#like I had hope but I didn’t actually think we’d get a sequel

[nikosasakis]

my brain, currently: rwrb sequel !!! rwrb sequel !!! rwrb sequel !!! rwrb sequel !!!

[rise-my-angel]

Perilous Companions

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 24.7k

Warnings: Depictions of violence, mention of suicide, non graphic torture, hostage situations, heavy angst, angst/hurt comfort, trama related flashbacks, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, canon divergence

Notes: This ones a big boy with some big things happening. Not everything will make sense yet as its part of a bigger unfolding narrative, and certain moments are intentionally skipped over for the same reason. Knowledge of the 2nd game not needed as its not canon. A lot of nerves went into making and posting this one, so I hope it doesn't disappoint you. Sequel to Melancholy Interlude, part of the Confused Warmth series.

It was a cruel joke that you were this ill. If you had to trace it back, you think you may have been bitten by a mosquito at some point. Of all the things you could catch, you were falling apart from something as small as a bug bite. You were always scared of being bitten by any sort of insect as a kid after your neighbour had come home from school talking about how you could get sick and die from one bite.

Your only saving grace being that a cordyceps infection didn’t incubate for this long, and as far as you were aware, didn’t result in how bloodshot and feverish you were nor did it result in vomiting a liquid disgustingly close to black. You had guessed for a while that in the old world the man in front of you had either was a scientist or worked somewhere in that field. 

Whatever research your current companion had done though clearly didn’t encompass all illnesses, but at least you finally were sick long enough he wasn’t constantly terrified you’d turn. Neither you or the rambling man pacing above you had any clue what to do about it, but he somehow seemed more worried then you. Looking at the map in his hands as he ran his mouth non stop. 

You had insisted you were fine until about ten minutes ago when you felt dizzy and would have completely collapsed onto the ground if Seth wasn’t there to fail to catch you in time, at least before you hit your head. Travelling with someone wasn’t what you wanted, you had been alone for months but you felt awful when a bumbling, older, tearful man came across you asking for help getting to his wife near Salem. Only to have him confess when you got sick that he was just lonely and wanted company. 

Now you were just too exhausted to get angry. Letting him travel with you as he desperately tried to make you like him despite your very purposeful choice to stay away from any people. Briefly you had wondered if he was a plant, tricking you to walk you into a trap right back to the place you were running from. Part of you still wondered that, but now you were too sick to do anything about it. 

“We’d have to go to every clinic just to see whose there, but that’s way too big to check.” Seth’s messy hair was flopping around with every spin in place he did, the rhythmic movement distracting your already fuzzy brain. “You said no to everything else I suggested, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” 

Your head smacking back against the tree you were currently sat up against shook your spinning vision even more. Squeezing your eyes shut you let out a shaky breathe that burned your esophagus as it flowed upwards.  There was an extremely expired pack of gum a few kilometres back when you were sifting through an old abandoned store front. The bile still coating your mouth had you hating yourself for passing that up now. 

“You sure we can’t go to Boston?” One eye blinked open, a kaleidoscope of orbs floating in your vision as Seth’s figure stood right in the suns path. He was standing with the map crinkling in his hold as he looked hopeful at you. “They have doctors, it’s an actual city they’ll have medicine won’t they? We can get you a bed and everything. We’re practically right there, you can see the walls from the top of one of those hills for god sakes.”

Your fingertips tapped against the grass beneath you as your jaw clenched. Forcing yourself up, the tree worked as a main support for your legs that trembled from the exertion. The man seemingly perked up at your slowly approaching self. He stared at you, your name coming out as a question when you got within a few feet. “Is that a-” 

Jumping back, Seth gasped as you ripped the map out of his hands. Your face flat as your eyes shifted to the side to stop yourself from glaring. “A no...I’m guessing it’s still a no.” 

Your legs wobbled as your vision spun trying to read it. Kneeling down you rested it over a bent knee as your finger followed a path you already were dabbling in planning out. “You ever been in a QZ before?” 

Looking up at him, Seth had a shifting and sheepish face akin to something like guilt. “I spent some time in one for a while, a little bit in Boston.” Your heart skipped a beat, forcing your gaze down to the destination you had in mind willing away the swirling anxiety. “That’s why we need to go though. I have friends there, they can help you- wait where are you going?” 

The beating of your heart pounded erratically. You wanted to be alone for this very reason, you had no idea what kind of friends were waiting for him, or you, in Boston of all places. There was no one you knew anywhere near such an area, so you walked away. In the opposite direction of his suggestion. 

Seth called you again, “I thought you needed to rest.” 

Pace picking up you pulled the other strap of your bag on both your shoulders properly. “I’m going west.” Pairing up with this man was foolish, heading in the complete opposite direction of where you were headed was even more foolish. 

His voice was getting more and more grating. “We just came that way, didn’t we go to Massachusetts for a reason?” 

Heading down a slight hill full of ragged dirt clumps and drop offs only bang around the blurring migraine in your head more. It wasn’t killing you yet, so you just didn’t bother stopping for it. “No, you wanted to go to Salem, I wanted to be alone.” 

Sputtering, Seth wailed his arms as he slipped and tripped over his feet down the hill with a grace that only assured you that he’s likely spent his entire life in and out of some halfway sizable apartment Fedra probably threw his way. “I was just trying to help.” 

Your mind was already made up. You’ve been trying to get out of this state for months and everything kept pulling you back in. But their unwillingness to let you go spoke a different story, the people you’ve encountered since that have tried to trick or lead back to that room you ran from. 

Seth was saying something, but you tried to tune it out until he was too loud. The sun was setting in a gold that shined off of the decay around you. Travelling the outskirts was longer, a much longer path but if you were being honest with yourself? Just because you were more scared of what other people were capable of, doesn’t mean the shrieks didn’t haunt you every time they echoed through the emptiness. 

It didn’t take long for Seth to overtake your strides. Longer legs and too much energy compared to your muscles begging to sit once more. You so desperately wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that maybe just once since that day you could meet one person who you didn’t have to leave your guard up for. But you couldn’t. 

You were the only of your kind they ever seen, and it didn’t matter who told them what. He had his sights set on you and so did everyone else. Were they hoping to pull you back because they were too stubborn to give up? Or were they truly so delusional that they just didn’t care. The arguments you spied on seemed to tell you something divided them greatly but at this point you didn’t have anything to go off of. 

You had enough scuffles with them to know they were willing to be violent to get you. You knew why they wanted you and it was a fate that terrified you. You saw the remnants of what they had before you, and now? It was a fate you knew would be worse. Their willingness to beat the air out of your lungs had you supposing that having you in one piece wasn’t required.

It was only months ago when a few men came across you as you realized that it wasn’t just a small group that were involved. Somewhere along the lines, three men in the fireflies approached you and when you refused to even hear them out? That’s when they left you with a fair few more scratches then you gifted to them. 

Bruised and covered in mud from being kicked down a steep forest hill, you could hear the small group of men on a radio, but their words overpowered in your head from noise. The only words made out from what you could hear past the ringing the fall had smashed into your head. “....I don’t care, just tell say it’s Owen...” 

