

“It is no great loss.”

“But it still hurts.” Also the truth. It hurts him for his daughter, for the breaking of a family – even theirs, as elusive or damaged as it was. 

“Only because you hate to fail at anything.” There is so much resentment in her eyes, and he can’t tell whether it’s for him or for herself or for the entire fractured thing. He so wishes that he could have done things differently, that things had happened differently. But then, if things had happened differently, he, perhaps, would not have Sarah now, and she was worth all of this, she had always been worth all of this.

He shakes his head. “Because we have a daughter together.” He feels so interminably sad for the both of them. For all they cannot and have not had. For all Sarah will not have.

“Was it really ever together? She’s yours. She’s always been more yours than she ever was mine. I don’t feel bad or wrong saying that. Some women aren’t meant to be mothers. Some women have children when they aren’t meant to be mothers. This is not a sin. I am not made evil by my lack of maternal instinct. I love her. I do. Despite whatever you may think, I do, I always have. But I was never supposed to have children. I was never supposed to be a mother. It was never in my nature. And anyways, it’s why she has you. She’s never needed me because she’s always had you.”

He looks down the dark hall towards his little girls room. They’d put up those glowing sticky stars on her bedroom ceiling this afternoon and construction paper butterflies they’d cut out together, hanging from fishing line between the stars. When she woke up tomorrow he didn’t think she’d have her mother here anymore, would not have her by her side, probably, for a very long time, if ever. How was he supposed to tell her that? How was he supposed to help her through that? He didn’t know if he had the strength, the intelligence, to navigate such a difficult thing. But he didn’t have a choice either. He’d have to find everything she needed from him somehow, somewhere – he would. 

“Every little girl needs her mom… but she also needs structure in her life, stability – she deserves to have that. You need to make a decision, a real one, for her sake. I won’t have her waiting by the phone, watching out the window for you for years and years.”

“I won’t be coming back this time,” and although he was expecting it, already knew, he still flinches, like a bullet punching through the space in his heart where he holds Sarah. He nods anyway. “I do– please, I do want you to know that I’m sorry. That I wish it was different. Please, tell her that, tell her to forgive me.”

He wonders why it is, that in the equation of crime and absolution, forgiveness is always the faction that is most readily expected – demanded even? Despite the hurt being something so, so terrible. But he promises that he will, anyway. 

Eva’s gone the next morning. 

Two weeks later, he gets divorce papers in the mail, and he tells Sarah that her mother will not be returning this time – cradles her little body in his arms with equal measures of as much gentleness and strength as he can muster while she cries.

Chapter .8

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[leviathanspain]

I would love to read one when you’re Colin’s best friend since childhood you’re family lived right next to the Bridgertons and you’re mothers are good friends and as you and Colin are only one year apart you two became very close really fast one time when you where playing in the big garden when you’re 4 and he 5 he tells you that he will marry you one day. As you grew up you moved to France when you where 15 which broke Colin’s heart being only able too see you once in summer and once in winter when you visit you’re family when you come home when you’re 17 he can’t help but kiss you you tell him that as much as you want it you two can’t do that he tells you that he will marry you so it does no difference if you do it know or wait until you’re actually married you can’t help but smile that he really wants to live up too his promise he gave you all this years ago. When you’re 22 you’re mother thinks that you toyed around long enough traveling the world and it’s now Time for you to get married as a maid makes you ready for the ball she tells you that all man would be happy to be you’re husband you can only scoff everyone tells you that you’re the prettiest diamond this year but no man would be interested in you if they knew you aren’t a virgin anymore but nobody will ever find out and you really only want to marry one man either way. As you arrive at the ball all eyes are on you you simply smile Colin can’t help but rush over to you he hasn’t seen you In years and is so happy to have you back and this time he won’t let you go again. Penelope can’t help but be jealous as she watches you two dance talking with Daphne which unintentionally lets slip that you two had you’re wedding night years ago as she sees Penelope’s face expression she realizes that she said that out loud she isn’t even supposed to know Colin will kill her this could ruin his live long wish to marry you from coming true.❤️

it was always her

colin bridgerton x reader

synopsis: it ends where it all began

a/n: i tried my best! sorry if some of the dialogue seems awkward lmao but i hope you enjoyed!!

5 years

you ran as fast as your chubby legs could take you. colin ran after you, running through your mothers treasured rosebuds and into his family’s garden. he yelled your name and finally you stopped, sitting on the grass, your mother would be mad to see your dress ruined. you fidgeted with the fabric and colin slid into the spot next to you. you two were kids, and looking back it could’ve just been the expectations that made colin say that, but deep down, you wondered if he meant it.

“when we grow up,” colin opened his hand and revealed one of your mothers blooming rosebuds, he tucked it in your hair, albeit messily, and smiled a toothy grin, “im going to marry you.”

you didn’t know what the feeling was back then, but you’ve come to realize that it was the feeling of your heart swelling with love.

15 years

it had been almost ten years since colin’s promise. you were smart as a child, and ended up keeping the wilted rosebud that he had put in your hair, putting it in a box for safekeeping.

as you were preparing to head over to the bridgertons for tea, which was really just spending time with colin as he read to you, your mother had called you down to the drawing room. you were confused, your mother had never used the drawing room for anything. but that made you wonder if this was serious.

you went anyway, and your father was suprisingly there too. he smiled weakly and you sat down.

“darling,” your mother began, looking at your father for encouragement, “your father got a job in france. paris, to be exact. we’re moving next week.” as the words left her mouth you swore you could hear a pin drop. it was like your entire life had flashed before your eyes.

you didn’t react, you just got up, and immediately took off next door. you could hear your parents shouts as you left. the afternoon sun was beating down as you ran across your garden and to the bridgerton house.

you skipped all the formalities as you ran into the family room, and you looked at all the faces of colin’s family. colin was nowhere in sight and you were struggling to hold your own tears in. you struggled to get a deep breath in as you went outside and saw colin going up the steps. he saw your distressed face and immediately he ran up to you.

colin took you to a secluded area in his garden, knowing just the rumors that would be spread if anyone saw him holding you.

you cried for what seemed like hours. hours that colin just sat by your side and let you use his coat as your personal tissue.

finally, you stopped crying and you looked at colin. you explained what had happened and he scoffed, your beauty in this moment was absolute that he hardly listened to what you had said. even as your arms were wrapped around his waist, the blush on your teary face was enough to make him kiss you suddenly.

you kissed him for ages. the faint taste of strawberries on his mouth, and the soft sprinkles of touches of his fingers.

“i promise, that the minute you come back, when it’s time, you will be my wife.” he kissed you once more.

18 years

you had been back in london a handful of times since your family had moved to france. your home next to the bridgertons was still in your family’s name, just had a few caretakers in the rest of the year that you didn’t visit.

you had no real reason to come back to london, if it weren’t for colin bridgerton, of course.

you met with him for tea, and you caught up with him.

he smiled at you, pouring you another cup of tea, his eyes lingered on your lips, and as you reached, his eyes drifted to your breasts. he fought hard to keep himself composed, especially when you flickered your knowing gaze to his, and coyly sipped your tea.

“you’ll be the death of me.” he whispered, knowing his family was behind him. now as you were a grown woman, you couldn’t be unchaperoned with a man, anyone forbid just the thought.

but both you and colin had planned for his sneaking over to your manor later in the night. but for now, you tried to be civil.

“i wanted to tell you that uh..” you paused, setting the tea down. colin had asked about your family and why they didn’t come with you, especially when a girl like you should be preparing for her debut, and your parents were instrumental in that.

“the reason i’m not debuting in this years season is because,” you paused, and you fidgeted again, cheeks blushing red. colin reached over and put a hand on yours to stop you from fidgeting.

“tell me, my love.” he looked at you worriedly and you sighed, “i’m going to study abroad in brazil. and then most likely greece. until i’m twenty, which then my parents said i will debut.” the words left you so suddenly and colin looked at you, expression unreadable.

you gulped, watching colin pull his hand back. he nodded, “brazil? greece?” he knew his older brothers were just a few feet away but he couldn’t help the raise in his tone, “was france not enough for you? not enough that you have to leave me again, and again!”

you flinched slightly and as colin stood up, huffing as he walked away, you felt defeated, especially with the eyes of the elder bridgertons on you.

you hadn’t expected the knock on your bedroom door. in fact, you had totally forgotten about it.

you opened it, and colin stepped into your bedroom, which conveniently was on the first floor.

colin looked at you and held your face in his hands, “i’m so sorry.” he kissed your cheek and you nodded, holding onto his arm.

“i understand. i- it’s not ideal, but you know me..” you tried to give a smile and colin nodded, “you know the minute you finally come back after being,” he laughed, “worldly, im going to show you a whole new world.” he promised.

you kissed him deeply and your hands found the buttons of his coat, “why don’t you show me now?”

colin paused, pulling back, “i- are you sure?”

