#discussion of possible miscarriage

[sofasoap]

Lastochka AU - Strange tribulation

Pairing : Nikolai x F!Reader ( OC/Mini MacTavish)

Summary: The shock, the anger, the banishment,the begging, and the finale.

AU to my Lastochka series

WARNING: Mature Theme. swearing. alcohol use. Slight angst. Please check the tag for further warning ( didn't want to put spoilers here. slight spoiler really.) Inaccurate medical depictions.

Half proof read when I am half asleep. sorry.

A/N : Well, the finale to the crack series.

masterlist

“John… how did I fuck up so bad?”

“ You only got yourself to ask, don’t you? You did not heed my warning. Now, face the consequences. From what I have heard, you deserve it.” 

How did it go so wrong? 

You were in a good mood. Well, apart from that little hormonal meltdown ten minutes ago from accidental spilling of the icing sugar onto the counter, you were excited about the evening ahead. 

Today is the day.

You're going to tell him. Everything. 

Plus the unexpected surprise you only found out a few weeks ago. 

You were humming away as you took out the apfelstrudel from the oven. Perfect, I am such a baking genius. You thought, giving yourself a pat on the back. I’m sure Nikolai will like this. Not too sweet but great as an after dinner dessert.  You should ask König and his partner next time for more dessert recipes. 

You heard three rapid short knocks and two long knocks on the door.  Quickly wiping your hand on the apron, you double check everything on the table before rushing towards the door. 

“Nik!! Just in time! Come, I just finished baking…” Your smile faltered when he made no attempt to step over the threshold into the apartment. 

“Nikolai?” you call out his name timidly, reaching out for him. He took a step back,evading your touch. 

Taking a deep breath in, he whispered your name as he handed you the brown paper.Your heart dropped. He hardly calls you by your real name. “I’m not staying for dinner.” He looks at you, but it feels as if he’s looking past you, his eyes void of any emotion. “Just here to drop this off. If you want to contact the lawyer, the number is in there.” 

Lawyer? What for?

You open the envelope with shaky hands.

Application for divorce?

“Nik..I.. I don’t understand?” your voice wavered, looking back and forth between the paper and him. oh that goddamn fear is starting to bubble up again. 

“I am setting you free.”

“Free? But…” The room is spinning, deep breath in, and out, and in. you clutch tight to your apron, you can’t collapse right now. Not yet. Not until he knows. 

This isn’t happening. What is going on? Why is he doing this to you? After all the confession? All the attention he showered  you with. 

Is he sick of you? Throwing you aside because he is starting to get bored of the sex? And bored of you?

“I thought you love me?” Tears finally spilled down your face as you blinked a few times, trying to stay focused. Oh the ache… it hurts. Like someone has reached inside you, clenching and twisting your heart, stabbing it a few times before pulling it out and stomping on it. 

You feel sick. Physically sick. 

You saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes before turning his head away, avoiding your pleading look. Tense silence simmers between the two of you, to what seems like eternity before he starts walking away.

“Wait!!!’ you quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving. Your head is still reeling from the turn of event, but he has to know the unexpected surprise that you were supposed to tell him at dinner tonight. 

After all, both of you contributed to the production of this little miracle. 

Your other hand fishes around your apron pocket, grabbing the little square gloss printout and shove it into his hand. 

“I.. I only found out a few days ago. If.. if you want to come along to the next appointment…” you asked nervously, probing for his reaction. 

His expression went from surprised to mouth gaping to frowning all within a span of seconds. 

And you swore if you had a frying pan in your hand when you heard the next sentence spill out from his mouth, you would have smacked him on the head. Hard. 

“Is that MY baby?” 

Oh.

Oh, the accusation. Now you know why he is serving you the divorce paper. 

Something snapped in you. All you see is crimson red. 

From his expression, he clearly knew he shouldn’t have opened his damn stupid mouth. 

“NIKOLAI.” you growled, not bothering to contain your anger. Not caring if the whole apartment building can hear you as you unleash the fury onto him. “IF that is even your real name, I am sure it isn’t.” you jab him on the chest, taking a step closer.“How dare you.” you snared, “How DARE you question my loyalty towards you. Our marriage might be an unconventional one, but I was committed to you. I had no one else but you.” Throwing your arms open wide, gesturing in the air, continuing your verbal assault. “But that doesn’t mean much to you anymore, does it?” you laughed bitterly.” Because you wouldn’t believe any words that come out from my mouth right now, including you not believing this child I am carrying right now is yours.” Giving him the final push to push him further away from the door,  "I was stupid enough to think there might be a chance for the two of us, but, hey! Clearly not! Because I am the naive one that has fallen under your charm and look where it got me. Humiliated. I deserve it, don’t I?”

You feel pang of guilt when you see his contorted face at your retort to his hidden accusation, but the devilish part of you, the fearsome Mini MacTavish, full of fury, didn’t care what his feeling right now would be. 

Turning back into your apartment, you grabbed the pen inside the trinket bowl you kept beside the front door. Pulling the rest of the paperworks out from the envelope, you quickly signed all the required spots that were already marked X, and threw them back into his face. 

“Take the fucken paper, do whatever you want with it. I will be contacting your lawyer to file a restraining order against you. From this moment on, I will have nothing to do with you, and you will have nothing to do with me, or this baby. Since you clearly have given up being in any relationship with them the moment you denied your connection with them.”

Nikolai just stood there, stunned. 

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, this is what you were here for, right?” Yanking the rings off your finger, you threw it into his chest. The ring just bounced off his chest and clanking noises echo through the corridor as it drops onto the concrete floor. “Take this back with you while you are there. Now you can give it to the next woman who is just as dumb as me, to make them  your next victim. Never, ever, show your face in front of me again. Good day.” You spat out at him before slamming the door shut, never giving him a chance to reply. 

You slid down against the door, covering your mouth, but you just couldn't hold back anymore. You let out a strangled whimper before bursting into tears. 

You knew you would regret the moment you agreed to this sham marriage. 

How stupid of you thinking all of the things he promised you are real. 

Regret is a punishment. 

And you will be punishing yourself for a long time with the foolish choice you have made a year ago. 

Gaz fumbled in his pocket looking for his personal phone as it vibrated for the twentieth time. He frowned as he looked at this screen, all these miss calls from you. 

“Soap!” Gaz yelled out over the thundering noise of the helicopter they just disembarked. “Is your phone working???” 

“Perfectly, why?”  Soap yelled out his reply as he finished his conversation with Ghost, ready to head into the building. “Something wrong?” 

“Oh, no. Just… nothing.” Gaz hummed as he thought of all the possibilities of why you were desperately getting in contact with him. Couldn’t be a family emergency, otherwise Soap would be the first person you contact or the Captain for that matter.  

Nevertheless, he better ring you back. 

“KYLE!!!!” The first thing he heard after the call was connected was your crying voice. “He doesn’t love me anymore!!!” you bawled. 

“Wow, wait, wait, what are you talking about?” Gaz was confused. “By him.. I assume you are talking about your husband?Nikolai?” 

“Who else would I be talking about!!! My husband with benefits!!! He doesn’t want me anymore!!” 

“Pardon me?”  Husband with benefits?? Gaz was utterly confused. “Uh, isn’t that just marriage?”

“No!!! It’s different…. Marriage is a marriage… A husband with benefits is not a marriage!” you rambled on. “A husband with benefit is just a husband that give you a good fuck and occasional good time! But marriage is when both of you love each other and you get laid and occasional good times as well… and.. He said he doesn’t love me anymore before I could confess my love to him!!” 

Gaz feels like his head is going to explode. Nothing that came out of your mouth was making any sense. What exactly was going on with you and Nikolai?

“Ok, I am not quite following. You have to explain to me, RIGHT FROM BEGINNING.” He knew there was something going on between you and Nikolai with the sudden announcement of marriage. But this strange event? He couldn’t quite follow. The two of you seem perfectly in love with each other? 

You spilled everything out to him, right from how he accidentally picked you up in front of the apartment, the alleyway incident, the break in, the “marriage”, and now… 

“He is asking for a divorce! And he doesn’t believe the baby is his!!” 

Hold on? Did he miss something?

“Mini.. wait, rewind a bit, what was that bit about the baby?”

“The baby is his!” you sobbed.

“Who’s carrying what baby?” Gaz is secretly hoping what he is hearing isn’t what he is thinking…

“I am pregnant Gaz!! With Nikolai’s baby!” you replied, hiccuping. 

“YOU ARE WHAT?!!!” Gaz screamed, startling everyone in the locker room. Oh shit this is not good. Not good at all, he thought. 

Soap walked past, towel on his shoulder as he was ready to step into the shower. “Is that Mini? What stupid shit has she done this time?”

Oh, won’t call it stupid shit but it's close enough he thought. From all the mess you have just described to him. Ignoring Soap, he quickly put on his clean uniform, forgoing the shower and dash out of the locker room to talk to you in private.

He ended up comforting you over the phone for two hours. By the time he hung up the call, his mind was in such a jumble, he didn't even know where to start. 

“Please, don’t tell Johnny. Or my family. I want to sort this thing out myself first.”

“How?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Fucken steaming jesus.”

“Now you sound like Johnny.”

“Been around him for too long.” 

Well, you only said you can’t tell your family..

Standing in front of the office door, he took a deep breath before giving it three sharp rapid knocks. 

“Come in.” Price’s deep voice answered.

As Gaz enters, he notices the captain has just set his phone down on the desk, sighing.

Brows raised, Gaz silently asks the Captain if things are going okay. 

“I’m fine. Family is fine. What can I do for you?” Price asked Gaz, waving towards the seat on the opposite side of the desk, asking him to sit. 

“Well.. There’s something I promised Mini I wouldn’t tell Soap..” Gaz said, careful with his wordings. He noticed his Captain’s brows shot up as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Well, if it’s regarding her and Nikolai.. “ he replied as he patted his phone on the table. “I just got off the phone with him, that muppet sounded utterly distraught.” 

Gaz snorted. Distraught? What has he got to be distraught about when he was the one that asked for the divorce? “Well, I don’t know why he is all moping and sad when he just ditched his wife and future child.” 

Price froze. 

“What?” 

“What? Oh.” 

Ah shit. 

“Are you sure he will turn up?” Gaz asked as he sipped his beer as he eyes the door. Price hummed as he paid the bartender for the drinks. “ I made sure he will. And speaking of the devil…” 

The door to the pub swung open and a tall man with a buzzcut marched in, dragging a tall, broadly-built and dishevelled-looking man in tow.

“Yuri.” Price greeted Nikolai’s second in command. “Thank you for the help.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Yuri replied as he positioned a moody and already half drunk Nikolai onto the bar stool. “Sick of this идиот slumping about and crying about his wife and not being able to do anything. If you can, sort him out. Whack some sense into him.” 

“My Lastochka.. I am sorry….” Nikolai mumbled as he slump against the bar table, lamenting. “I shouldn’t have let you go… I’m sorry…” he raised his head, trying to steady himself to focus on Price with his blurry bloodshot eyes. 

“John… how did I fuck up so bad?”

“ You only got yourself to ask, don’t you? You did not heed my warning. Now, face the consequences. From what I have heard, you deserve it.” Price grunted as he took a sip of his drink. “You should consider yourself lucky she hasn’t set Soap and Ghost after you.” 

"I did what I had to do! To set her free.. from my cage.. she deserves to find her own happiness. She seems happier with someone else… " Nikolai retorted, trying to justify his action. 

Gaz, unsympathetic towards the sulking Russian man in front of him, snarled at him as he slammed down his glass of beer. “Well, too late isn’t it? Blindsided her, not giving her a chance to explain and accusing her of something that she would never do, now you are lamenting about the mistake?” Gaz leaned forward a bit more, ready to get physical. 

“Gaz.” Price grabbed Gaz's shoulder, trying to hold him back. As much as the urge of giving his friend some slap on the head himself for shattering your heart, he needs to stay level headed, to talk some sense into him. 

“Captain. Let me finish.” Gaz shrugs off Price’s hand, as he grabs hold of Nikolai’s collar. “Do you know how much she adores you? Everytime we catch up, she can't stop talking about you.  Nikolai this, Nikolai that. I need to find a new recipe for Nikolai. I need to go home early because Nikolai is coming over.” Gaz snorted. “Clearly that goes all over your head. Meaningless. Just someone you used as pleasure and dumped away as you pleased.” 

Gaz let go of Nikolai’s collar, and the man slumped back onto the table, not replying, but grabbed Price’s glass of whisky and proceeded to scull it all down, trying to drown and numb his own pain in alcohol. 

Clearly from what he gathered from Gaz and bits from Nikolai when he could talk coherently, there is still hope between you and Nikolai.

He wants to see his friend out of misery. He wants to see you happy,someone he loves dearly almost as a daughter, someone who he watched growing from a shy teenage girl into a fine mature woman.

The feeling is still there. Neither of you wanted to admit or let it go completely. They need to do something.

“I got a plan.” 

“You sure this is a wise idea Captain?” Gaz asked, worryingly. “Last I heard she was filing a restraining order against him.” The three men dragged almost unconscious Nikolai up flights of staircases of the apartment. “Plus I don’t want to face the fury of a pregnant woman… it wasn’t much fun when I experienced it last time…”Gaz shivered as he recalled the memory of his sister, in her final stage of pregnancy, fully blasting at him for a little mistake ( well, he admitted it was his fault.). Yuri nodded his head fast, clearly agreeing.

Three of them decided the best course of action, with the persuasion of Price, even if it’s breaking the law and your wishes, was to let the two of you talk it out, face to face, for one final time. 

“I don’t think either of our team will have a moment of peace if we don’t get this over with." Price grunted as he dropped the deadweight body of Nikolai in front of the door. "I'll bear the consequences if this doesn't work out." He jerks his head towards your apartment, giving him the go ahead. 

"Ok here goes nothing." Gaz recites a silent prayer as he presses the call button on his phone. Few seconds later he could hear the faint sound of your phone ringing from the otherside of the door, and the muffled sound of you mumbling before answering the call, sounding tired and drained. He must have woken you up. 

"What's going on for you to ring this late?” you yawned. “Wait, did something happen to Johnny?? Or the team?" Your voice raised with anxiousness. 

“Everyone is alright, don’t panic, um,” Gaz shot a look at both Price and Yuri. “Could you.. Open your front door please? I am just outside.” 

Your apartment door opens up immediately. “Kyle! Why… oh, Captain, um, Yuri too?” 

you looked down as your foot accidently kicked Nikolai's body on the ground, expression turned from surprised to horrified to anger.

“Kyle.” you took a deep breath in, piqued by your best friend’s deception. “You know I don’t want to see his face again.” you then proceed to turn towards Price and Yuri. “and you two!! 

“His idea.” Yuri just pointed at Price, unapologetic for dobbing him in. 

Price held up both of his hands,defending himself. “You two need to talk. Let him explain himself. Give him a chance.” 

You snorted. Giving Nikolai’s unmoving body a slight tap with your toe. “Well, if this piece of haggis is still breathing. Then maybe.”  

“Good! Problem solved! Ok, then we leave the two of you be.” Gaz quickly took a step back, tucking both men on each side, ready for retreat. 

“Wait!!!” you called out, pointing at your stomach. “Are you three going to leave a pregnant woman to try carrying this deadweight into the apartment??” 

Nikolai slowly opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling. 

But it’s not his own apartment.  But a place he thought he would never set his foot in again. 

How did he get here?? 

Running his hand down his face as he slowly adjusted his position on the couch, letting the blanket that was draping over his body slowly slide down onto the floor, trying to get a sense of things. 

“Finally awake?” 

His head snapped up as he heard your voice. He took a sharp breath in as he slowly took your feature in.

His head is reeling from both hungover and the sight of you, someone he missed and hasn't seen in a few months. 

There you are, standing behind the couch, with a steaming hot mug, with an irritated expression on your face. 

And your stomach. Raised bump can be seen even with the loose fitting lounge wear you are currently in. 

Busting in pregnancy glow.

His beautiful Lastochka. Carrying a life within you. 

His child. 

You step forward and pass the hot mug into his hand, only letting go after you made sure he wouldn’t spill the content onto himself with his unsteady hand. 

“I know you are not a fan of ginger. But this will help you with the hangover.” you commented before walking away towards the kitchen again, fixing yourself a drink. 

He slowly took a sip, frowning slightly at the smell and taste of ginger, followed by the tangy taste of lemon,sweetness of honey.. And..

Raspberry jam. 

Similar to the way to the drink he made for you when you were struck down by sickness months ago.  

He took another sip, trying to swallow the bit of sadness that is surfacing up. He can’t crumble in front of you. He can’t show his weakness.  

Distracting himself, he looked around the apartment. That is when he notices all the packing boxes that are haphazardly lying around. 

“... you moving?” he asked, voice husky from dehydration and being hungover. 

Walking back towards the couch area as you stir your own drink, you replied, “I am. Going to move in with my parents back in Scotland. My boss is gracious enough to let me work remotely, and only needs to be physically present for a few times a year afterwards.”  you gripped your mug before continuing. “I’ll be out of your neck in no time. You wouldn’t need to  see my face again for hopefully forever after.” 

“Lastochka…” he starts speaking, brain trying to catch up to the fact that you were going to move away from this country, away from him. 

“Don’t call me that.” you replied coldly. Nikolai never felt fear like this before. Not even when he was faced with the prospect of death, looking down the barrel of the enemy's gun.  “You have lost your right to call me the day you decided to turn your back on me and your child.” you spat out the last few words, anger started to rise. “Price and two others tried to convince me to talk to you, but why? Give me one bloody damn good reason why I should even bother!” 

“Please just let me explain…” Nikolai begged as he sat up more from the couch. “I was wrong, I was stupid enough thinking you were happier with someone else. Convince myself you don’t love me.”

“Did you even give me a chance to explain at all?’ you growled. Nikolai opened his mouth, and closed it. “No you didn’t. You make assumptions everytime I try to explain, cutting me off. Coming to your own conclusion.” blowing out air from your nose like an angry bull, ready to charge into fight. “You could have me, Nikolai. I loved you. I was going to tell you that the night you denied me.” Tears start to stream down your face as you try hard to let the emotion get the better of you, to no avail. “But it’s too late. Finish that drink and get out of my face.” 

You turned away from him, not daring to look at his distraught face.

This is for the best. For both of you.

For you and the baby. 

A sharp pain struck you all of sudden. Holding your stomach, you let out a yelp as you dropped to your knees, spilling the hot drink in your hand onto the carpet in the process.

Nikolai quickly stood up, jumping over the couch and kneeling beside you. 

“What’s wrong lasto…. Mini, tell me what is wrong? Are you feeling pain? Is the baby ok?”

Shaking your head, you try hard to control your breathing. He quickly scoop you up into his arm, into a bridal carry. 

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he declared.

“You are NOT taking me to hospital.” you replied as you grit your teeth, cold sweat running down your forehead. “Just call my obgyn first before you do anything.”

“You are a stubborn little thing.” he growled, getting irritated by your stubbornness. “I am taking you to the hospital NOW, no matter what you say.” 

He grabbed your phone and key and ran down the stairs at lightning speed, with you in his arms. As he burst through the door onto the street, ready to hi-jack a bypassing car, he spotted a familiar figure a few metres away.

Nikolai was surprised to see that Gaz was leaning against a car, playing on his phone. “Uh, totally not stalking you two.. Was going to take you two out for brunch…wait, what’s wrong with Mini??” Gaz stopped when he saw you in Nikolai’s arm, in pain. 

“What are you doing here Gaz?! Nevermind, you got your car? Take us to the hospital.” Nikolai piled into the car without waiting for a reply, as he held you tight in the backseat. 

“Kyle… make sure you drive slowly.. Don’t drive like a maniac … Like Nikolai..because you are not from Russia….” you squeeze out a joke. 

Both of them turned to look at you with an incurious expression. “ Seriously Mini? Not a great time..” Gaz tutted as he turned his attention back towards the front, ready to attack the road. “ but I can relate…. But in a helicopter.. Piloted by him…”

“Hey! You survived though. So did I. Ugh my head…” you chuckled nervously, now feeling headache joining the discomfort. 

“Ok now shut up and just drive. We can discuss my skills later.” Nikolai ordered Gaz, unamused, not impressed with the two of you arguing away in an emergency situation.

Gaz let out a huff as he stepped on the accelerator.

“Now, looking at the result of the tests and exams, the baby is growing healthy and normal. You are just under too much stress and fatigue.” The doctor turns to Nikolai. “You shouldn’t have let your wife… “

“Ex-wife.” you corrected. 

“Wife.” Nikolai replies, in turn correcting you. 

"Ex-husband with benefits."

"Wife I pick up on the side of the road."

The doctor gave the two of you a confused look. “Alright, Wife and maybe ex-wife, or whatever the endearment you use to call each other, to be under so much stress. She needs to pull herself back a bit, if she is going to survive through the rest of the pregnancy. Now I’ll go file some paperwork first before discharging you. In the meantime, relax.” the doctor gave you a pointed look and warned, and left the two of you alone in the room. 

“What is the meaning of this Nikolai?” you questioned him, confused by his previous answer about the marital status. “ I thought we signed the paperwork and everything was finalised?” 

“YOU signed the paperwork. I haven’t.” he said. “I never.. I never submitted the divorce paper. It’s still sitting in my office. In the corner. Gathering dust.” Running a hand over his face, confessing the truth. 

“Oh.” you don’t know how to reply to this new development. “Um. I did get around to taking out a restraining order against you though.”

“... Oh.” 

“So you are actually breaking the law. Few times. Already.” you pointed out, slightly guilty. Technically he didn’t come to your apartment willingly, but was literally dragged and dumped onto your doorstep. “But that is not the biggest problem here. Why? Why with all the trouble serving me with the divorce paper, and not submitting it?” you questioned him as you mentally swatting that slight glitter of hope in the back of your mind.

“After seeing your reaction that night, I thought.. I thought I might be wrong about my assumption..” Nikolai whispered.

“No shit.” you snorted. “Like I said before, you never gave me a chance to explain, and accused me of sleeping with other people and trying to pass the baby as yours? Utterly insulting Nikolai. Humiliating.” 

“ I am sorry.” he muttered, head hung down in shame. 

“You should be.” You jabbed his hand. Sighing you turned your attention towards the slightly opened door. You can just see Gaz hovering about in the corridor, trying to be a sticky beak. You gave him a glare and he silently apologised with a smile before closing the door, giving you and Nikolai some privacy. 

“Nik." You gently reach out to touch his hand, he slowly raises his head back up, looking at you with sad puppy eyes. Almost reminds you of Johnny when he gets caught doing something wrong. "If I didn’t have any tiny ounce of feeling for you at all from the beginning, I wouldn’t have agreed to the union. Even if it’s for mutual benefits.”

“very good mutual benefits.”

“Shut up.” you smack his hand this time. “Let me finish.” He closed his mouth immediately, obeying you this time. 

Taking a deep breath in, you finally make the confession you were supposed to months ago. 

“Nikolai, or whatever your name is, if you are going to tell me one day. I love you. I do love you, still. Even after all the turmoils you put me through.” you look down at the jointed hand. “I was bitter, I was angry, I was drowning in sorrow. But I just couldn’t let you go. I realised I have fallen for you too deep, to jump out of it completely." 

“My life has been turned upside down the day I met you on the side of the road. almost kidnapped, assassinated, my ass shot at."Nikolai clicks his tongue and starts mumbling curses at König as he remembers the day your ass got damaged.

You ignored him and continued on."But would you believe even with those crazy things happening, I had the best time of my life. With you by my side." 

"Lastochka.." he murmured,testing the water. His eyes brightened at your confession. His hand slowly glides up towards your stomach, giving in a light caress before making its way up towards your face, cupping your cheeks. 

"I must be fucken off my head to let you back into my life. These damn pregnancy hormones." You rolled your eyes as you let out an exaggerated sigh."Consider this your lucky day that your daughter helped to save her Papa from being kicked into the dog house permanently." You huffed out.

Nikolai's smile couldn't be any brighter. 

" Are we having a girl?? Humm maybe I need few of the crews to station around her so no pests will come and take her away from me and taint her…"

"NIKOLAI." You stared at him with an unimpressed expression." You are thinking way too far ahead. She is still a foetus."

"Forward planning, my little bird. One can never be too careful." 

You chuckled. " and that is one quality I love about you."

His smile softened as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, before closing the gap for a kiss. 

Your hand grasped around his gold chain as he deepened the kiss. You felt a familiar object dangling at the end of it. Is that….

“The wedding ring and band?” you whispered as you broke the kiss, looking down at the two rings attached to the chain. 

“I have it with me all the time, Lastochka.” he said as he unhook the chain from his neck, taking the two rings out. “hanging onto that little bit of hope of winning you back some day, to beg for forgiveness. To be together with you again.”

“Well,you did… ” 

“ successfully,” he interjected, proudly. 

“Shush. I still haven't fully forgiven you. You still have a lot of things to make up for."

He stood up from the chair, and proceeded to kneel in front of the hospital cot, with his signature cocky smirk that you miss so much.

“Well, as a start, my lovely Lastochka, would you marry me? Again? For your own protection? And for love?”

“ Just put that ring onto my finger. You bampot.”  

“Got a visual, Commander. They are walking out right now.” The voice crackled through Nikolai’s earpiece, confirming his worst fear. 

Snatching the binocular off Yuri’s hand, he let out a snarl as he spotted the targets. He is going to get rid of the threat once for all. 

“All teams on standby.” Nikolai commanded. Reaching for his weapon on his side. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea Commander?” Yuri asked, slightly worried. “What if she finds out.. What if both of them find out…” 

“It’s for the best. I will bear the consequences.” 

There is no way he’s going to let him take his precious little dove away. It’s enough that his father injured his Lastochka, there is no way he is letting his son do the same…

Suddenly he felt a chill running down his spine. Quickly spinning around, Nikolai’s eyes widened. 

“Bear what consequences? Humm? Nikolai? Care to explain?” You stood there, arms crossed , with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

“Lastochka… I can explain…” Nikolai held both of his hands up, ready to defend himself from your onslaught. You grabbed his shoulder and leaned forward as you narrow your eyes “are you spying on Anya again????” you asked. 

“Look.. if you just let me…”

“.... we’ve been breached. I repeat, we are breached by an unexpected intruder, all unit ready to exfil.” you snap your head around towards Yuri as he radios the rest of the Chimera soldiers, sweat starts running down his forehead. 

“YURI. Don’t you dare. Just wait until I tell your wife…” you warned him. 

Another voice joined in. “PAPA!!!!” Anya yelled out as she spotted you and the rest of the team. “I told you not to follow me! Again!” 

“Again??” The tall young man beside her asked, totally confused. 

Anya pouted, and proceeded to explain to her date. “Papa always stalks me whenever I go out on a date! Scaring everyone away…“

“Look my Облачко, Papa is trying to protect you!!! This Сволочь doesn’t deserve you…” Nikolai cooed as he talked to his daughter, trying to convince her of the evilness of the boy standing beside her.

“How dare you call my son a bastard?” A loud booming voice joined in the conversation, anger by the insult. “If it wasn’t for the sake of your wife standing here…”

You buried your face in your hand as you groaned, where the hell did König pop out from?? You seriously don’t need any more complication from this already bizarre situation. 

“Looks like we need to settle this argument, by force. Again.” Nikolai took a step closer to the Giant Austrian, taunting.

“I agree.” König tilted his head up, cocking his eyebrow. “Paintball?”

“Paintball it is.” 

“Your team free next Friday?” 

“Let's see..”Nikolai took his phone out, checking the schedule.  “Oh no, we are out on a mission.. How about Saturday, three weeks from now?”

“Oh good good. My wife will be free too. Hey Mini, can you bake something to bring along? We can organise a picnic during lunch break for everyone.” König turned towards you, already typing out messages to his team and his wife. 

Oh fucken steaming jesus. Not again…

“Ma…”Anya tucking your sleeve. “What the hell is happening??Why are they organising paintball matches all of sudden?”

You sighed. “Well.. let me tell you a story..how your Ma gets into this mess with your Papa and your uncles and aunties..”

The unlucky incidents.

The string of coincidences.

The strange but lovely life of Mini MacTavish. 

...... and Mini's ass got shot again.

Well, this is the end.

In @siilvan's words, this series started off from a taxi meme and turned into a mini unhinge crack series. and turned angst. I don't know what I was thinking.

Thanks for sticking with me peeps. I hope you all enjoyed the strange and unhinge series. it was a lot of fun to write, and maybe someday i'll come up with offshoots to this strange series.

Taglist :

@homicidal-slvt @nrdmssgs @siilvan @roosterr@preciouslittlecreature @bravosierra6 @gamergirlbones@whydoilikewhump @alypink @ashwasherelol @okayyadriana @liyanahelena @miyabilicious @caramlizedtomatoes @deadbranch @celshideout @merkitty49 @abbeyrjm-blog @shyravenns @okamimarta

[acewritesfics]

Wanting A Baby | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader

Request: no.

Warnings: talks of having a baby. fluff.

Word Count: 845

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N sits nervously at Tommy's desk, her leg bouncing up and down as anxiety courses through her veins. "All you have to say is, Tommy, after three years of marriage, it's time to think about starting a family again," She murmurs to herself, her mind racing with the various scenarios of what can happen, despite the fact that there are only two possible outcomes. He accepts, and they begin trying for a baby. Or he objects, denying her the right to become a mother. 

"Tommy, I want a child," she declares to the empty room, trying to think of a suitable way to tell her husband she's ready for the family they anticipated to have before they were married. 

She was amazed it hadn't happened yet, given how many hours they spent with their bodies intertwined with one another's. 

In their three-year marriage, they haven't yet discussed having children. Not after the miscarriage they had a week before their wedding. Miscarriages frequently tear couples apart, but not Y/N and Tommy. The love that the two have for one other is strong enough to overcome any hardship. They've loved one other since they were five years old, and their love only gets stronger with each passing day. 

Hearing the front door open and slam shut with a loud bang, she stands up from the chair behind Tommy's desk, her hands overlapping across her stomach as her nerves intensify. She feels like she's about to vomit as she moves in front of the large desk, waiting for her husband to find her. 

"Y/N?" She hears him call her name. "Where have you gone, Love?" 

"In the office, Sweetheart," she responds, trying to mask her nervousness with her normal manner. Taking deep breaths in and out to calm herself, she hears his loud footsteps reach the room where he spends the most of his time at home. 

"Good evening, my darling wife," the handsome man says, kissing her cheek before settling into the leather chair.  

Y/N was more than Tommy's wife; she was also his secretary and the person he trusted the most in this world. She's been in his office without him, and he's never had a cause to wonder why. When she doesn't say anything, he stares at her with concern, her eyes downcast as if she's trying not to look at him, her fingers twisting the fabric of her top. "What's wrong?" 

His query appears to startle her out of her thoughts, and she raises her head to address him. "There's nothing wrong, Tommy." 

"Then why the long face, Y/N?" he questions, still looking at her with concern. 

"Everything is perfect," she says, "or almost perfect." 

"What are you on about?" He's now perplexed. 

"Thomas," she says as she takes a deep breath in and out. "There is something we need to discuss." 

"All right," he replies, encouraging her to continue. 

She pauses for a few seconds before saying the four words she's been wanting to say for the last month. "I want a baby." 

Tommy's face is expressionless, his magnificent sparkling blue eyes unblinking, and his lips remained in a straight line. When Tommy didn't respond as she had anticipated, she began to think that she should have kept her mouth shut. She was expecting him to be delighted or enraged. But she received nothing, not even a clench of the jaw. 

"Forget I said anything," she mumbles, disappointed and embarrassed. He gently takes hold of her arm as she prepares to leave the office and turns her around so she can face him. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, as if he wants to be sure it's what she actually wants. 

She nods her. "Above all else, Tommy. It's all that's left for us. We now have a good stable marriage, financial stability, and a large, beautiful home that is starting to feel empty. All we need is an heir, a child to love and care for, a child to chase around the back garden, and to fill an empty room, and to complete our family." 

"I want it as well," he confesses. 

Y/N can't stop the broad grin from spreading across her face as her arms fly around her husband's shoulders, enveloping the Shelby man in a strong embrace. Tears flow down her cheeks as she silently prays to God, thanking him and asking that they not have to wait long for a small life to begin growing inside her. 

Y/N pulls back from Tommy so that she can look at him. "I love you so much, Mr Shelby." 

"I love you even more, Mrs Shelby," he replies as he wipes her tears away before kissing her. 

He breaks the kiss way too soon for his wife's liking, a smile on his handsome face as one of his hands glides to her stomach. "So, should I try putting a baby in there now or after supper?" 

Instead of using words, she answers by crushing her lips against his, kissing him passionately as her hands reach for his belt to unbuckle it. 

[abbyromanoff]

Hi! Can I request G!P natasha x R where Nat retired after they got married. However, Nat got a call from steve saying she's needed in the avengers and Nat says yes. She did not consider R's feelings and when she came back, she found out that R had a miscarriage due to stress. :(

I WISH I COULD SAY IM SORRY

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,538

WARNINGS: angst, kinda happy ending, stressful encounters, Nat being neglectful, pregnancies, miscarriages, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Y/N, we’ve talked about this,” Nat proclaimed with a sigh, and her gaze was unable to meet yours. Her voice was low, as if she was tired of the topic.