More static noise blasting out as you sunk your nails into the muddy hillside pulling you upwards onto your knees at least. Biting your lip so forcefully it had cracked and drawn blood by the next morning, you held the cries of pain back as your muscles strained to drag your body behind a tree. 

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you cradled your side now dripping blood from the ripped open fabric once covering you. The other occupied with gripping your shoulder tight as each twitch of your body shot a current of pain through what might be a strain.

Finally a response over their radio rung out, your jaw tensed as you breathed deeply in and out your nose. “..can make it in a few days...yes ma’am....Gran-” Was it the distance cutting his voice off, or was it your own heavy breathing invading your senses? You didn’t know. It was hard to focus. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to go back for real answers, or if a part of you still clung to seeing the man who had his hired thugs strap you to a chair as soon as they got their hands on you. He barley even looked at you like his own, and neither did his partner look at you anything but a specimen. 

You being this sick wasn’t the plan, and you knew making it wherever they were headed in one piece wouldn’t be easy. Not even sure if any of them would be there anymore by the time you got there. They had working cars afterall, and you only had two feet. Already your head was dizzy, but it felt wrong to turn away, leave it alone. You could just run from them, head far North until you reach the border and forget all of this. 

But you couldn't. They should have gotten what they wanted, so why wasn’t it enough? 

Now though, in the early hours of the morning, it was impossible ignore what you had heard the next few subsequent nights. Listening to this man ramble on what was no doubt some kind of radio. Foolish enough to think that you’d feel comfortable sleeping anywhere near him now he assumed he wouldn’t be heard or caught. Sprinkling hints of a deception that became harder to push away. Someone far more collected and confident then the bumbling coward presented to you. It chewed and gnawed in your mind throughout that night. 

He didn’t see you coming, knelt down faced away before having his body grabbed by the back of his shirt and tossed a few feet to the ground. Flipping onto his back, he stood up slowly to see you feet away from him. Exhausted and pushed to an edge. He tried placating it but only got as far as your name before you cut him off. 

“Why do you want me to go to Boston so badly?” You pulled from something attached to your belt, a thick yellow rope long and flopped down to the side. 

Seth’s face slowly melting off it’s aloof bravado. Something deeper inside brewing that you only felt your body tense at. “I don’t know what-” 

The voice waver made you a lot less brave but the force which you shoved it out masked it. “You led me there even after I told you no. What’s in Boston you’re so eager to get to?” 

There was an entirely new man in front of you, someone more poised with sunken eyes. As if whatever this facade was became too useless to keep up. This wasn’t a stumbling fool, but someone hiding too much. “We don’t need to do things this way-” 

You weren’t buying it though. Wrapping both ends of the rope around your hands, but kept low enough to give him hope to talk first. “Don’t make me ask you again, Seth.” 

His voice grew softer, as if to entice the part of you that wanted to grant sympathy. “It’s about you.” His gaze on your covered arm, and your heart beat harder. “I knew your Jerry and your father from the old days. They discovered a problem during testing, but you already had gotten out before he could look into it for himself.” 

You didn’t even need to ask about ‘they’. He knew them, and apparently your guess of some kind of scientist was correct. Both of them treated you like cattle once they had found you. The ghosts hovering over your life. “What problem?” 

“He never told me, and when your father died I didn’t think it mattered anymore. Left Jerry to pick up the pieces without his expertise. He’s replicated the work as much as he can, but the only thing your father told him only made him that much more desperate to find you. He’s a doctor not a scientist.” 

Maybe you should have been angry, upset. Dropping that on you as if you should already have known, but on the other hand it might be for the better. Jerry was cold, and uncaring. Your father was entirely too emotional, perhaps closer to disturbed than anything. “I gave them everything they wanted, what’s he desperate for?” 

The lack of blinking put you on edge even further. A look as if trying to figure out the very thing he was describing. “That I don’t know. Research has been kept under very tight watch, especially now.”

“And my father, what did he say?”

Seth’s eyes glazed with a troubled conflict, and a sorrow in his voice that told you he knew far more then he was telling you. Flashes in his eyes that spoke of a truth that sat unsettled within him. 

“He said this is the end. He said that we are all finished, and he took his own life.” 

The trickery, the trouble in his eyes, how this all kept relating back to that day. Your father taking his own life though? Something inside of you shifted unsettlingly, and not quite a loss for family. If you had even a modicum of faith in your father, you had none in his partner. “What I still don’t get is what you were planning to do with me. I mean what use would someone like me be to a lying con like you?” 

A debate flourished in his head, saying no words as he almost looked through you. The now calmness in the air, quiet and dulcet tones between you echoed eerily in your voice. You needed him to speak, you needed to know. “What do you think your last breath will feel like, Seth?” 

Eyes shutting for the briefest of moments, he let something echo in his veins. Words slipping from him in a level of defeat. “There’s a woman. A firefly-” 

“I’m already running from the fireflies-” Nothing but a bunch of make shift mercenaries playing at a war they’ve never even started to win. 

Seth shook his head, “Not this one. She’s a leader, has real goals she wants We can trust her, she can help.” You instinctively gnawed at your bottom lip, unwilling to believe in him. “Now if you come with me to Boston, I can get you to her.” 

Shaking your head, you bled distrust from every pore. “What’s her name?” 

His shoulders sagged as he sighed. “Please don’t make me tell you that,” the tightening of the rope between your hands squeezed as his eyes flickered from you to it and back again. “Marlene. Her name’s Marlene. She’s a good woman, your father trusted her.”

More then a few seconds passed. The wind flowing through the luscious trees nearby, and the grass grazing along the empty land. The peace nowhere near the small bubble you stood. “Why wouldn’t they have just told you what the problem was. If you worked with them, I mean. Bit odd.” 

Seth’s head tilted, a softness pleading with you as your name murmured from his mouth, “I’m on your side. I’m one of the-” 

Something snapped inside of you. Almost a scream inside your heart shouting at your survival and it consumed your vision within seconds. He wasn’t a fighter, you wrapped the rope around his neck with little defence. 

Within a second you kicked him to the ground, a struggle tumbling in the quiet grass as you flipped onto your back. The pull burning your wrists and your own legs trying to keep him down. His struggles and groans eating away at your hearing. 

You could only look down at your hold for seconds, nothing close to a fight back from a man who didn’t know how seek out for a real fight. Your breathe was forcibly rhythmic, in and out deeply as your head tilted back as you pulled. Breathing the sounds of struggle away as your eyes fell upon the nature.  

The leaves blowing on a tree, large and flourishing in the emptiness that ravaged around it standing tall and bright. The wind flowing like a calm around it like it was wishing to entrance you. Your breathing desperate to keep a deep even as your mind pushed away the burning pull on your wrists. The sight of the trees colours striking against the rest of the field hiding the groans below. 

You took your mind elsewhere, you weren’t strong enough to keep yourself in the moment. A life on the outside didn’t make you capable. It just made the struggling figures on an open ground dragging the life out of a man who knew more then you’d ever know, feel like a kind of memory you couldn’t live with if the trees didn’t exist.