“are you sure that you’ll make me your wife?” you raised an eyebrow.

he nodded, “of course, my love.”

you pulled the buttons open with a swift move, “then i’m sure.”

it didn’t take long before colin had tore your clothes off, and he had slipped inside of you. the feeling was unmatched. for the first time, since those first teasing kisses and feels, colin could now finally truly, worship your body.

dawn broke when you had finally called it quits. you were exhausted, and colin was mildly snoring. you nudged him, reluctantly you sent him off, afraid the maids would see him on his way out.

he kissed your forehead as you snuggled into your bed, watching him leaves you would explain the mess to the maids later, but for now, you saw colin in your dreams.

20 years

your return to england permanently had been the talk of the ton. your family had moved back to your home next to the bridgertons and you were to finally take up your part as a wife. obviously to colin, your parents even assumed he’d be one of your callers.

presenting yourself to the queen was nerve wracking. even more so when she declared you her diamond of the season, and you suddenly had to step up your game.

when it came time to the first ball of the season, you were nervous. colin hadn’t called on you in the first week and now entering the second, you were beginning to get worried. to think, you actually hadn’t seen him at all.

you had gone over to the bridgertons on the second night of your arrival. they invited you and your family for dinner and there you didn’t see colin. you did chat with daphne and anthony, who both redirected your questions about colin.

was there something someone wasn’t telling you?

your arrival at lady danbury’s ball was highly anticipated. you were the diamond afterall. your dance card was filled not even ten minutes after you arrived. it made you smile, but still no sign of colin. it was difficult to say that you had a clue where he was. in the time you were in france, colin had written only a few times, and because you were so busy with the fast tracked life there, you hardly did too. you wondered if maybe this whole marriage thing was just a heat of the moment thing, and he had got what he wanted.

your suspicions of his whereabouts only grew when you met the colorful penelope featherington at lady danbury’s ball. you hadn’t met on your visits, but seeing her now, she seemed to be eloise’s best friend. you chatted with penelope and she seemed to ask a lot of questions.

“how long have you known the bridgertons?” you glanced slightly at her dance card and saw it was empty. you felt your heart sink for her, especially when she seemed so eager to dance.

“my family has lived next to them for years. it wasn’t until colin and i began spending time together that our families got closer.” you nodded and penelope smiled.

“spending time?” she bit her lip nervously and you nodded again, “i was four and he was five when he shoved me face first into my mamas rosebuds-“

“-and we spent the rest of the afternoon helping her gardener plant new ones.” the voice was like music to your ears. you resisted the urge to hug him right then and there but you turned around and found colin looking at you with eyes that practically left you naked.

you smiled, “only after you picked the thorns, quite literally, out of my side.” you had the brightest smile on your face and colin shared the same. a laugh sparked between the two of you, only broken by penelope.

“colin! you’re back from greece!” she had a look on her face that you knew all too well and you raised an eyebrow as you looked towards colin, “greece?”

colin looked at penelope and back at you, “will you excuse us, pen?”

colin looked at daphne and gave her a nod to follow the two of you outside. couldn’t be unchaperoned, like always.

“pen?” your voice finally broke as the three of you went outside. it was quiet, and no people were outside, so you let it all out.

colin began to speak but you raised a hand, “no. you listen to me, mr. bridgerton-“ your tone was surprising to colin who merely nodded and let you speak your piece.

“i’ve been back in town for nearly two weeks and there’s been no sight of you. your family has dodged my questions on your whereabouts,” you glanced at daphne who smiled sheepishly. she knew everything about your relationship with colin. you trusted her, even with the information that you had slept together. “and you come back here thinking all will be well when you cut into my cute story, which did work for a moment but that girl,” you huffed, face getting red, “she has the biggest crush on you, if you haven’t noticed, and you start out by calling her ‘pen’?! don’t you dare give other girls cute nicknames besides me, colin bridgerton!” you tried to compose yourself and colin was nodding, but you continued, “and greece! you practically crucified me for going to greece and you went?!” you practically screamed.

colin reached out suddenly, and held you steady as you broke down, “i- you had me so worried. i-“ you sniffled, “i thought after everything, after that night, that you didn’t want me anymore.” you cried.

colin pulled you into his arms suddenly, not caring of the scandal, “if you had let me explain- i would’ve told you that i was in greece buying your engagement ring.” he said it so casually you had to blink to make sure you heard him right.

you pulled away and looked at him, a smile on his face, “what?”

colin pulled out the ring and opened the box it was in, “now, i could either give it to you now, or we can have some extravagant event where i will propose to you in front of everyone and it’ll be this whole thing.” he seemed to ramble on and you shut him up with a kiss.

“i love you, colin bridgerton.” you whispered, and colin held your waist as he slid the ring on your finger, “i love you more, my love.”

the return to the ball after your hot and heavy kissing was bewildering. daphne had slipped away to give you some privacy but had come back just in the perfect nick of time to make it seem like she had never left.

you ran first to your parents and showed them the ring. your mother congratulated you, and your father nodded, “fine young man, that bridgerton.”

penelope stood off to the side with eloise. a broken expression was on her face as colin announced your engagement. a congratulations throughout the ballroom was met and penelope tried to seem happy.

“what’s wrong, pen?” eloise only turned her attention off of you and her brother to look at her friend.

“i- nothing. im really happy for colin.” she tried to hold an upbeat tone but eloise shook her head.

“i’ve tried to tell you for years but- my brother has always loved y/n. since he was a kid, he’s promised to marry her. it’s quite endearing actually, but after hearing the story over and over again, it gets annoying. he actually told all of us not to say anything to her as a surprise. he had gone to greece to get her that ring, actually.” eloise smiled, “she’s really perfect for him.”

penelope’s heart shattered as she nodded, walking away from her friend and she began to breathe heavily, frantically until she hit a corner. the hallway seemed to be empty until she heard daphne’s voice floating down from the library.

penelope could hear your laughter and colin’s murmurs.

“-and now you don’t have to worry about nerves on the first night! you already got that over with!” daphne laughed, you and colin laughing along with her.

penelope couldn’t even believe what she had heard. you and colin had sex already? before you were even engaged?

penelope smirked as she knew what she could do with this information, lady whistledown could destroy y/n’s reputation.

without noticing, penelope, who had her ear practically glued to the door, stumbled into the room as daphne opened it.

“penelope?” daphne looked at penelope who was on the floor.

“oh my god, are you alright?” you grabbed her hand and tried to help her up but she shrugged you off, “don’t touch me.”

you pulled back and colin went to help her up. unsurprisingly, she let him.

“i-“ daphne looked alarmed as she thought back to the conversation and penelope looked at you, “i heard everything.” she muttered and you nearly fainted.

just anyone else knowing, even though you were engaged, it would destroy you.

colin stepped forward, “if you know what’s good for you, pen, you won’t say anything.” he tried to seem harsh, and it actually worked.

things were put into perspective that colin would also be destroyed, involved in a scandal like this was practically forever.

penelope balked, nodding, “i-“ she didn’t say anything as she looked at you briefly before fleeing.

daphne put a hand on her chest to steady her rhythm and you looked at colin who sighed, “i’m sorry, my love.” he kissed your forehead.

22 years

marriage was a blissful dream. you woke up everyday to seeing the love of your life next to you. not to mention the child that colin had given you, just recently.

you were heavily pregnant, any day now and you’d be parents. colin kissed your belly goodnight and goodmorning, and everyday you would go over to his family home and spend time with everyone there.

as a wedding gift, your parents had given you the manor, and it was perfect, being able to see his family just next door, and in a place you were raised in to raise your own child.

your daughter was born just after daphne’s wedding to the duke. she had been your little gift, born in the bliss and love, you realized something.

“colin..” you looked down at your daughter, who just a few hours old, still didn’t have a name.

“remember that rose bud you had given me?” colin nodded, he was snuggled closely to your side as you looked down at your daughter.

“what if..” you smiled, cooing at soft hair that was like colin’s, “we name her rose?”

colin smiled, “rose bridgerton?”

you nodded, “what began it all.”

“it’s beautiful, you brilliant woman.” he kissed you once before muttering something about the name bud for your son.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 6

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, more dark elements to come.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Your hangover pounds in your temples as you move slowly, stiffly dropping armfuls of clothing into the boxes. A careless delve into the years of possessions, of items that mean nothing now, packed into trash bags and piled into your car. The drive to the secondhand store feels like eternity.

You linger in the lot. Going home means you have to answer the question. What now? You’ll just waste time until work.

That day is longer than the last. You go through your checklist numbly. You don’t think, just do.

As you peel off your rubber gloves, you hear Lloyd’s mocking tone echoing in your mind. He must’ve laughed his ass off watching you slink out like an injured dog. You quickly toss your things in the bucket and haul it out of the closet, your feet carrying you without a thought.