“No, you talked about it, I haven’t got to put my input on any of this! I am due in less than a month, and you want to fucking leave?” She threw her clothes loosely into her bag, and her eyes squeezed shut in irritation. She tied her hair up, removing it from her view while her body began to tense.

“I don’t have a choice, this is my job.”

“And I’m nothing? I’m your wife, Natasha, your wife. You decided to marry me, in sickness and in hell, you remember?”

“Of course, I remember-“

“No, no you don’t. Because you promised me, you promised in your vows that you would never leave my side, and you’re leaving? When I am carrying your child, you want to leave for a mission that anyone else could take?”

“It’s not that simple, my qualifications are required for this.”

“What about Tony, huh? He has a suit of armor, he has blasts that come out of his hand for fucks sake. Or Steve and Bucky, who have super soldier serum? Or Wanda, who has the power to defeat the entire world if she wants to. But you’re needed? You have fists and weapons, sure you have some of the best skills known to mankind, but they will always have more than you. They got lucky, Nat. You’re stuck with the skills you learned, and they have enchantments you don’t, they could easily do anything.” She bit her lip, and her head began swarming with your words. They were better than her, and they always would be. Even in your eyes, they were better.

“I’m needed, Y/N, and my job will always be more important than you are. I will see you in a week, goodbye.” She left without the words ‘I love you’ even leaving her, and you knew that was the end of this discussion, and possibly your relationship. You felt so idiotic, maybe you overreacted? Why would you say that? You knew she had more skills than her coworkers, you were just being selfish in asking if she could stay. You tried texting her apologies, but they went unread.

While you began your episode of sulking, Nat began hers of distraction. She felt so weak hearing you say it, and her insecurities began getting the best of her. Wanda and you had always been close, too close for her liking; but you always told her she had nothing to worry about, that she was simply just a friend and nothing more. But Wanda was stronger than her, she had the ability to defeat all of mankind, but Nat didn’t. Nat could barely even keep you happy, and she knew Wanda made you happier. Wanda was like your break, and your wife was the one making you need a break. And while that was nowhere near the truth in your mind, it was in hers.

The mission continued with little word from Nat, and the stress began taking over. You were filled with worry, and panic, and Nat wasn’t there to relieve that. No, she was the one causing it. You wanted to hate her, how could she leave you like this? But you didn’t just blame her, you blamed yourself. How could you be so stupid? How could you let your emotions get the best of you and belittle her strength when knowing that was her weak spot? You weren’t deserving of her, but that didn’t mean she had to leave you to rot alone.

The only hope you had was Nathan, the baby boy resting in your stomach. And you thought it would be impossible to lose him too, but when you woke with your sheets covered in blood, your crotch the same, you had a gut feeling that this was the last of it. Nat said she would always be here for you, but now she was gone, and you could only hope your child didn’t have the same fate. And while you wanted to have faith, you began picturing the hardships of losing him, and it caused your eyes to blur the entire ride to the hospital. It wasn’t far, and Wanda was on the phone the entire time to console you while ensuring she would be there as soon as possible, it felt as though seconds were hours, and days were months.

“I’m so scared, Wanda, I can’t lose my little boy.” Her heart shattered the worse your thoughts became, and she couldn’t deny that hers were beginning to stir as well.

“You’re not going to lose him, Y/N.”

“You don’t know that.” There was a small beat of silence before her wounded voice arrived once more.

“No, I don’t. But I want to believe it.”

“Nat, you need to get your ass home now. Y/N had to go into emergency labor, they didn’t allow me in but you need to man up and fucking get here already.” You were brought into surgery instantly, and they began performing a c-section in a desperate hope to save the child. Nat’s eyes widened when hearing the news, and in less than minutes she was stirring the Quinjet in your direction. It took less than an hour before she was there, and by the time she was, Wanda was no longer in the waiting room. She stormed in, lips failing to produce the words she wanted to say until Wanda stood, and Nat could tell by the look she gave that she wasn’t going to be receiving positive words.

“Where’s my boy?” Wanda looked down and gulped the tears back, wiping her cheek from the ones that chose to appear. “Where is Nathan, Wanda? Where’s my baby boy?” Tears of her own began to form, and she tried forcing them to stay at bay, but they quickly began streaming down her face.

“She had a miscarriage, The Doctor said all the stress got to her, and, uhm, the baby died, Natasha.” She put her hands on her hips, and Nat nearly broke entirely. It felt like her entire life was coming down on her, and the realization that it was her fault sunk in. She was the one to cause your pain, your stressing mind, and it was what caused the death of her child. She was a killer to her own family.

“I…”

“Don’t, Nat, it’s best you don’t say anything. You already hurt them enough, they don’t deserve this from you.” Nat decided to stay until you woke, but you begged her to go away. She cried by your side, apologies and pleas leaving her tightening throat, but you continued to stay strong in your choice. Wanda forced her to leave, and while you cried to yourself over the grief of your loves, Wanda began digging into Nat. She yelled, pushing the woman back until they stood outside, and Nat was deemed as too weak to fight back.

“They don’t need you, Natasha, and I certainly don’t need to see you, either. So you decide, you leave on your own, or I’ll force you to your fucking grave myself.” Nat paused, and while she was turning to leave, she suddenly stopped.

“You love them, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You love Y/N.”

“Of course, I do-“

“No, you love them. You’re in love with my wife, aren’t you?”

“Alright, maybe I do, what’s the problem with that? You weren’t there for them, Nat, and guess what; I was the one to swoop in and save the day once again. And watching them run back to you time and time again fucking destroyed me and I’m not letting them make the same mistake again. I don’t care if they love me or not, I will continue to do so and I will continue to show it until the moment I die. So, please, do us all a favor and leave, they’re better off without you.”

Nat didn’t come back, but she watched you from the shadows each day. And one single day stuck out to her. She was sitting in the park, a cap on her head and a book that she hurried her face in. She knew you’d be here, but she didn’t expect Wanda to be there as well. Her eyes widened at the baby carriage you pushed around and the growing stomach. She watched Wanda put her arm around your waist protectively while she glanced with a smile at the young toddler and the soon-to-be child inside of you. Nat’s face fell, and for a moment she pictured herself in the witch's spot.

But then she realized, she used to be the one doing so, she used to be the one holding you and glancing down at what was going to be her baby boy, but you never looked as happy as you did. Maybe it was because of the addition to your small family, or maybe it was because you finally chose the right woman.

And now Nat knew she would forever be stuck as your first love, but someone else would be your last.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This chapter also has some suggestive themes and language

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 20

[Prev] [Next]

Law’s grip on your sweaty hand was grounding for you as you fidgeted in your seat.  Across the table from the two of you in the tiny medical conference room was Robin, who was silently shuffling through papers in front of her.  The room was so silent you could almost pick out the sound of the clock hands ticking away each passing second, each interval seeming to grow longer and longer.  You anxiously bit the inside of your cheek as you watched your doctor diligently sort through your comprehensive patient history.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally looked up.  “I think IVF will be a good method to try.  The success rate for women with endometriosis successfully conceiving and carrying to term with IVF is much higher than going without.  Additionally, you have undergone some treatment for your condition, which improves your chances much more substantially.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the tension seeming to roll off of your shoulders.  You glanced up at Law beside you, whose face was contorted in confusion.  The sight made you stifle a chuckle.

“Sorry, can you, uhm… explain what IVF is?” he asked Robin.  “Sorry I’m a bit useless with gynecological stuff.”

The question made Robin smile, appreciating his candidness.  “Of course, Law.  IVF stands for in vitro fertilization.  It’s a procedure where a mature egg is fertilized outside of the body and is then implanted into the uterus, thereby increasing chances of successful conception and embryo growth.  Of course, that’s the layman’s version of it.  But once I have your official go-ahead, I will explain in much greater detail.”

You could see the gears turning in your husband’s head, making you grin.  You loved the way he was clearly dissecting the mental image of what Robin had just explained.  He silently nodded.

“I would like to go through with it,” you affirmed.  “If it will increase our chances, then I’ll do anything.”

Robin organized your patient files in front of her, a content grin on her lips.  “I’m delighted to hear that.  If you’re ready, we can begin discussing the full process, since I imagine you would like to begin as soon as you possibly can.”

You eagerly nodded.  “Yes, absolutely.”

Law was counting in his head.  “How long has it been since the last miscarriage?”  He was growing so nervous in the stifling room that he was losing track of time.  You started to worry that he might be the one to pass out this time.

“Almost six months, I think,” you answered, rubbing the surface of your glass ring with your thumb.

Robin nodded.  “I believe that’s correct.  That’s a good amount of time for your body to heal, so you should be ready to conceive again with little issue.”  The black-haired woman reached into her bag in the chair beside her and procured her laptop, opening the device and clicking through a few windows.  “Are you okay if we begin discussing the procedure?”

“Yes I am,” you confirmed.  Law nodded beside you.

“Perfect.  The entire process could take anywhere between six to eight weeks, so I want you to be prepared for that waiting period.  Because, trust me, there will be a lot of waiting,” she explained.  She turned her computer around, displaying an illustrated diagram of a uterus and ovary.  She used her finger to point around the screen.  “I’m sure you’re more than familiar with what you’re looking at, so I won’t have to explain the anatomy.  We’ll monitor your menstruation cycle briefly, and then the process will begin with ovarian stimulation, which alone can last anywhere from eight to fourteen weeks.  This will ensure that multiple eggs can grow to maturity, instead of just one.  We will most likely use an injectable hormone medication for you, considering your condition.  Are you following?”

You once again nodded your head, laser focused on her words as her fingers moved around the diagram.  “Following.”  You weren’t so sure about Law, but you thought somewhere in that thick head of his he was absorbing your doctor’s long-winded explanation.

“Alright.  After ovarian stimulation, we’ll be monitoring your eggs while they’re still in your body every few days to ensure they are maturing properly with the medication.  36 hours before the retrieval, you’ll be given what’s called a “trigger shot,” to stimulate your eggs to complete maturation.  Egg retrieval will be done as a minimally invasive procedure, so you will be put under general anesthesia, but the process is quite short.  A suction tube will be inserted through your vagina with the help of an ultrasound, and a small needle will be placed through the tube to puncture your ovary and extract a small amount of mature eggs.  The eggs are stored on a petri dish and placed in an incubator to prepare them for fertilization.”

“Kind of like chicken eggs,” you joked.

Robin snapped her fingers with a chuckle.  “That’s a good comparison.  Once they’re ready to be fertilized, a single sperm will be injected into each egg on the dish.  It’s likely that not all the eggs will successfully be fertilized, but having the multitude of mature eggs greatly increases the chances that at least one will form an embryo.  You’ll have to wait a few days while the embryos develop on the dish, but once they have progressed far enough, they will be able to be transferred.  You also have the option to freeze unused fertilized embryos, in case you want to conceive again in the future.”

You and Law nodded along with her words.

“The embryo transfer itself is a very quick procedure, similar to a pap smear.  A speculum will be inserted into the vagina, and a catheter will be used to insert one or more of the fertilized embryos into your uterus.  Your body will usually take care of the embryo from there, having it latch to your uterine wall and form a placenta.  After about 14 days, we’ll give you a blood test that will determine if the pregnancy was successful.  If it is, then we’ll go about the usual pregnancy monitoring.  If not, we try again after a few menstrual cycles.  Understood?”

You and your husband leaned back in your chairs, taking deep breaths.  The explanation of the process was almost as exhausting as actually carrying out the procedure, but something in your chest told you that this was a good idea.  You had a giddy feeling develop deep within, almost begging you to go through with the long, arduous process, somehow promising that it would be worth it.

“I understand.  I want to go through with it,” you once again confirmed.

Robin smiled, amused by your willingness.  “I’m happy to hear that, we’ll be there constantly to support you and monitor your progress.  Let’s officially begin the process in a week.  We’ll need to do a comprehensive full blood panel, infectious disease screening for both of you, an evaluation of your reproductive system, and a male fertility test.  It’s just a formality,” she explained.

Law became slightly rigid in his seat, alerting your attention.  He appeared nervous as he asked, “Will I have to go back to the fertility clinic?”

Robin looked confused at his question.  “Yes, is there a problem with that?”

You thought briefly about why your husband would be so uncomfortable with returning to the clinic, until a sudden memory flashed into your brain.  The sight of Law, hunched over your kitchen counter with his head in his hands, guilt plaguing his entire being as he informed you he couldn’t ejaculate into the cup at the fertility clinic until he watched 15 minutes of porn on his phone with the volume as low as it could go.  You had laughed at his misery then, and you had to fight your entire body to hold in your laugh now.

Law quickly shook his head, collecting himself.  “No, no problem at all.”

The gynecologist’s eyebrow tilted up in confusion, but she dropped the subject as she wrote a list of instructions on a piece of paper before handing it to you.  “Take this to the reception desk to schedule your appointment for next week.  Most of the tests on you we can perform in this clinic, but your blood panel will have to be done at the outpatient laboratory.  I’m also going to file a prescription for estrogen patches so we can begin regulating your cycle.  Once all your tests are done and approved, we can proceed to the next step!”

You enthusiastically took the paper from her, reading over her guidelines and dates.  You smiled at your doctor, standing when she did and shaking her hand cordially.  “Thank you so much, Dr. Robin, I really appreciate it!”

“Of course, I’m more than happy to be able to help you two with this.  I’ll see you next week, alright?” she asked as she gathered her papers and laptop into her bag, preparing to leave the room and let you two continue on with your day.

You and Law gave her an affirmative nod as you departed, your husband following you like a lost dog to the reception desk so you could schedule your next appointments.  The only thing in his mind at that moment, however, was the dread of returning to the fertility clinic.  He did not want to have to deal with Dr. Franky again next week.

—

“HEYYYY, TRAFALGAR!  It’s good to see you again, welcome back!”

The booming voice of Dr. Franky made Law wince as the giant man entered the small room, another clear plastic cup clutched in his abnormally large hand.  The cardiac surgeon looked at the fertility doctor differently now that he knew that your gynecologist was this man’s wife.  What a small world.

“How are those swimmers doing, huh?” the blue-haired doctor asked, a bright smile on his face as he plopped himself down in the swiveling stool that rested below the medical counter.  He clacked a few times on his keyboard, looking up Law’s patient info.  “Here for another sperm sample, I see.”

“Just part of a protocol,” Law muttered, his face growing red with shame.

“Ahh, got it, got it.”  Dr. Franky nodded a few times as he typed.

Law felt his phone buzz a few times in his pocket, but ignored the urge to reach in and check his device while the boisterous man was in the room.

“Well, you know the drill!  Just–”

“I know, Doctor, I know…” Law mumbled, fighting the reflex of pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

With a pout, Franky passed over the clear cup, gave his regards, and left Law alone in the room.  Finally surrounded by silence, the man slipped his phone out of his pocket to see who had texted him during his brief yet horrendously awkward discussion with the fertility doctor.  His spirits immediately brightened upon seeing your name on the screen, followed by slight confusion upon reading your messages.

Wifey

Good luck at the clinic today baby!!!

Wifey

Thought these might help you ;)

Wifey

[3 Image Attachments]

Wifey

[1 Video Attachment]

Wifey

See you later darling <3

Law felt his face grow heated upon seeing the images you had sent him.  Suffice to say, he was not expecting it.

But his wife’s beautiful body was always worlds better than porn.

—

“Hey, I’m home!” you called into your apartment, kicking off your shoes.  The excited tapping sounds of Bepo greeted you, your cloud of a dog skidding across the floor into your entryway, his bushy tail wagging a mile a minute while his pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he smiled up at you.  “Look who’s happy to see me!”

“Hey, hon,” Law called from around the corner, leaning against the wall as he watched you be smothered by the thick, billowing fur of your four-legged baby.  He had a smirk on his face as you stood to greet him, a surprised gasp leaving your throat as he grabbed your arms in his calloused hands and brought your lips to his, kissing you dumb.

When he finally pulled away, you flashed him a knowing grin.  “I take it you appreciated the ‘help’ I sent you?”  You used air quotes to punctuate your sentence.

“Oh, I more than appreciated it,” he hummed back, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck where he knew you were the most ticklish.  He delighted in the giggle that left your lips as you fisted his shirt in your hands.

Bepo eagerly butted in between your pairs of legs, demanding the attention to be on him.  He had spent so much time with Shachi and Penguin as of late that he was desperate for the love from his parents.  His big, beady eyes gazed up at the both of you as he silently demanded you to go to the living room and sit on the couch so he could curl up next to you.

“Okay, okay, let’s go sit down,” you relented, laughing as your dog immediately sprinted to his favorite couch cushion.  You followed your furry baby, Law’s hand in your own, a pleasant, content grin on your face.  You flopped down next to your dog, your husband following your lead and pulling your body down on top of his, your ear resting over his heart.  You could hear it thrumming away, endlessly excited about the concept of holding you.

“You know what I like about you, Law?” you asked, adjusting yourself to be more comfortable.  

“Other than the fact that I’m married to you?” he teased.

“Yes, other than all the obvious things that I like about you,” you joked back, poking a finger into his side.  “I like that you still treat me like you did when we were dating.”

Law’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to deconstruct what your words meant.  “What do you mean?”

You sighed.  “I don’t know… I was just thinking about it today.  Like, some married couples drift apart after they have kids or after big life tragedies, but you didn’t do that.  And I like that about you.”

Law wrapped his arms around you, linking his fingers together as they rested over the small of your back.  “Couples who leave each other after having kids probably didn’t have a spark to begin with,” he replied.  “Same with couples who give up on each other after bad events happen to them.  But that’s not us, it never has been and it never will be.”

“So you’ll still like me when I’m old and shriveled?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of sincere insecurity along with your joking tone.

“I’ll love you even when we’re decaying skeletons six feet underground,” he replied, planting a kiss to the crown of your head.  “Who knows, maybe the 80-year-old you will be even sexier than you are now.  Only one way to find out.”

“Law!” you yelped, laughing at his flirtatious remark.  A few more jokes were tossed between you two, lighthearted giggles floating through the air as you cuddled before you finally relaxed in his embrace.

“How did your tests go today?” your husband asked, idly trailing his hands up and down your sides.

“They went well, my blood panel was completely normal, but the nurse said I should try to up my Vitamin D intake,” you explained.  “My ultrasound and saline sonogram were fine, there was some endometrial tissue on the outside of my uterus but Robin said it shouldn’t pose a problem.  And my infectious disease panel…”

The way your voice trailed off made Law pick up his head to look at you, concern bubbling in his chest.

You gazed back up at him with a cheeky smile.  “No tuberculosis.”

Law barked out a laugh.  “I sure as hell hope not!”

You giggled along with him, dropping your head back down onto his test.  “Aside from my texts, how did your test go?”

Your husband grinned, though you couldn’t see with your current position.  “It went fine, thanks to you I was out of there much quicker.  Nothing abnormal with my semen, and I hope to whatever’s up there in the universe that I won’t have to go back there again.”

“Is it really that bad?” you asked, holding in your laughter.

“It’s just that Franky guy.  He’s so… loud.  He’s always the last person I see before I’m supposed to jerk off into a cup,” he lamented.

“Fertility doctors don’t get you hard?” you teased.

“Not when they call semen ‘little swimmers,’' he griped back.

The conversation was making you giggle uncontrollably, your body trembling in your husband’s grasp as you poked fun at his misfortune before finally getting your energy out and settling down.  “Well… for your sake, I’m happy you’re done with that, too.”

Another comfortable silence settled over the two of you as you lay back on the couch, your dog snuggled with both pairs of your feet.

“Are you feeling ready to start this whole thing?” Law asked.

You pondered your thoughts briefly.  “I’m… I’m definitely really nervous, but I think I’m ready.”

Law’s hand rested on the back of your head, supporting you against his chest.  “I’m not leaving you, baby.  I’ll keep promising that until my tongue falls out.”

His words made a relieved, content grin crawl to your lips as you buried your head further into the junction between his shoulder and neck.  “I love you, Law.”

“I love you, darling.”

[blue-labcoat]

You're not broken

summary: reader and spencer experience a miscarriage due to ectopic pregnancy

genre: angst, 2.3k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, ectopic pregnancy, miscarriage, ambulances/hospitals, surgery, mentions of infertility

series masterlist here

a/n: me, updating this series after how long?? anyways, this was written with the information i could find on the internet about ectopic pregnancy and recovery, so it may not be totally accurate! read at your own discretion

A sharp pain in my abdomen woke me up. I could immediately tell that something was off - I was lightheaded and the pain in my lower stomach was getting worse.

“Spencer,” I whispered, reaching over to shake him awake.

“Hm,” he muttered, rolling over. I shook him harder.

“Something’s wrong, Spence. I don’t feel good, I think you should take me to the hospital.”

His eyes snapped open. “Are you serious? What's wrong?”

“I don't know. I can just tell that something's wrong, and I - ah!” I gasped out as another bolt of pain passed through my abdomen. “I'm in pain. And I- I don't know. I'm lightheaded. Something's just wrong.”

“Okay, it's going to be alright,” he said, getting up and walking over to my side of the bed to help me out. He pulled the covers off of me to help me get up, and gasped.

"Oh my god," he said softly, worry clouding his eyes. I followed his line of sight down to the sheets. There was a large bloodstain under my hips.

“Is that your period?” He asked. I shook my head, panic filling my chest. “Okay, let's get you to the hospital. C'mon, I'll help you to the car.”

I could hear in Spencer's voice that he was trying to stay calm for my sake, but I could see my own panic mirrored on his face. I stood up, and suddenly the room was blurry and spinning around me. I could feel my back getting clammy, and my heart was pounding in my ears. I fell against Spencer's chest, and felt him catch me and lay me back down on the bed.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness - I heard Spencer talking to someone, then I was somewhere with a bright fluorescent light shining over my head. The last thing I remembered was Spencer leaning over me, tears streaming down his cheeks.

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I opened my eyes slowly. “That noise is really annoying,” I muttered, closing my eyes again. It was too bright.

“She's waking up,” I heard someone saying. I didn't recognize the voice. I blinked my eyes open again, squinting so that I could take in my surroundings. I was in a hospital bed, with an IV sticking out of my arm.

“Spencer,” I called when I noticed him standing near the door.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, coming over to stand next to me. “How are you feeling?”

“I - tired. What happened?”

Spencer's eyebrows drew together with concern, and he pressed his lips together. “The nurse is sending your doctor down to talk to you. She should be here in a minute.” He took my hand in his and squeezed it tightly, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead.

Not long after, the woman who I assumed was my doctor came in.

“Good morning, Dr y/l/n,” she greeted me. “I'm Dr Keller. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, and confused. And please, call me y/n,” I replied, smiling politely.

“Alright, y/n. Unfortunately, I have some bad news for you. When you came in last night, you were suffering from some very heavy bleeding, and we eventually determined that you were miscarrying an ectopic pregnancy.”

“Miscarry- no, that can't be right,” I told her, shaking my head. “I'm not pregnant.”

“It's possible that you didn't know about the pregnancy - your partner didn't either, obviously, when he came with you in the ambulance. But, the ruptured fallopian tube was what was causing your pain and blood loss. Your fallopian tube was ultimately too damaged to salvage, so we had to remove it along with the ectopic tissue.”

My lip quivered. “I was pregnant?”

She nodded. “I'm so sorry, y/n. We can discuss in more detail what this means for you once you’ve gotten some rest. I’m going to give you two a minute, and I’ll be back shortly in case you have any more questions, ok?” She left, and I burst into tears.

“I know, baby, I know,” Spencer soothed, crawling into the hospital bed beside me. I tucked my head under his chin and wrapped my arm around his torso as best I could.

“I - this is silly of me. I didn't even know I was pregnant, I shouldn't be so upset about losing something that I didn't even know I had,” I blubbered.

“It's okay to cry, y/n,” Spencer reminded me. “It's a loss like any other, and it's important that you grieve however you need to. We need to grieve.”

I cried even harder at his words. We had talked about how we both wanted kids at some point, but we hadn't discussed when. I knew how much Spencer wanted to be a dad. And yet, here I was, missing a fallopian tube.

“I'm sorry, Spence. I-” I paused, not even knowing what to say.

“It's okay,” he said softly, knowing what I was trying to say. “It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. We don't need to talk about it right now if you don't want, okay?”

I nodded, squeezing him tighter against me.

---

Two days later, I was discharged from the hospital and Spencer took me home. I was supposed to stay home for at least another week, but I wasn't ready to talk about it with Millie yet so I just sent her my doctor's note and told her that I wouldn't be in until I was feeling better.

“Did you want me to stay home with you tomorrow?” Spencer asked while we were eating supper. I shrugged.

“You don't have to,” I replied, looking down at my food and pushing it around on my plate.

“That's not what I asked,” he said gently, reaching over to lift my chin. “Y/n, this is happening to both of us, you know that, right? I just want to be here for you.”

“I know, Spence, I’m sorry,” I replied, finally looking up at him. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with something like this. And, I know this is hard for you, too, and I want to be here for you like you are for me, but I just feel so… heartbroken. I mean, we might never be able to have a baby now, Spencer. I’m broken, and nothing can fix it.” I set down my fork and willed the tears that were beginning to form away.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer cooed, pulling me into a hug against his chest. “You are not broken, do you understand me? You could never be broken. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re upset, but I need you to understand that this is in no way your fault. I love you no matter what, right?”

I nodded against his chest, wiping my tears away on his sweater.

“Besides, we haven’t even really talked yet about having children yet. I’m not saying that a baby wouldn’t have been a good thing, but it sure would have been a surprise! The other thing to remember too, honey, is that there are lots of different ways to have children. And when we do eventually have a kid together, we are going to love them so fucking much that it won’t even matter how they became a part of our lives.

“Just promise me you won’t push me away because of this, okay? I want you to take the time you need to recover from this, physically and emotionally, but I want to be a part of that recovery. We’re going to get through this together.”

I could hear him starting to get choked up. I lifted my head up to look at him, giving him a weak smile. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I told him. “I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you too. Now. Try eating a little bit more, and then maybe we can crawl into bed early and cuddle for a bit before we go to sleep. Sound good?”

I hummed in agreement and turned back to my plate. “You can go to work tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll get caught up on my knitting, finish that book… it’ll be good.”

Spencer responded by leaning over and giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

---

The next morning, Spencer left on time, giving me a kiss and gentle hug goodbye and whispering ‘I love you’ while I was still in bed.

When I got up a few hours later, the incision from my surgery was sore. I hobbled to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and was planning on returning to bed when I heard a knock at the door. Before opening it, I checked through the peephole only to find JJ on the other side.

“Hey, JJ,” I greeted her, opening the door and stepping back gingerly.

“Hi, y/n, is… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, what do you mean?”

“Nothing, you just… never mind. Um, is Spencer here?”

My instinctual reaction was panic. Spencer had gone to work. He was supposed to be at work.

“No, he left for work at his normal time this morning. Didn’t he show up?”

“He did, but he left because he said that you needed him to come home. He didn’t say why, but he wasn’t at work very long.” She paused for a moment, looking at me closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I…” I wasn’t sure if I wanted anyone to know that I had miscarried. I had asked Spencer the night before not to tell anyone, and I wasn’t very close with JJ, but she was a mother. I suppose if anyone was going to understand, it would be her. “Can I tell you something, but can you not tell anyone?”

“Of course,” she replied, brows furrowing. “Did you want me to come in? I don’t have to, but-”

“Yeah, of course,” I interrupted, opening the door wider and stepping aside so that she could come in.

We sat down on the couch a few feet apart. I knew that JJ had been Spencer’s best friend before we met, but I’d never really gotten close with her.

“I had a miscarriage three days ago,” I told her after a short silence, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap, blurry from the tears that were starting to press on the back of my eyes. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant, we- we weren’t even trying or anything. It just hit me kind of hard, and they told me that I might not be able to get pregnant again, and I just… I didn’t even realize it was something that I wanted until I couldn’t have it, y’know?”

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry,” JJ said, reaching out to hold my hand. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so,” I sniffled. “I didn’t mean to ambush you with this, I don’t even know why I wanted to tell you. I think I just needed to tell someone, just to get it out there?”

“I know what you mean.” JJ gave me a sympathetic smile. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but I had a miscarriage too. When I was overseas.”

“You did?”

She nodded.

“If you, um, don’t mind me asking, how did you get over it?”

“To be completely honest, it’s not really something you get over. I guess grief is different for everyone, but I find myself thinking every now and then about who that little baby might have grown up to been, or how my life would be different.”

---

JJ stayed for a few hours, talking at first with me about the miscarriage, but then just chatting. When she left, my mind went back to the hospital, the doctor’s words replaying over and over again in my mind. JJ being here had helped, though. I just had to get my mind of things for a little while until the wound wasn’t so fresh, and I could think through it. I turned on Gilmore Girls and decided to bake some cupcakes.

There was third batch of cupcakes in the oven and I was frosting the first when I heard Spencer’s key turning in the lock. I paused the tv and called out to greet him.

“Hey, honey,” he said, setting his bag down and walking into the kitchen. “It smells really good in here, but are you sure you’re getting enough rest like the doctor said?”

I gave him a peck on the cheek. “I had enough rest this morning. JJ came over and we chatted for a bit, but when she left I wanted to get my mind off it, so I’m making cupcakes. I’m almost done so I can rest after while I’m eating them.”

“I see,” replied Spencer, scooping some frosting out of the bowl and licking it off his finger. “Are you sure you’re okay, y/n? I mean, this was a big deal, and I don’t expect you to just move – ”

“I’m okay, Spence. I mean, not completely, but I’m managing okay and I know that it will hurt less with time. I just need to get there, so,” I gestured vaguely at the kitchen, “Cupcakes.”

“Okay, I’m glad. Promise you’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I promise, Spence. Now, stop eating the icing and go sit in the living room. I’ll bring you a cupcake when they’re done.”

He dipped his finger back into the bowl one last time, giving me an impish grin before walking over to the couch. “I love you, y/n.”

[mynameismckenziemae]

Unbroken

Part 3

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: You and Bradley sneak away from the wedding early for some fun, but your past gets in the way.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! A little bit of smut. Please note: This chapter has heavy and possibly triggering topics for some-unplanned pregnancy, miscarriage, discussion of abortion, asshole ex-boyfriends. Feel free to send me a message if you’d like me to clarify anything before reading!

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You're more than a lover

There could never be another to make me feel the way you do

Oh, we just get closer

I fall in love all over every time I look at you

I don't know where I'd be without you here with me

Life with you makes perfect sense

You're my best friend

You can’t help but smile as you watch Jake and Charlie dance to their first song as a married couple.

Who knew your brother’s wedding would be one of the happiest days of your life?

You clap with everyone else as Jake dips Charlie at the end with a sweet kiss, before turning around with a sigh to take a seat when the DJ invites other couples to the floor when another slow song starts. It’s one of your favorites.

But there’s a tap on your shoulder before you can even take a step.

“Will you dance with me?” Bradley asks.

“I’d love to,” you smile, taking the hand he offered and letting him lead you out on the dance floor.

Your mom spots the pair of you and wiggles her brows. Your dad rolls his eyes at her as he spins them away, winking when you mouth “thank you”.

“Your mom is a hoot,” Bradley chuckles.

“She’s something,” you mumble, breath hitching when he pulls you closer.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” He murmurs in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Only once or twice. I like hearing it though.”

“Can’t help it,” he smiles, meeting your eyes. “I’ll tell you every day if you give me a chance.”

You return his smile before resting your cheek against his chest and close your eyes, fighting the unease that tries to creep in.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Two hours later your feet need a break from all the dancing you’ve done. You press a cold beer to your heated cheeks as you take a breather under the stars.

“Hey! I need you and Bradley to leave now so you can go to our house and decorate for when we get home,” Charlie says as she walks up behind you with a beer also in hand.

You look at her confused before your eyes widen. “Oh shit, Charlie. I never even thought of that! I didn’t realize you’d want-“ you start but she interrupts.

“No, I don’t actually want you to”, she laughs at your puzzled expression. “I’m just giving you and Bradley an excuse to leave soon. That’s what I’m going to say if anyone asks where the two of you went.”

“I can’t leave now,” you argue, even though it does sound like a good plan.

“You can and you will. I’m the bride and what I say goes,” she says, clinking her bottle to yours. “Now finish your beer with me and go…if you want,” she adds, ultimately giving you the choice.

“That does sound nice,” you agree before taking a long pull.

“Thought so,” she smiles, taking a drink too.

You give her a big hug before you head back into the tent to find Bradley. “Have fun on your honeymoon, I don’t want to hear about it when you get back,” you laugh, giving her one more squeeze before pulling back to look at her. “Love you, Char. I’m so happy to call you my sister.”

“Love you too,” she sniffs, pulling back to look you in the eye. “Text me tomorrow. I gotta know if those mustache rides are really what they’re cracked up to be.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“So, my place or yours?” Bradley asks, quirking a brow as he starts your truck. He’d offered to drive since he’d only had water for a few hours now.

“Mine, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see where you call home,” he replies, reaching for your hand in the seat between you.

“It’s small, but it’s just me so I don’t mind,” you say, weaving your fingers through his.

“Do you like living in the country?” He asks as he turns down your road.

“Mhmm. I enjoy the quiet,” you nod your chin to the little white ranch-style home. “It’s this one.”

“Cute,” he observes as he pulls into your drive.