Nothing like that existed here and now though. The barrel sights down to a man who helped play his part in many fights that these people didn’t deserve to be a part of. 

Once someone too sure of his own bravado, now faced you wide eyed and swallowing panic. His hands at first positioned in front of his torso as Joel approached you both, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was pulling and twisting the coarse rope in his hands. You wanted to see the trees in that rope but you only saw the purple imprints on your wrists that had stayed with you for days. 

But it wasn’t someone tricking you to your death at the other end. It was people you wrapped a new life around, and the only ones who cared about you in return. Owen pleaded. “Come on, please. I’m not going to do anything, do you really need all this?” 

Your hands hesitated, grip on the shotgun so harsh for so long it your arms had started to shake. “I’ll behave, let’s all be reasonable here.” Barrel only lowering enough that it’s aim left the eye line of Owens head. Low enough that he had the gall to leap towards you as if having any chance. Before you could even register how startled you jumped, Joel had grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him face first into the bar counter beside you. 

Owen’s head up enough to growl in anger, “Fuck you-” only to be slammed down into the wood with a crack of a bone splintering in the air. 

Yanking his arms behind his back, Joel tightened the mans own ropes around his wrists, leaving him just enough room before his circulation, or lacktherof, would turn his hands blue. The mans head yanked back with blood dripping from his nose and smeared down his face and painted the dark surface. Your fingers twitching on the shotgun aimed uselessly to the ground as your shaking breathe vibrated into your very chest as Joel hissed into his ear. “You try anything like that again, I’ll break a lot more then your nose.” 

Owen groaned but said no more. Shoving him towards Tommy, Joel only looked a his bloody face for a second longer before taking four strides over and all but shoving the chair out the mans reach. Stumbling onto his knees, grumbling unintelligible swearing as Joel burned a deep anger into his face and slinking it up to Tommy in unspoken words. 

Tommy himself seemed more hesitant. Taken back by something he had no way of seeing coming. You didn’t know how much of the other week Joel had even told him about. He at the least didn’t particularly care enough for the strangers well being to let him sit anywhere but the cold floor. He was more on the edge of confused, Joel saw you trying and failing to mask the shaking feeling of silent fear and that look washing over your eyes only had his blood run hot. 

Tilting his face to the side, Joel caught your gaze the hard set steel of his expression still peeking a deep concern for you behind it. His brown eyes gestured downwards to the shotgun in your grip, covering one of your hands with his own, the way it overtook your small ones with such warmth had you wanted to flip your palm to hold onto it, but you just let him slide the gun into his own possession. Holding it upright around the short cut barrel. 

Ever the vocal one, Ellie spoke up first. “Who are you?” She was stood still, arms crossed over her chest with a stare that could sear a hole in the floor. Her body now against the table, blocking any view of the towns layout from the strangers prying eyes. Tommy stood to his side, back to the wall and eyes to the door while Joel stepped away from your side. 

Watching him crouch down in front of the man, you yearned for the grace of someone more worthy. A gun to a mans surprised back peering right through whatever facade he would spit out were you not there. You had felt brave until he turned to face you. Owen’s face painted with fearful shock but yours only seethed with undiscovered ire. Whatever in your body that didn’t shake, a tingling flooded where ever nerves were attached. 

Owen’s stare towards Ellie was suspicious. Dots connecting in his head, he raised an eyebrow as he returned her stare. “How about you go first, then I have my turn?” 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice rumbled out tight and controlled, just like his unwavering posture. “You look at me, not her. Got it?” Owen didn’t answer quick enough, meaning not instantly, which only got him grabbed by the jaw, Joel’s fingers squishing parts of his cheeks in like a blooded up fish. “I said got it?” 

Owens brows furrowed in a grumble but he nodded. “Good. Now answer the question.” His kept his promise, he didn’t look back at Ellie. Just you. Empty eyes with a smile that had been smeared onto his skin like a goo. 

“Or you could just tell them, you already know my name afterall.” 

Your nails dug into the skin of your palms, scratching and clawing to keep them from shaking. In a world where you knew how to stand your ground, maybe the words would come up out of your mouth. Only they didn’t and you weren’t standing your ground, you weren’t sure your heart would calm enough to give that chance. 

Joel yanked his head back over to face him, face even sterner then before. “I asked you.” 

No one was impressed with the eye roll. A childish act for a tied up man, “Owen. Like she said.” When Joel didn’t let go of him, only gripped tighter did he remember to act like a grown up. “We used to know each other, had a couple run ins didn’t we?” 

You couldn’t see Joels eyes flit back as if he could see you behind him, but that yearning never left his heart. You were supposed to be at his side, not trapped in place by whatever memory this man dragged into town with him. “This is not-”

“He’s a firefly, or was.” Part of you was happy Owen hadn’t seen you in over a year, missing the slight waver in your voice as you forced it to come out in one go. All three of them had completely different reactions. 

Ellie was confused. A group in her life held a complicated relationship with her, one that she suspected wasn’t wholey truthful with her, but never had the chance to put her finger on it. Tommy was braced for either side of things. His eyes never straying from the sight in front of him but one foot of his stood out towards Ellie, as if to intervene. 

You didn’t need to see Joel’s face to know what he was feeling. Crouched down, his shoulders and back were set and so tense you could see it through his jacket. His hand dropped to his thigh with a thud curled into a fist. Those brown eyes washing over to a black as his nostrils flared as he kept a wild within him. 

No doubt lost in what you have found yourself in many times, flashes of light passing your eyes as images that keep you up at night taunt you. You found yourself pacing towards him, hand reaching out to him, but hovering in place at the prospect of sneaking up on him. But just like you felt with him, Joel didn’t need to hear or see to know you were near him. 

He just felt you already, taking a deep breathe as his back stretched back, giving your hand the chance to simply push forward and grasp onto the back of his collar like he knew you would. “What’s a firefly doing in our town, sneaking up on my own.” Joel was seconds away from bearing his teeth, if he remained just a strange intruder that was one thing. But none of you had any delusions about what having someone like this here could mean. 

“Just looking for a friend is all. Big state you know? Gotta check all the corners.” Joels fist curled in more as you curled your fingers into his collar. The two men eyed one another before Joel made to stand back upright. Letting go to give him space, it was only snatched back by Joel’s empty hand. Keeping it tucked to his chest, to turned so both your sides leaned against the bar. His warm breathe heating the skin of you face still doused from the cold outside. 

Eyebrows raised, you could read the question unsaid. Nodding yes, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Don.” Your eyes on his chest, Joel turned his body partway to gesture Ellie to take the shotgun from him. Sometime later, Joel would feel pride of how confidently she took it into her hold and held it to Owen. Perfect form like he taught her. But now that wasn’t anywhere near his mind. 

His now free grasp held onto your hip and pulled you at an angle, hiding your gazes from the man flickering his eyes around the room. Fingers stretching from under his, you wrapped them into the top of his shirt peeking through. Unable to decide if you could handle being the subject of this kind of intensity from Joel. “Don mentioned travelling with them for a while, I didn’t know he stayed with them after..” 