You cry in the car, circling the block as you put off returning to the house. You don’t go back. You take the turn towards the expressway as you get yourself together. The mall is packed, it’s evening. The food court is rowdy with teenagers and whole families, the early tidings of December waft in the air.

You enter the shop and go to the jewelry counter. You put the box on the glass and look up at the associate. It’s not Kelsey. Gina, the title manager cut under her name, greets you with a hesitant smile.

“I’d like to return this,” you announce.

“Oh, yes,” she takes the box and goes to the till, “and do you have the receipt?”

You pause. It’s in your glovebox. You could go out and get it. You’re tired.

“I got the warranty, can you look me up by that?”

“Sure,” she says as she types, “what date did you buy this? Do you have the card you used for the purchase?”

You go through the motions, swipe your card so your information comes up. You wait as she reads the screen. The money will be a good start to get the fuck out.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you’re past the return window.”

“What?” You gulp, “but… it’s been two weeks.”

“Three,” she corrects you, “unfortunately our holiday policy hasn’t started yet. We can offer store credit only.”

“Store credit?” You sigh, “thanks but… thank you. It’s not your fault, I–”

“You could exchange. Maybe, a necklace or–”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t need jewelry,” you take the watch, “thanks.”

You leave and look around the crowded mall as you make your way blindly along. A pawnshop might be able to get you back half what you paid. Still, that hardly helps. You sit on a bench, opposite an old lady with her walker. You take out your phone and connect to the iffy public wifi.

Your eyes nearly bulge out as you peruse local listings. You can barely afford to rent out a single room meant for college kids. You could live in your car but where? That’s sketchy, and illegal. You couldn’t afford the fine and you have little faith in not being found out.

You flip over to your Facebook. All your friends are married with kids. You haven’t talked in years either. Crashing on a couch is out of the question. You could wait, plot, live with your husband like nothing is wrong and put away money, like you have been. Pick up shift or take his advice and get a better job.

You don’t know. None of it will be easy. You put your head in your hands. Fuck.

You’re not going to have a breakdown in the mall. You get up and put the watch in your purse. You dig out some change and wait in line at the Dairy Queen. What’s another calorie splurge? You take your blizzard and weave your way through the bodies towards the closest exit.

You eat your ice cream in front of your steering wheel. It’s cold. Why did you think ice cream was a good idea? Well, you have the best ones, don’t you? Marrying Colin? That was really fucking smart.

Your phone vibes. You ignore it. Again. Three times more before you give in. It’s Colin. You don’t answer. Fuck him! FUCK HIM! You drop the empty cup on the next seat and hit the steering wheel.

You can’t stay. You won’t. You have some shred of dignity left. You look at yourself in the rearview and wipe away the errant smear of chocolate from the corner of your lips. Dignity? Pride? What is all that?

The engine rumbles after choking out cold air. You shift into gear and pull out, following the other shoppers towards the street. Your damn phone is going off again. You could smash it but it may just be the only thing you have left of value.

You surpass the expressway, too addled to take the high speed lanes. You feel a shaking in the axel. It’s usual. This old thing quakes whenever the weather shakes. As you turn off, a dinging and flashing light assaults you. You curse. Not right now.

There’s a knocking, like grinding and you quickly signal to get to the apron of the road. The engine dies before you can shut it off. You push yourself back in your seat and scream. Why? Why right now? Why you? Why does it all have to always be shit?

You lean your head on the wheel and whimper. You’d be better off freezing to death as the unconcerned drivers pass you by. You stay as you are, thinking of the bill from the mechanic, how many decimal places this time?

A beep comes from behind you, curt. You pop your head up and glance in the mirror. You crane around entirely to gape at the blue Lexus. The door snaps shut as the tall figure emerges and marches up the gravel. No. No! Noooooooo!

You turn the keys and your engine sputters before giving out again. You give it another try as Lloyd raps on the window with his knuckles. You snarl and keep trying until nothing happens. Until you’re forced to give up.

You sit back as he keeps tapping. You roll the window down with the crank, keeping your eyes ahead.

“What do you want?” You mutter.

“I’m thinking more than a handie for this one,” he chortles.

“Go away.”

Your phone lines up as it vibrates against the other seat. You turn it over and grip the wheel, as if you can will the car back to life. Lloyd stays, looming in the window.

“Well, tell me you got the money back for the watch. I’m sure that can cover some of it, huh–”

“Don’t–”

“Shit, has it been too long?”

“Stop.”

“Well, I mean, you could try a loan. You got good credit?” He sucks his teeth, “driving around this beater, I’m sure you have a shining record.”

“Enough.”

“Or a personal loan…” he suggests, “I might know someone–”

“I said stop!” You smack his hand as it rests in the window, “leave me alone. I don’t want your help. I don’t want you around me. Are you not happy? You destroyed everything–”

“Me? I’m not the one fucking another woman–”

“Shut up!”

“No, no, toots, you listen, I’m tryna tell you something,” he bends down to look you in the face as you slowly turn to him, “I hate to admit it but you take a look under my belt and you’ll see it for yourself.”

“Oh, don’t even–”

“Hey, a man is a man and I gotta say sometimes I even confound myself,” he smirks, “if the old man doesn’t want it, well, damn if I do. And don’t you worry, I got more than enough to fill the order–”

“No, go.”

“What are you gonna do?” He cups his chin, “can’t live in this thing now. I know cleaning up paper clips and coffee stains isn’t gonna pay the rent either. Or maybe, you’ll keep fucking the husband and he can pretend your her–”

You suck in air and sneer at the windshield. You punch the wheel, once, twice, a third time and your hand throbs. Your phone buzzes on and on and on like some sort of phantom of irony.

“Tell you what, I’ll pay the tow fee and get you home for the night. Tomorrow, we’ll negotiate terms.”

“Why are you doing this?” You grit out.

He scoffs and reaches to tickle your jaw, “all you had to do was cry for me. You still will, but this way will be more fun.”

[theoddcatlady]

She's a Keeper

That’s what my dad always used to say, with a chuckle and a pat to my head. ‘She’s a keeper,’ he’d say to a grocer or clerk at a convenience store. People used to fawn over the cute pigtailed gal by her daddy’s side, always said her pleases and thank yous, never threw a tantrum, was an absolute angel.  

Maybe this is why when I grew up I always need someone giving me a pat on the back. If I’m not getting a compliment about how I look or how well I did at work, I’m gonna assume I did something wrong or I had a piece of lettuce stuck in my teeth all day.  

This hasn’t always worked out for me. I’m a keeper, but I can also be a sucker. Like what’s been happening with my boss.  

I love working as a secretary, it’s a job that makes me feel really fulfilled. This makes me a bit of a stereotype though with how I practically melted when Jonathan Price, my boss, complimented my blouse and my work ethic on my first day. I just reminded myself by looking at the silver ring on his left hand and the picture on his desk with his children that I shouldn’t read too much into it.  

Jonathan was perfect though, and over time I realized I read him just right.  

I never wanted to be the other woman. I just wanted to be loved. And being around Jonathan, working late nights just to have a moment to talk with him, having drinks after work… the inevitable happened. He kissed me after a few too many beers, and we ended up going back to my place. We slept together.  

I poured my heart out to him after that, how I’d liked him for so long, and that I really felt a connection with him. He just smiled and brushed the hair from my eyes, telling me that I was the kind of girl you didn’t just let get away.  

Of course I believed him.  

Of course I swallowed the lump in my throat whenever I saw Mariana coming to visit her husband. My lover.  

Of course I ignored how I was the choice topic of office gossip, how the guys smirked and the other women gave me the side eye and the cold shoulder.

Of course I listened when Jonathan said he was going to leave her soon. He just needed to make sure he didn’t hurt her.  

And of course, whenever he called me to meet him at our typical meeting spot, a hotel in downtown, I was there with bells on.  

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking of me. I think it too. I’m not the brightest bulb in the package, but like I told you, I’m pretty easily manipulated. But I love Jonathan, I love his work ethic, I love how he takes care of his kids, kids that he learned soon enough I couldn’t have. I wonder if that was part of my appeal to him. That he couldn’t accidentally knock me up.  

He doesn’t… didn’t love me. I was just an easy lay, a stereotype in every sense of the word.  

I only started wising up last week, when it occurred to me that Jonathan really wasn’t slowing down his relationship with his wife and certainly wasn’t preparing for divorce proceedings. She was pregnant with their third child, I saw the pictures he posted on Facebook of their anniversary dinner.  

It hit me like a semi truck when I read his status about enjoying their fifteen years together and couldn’t wait to see what the next fifteen will bring.  

I cried. I drunk a lot of wine. And then I asked him to come to my apartment. That we needed to talk.  

Scary words for a guy, right? Took Jonathan a while to drag his ass over, which by then I was even more drunk. I don’t drink often, and certainly not in excess, but can you blame me? I’d just had that reality shattering realization I was just his pet to call on whenever he wanted to fuck and spew nonsense words at. Nonsense words I fell for.