“Thanks. I figure I can always add on if I need more room,” you muse, hopping out. He picks up your bag and his from the backseat before you get a chance to reach for it. “I’d rather do that than move.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t want to move. It’s beautiful out here. I’ve never seen the moon so big, or so many stars. Wow,” he says softly as he takes in the endless sky.

“If you look long enough you’ll probably see a shooting star. We can sit out here on the swing if you want?” You offer as you unlock your front door.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he murmurs, still looking up.

“Not sure what you all have in your bag, but I’m sure I’ve got some sweats here of Jake’s if you want to change,” you say, pushing the door open.

He nods, loosening his tie. “I’m ready to get out of this suit.”

You find him something of Jake’s to wear that you stole when he was deployed before heading back to your bedroom to change.

You groan in relief when you take off your tight strapless bra after slipping off your dress, putting on silky shorts and a sweatshirt after.

You can’t hide your smirk when Bradley's eyes drop to your bare legs when you come out of your room.

“Beer?” You ask as you open your fridge and bend over to reach them on the bottom shelf, knowing your shorts are riding up.

His gulp is audible before he responds.

“Please.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A few minutes later you find yourself tucked into Bradley’s side on the porch swing with his arm around you.

You see a streak across the sky at the same time he does.

“There! There was a shooting star! Did you see it?” He asks excitedly.

“I did. I’ve seen thousands but it never gets old,” you say, finishing your beer and setting the bottle on the ground.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen one,” he says, still smiling.

Your fingers find his jaw and you turn him towards you before you lean in to press your lips to his.

Crickets chirp in the background as you kiss him slowly, sweetly beneath the light of the moon.

“Cold? Do you want to go inside?” Bradley murmurs as his hand runs over your leg, feeling your goosebumps.

You’re not, but your bed is much more comfortable than the wood swing beneath you.

“Let’s go,” you say, rising before reaching for his hand.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

He spins you into his chest once you pass the threshold of your room, kissing you with more intent than moments before.

He stops only to shuck his borrowed tee but you stop him before he can pull you back in for another kiss. Your eyes hungrily taking in his sculpted chest and stomach.

“Holy shit, Bradley,” you murmur, reaching out to trace the muscles that tense under your touch.

“Tickles,” he breathes, inhaling sharply when your fingers dip lower to the top of his sweatpants.

Your eyes flit back up to his. “You’re gorgeous,” you whisper, kissing the scars on his neck and face before returning to his lips.

Your hands push his pants down and you groan in unison against each other’s mouths when you palm his erection through the thin material of his boxer-briefs.

“That is never gonna fit inside me,” you say pulling back with wide eyes.

He chuckles and steps out of his pants that are pooled at his ankles and backs you up until your legs hit the bed. “I’ll make sure you’re good and ready first,” he says lowly and full of promise as he pulls up your sweatshirt.

Your eyes close after it’s off, revealing your bare chest to him.

“I knew they’d be perfect,” he whispers in awe, immediately cupping a breast in each hand. “I’ve been wondering what they’d look like since I first saw you.”

“Yeah. Wednesday was a long time ago,” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“No,” he shakes his head before he meets your eyes. “Since I saw you at our graduation.”

“3 years ago?” You ask in disbelief.

“Yeah. You were stunning in that yellow dress. I wanted so badly to talk to you but Jake and I weren’t exactly friends.”

“You hated each other,” you agree. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“You’re hard to forget,” he replies, kissing you again as he lays you back on the bed.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Your back arches and your hands fly in Bradley’s hair with a gasp when Bradley sucks a nipple into his mouth, teasing the other with his fingers; alternating back and forth until you’re panting beneath him, rubbing your thighs together for some friction.

That earlier unease rears its ugly head when he goes lower, kissing a path down your stomach.

Chet never did that.

“What are-oh. You don’t have to do that,” you say, propping up on your elbows as he begins to untie your shorts.

“Want to,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your thigh, pausing when he sees the hesitant on your face. “Unless you don’t like it?”

You flop back down and cover your eyes with your arm. “I uh, wouldn’t know.”

“What?”

“My ex…no one’s ever done that before,” you reply, still hiding your face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bradley says, coming up to lay beside you. He gently moves your arm away so he can look you in the eye. “He should be the one embarrassed, not you.”

“Well, we were only 17,” you reply with a sigh.

Bradley’s brow furrows.

“Maybe we should talk,” you sigh, reaching for your sweatshirt, feeling suddenly exposed in more ways than one.

“Sure,” Bradley replies, pulling his sweatpants back on before he lays down at your side.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“I’m sure Jake, or Charlie, or my mom…someone’s told you that I have no interest in relationships, right?” You ask, turning on your back to look at the ceiling.

“Yeah, Charlie mentioned something,” he replies, surprising you by moving closer and placing his hand on yours.

“Well, it’s not true. I am…interested in being in a relationship, but I am absolutely terrified,” you say with a heavy sigh.

“I was a senior when I started dating Chet. He was popular, funny cute, the star running back…everything a 17-year-old girl wanted. He asked me to homecoming and we were inseparable after that. I fell fast and I fell hard; so did he. I know we were young, but it felt like l more than puppy love. He was my first kiss, my first love and he took my virginity the night we graduated. It was awkward and painful, like most first times are,” you say, turning on your back to look at the ceiling.

“We only had sex a few more times before he had to leave for school; he had a scholarship playing football. A few weeks went by and I missed my period,” you take a deep breath before you continue.

“I called Charlie’s mom-Lisa had gotten pregnant with Charlie when she was in high school, so I felt like she’d understand. I was too scared to tell my mom yet. Lisa brought over a test, told me the directions through the bathroom door, hugged me while I sobbed when it was positive, and held my hand when I told my parents. My mom and dad were so supportive and didn’t try to persuade my decision, which was to keep it. My dad even cried at the ultrasound,” you smile at the memory.

“And Chet? Was he supportive?” Bradley asks softly, already knowing the answer.

“No, he wasn’t,” you shake your head. “He was so angry. It scared me, he’d never yelled at me like that before. He told me to get rid of it before he accused me of cheating on him since there was no way it was his because we’d used a condom. Then he stopped returning my calls and texts; just ghosted me. To say I was devastated is an understatement. I was going to be a mom at 18, I lost the love of my life and I could see my dreams of becoming a veterinarian circling the drain.”

“Whatever you say next…it’s not going to change anything,” Bradley tells you, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

You nod before your eyes fall closed. This part hurts the most. “I was so stressed out; I couldn’t eat, I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. A few weeks later I started cramping, and then the bleeding started. I lost the baby.”

“Oh Em,” he whispers. It kills you to hear tears in his voice.

“I was such a mess. The doctor told me it wasn’t my fault but I still find myself wondering if it was. I felt so guilty, but relieved; and guilty that I felt relieved. I became a shell of the girl I’d been. I decided to go to school, to pretend I was okay. I still remember Chet’s face when he saw me in the courtyard; the way he did a double take. He smiled; fucking smiled when I told him I miscarried. I slapped him across the face so hard it echoed,” you say, lip twitching in satisfaction to that memory.

“I haven’t dated or been with anyone since, I haven’t even wanted to until I met you,” you say, turning your head towards him finally, but still unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sure this isn’t what you had in mind when I asked you to leave with me.”

“I didn’t have any expectations for tonight. I was just excited to spend more time with you,” he tilts your chin up. “I really like you too, Em. I’m a patient man and you’re worth waiting for.”

You give him a small smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Hours go by as the two of you talk about anything and everything; what it was like growing up with Jake, the way Lisa became your second mom, how you still think about your baby; if they would’ve been a boy or a girl. In return, he tells you what it was like losing his parents so young, the crazy antics his adopted uncles got up to, and the paralyzing fear he felt before Jake saved his life.

“Oh God, what time is it? We talked all night,” You say through a yawn when you notice light starting to filter through the curtains.

“5:53,” Bradley replies, failing to stifle his own yawn as he checks his phone.

“Do you want me to take you back to your hotel?” You ask, exhaustion catching up to you quickly.

“I’m pretty comfy here,” he says eyes already closing, but he fights it to look at you to ask, “If that’s okay?”

You nod before snuggling into his side, still smiling when sleep pulls you under.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: Well…now you know why Emma is the way she is. What do you think?

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

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@schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Guurll I saw your requests are open and 1. I LOVE YOUR STUFF (esp. Aemond related but I sort of became an Aegon girlie thx to u). and 2. I love me some Aemond angst so here's my idea, I know is not original and probably there is something similar out there but hey, it is original in my head and I'm sure your talented hands will turn it into a bomb as always :)) - Aemond is married to this badass, sarcastic but super loving woman who loved him from the first glance and would do anything for him. Problem is, the war came, he left for Harrenhal and while he's away she finds out she pregnant; but what she also finds is about his whereabouts with Alys and she literally turns crazy heartbroken and angry, loses the child (if you're not ok with this please leave it out) but still informs her family they need to support him and this is how he survives the "dance". Aemond finds out about the shit he caused and feels shitty to say the least. He comes back home, his wife doesn't want to have anything to do with him and he tries to make amends and put the pieces back together. So basically angst lvl 9000 with slight fluff at the end. Please feel free to play with this as you see fit and remember I just gave you my heart for giving me the chance to send this in!!:X:X

The Spoils of Lies

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers [implied]

WORDS: 1,863.

WARNINGS: mentions of adultery, mentions of pregnancy/miscarriage, mentions of grief/mourning, brief reference to suicidal thoughts.

A/N - ugh I am a sucker for angst, nonnie!!! this concept makes me so wild for Aemond, cause he’s always presenting himself as a dutiful, loyal being. but he fucked up big time here 👀 also thank you x my agenda is to make people feral over both Targ boys! and thank you for the kind words nonnie, hope I did your request justice ♥️

If there was an earthly possibility you could rewind the clock, turn back time itself with your bare hands, to a moment you were the happiest, you would in a heartbeat. A moment in time where you found yourself in the warm, familiar embrace of your devoted husband, Aemond Targaryen, the intense feeling of your heart being full of sheer affection and love.

Although, many would agree, mixed with the fate of the Targaryens, good things could never truly last… And that was no exception to your marriage with the Prince Regent.

Aemond made no hesitation in deciding to fight the resistance against his elder brother’s throne, often declaring and meeting such treachery, punishable by death. With much inevitability, Aemond would be absent, gone for months on end, away from your company with nothing but lengthy distance separating you both.

And much to your luck, a few months prior to Aemond having to leave, the Gods had blessed you dearly with the heartfelt news that you were with child... Aemond had always been eager to start his own family, especially after being betrothed to you.

"Our child shall be blessed with his or her father's resilience and its mother's grace and wit... Rest assured, my love, I shall return for the birth. What kind of a father would I be to miss the birth of their firstborn, let alone not be present to hold you?"

Aemond had you strategically relocated and confined under secure protection of some desolate keep in the Reach, not even your relatives being aware of your whereabouts.

Yet as the arduous days lingered on, the small talk of warfare that would often waft into your listening ear, began to dissolve with soft wisps of a young Prince taking the favour of some woman began to stir. Initially, you presumed the Prince in discussion could practically be anyone… Prince Daemon, Prince Jacerys, mayhaps even Prince Daeron. Aemond’s involvement was the least of your concern, that was until someone had mentioned in conjunction to such gossip, that the woman in reference, had resided in Harrenhal.

Harrenhal, where Aemond himself, as far as you had been informed, was his current whereabouts, where he was supposed to find himself undertaking decree over the hostage traitors.

Such rumours, the vile accusations [or so you had naively convinced yourself to believe] had spread to the concerned ears of your immediate relatives. Immediately you were determined to set the record straight, sending ravens with letters, adamant on reassuring your relatives, that your solid stance as well as theirs was to remain faithful to Aemond and the succession of his elder.

"Do not to indulge in the horrendous lies, spread about by the foes, themselves."

Little did you know, your words would come to haunt you with the terrible truth, and consequences with it...

"Just tell me the truth of it, Aemond. You need not deny what others have confirmed."

Sighing, Aemond shook his head incessantly, looking down at his shuffling feet against the solid concrete, leaning himself defeatedly over the creaking, wooden chair.

"Just have the decency to speak the truth!" Infuriated and exhausted, one hand resting over the slight curve of your once prominent, rounded belly, now aching with a dull pain, the other slamming against the oak desk of some private, council chamber.

"I-I... I cannot."

The swell of hot tears begin to cloud your clear vision, as your face grimaces in a fusion of rage, sorrow and grief... As the gossip began to churn from whispers to outright concern, many lords and ladies in calling, had reluctantly granted your persistent questioning with their own testimonies. Each testimony, aligned with the other, and you spared yourself knowing any further beyond the truth that Aemond had bedded a strange woman, by the name Alys... That he had fallen for her, sparring her from death, only to remain by her side, than yours...

You found yourself, constantly enraged and stricken with the raw agony of heartache, clutching at your breast, and another at your belly, where your once growing babe was protected inside. Constant tears falling across your cheek, as you struggled to breath, incompetent to find rest. Your body grew weaker without the slumber, your appetite diminished or repressed, you could not say, yet you found yourself scarcely replenished. That was until the dreadful night, you felt a hot ooze, pooling from between your inner thighs. Hiking your modest gown up, only to find your fingers glazed with a crimson red, a sharp lightening of pain shooting from your stomach towards your bloodied entrance.

"Th-The baby-"

That night was a gruesome one indeed, that only ended with greater devastation. You did not think your heart could take any more anguish, hoping that the torturous labour would end your own meaningless life in the process. Yet, the Gods willing, you found yourself awake by dawn. With only having spent a day to recover and recuperate, you made the sole decision to seek Aemond out for yourself. Against the wise advice of the maesters and your ladies, they had succumbed to your wishes, only implying they arrange the travels for you, as means to lessen the burden.

During the journey, you found yourself soaked in your own thoughts, with moments of silence and numbness in between, to spare you from the hurt. In time, you had safely arrived, only to be met with Aemond's shock and false excitement.

Sparing no time for him to devise a plan, you spat of what you knew, with Aemond harshly ushering you to where you stood now.

"Ahh- So the husband who spoke of honour and duty, seems to have his tongue tied, just as a coward would incline to denial..."

"Y/N- m-my love, ñ-ñuha ōños [my light]-" Aemond's blatant stutter on his low words, was a sight you had never witnessed before, plucking at your heartstrings.

"Sh-She is a renowned witch. One that had deceived me so. I-I did what I did, not out of love but of craft... Deceit. M-My true love, Y/N-"

He strides over to you with a swiftness that caught you off-guard, too late to back away in defence. His calloused hand reaches over, gripping your soft palm tightly, his thumb stroking your skin.

"It has always been you, ābrazȳrys [wife]. I need you to believe me, just this once, even if it is against the world, I ask too much of you, I know."

"A-Aem please, you have no idea-"

"You came all this way in your condition to see me, to hear the truth... This is my truth, Y/N."

Aemond promptly fell to his knees, tugging your arm towards him, you weakly tried to resist, yet failed to pull away. His defined lips instinctively kissed over your tender skin, trailing up your arm ever so slowly, sending chills to coarse through your spine.

"Aem-"

"Please Y/N... I wouldn't dare to live with myself if it meant you alone in the world, you alone hating me for the troubles I have done untoward you and our precious babe."

The babe... Your mind caught in a haste with Aemond's overwhelming presence, drifted from the fact you were no longer with child.

"I-I lost the babe, Aem... Last night. I-I bled-"

Halting in his affections, Aemond's viable eye remained fixated onto your stomach, as your hand instinctively planted itself against the silk fabric, rubbing at your empty womb. Silence drowned the room, only the faint depth of Aemond's staggering, dense breath could be heard.

"A-Aemond-" You breathlessly whimper, pulling your hand away from his loosened grip, as your fingers reassuringly comb through his delicate, neat strands.

"Y-You lost the babe... W-Was it because of- Me?"

You took a few sparing seconds to decipher whether to respond truthfully or to sugar-coat your response. In the moment of hearing the cold, hard truth, you wanted nothing more than to rid yourself free of Aemond and his cruelty. At one point in your trek, you felt the slightest temptation to disappear, bribing the driver to take the wrong turn only to cease your existence in Aemond's life altogether. Although considering the rawness of the situation, the truth was what you came for, and was what you intended to speak of.

"Th-The maesters believe, it was the-ugh- strain of the spoils of the war. They believe that I-I was under great stress, the babe simply could not cope."

Aemond's handsome face fell towards the floor, the swaying of his hair in motion to the shaking of his head, in utter disbelief. The stinging tears once more existent, streaked across your flustered face.

No further words echoed through Aemond, nor could you endorse the courage in yourself to speak. His lean arms snaked around your waist firmly, pulling your feeble frame closer towards him, burying his face against you.

Although muffled, you could discern the sobbing cries of Aemond's pain, triggering your own mournful cries once more. A few minutes passed, until he could gather himself, persistently pleading his apology to you, over and over again.

"It is all my fault. I-I had neglected you for far too long, failing my duty to devote myself to you, Y/N as a husband and as a father. I failed to uphold the vows I spoke of to you. Because of my weak mind, I killed our child."

The brutality in his words, his whimpering tone, and shaken hands as you released his embrace, cupping his wet cheeks, as you leaned towards him.

"You did not kill our child, Aem... The Gods can be cruel, just as they can be merciful... I, too, can be merciless. I could ask that you bid me free from the clutches of duty as your wife. And yet... I can be just as forgiving-"

"Tell me the truth of it, Aemond... Do you wish to keep me as your wife? To never again leave me to ponder and suffer in the whirlpool of vicious lies and gossip."

Aemond's doeful eye eagerly gazes up towards, a fleeting shimmer of yearning glistened across his blackened pupil.

"Yes, yes, of course, ābrazȳrys [wife]. You bless me once again with your everlasting kindness. A kindness that I am undeserving of. Ride with me on dragon-back. I want to go home, I want to be with you now."

"And what of the witch? What if she tempts you again? I cannot bear to go through this again, Aemond. Spare me that."

Proudly standing once more to his sturdy feet, his fingers now interlocked with yours lovingly.

"I shall have her head, if it pleases you my dearest. Punishment by death on the account that she con a royal Prince into adultery."

The familiar, stern tone that would adorn your ears like sweet honey to your lips, finally returned, subtly easing the ache in your heart. Earning a faint, warm smile scorned across your pretty face, Aemond lowered his head towards your height, planting a soft kiss across your forehead.

"I promised my sword to you, I promised my love to you, I promised my life to you. I intend to keep those promises till the end of my days."

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

[optimizche]

Missing (Part 3) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Warning: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON 1 EPISODE 10. Be careful!!!! And please comment with your feedback! ❤️

"I couldn't possibly-" you said, shaking your head violently, an incredulous smile on your lips. "I will burn to death."

"You must, sweet one," Jacaerys implored, the Lords gathered around the Painted Table nodding solemnly.

It was then that you turned to Prince Daemon. "I have no Valyrian blood in me, My Prince. How could I possibly even hope to bond with a dragon? Let alone ride it into battle?"

Threat of the looming war was now closer than ever.

Ever since Princess Rhaenys had flown to Dragonstone on Meleys, bringing the news of the death of King Viserys The Peaceful and the crowning of Aegon instead of the rightful, named heir, Princess Rhaenyra, chaos had erupted.

Queen Alicent and her Green Council had successfully managed to usurp the Iron Throne.

Ser Erryk had arrived to Dragonstone mere hours after Princess Rhaenys, carrying with him King Viserys' crown, the same crown Prince Daemon had placed on The Black Queen Princess Rhaenyra's head during her coronation, days after Aegon's coronation at King's Landing.

The House of the Dragon was now officially divided, ready to tear itself apart in the midst of war.

During the discussion around the Painted Table this morning at dawn, the topic of adding more dragons and dragonriders to the Black faction had arose.

Princess Rhaenyra had Syrax, Prince Daemon had Caraxes. Princess Rhaenys had Meleys while her two granddaughters, Rhaena and Baela had Morning and Moondancer respectively. Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey were bonded to Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes respectively.

This brought the number of dragons on the side of the Blacks to an impressive eight.

The Greens, Queen Alicent's party only had three dragons for her three children, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre and Vhagar each bonded to Aegon, Helaena and Aemond respectively.

Even though the Blacks vastly outnumbered the Greens in terms of dragons, Prince Daemon and the young princes Jacaerys and Lucerys were adamant that more dragonriders were needed on our side.

You yourself had been a witness to Prince Daemon awakening Vermithor, a dragon once ridden by King Jaehaerys I Targaryen.

"We need more dragons with us, little one," Prince Daemon urged, the anger at his wife being robbed of her crown palpable in his temper. "You must try to bond with one of the dragons here at Dragonstone."

Jace and Luke spoke up in your support, trying to bolster your courage. "We won't let anything happen to you."

But it was when you looked at Queen Rhaenyra, who had just suffered a miscarriage of the daughter she carried, Visenya, you found your own resolve hardening.

It was the news of Aegon's coronation that had sent The Black Queen into an early labour. Far too early, leading to considerable blood loss and the birth of a stillborn baby girl, Visenya.

While your healing powers had restored the health of the Queen and brought her to her feet, she was stricken with grief over the loss of her sixth child and only daughter. Just a few days ago, you shuddered at the memory of how the Queen had wept and cursed as she bled during her premature labours. The tragedy had shaken all of you to the core.

You knew you had to bind yourself to a dragon, even if it killed you, for the sake of the Queen.

--------

Your years of studying and training in combat had done nothing to prepare you for this moment, as you stood within one of the largest pits of Dragonstone, staring up at the beast that slumbered before you.

A female dragon, the size of a mountain, she had scales of lavender interlaced with aquamarine.

"She's… formidable," you chuckled nervously, glancing at Prince Daemon, Jace and Luke, who stood on the sidelines, nodding encouragingly along with the dragonkeepers.

Steeling yourself, you slowly approached the dragon, reaching out tentatively with your palm.

"Dohaerās!" you called out, your voice echoing in the cave, awakening the she-dragon who looked at your comparitively miniscule figure with aqua coloured eyes.

"Dohaerās!" repeating the command with a determination in your voice that impressed you, given how much anxiety was gnawing away at you.

The dragon huffed, it's breath washing over your face as it raised its head.

Please don't open your mouth, you silently begged. Please don't burn me.

"Lykirī!"

Sensing the dragon's uneasiness, you attempted to calm it, but you knew that it wasn't listening to you. One wrong move and you'd be burnt till even your bones disintegrated. But you were desperate to bond with the dragon. You didn't want to disappoint the Queen when she needed you the most.

You stepped even closer to the dragon, right in front of it and all of a sudden, it opened its mouth, letting out the most thunderous roar that shook you to your bones.

"Dohaerās!" you commanded, yet again, undeterred.

"Stand your ground, little one," came Prince Daemon's advice. "Be firm."

Taking a deep breath, you kept your eyes focused on the dragon's.

"Dohaerās!" you cried out, your own voice echoing in the cave, almost as fierce as the dragon's roar.

The silence following your cry rang through your ears and you were certain that at the very next moment, you'd be burned alive by the irritated dragon.

You closed your eyes, bracing for the worst…

Instead, you felt the nudge of the dragon's head against your still outstretched palm.

"Gods be good, you've done it," Prince Daemon exhaled.

You opened your eyes to see the she-dragon bowing its head before you, a wild and unrestrained smile breaking across your face.

You had bonded with a dragon.

"Mount her!" Jacaerys shouted, rushing to his own dragon, Vermax.

"Fly with us!" Lucerys urged, already climbing Arrax.

Suddenly emboldened, you found yourself climbing swiftly up the dragon's back, patting it encouragingly as you gave it the High Valyrian command to fly. "Sōvēs!"

Laughing, Prince Daemon clapped his hands, moving aside as your dragon now rushed toward the exit to the cave, breaking all her chains in the process.

"What will you name her?" he asked between chuckles.

"I'll call her Aquerion!" you screamed back as the dragon spread its lavender aquamarine wings, ready to fly.

Perhaps your ancestry did contain a drop of Valyrian blood after all, you thought, exhilarated by the wind in your hair as you flew skyward, Arrax and Vermax flanking Aquerion on either side.

----------

While you spent your subsequent days training and honing your dragon riding skills with Jace, Luke, Rhaena and Baela, the Black Council made a decision to send envoys to the various powerful houses of Westeros, hoping that they'd swear themselves to Queen Rhaenyra's cause.

A raven came to Dragonstone, containing a message from one of Prince Daemon's spies in King's Landing that Prince Aemond had flown on Vhagar to Storm's End to secure House Baratheon.

This elicited a roar of laughter considering that Lord Borros Baratheon was a cousin of Princess Rhaenys and a staunch supporter of King Viserys. There was no chance that he would ally himself with the Greens, you were told. He was certainly going to support Queen Rhaenyra's cause, you were told.

You weren't so convinced, knowing full well that Borros Baratheon had four unmarried daughters. A betrothal to the new King's own brother could easily sway House Baratheon over to the Greens. And given that the Greens were not above usurping the Iron Throne from its rightful heir, you knew they were now capable of anything to secure their position in the approaching war.

As much as the idea of Aemond marrying a Baratheon girl perturbed you, you were even more disturbed when it was decided that Lucerys would fly to Storm's End as an envoy of Queen Rhaenyra.

Alone.

"My Queen," you begged the night before the morning of Lucerys' departure. "Please let me accompany Luke to Storm's End. He might need me."

Over the course of the years you had come to think of Lucerys as your little brother. Naturally, you had grown very protective of him.

"There will be no need for that, my dear," Queen Rhaenyra said, waving off your suggestion. "Luke is certain to receive a warm welcome at Storm's End. House Baratheon favours Princess Rhaenys and us."

"But, My Queen, Aemond will be there," you insisted in urgent but hushed tones. "He has no love for Jace, Joffrey and especially Luke since the incident at Driftmark."

"Dearest, are you questioning my decisions now?" she asked you, a brow raised.

You were suddenly flustered. "Of course not, My Queen, I was merely concerned about-"

"Lucerys will be fine, dear," she said, giving your hand a squeeze. "He is eager to prove himself and I've made him swear to the Seven that there will be no fighting on his end with that Aemond."

You bowed your head, agreeing reluctantly to her decision, an inexplicable sense of dread overcoming you.

The very next morning as soon as dawn broke, all of you assembled in the Great Hall to say goodbye to Lucerys.

"Don't fret, little one," Prince Daemon remarked, noting your concern. "Lucerys will be fine."

"Of course!" the boy said, hugging you tightly and giving you a bright smile before moving on to hug his mother.

As much as you wanted to believe it, something in your heart made you quite unsure, leaving you feeling unsettled as you watched Lucerys take to the skies on Arrax's back.

--------

Hours had passed with no word from any raven of Lucerys safely reaching Storm's End. He had promised you and Jacaerys that he would send a raven as soon has he landed at the Baratheon stronghold.

Prince Daemon had watched your mounting anxiety, noting how you did not indulge in even one of your favourite sweetcakes at breakfast that morning.

Jacaerys could tell by how distracted you were during your morning lessons with Maester Gerardys that you were still apprehensive about Luke. You paced restlessly through the hall while Jace studied High Valyrian with the Maester, before running to consult the great almanac that sat open on the stone table nearby.

"It predicts a cruel storm at Storm's End today," you read, murmuring more to yourself than to anyone else. "Gods, Luke…"

While you were almost sure that Lucerys could deal with Aemond well enough by himself as he had already done during that night at Driftmark, you knew that Aemond and a storm made for a rather difficult combination to navigate for little Luke.

"Maester, may I be excused? I'm feeling quite unwell," you said, placing a hand on your stomach to feign a stomach ache.

Jace eyed you with suspicion, not believing your excuse for a single moment but letting you leave nevertheless.

You rushed headlong down the corridors, making your way down to the basement of the building.

The armoury, I need a weapon, you thought, a plan already formulating itself in your head as clear as day.

Sneaking into the armoury, you found a vast array of blades. Swords, daggers, spears, bows and arrows. All fashioned from either Valyrian steel or Dragonglass.

You picked a sword you knew you would be able to wield, along with a couple of Dragonglass daggers.

Prince Daemon is out searching for more dragon eggs, you thought to yourself, running toward the dragonpit before quickly changing from your gown to your riding leathers. Queen Rhaenyra is abed, resting. Princess Rhaenys is tending to Rhaena and Baela…

You found Aquerion waiting for you, the gorgeous she-dragon having already anticipated your arrival with the sound of your footsteps. Perhaps you had gotten more close to your dragon than you ever realized.

Climbing up on her back, you mounted the supple leather saddle, grasping the reins in your gloved hands, looking around for any dragonkeepers guarding her nearby. There were none present.

"Sōvēs, Aquerion!" you commanded, your voice confident and crystal clear.

As you leaned down to pat your dragon as it charged toward the entrance of the pit, you knew that you needed to get to Storm's End and quick.

--------

Aquerion, being a mighty dragon had large, well-built wings, the wingspan almost double the size of her body.

She carried you swiftly up the sky and within a few hours of flying, if the change in landscape was any suggestion, you were nearing Storm's End.

It had begun to drizzle, the clouds growing thicker and more grey the closer you flew to your destination, a thin mist permeating the air. Hampering your visibility.

Wiping a stray lock of wet hair away from your face, you silently prayed that you'd reach your destination safely.

Gods, I only hope that Lucerys is alright…

You flew straight into the eye of the storm where the wind was whipping at you, the rain coming down thick and merciless. Drenching you to the bone through your riding outfit.

You were flying right above a ravine when a blast of fire cut through the storm.

Dragonfire.

Heartbeat rising tenfold, you turned Aquerion in the direction of the fire only to find a small dragon being violently pursued by a giant one.

Arrax and Vhagar.

Despite the rain and the mist, your eyesight allowed you to make out the silhouettes of their dragonriders, Lucerys and Aemond.

"There is a debt to be paid, boy!" Aemond bellowed, chuckling ruthlessly as he pursued Luke.

"Lucerys!" you cried out for the Prince, seeing him turn to see you and Aquerion approaching from the right.

Queen Rhaenyra's son shouted your name in palpable relief, seeing your much larger dragon arrive in the middle of the chase.

"Dracarys, Aquerion!" you commanded, aiming her dragonfire at Vhagar in an attempt to distract Aemond. "Fly away, Luke!"

Your dragonfire hit Vhagar's wing, a pained screech emitted by the old dragon almost shaking you to the marrow.

On Vhagar's back, Aemond looked bewildered, looking hard through the rain and fog to see who it was who had dared to attack him.

When he spotted you on Aquerion's back, for a moment in time, Aemond looked shell-shocked.

"Dracarys!" you roared yet again, sending more dragonfire at Vhagar, aiming at her head this time as you charged head-on at her with Aquerion.

Over your shoulder, you looked to see Lucerys staring at you with worriment etched on his face, even as Arrax safely carried him out and away from Vhagar's reach, to Dragonstone.

He was safe, you thought, the ghost of a smile gracing your own face as you became distracted for a fraction of a second…

All of a sudden, it felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs, your dragon, Aquerion colliding with Vhagar.

The momentum of the push was powerful enough to send both dragons plummeting toward the ground, their roars echoing in the skies. You clutched desperately at her reins to prevent yourself from being knocked off the saddle, bracing yourself for the impact at the top of a cliff.

Vhagar fell first, with a screech, Aquerion falling a few yards away from the other dragon with a pitiful whine.

For a moment, it felt like the world itself had been plunged into darkness, unconsciousness tugging at your senses, trying to pull you under to keep you sheltered from the immense pain you felt.

A broken arm for sure. Perhaps a few broken ribs?

You fell from the back of your dragon, collapsing to the ground before hesitantly raising a hand to your abdomen, feeling blood weep from a wound there.

It almost felt like a rush of energy, when you heard footsteps approaching you, making you rise shakily to your feet as you raised your sword.

"You would dare to raise a sword against me? Your childhood friend?" Aemond asked, his own sword now unsheathed, as he stood before you, bleeding from a gash on his head.

"You would dare to attempt to slay your own kin? Your own nephew?" you asked in retaliation, stepping forward, sword raised, should he attack, a hand pressing into the wound in your abdomen.

There was no chance in seven Hells that you'd survive a swordfight against Aemond Targaryen. But you weren't going to perish without a fight.

"I see you ride a dragon now," he said, nodding toward Aquerion where the poor beast lay in pain. Recovering from the fall.

"Which Baratheon girl did you betroth yourself to?" you taunted.

It was this that sent Aemond charging at you, your swords clanging as you held the blade up to defend yourself against his every swing.

Matching his reflexes as best as you could.

"Oh, wait," you sneered, between offensive blows of your own, blows that he dodged with ease. "You've been too occupied with your sister to take someone else to wife-"

With a roar, Aemond slashed violently at you, the blade of his sword cutting into the wrist of your dominant hand. Disarming you as your fingers let go of the sword from the sudden pain.

You cried out as he pushed you onto the ground with astounding force, straddling you with his sword now at your neck. The blade pressing into the column of your bare throat.

"Kill me," you urged him, the pain in your heart far greater than the pain from any wound you had suffered. "Kill me and be done with me."

Aemond looked pained, wrenching the patch away from his eye to reveal the sapphire underneath it. To show you who he really was.

"Do you truly think I would kill you?" he asked, aghast from your words. "Do you truly think so low of me?"