Joel cupped the side of your cheek, turning you up to his face. He meant to say something, meant to comfort or suggest but your own genuine unease pressed against the heart under his chest. A vulnerability that he spent weeks trying to coax from you from the quiet safety of your room together, but now on display for someone that Joel felt the growing urge to slam face first into a wall, leaving a mark he wouldn’t come back from. 

For only a moment you let yourself feel it. Shutting you eyes, Joels hand warm and soothing in your heart as you let the uncertainty flow over. Letting it drip from you head to your toes, melting off as it reaches the floor. Finally you flickered your eyes up to Joels. “I’ll talk to her.” Joels head whipped around, eyes blazing at the mans suggestion. “I’m not gonna kneel here and spill my guts to all you bozos-” 

The other two pairs of feet in the room both shifted a foot forward. A “Watch yourself” sounding from Tommy at the same time as Ellie’s far less decorum of “Shut the fuck up.” 

Shuffling in place, you could tell Joel was grappling with the idea. A deep protective instinct that threatened to overtake him should anything happen to you. “I’m not leaving you alone in a room with one of them.” 

Your cheek pinched between your teeth just a tad to sharp, your mind salvaging for any hint you have a plan in mind. But you don’t, and Joel knows you don’t. Because he doesn’t have one either. Your eyes drifted to Owens tied up frame, gesturing your chin over in debate, Joel doubled down.

“They’re better talkers then they are fighters out here. I’m not worried what he’s going to do, I’ll chain him to the wall if I have to. It’s what comes out of his mouth I don’t trust.” Something within you sensed something coming. Like the polarizing fear sweeping through you when Don had walked into town was a child’s bad dream compared to what your anxiety begun to brace for. But you agreed. 

That part of you which could no longer pretend as if you felt anything but racing nerves in your veins wouldn’t admit it, but you were eternally relieved to have Joel. You faced people like Owen, the fireflies always them versus you. Always running, stealing and sabotaging behind their backs it would weigh less on your chest to have someone in your corner, helping you up onto equal landing. 

Jaw clenching, Joel’s eyes pleaded a different story. One of a man dreaming of finding a small life with you and Ellie, and having to shove down the urge to burn everything to the ground just to keep you three in that harmony. But the fireflies played a different game. One that burned into Joel’s core, and one that froze yours over. 

Sending a shiver down the length of your spine as his thumb gently rubbed over your bottom lip, he was holding himself back from kissing you. Brown eyes flickering to your lips as his fingertips flexed where they sat on your body as if resisting pulling you into him. 

Sarah echoed in his head. Holding you in his arms on the porch as you told him unequivocally that she would be proud of who he is, but he didn’t feel proud now. Joel felt like control was slipping away from him and the last time that happened it ended in a bloodbath. 

You didn’t like this look on Joel. His handsome features warped by a painful conflict behind, firm and set as if nothing he was preparing to let nothing to get past the stone walls. You wanted him relaxed, soft. The kind of look he gave you that very morning. A smile that you’re not sure you’d ever seen yet. A soft one, a sleepy glaze in his eye and that very thumb rubbing over your bottom lip only then he moved it to help pull you out of sleep with his own lips. 

Anxiety shocking your limbs, jolting them like electricity while Joel was reliving the nightmares the people just like Owen brought on him. That quiet bubble of lips and skin against each other under the sheets Joel wanted you to call your own? That morning seems to not exist anymore. 

One of your hands drifted around, trailing on the inside of his jacket along the thin layer of his shirt, nails tracing towards his stomach as both of your eyes begged for even one kiss. Something to keep you both here and grounded. You weren’t going to give the satisfaction to Owen though. 

So you let yourself out of Joel’s hold. His hand sliding from your waist only until you were to far to stretch out to. Owen’s eyes were far less confident as you approached him. His laboured breathing the only thing in the air as you crouched in front of him. 

“You talk to both of us. Or no deal.” If you were someone else, you would have sounded firm. Sure of your conviction and unafraid of the coward in front of you. Not the weaker almost out of breathe hesitancy it came off as. 

Owen narrowed his eyes at you. “And if I say no?” 

Joel was what you tried to sound like. Deep and threatening, no room for doubt or barter as he came up behind you. “I dump you outside of town face first, hog tied in the snow.” 

Warm large hands pulled you up with one of them now refusing to leave your side. Owen conceded just as Tommy called Joel. Gesturing over to the sight of people beginning to mill about like nothing ever occurred inside the building. The man wasting no time as he hauled Owen up uncaring of the stumble he felt from the aggressive jostle. 

Owen stood crookedly against the bar, as Tommy circled his finger for him to turn around. “Ellie.” Joel beckoned her, a hand out for her to hand the shotgun over. Glancing between it and you, her face fell flat as she rolled her eyes giving it to a tiny smirking Joel at her petulance. 

No sense of personal space as he dove right into the small bag at your side for the ammo he assumed was in there. Loading it for you, he draped the strap over your shoulder. “Me and Tommy’ll handle getting him out of here. You two head back to the house, it’ll take us a while to move him.” 

Owen’s wrists rubbing together at the redness already scratching into them, Tommy added “I got a feeling he’s not against making a scene if we walk him through the middle of the street.” 

Neither you or Ellie were keen on leaving the two of them to handle it on their own, but you gently pushed her forward to grab her jacket. Joel turning you to face him as he cupped your cheek once more. There was something at the tip of his tongue, but it wouldn’t let itself out. A disruption you both felt in your bones just when he was finally putting a life together. 

Gently grasping his wrist, you turned his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm and watching him stiffen and breathe force itself from his lungs harder. A rage inside him that you knew he didn’t want to relive, or even expose you too. You couldn’t form the words, you knew what you felt but your tongue wouldn’t take them in. You just wanted him to know that it was alright.

The disgusting turmoil you brought upon his family hadn’t made him turn you away. His own would never do the same to you. There wasn’t anything Joel could do that would destroy what you were trying to pretend wasn’t a stem of blossoms flourishing into unconstrained winding petals.

But now? Watching Joel share muted words with an agitated Ellie, both struggling to let the other walk away? Wondering if it was mere coincidence that it was Owen who was here, or if you dragged them to your doorstep. 

Your mind far off, preoccupied in the possibilities going unconfessed. If this was your fault, if you brought this on them, then Joel should hate you. You deserved it. No reason could form in your head as to why he should support you, he’d done enough. 

You didn’t know what to bring to this relationship, and now all you have started bringing is burden upon burdens. Nothing to go on, all you could assume was that love wasn’t supposed to be sharing the brunt of the others problems. 

You were selfish for letting him bring you home that day, and he was stupid for going after you in the first place. The gruesome mark on your side should have stayed there. Ripped open and bleed out until you wouldn’t get back up from that blood soaked room anymore. 

Fed up, Ellie grabbed your arm with a shout of your name. Turning you towards her, eyes narrowed in exasperation. “Where are we going? Joel said-” 

Mouth opening then closing, your peeked at the people around you some glancing at the Ellie’s sudden outburst. It didn’t even dawn on you until now how far into town the pair of you had gotten. You couldn’t do this here, not in front of all these people. You couldn’t breathe around a crowd closing in on you. Swallowing the swarming cloud threatening to engulf you. “I need to get something, okay?” You grabbed her hand on your arm, squeezing it for a moment. “It’s important.” 