Well, I did what I should’ve done about six months ago. I called him out on his bullshit. Said that he was never going to leave his wife but he wasn’t going to stop keeping me as his side piece. He tried, oh he tried to calm me down, but I wasn’t going to back down to his pretty words this time.  

“Either pick me or stay with your wife. Else I’ll call her and let her know the truth.”  

My ultimatum I’d spent the previous hour preparing. I felt super proud of it when I spat it out, expecting him to pick at least one of the options so this nonsense could end.  

Jonathan’s face went white, then red, and then… he picked a third option.

He killed me.

Jonathan picked up the empty wine bottle while he muttered something about me being too much trouble, and then he brought it down right on the top of my head. Caved my skull in on the first smash, sending shards of glass all over my living room. I dropped like a rock. But I guess Jonathan was just too pissed off, cuz he used the remains of the bottle in his hand to keep stabbing me, again and again in the throat and neck. I was about decapitated by the time he came to his senses.

Of course Jonathan freaked out. Panicked. Just washed the blood off his hands and wiped down the bottle before escaping the apartment. Left me there. All alone. Head nearly off my shoulders, my living room a mess of blood, wine, and glass.

Man, you should’ve seen the look on his face when I came into work today. I was at my desk by the time he came in. He looked like hell, understandably, he just killed a woman two days before. But he froze in his steps when he saw me sitting at my desk, tip tapping away on my keyboard while scheduling another appointment later that week.  

I just waved to him real quick before going back to work. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jonathan bolt for his office and slam the door.  

Oh, that felt so good. Watching him be the one to run in fear. Was he doubting his memory? Was he trying to convince himself that he’d just had a really bad dream?  

I clocked out after that, complaining about a cold, it’d been passed all around the office. But I didn’t go to my home.

I went to Jonathan’s home. A nice house, in a nice part of town. I saw his wife working in the small garden out front and, after adjusting my scarf, I got out and walked up the drive.

She didn’t see me until I was right behind her. Marianna was a pretty woman, even right now with a smudge of dirt across her face, no make up, and her auburn hair held back with a yellow bandanna. I cleared my throat and she nearly dropped the flower bulb she had in her hands. She glanced up, immediately recognizing me. “Oh, hi, Nicole. Is something wrong?” She got up, brushing off her hands and smiling from ear to ear. Her pregnancy was just starting to show, her belly just so slightly growing.  

“Can we talk inside?”  

“Oh sure, sweetheart. The kids are at school, won’t be back for a few more hours. Are you all right, your voice sounds a bit raspy.”  

“I’ll be fine.”

I waited until she was sitting down before I began the most difficult conversation of my life. And I got the most difficult part of it out of the way first.  

“Your husband and I have been having an affair for almost a year.”

It was so sad to see how Marianna just… sighed. How she just nodded. “I figured, with all the late nights at work and business trips that didn’t take him out of town. I was just about to hire a private investigator to start checking in on him, so you saved me a chunk of change. Are you still sleeping with him?”  

I shook my head. “No, I figured that ended when he about took my head off with a wine bottle,” I said.

Her brow knitted in concern, so I decided to show her. I undid the scarf around my neck and showed her what I’d been hiding all morning at work.

My neck is a sight right now, all purple and black and covered in decaying, cut up flesh. I can’t even imagine how the smell must be to someone not used to it. The putrefaction had spread down to my chest, which I showed her by unbuttoning my blouse. I’d had to start tearing my skin off to get any sort of relief, you can’t imagine how horrid the itching gets when your flesh starts rotting off the bone with your skin holding it all in. I even removed my gloves to show off the pus filled sores and bubbles forming in my wrists and fingers.  

Marianna went white as a sheet as she took it all in. It look so wrong, my face perfect as it always has been but from the neck down I look like rotting roadkill. When the wave of stench finally hit her she bolted for the bathroom. I could hear her violently throwing up from where I sat.

I’d just about buttoned my shirt back up when she came back, teetering a bit and still looking pale but managing to remain steady. “Wait. Show me again.”  

I shrugged and unbuttoned my shirt again. If she wanted a reason to barf again, she was welcome to it. But she didn’t. She sat beside me, her expression of disgust melting away into one of wonder. “… Before Jonathan insisted I take care of the kids full time, I used to be a surgeon. You… you shouldn’t be alive. You can’t be alive. Are you a ghost?”  

“No.” I shook my head. “This just happens sometimes. I’m surprised it happened after your husband killed me, I thought I was a goner. But then I woke up with my body falling apart, maybe I was due for a shedding, maybe this just happens when I get hurt real bad, I dunno.”

“Jonathan…” She shuddered and shook her head, “He’s a bastard, but he wouldn’t-”

“He beat me with a wine bottle, Marianna.” I pulled the bloody shards out of my purse. “And then when it broke, he stabbed me in the neck. All because I told him the affair was over.

Now she was crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her bottom lip wobbled with her sobs. “No… no… oh my god, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never thought… I never-”

“I need your help.”  

I rebuttoned up my blouse, but I left the scarf on my lap. “It’ll take me a few weeks to really come back together, but my daddy told me of a way to help me heal faster. His sister was like me. Fell apart, rotted like a corpse, and then looked just as pretty as ever in a few days. It took longer though, much longer… before she started working as a mortician.”  

It didn’t take any effort at all to convince her to help me. The kids are having a sleepover at grandma’s tonight, they really are cuties. There’s a wine glass laced with sleeping medication ready for Jonathan when he gets home, and I’m waiting in the basement, passing the time by ripping off more rotten skin, wondering what human flesh will taste like. Marianna’s already said I can stay here while I recover. She wants to study me. I’m something she’s never seen before and she’s fascinated.

She says I’m a real keeper.

[snelbz]

Better Or Worse {10}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

We sit in Gwyn’s office, holding hands on the couch.

The last few weeks have been good. Really good. Cassian has slept with me every night, his arms around me, tucked in close to him. We’ve kissed, we’ve snuggled, but nothing more has happened, even though I’ve been tempted. 

Especially when I can feel my husband’s cock against me for half the night and in the morning, long, thick, and hard. 

I know it’s been trying for him, I know he’s wanted me, I know he’s been holding himself back, but he hasn’t tried anything. Even if I’ve wanted him to, not that I’ve said anything to him, but sometimes when we’re lying there all I want is for him to slip a hand in my clothes, to touch me, tease me, fuck me until I’m nothing but a puddle in his hands.

Still, he’s respected my boundaries. He always has, which is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place. 

Even if I think I’m ready to take that next step, to have sex again — protected, of course. Double protection. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to try and have kids again, and if it happens by accident…

I shake the thought away before I can psych myself out. Sex, with my husband. I think I’ll bring it up soon, very soon. Either that or I’ll just try jumping him once we’re in bed.

Something tells me that he’d like that. A lot. 

“Nesta?”

“Hmm?” I know my cheeks are warm as I focus my attention back on Gwyn. Apparently she had asked me something while I was lost in my lust filled daydream. I look at Cassian.

He’s grinning, like he knows perfectly well where my mind has gone.

He’s always known my tells. 

“Cassian said you two have been sleeping in the same bed every night,” she says, politely, as always. “What has that meant to you?”

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s been great. I’ve forgotten how much more…I don’t know, secure I feel when he’s in bed with me. I’m more at ease when he’s sleeping beside me. Comforted.” 

“So it’s been a good change?” she pushes.

“A great change,” I say, and when I look at Cassian again, his eyes have softened.

My knees are weak. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Gwyn says, closing her notebook and I have no idea how an hour has already passed. It always seems to go so quickly. “After reflecting on your progress, I think it’s time that you two took the next step. At this point, I usually recommend a couple’s vacation. It gives you time to ignore the real world and just focus on one another for a few days without any interruption.” 

“A couples vacation?” Cassian asks, intrigued. “That sounds—”

“I can’t.” The words are out of me before I can stop them. Cassian’s smile has faltered. “I just…my new book is set to come out next month and there’s still so much to do. I have nonstop deadlines. Unless we wait until after—”

“After you’ll have to do press shit,” Cassian says, his voice quiet, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his calm. “You’ll be even busier after the release than you are now. I think getting away for a few days would be good for us. I can sneak away from the restaurant for a long weekend, at least, and if I can ignore my work for a few days, you can, too.”

Don’t snap. I take a deep breath. “You don’t understand—”

“Then bring your laptop with you,” he suggests, taking a deep breath of his own. He looks at me. “You can get some work done in the mornings, then we can be together later in the day.” 

“I would recommend keeping your laptop at home,” Gwyn says, as if she was preparing for my argument. “If you bring it, it will be all you want in front of you, it will be all you’re thinking about. As Cassian said, you can even go for just a long weekend. Thursday through Monday. Find someplace you want to go, relax and reconnect for a few days, then come back and resume your work schedule.” 