"You only ever needed me around to heal your wounds, to heal your eye. I was nothing more to you than my abilities," you said, your heart breaking at the pain you felt, your own eyes burning with tears.

How had years of friendship and affection come down to this?

Hearing him growl, you felt the blade vanish from at your neck as he threw his own sword to the side, his gloved hands finding your face.

"You were my best friend. The best part of my life," he said. "I loved Helaena but I loved you more, you fool."

He pressed his forehead against yours, a single tear from his own eye falling on your cheek.

"You were my solace, the only one who ever gave me true peace. When you left, I lost a part of who I was," he said and you felt your eyelids fluttering, your strength seemingly abandoning you with every drop of blood that gushed from your abdomen. "When will you ever understand this?"

Tears now felt freely from your eyes as you whimpered quietly, a sudden relief filling you at his words. For how many years had you ached to hear them?

You felt his own chest wrack with sobs, raising your bloodstained hand to touch his cheek underneath his scar. Mixing your blood with his, flowing from his head.

"You're hurt…" he said, placing his palm over your hand, his eye examining the huge bloodstain on your waist, terrified.

"But your children? With Helaena?" you asked, struggling to keep your eyes open.

He opened his mouth to speak but your mind tuned out the words he said, too exhausted and fraught to stay awake.

Seconds later, your world turned black.

Part 4

[watchmegetobsessed]

JUST HOW FAST THE NIGHT CHANGES (part 3)

A/N: writing this part took me way longer than i thought but here we are! it's a bit shorter than the prev parts, but its waaay more loaded with emotions!! warning is included down below, but its also kind of a spoiler

WARNING: discussion about miscarriage

PAIRING: Harry x High-School-Best-Friend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

He didn’t feel this nervous before his first Grammy performance. Not even before his Wembley shows. His nerves are on the verge of snapping, his mind racing a thousand miles per second as Friday finally arrives. He wants the evening to be perfect, make you feel comfortable so he can show you how serious he is about reconnecting with you on any level you’ll allow him to.

He’s been up since five in the morning, he went to the market to get the freshest ingredients possible for dinner. He’s been cleaning, polishing the house even though his cleaning lady was there just two days ago. He’s been a tad bit maniac, to say the least, but he just wants to show you how important it is to him. He spends most of the day cooking, a full three course meal will be waiting for you when you finally arrive. 

You text him sometime after six that you’re on your way, you’ll be there in about thirty. Mentally he is cursing himself out for not sending a car for you, but he can’t do anything about that now. He obsessively checks his outfit every five minutes, fixing his hair, changing his mind whether he should have shaved or not. Well, there’s not much to do about that either now. 

And then the intercom rings through the hallway and he is shooting out of the bedroom, running towards the front door. 

“Hi!” he beams, pressing the button and he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face when he sees you on the tiny screen, standing outside his gate.

“Hi,” you chuckle.

“Just straight up, I’ll be at the door,” he instructs you before buzzing the gate open and letting you in. 

Throwing the door open he steps out into the chilly winter evening, instantly spotting your approaching form and he stops himself from running ahead like a little puppy welcoming its owner. God, he thinks it’s worrying, how obsessed he has become with you so fast, he shouldn’t be acting like this, he is a grown adult, not a little kid. 

“Hi, come on in!” he holds the door open for you.

“Hi, thank you,” you smile shyly, silently assessing the luxurious, yet not too flashy home. 

“Let me take this.” He helps your coat off your shoulders and hangs it up in the closet in the hallway while you step out of your shoes and put on the fluffy slippers he left out for you. “Do you want a tour?”

“Sure,” you chuckle.

You follow him around as he shows you the main areas of his home, living room, kitchen, dining room and then he walks you upstairs where you get a glance of his own bedroom as well as the three guest bedrooms.

“This looks amazing, Harry,” you gush as the two of you head down to the kitchen so he can serve dinner.

“Thanks. I’m trying to make it homey, so it actually feels like home when I’m here.”

“Do you struggle with that? Feeling like you’re home?”

“It was hard to pinpoint a place that I could call my home, but I think it’s better now.”

They make small talk as Harry heats up some of the food that’s been ready for a while, and then they move to the dining room where he already set the table.

“You really went all out,” you chuckle, when he opens a bottle of wine and serves dinner.

“Of course. It’s important for me.”

“To show me you can make a fancy dinner?” 

“To show you that you’re important,” he simply says without hesitation, his words stunning you for a second as he joins you at the table. “Sorry, that came out weird, didn’t it?” he chuckles awkwardly.

“No, no… it’s just… doesn’t matter,” you shake your head, turning your focus on the food. “Let’s eat.”

The food is delicious and you don’t hold back telling him about it. You never thought he would ever be this good in the kitchen, part of you imagined he is way too used to eating in fancy restaurants that he never even has the time to cook.

You were wrong.

As one course follows the other you slowly start to open up more and more, you tell him about university, how work is these days and Harry listens to anything you have to tell him, drinking up even the smallest information crumb you throw his way. 

He tells you stories too, ones you probably haven’t heard if you ever looked him up online these past few years. He lets you in on his private life he keeps locked away from the public and he hopes you see it as a sign of trust. 

When you’re both full, you insist on helping him clean up at least a bit, loading the dishwasher while he packs away the leftovers. Then you move to the living room with a new bottle of wine, he even lights a cozy fire in the fireplace as you sink into the soft cushion of his sofa. Now he feels like you’ve loosened up fully. You’re joking, teasing him, letting yourself laugh loud with your head falling back, your legs are pulled up, feet rubbing together under the fluffy blanket he handed you to make you even cozier. 

He wishes he could take a picture of you like this, looking so carefree and unapologetically yourself, like you don’t have any worries in the world.  Maybe it’s just the wine, maybe not. He selfishly wants to believe that it’s him who finally cracked you open enough to leave your burdens behind even if it’s for just tonight. 

He tells you about a time he got drunk a few years ago and somehow ended up outside his hotel room without pants on. Mitch had to push him back into his room before anyone saw him running wild. It makes you laugh so much that you almost spill the last drops of the wine. Harry wouldn’t have minded that either, he would have gladly bought a whole new couch, he’s just thankful to see you have such a good time as he laughs with you.

“I would have loved seeing the headlines following that!” you gasp for air, wiping your tears away from the corner of your eyes.

“Yeah and my publicist would have gotten a stroke at the same time,” he huffs, making you laugh some more. It takes a few minutes for the two of you to calm down and Harry can’t help himself from speaking up. “I’ve missed this,” he smiles over the rim of his glass and you sink deeper into the cushion. “I’ve missed being our old selves.”

“But we’re not our old selves, Harry,” you softly breathe out, the sinking feeling returning in your guts, your laughter now long gone. 

“But it feels just like that. It doesn’t matter that we’re older or how much has changed,” he insists.

You turn silent, the smile slowly fading from your lips as you stare into your drink before downing it and placing the glass to the coffee table.

Harry fears he said something he shouldn’t have and he is just about to apologize when you speak up again, dropping a bomb.

“I had a miscarriage.”

The words hang heavy between the two of you and you’re not even sure why you felt the need to share it with him. Very few people know about what happened, it’s not something you can just easily bring up and share with others but now Harry belongs to this tiny circle as well.

Keeping your eyes down and off of Harry you continue speaking.

“The doctors said nothing extreme happened, the baby was just… not strong enough. I have great chances of getting pregnant again. Drew, my ex… ex husband has… had different views though.”

“What do you mean?”

You open your mouth to answer, but you can feel the tears dwelling in your eyes, so you take a moment to try and swallow your emotions back, though it’s quite impossible. It’s been over a year, but you’re still not fully over it.

“He never said it out loud, but it was pretty obvious he blamed it on me in some twisted way. Made me feel like I did something that resulted in losing…”

Harry is quick to move closer when your voice dies down, he places his glass to the table and wraps an arm around you, pulling you against him.

“I swear I didn’t do anything, I was so careful, I even stopped working out, I took days off every time I felt too sick to work… I did everything…”

“I know. I know you did, it wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss on top of your head as he patiently lets you get it all out. It takes a couple of minutes before you can speak again without sobbing.

“Drew grew cold, he worked late, always made plans for himself, without me. There were weeks we barely even spoke. Deep down I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with the possibility of my husband having an affair after losing my baby… I should have done something, though…”

“You went through something very hard, he should have been there for you, it wasn’t your fault, Y/N.”

“It’s what everyone tells me, but I don’t feel like it’s the truth,” you let out a shaky breath. 

There’s so much Harry wants to say, but he knows he has to hear more to even try to comfort you the right way.

“Want to tell me more about what went down?”

He waits and no answer comes for a while before you take a deep breath and move back from his embrace. 

“I think deep down I knew he was cheating on me, but I tried to talk myself down for a few weeks, told myself he wouldn’t do that to me. Guess I was wrong,” you scoff bitterly. “It was with his coworker he swore was not his type. And when I confronted him about it, he didn’t even try to apologize, beg for forgiveness. It’s like… it was a relief for him, that he didn’t have to keep this a secret anymore and he could use it all against me finally.”

Harry exhales sharply, his hands curling into fists as anger rushes through his veins. He never met this Drew guy, but he better pray their paths never cross, because Harry surely would lose his temper.

Wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand you clear your throat as you hug your knees and continue talking, it’s like a plug has been pulled, you feel the urge to share it all with him. 

“Anyways, he basically said that he doesn’t see a future with me anymore. We had been married for less than a year at that point. He moved out by the end of the month and we were officially done in six months. I think… Uh, whatever, forget about it.”

“No, you can say it, you can say anything,” he assures you.

“I think that we were over even before I got pregnant. I feel like that was the only reason that kept him by my side. Then we… lost the baby and… I guess he used it as a reason to leave. I just don’t understand why he even married me in the first place,” you add the last part in a whisper as you swallow down another cry that’s bubbling in your throat. 

Harry is devastated, in many different ways. He is ashamed for your ex, it’s hard to believe any man would treat a woman like this, let alone a woman like you. He is mad that you had to go through all of this undeservingly, that you had to deal with not just the loss of your pregnancy but also with your husband cheating.

It’s unfair and terribly wrong and the worst part is that he wasn’t there for you and there’s nothing he can do about it now.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he exhales as he wraps his arms around you and you lean onto him, your head resting on his chest, finding great comfort in his closeness. “I know you’ve probably heard it, but it wasn’t your fault.”

You remain silent as you let him hold you and you stay like that for a while. Minutes, maybe hours pass by, you can’t tell, but he doesn’t let go of you until you move back, wiping your cheeks.

“Sorry for unloading all of this on you so suddenly,” you huff out an awkward laugh, now that your head is clearer. 

“Oh no, no, no, there’s nothing to be sorry about, Y/N. I feel like it’s wrong to say this, but… I’m glad you shared it with me,” he chuckles.

“I don’t know why I blurted it all out, not… not many people know about this. And please don’t share it with others,” you peek at him.

“Of course, I would never tell anyone. It’s safe with me,” he assures you. 

“I kinda ruined the evening, didn’t I?” you ask, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“Not at all,” he smiles. “It’s all good. Thank you for sharing.”

Silence falls over the two of you again, but it’s not at all awkward or frustrating, there’s more comfort in it than in a lot of conversations you’ve had over the years. It’s much needed after all the heavy stuff that’s been just shared and Harry wants to give you time, as much as you need.

Your eyes wander over to him and then down at his wrist. Your gaze lingers there and he catches the gloomy look that runs over your expressions.

He understands it right away.

“I still have it,” he speaks up.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet. I still have it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he nods smiling.

“Why did you stop wearing it?” you ask, but you realize it might have sounded weird. He is a grown man, why should he wear some silly bracelet he got as a teenager?

“It was–Wait, let me show you.”

He jumps to his feet and shuffles out of the room, leaving you there in confusion. You hear him fumbling around until he reappears and sits back on the couch with his wallet in his hand. You hold your tongue and just watch the events unfold as he opens the wallet and pulls out a little pouch, one they often use for jewelry.

“I was, I think in Paris when it got caught in a doorknob and the string snapped,” he starts explaining as he opens up the pouch carefully. “The beads were all over the floor and our manager was screaming at me because we were late, but I just had to collect the beads.” 

He chuckles softly and you watch as he gently shakes said beads out into his palm and your lips part in shock.

“I couldn’t find all of them, tried to fix it, but there weren’t enough left to fit around my wrist.”

He plays around with the beads, letting the roll in his palm, a sad, but somehow still goofy smile tugging on his lips before he looks up and his gaze meets yours.

And he sees just how touched you are.

“I always thought you stopped wearing it because… because we weren’t talking anymore and… you know,” you shrug, unable to find the words as you gulp back your tears. 

“That was never the case,” he exhales, realizing how important it was for you and that you lived with this false idea of him up until now. “I still keep it with me. It’s important. It always was,” he quietly adds. 

You’re absolutely speechless. All this time you thought he got rid of the bracelet in an act of leaving you behind as he entered his superstar life. You vividly remember when you first noticed it missing from his wrist, you pathetically cried yourself to sleep, hugging a teddy bear Harry got you for one of your birthdays. You felt betrayed, forgotten and unimportant and it never occurred to you something else might have happened. 

Now this ultimately sad memory has turned into something so touching and unexpectedly comforting, you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel like this. It’s like the universe has gotten its balance back.

“Thank you,” is all you can say as you cover the beads with your palm. 

You stay late, way longer than you imagined, but it’s like you’ve entered a bubble of comfort that you never want to leave. When you start yawning like a baby, that’s when you know you have to head home. Though Harry offers for you to stay the night in one of his guest bedrooms, you feel like that would be over some kind of boundary you’re not ready to cross just yet. So he calls you a car and even packs you some of the food to bring home with you. You tease him about being a malewife, but he just shrugs, accepting his fate.

“Thank you for tonight, Harry,” you smile at him sleepily as you stand by the car’s open door.

“When can I see you again?” he eagerly asks, not even caring if you think he’s crazy.

“Sometime soon. How long are you staying here?”

“I have two shows in Palm Springs on the thirty-first and then on the first as well.”

“Birthday shows?” you chuckle softly.

“Something like that. Throwing myself a party. Do you want to come?” he asks, at first just as a joke, but as soon as the words leave his mouth he realizes he means them.

“To Palm Springs?” 

“Yeah. I’ll have a birthday dinner before too. You can fly out with me, I’ll arrange everything for you. A nice little trip, what do you say?”

“I’ll think about it,” you sigh and he can tell you’re not too fond of the idea, but he still has time to convince you. Having you there on his special birthday shows would mean the world to him and it would be the best present as well for sure. 

“Alright, it’s not a no so I’m fine with that,” he smirks. “Take care and I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Sure,” you smile as you let him embrace you in a tight hug before you get into the car. 

He watches you drive away as he stands by the gate with the cheesiest smile on his face from the connection he was able to rebuild with you, but his chest also aches for everything you shared with him. And if he wasn’t sure about wanting to make everything right before, now it’s more important than anything to be there for you in any way you need him to.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

'Til Death Do Us Part║ ⓛⓘⓜⓘⓣⓔⓓ ⓢⓔⓡⓘⓔⓢ

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

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

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

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

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

You’re alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matthew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tommy. Maria. Joel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lie is working.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wish that you’d been able to get the first word. You wish you’d been able to get ahead of the narrative so that it benefited you - benefitted the truth. You wish that you could also be seen as brave and raw and moving if you cried in front of everyone. But Matthew had got the drop on you and delivered his “authentic devastation” to a panel of sympathetic ears. His inability to control his emotions was not a point of instability or weakness in their consideration like it might be if the roles were reversed.

Maria catches your eye. Her frown morphs into a tight lipped line, like she wants to say something to you but can’t. She looks at Joel for a moment before focusing on her counterpart.

Tommy clears his throat to dispel some of the charged climate. “Alright. Thanks for lettin’ us know. You need any help gettin’ him back to the retainer, Cliff?”

The Council member shakes his head. “Appreciate you offering, but I think they got it handled. He’s pretty out of sorts at the moment. Don’t think it’ll be much trouble getting him back.”

Tommy nods an acknowledgment and turns to Maria. “I’ll see to it she gets back to the house.” He tips his head your direction. Maria gives a quick thanks and heads out behind the other Council member, giving a tepid, short goodbye.

The walk back to Joel’s house is a disjointed, hazy blur. You’re inside, although you don’t have a clear notion of when that happened. Joel helps you out of your jacket as you stare blankly ahead. You hear Tommy murmur something to Joel that sounds something like “she alright?”

“Hey.” Joel’s voice is grounding and firm. You blink a few times and lock eyes. He’s grasping your arms like he’s holding you up. He might be. You’re not entirely sure at the moment. Every ounce of energy has been zapped from you. It all feels like a waking nightmare.

Low words are exchanged, and Ellie leaves the three of you in the kitchen. You settle clumsily into one of the chairs at the table and rest your head in your propped up arms. Joel and Tommy continue a conversation you drift in and out of.

“Considering he’s goin’ back to a retaining cell, there’s not a whole lotta reason people are gonna find to assume he’s just fakin’ it all. Ain’t the most lavish of places ‘n all that. Council meeting space is a lot more comfortable than that, so ya can’t say he’d be in some big rush to get back there,” Tommy reasons.

“Piece of shit just wants everybody to sit with his bullshit statements from this mornin’. Sleep on it and get his lies all embedded in their heads,” Joel scoffs.

“I don’t doubt that,” Tommy agrees gently. “I’m just sayin’ that you gotta keep in mind how things look, is all.”

“Are they going to ask me about his testimony?” you rasp.

The two brothers turn to you in sync. Joel is the first to pull a chair up next to yours. Tommy opts to stand at the end of the table with one hand mindlessly picking at the tablecloth.

“What do you mean, honey?” Joel asks softly.

“He talked about stuff. Today. And if I’m supposed to… defend myself, or whatever, I just– I want to know what sort of questions they’re going to ask me,” you explain.

Tommy and Joel exchange a look. You lick your dry lips and force the words out.

“Am I– Do I have to talk about my–about my dad and brother?” you choke out in a whisper.

Tommy scratches the back of his neck and looks away in much the same way as others had done to Matthew this morning when the discomfiting outpouring was too much. “I, uh, I reckon they might wanna follow up on some of what he shared, yeah. To get your side of things.” His expression pinches into an uncomfortable frown.

Your face falls when he confirms what you already knew: you were going to have to speak publicly on the most horrendous times in your life, and for no reason other than Matthew had purposefully brought it into the fold. You wrap your arms around yourself and rest your forehead against the table as you begin to cry for the millionth time today.

A strong hand from either side rests on your shoulder and back. Joel rubs small circles while Tommy gives a supportive squeeze. The tears flow freely as your fate comes into the clear. You were never going to be able to pull off being more believable than Matthew. You were never going to be able to remain composed enough to make it through this. Matthew was going to win, and then he was going to kill you.

“We’re gonna figure somethin’ out. I promise you that,” Joel vows.

“I can have Maria come by later to get a better idea of what we’re workin’ with exactly come tomorrow mornin’,” Tommy adds.

Joel pulls you against his side and wraps his arms around you. “Do you trust me?”

You blubber that you do, but it’s a mess of tears and snot as you try to explain that you’ve underestimated Matthew too many times to not have learned your lesson by now.

“Not this time,” Joel disagrees. “We’re gonna stay a step ahead of him. No matter what.”

You let him herd you into the bedroom that he’s completely rearranged so you’re not reminded of what happened here not that long ago. You’re sure Matthew prides himself on leaving you with that particular mental scar, the sacred comfort of you and Joel’s shared bedroom now tainted with memories of one of the scariest moments of your life. Joel had offered to move you both into the guest bedroom across the hall, but you declined. It felt like giving in, giving Matthew another win.

Now you aren’t so sure it really matters.

You settle into the cold bed, trying your best to focus on the scent of Joel on the sheets, and let your eyes flutter shut when he presses small kisses to your temple before going back downstairs to talk with Tommy.

The mellow sunlight filtering through the window suggests you slept longer than intended. Your muscles are sore. Your movements are stiff. How long had you been asleep? The whole hearing process must’ve truly exhausted you. Surely Joel would’ve woken you up if Maria had already arrived.

The smell of eggs wafting up the stairs leads you to the curious sight of breakfast on the table. Panic sets in once you register that you not only slept through the afternoon and the entire night, but you’d also missed Maria’s visit and advice. You hadn’t prepped at all. Joel assures you he’s got it covered and asks you to just take a breath and eat something.

You aren’t sure you can eat, but he coaxes you into some bites. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept. He promises you that he talked with Tommy and Maria and feels confident he can lead you in the right direction. You have no choice but to trust him. Ellie stays home today at Joel’s request. You ask how he managed that given how passionate she was yesterday. He shrugs and gives a noncommittal answer. You don’t press him. In all truth, you’re grateful that she won’t be present for today’s proceedings.

Prying eyes follow your every step to the Council building on Main Street. You refuse to meet any of them. You’re ushered by a standoffish attendant into the same small room where you sat for break yesterday and wait to be called into the main room.

You mention to Joel how odd the attendant was acting. He agrees but doesn’t seem all that surprised. Just as you’re getting the sense that Joel isn’t saying everything on his mind, the same Council member from yesterday enters the room.

“Cliff,” Joel greets curtly.

Cliff nods back in lieu of social niceties. “So it seems that Matthew was going through something more than we realized. We have reason to believe that, uh, that he has left Jackson indefinitely.”

Your shock propels you out of your seat. “What?!”

Joel stands quickly beside you and echoes your disbelief. “Who the hell let him leave?!” he thunders.

Cliff puts his hands up, palm side out, as if to allay the sudden uproar. “We’re gathering information as quickly as we can. We were alerted just this morning about all of this.”

“He tried to fuckin’ MURDER HER, and you’re tellin’ me you don’t know where he is?!” Joel bellows at a slowly cowering Cliff.

“We are doing everything within our power to sort this out, and I assure you that you aren’t the only one who is invested in getting to the bottom of this!” Cliff asserts with a put-on bravado.

“How do you know he left? Who let him past the gates? Who saw him?” Joel demands, rounding on Cliff.

“I’m not able to answer every single question you have, Joel,” he sputters. “I already told you this is a fast developing situation, and we’ve only just started piecing things together. It’s best if everyone just keeps a level head, alright?”

Joel doesn’t look much satisfied with Cliff’s offerings. “Keep a level head? KEEP A LEVEL HEAD?”

“Joel!” Maria barks through the door as she rushes in and shuts it behind her. “Enough! You’re so loud I can hear you down the hall!”

“What kinda establishment you got here, huh? Fuckin’ would be murderers just waltzin’ outta their cells as they please and nobody is any the wiser?” he spits.

You wrap a hand around Joel’s arm, and it thankfully seems to calm him a little.

“Joel, she just brought the letter to us a few hours ago. We’re trying to keep a hold of the situation, and you going off isn’t helping,” she chides.

“What letter? Who?” you choke out. You cling to Joel’s arm to steady yourself as the realization that Matthew has escaped starts to sink in.

Maria’s face softens as she turns to you. “Rachel. Rachel Harmon. She discovered a letter on their kitchen table early this morning. It was addressed to her with a portion written to the Council.

“The dipshit stupid enough to get knocked up by that psychopath?” Joel snips.

You give his arm a gentle squeeze. He glances down at you. You give a small shake of your head. Not now. He understands and chews the inside of his cheek against his molars.

Maria shuts her eyes and sighs, exercising some self-control in the charge of Joel’s anger. “His pregnant partner, yes,” she firmly corrects. Her eyes shift back to you. “I know it has been a difficult process, but if you could look at the letter and possibly verify whether it is his handwriting…”

“You manage to fuck up the VERY SIMPLE TASK of not letting a fuckin’ wannabe murderer escape, and now you’re askin’ his latest victim to help you? I don’t fuckin’ think so!” Joel thunders. He puts himself between you and the others.

“With all due respect, Joel, that’s not your decision to make,” Maria snips back in the same level tone as before.

“I’ll look at it,” you agree. Everyone turns to look at you as you stand there, shaking and trying to hold it together. “I can tell you if it’s his or not.”

“No. The reason Rachel can’t verify his handwriting — the fuckin’ father of her baby — is because Rachel doesn’t fuckin’ know him. Nobody does in the entire godforsaken place,” he finishes with a scowl thrown towards Maria and Cliff. “She knows him better than anybody – and she’s been tryna tell y’all the truth about him – but y’all wanna play this pretend court of law bullshit where there’s supposedly some kinda due process. As if she didn’t end up black and blue from that prick. Y’all seemed to forget all about that with his little waterworks yesterday, huh?”

Cliff looks appropriately chastised. Maria fixes Joel with a stern frown. “If you’re done showing your ass, we have work to do.”

You tug at Joel to get his attention. His angry face meets yours and deciphers the resignation written into every frown and troubled wrinkle.

He huffs and glares at Cliff and Maria. “Bring the letter.”

Cliff volunteers himself to fetch the letter, probably in an effort to excuse himself from Joel’s wrath. Maria holds steady and suggests everyone take a seat and take a breather. You slump into the chair. Your adrenaline is shot. Your mind feels like all the crucial cogs have hit a rut and won’t turn the gears. All the backup machinery of your mind is trying to keep up with things well beyond its capacity. When Cliff returns with the letter, it takes a moment to focus on the document placed before you. Your eyes adjust to read its contents.

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕,

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠" 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎. 𝚆𝚎’𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎, 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜.

𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙���� 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗.

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.

𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

Your stomach bottoms out as you scan the lines of text. “That’s his writing,” you confirm with a feeble shake of your head. You can’t understand how he escaped or why. It didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t like him. Your tongue feels thick and heavy as you try to find the words to express these concerns.

“Doesn’t explain how he managed to escape,” Joel clips.

“We believe his, uh, emotional difficulties yesterday were enough of a distraction to the attendants that they didn’t notice him taking the key off them,” Cliff explains with a notable pink flush on his cheeks.

“So you got swindled, and now a murderer is on the loose?” Joel sneers.

“Joel, if you can’t keep it civil, then I’m going to have to ask Tommy to see you out of here,” Maria warns.

“You want to keep things civil, but you can’t even keep one asshole in a cell?” he bites back. “You’re tellin’ me nobody noticed he was gone in the middle of the night? How in the fuck did that happen, huh? Somebody sleepin’ on the job?”

Cliff adjusts in his seat and sits a little taller. The rosy flush morphs into a deep red and spreads down his neck. “He, uh, he arranged his bedding to look like—”

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Joel snorts in disbelief. “He bundled up some blankets to look like a body? Like in the fuckin’ movies? And you fell for it?”

Cliff clears his throat and can’t quite meet you or Joel’s eye. Maria huffs, clearly exasperated by Joel’s condescending ire.

“Sounds real fuckin’ convenient, doesn’t it? That he managed all this by himself?” Joel challenges in a low, dangerous voice.

“Watch it, Joel,” Maria cautions. “If you’re suggesting there’s some sort of foul play or outside help, you’re dead wrong, and I’d be careful going around making such bold, suggestive claims.”

Joel laughs without a trace of amusement and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. Maria’s jaw clenches tight with annoyance. Joel had told you before how his and Maria’s relationship was rocky at best, and this entire situation was just oxygen to a flame. You respected Maria greatly, but it felt good to have Joel stick up for you so fiercely.

“We’re done here. Until y’all get your shit together, don’t come botherin’ her. I’m walkin’ her home, and I’m gettin’ a rifle from the patrol station. You have my word if that asshole shows up, I’m shootin’ him dead on the spot.” Joel’s nostrils flare, hands slamming onto the table as he abruptly stands.

Much to your surprise, neither Cliff nor Maria take him to task on any of it.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go home,” Joel says softly to you, extending his hand for you to take.

True to his word, Joel obtained a firearm and made no attempt to downplay his intent to use it if necessary. He kept by your side, gun ready at all times, as the days pressed on. Tommy stopped by a few times a day, sometimes with updates and sometimes with nothing. By the time day three rolled around, you hadn’t learned anything that made sense of the ordeal.

Matthew had managed to steal his cell key from an attendant, leave his cell with a decoy blanket body in place, get into his and Rachel’s house to write and leave the letter, sneak into reserves and stables to gather up supplies and a horse, and, perhaps most daring of all, getting past the main gates. All without being seen or caught.

It wasn’t that he was incapable of such deceit. It’s that he left when he was already winning. That’s what bothered you the most. He was winning, and Matthew would never forfeit an opportunity to get the best of you and put you in your place. When you’d mentioned this to Joel and even Tommy, neither seemed too concerned with this crucial piece of the puzzle. Joel himself had said that you knew Matthew better than anybody, and it was starting to wear on you that even he wasn’t taking your concerns seriously. He insisted you just needed to keep a low profile and rest. Your pure exhaustion meant you didn’t put up much of a fight to his insistence.

Rachel gave her account to the Council regarding her and Matthew’s previous discussions around leaving Jackson. She tearfully recounted the few times he had spoken to her about “needing to get out of town in a hurry,” but she “never thought he meant like this.” You believed he’d had these talks with her, but not in the context of starting a new life somewhere else. You knew with every fiber of your being that he had spoken about leaving Jackson in a rush in reference to murdering you and either taking himself out with you or fleeing before facing the consequences, whichever came to be the right choice at the time.

It was coming up on five days since Matthew left. You provided your testimony yet again to the Council but didn’t share anything you hadn’t already. It was just under 15 minutes when they’d called everyone back into the room to announce you were considered absolved of any potential wrongdoings as it was impossible to confidently confirm which party had committed what actions. You were given a stern warning that any “untoward behavior” would result in immediate cause for dismissal from Jackson. You agreed to the terms, knowing that you had never been and never would be a problem.

Despite your partial exoneration, it felt like a hollow victory. You still fret to Joel about when Matthew returns and in what capacity. You’re worrying yourself sick with the looming fear of his return. If he was able to evade watchful eyes and escape, he was more than capable of getting back inside the settlement and doing god knows what. What if he didn’t find anything out there? What if he decides to come back and stay? What if he changes his mind and insists that you should be made to leave Jackson instead of him?

You sleep to get away from reality, but your dreams are plagued with nightmares of Matthew above you, choking the life out of you. You can hardly eat. Joel seems so calm somehow. You don’t know how he manages it. It might just be a show of strength to make you feel safer, but all it’s done is make you feel more frustrated. Why doesn’t he seem concerned? Why doesn’t he have the same energy about “staying one step ahead of Matthew” that was so fiery just a short time ago? A week out from your gift of grace from Council, you can’t take it any longer. Matthew has been gone for almost two weeks, and you want to tear your hair out.

“Why don’t you listen to me?” you whisper. Talking any louder guarantees you will break into a fit of tears. You’re afraid. You’re sleep deprived despite sleeping almost constantly. You’re hurt that Joel seems so detached and unbothered from the situation.

Joel’s head snaps up from his task. He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean, honey?” He sets his things aside and moves towards you. 

You take a step away and hug yourself, shaking your head. “I-I keep telling you that something isn’t right, but you don’t seem bothered at all. I feel—I feel so alone, Joel.” So much for not crying. The hot pinch in your eyes spills over as you bury your head in your hands. 

Joel is quick to snatch you up into a tight embrace. “No, baby. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.” 

He rocks you side to side and shushes you. You can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t on the same page as you. A sickening thought tears through your mind, one you hadn’t felt since that day when Matthew gave his testimony.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Are you… Do you want me to go?” Your eyes go wide in dismay. Of course. You’ve been so distracted with everything going on that you didn’t even stop to consider the obvious: Joel wants out. This is too much for him. Too much for Ellie. This isn’t what he signed up for, playing personal bodyguard to you 24/7. He wants his life back. You can’t even blame him. Why would he choose this? Why would he choose you?

You’ve already accepted it before Joel can reply. You feel completely numb. Matthew was right. All those times he tried to tell you that no one would want you, and you decided to believe otherwise.

“What?” Joel scoffs. “What the hell? No, I don’t want you to leave! What the hell are you— Why on earth would you—” He shakes his head like he’s offended you’d even suggest such a thing. He’s gobsmacked into silence as he searches your face for some sort of clarity.

“But you—you’ve been so distant with all this Matthew stuff. A-And I just, I know it’s too much–I’m too much, and—” You ramble and try to control the flood of tears cascading down your face and neck.

“No. No, honey,” he says flatly. He shakes his head again like he can’t understand how you’d come to that conclusion. He sits you on the couch and pushes himself between your legs. He cradles your face so that you’re eye to eye with each other.

“I’m in love with you,” he states with conviction. Not a hint of reluctance or hesitation is in his voice. You can’t understand it.

“What?” you choke.

“I said I’m in love with you. I love you. It scares the hell outta me, but I do. I love you. I don’t want you to leave, not ever,” he continues. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead to yours.

“You? You love me?” you repeat.

He nods firmly a few times and pulls back to look at you. “Yeah. I do. I really, really do.”

“I–Joel—” you break. “I-I love you, too, Joel. I love you so much. I’ve loved you for so much time now. It’s been so much time, Joel. I never said it. I thought I was going to die before I could tell you—thought he was going to kill me before I could—”

Joel cuts you off with a deep, biting kiss. Your breath comes ragged and frantic with the reciprocal admission and overwrought nerves. You can’t stop crying, and you’re not even sure you know why you’re crying or what you’re crying about at this point. Everything has come to a bottleneck, and there’s no stopping the outpouring  deluge.