She didn’t say much as you both walked into the now mostly empty house. You wasted no time, making a bee line to your bedroom as Ellie paced around. Taking in the lack of any feeling home. You had brought hardly anything over. A bag or two at most. Neither she or Joel had much when they arrived, but they finally had started to feel like a home, like a place in the world once long forgotten. You arrived with nothing, and you still had next to nothing. 

Ellie couldn’t help but wonder. Is that what life on the outside was like for you? To truly have nothing to find joy in? The clang of wood caught her attention, dragging her over to your old bedroom. Your body knelt on the ground tearing out part of the floor only to reach in and rag out a small box. “So what are we doing back here?” 

Hands pausing mid movement what would you even say? What Joel was keeping from here was nowhere near the kind of lie you were keeping from both of them. The lie you tried to throw away the day you set foot in this town. Fingers slowly wrapping around loose drawings scattered at the bottom, you shuffled them together, throat tight as you tired to find careful words. 

“Something he might be after.” Head lifting up you saw the question form on her tongue. “It’s complicated. I’m not- I don’t know how to explain it.” Right now at least. 

“You could try. I mean I’m complicated.” Your head dropped again but in a breathy laugh, Ellie always managing to let that bemused attitude slip through no matter what. 

Tilting your head to the side a smirk played on your lips. “Yeah, we seem to be a house full of that.” Slipping the drawings into part of the journal, you sucked in a breathe with your eyes blinking shut for as long as you exhaled. Chucking the box back into the hole you lazily threw the wood down. Nothing left in there to hide under hammer and nails. 

Ellie’s face was stuck in hesitation when you stood back up. Her eyes looking to the journal you pressed tight to your chest then back to your own face trying to appear neutral. “Is that what he wants?” 

Lungs constricted and coiled more in your chest. Best case scenario likely being this was all he travelled here for. “Stay in your room, when we get back.” Your head shaking just once as your face tightened and scrunched up. “I’m not asking Ellie. You’re not going anywhere near him.” 

Her arms waved in the air, voice raising just like outside. “I’m not just gonna hide in my room like a-” 

“You don’t think Joel’s going to tell you the exact same thing?” Inside hoping you weren’t coming across as harsh. But you didn’t know what Owen was going to say, or what was going to happen to get him to say it. Ellie deserved a normal life, and none of this was apart of that. 

The house was silent when you both got back. Not a creak or muffle as Ellie charged in first. An annoyed attitude to match such a flat expression unwilling to even keep the door mostly open. Your grip on the journal adjusting and reajusuting multiple times as if letting for a fleeting moment would sweep it out of your possession. 

Opening the door the rest of the way, you were silent as you watched Ellie stand in the middle of the room. Her body turned towards the only closed door, eyes wider and sunken in with a deeper hesitation then before. You could see Joel leaning back against the counter, arms crossed with eyes harsh and narrow at the same direction. 

“He’s in there?” Half her torso twisting to watch Joel nod once. “Is he-” 

“Still tied up. He’s not going anywhere.” An edge cut through his voice, restraining an emotional you knew was a battle to bury back down. “As long as he’s here you’re going to-” 

Head dropping as did her eyes. “Stay in my room. I know.” She didn’t bother taking her jacket off out here, just step by step towards the hallway there wasn’t even a blink. Suddenly the prospect of staying as far away from him as possible didn’t sound like a punishment. Stopping in front of the door, she looked back to Joel with her teeth gritting in an anxiousness. “What are we going to do with him?” 

There was no response. Joel’s shoulders squared as he exhaled through his nose harshly. Brown eyes just glued between her and the door as his head brewed with thoughts you couldn’t possibly imagine. 

Neither of them said anymore. Ellie turned to open her door before taking one last peek at the shut one not far from her own. Keeping her in the dark wouldn’t last, but right now wasn’t time. Not for Joel, not for you. 

The quiet air didn’t dissipate with her departure. An uncertainty floating between you and Joel, his eyes now following the way yours stared at the door. Unlike Ellie though, your own blazed with a knowing fear. Murmuring your name, Joel gestured for you to come over to him. 

You didn’t reach out for him the way his hand did for your waist. Pulling you closer, Joel stood up straight with a deep breathe. Eyes flickering to the door and back, brows narrowed still. “The hell does he want with you that he tracked you all the way here for?” 

It felt like a blame, even if it wasn’t one. What did you to do drag something else into his life? Your grip on the journal in your hand didn’t go amiss. Nor did your casual shrug fool him. “If he’s still a firefly he either only wants me..” 

“Or that?” Joel raised an eyebrow towards your hands as his own pulled your retreating body back into him. “Hey. I’m not prying, but if you’re in danger I need to know about it. Now.” The sternness in Joel’s voice carved something deep inside you as did the fierceness in his bright eyes.

Your jaw clenched as the defeat just piled up. His eyes followed as your hands dropped to your sides before you tossed the journal aggressively onto the counter behind him, but your arms returned to cross your chest protectively. “They know about me. Like-” 

His large hand squeezing just above where the mark sat on your side. His eyes squinted in confusion at what was in your hands. “What does a book have to do with it?” Heart lurching in your chest, you pried yourself from his hand but found yourself unable to move entirely from his warmth. One palm pressing into your forehead as the other sat on your hip. 

“It belongs to them.” Your chin cutting over to it. Jackson was supposed to heal over those memories, but that wasn’t the plan of whoever watched your life over. “I stole it from them, Owen took it back from me, I stole it from him so on.” Head raising into the air to push the sting in your eyes down even when your shaky breathe gave it away just as much. “Either they only got their hands on the book, or lucky enough to try and drag me to Boston because Marlene just can’t give anything up.” 

“Marlene?” Joel leaned into you, pulling your face to look at him by your chin. Your own lost ones stark against his heating fire as he said your name. “She was the one looking for you?” 

You stammered, watching Joel run a hand over his face. Dots connecting in your mind, your mouth fell open slightly as a tangle of disjointed words tumbled out. “Yeah she wanted me.... and you were in Boston. With Ellie.” A story you knew the details to but didn’t stop to wonder how deeply intertwined it’s words were.

This time it was Joel who fidgeted his body back and forth, jaw so clenched it might snap as both his hands found his hips. “Ellie grew up in there, and that’s where I lived when Marlene got me to take her, or forced my hand was more like it. She was adamant someone needed to get her to one of their stations out west when she couldn’t.”

Joel’s head snapped to you as you started putting it together. “I’m assuming she didn’t specify west meant a hospital in Salt Lake?” 

Running his hand down his face again, Joel finally leaned back against the counter. “I didn’t know the extend of where I was taking her until Ellie mentioned a cure. By the time I got her there, it was almost to late when I found out what the fuck they were about to do.” 

Blood racing in your veins you hated where this was going more and more. “Because she knew you’d never do otherwise. She seem desperate?” 