I nibble on my lip and I know that Cassian is looking at me, waiting for me to respond, so I don’t make eye contact. “I just…I’m sorry, I don’t think I can right now, it’s not a good time.”

Cassian drops my hand, but before he can say something out of his frustration, Gwyn says, “Why don’t the two of you think about it and talk about it? Nothing has to be decided today, but I do think it will be good for you.”

Cassian says nothing else but I nod. We wrap up our session and make our way to my car, which Cassian hates because he’s a giant and can hardly fit in the passenger seat, but the truck had a flat tire and we didn’t have time to change it before we had to leave to make our appointment. If I know Cassian at all, which I do, I bet he’ll be angry-changing the tire the second we get home. 

He opens the passenger side door the second I unlock the car and shifts awkwardly into the seat until he’s comfortable enough before closing the door.

Opening my own door, I get in the car and turn the engine over, glancing in the mirrors before putting the car in reverse.

“It’s four days, Nes.”

Sighing, I shift back into park. “Four days is a lot longer than you think.” I don’t mention that I get the bulk of my writing done on Friday and Saturday nights when he’s at the restaurant. Uninterrupted time isn’t something I get often, so a long weekend is too long for me to be away. “I can’t take any time off from edits, Cassian, not if I want the book to come out on time.”

He doesn’t immediately say anything, so I shift into reverse and start heading home. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but the timing isn’t great. We can do it later, I promise, but right now isn’t good.”

“It’ll never be a good time,” he says, slumping down in his seat. It makes him look like a petulant child.

“I just said we can go after the book comes out,” I say, trying my best to keep my tone calm, but I can hear the bite in my voice. 

He turns to face me in the car, his shoulder pressing against the window in the process. “I think we should go now. We’ve been doing great, Nesta, this can only help.”

I get where he’s coming from, and I’m really trying to keep my rising temper in check, but it’s challenging. “I agree, but I already have Eris up my ass—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Eris,” Cassian snaps. His calm demeanor has vanished. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. His temper, even worse than mine, has always been a stumbling block. 

“Well, you should, because he’s the reason I’ve been so successful,” I snap back. “He’s given me a schedule, I’m following that schedule, I have no choice but to follow the damn schedule, and there’s nowhere on that schedule that says I have time for a four day vacation.”

“Four days is nothing!” He shouts.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Cassian,” I hiss, “but I didn’t get to where I’m at because I neglected to do what’s necessary. I have fucking deadlines, and I’ve told you that I can’t fucking go, so I can’t fucking go.”

His jaw snaps shut and there’s a storm in his eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks. He stares at me for a moment, and even though I look back to the road, I can feel his eyes lingering. We ride like that, him staring at me, pissed; the silence overwhelming until we pull onto our street. 

Once I pull into the driveway, he’s already got the door open before I can even put the car in park, as if he can’t stand to be within a confined space with me for a second longer. 

Good.

I can’t stand him at the moment, either.

He’s being unreasonable, refusing to see where I’m coming from. 

As I expected, he’s storming toward his truck in the garage, opening the hatch to grab the spare tire. Without another look in his direction, I go inside.

Greg greets me, and I curse Cassian outloud to my furbaby before going straight for the wine cabinet. I pour a glass but don’t drink it. Instead, I lean on the counter, letting my face fall into my hands. 

What the hell is happening?

I went into Gwyn’s office today excited to talk about our progress, and now I feel like we’ve made no progress at all. 

Or maybe we have made progress and that’s the issue. 

I know there are worse things than my husband wanting to spend time with me, but he just doesn’t get it. He has no idea what it takes to be a published author, and I know I’ve subjected myself to my job too much in the past few years, but I don’t want to let my readers down. 

I stay leaning against the counter, closing my eyes, taking deep breaths. I don’t want this to get out of hand. I can’t let this get out of hand.

Cassian’s right. We’ve been doing really well. And a little couple’s vacation would be good for us. Great, in fact, especially now that I’m ready to be intimate again. We don’t need to be having these stupid little fights. Even if I feel passionately about what I’m fighting for, I know he does, too.

I try to think of a compromise. 

After taking a sip from my wine glass, I wander to the backdoor, where I can see through the little window into the garage. Cassian, with his jacket now off, is tightening the spare. His brow is set, his lips thinned, and he’s tightening the bolts probably way more than he should.

Cauldron help him next time he has to change that tire.

I watch as he finishes up, but rather than come inside, he continues around to each tire, checking them out one by one. Rolling my eyes, I take another drink of my wine and retrieve my laptop before settling in at the kitchen counter. Clearly, Cassian isn't interested in coming inside yet, so I’ll just sit and wait until he is.

It’s nearly twenty minutes later before the back door opens, my husband entering with grease on his hands and his hair tied back. When his eyes fall on my computer open before me, I can almost feel the ire radiating off of him. He doesn’t speak to me, goes straight to the sink and begins washing his hands.

Plopping my chin in my hand, I ask, “Do you think Skull’s Bay is nicer this time of year or the Coronal Islands?”

He’s in the process of trying to get the grease out from under his nails when he freezes and looks at me.

When he doesn’t say anything, I hum. “Or maybe Adriata. We’ve been there before, but who says it has to be somewhere new.”

Cassian turns off the tap, wiping his hands off on one of the kitchen towels. Turning to face me, he leans a hip on the counter and slings the towel over his shoulder. “When?”

I clear my throat. “I was looking at flights for next weekend.”

He’s moving before the words are fully out of my mouth, crossing the kitchen. “I promise, baby, this is going to be worth it.”

“I have some conditions though.” I push my laptop to the side, the travel sites half forgotten. “I know Gwyn said I should leave my computer. I can’t, Cass. There physically isn’t enough time for me to take four full days off.”

“That’s fine,” he agrees, his eyes bright.

Toying with the stem of my wine glass, I add, “I’m also probably going to be…distant in the days leading up to the flight.”

That grants him pause. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to try and get as much done as I possibly can before we leave, so I can ignore my laptop as much as I can while we’re there.”

Cassian stares at me.

I stare back.

“If you can’t go—”

“Are you seriously trying to persuade me not to go now that I’ve made up my mind that I’m going?” I scold. “Cassian—”

“I was pressuring you,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

It only occurs to me now that I’ve put him in a tough position. Since we’ve been distant with one another, since things have been weird, he’s probably extra cautious about pressuring me into things. 

I hesitate.

He picks up on it.

“Cassian—”

“If you can’t go—”

“I want to go—”

“But if you really can’t—”

“I want to go!” I laugh, unable to control the countless emotions running through me. I’m frustrated, but also excited and vulnerable. I stare at him, shaking my head. “I want to go. I just need you to meet me halfway. I know it’s not ideal—”

“You’ll go?” He asks, interrupting me.

I nod, taking a step towards him. “You were right. This will be good for us. I owe us this.”

Cassian is looking at me like he doesn’t believe a damn word that comes out of my mouth, and it hurts. Yet, he nods. “Okay.”

I haven’t realized how close we’re standing, how near he is to me. His eyes are still searching mine, his disbelief and suspicion on full display. 

“It’s almost as if you’re the one that no longer wants to go,” I say, quietly, and I mean it as a joke, to try and ease the tension, but it doesn’t come out like one.

Cassian doesn’t disagree. He says, “I’ve learned not to get my hopes up. I’ll believe we’re going when we’re on the plane. Until then…” he shrugs and takes another step closer.

He’s close enough that I can breathe him in. I want to reach up and run my hands down his chest, but I don’t. I just meet his gaze. “Aren’t we supposed to be working on trust? Trust me a little, Cass.”

“I trust you,” he says, and I note how his eyes dart to my lips for a split second. “But I also know you. You’re saying you want to go because you feel guilty, not because you’d rather be on vacation than here, working. I also know that when you’re stressed, it’s impossible for you to enjoy yourself or, you know, be pleasant.” He reaches up and brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “Promise me that we’re going, and that we’re going because it’s what you want to do, and that you won’t get sucked into work while we’re there.”

“I promise,” I say, and I allow myself to touch him now, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck. “I promise I want to go and have this time with you.”

He searches my eyes for another minute before nodding, and his eyes are back to being bright and filled with excitement as a small smile twists his lips. His arms snake around my waist as he says, “Good.”

Making my promise more convincing, I kiss him.

Whatever tenuous hold my husband had on his self-control snapped, just like I expected it to.

He crushed me against his chest, his lips devouring mine. I wasn’t surprised when I felt his tongue against the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I parted for him, relishing in the feel of his kiss.

It had been so damn long since he kissed me like this.

My nails dug into his back as I kissed him back and before I knew it, he was cupping my ass, lifting me up and setting me down atop the counter. He no longer had to hunch over to kiss me, nearly the same height now and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders.

Cassian stepped between my legs, tugging me toward the edge of the counter, his mouth still ravaging mine.