Joel draws back for a moment to catch his breath. He considers you with a contemplative gaze for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied that I wasn’t pickin’ up on how alone I was makin’ you feel.”

You swallow and ask a question you aren’t sure you want the answer to. “What’s b-been keeping your attention?”

Joel’s lips form a thin line. He holds your searching eye and finally nods. “I haven’t been honest with you. Been waitin’ until it was the right time. I guess now is the right time.”

Your mouth turns down at the vague explanation. “Joel, I don’t know what—”

“Tonight,” he interrupts. He sounds resolute, like he’s finally decided on something. “Tonight I’m gonna show you. Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to sleep after all of that, but you try anyway.

You’re quiet as the horse carries you and Joel through the dense wooded areas outside the settlement. You’d exited through the cover of a passage at the edge of the barrier you didn’t even know existed, but you didn’t ask questions. You just sat quietly and waited to see what Joel was going to show you, what the answer to all your questions was going to be.

The moonlight slipped through the branches, the dapple of a dull glow lighting the path forward, wherever that may be. You hug close against Joel and rest your head on his shoulder as the horse meanders further, past the dam, past the typical patrol points. You hold on tighter at his instruction when he turns off into a steep, obscured ravine. It levels off at the bottom, and you’re beginning to wonder just how far into the outlands this clandestine destination is. Joel slows the horse to an ambling gait and veers into an overgrown pocket of woods.

“This is it,” he announces calmly as he dismounts. He assists you off the horse, and guides it into a concealed alcove already housing three other horses. The only indication that this is even frequented by travelers is a dug-out firepit some several yards away. You start to ask where you’re going now when he points out the telltale edge and turn of a man made structure in the compact stretch of greenery and woodlands. You’re almost a stone’s throw from the camouflaged house before you recognize it, hidden in the distance to anyone not already familiar. He holds firm onto your hand as if you’re one surprise away from being scared off completely. He guides you through the entrance of the house after brushing aside well-placed bits of facade and coverings.

You have a million and one questions, and a singular unknown has been halfway answered when your eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior. Two of the horses must belong to Tommy and Natalie’s father, John, who each sit on aging furniture in what you think was once a sort of living space. They offer a quick greeting, one that you’re too flummoxed to return. They don’t seem surprised at your unannounced arrival. You realize Joel must’ve already looped them in. You know it’s all in due time, but it’s difficult to not grow impatient and nervous as to when exactly all your questions will be answered.

“I’ll holler if we need anythin’,” Joel informs the pair before grabbing a flashlight from a crooked end table and leading you down a dark hallway to the left. He stops in the middle of it, checks over his shoulder that you’re out of earshot, and runs his eyes lazily over your features. “You doin’ okay?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I guess I’m alright. Just sort of feel, I dunno–” You aren’t sure why you’re whispering, but it feels appropriate for conversation in the mysterious, dark hallway of the secret, hidden house. “I trust you – I do – but I’m just getting more and more nervous with every—”

Joel grazes his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t need to feel nervous, pretty girl. Not anymore. Never again. I told you I got you, and I do. So now I’m gonna show you, okay? Can you let me do that? Just hold on for a little bit longer for me?”

You swallow down your fear and concede to his plea. “Yes. Okay. I can. I mean, I will.” A deep, grounding breath, and then, “ I’m ready. I trust you.”

Joel shoots you a lopsided grin. “There’s my girl. Pretty thing.” He leans down to give you a quick kiss, and you chase his lips when he draws back. “Plenty of time for that soon enough.”

He walks you to the end of the hallway and stops short of the solid paneled wall. He runs his hand down the edge of the decorative molding, stopping on some unseen point and pressing into it until a soft click sound is heard on the other side of the wall. “Hold onto my shoulder on the way down, okay? Don’t want you fallin’.” He nudges the bottom of the wall, and the entirety of it swings forward, revealing a small opening and staircase.

“Ready?”

Your eyes go a little wide, jaw a little slack, but you just nod and grab onto his jacket as you both descend into the murky space. You duck your head a few times whenever Joel does. He’s clearly been here many, many times to be so well-acquainted with every low hanging beam and jutted bit of framing. You reach the bottom and pause again. He raises a hand to the side, flicking some other out of sight thing, and a camping lantern washes light over the room.

The damp air fits the visual of the area, but it lacks the musk of an unused space. Evidence of human movement and activity are visible here and there despite it being mostly bare. “Hidden basement? Was it always here? This has always been here, or–?”

“Yeah. Came up on it by surprise a long time ago now. The work of some doomsdayer, probably. Took us a long time to find it. Got real good use out of it lately, too.”

You scan the room for some indication of what he could mean. A long folding table lines one wall, filled with random supplies and curiosities. Odd pieces of furniture are scattered here and there. A closed door leading to who knows what. Rolled work blankets, tarps, and crates lie in organized piles.

“Is it some secret outpost or something?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel fiddles with your hand in his. Buying himself some time before–

“Why’d you bring me down here?”

He continues across the space with you and hesitates outside the closed door near the back of the basement. He waits until you meet his gaze before saying anything. “Listen to me good now. We’re gonna go in there, and I need you to promise me if you need to get outta there you’ll say somethin’. No judgment from anybody if you do, alright?” His stare could bore holes into your head with the intensity of it.

“O-Okay,” you agree. You don’t know what’s inside that would potentially be too much for you, but you know he wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t think you needed the preemptive permission of an out. He nods, searches your face with an inscrutable look, and leans down into a soft kiss. He slots his mouth against yours in a slow rhythm, siphoning the jittery anticipation from you with each pass and pull of his tongue against yours. Your weight slowly gives way to his clutch, and you give and give and give your anxieties over until you feel significantly calmer.

He pulls away, appears content with your pacified demeanor, and rests his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ve got you, honey. Just remember that.”

 He eases the door open, pushing it wide so you can see inside without having to enter. There’s already a few sources of light, but Joel flips something that powers a long row of bulbs. Matthew’s panicked eyes lock onto yours, a frenzied recognition taking over, and he strains against the rope bandings that hold him in place. He’s bound to a chair in much the same way as the first time Joel tied him up during your first time together. His muffled pleas and screams aren’t entirely intelligible past the wad of fabric shoved in his mouth. You let out a soft gasp at the sight of him, a little roughed up but mostly just looking terrified.

“This hopefully clears up why I wasn’t seemin’ too concerned with whether or not he was comin’ back to Jackson,” he supplies quietly.

“You-You mean…” You glance up at him, dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

He nods his head and watches you carefully, searching for some sort of upset or anger or disgust at seeing your ex-husband being held captive and worse for wear.

“But that day at the meeting! You were-You were so upset! You… was it all…..” You struggle to verbalize a logical train of thought. Joel had been pretending to be just as in the dark as you actually had been all this time. An apologetic frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“After that first day of the hearing, I knew we couldn’t count on those people to do the right thing. I told you I was gonna protect you. Keep you safe. I already failed you once. I wasn’t gonna fail you again.” He fixes you with a soft, remorseful look.

“Joel,” you choke. “You-You went and–after it— but, how?”

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself like he’s been waiting to finally tell you the truth, to impart this secret he’s been keeping from you for your own good. “He’s pissed off enough of the guys in Jackson that finding a few helping hands wasn’t too grand of a task,” comes his simple explanation. He glances over to Matthew with a look of pure disdain. “Had a few that owed me a major favor. Knocked his dumb ass out and took him out the back. Tommy already took the supplies, and I met him with the horse at the back passage. John lugged him on the horse here.”

You blink slowly, trying to absorb all this new information and connect it to what you already knew - or thought you already knew. You’re in such a state of shock that you don’t catch Matthew’s increasingly desperate, stifled calls for help. Joel rolls his eyes and shuts the door so the conversation can proceed in peace. 

“But the letter,” you sputter. “How?”

Joel looks at the ground and knocks the toe of his boot against it a few times before looking back at you. “Might be for the best if we don’t get into that.”

“No, Joel,” you say with a tremble. “I want to know. I deserve to know.”

He shakes his head in agreement and reaches out for your hand, which you readily place in his. He hesitates a few times before speaking. “I- I  don’t want you to be- I don’t want you to be afraid of me, honey.” His head lists back and forth, his eyes locked on where your hands are clasped together. “Done some bad things in my life. Not proud of all of it, but not really too sorry for it, either. I just… don’t want you thinkin’ I’m somebody you gotta be afraid of.”

With what seems to be a great amount of effort, he looks at you again. You hold his stare, a steady and unconditional hope and confidence meeting his look of insecurity. “I trust you,” you remind him firmly. You gather his hands together in yours and press them against your heart. “I trust you more than anything. I trust you with my life. I’m not afraid of you.”

He wavers for a moment before steeling himself. “I threatened to hurt Rachel and the baby. That’s how I got him to write that letter,” he admits. “Had to get him to talk, and quick, and I knew threatenin’ that would get him to write whatever I told him to.”

Your brow pinches together in an unasked question: how could you leverage something against him that he doesn’t actually care about?

“Yeah, it’s a little more’n what it sounds like. I–” he pauses for a beat before starting again, once more sounding uncertain of himself “–I don’t want you to see me different, when I tell you. Don’t think I could take you feelin’ scared of me or scared that I’d do anything to you – ever.”

You could understand his reluctance to bare these dark parts of himself. You’d spent most of your life in the long shadow of fear, the torrents of violence delivered by the mouths and hands of men you should’ve been able to trust. It was all too predictable that Joel would just become another perpetrator in the long line that existed before him, fitting into the established pattern. 

Except Joel wasn’t like anyone you’d ever known, was unlike any man you’d shared space with. He jumped the circuit that had been assigned to you - the circular loop of pain and fear - and became the break in the sequence. The disruptor of the inevitable. The arm that links to yours instead of bending it backward until compliance is yielded. Joel had decided that the cycle of your suffering stopped here, and god help anyone who got in his way.

“Scared? Of you? Joel, the only thing that scares me is whether or not I can ever be for you what you’ve been for me.” The words slip out gently, like they aren’t all sharp edges patched together with threads of hope. He moves to cut the conversation from its trajectory, but you press on before he can stop your moment of timid confession. “I don’t want pieces of you, Joel. I want it all. Just like you say you want all of me. So– I’m asking you to-to trust me with the truth, the way I trust you with the truth.” You level a firm, probing gaze and watch as his reservations abate.

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I-I know what him being here– I know what it means.” You straighten taller, pushing and pressing yourself to show the faith you have in yourself and in Joel - in the two of you. “I know that he’s– I know he’s not going to-to live. I know he’s not going to survive this. He’s not going to walk out of here.”

“That ain’t up to anyone but you,” he corrects. Before you can ask what he could possibly mean, he clarifies. “Told ‘em it wasn’t anybody’s decision ‘bout what happens to him but yours. Weren’t too happy with me about it. Wanted to kill him the first night – especially John – but ain’t nothin’ gonna happen that you don’t want to happen.”

The weight of his words settles slowly, a viscid cloud that ripples and sweeps through you. Matthew’s far off, muted cries for help are the only sound other than the pounding pulse in your ears. He took your life and bent it to his will, and now he was at your mercy. His fate lies in the palm of your hand because Joel stopped others from taking that decision from you. Because Matthew had hurt you more than anyone. Because Matthew had taken the most from you, wanted to take everything from you, it should be you to decide what happens.

Because Joel wanted to give you something you’d never had before: the power to dictate your life.

Your lip quivers with the comprehension of it, the magnitude of the gift he’d gently laid at your feet, as if it weren’t the most profound gesture anyone had ever bestowed you. Your lungs pull for the inhale that will balloon your chest against the constricting cage of your ribs. You have to get it together. You have to let him know he can tell you anything, can tell you everything, all without the fear that it will be too much and be the reason you walk away.

“Because you love me.” It’s not a question. It’s an answer. An explanation of why this man in front of you would do all of this.

“Because I love you,” he echoes. His lips press into a tight line. Consideration. Resolution. And then–

“I said I would—” He falters again, searching your face for the fear he so dreads will take hold and fester in you, the fear of what he is capable of, even if it’s done with the intent to shield you from harm. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “I told him I’d  drag her here, blow her brains out, and rip his kid from her stomach. Make him hold it until it didn’t move anymore. Kill off the future of him if he didn’t write what I told him to.”

You gulp back a gasp. “A-And would you have…? You would’ve done that?”

“Didn’t need to,” he replies instantly, skirting the question.

You press his hand firmer against your chest. “Would you have done that, Joel?”

“Yeah,” he finally admits. “If it meant gettin’ Matthew away from you, if it meant protectin’ you, then yeah, I would’ve.”

You gently nod, swallowing down the ebbing jolt of his confession, and bring his palms against your cheeks. You pivot to kiss them each in turn before looking up at him. “These hands are for– they’re for loving me. And protecting me.” You tilt towards him to emphasize your belief. His shoulders sag with relief, your sanction of his ill deeds loosening the tight nieve of guilt around him.

“And I know whatever happens in there–” an aside glance back at the door and back to Joel “–it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay, because you’re with me.”

He gives you a pointed nod and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I got you. I’ve always got you from here on out. I need you to understand, honey.”

“I do. I understand.”

 “Then let’s get to it, sweet girl.” 

With that, he opens the door again and drags in a heavy blanket from the other side of the basement. The distinct clink and clatter of metal can be heard even through the thick fabric. He motions for you to follow him into the room and close the door. You push it shut and watch as he hauls a cushioned chair from the corner of Matthew’s room and sets it up a few feet away from him, dead center.

 Matthew’s eyes dart wildly between the two of you. You jump at the unexpected slap Joel lands against Matthew’s head. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” Matthew quiets down instantly and stills. “I’m gonna tell you this one time: do not speak unless spoken to. You will listen to her. You will answer whatever question she has. You will not lie to her. If you lie to her or start gettin’ outta line, I will gladly set you straight.”

He rips the fabric gag from Matthew’s mouth and throws it on the floor. His breathing is audible and strained without the obstruction. Joel wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you down onto his lap, sitting in the armchair he’d arranged directly across from Matthew.

He leans forward, hugging you against him. I’m here. You’re not alone. Take the power you should’ve always had. Get answers to the questions you deserve to have answered. His hands splay wide across your chest and belly, an anchor to him. He runs his nose along your neck and hairline,  presses his lips gently against your ear. “Go on. I’ve got you.”

Matthew has been sitting silently as instructed, waiting on your permission to engage. Something turbulent and mirthful stirs in your gut. You can feel it spreading through you like a beast intent on carnage. It takes a few moments to recognize the feeling for what it is: power. The expression “drunk on power” finally made sense. The feeling of confidence, strength, and command makes your head buzz. It occurs to you that while this is your first time wielding such authority, it is likely Matthew’s first time experiencing the other side of things, not having any control over what’s going to happen next.

“How do you feel?”

Your question catches them both off guard, although Joel doesn’t show his surprise other than tensing for a split second underneath you. Matthew’s eyes squeeze shut, his frown deepening as he shakes his head side to side. He takes your line of questioning as a sign of possible mercy – all that understanding and patience you’ve been leached of your entire life.

“I’m fucking scared!” he croaks. His voice sounds weak and tired. “Every time they come down here I don’t know if it’s gonna be the time they kill me! Please just tell them to let me go! I’ll fucking go, I will! You’ll never see me again, I swear it.” He leans as far forward in his chair as he can manage, his desperation for your leniency coming off him in spates.

“What about Rachel? And the baby?”

Again, they both show their surprise at your choice of question. Matthew’s face flashes an answer before he can speak: what about them? Of course. Why should he care about the woman he’d impregnated out of spite? She was nothing more than collateral in this entire thing. His rooted seed in her belly nothing more than a guarantee of his lineage, a point of ego.

He works his expression into more of the calculated veneer he’s perfected over the years. “I-If you would– Listen, of course I care about them both, of course I want to take care of them both—”

You don’t bother listening to the rest. His words slacken to a halt as you turn your head towards Joel. “He’s lying to me, and you told him not to,” you say softly. Something eager and electric sparks in his eyes. “Yeah, I think he is, baby. I don’t like that one bit. What do you think?”

Matthew stutters but keeps himself from speaking, rightfully afraid of Joel’s correction.

You rest your hands atop his where he cradles you against him. “Do you remember in the cabin when you told me not to feel bad when bad people get what they deserve?”

He holds back a smirk. “I do.”

“Do you remember what I told you I liked seeing and wanted to see again?”

He doesn’t downplay the depraved grin spreading across his face. “I think I do, but I sure would love if you reminded me anyway.”

You turn to face Matthew and swallow down the delight at his anxious urgency to understand what is happening. Your expression is cold, unfeeling. “I liked it when you cried, Matthew, and I like it when Joel makes you cry—” you turn to Joel again, whose face has darkened and acidified, the drip of a lethal edge pooling at the verge  “—so, I want you to do it again. I want you to make him cry, Joel. Make him cry for me.”

His smile is infectious. “Thought you’d never ask.” When he tilts you closer to his face and kisses you gently, it’s your turn to be surprised. “I love you.” A tender reminder, something free in the way he says it now that it’s already been said before. Like he wants to say it as many times as he can. Like you’ll understand how much he means it the more you hear him say it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

You both ignore Matthew’s break in protocol as he rushes to explain his sincerity. Joel is in no hurry, knowing that his leisure only works Matthew into more of a frenzy. He walks calmly to the blanket he’d brought in earlier, unwraps it,  and studies the contents for a moment. Opting to forgo anything in the selection, he saunters over to an ever distraught Matthew. The glint of a small blade from Joel’s back pocket catches the light.

“NO NO NO,” Matthew starts chanting, an octave higher reached with every utterance.

You flinch when Joel swings his arm up, barely stopping the momentum of it in enough time for the sharp edge of the blade to tamp directly against Matthew’s cheek. The room is quiet again. A slip of crimson trickles between the bulge of his flesh and the blade. His jaw trembles with the effort of keeping still so as to not deepen the cut.

“The only reason you ain’t laid out and bein’ beat to death right now is because of her, so I suggest you count your fuckin’ lucky stars that she’s the one callin’ the shots,” Joel growls. His fingertips are white from where he grips the hilt of the blade so tight you can practically see the itch to drive it further in.

Matthew’s eyes lock onto your face. Like the rabbit whose leg has been snapped in steel teeth, he feels the walls closing in around him. Something about your presence makes this all the more real somehow, you think. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling uncertain if you only liked the idea of Matthew suffering and might not be fit to actually witness it. As if sensing your thoughts, Joel flicks the blade closed and returns it to his pocket.

“Now listen real close,” he drawls. Matthew’s face pouches out in little pockets of flesh between Joel’s stretched fingers where they grip his skull. The dig of Joel’s thumb into the new sliced divide of flesh triggers a string of pained gasps. “My girl wants to see you cry, so you’re gonna give her some tears. If ya can’t squeeze ‘em out during some heartfelt somethin’ or other, I’ll just hafta think of somethin’ to motivate ya.” 

Joel watches you from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to take the lead when you’re ready. He senses your uncertainty at commanding the situation just yet and continues.  A fractured cry pierces the air as Joel wedges his finger deeper into the cut. “Lucky for me, I’m feelin’ real creative today.” 

Matthew shakes his head, although you’re not entirely sure which part of it he disagrees with. Joel doesn’t seem to notice or care and continues on. “So how about you start bein’ honest and start from day one. I wanna hear all the fuckin’ mistakes you made and all the shit you took for granted. And god help you if ya start lyin’ or fakin’ some crocodile tears.”

You find Matthew’s eyes again, settled with a defeated acceptance, and he looks scared enough that you think he might actually just tell the truth for once.

“W-When we met– the first time we met–” he sputters. He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s closing himself off from his current predicament, as if he can separate himself from the lies he’s told and his obligation to now recount the story in truth rather than through his lens of manipulation. “When I saw you, I just– I did think they were raiders. Your dad and brother. I did. But. I just thought– I knew I could catch them off guard and take them both out. I just–”

His eyes slip towards Joel, a mistake warranting censure. Joel grips his head in one hand and forces his focus towards you again. “You’re tellin’ her, not me. So keep your eyes on her when you’re talkin’.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to kill you, too, or see if maybe you could be useful to me in some way,” Matthew confesses in a bungled rush of words.

“What do you mean?” You swallow down a sick feeling and aren’t sure you want to know the answer. He’d been a liar since the very beginning, and it took you so long to see it. You’d been such a fool for so fucking long. Knowing the extent and depth of the deception only magnified the hurt stemming from this level of betrayal.

“He means he kept you around for a warm, wet hole to stick his dick in,” Joel snarls.

“It wasn’t just that!” Matthew pleads. His eyes nearly slip back to Joel, but he recovers at the last moment. “I swear! If-If it was just that I could’ve just raped you! You were already so beat down it wouldn’t have been hard!”

Your stomach sinks hearing him share this alternate version of events, something so perverse from what you’d always remembered it as. “Am I supposed to be flattered by that, Matthew?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly. You hate showing weakness, especially under the circumstances.

At least Matthew looks appropriately chastened. “I’m telling you the truth! You said you wanted the truth, and I’m doing that! PLEASE!” His lip trembles with unfettered panic. “Maybe I wasn’t some-some knight in shining armor like I had you believe, b-but if I didn’t actually want you I would’ve just dumped you sooner! You have to see that I’m telling the truth about that! I did like having you around!”

“Having me around for what?” you bite back. The look on Matthew’s face says Joel’s assertion about being a “warm, wet hole” wasn’t very far off. “So that’s really it then? Just somebody to use? Somebody to make you feel good? To be, I mean– to be, what? Forever in your debt? Someone who-who was so fucking–” you cut yourself off before the heat pinching in your eyes forms tears. You shake your head side to side to collect your resolve. “Someone who was so fucking grateful to be out of their situation that they wouldn’t even notice all the fucked up parts of their new one?”

Your voice has grown shaky and hoarse at the effort of holding back tears. Matthew’s face twists into something akin to an indignant sneer. “You can’t blame me for every little thing, you know. You didn’t have to follow me around like a lost puppy. You were plenty grown enough if you wanted to—”

The sneer morphs into a grotesque contortion of pain as Joel drives his knife straight into Matthew’s lower thigh and twists. The shocked scream erupting from him is almost as jarring as the brutal drive of the knife springing up blood through his pants.

“Let’s try that again,” Joel drawls. He yanks the blade from Matthew’s leg. The claret drips fall like a quiet rain against a window, and it makes you feel unfamiliar with yourself when you register the sort of calm it brings. The gentle pitter patter of rain against the pane. The soft spill of Matthew’s blood onto his clothes and the floor. Something contentious and changing, something ready to cleanse away the before. 

You sit up straight on the edge of the chair and grip the arms, looking on in revulsion and enthusiasm. The ire churning in your gut unfurls into licking flames of white heat. “A lost puppy you were more than happy to keep on a leash,” you warble back. The edges of your vision blur in equal, indignant fever. You shove yourself up from the chair, legs shaking with the surge of emotion you no longer attempt to subdue. Hot bands of wet splinter over your cheeks, a fit pair with the jagged breaths you pull in. “How many?” you snap. “How many women were you with after you told me you loved me and cared about me?”

Matthew’s mouth hangs open as if it awaits the strangled sob in his throat to dislodge itself soon. “PLEASE,” a gasp of a prayer for your mercy.

“Ain’t a quick learner, are ya?” Joel laughs to himself, calm as ever while he jabs the flat side of his hand directly against Matthew’s windpipe. 

He sputters and coughs before quickly choking out an answer. “I don’t–cough–I don’t know. I have to think!” He tilts his head back, his eyes chasing an answer along the ceiling somewhere. “I-I’m think–jesus christ I don’t know. It has to be….” He trails off with a small rocking motion as he tallies his indiscretions. “I think thirteen,” he finally decides.

“Can you even name them?” you challenge. He makes it through the first handful quickly, but his memory is hazy from when he’d finally given in to the practice of unabashed, serial infidelity. With a promise of “help” from Joel to remember the rest, Matthew manages to focus and list off names that amount to a grand total of seventeen. Seventeen others he’d sought out and prioritized over you, over his commitments and promises to you.

“Why?”

Matthew squeezes his eyes shut tight again in anticipation of the response to his truthful but less than palatable answer. 

“Because I could.”

He waits for the strike or the blade to come and peels his eyes open when it doesn’t. You can see Joel’s entire frame taut beside him, fuming at the gall and arrogance. You signal for Matthew to continue answering.

“I-I knew you’d never do anything about it. I knew you were too scared no one would want you. I knew you wouldn’t ever think of crossing me.”

A physical pain roosts in your chest. He was right. You never did anything about it - not until Natalie. Even after Natalie, you remained boxed in by your own fears of having to present yourself as enough for somebody else, as if anyone would want you. You’d never crossed Matthew because he was something rather than the terrifying prospect of nothing. But none of that mattered when he made you feel so alone anyway. It didn’t matter when he isolated you from even knowing yourself.

“Joel, can I have your knife please?”

His eyebrows shoot up, hands deftly placing the weapon in your open palm. “Gonna show me some techniques, baby?” His smile falls a little when he sees the fearfulness pulling at you again. “Or are you gonna let me join ya?”

“Together,” you agree.

Matthew thrashes in his bindings. Pitiful calls for you to just wait and hold on a minute fall on deaf ears. Joel kicks his chair to the ground and gives a hard push with his boot to position him onto his back. You motion towards the gag, which Joel shoves back into place. You brace yourself over Matthew’s feet and remove his shoes and socks. The sinew of his muscle flexes as he tries in vain to get away from you. Joel kneels behind you and steadies you in his arms. Matthew’s neck is craning, eyes bulged with horror, as he watches helplessly.

“Can you…..?” you trail off, not sure how to ask what you want to ask.

Joel follows your line of sight to the arch of Matthew’s foot. He holds you in the cradle of his arms, back to chest, as he places his hands over yours and the knife clutched there. “I’m right here. You go on ahead, sweet girl.”

He guides your hands forward, releasing his grasp on one side to hold Matthew’s foot in place, and you hold your breath as you both plunge the blade into the soft bend of Matthew’s foot. His screams become clearer through the bunched fabric in his mouth. Your stomach turns at the high pitched agony. Joel frames your body closer to his and talks close to your ear. “You’ve got it, honey. You’re doin’ it. I’m right here. You just keep goin’. I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

The glittery silver disappears into reddening, wet flesh. Before you can pull it back out, Joel turns your wrist to the side and slows the extraction to a brutal crawl of blade against bone. Your hands shake as you enact the most ruthless savagery you’ve ever rendered. Joel’s hushed whispers of encouragement feel nauseating and thrilling. When the blade finally works its way out completely, you release a hard, shaky exhale.

Matthew is sobbing and writhing, his torment discernible even through his restraints and gag. Joel is unphased, passing praising kisses against your neck and cheeks. “Did so good. So proud of you.”

“I did okay?” you shake out.

He leans forward so you can see each other’s faces fully. “Did perfect, sweet girl. Perfect.”

You take a deep breath and center yourself. “Can you help me do it again?”

Joel grins, a sort of fervid vestige of a bedlamite, and says of course he’ll help you do it again and adds that he’ll help as many times as you want, baby. After you repeat the same measured, excruciating puncture on Matthew’s opposite foot, Joel asks a question you’ve only just decided the answer to. 

“How many times you wanna cut him, honey?” He nuzzles against your earlobe, ever patient and calming. You know if you said you wanted to stop all of this and just walk away, he’d do just that. It makes you want to do it even more.

“I-I think that, um,” you mumble hesitantly. You try to block out Matthew’s heaving shrieks. “I think that some smaller ones for the rest. I think, maybe, fifteen smaller ones should make it–”

“–seventeen,” Joel finishes with a sinister chuckle. “Knew I had me a clever one. You’re really somethin’ else, sweet girl.”

You almost chicken out as you start to feel ill inflicting your twisted punishment, a slice into his flesh for each time he strayed from you. Joel as always helps you through it and steadies the blade to create fifteen superficial but sizable slits across the expanse of Matthew’s body from bottom to top. By the final cut, his eyes are far off and fixed on a spot above your heads. Joel jerks the chair upright and wrenches him out of his dissociative escape.

“Wake up, prick,” he snaps. A smack of his palm against the side of Matthew’s head gets his eyes focused on you again. Somehow there’s still the resonance of hatred in his gaze, a burning, putrid animosity held for you. The vitriol that comes into the centrifuge of his sight on you makes goosebumps ripple over your skin.

What feels like hours has in reality only been minutes. The encumbrance of violence has tired you quickly, and you briefly wonder how on earth people can maintain rabid, cruel tendencies for years, even decades. How they aren’t shriveled into a heap after 5 minutes of it. Then you remember, some people thrive on it. For some, it’s the only thing that swells their blood. People like Matthew who can’t seem to stray far from it without it coming back tenfold in its consuming appetite for destruction.

Your stomach burns and clenches. This is not the path you are meant to travel. There’s something decidedly wrong about it all, and you wish you could focus more on Matthew finally getting what’s been a long time coming. Instead, you avert your eyes from his, away from the splinters of torn tissue you’d carved into him.

“Hey.” Joel’s soft voice calls you from your freefall. You look over to find him already watching you, carefully pinpointing each minutia of emotion you can’t keep from breaking through. “C’mere.”

You readily shrink into his middle, his arms coming up to cage you into him. A few deep breaths of him block out the heavy, stale air of the room that’s whirling with the metallic daub of fresh blood. You let him guide you to sit in the lounge chair in his lap. You slump against his warm, broad body. Your head lolls to the side. You feel like you could just shut down right now and sleep for four months straight.

“Lemme help you relax.” The words barely register until the paired action of his hand skimming underneath your waistband catches you up immediately. Your body tenses as you turn your head to look at him. A soft, playful smile graces his lips. His fingertips dip down lower. Your lids flutter closed. Why did this feel so good in such a gruesome environment? How did this feel so germane after all the atrocities you’d just committed against another human? Nevertheless, Joel’s touch is a calming weight, settling over you in an instant.

“Gonna take these off, honey.” The scratch of denim and cotton against your legs is the beginning of your body fully switching over into corporeal awareness instead of the tumultuous sea of your mind. A whiny choke gets caught in your throat when you feel Joel’s hands against your bare skin.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. He spreads your legs across his lap, knees hooked over his thighs. Your curiosity gets the better of you when you wonder what Matthew’s face looks like. 

Cold. Callous. His eyes keep flashing to the cradle of your thighs, spread and displayed.

“Messy baby,” Joel hums with a spark of humor. You aren’t sure what he means until you see the bright blood on his fingertips. “I like you messy,” he grunts, cupping your pussy against his palm. 

“Joel,” you start to protest. As you stare at the menstrual blood glistening on your inner thighs, you realize the gut cramping and sick feeling you’ve been experiencing over the past hour could only partially be blamed on all the torment you’d been inflicting on Matthew. 

“Knock it off,” he warns, sounding stern and resolute, when you squirm against him. You whimper and give in immediately. There’s not much fight left in you when it comes to Joel, not with all the pinpricking blooms of revenge taking to you so steadfastly. He groans against you as he sinks his fingers inside your entrance. His other hand has skirts underneath your top, toying lazily with your hardening buds.

“Gonna let him watch just like that first time,” he husks. His excitement is palpable against you, seeping into you like an osmotic, erogenous stimulant. You can feel him thick and ready beneath you. You lift yourself higher for his fingers to go deeper. He wordlessly complies and drinks in your feeble moan.

“God do you remember how fuckin’ smug he was that day? Now look at him.”

You heed his invitation and focus your hazy attention on Matthew. His eyes are glossy and bloodshot. His nose is dripping. There are patches of bright new blood and auburn, oxidizing blood all over his body. There’s a mixture of dried and fresh tears streaking his face.

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Joel laughs under his breath. He hooks his fingers into you and moves his hand back and forth in quick motions, his palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your legs clamp together reflexively, but Joel pries them back open. You pin the weight of your shoulders against his chest, arching up from where you sit in his lap.

“Give it to me. Come on, baby. I can feel it. You’re right there–yeah, come on–there you go.”

A white heat scorches through your lower belly just as you reach your peak. You’re a writhing mess against Joel, who holds you loosely against his chest. A warm pool of wet gathers on his hand and fingers, bright red mixed in with your slick. Your chest feels hot and prickly as you catch your breath. Already so awash in your afterglow, you list to the side where Joel props you gently against the back of the chair. 

The entire front of his pants are flecked in smudges of scarlet. He twists and turns his hand in the light, admiring the catch of it against the mixture of fluids. He smiles to himself, stands, and saunters to Matthew, whose eyes grow larger the closer Joel gets. Thick bright red blood coating his hand is all the more evident when he flexes it into a fist.

“Bet you thought so many times about seein’ blood pour outta her,” he muses in a dangerously calm voice. “Bet you wanted to be the one to make that happen. Crack her in the skull. Cut her open. Shoot her. Huh?”

Matthew is still as a statue. You find yourself hanging onto Joel’s every word as well, mesmerized and head crooked to the side to witness whatever was going to happen next. Dissatisfied with his question going unanswered, Joel takes his clean hand to grip around Matthew’s sweaty, grimy hair and yanks him to the side. “HM?”