All you needed was his nod of yes. You felt incredibly stupid. The details Joel had already shared, what Don told you, what had happened what was in the journal itself. That’s why they left you alone after all that time. She found Ellie, and dumped her off with people who couldn’t possibly know what Marlene was handing her off for. 

You weren’t sure how long you had been silent, but Joel cupped the side of your neck urging you to come back to him. You were quicker on the draw then he was. “We need to find out what he’s doing here. Now.” 

Soothing you, his breathe grazed your face as he leaned his forehead onto yours. “I can do this alone, you don’t need to see this.” 

Sliding your fingers up to hold his wrist gently, your eyes as soft as your touch felt opposite of how much Joel’s nerves sat in his fingertips. “You said we’re in this together. So we do this, together.” He took one last moment to hold you against him still with a hand at the back of your head. 

Pulling back he grabbed something you couldn’t quite see from behind him, sliding it into pocket inside his jacket before you could make it out. His hand stayed in the middle of your lower back as you both approached the door. The journal left alone on the counter the reasons to keep it in the shadows leaving you moment by moment. 

It should have satisfied you to see fresh blood now on his face. Two distinct cuts clotting over on his cheek, drifting down to see his frame tied to a chair looped with more then one restraint. Hands bound to the arms of the seat, a redness that too was blood on his fists. You wanted to feel smug at how rough he looked, but it did nothing to soothe the racing of your heart. 

Owen barley looked your way when he saw Joel follow in. The harsh shut of the door behind him making the bound man jump. A rag drenched in droplets of blood and sweat tied around his mouth explained the no noise as you walked in. A sprinkle of suspicion that his newfound red paint was a result of putting far more of a struggle up then he could handle the consequences too. 

The air around the three was charged with such a heavy weight you felt as if it could crush you flat. Your vision as it turning white flashed, the slamming pain skyrocketing from your body to your head as it rattled against the cliff side. The blood on your face felt as if it had never been washed off as you looked at the still red stained ones on Owen. 

Yours weren’t bound to the arms of the chair. No yours were wrapped behind you, phantom sensations of the metal digging into your skin as it gave way to a snapping bone. Memories you’ve never spoken of,  ones you wanted to bury deep. 

Joel had spoken, and you didn’t even catch it. Muffled voices quiet and rumbling as your brain forced itself into the present. You had barley moved from just feet inside the room. Joel stood tall over him with the rag now dragged down from his mouth spitting as the words came out. “What? I can’t just pop by to visit a friend? See an old pal? Isn’t that right? Good ole Don?” 

Snatching his jaw, Owens cheeks smushed together as Joel forced it to lurch forward to his knelt over figure. “Hey, you’re not talking to her. Just me.” His voice was even, but unseen to your place behind him, Joel’s features stood sharp, a dark in his eyes that worked it’s way into his bones from weeks of torment on the people he loves. “Start with what Don was here for.” 

Joel’s hand dropped as he stayed at his eye level Keeping the mans only view of him. The condescension in Owen’s voice circulating Joel’s bloodstream in an angering trail. “Small town living.” 

He gave him no response. A stone walled stare leaving the pure nothingness in the air force someone to fill it, only neither you or Joel would do so. 

“He’s an idiot, who knows what he was doing here. I just haven’t heard from him is all, a guy can’t worry for his friend apparently.” You knew Owen wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. Part of you wondered if he just didn’t realize why Don was nowhere to be found, or if he was dumb at playing dumb. 

Joel’s hand flexed as he turned his head. Barley enough to even look beside him until moving back trying to not shift focus to you. Keeping Owens focus or Joels focus away he wasn’t quite sure of. “This can end right now. But if you keep bullshitting me, I promise you’ll wish it did.” 

Owen opened his mouth and closed it more than once. He was a footman. Strong, not pragmatic. A fear not unlike one you’ve felt countless times in your own eyes doubting himself as Joel stared at him. Only letting a few more seconds pass before Joel’s face twisted in anger. Bracing his palms on his thighs Joel pushed back upright. 

Stepping uncomfortably close into his space, Joel tugged the gag back over his mouth, but was nowhere near done. You couldn’t tell what Joel had pulled from his jacket until rusting pliers braced themselves onto the nail of Owens index finger. 

Tilting his head with an eyebrow raised, Joel was giving him a warning that Owen didn’t take. Just shaking his head with a muffled string of what sounded like petulant swearing. Joel held it to him, breathing heavy as whatever conflict in his head won out, forcing himself to act on that conclusion before a softer part of his subconscious wanted to talk him out of. 

A few years into the outbreak you had watched a number of members from your group screaming not dissimilar to the muffled ones before you. You had been pressed inside the back of a desk. Your only sight the dilapitating square of wall in front of you, but the wood surrounding you felt as it it made it echo. Warped, distorted screams as it was followed by a cracking. One by one the cracks followed screams that rasped into sobs. 

It was a sound and sight that for a while, was the scariest thing you’d ever seen. A body unconscious from either shock or blood loss as scattered puddles of blood and teeth lay strung about. You didn’t dare look how many were left. There were enough teeth on the ground to know not enough to matter. 

You had thought to yourself, never again did you want to be anywhere near something like this. But that was before you were tormented with screams, screeches and searing rips into your skin and clicks that stabbed into your brain until you felt numb to the fear. 

Owen didn’t sound quite like any of it. More like a strained groan trying to push down the agony. Your nails digging into your palm with each silence between Joel’s growling voice. Blood asking to drip down from the nails you still had, unlike the man who took his only chance to speak with his gag off, to try and spit at Joel. Much more swearing came from that rip then whatever your nails scratched into your palm. 

The red made it look worse then it did. Comparing to what the world outside proved it was capable of, Owen would live. Live without having to change who he was entirely. Your side told you not to feel bad and it was a hard voice to ignore. Your forearm throbbing in rhythm. Neither of those were a fate anyone should feel, but you had. And so did she. Those were far worse.

Owen wasn’t just connected to Don, it didn’t just trace back to you, and Joel had enough of keeping that thought out of it. “Look at me. Hey-” He yelled more this time, nostrils flared as he grabbed Owen by the throat to force him to look. 

Owen looked dazed, swallowing hard as his eyes fluttered in and out of pain. “You this embarrassed someone got the jump on you in front of your girl?” 

A roaring current zapped through Joels nerves, his hand tightening his hold on the mans throat. “Fine, you’re in my position. Someone breaking into your home? Rope in his hands, sneaking up on you and your daughter behind your backs?” His voice snarling at the edge of breaking into something Joel could lose control over. 

But you didn’t give either of them a chance. Your footsteps banged into the floor, heart pounding but unwilling to break eyes with Owens attention, now on you as he heaved in pain. Joel didn’t move, forcing his snarling heaves back down.

Hand curling into a fist around the pliers. It didn’t matter what Owen’s plan was. Joel covered all of Ellie’s sides, and so you would cover his back. You didn’t bend down to their place near the ground. You wanted Owen to strain up in the pain to look at you. “You read the journal, right?” 