This passion, this heat between us was what had drawn us together in the first place. He was my match, my equal, as ravenous for me as I was for him. In ten years, that fire had never gone out.

Until it did. And that’s something I will never let happen again.

I gasped as Cassian ground himself against me, his length thick and hard, telling me that this was affecting him as much as it was me. The second I broke the kiss, his lips found my neck, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin there.

I moan, quietly, and his hands on my upper thighs tighten. My head falls to the side, giving him better access and he licks his way up the side of my neck until he’s nibbling at my jaw, then trailing back down until his mouth is sucking at my collarbone. My hands can’t stay still, can’t stay off of him, and I don’t even realize that they’re slipping beneath his shirt until he growls against my skin. I don’t give it a second thought. I pull his t-shirt up and he leans back, meeting my gaze as I pull it over his head and toss it aside. His lips are swollen and he’s breathing heavily, his eyes wild and full of lust. I lay my palms flat against his chest and run them down his stomach, my fingers running over every hard, defined muscle before I grab him by the waistband of his jeans and pull him back to me. 

My legs wrap around him, getting him as close to me as possible, as our mouths clash. There’s nothing holding us back, not anymore, not now. He’s kissing me like he needs me to breathe, and the throbbing between my thighs has become nearly unbearable. Needing any sort of friction, I rock my hips against him and he groans into my mouth as he pushes off my sweater and grabs my breasts through my t-shirt. 

Apparently not finding that good enough, my shirt is quickly removed, and it’s only then that Cassian’s mouth leaves mine. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra. I’ve always known that my breasts were one of my husband’s favorite assets of mine, and I can’t even remember the last time he’s seen them. 

He makes a show of it, dropping my bra, releasing the hook and letting it fall. I sit still, letting him admire me. As he does, I glance down where I can see him perfectly outlined in his jeans, doing a little admiring myself.

His eyes, impossibly dark, rove over me, his hand clasping the back of my neck as he kisses me again. Then he’s lowering me back, down against cool marble of the countertop. My gasp as the shock of the cold surface presses into my skin has me throwing my head back and his lips are no longer near mine.

I feel his warm breath against my stomach, just beneath my belly button, and I freeze. He presses the gentlest, most unexpectedly sweet kiss to the slight dip there, before trailing upward with another and another.

I was so focused on his mouth that I didn’t notice his hands until one was cupping the swell of one full breast. Arching into him, I whimper softly when his fingers brush over my nipple, the sensitive bud tightening almost immediately under his touch. His thumb sweeps it the other way before his forefinger joins in, rolling it between them. I’m unable to stop my groan as I look down to find his eyes w bb already on mine.

And his lips hovering over my other breast.

With slow, restrained movements, Cassian lowers his mouth, letting his tongue drag over my nipple. Fighting to keep my eyes open, my hand dives into his hair, his own hand working my other breast in time with his tongue.

I curse, which only encourages him. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer as his teeth graze my nipple.

I shift beneath him, a curse on the tip of my tongue, but then my phone is vibrating on the counter a few feet away. Unable to help it, I glance over and see Eris’s name flashing across the screen.

Every thought I have leaves my mind. 

My first instinct is to reach for it, but I hesitate. Then again, if it’s something important, I need to know now. Especially considering we’re now going on this vacation and I have to get as much shit done as possible before we go. 

He must sense the fact that I’m distracted, because he looks up at me. “Ignore it.”

I should ignore it.

I know I should ignore it.

But whatever the hell Eris has to say is all I can think about. He rarely calls after my office hours, only with important news to relay. 

Cassian sucks my nipple between his lips once more as I say, “Cass.”

He freezes, his body tensing, and looks up at me again.

“Just…it’ll only be a minute.”

His brows furrow but then the recognition hits as I reach across the counter and grab my phone, just as it stops ringing. I sit up, moving Cassian away from me as I do. When I unlock my phone to call Eris back, Cassian speaks up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice is quiet, his breathing still ragged. “Can’t this wait until we’re done?” 

“It’ll only be a minute,” I say, pleadingly. “I promise. Then we’ll pick up where we left off—”

“No.”

My thumb stills where it hovers above Eris’s contact information. His voice is still quiet, but there’s an edge to it. “No?”

“Don’t, not right now,” he says, and steps between my legs again. He palms my breasts as his lips find my neck.

“Cass, it’ll only be a minute.” The words barely leave me before my phone starts ringing again. Apparently Eris isn’t waiting for me to call him back. 

Against my better judgment, I answer the call.

The warmth of Cassian’s body on mine is gone immediately and he’s scooped his shirt off the floor and is headed for the living room before I can speak.

But that’s mostly because Eris doesn’t give me the chance.

“Checked your email lately?”

I blink. My email? What about my email could be so important he’s calling me so late? “No, I’ve been busy this evening. Why, what’s—?”

“Your extension has been approved.”

My entire being goes still. “Oh.”

Pulling my phone away from my ear, I quickly skimmed over the email sitting in my inbox.

I had emailed one of the reps for the publishing company earlier, asking about an extension on the release. Although Eris is usually the go-between between the company and I, I’ve always had a good relationship with them. I’ve never missed any major deadlines or had a delayed release, but only because Eris would never allow it. I wasn’t even sure what the process to officially request for one was.

So I sent an email asking for information.

Apparently, all I’d needed to do was inquire, with my stellar reputation with them.

I hadn’t mentioned it to Cassian because, like he said, I hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up.

“We don’t have time for an extension, Nesta.” He sounded calm, but I knew he was anything but.  He was likely pacing, AirPod in one ear, his fingers steepled together. It was his standard not happy pose. “You are not pushing back this release.”

“I have to,” I argue. “I have too much on my plate right now. I need more time.”

“Do you know what I need, Nes?” Unlike when Cassian shortened my name, I hated when Eris did it. It sounded condescending and it infuriated me. “I need the final ten chapters emailed to the editors by Tuesday. I need you to respond to the email I sent you about cover artwork for the special edition we’re releasing later this year. I need you to get to work and leave the publishers to me.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And if I say I can’t do that?”

“You will,” he says, tone final, and hangs up.

I sigh, dropping my phone on the counter. My hands rub down my face before I look back up, expecting to see my husband there.

But he’s not.

I didn’t even notice that he had left the room.

“Cassian?”

He doesn’t respond.

And later that night, he never comes to bed. 

[queeniecook]

June 12

Since the other night – Denise and Jillian Ambrose had kept quite on their plans for Garrett from him. Jillian had called Dakota and Joey, asking if they could come to San Sequoia for an intervention for her Dad. Unfortunately Dakota is set to be deployed to Hidden Springs today which Jillian understands. Thankfully Joey is able to come to provide guidance.

Andrew has been told what is going on and decided he wanted to go spend time at a friend’s house instead. Jillian thinks it would be good for Andrew to be there during the intervention but he’s almost eighteen and capable for making his own choices.

The mother and daughter duo, along with Joey, wait for Garrett to return home from work. The moment Garrett walks in the door, he knows something is up because of everyone’s faces and the fact that Dakota’s brother is in the house, a fuzzy memory hits him of seeing Joey in a bar .

Denise is joined on the couch by her husband, she feels nervous and sick to her stomach. She doesn’t want to do this but knows she has to.

“Denny?” Garrett asks softly. He has a good idea what this is all about. After his daughter had to literally support him so he could get into his own house and he yelled at her, he’s starting to see he has a problem. 

Denise finally looks over at her husband “I love you very much. We’ve been together since our senior year of high school and I can’t picture my life without you.” she begins, glancing over at Jillian, who is seated in the chair across from them. Joey is pretending not to listen while looking at a tree frog that the family has. “That’s why I can’t let this go on any longer. Honey, you need help. Coming home drunk….climbing in bed with our teenage son, mistaking him for me…yelling at our kids when they haven’t misbehaved…it’s not you.”

Garrett, despite his love for his family feels a bit attacked though he isn’t being attacked. He hears Joey step closer. “The thing with Andrew with an accident, it was dark and I wasn’t used to that house yet. I didn’t do anything inappropriate to him.” He defends himself.

“He knows that and I know you didn’t do anything either.” Denise assures him, Joey warned her if Garrett feels attacked he may refuse help. 

Garrett relaxes slightly “I do feel bad for yelling at you, Jillian. I’m sorry.” He says to his daughter, looking over at her. Jillian slightly nods but remains quiet. This is Denise’s time to speak. 

“I’ve arranged for you to stay at a rehab center in Granite Falls for a month, longer if needed.” Denise starts.

“I can’t do that, what about my job?” Garrett asks her. How will the bills get paid? They aren’t rich people and himself and Jillian are the only ones bringing in any money currently. 

“I spoke with your boss, your spot is safe until you return.” Denise tells her husband, the money situation is a worry for her as well. 