“Yes!” Matthew coughs and begins to cry again. “Yes, I thought about it!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Joel's entire broad frame is rigid with fury. “You wanted her blood so bad, you can have it.” The high pitched impact of Joel’s drenched hand across Matthew’s cheek practically echoes in the enclosed space. Fresh tears carve a clean line through the smear of your blood on his face. Joel slaps him again. Again and again and so many times you lose count. His face is covered in you.

Matthew had wanted you dead. He’d wanted your blood on his hands. He felt that’s what you owed him. Joel saw to it that the “debt” was repaid, just not how Matthew had envisioned it. It was a due reward for what he’d craved, and it sent a surge of righteous anger through every nerve ending in your body. Joel pauses for a moment to check in on you.

You bend your head slowly in approval. “More,” you whisper.

The million kilowatt, manic grin that brightens Joel’s entire face makes you smile shyly in return. There was something akin to pride there, something that made him swell with it just from you taking control of the situation and taking ownership in this act of vengeance. He loosens some of the restraints binding Matthew to the chair and frees his arms and legs.

With every ounce of energy he has available, Matthew lunges at you, an ineffective movement with his injuries slowing him down. It’s a stumble and a longshot. You’re not even sure why he attempted it. Joel doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. In fact, he looks like he was hoping Matthew might do something so incredibly stupid just to have a reason to further maim him. He snatches him up and sends him flying into the closest wall, crumpling into a heap. Just when Matthew manages to brace himself against the wall and sit upright, Joel’s boot slams square into his back, knocking the air from his lungs.

He twitches and gasps for breath that doesn’t come. He still hasn’t caught his breath when Joel finishes stripping him bare, a constellation of slices and gashes and bruises across his body. Joel kicks him again into the middle of the room, pins him to the floor with a knee between the shoulders. The deft movement of his fingers is mesmerizing as they work over the freshly tied knots around Matthew’s elbows and wrists. Alleviation doesn’t come when Joel stands, fully clothed with a hard foot planted into Matthew’s naked back. Something about this exhibition sends a wave of heat between your thighs.

“If you try that shit again, I won’t be as patient. You understand?”

“Yes,” Matthew sputters against the ground.

“Now, keep your arms out in front of you just like that, and if I so much as see ‘em twitch I will get to flayin’ you with a blunt knife, startin’ from your fingertips.”

Matthew makes a noise that you think can only convey a distraught understanding. You inspect the loops and knots across his body, never truly trusting that it’s enough to keep him contained. Before you work yourself up with worry, Joel walks past you to the pile of tools, plucks one of them up, and returns to your side with it. A flash of light catches against the head of a hammer.

“Let’s show this bastard what puttin’ his hands ‘round your neck gets him.”

Just like he had with the knife, Joel braces himself against you and positions you over Matthew’s outstretched hands, cupping the handle of the tool in your grasp. A visible tremor shakes Matthew’s entire body, but he doesn’t dare move his arms despite knowing what’s coming. To his credit, he doesn’t scream too loud with the first several blows of the metal tool against the delicate bones in his fingers. They bend in unnatural contours after each strike, bits of stark white peeking through gnarled, ripped sinew and flesh.

The shrill din in your ears drowns out his suffocated gasps. Even when Joel helps you stand again, your knees stuck in a tremulous lock, you barely make out his instruction to drive your foot down as hard as you can. His arm curls insistently against your ribcage, holding you upright, coaxing you into delivering the violent stampede of your sole into Matthew’s already ruined appendages. The faint, sickening crunch with each strike, the soft gurgle of blood and liquid as his bone tears through where it hasn’t been crushed already. You start to feel lightheaded and sick when Joel finally pulls you away and sets you in the chair again.

Sound comes slowly back into focus, but you don’t hear what sorts of things Joel is saying to Matthew as he crouches over his pitiful, slumped body. You can only imagine it’s the adrenaline keeping him going right now. Your expression pinches when you see Joel free Matthew of all the ties he’d carefully formed not too long ago. Or maybe it had been longer than you thought. This entire room existed in a vacuum as far as your mind was concerned. It felt as though nothing existed outside these four walls. All that existed was here and now in this moment of wrath and retribution.

Joel’s hands are warm against your face. “Hey there,” he says softly, quietly, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s bent in front of you, eyes traveling across your expression and taking in every indication of your wellbeing. “Remember if it’s too much, we can–”

“No,” you grit out. The resolve to see this through gives another wind of life. “Keep going.”

Joel’s eyebrow ticks up. “You sure about that? You were lookin’ a little pale back there.”

You shrug. “Not used to this. That’s all.”

He gives you a sympathetic grin and rubs his hands along your bare thighs. You’d forgotten you were only half-dressed. “You promised you’d tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not if I’m with you.”

His whole face softens, tender and visceral in the way it reaches out to you and pulls you closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You rest your hands over his where his thumbs rub small circles. “So tell me what we do next. Help me finish this.”

And with no pretense, he ushers you up from the seat and slowly over to where Matthew lays quietly on the floor. “You wanna know what I told him?” he breathes into your ear. The wet of Matthew’s eyes glisten from where he looks up at you. The fabric gag is in his mouth again, although he is entirely unbound. You wonder what it is that Joel said to have him not daring to move again. “Told him he had to come first or I’d start breakin’ the rest of him, piece by piece, bone by bone.”

“Come first? What do you–”

“Hold onto me,” is the only warning you get before Joel is crouched behind you, reaching a hand between your legs and pulling you backward against him. Your body naturally falls open, limbs askew, as you lean into him. His fingers are thick where they breach into your bloodied entrance, still wet with your earlier release.

You quickly figure out he’s working you at such an odd angle with a distinct purpose. The pleasant but unmistakable friction against your g-spot has your legs shaking in anticipation.

“Better get to work. She’s already gettin’ close,” Joel taunts.

To your horror, Matthew drags his mangled hands across the soft length between his thighs in some warped deference to Joel’s warning that he has to reach climax before you do. The gag in his mouth isn’t substantial enough to drown out his anguished sobs. A harsh pinch to your nipple snaps your attention back to Joel. “You focus right here, sweet girl,” he husks. “You show me how good I make you feel, huh?”

You squeak out a moan when he rolls your other nipple between his nimble touch. “Ohmygod,” you breathe.

“Mmmhhmmmm,”  he chuckles low against your temple. “ Mmmhhmmm, yeah, there she is.”

 His fingers work you faster and harder until you’re right on the cusp, closed off the rest of the world with just Joel’s voice goading you to finish. You come with a hard jerk and grab onto his solid forearm as he positions you over Matthew. It comes out of you in steady spurts, the debauched splash of your fluids landing onto Matthew’s bare body and into the valleys and gashes you’d carved into it.

He seizes up, eyes slipping into the back of his skull. You don’t have a moment to consider the acidity of it in his open wounds, how it must make it burn and aggravate the already sensitive gashes, before Joel’s hands are everywhere on you. His voice is urgent when he says he has to have you right now. You say yes because even though your body can’t take any more of it, you want whatever he’s willing to give. You want all of him, to be swallowed whole by his want, to cave into the summon of his body and his mind.

The metallic clink of his belt and rough shove of fabric. You’re practically floating. He lines himself up and pushes in, already panting and sounding close. You cling to him where you can as he begins thrusting. The split of him stings in all the best ways, and you welcome the anchoring sensation of it. “Feel so–hhngg god- feel so fuckin’ good,” he chokes.

Your feeble moan only encourages his steady pace, filling you and spreading you and molding you to him. “I want it inside,” you whimper.

Joel gives a pained groan at your request, his hips stuttering for a moment at the visual. “Yeah? Want me to come inside you again? You like that? Like being full of me?”

You make some unintelligible noise that you hope conveys your affirmation. His gravelly moan works you towards another climax, but the roll of his hips begins to falter. You know he’s close. His body drapes over yours and pushes you both closer to the ground, nearer to the strung out stare that Matthew has in between squeezing his eyes shut tight as they’ll go.

“Oh fuck, please, Joel.” You want to be marked by him, want to be hued by the color of him spilling over into you, the tones and shades of him bleeding into you and staining into one flush of congruency. “Please, I need you,” you cry out.

He empties into you with a ragged moan as you clutch to him and find purchase with your other hand against the erratic rise and fall of Matthew’s chest. The warmth of Joel surrounds you and spills out of you with each sloppy thrust until he’s laying a path of lax, wet kisses along the column of your throat. “Love you. I love you.” He says it over and over like a mantra, breathless and in reverence that you’re his.

And you love him back more fiercely than you might ever be able to put into words. You look down at the man who’d wronged you all the while feeling the protective presence of Joel behind you. This is how it was meant to turn out, you think. A bookend to the first time you and Joel came together. A thought about that first time strikes you.

“I wanna do it like that first time,” you whisper with a turn of your head.

Joel hums in approval and gathers you closer to him. His hand slips lower in silent understanding, cupping your sex as he drags himself out of you. The mixture of his cum, your slick, and your period blood rush out of your entrance and into his curved palm. Joel flicks it, and you watch as it lands with a wet slop against Matthew’s face. Far from the fearful retreat you’d dwelled in so long, a righteous indignation swells in your chest. You lean into it with Joel’s help, letting him guide you into this new side of yourself, one that’s safe to explore and execute with him by your side.

You don’t feel the need to slap Matthew more than once with the handful of fluids. Joel is only satisfied once he’s struck him several times more and spit in his face for good measure. You aren’t sure if Matthew has finally given up or if the blood loss is starting to catch up with him. His responses are coming shorter and weaker.

Joel gets himself situated again before helping you get dressed. You’re sure it’s a sight to see, all the blood and grime and fluids covering you and your clothes. When you tell him you want Matthew brought outside, Joel gives you a dubious look but doesn’t question it. You look on as Matthew hobbles naked up the stairway, down the hallway, and past a curious John and Tommy who follow along outside. You glance around for what you need, finding it on the most level table in the front living area, and head into the cool night air.

No one asks about you and Joel’s disheveled, bloodied state. All eyes are on you for direction. What happens to Matthew is your call, just like Joel said. He holds Matthew at gunpoint, almost comical in the level of overkill. He’s bleeding, naked, and struggling to stay upright. Even if everyone understands he’s not going to survive, you and Matthew both know that the last thing he can keep is his pride and die alone without anyone around to witness such a pathetic ending.

“I know that you are probably going to die out there.” You look up the side of the steep ravine and off to the side where darkness and wilderness lie in wait. Everyone shifts at the insinuation that you will give Matthew the gift of privacy in his defeated, lonely death. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t asked for my forgiveness. So, I’m offering you the chance to make that right.”

Matthew whimpers, not yet free to die alone and away from prying eyes.

“Beg,” Joel snaps –  a singular, harsh warning.

Matthew meets your eye. He looks genuinely remorseful. “I never–I never deserved you.” You give him the time he needs to power through. He’s already lost enough blood to make just speaking and holding himself upright at the same time physically taxing. You can’t imagine the mental toll. “I know if you told them to kill me, they would.” He pauses to glance Joel’s direction. “I could’ve become a different person. A better person.” He sputters and coughs again. “ You could’ve done that for me - helped me get there.”

Tears flow. Real tears. Sincere tears from a monstrous man. A man who seems to have finally come to realize things could’ve been different if he wanted them to be. He sniffs and coughs and whimpers.

“I can’t ever change how I was—” he pauses to take a wheezing gulp of air “—I can’t go back and undo it. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, fat lines of tears splashing off his face.

“I know your heart is– it’s the biggest– you have so much love—”

He pauses again and steadies his labored breaths.

“If anyone had enough heart to forgive someone like me, I know it’s you.”

He holds your gaze, steady and unwavering. He means it.

“Please, please. Forgive me.”

You look at the brutalized, broken man before you, weeping and begging for your exoneration. You glance at Joel who is already watching you with a pensive expression. You look back down at Matthew. He hasn’t looked away from you as he awaits his fate.

“You haven’t earned my forgiveness, and you never will.” 

Your scathing verdict hits colder than the nighttime air. Matthew’s eyes bug out, wide and terrified. You think you hear Tommy laugh. “Put him in the pit,” you command. You jerk your head towards the unlit firepit at the edge of the dense treeline.

John and Joel happily cart Matthew, flailing and fighting with the vigor that is somehow miraculously still fueling his will to live, as Tommy trains the gun on him. They heave him into the hollowed out recess and await your next decree. Matthew is screaming and clawing at the walls. You think if he weren’t so badly injured he would be able to easily get himself out. His current state, however, renders him confined to the small circular space. Your hands shake as you reach into your pocket for the item you grabbed on your way out. A silent mass butts up against your back and steadies your hand. Joel.

“I got you,” he reassures you quietly, softly.

He holds the package in place in your left hand and guides the match in your right hand across the raised pattern of the strike pad. A flash of white settles into a warm orange burn on the end of the match.

“I’ve got you, baby. Go ahead.”

You lean over the pit, over Matthew’s desperate calls for you to not do this, and drop the flame. John grabs something from the side and hands it to Joel. Accelerant. He concentrates the first few spurts onto Matthew’s body before dashing a smaller amount over your flame. He pulls you both back as the fire swirls and shoots and swells from the pit. You close your eyes and lean back into Joel as you all stand and listen to the agonized screams coming from the bottom of the cavity.

Joel pulls you closer to him, pulls you down with him to rest on the stump nearby. The sounds of Matthew’s demise come slower and slower as the blaze consumes him. You turn your body, cradling into Joel’s embrace, and nestle your head against the crook of his neck. It blocks out some of the noise. He dips his head and fills your mouth with the slip of his hot tongue. You drink him in, open wider for him, let him into whatever space of yours he wants. It’s all his. You’re both each other’s. The kiss slows until it’s just lips grazing back and forth. A quiet comfort. A soft soothing. A safe embrace.

“Did I do okay?” you ask in a hush. Joel hears what you’re really asking: Did I do the right thing?

“You did the best you could with what you had, darlin’.”

You nod, mulling over his sage take on your decision to end Matthew’s life. “And was my best good enough?” The last bit comes out in a sort of choke, your emotions getting the better of you.

“You are good enough,” Joel is quick to emphasize. “And it’s high time you started livin’ the life you deserve.”

“I only want that if it’s with you.”

“And I’m up for the challenge of makin’ up for lost time,” he replies with a soft smile.

The tortured cries have died away, lost into the high pitched sound of the wet spots being scorched from the insides of the logs.

“But what about Rachel and the baby?” You fiddle with the button on your shirt. Even though they were better off without Matthew, you still felt the guilt of leaving her with the burden of birthing and raising a child on her own. When he doesn’t respond right away, you turn to Joel. His body is tense with the knowledge of something, another hidden truth.

“Tell me,” you urge him in a hush. “We’ve made it this far. You won’t scare me. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

He pulls you closer, some form of self-soothing perhaps, and relents more of the endless dedication he holds for you. “He has no business havin’ a bloodline.” He’s quiet for a moment, weighing something in his mind. Finding the right words. You wait for him, just like he always waits for you. “Won’t be too long now before she turns up to the clinic to find out she’s lost it.”

Lost it.

Lost it?

“You… what does—”

“She won’t know any different. Prolly chalk it up to the stress of everythin’. And she wasn’t hurt in the process, neither, so don’t go thinkin’ I’d–”

“Who did it?”

Joel finally looks at you. “Somebody in the greenhouses owed me. Got a knack for medicinal herb stuff.”

“So–So, what? They made her take something–”

“Nobody made her do anythin’,” he’s quick to correct. “It was mixed in with her food rations. Had the main dose of it prepared in a cafeteria meal she had, too, just in case.” He shrugs. “ Wanted to be sure.”

You swallow hard, not letting the mix of emotions bleed through to your expression. You don’t want Joel to think you don’t trust him, that you’re scared of him, scared of someone who was capable of such a thing - not after everything you’d been through.

“So, you– whoever it was, they gave her something to make the pregnancy fail?” You already know the answer, but you want him to say it.

“Yes.”

You nod, awash in your thoughts and mixed feelings over this splintered arm of a fucked up situation. Joel is unmoving beside you, waiting in anticipation of your blessing or reprimand. 

“No part of him exists anymore,” you say. It’s a plain observation, but you both sit in the spoken impact of it. “No part of him exists anymore, and the world is better for it.”

Your body feels weak and raw, but it’s unlike the weight of stress and danger that’s been plaguing you for so long. No, it’s the fragile heap of newness, the tentative foray of new life. Joel holds you close, coddles you, as you both stare wordlessly into the blazing fire. He watches you from the corner of his eye, only shifting when you meet his gaze. Thoughtful. Quiet.

“You ready to go home?”

Home. You smile at the thought of it, the house you now share, but know that home is truly wherever you and Joel are together. He grins back in understanding.

“Yeah,” you softly sigh, content and sleepy. “Let’s go home, Joel.”

Thank you thank you thank you for all the love and patience with this series! I've poured so much into this to get it right and tell the sort of story I feel deserves to be told. I am so proud of it (and that I finally finished it!), and I hope that it can heal parts of you as it did for me when I was writing it.

Many thanks to @jupiter-soups and @ghoulettesinspace for beta'ing and helping see this story come to a close.

Thank you for reading. I love you all. 💜

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

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@bowie-sunbaenim @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @uudelally @urlocalcr4ckwhor3 @drunk-and-capable @vickywallace @gaiahypothesims @lilipads @ashleyfilm @hiddenbabynyc @marvelouslyme96 @sleepyinspiration @reneerocks3617 @biast @sweetly-yours-and-mine @voguementhols @imperfectspatula @h0neyb3ars @whatsliferightnow @fuckthatbazinga @bigbutchenergee @mysticalsuitkryptonite @weepingkittybear

cont'd in comments

[gemini-sensei]

Biggest Surprise | Cobra Kai x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could do any headcanons or maybe a blurb on Reader having a cryptic pregnancy? And she out of the blue goes into labor or has the baby/s?

CW: secret relationship, mentioned sneaking out, hospitals, cryptic/stealth pregnancy, labor pains, very brief discussion of miscarriage, surprise baby,

Reader was walking into the kitchen of her shared apartment to grab a snack on the afternoon her life changed forever. She greeted Moon as she walked past, both wearing pretty smiles. It was a regular day of the week as far as they were concerned, rather chill and uneventful so far.

Except when she opened the fridge, a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She threw the door away to grab her stomach, making everything in the door rattle. It caught Moon's attention and she stood up.

"Are you okay?" she asked, walking over as Reader groaned in pain.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

The pain passed and Reader let out a heavy breath. She took a moment to calm down, but it was a little hard with Moon fussing over her. Whatever that pain was, it wasn't anything to get worked up over. So she shrugged her roommate off with a little smile and thanks, then grabbed the snack she'd initially come in there for.

Moon watched her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Reader nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. It was probably nothing."

They let it go and Reader went to her room, But about thirty minutes later, the same pain shot through her again. She was lying in bed, groaning as she withered on the sheets, texting Moon that it was happening again.

It didn't take long for Moon to get to her room but by the time she got to Reader, her roommate was halfway curled up on her side, holding her pudgy belly. She saw the tears in her eyes and the pained look on her face, making Moon feel horrible as she wanted nothing more than for her friend to be okay.

As she rubbed Reader's arm, trying to comfort her, she said, "We should go to the hospital."

"Yeah, probably," Reader groaned. The idea scared her, but what choice did they really have? "What could this be?"

"You could have a ruptured spleen or something," Moon suggested.

They waited for the pain to pass again before Moon helped Reader up and into her shoes. They walked down to Moon's car, where Reader got another shock of pain as soon as she sat down and started crying.

"Oh, God, Moon, please hurry!" she begged.

Moon helped buckle her in and rushed to the driver's side. She drove them to the hospital as fast as she possibly could without getting pulled over, though they got pretty lucky with green lights and little traffic. It was an agonizing ride for Reader as she dealt with the pain with loud groans; it was unlike anything she had ever felt before and it was hard not to scream.

When they arrived at the hospital, Reader hobbled up to the door until a nurse saw them coming in and brought over a wheelchair. Moon explained what was going on and they took Reader into a room quickly so they could figure out what was wrong with her. They took her vitals and asked her questions about her previous health and any sicknesses, and then they took her blood and promised to come back. It took a while and everything was up in the air until the doctor came in.

She introduced herself and smiled calmly, hoping to keep the air in the room as easy as possible. "I just have to ask you a few questions. When was the last time you were sexually active?"

Reader felt a little embarrassed as the topic came up. She glanced over at Moon, who had no idea of anything she'd been up to over the last year or so. She'd firmly told all of her friends that she wasn't interested in seeing anyone, but that really wasn't the case at all... However, she knew better than to lie to the doctor.

"A few weeks ago, why?" she asked. She couldn't have gotten an STI or anything like that. She didn't get hurt, at least that she could remember. So that left one final option. "Oh my god! Am I pregnant?"

The doctor maintained a calm demeanor. "Yes, yes you are. We were so shocked by the results, we had to run the tests two more times just to make sure."

Moon gasped softly, but didn't give any judgment or words about the secret Reader had been keeping. If anything, her dating life was the last thing on everyone's mind and Moon had her priorities in the right places. "Is the baby okay? I mean, Reader is in a lot of pain. Is she...?"

The doctor quickly shook her head. "No, no. Nothing like that. In fact, Reader... you're in labor. Those pains you're feeling are contractions, you're body preparing to deliver the baby."

"What? But that can't be right. I never even knew about it!" Reader cried out desperately. She was nowhere near ready to have a baby. She'd only just found out she was pregnant. She shook her head, crying harshly, and Moon tried to wipe away her tears. "This can't be happening! I can't have a baby!"

The doctor came over to comfort her as well, shushing her gently. She had a very maternal nature to her that helped ease Reader as her sobs turned into soft whimpers. "Hey, hey, I know this is scary. This is a lot for you to find out in just a few minutes, but you're going to be okay. My staff and I are going to take care of you two and you're going to be just fine, alright?"

Reader nodded, though she had a few questions about all of this. "How is this even possible?"

The doctor sighed. "It's fairly rare. It's called a cryptic pregnancy. Usually, very few or no symptoms present themselves and you're body doesn't change much. For the most part, some women will learn of the pregnancy halfway through. You're one of the ones that have made it to full term it seems."

They all fell silent as the information sank in. Then Moon asked, "So what now?"

"We'll, you're pretty close to giving birth. We're going to move you to the maternity ward before that happens and we're going to give you the rundown of what's going to happen," the doctor explained. "We're going to try and prepare you for this as much as we can before the baby comes."

"Okay," Reader said, laying her head back as she had to sit with the reality of the situation.

She was about to have a baby. A baby she didn't know about, a baby conceived months ago, a baby wasn't even slightly prepared for. She put a hand over her stomach, feeling nothing but soft, plush fat. It was hard to imagine there was a baby somewhere behind it, ready to be born nonetheless. And it scared the crap out of her. Where was she going to put a baby? How was she going to raise a baby? How was she going to tell the father?

Before she could think of any solutions, another wave of contractions rushed through her and she grit her teeth, groaning. She knew that the closer they got to each other, the closer her baby was to being born, and she was terrified. What was she going to do?

xxx

After being moved to the maternity ward, Reader was taken through some brief albeit helpful coaching. She listened to the doctor carefully and had Moon at her side the whole time. Though it was a startling and scary experience, Moon was optimistic throughout the whole situation. She held Reader's hand through contractions and promised that she was going to stay there with her for the whole thing. It made Reader feel ten times better.

When they were left alone, Moon finally asked, "Is there anyone you want me to call?"

She didn't ask who the father was. She didn't pry. She only asked if Reader wanted him there. It was so simple and sweet of her, and Reader appreciated it. If only it helped her figure out what to do.

"I don't know," she mumbled, thinking of her boyfriend. They'd been dating for almost a year, albeit in secret.

They hadn't wanted to make a big deal out of their relationship, thinking that if they started dating, it could meddle with their friend group. It was already hard enough with the whole backstory of Tory and Miguel and Sam and Robby thing always in the past. No one ever mentioned it, but they all knew it was there. What was the sense in making things harder? Then things just happened and she and her boyfriend liked being alone together, no one asking them dumb questions or getting in their way. It was easy, simple, lovely. So they snuck around and told some little white lies to see each other. No harm, no foul. Neither of them could have predicted where it would lead them.

Moon nodded in understanding. "Okay." She stood up and came to sit at Reader's side, showing her roommate her phone as her mood brightened. "Well, I started a list of things we're going to need. Obvious diapers and clothes and blankets and bottles-"

"Whoa, Moon, slow down," Reader said, looking between her and the long list she curated. "We don't even know what's going to happen. I mean, I haven't taken any prenatal meds or anything like that. I mean, what if the baby is sick or I'm not even allowed to keep them?"

"The hospital isn't going to take your baby from you, Reader," Moon told her, wrapping an arm around her and rubbing her shoulder. "And secondly, it isn't like you drink or do drugs, so I bet the baby is fine. And if they are sick, we can figure it out."

"We?"

"I told you, I'm here for you. For all of this, not just the birth."

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You don't have to. That's what best friends are for."

It wasn't long after that when the doctor and nurses came in and Reader was being instructed to push. Moon held her hand through the whole process, telling her that she was doing a great job. The delivery didn't take very long either. Reader pushed all of four times before the little one slid out and the doctor caught them.

Moon was encouraging her and telling her how proud she was of her when the loud wail of a baby broke the air. Both young women looked up to see the doctor holding up the messy infant with happy eyes.

"It's a boy."

"He's so little," Reader said as her baby was laid on her chest. She smiled at him, through the tears and sweat that poured down her face. Overcome with pride and love, she cried. "Hi there."

He nestled up to her, wailing and fussy. They were given a minute before a nurse scooped him up to be cleaned and evaluated. Reader watched from her position on the bed, her smile never leaving her face. Suddenly, her whole world had changed and it was all because of that little boy, whom she loved so much.

Once he was declared healthy, things moved quickly after that. Reader was cleaned up and checked on, her baby boy was dressed and given a bassinet to rest in, and things calmed down after that. Moon and Reader talked for a little bit about what to do and how they were going to do things, but as soon as Reader yawned, Moon told her that they would pick up the conversation later. Before she fell asleep, though, Reader asked Moon to tell their friends to come by the next day. She wanted them all to meet her son. Moon told her she'd let them know and with that, Reader fell asleep.

xxx

The following day, when everyone showed up at the hospital, they were a little confused as to where they were going and why they were there. Moon hadn't been very specific in the details, as she'd been almost as tired as Reader when she'd sent the text to the group chat, so everyone arrived a little worried.

They were chatting in the waiting, trying to figure out what they were doing there and what was going on. Yasmine had texted Moon that they were there, all having shown up within minutes of each other because as soon as visiting hours started, they were all pretty much there. Moon came out to get them and she was smiling wide.

"Oh, you all made it. Reader is going to be so happy to see you," she said.

Miguel asked, rather concerned. "Is she okay? What happened?"

"Yeah, you all you said was that Reader was in the hospital and wanted to see us," Sam said, just as worried. "Then we all texted you and you never texted back."

Moon got a guilty and apologetic look on her face. "Oops. I'm sorry. So much has happened. We've pretty much been here since yesterday afternoon and last night I fell asleep. My bad."

"Reader isn't dying, is she?" Robby asked.

"What? No, nothing like that," Moon said, shaking her head. She waved for them to follow her and she started walking. "Just follow me. It's something you kind of have to see to believe."

They walked down a few halls and as they approached the room, Moon slowed down and put a finger to her lips. "Shh. You have to be quiet when you walk in. I'm looking at you, Hawk."

"I can be quiet," he said defensively.

Moon playfully rolled her eyes as Sam elbowed him in the side, then she opened the door and led them inside. No one was ready for what they saw inside.

Reader was sitting on the bed with a small bundle wrapped up in her arms. She was smiling and talking softly, not noticing the group coming into the room at first. They were in a state of shock as they watched her, not at all believing what they were seeing until a tiny hand lifted from the blue blanket in her arms and reached for her. She reached back and let the little hand take hold of her finger.

"Oh my god," Yasmine let out.

Tory scoffed. "Well, that's the last thing I expected."

"What were you actually expecting?" Demetri asked.

"Stitches," she asked.

Reader looked up and smiled at her friends. "Hey."

Sam hurried over and stood at the end of the bed, as if to get a closer look but was scared to get too close. For as shocked as she was, she kept her voice calm and steady, not wanting to tighten the baby. "Reader, I didn't even know you were pregnant."

"Neither did I."

Everyone's jaws dropped at that.

"Are you serious?" Tory asked, walking over with Yasmine close behind.

The guys followed, too, but let the ladies go to Reader first, as they were obviously far more excited and ready to face the reality of the situation than they were.

Reader nodded to Tory. "Yeah. No symptoms, no changes. No indication at all. And yet, he's as healthy as can be."

She looked back down at her baby, who was looking up at her with big, pretty eyes. She couldn't help but think that he had his father's eyes, but she kept that thought to herself. They were beautiful and she loved them.

"It's a boy?" Yasmine asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Reader giggled.

The ladies - mostly Moon, Sam, and Yasmine - engaged Reader and talked about the baby, fussing over him and his mere existence. They talked a little about how it had happened and what was going to happen next, which was when Demetri and Miguel stepped in and asked the harder-hitting and logical questions - how was she going to pay for a baby? Where was he going to stay and sleep? Where was she going to get everything she needed for a baby? It was a lot to think about and they within good reason to be asking such questions.

Robby and Hawk stayed close to the wall, both a little awkward in the situation. Robby was a little uneasy around babies and though Hawk worked with young kids at the dojo, he had little experience with babies. They didn't say much but congratulated Reader.

When asked if anyone wanted to hold him, Yasmine and Sam got into a small argument over who should get to hold him first, failing to realize Moon had been the first person after Reader to get to hold him. Ultimately, the honor went to Miguel, who was just as eager to hold the little guy.

It was a night moment, all of them together, celebrating this new life. Reader was absolutely scared shitless but her friends assured her that she wasn't going to be alone in this. As far as they were concerned, the baby was one of them now. They were their own little family after all.

But her stomach still fluttered with butterflies as she looked out at the room, knowing she was going to have to face the father sooner rather than later. That was why she wanted this little meet and greet organized in the first place so that he would show up and meet his son. Reader wouldn't have to tell him one-on-one, even though she knew that perhaps that'd be the best way to do it. She was young and scared and in her mind, this was the easiest way to rip the bandaid off. She knew she'd be talking with him alone soon, but until that time came, she'd enjoy this moment.

Who's the father of Reader's baby? Let me know who you want it to be and I'll write a part two! Or if you want multiple endings and you just choose who you want it to be, I can do that too.

Choose: Hawk | Miguel | Robby | Demetri

[lovemadethemdoit]

Hangster FIC RECS (complete fics only!) 🤠💘🐓

There are some high-quality long fics in this fandom and I’m sharing my faves with you because I’m nice (and selfish and want these authors to write more fics, duh.). Promise me one thing though? If you read a fic off my list and love it? Leave a comment for the author. They’ll be PSYCHED and write more. Possibly.

Okay, let’s go. More than 30 hangster fics for you to read. 😍😍😍

Under the cut. Feel free to reblog this post far and wide to energize this fandom, too!

********* wanting (18641 words) by bottledyarn

Additional Tags: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Internalized Homophobia, Pining, Banter, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Kiss, Suicidal Thoughts, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Needs a Hug, Canon Timeline, Canon Compliant, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Emotionally Repressed, 5+1 Things, Sort Of, 6+2 things, Jake can't emote and I can't count, Character Study

Summary:

Six times Jake Seresin assumes Bradley Bradshaw is something he can want but can't have, and how he learns the truth.

--

Jake Seresin is very good at a few things. Flying, obviously. Pissing people off. Wanting things he can't have.

But he's never been very good at dealing with Bradley Bradshaw.

During the mission, Jake is just trying his best to be better.

***

hold me through the shakes (7477 words) by spiritsontheroof

Additional Tags: Hurt Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Mentally, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Canon, Pining Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Exes, Getting Back Together, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Nightmares, Canon-Typical Violence, it's like. lightly discussed, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

Bradley spills hot coffee on his hand three days into their post-mission leave.

It’s not until he can’t get the bandage over the blister that he realizes his hands are shaking.

***

I Long For You (To Hold Me Ardently) (10265 words) by perishablealex

Additional Tags: POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Canon Compliant, Light Angst, Pining, Kinda?, Smut, Getting Together

Summary:

“We don't have to talk about it.” His eyes dart away from Bradley’s face, afraid that they will betray just how much he wants to talk about it, that they will reveal the vulnerability Jake feels in that moment, caught in a momentary suspension of time. The moment feels unreal with the golden light pouring over piano tiles long forgotten in his childhood, the man at his side that feels close enough to reach but not quite hold, the way that time stretches like molasses, sweet yet torturously slow and thick.

“I think we should, don’t you?”

Or: Rooster and Hangman sleep together after the mission without realizing that it may not have been meaningless for either of them.

***

No One Can Find The Rewind Button (71073 words) by FabuMazX

Additional Tags: Mpreg, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Accidental Pregnancy, Mentions of miscarriage, IceMav are the best granddads

Summary:

It was only one night. But that's all it takes, isn't it?

Bradley and Jake are on good terms since the mission. Friends even. But they're not together, not like that. So why the universe decided to force them together with an unexpected surprise is anybody's guess.