Joel’s heart tempered down, but didn’t have the willingness to look anywhere but the man bleeding in front of him. Nothing had happened, but the threat was enough. Men like this, people like them? Joel would make sure they had no right to even look at Ellie. They get to keep their lives, their families and there was no comprehension in Joel���s mind to ever appease that they tried to tear apart his for their own gain. Tear his family back to shreds, keep their own when they had no heart or soul as they tried to do it to his. 

Unlike him, you didn’t bother with the intimidation, it was never a word given to you anyways. Letting it your hand brush the wrist attached to where Joel’s was, brushing your thumb over the vein you could reach, Joel finally let the mans airway free. Desperate to keep himself here, it only switched places. You felt his hand, large and close to bruising as he held part of your calf. 

Owen heaved and you let him. He wasn’t a solider, he had no obligation to withstand this, and both you and Joel knew that. You let Joel push Owen to the edge as long as you held him back from the cliff when Joel himself got to close to falling alongside. Broken at the bottom, splayed on jagged rocks you spoke softly to him. 

“Owen. I asked you a question.” He glanced from Joel to you, but finally kept it mostly on you when Joel didn’t move a muscle. “How much of the journal did you read?”

And there it was, his bloodshot eyes jumping to your forearm. In another world, maybe you’d smile, smirk, enjoy the torment. But neither you or Joel did. This was his family, and he was protecting it regardless of the cost. 

Nodding, you didn’t really even register doing, but your eyes sat wide. “It didn’t say anything about this,  I imagine.” One hand slip the side of your shirt up. 

Forearms heal better then the sides of a torso, and yours still looked like a horror. The colour, the scarring still healing with skin bitten and torn into and no disillusion as to what it was from. “Do you think you’re bite will look like this? Or rot to something else entirely.”

Would you do it? No. Humans deserved the fate of other humans. No one deserved what you and Ellie had barley survived. It was more then teeth, it was a blood curling terror like a radiation poured into your body along with it. But Owen didn’t know that, all he knew is someone in the fireflies inflated your reputation to dangerous. And that certainly wasn’t the image of hope Marlene tried to frame it in, no only one other person would have given Owen that idea. 

You wanted to crouch to look him properly in the eye, but you dared not interrupt the iron grip Joel had on your calf. So your fingers curled into the side of his jacket collar, one the front of his shirts were familiar with on quiet, peaceful nights. “Don could have told you if his own bite didn’t tear into his neck. Bring you to him if you don’t believe me.” 

“No, n-no,” There was the crack Joel had broken in. 

“Then tell us the truth. If you’re here for the journal, we can talk about that. But of you’re here for me then that’s a new problem.” 

You could feel Joel’s hand slid up your calf, less desperate and tight but now more all encompassing. A need to feel you there without risking his attention elsewhere. But that didn’t matter. The attention wasn’t about you at all. Owen looked defeated at you before sliding his eyes to the thing you feared putting at risk the most.   

“We weren’t looking for you. We were sent to look for him.” Your fingers curled into his jacket more as your heart beat so fast you felt it in your throat. A penetrating cold shivering from your heart and outward. “Fuck, no one even knew where you were until now I guess. A few of us have been scouting different nowhere towns looking for a Joel Miller. Just a wild fucking coincidence I guess.” 

Joel’s voice was controlled, forcing words out slowly and clearly. Low almost like a whisper. His eyes the opposite as they fell dark and falling down a hole of realization. “Whose us?” 

Owen gnawed at his lip before relenting. “Anderson,” Joel tilted his head needing him to elaborate, but you knew. You knew it was a divine force that kept you from falling back. “You know the doctor, the fucking hospital? We’re not with the fucking fireflies anymore, just got a few of us together when she finally learned your name. You killed her dad, so? Fair’s fair.” 

Joel stood up, the room silent as your head spun it’s contents. Turning to you, his face was lost in an overwhelming blast of emotions. Yours was flushed, a shiver running your entire body as you looked at him.  This wasn’t even about you, and that scared you even more. You couldn’t just walk away to get rid of this for them.

Joel grabbed your wrist on his jacket, holding to keep you close. He seemed to grapple with something before turning to shove the gag back in Owens protesting mouth and dragging you out of the room. 

He pulled you closer to the main room cupping the sides of your face urgently, pulling you into his space as you tried to rationalize it. “She can’t, you..I won’t let her.” 

Joel muttering your name almost commandingly as he almost smoothed over your skin to quell the panic. “Hey, hey- it’s okay eyes on me.” Your nails almost dug into his chest as you shook in his hold with a skin prickling combination of distraught and a back blowing whoosh of determinating protectiveness. “Nothing is going to happen. Nothing’s going to happen to me, not me, not any of us.” 

Your soul felt like screaming on the inside. “I’m not going to lose you, not for this. I won’t leave anyone to-” 

Joel pulled your lips into his, a harsh and rough collision that took not just your breathe out of your lungs but his. His own brushing against yours aggressively, pulling back only enough to have you hear him.

“Together. Anything we do, we’re doing it together. You don’t want to leave me? Good ‘cus I’m certainly not leaving you or her. I didn’t do what I did, only to get ripped away from her as soon as we finally started becoming something.” 

Joel kissed you another time, telling you to stay out here. Just for a minute before turning on the spot and slamming the door back behind him. A sharp anger on his face that you decided wasn’t worth holding him back from. 

Your back pressed against the wall, palms shoving pressure onto your forehead as you realized just who was looking for Joel. If it was her, then she’d come looking for Owen. If Joel didn’t hesitate to go find you the day you took off, then she would come looking for Owen the second it was too late for him to reasonably not come back. 

At some point you had slid onto the floor right next to Ellie’s door. This was it. She needed to know about that day. But it wasn’t what Joel did that was the lie going to hurt, it was the truth you had to come to terms with too. The truth all Joel did, was save her from and the pain he thought he was keeping from her was nothing. 

You could see the journal still sat on the counter at the other end of the room. He’d tell her, then you’d tell them. Somewhere in the back of your head you registered a thud, but it was too faint to drag you back into the light. 

The quiet creak of Ellie’s door however, was just that. She had heard enough to know what was happening in that room, but none of you were disturbed by it. Ellie had been through more then what Joel had done in those last ten minutes with Joel himself. Her eyes were tensely trained on the door when she almost jumped at the sight of you. 

“Fuck, make a sound or something next time.” Laugh, smile give her something but you couldn’t. Everything was about to be laid out on the table, and your nerves were crippled with the nightmare of losing Joel, losing her, for it all. “What happened?” 

Both of your heads shot up as Joel finally came back out. A redness on his hands that you knew were smears of the mans already dripping blood inside, it didn’t look bruised so at least it wasn’t that. You could only see inside the room enough to see the chair awkwardly moved over with Owen muttering to himself along with it as the door shut. 

All three of you looked at one another before Joel looked at Ellie with a seeping guilt in his eyes, “We need to talk.” Ellie’s eyebrows raised in worry but nodded. 

“Not just you. I mean, she needs to know.” Ellie’s face darting between you both now confused, “But you both need to know something else. You talk to her first though.” 

Ellie looked lost and anxious, “What the fuck is going on?” 