“We still can’t pay our monthly bills on what Jillian earns at the bookstore.” Garrett counters. He doesn’t want to go away and go through rehab but he is legitimately worried about leaving his family to fend for themselves.

“I know and that’s why I’m going back to work.” She knows Garrett won’t care for the idea. Denise hasn’t worked since she was pregnant with Jillian. 

“But I promised you that you would get to be a stay-at-home Mom once our first child was born…” Garrett objects brokenly, the weight of his actions starting to weigh down on him.

Denise moves off the couch and kneels before her husband of twenty plus years, cradling his face in her hand. “Honey, I’m fine with it. I got my undergraduate degree in business and hardly used it. It’ll be kind of nice to put it to use, to be honest.” She tells him, brushing a tear away from his cheek. “The most important thing is that you get the help you need and come back to us.”

Garrett stares at his wife, feeling some of his resistance slip away. He knows he needs to do something about his drinking. Not only for his family but for himself. His behavior lately is not who he is as a person. He doesn’t like who he sees when he looks in the mirror anymore which makes him want to drink even more.

Garrett stands and hugs his wife tightly as she places a kiss on his forehead. “I’m going to make a few more calls while you talk with our daughter.” She whispers before releasing him.

“Jilly Bean….I’m so sorry…” Garrett tells her, she seems more closed off to him than his wife. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you the other night, you were just trying to help me.”

Jillian nods, trying not to cry. “Are you going to rehab?” She asks softly. 

“Yes. I’m going. I need to, for all our sakes.” Garrett tells her sincerely. He wants to hug his daughter but she seems like she wouldn’t have it at the moment. 

“I do love you, Dad. It’s just…hard. For more than one reason…” Jillian trails off as Garrett slowly steps closer to her. Joey stepped outside with Denise after he felt Garrett wasn’t going to flee or blow up on someone. 

“I love you too.” Garrett assures her, which makes Jillian burst into tears.

Even though she may push him away, Garrett places his hand on his first borns’ back and starts rubbing it like he did when she was little and would have nightmares about witches and warlocks.

“Dad…I think I might be pregnant.” Jillian admits through sobs. She hadn’t planned to tell him, worried it might be too much for him right now but she felt she needs to tell someone. 

Garrett almost falls over once he realizes what Jillian just told him, but he remains steady and keeps rubbing her back. This news has motivated him even more. He may have a possible grandchild on the way and he’s not going to stand in the way of himself being around for it.

[cherienymphe]

My sister has a married (separated but they’re still pretending they’re together for the kids) man over and she’s gone an fucking waited for us all to go to sleep and she’s in the living room with him. It’s the second time she’s done this.

I want to cry. I know that sounds so ducking stupid because it’s none of my business but I literally haven’t sat on my sofa for months because of when she has him over the first time. I don’t want to sit on a sofa where they probably fucked. And like, I get up at the middle of the night for cereal most nights but I literally can’t now because they’re down there.

All I wanted to do is sleep but I can’t because there’s a man in my house who I’ve only met ONCE. It’s genuinely making me want to go and sleep in a hotel. I want to leave. I was trying to be a cockblocker and I was in the kitchen for ages pretending I couldn’t sleep, and she was just there watching me, texting him and laughing. (I know that’s bad, but tbf I was thirsty)

He’s a fucking scumbag (I pretend I find him okay but reality I fucking hate him). I know I need to work on myself because this is probably jealousy or some shit. Like I know this isn’t healthy for me. It’s not like any of what I’m typing right now my sister knows. She thinks I either 1. don’t know, or 2. that i’m fine with it.

She’s 35. She hasn’t got kids or a husband and I understand he’s the first person to be obsessed with her for years, but he’s already done the kids and marriage thing for 12 years so… Is he really looking for that again? I doubt it. I just don’t like that he’s making her wait, like you’re either with your wife or you’re not.

But at the end of the day it is NONE of my business. It’s just making me feel sick right now and I was planning on having a nice sleep but I have this problem where I literally cannot fall asleep when there’s other people in my house.

I know I sound deranged but she’s my only reason for living some days and when she’s ignoring me to text him constantly it’s literally so fucking soul sucking. I should probably move out but leaving my mom and my sister together is just recipe for trouble and if I moved out my mother would literally be homeless because she can’t pay for rent on her own. I’m the youngest (20) and always wanted to travel but I’m scared of leaving because I’m scared of coming back and being alone for the rest of my life. I don’t want my family to break apart.

Anyways, my GAWD that’s long. I’ll leave this here if you want to read it. I know you’re not a therapist lol so you don’t have to reply. Just had to rant because I haven’t got anyone to talk to. Okay, I’m going to either read gothic fiction or watch Buffy to distract me 💜

Hey I don't think you're wrong to be bothered by some strange man being in your house at all hours of the night. I get that everyone's family is different, but I wasn't raised in an environment like that so I too would be bothered. Yes, she has just as much right to the space as anyone else, but it's not solely her house. You have a right to feel comfortable too.

As for your sister, you have to let her make her own decisions/mistakes. While I personally don't think it's wrong for separated couples to see other people, it's almost always a recipe for mess when no one has officially filed for divorce. Are the chances pretty great that he and his wife will reconcile and leave your sister in the dust or maybe even a dirty little secret? Yeah probably but that's her problem not yours lol. Especially since she's way old enough to not be so dumb.

As for you...babes you're 20! I understand the pressure to make sure your family is alright, but you're telling me that if you leave and live your life, your fuckass 35 y/o sister can't keep the bills paid and help your mom out? At 20 y/o, I just don't think that's your responsibility. That's supposed to come when you're older and borderline decrepit and you have to help your mom to the bathroom in her old age 😭

I won't flat out tell you what to do bc it's your life and you're the one who has to live with your decisions but if I was in your shoes...ain't no way

[twtd11]

Tumblr, it is time. It is time for me to tell you about this year’s lesbian hallmark-esque movie from Tello Films. To wit:

A Holiday “I Do”

Much like Christmas at the Ranch, which I talked about last year, this movie is, well, more charming than good. Also like Christmas at the Ranch, it takes place at a horse ranch. Or farm? Or stables? It’s never quite clear except that they make some money from giving riding lessons.

Somehow, as has been pointed out to me, the marketing for this film completely ignores the whole horse aspect of the movie. Maybe because they didn’t want the audience to think it was Christmas at the Ranch 2.0? Which is fair considering that is, in fact, basically what it is. Maybe Tello Films has a hook up with some horse people?

Anyway, we have our lead, Jane. Here’s the sich with Jane: Jane had big career aspirations but she met a boy, thought she fell in love, had a baby, then divorced the boy because she realized she was gay. She and the daughter moved in with mom when Jane’s dad died. I can’t remember the daughter’s name and IMDb isn’t helping me out here, so I’m just going to call her the kid.

The kid likes to say droll, sophisticated, self-aware things that sound exactly like what you expect a kid to sound like in a movie about lesbians made by queer people, but which have no relation to how kids actually talk. Yes, kids can be droll and sophisticated and self-aware, but this kid’s voice was 100% constructed by an adult who maybe hasn’t spent a lot of time around kids. I mean, I haven’t spent a lot of time around kids that age either, but I’m pretty sure they don’t sound like this kid. But still, the kid is funny most of the time, so it kinda works.

Back to the plot:

So Jane is alone and lonely and there’s an obligatory speed dating scene where we meet a bunch of stereotypical lesbians which wants to be funnier than it actually is. She goes home and laments her singlehood. But she can’t lament for too long because Jane’s ex-husband and his new fiancée are about to arrive in town. They’re in town to get married and Jane is in charge of the bachelor party. You see, the ex husband is also Jane’s best friend.

Here’s a question (which is never answered): if the ex-husband’s only connection to this small town is that his ex-wife lives there, why did he choose to have his wedding there? We never get an answer for that question.

After all of that set up, I finally get to introduce the love interest. Her name is Sue, and she’s the lovely couple’s wedding planner!

To facilitate shenanigans, the lovely couple goes off to the airport to pick up the fiancée’s parents and they get stuck there overnight because of the snow. This means that the bride isn’t there to taste the catering and do other things the bride should do before the big day (personally, I’d think you’d want to taste the cake and the catering more than a day before your wedding, but I’ve never gotten married so what do I know?) Jane, who is instantly enamored of Sue, happily fills in as the bride to taste various foods. They get side tracked with sledding and a mid day yoga break (who stops in the middle of their work project and is like, yes, I’ll go to a random yoga class now?).

There are several quirky side characters that play various parts in the plot. Some of them come off better than others. The evil banker who isn’t really evil because we’re undermining that trope, was particularly a stand out for me. She knew her job and she was totally in.

I’ll leave the conflict/climax/resolution to you, dear reader, should you feel the need to spend $7 to rent it. I feel like it was worth my money.

And in another parallel with Christmas at the Ranch, I spent most of the movie wanting the leads to kiss and then when they actually got to this kiss, damn it was awkward.