***

something to be sheltered (19075 words) by MayWilder

Additional Tags: Found Family, Post-Mission, Meet the Family, Beau "Cyclone" Simpson is a Softie, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Needs a Hug, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Daddy Issues, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary, no beta we die like goose, Father-Son Relationship, Light Angst

Series: Part 2 of Feels Like Home

Summary:

“My wife has asked that you join us for dinner tomorrow night,” Beau says carefully.

“Your wife, sir?” Jake’s brow furrows. “Why would she like to meet me?”

“She thinks its important that my mentee sees a healthy work-life balance.”

“I’m your mentee?” Jake teases, smirking lightly. “And you talk about me enough that your wife wants to meet me?”

“You can continue to be a pain in my ass,” Beau sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Or, you can take the offer of a free dinner with a beautiful and intellectually stimulating woman.”

“Oh, I definitely want to see this side of Cyclone,” Jake grins. “Domesticated.”

“You’re bordering on impertinence.”

“Me? Never.”

“Let’s go back to when you respected me and my position.”

Jake appears to settle down, but only slightly. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders. “I’d be honored to attend dinner with your family, Admiral. Just tell me a date and time.”

*** or, Beau Simpson didn't mean to adopt a fully grown naval aviator, but, you know; shit happens.

***

flames look beautiful (if you forget what they can do) (8359 words) by Ravens_Words

Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Protective Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Protective Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Protective Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Idiots in Love, Getting Back Together, Background Relationships, Hints at IceMav, Hints at BobNix

Summary:

Bradley Bradshaw returns to consciousness with a gasp, hand going to his side, where a searing pain makes itself known.

  "-ster, hey," Jake snaps, holds his face in both hands and forces him to look his way, "breathe."

  Bradley does as he's told, as painful as it is, and his vision clears somewhat. Jake's crouched beside him, concern etched on his face, and what happened comes back to him in flashes.

  The mission going sideways at every possible turn, seeing Jake's plane get shot down in the sky, the less than smooth emergency landing in the woods that followed.

***

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away? (48614 words) by LoveMadeThemDoIt

Additional Tags: Jake Seresin Has Daddy Issues, Homophobia, Emotional Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jake POV, Bradley POV, Protective Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Protective Javy “Coyote” Machado, Protective Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Self-Denial, Jake “Hangman” Seresin Needs A Hug, Threats of Violence, Blackmail, Homophobic Slurs, Dissociation, Training Accidents, Jake is in the hospital at some point but he’ll be fine, Bradley makes sure Jake gets sleep, navy inaccuracies, Closeted Character, a dusting of IceMav, Beau „Cyclone“ Simpson is a softie, First Time, Anal Sex, Bottom Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Post-Canon, Gay Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bisexual Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Bad Parents, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Self-Worth Issues, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, the movie plot is maybe three paragraphs at the beginning but this is POST-CANON

Summary:

Jake has no illusions he’ll come back from this mission. He’s the best fighter pilot the Navy has got on staff and this is not his ego talking. He’ll fly the mission, and it’ll be a shit show, because none of them have even managed to fly the simulation in the way they need to.

In his weaker moments, Jake wonders if his father is how he’s gotten this gig.

***

baby, I'm howlin' for you (87473 words) by hangmanbradshaw

Additional Tags: Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Supernatural Elements, Full Shift Werewolves, think teen wolf meets twilight meets vampire diaries, Vampires, Witches, Werewolf Hunters, it's got all the things, they can shift but any romance stuff happens as humans fyi, Slow Burn, POV Alternating, Protective Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Possessive Behavior, also there's alphas and stuff but it's not abo, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Arranged Marriage, kind of, Also this takes place in like a medieval setting a la game of thrones, rut but not the sexy kind more the cuddly kind, Hand Jobs, Smut, Mating Bites, Accidental Voyeurism, Kinda, Top Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Bottom Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary:

His smirk widened. He may not have been happy about this, but he could appreciate that Bradley gave as good as he got. “I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.”

Bradley stared at him, expression battling between annoyance and what appeared to be a slight amount of amusement and intrigue. Jake continued, “Say, how does a werewolf get the nickname Rooster anyhow?”

Bradley raised an eyebrow. “That’s none of your business.”

Or

The Wolves & Foxes AU

***

When you're ready (45445 words) by The_Splendid_Wren

Additional Tags: I know you all saw it too, Idiots in Love, Hangman is actually not a dick, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rooster POV, Father-Son Relationship, Maverick is just trying to make Goose proud, Phoenix is a bro, Lots of staring into the scenery, Eventual Smut, Finally I have a reason to obsess over Top Gun again, References to Canon, Post-Canon, did i mention Hangman is a momma's boy?, not beta read we die like men, Slow Burn, Homophobic Language, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Therapy is good for everyone

Summary:

After the suicide-mission-that-wasn't the pilots of TOP GUN go their separate ways to enjoy a much earned week of leave. Rooster is set to spend his time with Maverick in an attempt to rekindle their familial relationship but it gets complicated when unresolved trauma from nearly dying keeps him from truly opening up. With a host of other issues like his unknown next assignment and his feelings for a rival paralyzing him, he truly has no idea how he ends up at the Seresin ranch house in Austin, Texas with the object of his desires right in front of him.

Or, Rooster is suffering PTSD and his friends and family try to help him. Whether that's getting therapy or confessing his very deeply buried feelings remains to be seen.

***

I will love you, dear, forever (17574 words) by FlowersOnMyMind

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Alpha Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Explicit Sexual Content, Jake loves Bradley so much, Dagger Squad, Found Family, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Pining, mentioned icemav - Freeform, brief bobnix, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining Jake

Summary:

"Do you have someone to take care of you?" Jake asks.

"Are you offering, Seresin?"

"Are you asking, Bradshaw?"

or

Jake and Bradley help each other through their ruts and heats.

Jake pines.

***

You Love Him, and No One Else (50269 words) by Sceld

Additional Tags: Pining, LIKE TOO MUCH, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, just a collection of tropes because I Am Cringe, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, oh yeah and lots of it, very gay, derogatorily, Family Issues, Idiots in Love, idiots in general honestly, i hate it too don't worry, First Dates, but unofficially, Bad Cooking, Meeting the Parents, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, not graphic though, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Baking, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

“I’ve got it,” Jake offers, holding his hand out, but Rooster only tuts disappointedly.

“What kind of host would I be if I made you carry your own bag?”

Jake blanks on a response, his mouth twisting into a smile without his permission. Rooster turns to where Jake can now see the Bronco. Its engine is still running, and it’s warm inside when Jake closes the door behind him, clicking on his seatbelt by feeling along while he stares intently at the glove compartment in front of him, waiting while Rooster puts his bag in the boot. He doesn’t feel as weird as he thought he would, as he probably should. Every conflicting feeling from the F-14 is returning in waves. He’s helpless to resist the pull of the tide. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

 or;

Jake's apartment floods and his only other option is to stay with the last person in the world he wants to spend time with. Shenanigans ensue.

***

there's money for the taking (and the happiness we all deserve) (64769 words) by thegeckbros

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Age Difference, it's 10ish years, Past Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Power Dynamics, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Casual Sex, author built a very elaborate world for like no reason, Tags May Change, Humor, or at least i like to hope, Explicit Sexual Content, Daddy Kink, like it’s a sugar DADDY au so it comes w the territory but still it’s there and it’s heavy

Summary:

“So, what, one of the richest dudes in New York wants to be your sugar daddy?”

“Kinda?” Jake sits back up, straightening up and turning his body towards Javy. “He doesn’t want like sex or anything. He just needs someone to pretend to date so his uncle and PR team get off his back about his reputation.”

or

a sugar daddy au in which jake is a struggling law student, bradley's a billionaire, and they weave a tangled web

***

Speak Softly, Love (67000 words) by Renai_chan

Additional Tags: Mafia AU, Iceman is a Mob Boss, Bradley is his heir, Icemav adore Jake, goose and carole are alive because i said so, Violence, Blood and Injury, tags to be updated as I go, Tattoos, Suit Kink, Lingerie, Rimming, Polyglot Bradley, Gun Violence, Revenge

Summary:

Jake leaves behind his crappy life in Texas and moves to California. There, he meets Bradley, a gorgeous man who works at a charity helping the homeless. They fall in love, and everything is sunshine and rainbows until he learns that Bradley is, in fact, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, heir to the empire of his godfather, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, who rules the underbelly of Los Angeles with ice-cold ruthlessness. Suddenly, Jake find himself embroiled in the dangers of the LA Mafia

***

Forever your begonia (17576 words) by MerielTLA

Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, Enemies to Lovers, Secret Crush, Secret Admirer, Flowers, Language of Flowers, Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a Little Shit, Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin, no beta we die like goose, Jake needs some romance in his life, Rooster is bad at feelings, unrequired required love, Emotional Constipation, This came out of nowhere, don´t blame me, Ice is alive, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives

Summary:

“This is not for me.” Mickey grinned like a fucking maniac as he held out a small envelope for everyone to see, pointing at the signature in it.

Jake.

The blond felt his world tilt as he frowned at the offending four letters of his name. What. The. Fuck. He pulled the card away from the other´s hand as he looked at the fancy lettering in horrified amazement.

“Oh my GOD! Bagman has an admirer?!” Paybay yelled

or

Jake Hangman Seresin had never gotten flowers...until he did.

***

hanging on to ambiguity

(34033 words) by

haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Lifeguard Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Surfer Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, First Aid, Head Injury, Mutual Pining, Protective Javy "Coyote" Machado, Protective Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Miscommunication, they're bad at talking again, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Multiple, Breaking Up & Making Up, Implied/Referenced Sex, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Drunkenness, drunk Jake is a mess, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace is So Done, Hurt Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Has Daddy Issues, Parental Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Unhealthy Relationships, you might not like Bradley in this one (but you can still love him), Hospitalization, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, everyone gets therapy

Summary:

an accident on the beach, a lifeguard to the rescue, and the repercussions of an unexpected reunion

***

it seemed so natural, darling, that you and I are here (20181 words) by haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Pilot Bradley Bradshaw, Las Vegas Wedding, Accidental Marriage, Drunken Shenanigans, Memory Loss, the inherent awkwardness of having a crush on the guy you're married to, Javy "Coyote" Machado is a Good Friend, Bradley gets his own Javy to hang out with, Sexual Content, Jealous Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, POV Alternating

Summary:

“Did we really do this?” Bradley asked. It was the first thing he had said since Jake’s brainwave and Jake was not a fan of how upset he sounded. “Are we- did we get married?”

or: what happens in Vegas...

***

you were almost too much for me (9648 words) by haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard Bradley, Past Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Returning Home, Post-Break Up, Love Confessions, Jealous Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Wealthy Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Arguing, Reconciliation, Hopeful Ending

Summary:

Jake’s ex works for his father and that complicates things when he heads back home after The Mission ***

Men Like Us (41265 words) by DancingDisaster

Additional Tags: Breaking Up & Making Up, Getting Back Together, All aboard the Bradshaw-Seresin Shitshow Extravaganza, Idiots in Love, Ice Lives By Popular Demand, A romantic dramedy about two Idiot Flyboys

Summary:

Seresin men love with reckless abandon. It’s put every man before him in the ground.

Jake refuses to be buried.

He flies like he has nothing left to lose (he doesn’t), a one man army (he is), leaving everyone else in the dust (so they don’t leave him). Admiral Kazansky claps him on the shoulder, says he expects great things from him, and Jake’s smile is feral as the rest of his flight school cohort looks on in disbelief.

Hangman, they all say, like Jake’s entire personality was a long con, and he ranks first in class.

Rooster doesn’t look at all.

(They've got history spanning the better part of a decade and they are absolutely, positively not over it.)

***

like shooting stars (12737 words) by bottledyarn

Additional Tags: Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Anxious Jake "Hangman" Seresin, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Texas, Texan Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Getting Together, Soft Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Post-Canon, Just a little pretend relationship, as a treat, Only One Bed

Summary:

“Well," the gate agent said. "Only uniformed military members and their spouses can board priority, but—”

“That works out,” Bradshaw said, his voice tinny and distant in Jake's ringing ears. “Because this is my fiancé.”

If Jake hadn’t been able to choke down a piece of toast this morning, he thought he might be light-headed enough to just pass out right then and there.

--

Jake is trying to fly home for Thanksgiving and not have a panic attack on the airplane. Bradley is trying to skip town and spend the holiday in a mountain cabin to distract from another Thanksgiving alone. Between the two of them, they might both get where they need to go.

***

learning steps (20530 words) by vannral

Additional Tags: Friendship, Getting Together, Oblivious Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Idiots in Love, Pining, POV Outsider, Instructor!Bradley, Teaching, Protective Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Students, Reunions, Eventual Sex, Happy Ending

Summary:

”So, an instructor?”

A straight hit. Bradley shifts uncomfortably on the leather seat and clears his throat. ”… Yeah.”

In which Bradley becomes an instructor after the mission, Jake keeps showing up to his classes and his students are very curious about their dynamic.

***

unsportsmanlike conduct (16871 words) by ginnydear

Additional Tags: alternative universe, NFL, Enemies to Lovers, Bickering, Minor Injuries, Sexual Content, tweets as a plot device, everyone's alive because I say so

Summary:

He didn’t expect there to be highlight reels of him and Jake Seresin arguing and jawing at each other after their first game against each other. His Uncle Mav’s recorded it, saying it’s the beginning of his long, successful career - to have a rival.

 Bradley thinks it’s a pain in the ass.

 or - the hangster nfl au

***

one foot left, and then we're going down swinging (15944 words) by SaintClaire

Additional Tags: Dagger Squad, I put Hangman through the washing machine, but he's fine he comes back out, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, this is my sand pit, Found Family, life affirming kissing but everyone's pants stay on, for now, attempted abuse of barnyard poultry (not by Hangman), the horse lives, uhhh I don't think this is whump because I kiss it better, but if not let me know, damn good piloting skills, everyone has emotions

Summary:

“I’m still here.” he says, because it helps Bradley to be reminded sometimes. For all he’ll mouth off about Jake never shutting up, the sound of Jake’s voice can get him to drop the rigid set of his shoulders and relax, sit a little easier in the cockpit. “Still on your wing, Roo, just a little further away than normal.”

Jake gets shot down on a mission, tracker blown to smithereens and on his own in enemy territory. The thing about Hangman is that he might be a damn good pilot but that means he comes with the bloody-mindedness to see his shit through. He's got a family to get back to.

***

all my roads lead back to you (17094 words) by liadan14

Additional Tags: Secret Relationship, Secret Marriage, nonchronological storytelling, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Needs A Hug, Jake Seresin Needs A Hug, Communication via interior design, Accidental Marriage, the inherent romanticism of joint financial decisions, Alternate Universe: they weren't exes during the movie, they were just very bad at being a couple, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Size Kink, Jake pavlovs Bradley into having a size kink, just trust me on that last one, outsider pov, Relationship Reveal, Polyamory Negotiations, implied threesome, Implied past Icemav, Current Mav/Penny, Maverick about extremely unhealthy relationships: it was acceptable in the 80s, Penny and Bob are vying for the only braincell in the team championship

Summary:

“Where does this leave us?” Bradley asks eventually.

Jake snorts. “In what way?”

Bradley shrugs. “I don’t know. Emotionally, physically. Legally.”

Jake thinks he might be dizzy. He hasn’t drunk that much tonight, but he has been wondering about the answers to that question for a long time. Finally talking about it…it barely even feels real. “Let’s start with the last one,” he says. “That sounds like the easiest part.”

“Well,” Bradley says gamely. “Legally speaking, I think we’re, like, one piece of paper away from being married.”

***

never had a heart to mend (3735 words) by un_familiar

Additional Tags: Miscommunication, Cheating, (but not really i swear), Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, sorry this took a month to write thats embarrassing, Post-Canon, what do you call pining when youre already dating them, sorry about this (lying)

Summary:

Bradley won’t stop looking at him with concern, laying kisses on his bare back and asking softly, “Are you okay,” until Jake wants to scream You know what you’re fucking doing to me, but he can’t or he won’t and he’s never felt this helpless in his life. The best he can manage is a soft, “Just tired,” turning back into Bradley’s embrace and thinking God, just let me keep this.

***

of a feather (2501 words) by lilgreyarea

Additional Tags: Kid Fic, Halloween, Trick or Treating, Fluff, Post-Canon, Getting Together, (kinda), idk it’s just cute fluffy nonsense

Summary:

jake and his three-year-old daughter, sophie, run into bradley while trick-or-treating

***

The death of piece of mind (27595 words) by MerielTLA

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, Rooster is bad at feelings, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Amnesia, I blame the title song, Protective Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Injured Rooster, no beta we die like goose, Miscommunication, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, It was supposed to be heavier but it evolved on its own, Hangster, sereshaw, IceMav, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon

Summary:

Last time he had seen Jake, had been fourteen months ago. More than a year since Bradley had escaped, like a coward, and had completely lost contact with the man his body missed with a strength that terrified him. The man that had been there for him as he had woken up, disoriented and scared. The man that had taken care of him, as he fought against his ruined leg and a fucked-up mind.

The one he had abandoned, at the first chance he got.

The man that was his husband, the one he didn’t remember.

 Or Bradley left after losing his memory and forgetting his relationship with Jake, but now he has begun to remember and it's time to get his hubby back. ***

How do you like your coffee? (23355 words) by WaffleToaster

Additional Tags: Memory Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Accidents, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Injury Recovery, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Summary:

Javy receives the first call after Jake makes an emergency landing on the tarmac and Bradley has to deal with the complications that arise.

“Do we get along now?”

“We do, yes. We’re.. good friends.”

“That’s good. Cause you seem like a nice guy, Rooster.” ***

lover be good to me (18920 words) by haridwar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Baker Bradley, Long-Distance Relationship, Birthday Fluff, like literally so much of it, this one is super birthday centric, Strangers to Lovers, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, as per usual, Parental Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Soft Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Sex Toys, Relationship Reveal

Summary:

Jake picks a random coffee shop to go be pensive in when he receives a birthday card he doesn't want and things turn out better than he ever could have imagined

***

you hang me up, unfinished (with the better part of me no longer mine)

(13140 words) by un_familiar

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Getting Together, Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Character Study, javy is the best friend ever, POV Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Jealousy, eventually, complete and total abuse of italics, Pining, the absolute minimum research went into this, do not look too closely at it!, Jake Is A Menace All Of The Time, javy and natasha are sick of them!, Miscommunication, Eventual Fluff

Summary:

There are a million things standing between Jake Seresin and his soulmate–gender, Jake’s tendency to overthink and run his mouth, the fact that his soulmark is high up on his ribs, hidden, the bruises his dad leaves, but the biggest one is probably the simple fact that he has no idea how to love. ***

Got to Make It on My Own (14196 words) by Renai_chan

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Bradley, Omega Jake, Alpha Javy, Accidental Bonding, Drunk Sex, Ex-Somethings, One Night Stands, The Inherent Dubiousness of ABO, Platonic Sex, Javy is the BEST Bro, Marking, Biting, Bonding, Being an asshole as a coping mechanism, Jealous Bradley, Knotting, Idiot Men who Don't Communicate, Angst, Happy Ending

Summary:

Jake and Bradley spend one night together under the heavy, heavy influence of alcohol. It does not go well. But it goes worse for Jake than it does for Bradley because he wakes up with a bonding bite and his new alpha nowhere to be found.

When they're recalled for a special training detachment eight years later, Jake finds out that Bradley doesn't remember giving him the bite at all and Bradley finds out about it for the first time.

It still does not go well. ***

the long way home (5982 words) by nocturnelight

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Canon, Parental Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Parental Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Raise Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives, Married Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Jake "Hangman" Seresin Needs a Hug, Healing, Therapy, And love communicated through scrambled eggs

Summary:

Jake and Bradley had come in late last night and settled into the guest room of Maverick and Iceman’s beach house. Jake had driven them both up at Pete and Tom’s insistence after Mav’s voice on the phone and Jake’s hand running up and down his back hadn’t been enough to get Bradley to stop shaking when he’d woken up screaming from a nightmare.

He's hoping being there will be good for Bradley, maybe finally get him to talk about how he's been feeling. Because Bradley's the one who's bottling everything up.

And Jake is perfectly fine. He swears.

ENJOY READING! LEAVE COMMENTS FOR THE WRITERS. WOHOO!!

[fluffysucker]

Long story short

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mob Au)

'Long story short, it was a bad time. Long story short, I survived.'

A/N: It is written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated

TW: Mentions of miscarriages. Very brief mention of unconsensual sex. If I missed anything, please tell me There is a simple discussion about the reader's money if you don't agree with the reader's/ my opinion. Please share yours

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You were trying your hardest. Gathering all your strength. Pulling all your power. The adrenaline was long gone. All you were left with was anxiety and panic. And it was taking everything in you to not let it take over. Let you crawl in bed and sink into the worst possible what-ifs.

So you kept all your senses on Natasha. It's helpful when all your focus is on her. Being in Bucky's circle of the very few close people he counted as family, you used to call Natasha your friend as well. Just like her husband, Steve, and Sam, she welcomed you with open arms. She was excited to meet you. Once Bucky was no longer hiding your relationship, he didn't stop talking about you. He was head over heels for you. The most in love he was ever in. The most in love he will ever be. So Natasha was the one pushing for the meeting. When it did happen, it went better than you ever thought.

While Natasha trusted Bucky's judgement, she wanted to see for herself. She wanted to be sure that the relationship wasn't one-sided. Natasha was fiercely protective of her chosen family, and you weren't going to be an exception.

But one look at you, and she was assured. You loved Bucky just as much as he did. And for her, that made you family. She didn't care about your bloodline or the doors of hell that your love would open. All she cared about were the big smile on Bucky's face whenever he talked about you and the big heart eyes you had when looking at Bucky. And that made a nice friendship blossom between the two of you.

But just like everything good that was in your life, it was ripped away from you once Rumlow entered your life. You couldn't keep her friendship after breaking Bucky's heart. But yours was just as broken. Despite not voicing it, Natasha understood why you did what you did. She had sympathy for you. She couldn't imagine having to leave her lover for another man she barely knew. But you did. And you suffered immeasurably.

So when Bucky asked her to be here today to look after you if things went south, she didn't hesitate. She didn't need Bucky to ask; after she saw you that day in Bucky's office, she knew she would do everything she could to keep you safe. Not just her. Along with Steve and Sam, the three of them had no problem risking it all for you. Not only because you meant the most to Bucky but also because you deserve so much better than you have.

Natasha has been a great help in distracting you from the clutter happening downstairs. Once you got to the room, before you could break down, Natasha had already started talking. You were catching up. Mostly from her side. You didn't have that much to share.

Inevitably, you started talking about her and Steve's daughter. And just like this, you were looking at adorable baby pictures and happy family moments while listening to cute stories. And that put a true smile on your face.

One would think after three miscarriages you would be envious or hateful, but you weren't. Not in the slightest. Not just with Natasha, but you were always happy to hear mothers talk about their children. Their excitement was always endearing. You were aware of how different your situation was.

Because every time, you could never help the dread filling you, sitting on the bathroom floor with the positive pregnancy test in hand and tears running down your cheeks. Or the tiny relief in your heart when the doctor would tell you that you lost the baby. It was still a painful thing to go through, but you felt a bit of ease. And for that, guilt found a home in your heart.

Lots of women prayed for this. Lots of women put money, time, and effort into having it. But there you were. You always tried to be careful and take procession, but it would still happen. And that only intensified your guilt.

Even though you wanted to be a mother for as long as you could remember, you couldn't fathom the idea of bringing a child into this world. Your world. To see your baby go through everything you were going through, after you had sworn that your kids would never see what you had seen, would have been the end of you. To be unable to protect your baby would have killed you. You would be bringing a baby that you weren't sure anybody wanted. A baby that Rumlow forced into you. A baby who would grow up in a broken family. You were barely getting by, and you were smart enough to know having a kid wouldn't change Rumlow. It would make him worse. And to bring a child into life only to suffer like you, you couldn't think of anything more selfish.

So whenever Rumlow made you lose a baby, you didn't feel as bad as you should have. It only meant you had to sit through an hour or two of Rumlow and your father blaming you for failing to do your woman's duties. As if Rumlow's anger issues weren't what led you to the hospital bed, bleeding for the upcoming weeks, Exactly why you didn't want to add a child to this dilemma

You kept chatting with Natasha. The bedrooms' floor was far from Bucky's office. So you couldn't hear anything. And somehow, that was both reliving and worrying at the same time. Natasha was sure Bucky had everything under control, so she was talking about cheerful stuff, trying to ease your mind off things. And it was working.

Your chat stopped quickly when you heard the doorknob move. Both of getting into fight mood. Instantly, a breath you didn't know you were holding left you as Bucky entered the room.

"Ever heard of something called knocking, James?" Natasha tried to break the ice, as she could feel the tension and stiffness coming from your body next to her.

"Sorry if I don't knock in my own house. How rude of me." Bucky joked back, getting Natasha's hint. also a way of confirming that things went well.

"Love when you're self-aware." Natasha said as she stood up, knowing it was time for her to leave.

"Now, excuse me, I believe my husband can't live without me any longer." That pulled a small laugh from you as Natasha turned you.

"I will see you around, sweetie." Natasha told you as she went to leave, not waiting for a reply. It was like she knew you would. Will you see her around?

Natasha passed Bucky, giving him the encouragement smile she knew he needed. Then she left. Silence filled the room. Only the sound of your breathing. Bucky was the first to break it.

"It's all done." It was a simple statement. So simple, but you needed to hear it. He had to say it.

"It's all taken care of. You don't have to ever think about them again. They won't hurt you anymore. You're safe now."

There was no way Brock Rumlow and Alexander Pierce were getting out of the warehouse he was keeping them in. They were as good as dead. They had no men to fight for them. They sold them for the right price, Bucky's protection, and the promise to work with Bucky in the future. In addition, Bucky was going to take his sweet time with them. The slowest, most torturous death ever. So yes, you were safe.

You wanted to cry. Happy tears for the first time in your life. Tears of relief. A burden that had been keeping you tied down for so long was finally gone. You were free.

"I don't know how to thank you." It was sincere. You can never thank him enough. He did so much for you.

"You don't have to." He would have done more to ensure you got out of this life. Way more if it was required.

"Everything will be back in your name tomorrow." It was your money. Your empire now. You get to decide what you want to do next. And Bucky wasn't going to take that away from you.

But you didn't want it. It felt tinted. It felt haunted. It was coated in your blood and tears. And you didn't know if you would ever be comfortable using it. However, having the conversation with Bucky again to keep it all because he would know what to do with it better was going to be pointless. So you didn't say anything.

Silence sat between the both of you again. Neither of you knows what to say. So much to be said. So much hanging in the air. But how can you approach it?

"Now, you can leave if you want." It was so difficult to say. However, Bucky knew he had to give you a choice. Maybe you wanted to end this chapter in your life. Walk away and never look back. Cut ties with everything that might remind you of the battles you fought. It would hurt him immensely, but he would understand and support you.

"Do you want me to?" Your voice was above a whisper. You were the one always offering to leave, and he would turn it down. But there was too much at risk then. Now, there wasn't. Maybe your desperate need for him made you read too much into things. Your blind love for him made you wish for things. And maybe you weren't on the same page.

But if you left, where would you go? You had no place to go. You had no family, and Rumlow made sure you lost the small number of friends you had. Other than Bucky, you had no one. So if you left, you would be alone. And that scared you. But also, you were too big of a problem to burden Bucky more. However, you couldn't help the question from slipping past your lips.

"Never." Bucky's answer was immediate. He signed as he moved to sit next to you on the bed, holding your hand between his. His touch was comforting as always.

"I never want you to leave, doll. Not again." Even the thought of you leaving was too cruel.

"I should have stopped you the first time. I should have fought for you. I should have stood in everyone's face."

"Everything that happened to you was because of me."

Guilt filled every fibre of Bucky's being. He should have burned the world down for you. Instead, he handed you to the wolves. You were about to tell him that wasn't true. That there was no stopping you. That you thought you were doing the right thing for the both of you. But he didn't let you.

"I chose the easy way out. I gave up too quickly. And you paid for it."

Nothing you could say would make Bucky see things differently. Every time he saw the scars on your body, he was reminded of the coward he was. It hurt Bucky to think how the only time in his life he wasn't brave enough was for you. Because who doesn't fight for his love? Bucky would give everything for you to forgive him.

"If you give me a chance, I will live the rest of my life making it up for you. I will show you my love. I will make you my world. My everything. My life. My girl"

Every word that left Bucky's mouth was genuine. He meant it. You were the thing Bucky lived for.

"Bucky." And you felt his sincerity. And it brought you to tears because you couldn't be what he wanted you to be.

"I'm too broken."

A part of you was ashamed to say it out loud, but it was true. But what you had gone through broke too many things in you. After finally being free, you saw how damaged you were.

"No, doll, you aren't. And you will never be." It was painful to hear you talk about yourself so negatively.

"But I'm. I'm not the person you fell in love with. I'm barely the shell of her. You don't want this."

Nobody would want this. Nobody deserved to be with this. You couldn't repay Bucky's kindness by throwing more on his plate. And you were sure he wouldn't want you anymore.

"There isn't a version of you that I don't want. There isn't a time when I'm not hopelessly out of my mind in love with you. I need you just as much as I need the air to live. I'm in pieces without you. I was a dead man before and without you. You are my revival."

"We will take it as slow as you want. Everything will be at your pace. And I will be by your side at every step of the way. Every bump. Every hardship. I will be here. I will hold your hand through it all."

If you thought what you went through was going to drive Bucky away, you were wrong. It only made Bucky admire you more. You were a fighter. A survivor. And it's time you rest. It's time for him to take care of you. And he would do it gladly.

With your current emotional and mental struggles, hearing Bucky announce his profound love for you and his willingness to be your rock and support made you break down into sobs.

"Doll, what's wrong?" Bucky got worried as your sobs got louder. Did he say something wrong? He would take it back right away.

"I don't deserve you." You blurted it out between your sobs. Today's emotions are finally catching up to you. Everything he did and was willing to do for you

"You deserve better. But if you give me the chance, I will live my whole life cherishing it." Bucky would worship the ground you are walking on if you became his again.

"I never loved someone so much before. You are the only one I have. The only one I have ever had." You wrapped your hand around his neck, wanting to hide in him. And he pulled you closer to him. You laid a small kiss on his neck as a sign that you wanted this too. You wanted to have him be yours again. You wanted the good in life. And Bucky was the best. Bucky took your sign and couldn't help but smile. He had you back.

You stayed like this for a bit, ravishing in the moment. His hands were rubbing your back softly.

"Maybe we should take that trip to Thailand." Bucky said as he felt you move away.

"I still have the flight tickets." A genuine laugh left you that warmed Bucky's heart, making his eyes shine.

"I think we are a couple of years late for this plane." Your hands stayed in Bucky's, refusing to sit without his touch on you somehow.

"Nonsense. We can still make it." With his other hand, Bucky wiped away the remaining tears on your face.

"If you say, though." Talking about the trip you were planning right before everything went bad was heartwarming. Like you would be able to pick up from where you left.

"But I need to go shopping first."

"First thing in the morning. All my cards are yours. Then we can go to the airport." Starting from this moment on, Bucky was going to get back to his favourite hobby in the world. Spoiling you. And god, was he about to spoil you like there was no tomorrow.

You knew he wasn't joking. Bucky was going to go above and beyond for you. His eyes showed his determination. And it felt marvelous to know that in this cruel world, there was someone who wanted you so much. And that someone was Bucky Barnes. You were lucky.

Unable to resist the urge, you went back to hiding into his neck, loving the way you fitted against him. So perfectly. Like he was made to hold you. You wanted to stay like this forever. Safe and secure in his arms. Wanted and desired in his eyes. Loved and cherished in his heart. You wanted the things only Bucky could give you. You wanted Bucky.

"Please, don't leave me."

"Never, doll. I'm not going anywhere."

You knew you were going to be okay. You were going to be fine. You were in the clear. You were out of the woods.

Taglist: @ozwriterchick @vicmc624 @pattiemac1 @kandis-mom @dexter99

[drghostwrite]

Until my Last Breath

Okay so this one didn't win the vote but per special request by @maiveeetheone I’m going to write it! Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Pairing: Regina mills x pregnant!reader

TW: mentions of blood, almost miscarriage, kidnapping and minor torture.

Summary: Regina’s mother, Cora, returns and tries to turn her dark again but Y/N, her wife, has given her everything she’s ever wanted: true love, family, marriage, power and now a baby. What happens when she stands in the way of Cora’s sinister plans.

******************************************************** You sat across the conference room table as Regina conducted the meetings, it was for the town so Sheriff Swan, along with David and Snow, Mr. Gold, Regina the mayor, Zelena, a couple others and you, now you weren’t only married to the mayor and carrying her child but you helped run the hospital. You were Chief of surgeries after Dr. Whale had that taken away with the Daniel incident.

“So right now we’re using funds to help with remodeling of the school, so…” Regina was doing a funds recap and taking with Snow about what would need to be done and you started to drift off staring out the window. You ran your hand over your swollen bump feeling your baby kick and knowing that Regina’s voice was soothing to your unborn child even though she was talking finances for Storybrooke. You began to daydream about mornings where she would wake up with that slow morning growl, it made you feral for your wife and she knew it.

“Y/N…Y/N?” you heard her calling your name and it snapped you back to reality, back into the conference room with its white walls and black and white modern decor. Regina was looking at you amused, she could only imagine what had stolen your attention but had a good idea it was her and the baby.

“Oh yea, so as of right now we’re okay, we thought of possibly coordinating with the schools to give more volunteer opportunities to the kids, but we also have to discuss my leave, due to the Dr. Whale situation we’ll have to find a replacement for my maternity leave.”

“Well how about Zelena?” Regina asked, her relationship with her sister had grown tremendously, in fact that’s the only other person besides Emma and the Charmings that she’d trust with her life and family’s life.

“And what use would she be?” Asked the skeptical Mr. Gold.

“Well I mean she is a trained midwife.” Snow suggested.

“Because of a curse,” Emma reminded.

“And I’m a trauma surgeon because of the curse, Snow you’re a teacher even though it was a curse it created a version of us, a true version of us with all the training and skills," Regina watched you a grateful look in her eyes, “All I’m saying is that we give her a chance, I can set her up to assist Dr. Whale and keep him in check while I’m out and I can have Blue and the other fairies or nuns, whatever, check-in and help with outpatient care.”

Everyone exchanged looks and Regina mouthed a thank you, they then agreed that you were right and that’s the plan they’d go with. You discussed a few more minor things and then decided that it was time for everybody to go home after a long day, you stayed in the conference room until everyone was gone and then retreated to your office. You have an office at the hospital but it's in a secure part due to dealing with patients and HIPAA info so days like this Regina converted one of the old conference rooms into an office for you. It wasn't as big but she made sure to have the comfiest chairs and couches, it was decorated very modernly like her office with contrasts of vibrant forest green instead of the complete black and white, she had your favorite flowers on the desk, orange hibiscus flowers with a towering monstera plant in the corner both enchanted to never die. You had couches and chairs with a large rug on one side like her office and you had a bookshelf wall and a built-in mini-bar that quickly turned alcohol-free when you found out about the pregnancy, there was also a portion that pushed into a secret room like her vault allowing you to keep sensitive information. She wanted to make sure that you were comfortable, in your office and that it could be an escape for you considering what you did on a daily basis and the fact that she got to be closer to you during the workday, able to visit whenever and for whatever she wanted.

You finished some reports for the day and made your way down the hall to her office, you knocked and heard her call for you to come in. You walked in and before you could shut the door you felt arms wrap try and wrap around your waist but instead your bump blocked the little arms.

"Y/N!!!" you reached down and ruffled Henry's hair, and then ran a hand on his back looking up to make eye contact with Regina, she watched the interaction and her heart swelled, Henry loved you but he didn't take the idea of a third mom the easiest at first. Now don't get me wrong he was great and excited about a sibling but he had a hard time, with the whole new mom thing, he never called you mom he always said his mom's wife or your name, and he also wouldn't ever come to you either he went to Regina or right to Emma one time he even went to Snow before you knew. You wanted nothing more than to let him trust you so ever since the wedding you've been earning his trust, so it meant the world to Regina to see him so excited to see you and she knew it meant the world to you.

"Hey buddy, you have a good day?" you glanced down at him as he looked up at you.

"Yea we had a field trip today and then David offereed to take me to the stables to go riding."

"Oh really?" you smirked, looking back up to Regina as she just shook her head. "Well, then does my brave knight need me to drop him off?"

He laughed, "No, he's here, I just wanted to come in and see you before I went over, so I made him stop."

"Well in that case have fun, be safe, and take some pictures so I can brag to the nurses at work." you leaned down and kissed his hair as he hugged you tighter, he then ran back out of the office, but before the door closed you heard him yell back, "Bye, Moms!" You tuned looking at Regina, she got up walking over to you, a tear rolled down you face and she swiped it away letting her hand linger on your cheek and you leaned into the touch, she had her other hand holding yours running her fingers over your wedding ring.

"He really does love you." her coffee-brown orbs looked into your emerald green ones, as more tears ran down your face for her to swipe away.

You laughed, "God these pregnancy hormones are killing me."

“Darling, I…”, all the sudden you heard a crash outside, Regina turned and moved to the window. You held her hand in both of your as she reached to move the curtain.

“What the he…” that’s when she heard the moving of a cloud of smoke behind her and no longer felt the warmth of you hand, she spun on her heels and spotted the figure across the room.

“Mother? What’re you doing here?”

“Ahh sweet girl I’m here for you.”

“Where’s Y/N, What did you do with her?”

“You mean that peasant you call a wife,” she laughed at her daughter in front of her waving her off, “she’s in a safe place or at least it’s safe for a normal person, but not sure about her and the bastard child of yours.”

“No Mother that’s my wife and my baby, biologically both me and Y/N. She has more heart and passion and power then you’ll ever know and she loves me, truly loves me and Henry and I’ve never doubted her for a day, I LOVE her.”

“Oh darling you just live the idea of her.” Regina was done talking she whirled a fire ball, grabbing the spare dagger from the sheath attached under the desk, courtesy of you, and whirled it in that direction. She watched as smoke cleared and the dagger was no where to be found she prayed that she at least stunned her mother.

———time jump———

You were slumped forward and felt the restraints digging into your wrist and ankles as they were tied to the legs of the wooden chair. You were quickly jolted awake by Cora grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. Ugh, she let out a disgusted sigh and shoved you face away turning back, you watched as she walked out of the room into a smaller side room, looking around you realized you were in an older cabin, wait this was the cabin that’s hidden in the woods the enchanted cabin that… you heard heels coming towards you and turned your head, Maleficent and Cora both stood looking at you. Maleficent knelt down in front of you studying your features, she stared at your bump deciding whether or not to touch, as if it wasn’t real, you thrashed in the seat and she looked into your eyes, she ran a hand over your bump feeling your baby move.

“Cora, this is not the way to do this.” Maleficent spoke out but kept eyes trained on you as you gave her the smallest most gently terrified look you could.

“I decide how I do things, you’re just here for support on getting her back.”

“But her wife and unborn child?” Maleficent stood going to Cora.

“If they’re gone nothing will ever stop her from going back to dark and staying there.”

You started yelling into the gag and thrashing in the seat. Cora moved over to you and you felt as she slapped your face the sting of her fingers meeting your skin and the ringing in your ear her ring sliced into the skin of your cheek and you felt the blood run down, you knew you would have a black eye. She then grabbed the gag sliding it from your mouth.

“I swear if you lay a finger on Regina or my baby… so help me God.”

“Oh darling, I see why my daughter loves you.”

“My WIFE will be here before you know it and when she gets here nothing will stop her or me from destroying you!” You yelled at the woman in front of you. She bent down getting in your face, “nothing will stop me from getting my daughter back.”

“She’s not your little play toy anymore.” Again you felt a slap this time blood ran from you lip. You looked up and saw a shadow go by the window, Cora walked back over to Maleficent and retreated into the other room as you sat there hearing them argue. You watched as the shadows moved towards the door and then the door cracked, revealing Snow and Regina was right behind she pushed past the other woman and rushed to you, she ran her fingers over the cut on your lip.

“God what did she do to you?” Regina undid the restraints pulling you up into a hug.

“I’m okay…” you trailed, she pulled back placing a hand on your bump and running it over your large 8 month swollen stomach, “the baby too, we’re both okay.”

“Regina!” Snow yelled before being thrown against the wall by Cora, she used her body to shield you from her mother, taking her stand.

“My brave girl, protecting the mother of her child, but I ask who protects you, who truly keeps you from falling back into darkness.”

“I do.” You spoke up moving to stand next to her. Cora laughed out loud and Maleficent moved to check on Snow who was waking up, “Maleficent, what’re you doing?”

“This is wrong Cora.”

“And who are you to decide what is right and wrong, you destroyed villages and kingdoms with a single breath during your dragon days.”

“Mother my reign of terror and bloodshed is over, I’m never turning back.”

“Oh shut up stupid girl, I’ll show you terror.” She flicked her wrist and you felt a pain rip through your abdomen, it was so hard it brought you to your knees and you reached grabbing Regina’s arm as she turned to you.

“Oh God… Oh God the baby.” You let out a moan as tears started to fall, you felt the pain coming and going in waves, you looked down and saw a small stream of blood running down your leg.

“Mother, Stop!” Regina shouted and you watched as her magic collided with her mothers. You fell forward now on hands and knees as another pain tore through your body, you felt hands come around your sides and Snow tried getting you up.

“We need to get you out of here,” she let you lean into her and tried guiding you out the door. You reached a hand down brining it up coated in blood, again wincing in pain.

“But…but Regina,” you stuttered out in pain, letting out another moan. Maleficent placed a hand on your shoulder rubbing your arm as you tried breathing through it, “Let me save her for once you get out of here and get help before we have an injured Regina and a premature baby on our hands.” You looked into her eyes and saw she genuinely wanted to help, you slowly shook your head in agreement.

“Please get her back to me, please.”

She shook her head not breaking eye contact, “I promise, on my life.” Snow quickly turned taking you to the car as Maleficent threw her the keys,”I need to call Zelena we need to get you to the hospital.”

“No…” you struggled through another contraction.

“Y/N you’re in premature labor, there’s to much blood.”she tried reasoning with you.

“Snow if you take me all the way there…” you stopped breathing through another searing pain, letting out a low groan. “If we wait this baby won’t make it…God Snow… I won’t make it.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Okay just hold on.” You felt the car lurch forward as she pressed the gas harder.

She quickly rushed you back to the loft and called Emma filling her in, she reached over reassuring you again as you tried breathing in the passenger seat every wave coming stronger and faster. Once in the loft you were laid on Snow and David’s bed, Zelena and Emma quickly ran in the door, Zelena made her way to you. Seeing the blood on your thighs staining the white sheets red as you white knuckled the blankets, Snow brushing the sweat coated hair out of your face.

“What happened?”

“I…” you moaned, quickly being cut off by another pain.

“It was Cora she cast a spell and quick flick of her wrist and then Y/N was bent over in pain and the bleeding started.” She started to explain.

“Oh please don’t let her miscarry.” Snow said worrying.

“Don’t let me lose this baby.” You spoke out through another sharp pain.

“Labor?” Asked Emma looking to a very concentrated Zelena.

“Sort of, by the looks and sound of it mommy dearest used a pregnancy acceleration spell, if done right can work for mother and baby but if done wrong can cause a lot of problems.” Zelena explained, she lifted you shirt and felt your stomach pressing down in a few spots and releasing pressure as she felt the muscles tighten.

“Can you reverse if?” Snow asked concerned.

“I can I need to do it fast, and it will hurt like hell.”

“Will the baby be okay?”

“Y/N but you…” Snow started.

“Will the baby make it?!”

“Yes. I’m not sure the toll it will take on your body.” Zelena explained.

“I don’t care about me, you save this baby, whatever it takes you save my baby, our baby.” She slowly shook her head as you laid back against the pillows, Snow held your hand tightly understanding what could happen, Emma quickly gathered supplies and then came around to your other side, you felt Zelena swirl her hands on your bump, positioning them, you breathed through another pain.

“5 count?” She asked.

“Surprise me.” You let out a nervous breath as she nodded.

“Okay, 1…2…3…” she started before 5 not giving you much time to adjust, the last thing you heard was a bloodcurdling scream, realized it was you and then everything went black.

——— time jump———

You felt lips on your forehead and a hand holding yours, you felt tears as they landed on your hair. Slowly blinking open your eyes you realized it was your wife, she looked unscathed from events earlier. You quickly shot up on your elbows allowing the blanket to fall away revealing your bump, Regina was sitting next to the bed and laid an arm across you lap as you scooted up against the pillows resting her hand on your bump. You let out a small moan feeling the soreness in your muscles.

“Hey,” she spoke gently.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You slid your hand onto her cheek watching her eyes, she leaned into your hand.

“Well Zelena told me what happened, she told me though that you blacked out during the reversal spell.” She avoided the question.

“What happened with your mom?”

“Cora, I don’t consider her family after she went after you like that, Maleficent helped me and she pushed her back through a portal, she fell through with her though, I owe her my life.”

“Me too, how long was I out.”

“Two days, everyone has been asking about you.”

“Mmm, where’s Henry?” You rubbed at your eyes.

“With Emma and Snow and David they went out. Y/N I almost lost you, my love I’m so so sorry.” You watched as tears started to fall and you placed your hand back on her cheek, wiping tears with your thumb, she embraced the touch. You both let tears fall for a moment before she leaned forwards placing a kiss to your lips and then allowing you to lay your forehead against hers, “Y/N I will always fight for you, until I draw my last breath, I love you more than anything and I can’t wait to watch our family grow and I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“Regina Mills you make me the happiest woman alive, don’t for a minute think that I’ll ever leave you, I love you, besides the ring is already on so it’s going to take a lot more than that to scare me away.” You both chuckled.

Zelena walked down the stairs and turned coming up to you and sitting at the edge of the bed, “So mama, looks like everything went okay, you’re gonna be sore for a little while, and as of yesterday you are officially on bedrest aside from coming in to visit.”

“Thank you Z, for everything.” You gave her a gentle smile.

“Don’t mention it just promise me that you’ll rest up and come back to show me the ropes before you have my niece or nephew.” She winked, patting your leg.

You heard the lock click and watched as the door swung open at first everyone moved in slowly until they saw you, they stood shocked until Henry came running around the corner and jumped on the bed hugging around your neck the best he could with your bump in the way. Zelena took her leave joining the others in the kitchen.

“Mama I thought I lost you!” You hugged him with one arm as tears rolled down your cheeks, Henry has never actually addressed you as mom before. You felt as Regina squeezed your hand and gave you a look, you closed you eyes living in the moment.

“Henry, love you’ll never lose me, I love you little man.” He wouldn’t let go of your neck and then you realized that he was crying, Regina reached around rubbing his back, “Baby it’s okay.” She reassured him.

“I…I…I just thought I lost you, I can…can’t lose both my m…moms, or my little sister I can’t wait to meet he…her” He said through sobs. You both smiled gently at him as he clung around your neck.

“Henry love what if you got a little brother?” Regina asked gently.

“No, I think it’s a girl.”

“Oh okay.” She chuckled looking at you as you held him and rubbed his back.

“I’d say someone agrees with that.” You let out a smirk, Regina looked at you hopeful.

“Really?” You nodded and she moved her hand down feeling as your baby kicked, a tear rolled down her cheek and she leaned up to kiss you.

“I wanna feel.” Henry said turning his head and placing a hand near Regina’s feeling the baby move. He let out a toothy grin making you both laugh at your sons reaction.

He pulled away but only to curl into your side holding Regina’s hand that was spread across your bump, he started talking to the baby, you sat there content knowing that no matter what you were all loved and that you finally had the family you always dreamed of.

[saphira-approves]

OKAY time for some meta thoughts

CW: I’m discussing death and, essentially, miscarriage-adjacent topics, but for baby dragons. Figured I’d add a warning about it.

So, dragon eggs, right? In the Vault of Souls, Eragon and Saphira are told that eggs that don’t hatch for a very long time come out “strange”; we’re not given more detail then that, so let’s lay out some options.

1. Strange—this could just mean they are weird in terms of personality. Saphira says she remembers when Galbatorix spoke to her in the shell; this implies that an unhatched dragon, though not growing, is somewhat aware of itself. Can you imagine spending the first hundreds of years of your existence in a tight, cramped egg? Not growing, not changing, not developing, and yet Alive, and Aware? How long would it take for you to believe there is nothing else? How much would it mess with your mind to finally hatch, and be faced with a world SO different from what you’ve known for centuries? Yeah, they’d probably be a little bit off.

2. Deformity—it’s possible that spending too long in the egg could also result in physical weirdness. It might screw with their bone density or wing size, making them unable to fly; it might make their scales too soft to protect them, or too heavy to easily move with; it might mess up their internal organs, make them unable to breathe fire, or delicate and susceptible to illness.

3. Magic—this one is kind of out there tbh, but I want to cover it. Spending too long in the egg, unable to physically interact with the world around them—well, the dragon inside may begin magically interacting with the world around them. They may reach out psychically, or enact their will on their surroundings; they may actually learn to control their magic, better even than an Eldunarí ever would, because an Eldunarí has a frame of reference that the unhatched dragon simply would not have, because it has nothing to compare to. And then, if these magically weird dragons do hatch, what is the result? Eventually, a fully-grown dragon with control over its own magical abilities, possibly capable of weaving spells beyond the capacity or even imagination of normal spellcasters. They might even be physically affected by this relationship to magic, almost elemental in nature instead of a living creature. (Side note, I have so many OC ideas right now.)

4. Inert—similar to the petrified dragon eggs in Game of Thrones, spending too long in the egg may just… snuff them out. It may petrify them, turning them into gemstones the same hue as their shells, a la firestone in the Memoirs of Lady Trent series; or else their consciousness may simply fade away, leaving an empty shell within a shell.

Let’s explore this fourth and final idea, inspired by a post by @glbtrx. If a dragon in the shell psychically dies, somehow, leaving a body with no mind… well, hypothetically, if the body itself doesn’t die, you could just… stick another mind in there, right? An Eldunarí could essentially be reborn as a new dragon—or even a non-dragon, perhaps a dying Rider or other magician, could leave their body behind and claim a new, empty one? A powerful one?

Hm. I have many ideas now.

[romana-after-dark]

Blessed be the Fruit: Chapter 3

Commander!Joel Miller x Handmaid!Reader

Series masterlist Join dark!Romana's tag list Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Summary: You begin to realize everything is not as it seems in the Miller households.

AN: Sorry this is kinda a boring chapter but I felt I needed to do some building. Next chapter we will start getting debatched lololol but I wanted to focus more on Ellie if that makes sense?

Content and Warnings: DARK JOEL! DUB CON!

Although no violent rape happens like in TWW, reader is under systemic misogyny and a society of ritualized sex abuse. Everything other than the violent rape scenes, everything that happen in either The Handmaids Tale book or show are liable to happen here including but not limited to discussion of rape, child abuse, child marriage, ritualized sexual abuse, sexual abuse in general, acts of violence, major character deaths, mentions of miscarriage but never shown and never pregnancies we know of. Big ole homophobia warning, specifically in regards to lesbophobia. As for Joel, PIV sex, breeding kink, degrading (slut, whore etc but thing like Raider!joel) forced breeding and breeding kink, power dynamics, Joel is not the good guy but he’s also not the worst, slightly rough sex but not violent. Warnings are liable to be added as the story goes but I’ll always update. As always if I miss something please tell me, but i extensively label my warnings and in the end media consumption is your own choice. If you would like to know if this is a happy ending or not you can message me and I’ll tell you that way I don’t spoil for everyone but you can decide if this is for you.

Immersability: Reader has long hair, can conceive children theoretically. At one point, she has to pose as Ellie's mother and I know this can be loaded in terms of skin tone. I am no genetics expert but I know dark skinned parents can have white passing children, like Lional Richie and Nicole Richie. It's up to you to see if this is going to take you out of the story or not.

Only additional warning I can think of is sexualization of a minor but it's not from either of our Miller brothers.

Support writers, reblog and leave comments!

*****************************

Elizabeth was watching you in the doorway as you kneaded bread. All day she had been lurking in corners and hallways, eyeing you with that intense stare.

“Can I help you, Miss Miller?” You ask her, never daring to look away from your task. Like wild animals, eye contact could be seen as a challenge, and the wild, abrasive girl was not someone you wanted to test.

Looking around, Elizabeth checks the surroundings before scurrying up to you. “Did he hurt you?” She said, scanning the expanse of your body despite nothing but hands and neck being visible. 

A flush creeps up that you attempt to stifle as you think of last night, of Commander Miller stuffing himself down your mouth, but the concern in Elizabeth's eyes softened you. “No, he didn’t.”

She took your word rather quickly. It was clear that although she seemed to know her father was capable of harm, she was ready to push that thought away whenever possible. “Okay. good. I know that old man can get a little crazy.” She chuckles a little bit in a nervous manner as she looks up at you and hesitantly you smile back. She was something else. 

“You can relax a little, you know. With me anyway.”

You smile, but don’t acquiesce. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Miss Miller.”

“You don’t have to call me Miss. Miller. Ellie, preferably. Miss Ellie if you really need to.”

Brave girl. You suppose that’s what happens when you have strong protection of a man like Commander Miller. “You’re the firstborn daughter, Miss Miller is appropriate.”

“Not the first born daughter, actually” 

Oh, that was new. There was no reason you would know this information, know any information on the Miller family really. “Oh” was all you could manage.

“My mom and dad had a daughter before. You can’t say anything about it, my parents barely talk about it. I only found out because Gina was drinking a few years ago. I got in trouble at school and she drunkenly told me that Sarah would never have done this, blah blah blah.” She rolled her eyes, but her downcast face shows her genuine hurt. “I asked who Sarah was, she told me that was her daughter, actually her daughter before the handmaid system. She died from a terrorist attack, that’s all I know.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You were. Both of the death of the young Miller child and of how cruel Elizabeth’s mother was. The girl was privileged in many ways to be sure, but she was still a victim of Gilead as much as anyone and with her mouth, will be lucky to survive her 30’s. Commander Miller must know this, of course.

She shrugged. “It’s whatever.” She watched you braid the bread to get it ready to rise. “You’re not going to tell anyone about last night, are you?” Her voice suddenly sounded so young, vulnerable. She is just a teenager after all, no matter her rank.

“No, Miss Miller.”

A sigh of relief. “Oh thank gooood”

Your eyes widen at her taking the lord's name in vein, but she brushes you off, waving her hand. “Oh please, I’ve been questioning this shit since I was a kid. That’s how I got this bad boy.” She points to her face, the scar that cuts into her eyebrow.

Could Commander Miller… no, he wouldn’t hurt her, would he? You’ve seen how protective he was of her… did she get disciplined at school?

Your questioning look must have been obvious, so Elizabeth clarifies, seeming eager for someone to talk to. From what you could tell, Riley was her only friend. Too old for the kids, too unmarried for the wives. She spoke with pride. “When I was 10, I told Gina I wanted to be a commander. Gina told me girls can’t be commanders, I said I wanted to be the first. We went back and forth for a while, eventually I said I didn’t care about gods plan, I didn’t want to have kids…” She brushed back her hair she had down. Out of regulation. “Gina backhanded me, her wedding ring cut my eye.”

You never liked Gina. Wives weren’t someone to be liked, they were to be respected… but now you didn’t have that for her either. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” She wore her scar like a badge of honor.

“What did the Commander do?”

“You can just call him Joel to me.”

Now that made you laugh. “No way.”

“Can you at least call me Ellie? I hate being called Miss Miller.”

You sigh. “Fine, but only when it’s just us.”

She grinned at that. “Anyway, I ran out of the house and to my uncle Tommy’s. Gina doesn’t like Tommy and neither does Tommy’s wife, Deborah. Deb and Gina were yelling at Uncle Tommy that this wasn’t his business, Uncle Tommy yelling that I was his niece so it was his business, I was bleeding, it was a whole thing.” Ellie chuckled, clearly hiding the trauma with humor. It was not lost on you that she called her mom Gina. “Dad was gone on business that night so he took me to the hospital and I stayed with him that night until dad came back. He was so goddamn mad.” She chuckled at the memory. Only reason he didn’t hit her right there is I begged him not to. He told her if she ever laid a hand on me again, she’d end up on the wall.”

You knew this wasn’t the point, but something of the idea that Commander Miller was so protective of his daughter was… endearing? Turned you on? Both?

“He seems like a good dad.” You spoke honestly, setting the bread to rise.

“He’s fine, I guess.” Ellie jokes. “Won’t teach me how to read though. Says he’s worried I’ll read something I shouldn’t and get caught.”

As you clean up, you feel her eyes still on you. “Yes?”

“Did you learn how to read before?”

How old did she think you were? “Well, not at school-” You were about to tell her your mom did when she jumped in excitement.

“So you know??”

“Yes, but-”

“Can you teach me?”

“Ellie! No way! You dad will kill me!”

“No he won’t!” She whines. “I’ll make sure of it-”

“No.”

“Yup. You’re teaching me.”

That makes you turn around, facing the insolent girl with more determination. “I said no.”

“I’ll pick the lock to my dads office, I’ll steal some shit. He won’t even notice.” She began walking away.

“El-” When she walks out, you shut your mouth quickly as Lisa walks in and avert your eyes.

She speaks in a warning, taking the bread you were tasked with and setting it aside. “Don’t let the girl fool you. She’s not your friend. She’s got no filter and I’m willing to bet she’d throw you under the bus to save her own skin. That’s not an insult, but she is still a child no matter what Gilead says.”

“Yes ma’am”

She hesitates before relaying her message. “Commander Miller wants to see you tonight.” When you look up to her with a questioning glance, she cut you off. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

The less you know, the better.

*

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood outside Commander Miller’s door, trying to knock, but you couldn’t do it. Commander Miller was intimidating, and after last night, he told you he wasn’t going to waste a single drop of his cum on your mouth again…

You didn’t need to knock, Commander Miller opened the door. He seemed so different from the man you had seen last night in this very room; he was calm, collected. This was the Commander Miller you’d known before.

 “Well, don’t just stand there.” He gestured inside his office and you carefully scampered inside. When Joel closed the door, you braced yourself, wincing when he steps away from the archway. He seems to notice. “Sit down.” Commander Miller gestured to the couch, and when you sat down on the couch you expected him to lay you down, but instead he sat on the couch across the coffee table.

“You tell anyone about my daughter?”

Eyes wide, you attempt to placate what you felt was an oncoming storm. “No! No promise, please-”

Commander Miller raises a hand to hush you. “I know. I doubt you would.” He watches you for a while with that intense stare, hard eyes on you before sighing gruffly and sinking further in the chair. Arms crossed in contrast to his spread legs, black pants and a white button down; far more casual than she’d seen a man other than your husband and lover since childhood. Frozen in fear, you hand pry your gaze from his face and take in his features. Strong, alkalinen nose was always the first thing that caught your attention. He was commanding, but his soft eyes endeared trust. It was no wonder he was one of the earlier leaders of the Sons of Jacob. Commander Miller was a natural leader.

“Relax, will you?” Commander Miller brings you back to reality. You don’t respond, so he sighs, standing up as your eyes follow him. “Drink?” He asks.

This must be a trap. “No, thank you.” Handmaids weren’t allowed to drink.

Commander Miller chuckles and mutters a low “Good girl.” but sets a drink down in front of you anyway. Good girl… the term of endearment settled low in your stomach… maybe you were a harlot after all, so easy…  “You aren’t pregnant, so drink if you want.” He grabs his own drink and returns to his seat after grabbing a few items off his shelves. Books and magazines. “Listen, nothing’s happen’n tonight. You aren’t ovulating so theres no point. Let’s just… get to know each other better. I think that will make this whole arrangement less stiff.”

“This whole arrangement?”

He points his finger up and gives it a twirl, signifying the household. “All of this. I never asked for a handmaid, so I’m not exactly thrilled.”

 A small, nervous laugh escapes you. “You’re not thrilled?” Immediately you regret your attitude but Commander Miller huffs a laugh.

“I suppose you did get the short end of the stick on this arrangement.” He concedes. Still fearful, you try to keep the pose of a submissive handmaid.

“I am honored to at the opportunity for penance, Commander Mill-”

But Commander Miller waved your words away with a flick of his hand. “Joel is fine.” When he saw you about to protest, he cut you off yet again. “Joel.” He insisted. “I know my daughter’s tryna get you to call her Ellie, that’s okay too. Just don’t tell Gina.”

Commander- Joel, Joel spent the next two hours trying to get to know you here and there. He let you look at the old women’s magazines you remember your mother reading v early on and when he saw you actually reading, he allowed you to browse the bookshelves. It was dangerous, all of it, but surely this was common… Surely the commanders, wives and children broke molds sometimes… it was only human to want a connection.

And you wanted a connection. You couldn’t help but fall into him just a little bit

*

There was a big dinner being held tonight, all of the Miller’s family and friends were attending, some of which you knew. Angela had been sent over to help prepare so as to not leave it all to Lisa, so you and her were chopping vegetables for the salad that would be served shortly.

“Angela?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“The other day…” You look around the kitchen… empty… still, you speak quietly. “You called the younger Commander Miller…” another pause to check. “Tommy?”

Angela smiled and chuckled. “Yeah, I did. What about it?”

“Well… are you… and Commander Miller…” You lean in to whisper. “Outside of the ceremony?”

She turned to you, curious. “Did your Commander Miller” She mimicked your whisper. “Outside of the ceremony?”

You nod.

“I was wondering how long it would take. These men are all the same.”

A sigh of relief. “So it’s not just me.”

“No, not at all. It’s very common.”

Family began to arrive as you and Angela set up the table. Mr. and Mrs. Jones arrived along with her father and mother. Riley and Ellie attempted to run off together but Gina snapped at Ellie to socialize in the parlor. The younger Commander Miller arrived with his wife, Deborah, a mousey looking woman who never looked pleased to be here. A few others trickled in, including a man about the age of the younger Miller who Mrs. Miller promptly introduced to Ellie. 

“Commander Bedford, this is my daughter, Elizabeth, a friend of Mrs. Jones.” She glared at Ellie until Ellie curtsied.

Gina may not have noticed the man learning at Ellie, but Ellie sure did. “Do you know my dad?”

Commander Bedford began to speak. “Yes of course, but we actually have another connection, I’m your friend Riley’s uncle, I just moved back to the area, actually. I remember meeting you a few times when you were just a child.”

Disgusting. 

“Bedford!” A booming voice came from the other side of the room. Thomas Miller. “How the hell are yuh!”

Gina chastised him, but Commander Miller paid no mind. At first it appeared as if Thomas was merely friendly greeting an old friend, but the subtle way he placed himself in front of Ellie was clear to you. 

“Tommy, good seeing you.” Bedford seemed less than pleased.

“How did things go in Chicago- oh, I suppose the women don’t need to hear about this.” He chuckles.

“I suppose not.”

“Ellie sweetie, why don’t you go show Riley that painting you’ve been working on, the one you showed me last week?”

Ellie jumped at the chance, finding Riley and running away from the crowd. 

“Actually, Bedford, will you excuse me and Mrs. Miller for a moment? Joel’s birthday is coming up and we have to find a way to annoy him.”

Impressive. Bedford excused himself, and when Tommy turned to Gina, his voice was suddenly darker. “If Joel wanted her with a 40 year old man, he would have arranged a marriage months ago. Stay in your place.”

Gina didn’t back down. “My place as her mother is to find her a match.”

“You don’t care about a fuck’n match or her, you just want her out of your hair. Now knock it off before I tell Joel.”

That was enough to shut her up. You moved on to the wine cabinet to look for the wine Mrs. Miller wanted tonight, but as you are looking, Thomas Miller was suddenly leaning against the wall. “Nosy little lady, aren’t you?” and you startle at the sudden realization.

You turn and curtsy. “I’m sorry, Commander Miller, I was just-”

“You were just eavesdropping.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Yes you did, but it’s fine.” He had the same eyes as his older brother. Soft, putting you at ease. Kind. “Listen, had Gina said anything to you about Ellie or marriage recently?”

Now you were put in a position, stuck between a man you barely knew and the lady of your house. You should have loyalty to Gina, not the brother of your commander… but one looked at you like furniture and one seemed to have the young girl’s interests in mind…

“She um… She said Commander Miller spoiled her, and that the reason she wanted me was to uh… start over…”

Commander Miller rolled his eyes. “Bitch.” He looked back at you. “Only reason he married her in the first place was because he knocked her up when they were in college. Our parents made them get married so goddamn fast and then told everyone Sarah was premature.” Chuckling, he seemed like he expected you to laugh along, but you were. He stops, dropping the charm and turning only slightly serious. “You can relax, you know -” Tommy calls you by your name. Your real name. Not Ofjoel. “That’s your name right? Angela told me.” Angela, not Ofthomas. “It’s fine. I swear I’m not like other commanders. I’m a cool commander.” He tries to joke, but it lands flat. “Sorry, I don’t really know how to be normal about this. I know Joel is intense but I just can’t seem to fit into the whole strange new world bit.”

He seemed genuine. Thomas, Angela and Ellie seemed like the first real, genuine people you’d met in years and it was jarring… but you didn’t want to ruin it. “It’s okay. I’m just not good at acting normal. This is all I’ve really known.”

He looks sad at that. “Yeah, you’re pretty young aren’t you?”

You nod.

“I’ll let you be but… if Gina says anything to you about Ellie, wanting to set her up or something… can you please tell me? Or tell Angela to relay the message?” 

“I will.” You promise, and you intend to keep it. She was just a kid, after all.

The wine you needed was almost out so you went to the wine cellar to fetch another bottle. As you descend the stairs into the cool basement, your mind reels from the revelations of the last few days. What the hell was going on with the Miller household?

However, when you open the door to the cellar you find another secret of the Miller household and this time you thought you might be the first to find out.

Riley jumps off where she had Ellie pressed up against the shelves, arms disentangling from each other, lips unlocking in panicked gasps. Riley’s blue dress rustles as she quickly steps back from Ellie’s white, the colors separating as they did.

You watch them in shock as the two teenage girls gape at you, fear in their eyes and red flush in their face. A face that said they knew they were going on the wall.

*****************

Dun dun DUUHHHHHHH

Yeah sorry, Deborah is an oc lol I just could not picture Maria as a wife lol

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie...

And fucking Gina keeps getting worse.

Again, not a thrilling chapter but I think it sets the stage of a few relationships.

I promise next chapter we'll finally get more of Joel

please let me know what you think!

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