[apompkwrites]

I’ve read (most of) your twisted wonderland sibling things and as the oldest in my family, it feels…weird! Like! It’s super cute but as the oldest it had me thinking, what would the older siblings be like!?! (With angst, cause who doesn’t love to cry!?!)

Rosehearts

The older Rosehearts would prob be a wild child, the second they were out of their mothers control they nose dived. They did drugs and alcohol, so many parties. They hit rock bottom then started digging cause they were finally allowed to make mistakes! Since their mother was so controlling, they really don’t know how to handle money, or dieting, or anything really, cause they never had the chance to learn. Their mother has disowned them, but Riddle gets a card for every holiday with no return address and only a small rose and heart drawn in the corner. Riddle knows who it is, but just tells his mom it’s from a school mate. One holiday when he doesn’t get a card, he thinks they’re gone. They’re gone and he never got to show off his housewarden outfit, or show them how far he’s come. He never even got to say good bye and now their gone!

Kingscholar

Major Middle child syndrome, always forgotten. Farlan is king, Leona is a disgrace, and Sib is just…there. Average, boring, nothing special. They end up basically a shadow in the castle, even Farlan and Leona forgetting them sometimes, until they see a third place at the table that just feels empty. Honestly, sometimes the brothers wonder if their Sibling died and they never heard about it because they just…never see them! They see remnants, a dirty plate, some books left out, ect, but hasn’t seen THEM for so long. Cheka probably doesn’t even realize he has another aunt/uncle, he’s only heard stories of the rumored “forgotten Kingscholar”. Sometimes Leona sees them turn a corner, but when he gets there the other is gone, or sees them outside through a window, but again, they’ve disappeared by the time he arrives. Neither brother remembers what their siblings face looks like, or what their hairstyle is. Sometimes they both wonder if they even had a sibling, until a memory of them as kids playing surfaces, a third unknown cub running around with them, and laughter that isn’t either of their own

Ashengrotto

Sib probably went with their father after the divorce of their parents, they ended up the major bully after being bullied so much. If everyone hates them, they hate everyone. Their tentacles are covered in scares, and always scraped up now. A major punk, lone shark, ect. They’ve turned their back on everyone. Azul doesn’t remember them much since they’re usually not around anyway, but he remembers being read bedtimes stories by someone soft and sweet, he remembers when his parents would scream and fight and wake him up in the middle of the night, someone would crawl into bed and cover his ears to muffle the sounds. He remembers their face vividly, and he hates what they’ve become. He wants to help protect them now, from their selves. They protected him as a guppy, it’s his turn to return the favor, if he can convince them they need other people. It hurts when they push him away now instead of curling around him so protectively.

AlAsim

The failure of the Al Asim name, Kalim is the true AlAsim, the oldest was a fluke, a mistake, a bastard. Kalim’s older sibling was born to a mistress, and for no fault of their own, the entire family hates them. Kalim’s mother despises the living proof of her husband’s lies, their father hates the look of his mistakes, only Kalim loves his sibling. But that’s not enough when even the servants call you a mistake. Sib would always try to play with Kalim and Jamil when they were younger, brushing out Jamil’s hair and teaching them to braid, helping put on jewelry and dress up only to be shooed away from the “True Al Asim” to keep their bastard hands from harming Kalim. They tried so hard to love and be loved, by anyone! Kalim remember ps playing airplane, remembers them flying on the magic carpets, playing dress up and pretend, it’s why he always played those with his younger siblings now. They brought such joy to him, but they never smile anymore. They don’t play anymore. They just sit there, almost catatonic, eat, sleep, like a living doll. He misses their smile.

(That’s all I’ve got for now,

waaaah older sibling hcs!!!

interesting take on our older!rosehearts :OO kinda like rebel except they start spiraling and spiraling until they just... disappear. i would guess that older rose has been sending riddle cards for the longest time but only until after his overblot did he fully appreciate them. and then, shortly after, the letters stopped. the only confirmation of his older sibling being alive has vanished and he can't help but wonder if he had realized things sooner, would they still be here?

older!kingscholar is average. theyre not excelling or failing they're just... surviving. their presence is still in the castle but their actual being is never seen. they wander the halls silently, leaving traces of their whereabouts only to disappear once again. it would take a miracle for anyone to see older kingscholar again.

i like the idea of older!ashengrotto being a sort of rock for azul? only to be taken away from him because of the divorce? like when azul was being bullied when he was younger, older ashengrotto would swoop in and take him away, shooing off the bullies in the process. but ever since they were taken away to live with their father, they've grown cynical of everything. the only person they cared for was their younger brother but now they barely get to see him :((

and and older asim being the child of a mistress which is why kalim is seen as the golden child of the asims :OO they love their little siblings but their parents shun them from being able to be that older sibling to them. all because of a mistake that wasn't their fault, only the cause of their entire existence. and eventually, all of that shunning turns them into a human doll. they learn that they have no free will because they are only defined by a mistake their father made years ago D:

[rosenallies]

Oh i'm back on the phone sex train after that! Thank you so much for writing it! Maybe a prompt for the future, what about one of Rosés sisters (preferably goona, since she doesn't have much backstory yet) visiting them in Chicago for the first time (maybe she's there for work or something) and she really bonds with nali? Something like that could be cute i think?

aw miss goona <3 tbh bc I’m a daydreamer and this au has been around for forever on this blog and I zone out while doing day to day tasks everyone in this au has such a deep backstory that just lives in my head and has never been said on here at all <3 even the girlies themselves <3 sorry this is a bit short and sweet but yeah <3 ty for keeping phone sex au alive and well <3

——

Rosé bounced on her heels excitedly, her green eyes sparkling as people filed into the baggage claim area, her eyes scanning for her younger sister that she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. After months and months of begging and poor planning on both their parts, Rosé finally convinced her to come out to Chicago to visit and this time they both followed through with the plans.

“I’ve never seen you so excited,” Denali remarked, watching with amusement at her partner’s excitement.

“I miss her,” Rosé sighed, continuing to scan the crowd.

Since moving to Chicago just over five years ago now, Rosé had been back and forth a couple times to visit their youngest sister and her wife and kids, but since Lagoona divorced her husband she’d been traveling nonstop, doing all the things that she felt like she couldn’t do when she got married fresh out of high school. To say Rosé was excited just to see her would be an understatement but she was also incredibly excited to introduce her sister to Denali who’d become such a huge part of her life, it felt incomplete knowing that two of her favorite people in the world didn’t know each other.

Finally, out of the corner of her eye, Rosé spotted her.

“Lagoona!” She called, waving frantically toward her until she noticed, a wide smile spread across her face as she hurried to her sister, pulling her against her chest when she got there.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Rosé sniffled, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“Are you crying? My heartless big sister crying? Can’t be,” Lagoona joked, “you’re getting soft in your old age, huh?”

Rosé laughed, wiping her eyes. “I must be. You have her to thank for that,” she said, gesturing to Denali beside her, “this is-“

“Denali, I know,” Lagoona chuckled, pulling the shorter brunette in for a quick hug, “every phone call we’ve had for years has been ‘Denali this’ and ‘Denali that’. It’s so good to finally meet you, though. My sister really loves you.”

Denali felt herself flush. “It’s good to meet you too,” her voice dropped to a shy whisper, “I really love her too.”

“Oh, baby,” Rosé cooed, kissing her head, “I love you the most. But let’s head home before I make my sister sick.”

Conversation on the drive home flowed nicely, Lagoona spoke of her travels and the people she met along the way while Rosé chimed in with little tidbits about their life in Chicago, making Denali smile to herself from the backseat.

Once they got home, Rosé helped settle Lagoona into the guest bedroom before she started on dinner, asking multiple times before she left for the kitchen if either of them needed anything. Denali and Lagoona seemingly silently bonded as Rosé doted over them both, sharing a look every time she insisted she get Denali water or Lagoona a snack.

“She’s always been a people pleaser,” Lagoona laughed as the redhead disappeared into the kitchen, “always taking care of everyone else before herself.”

Denali smiled. “So that hasn’t changed at all then.”

“Not one bit,” Lagoona shook her head affectionately, “so tell me about you, Denali, besides the fact that you’ve somehow softened my sister into a pile of lovey mush.”

Feeling at ease with Lagoona felt easy for Denali who usually dreaded conversations like this, but Lagoona was so easy to talk to and she seemed genuinely interested in what Denali had to say despite them meeting officially only a few hours prior. From what Rosé has told Denali of her parents, she briefly wonders how people like that managed to raise three incredible daughters, every one of them a gem in their own way.

By the time Rosé announced dinner was ready, Denali felt like she’d been catching up with someone she’d known for forever.

Just before they entered the kitchen, Lagoona placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I can tell even if you weren’t the love of my sister’s life, we’d be great friends.”

Denali smiled. “I think so too.”