Joel’s hand smoothed over the side of Ellie’s head, his heart melting at how instinctively now she leaned into his embrace without realizing. Any of you losing this would be catastrophic. “Give us a minute,” his head gesturing to you. “Then we’ll talk.” Looking between you both, she finally conceded. Joel unable to take his eyes off of her until the door shut completely once more. 

Holding his hand out, he pulled you up onto your feet and gestured to the main room before either of you said a word. Wavering looks swimming in both of your eyes and hearts beating just as loudly as the other. “She-” Joel cut himself off with a sigh, handing his head with his hands on his hips. “I wanted to find the right words first. Not spring it on her like it doesn’t matter how I say it.” A strain in his voice you wanted to honey over.

Though you weren’t sure he was really telling you, not past your nerves. Running a hand down the length of his face as his eyes stayed shut. You were in the same boat, how were you supposed to tell the only family you had how much of a lie they were both sold on. How would they feel knowing you were a sliver of that story? 

Maybe you shouldn’t have unpacked that bag, your old empty house feeling more and more like the isolation you belonged in, but Joel didn’t deserve this feeling. He’d been through enough, he’s done enough. Softly muttering his name, he dropped his hand back to his hip but still was trapped behind his eyes.

This time whispering his name, hands very gently reaching out to cup the side of his face, thumb tracing against the coarse facial hair. His larger hand circled your wrist. “Give me your worst case scenario.” His eyes darting up in narrowing, an incredulous look but you kept your hand softly on him. “What would be the worst reaction she could have?” 

It was clear he’d thought too much of just that, because his answer was instantaneous. “She hates me. I lied to her about all of it, and she resents me for what I did, and for lying to her.” A part of your heart cried at hints of agony his eyes looked at you. “I don’t know if I could handle that. Not now.” 

Joel deserved to hear one thing, but right now you think he needed something else more. It was surprisingly easy to pull such a tall giant man to lean down into you. His hands both squeezing you waist as his forehead rested on your shoulder. Winding one arm past his neck you kept him there as you raked your hands through his hair as the other ran your palm shallowly against his torso down closer to his stomach. His deep breaths the only thing in your ear as you let him feel the worry for just a moment. 

Let him process what’s being forced onto him so suddenly. You didn’t let go of him as you softly spoke into his ear minutes later as his breathing steadied against your skin. “Do you know why that will never happen?” Hands gripped you tighter, you were starting to speak his silence. “That kid loves you. You’re her whole goddamn world even if you can’t see it. She was sold on a lie that got sold onto you. You were the only person who did the right thing, probably one of the only people who ever put her well being before someone else.” 

Joel found enough of a calm to lift his head, steady movements in his chest as he rested his head against yours. Face still twisted and tearing apart with nerves. “I still lied to her.” 

When you first met him, you’d never have said anything close to what came out of your mouth in the firm meaning you spoke. “You lied to yourself, Joel.” His eyes widening, a hurt treading on them that needed to be satiated fast. “When you think about that day, do you see what you did or why you did it- no don’t try to tell me otherwise. Because that’s exactly what I see.” 

Your hands sliding down to his own waist, “There’s not a single time I’ve heard Ellie talk about everything that happened that doesn’t end in her finding a way to tie it back to something you did for her. Marlene wanted to dump her life off on lies, and you kept her from it because you love her. What lie do you think’s going to hurt more? The one you couldn’t even admit to yourself, or the one people like them just for a chance to get her into a slaughterhouse.”  

Pulling your arms away from him, you gave Joel the chance to stand on two feet. The thoughts clearly mixing and repelling against one another as he followed your lead. Giving his body a chance to breathe on his own, his eyes on nothing while the mind behind brewed and boiled. Slowly you stepped away, the time it took getting to where the journal had been tossed feeling like a lifetime. 

Your hand paused as you slid it towards you. Eyes flying over the well used pages stuffed with fresher notes in your own once manic scratchings. Heart felt beating in your chest, you had to do it, but it wasn’t your place to say it. You had to let them be together. They could call you whatever they wanted, but you were still just on your own. Joel was her father now, and that’s the love she’s going to desperately need the most. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you quickly moved things. Putting your own notes in one pile and storing it right at the front. It had to be done before regret slipped in. Snatching it off the table you didn’t hide it on your person this time. It hung in the hand at your side, as you looked at his face once more. 

No lies between you. Even if it sacrificed the adoration he watched you with. Both of you moved slowly as you handed it over to him, grateful he didn’t open it right away. “There’s nothing I could say that isn’t already in there.” 

Joel’s head tilted as he looked at you with doubt. “Neither of us is trying to exclude you.” 

Nerves burning on fire, you shrugged. “It’s still your life before me. Don’t open it until after. She needs you first, not this.” Watching his eyes bounce between the journal and you, the defeat crawling over sitting heavy in Joel’s stomach. “I think I pretty much summed it up, my notes in the front.” You pointed to the obvious white sheets contrasted against the stained darker ones. “But it’s still all in there.” 

Neither you nor Joel said the words. The grief of losing it before becoming real a fear you needed to steel yourself with once more against as Joel stood before you. Himself holding it back from spilling out of his mouth, especially with that dissonant look in your eyes. 

Selfishly, you have yourself what could be a final indulgence of his warmth. Your hands pressing flat onto his chest wishing those warm brown colour of his eyes would stay with you forever. “You’re not a bad person, Joel. Ellie knows that, so stop thinking that she will.” 

His eyes skipped down to your lips, choosing to pull you in with his fingers under your chin. Small and chaste with the taste of restraint from losing yourself in the other. Pulling back only enough to give you air, “Didn’t realize this is what it would take to get this much out of you.” 

Your heart leaping into a breathy laugh as he too lightly laughed into another kiss. Everyone always had something to say the second you ran your mouth for more than a few minutes didn’t they? 

Control slipping, you had to gently push him back before he let go of it entirely. You didn’t watch as he walked away, didn’t watch as he went into her room. The click of the door was a trigger. The air in the room heavy and constricting, as the walls surrounded you. You couldn’t be in here, you couldn’t listen to whatever would happen it was suffocating you. You didn’t deserve to be anywhere near them, not now, not for this. 

Not sure if either of them heard the front door shut, you walked out into the now significantly darker sky. Lungs filling with air you could stand as if the house was drowning in water. You didn’t get too far, just far enough to throw your back against a brick wall, sliding down as you lifted your head into the late winter sky.

It was a strange thought that passed through you, wondering what she’s heard about you since. If she was still with the fireflies then she knows all to well the man power wasted at trying to get you back.

Like the faces that followed you with every stabbing pain, she no doubt remembers your face perfectly. One of the hands now resting on your knees twitching as it relived a pain. 

The blood dripping down your bottom lip from how hard you bit into it, holding back your voice as the bones in your hand snapped, slipping from the metal handcuffs forcing your arms behind the chair. The chain clanging together as you retched them in front of you, barley making it off the chair as your upper body leaned in on itself, shaking as you snapped the bone back barley staving off a cry.

The darker the sky grew the further down the dilapidated, dripping hall your memory travelled. You had caught her coming around the corner, nearly jumping as she turned to see you. It was easy to see the blood on you was your own, but it was even easier to see what sat on the forearm with the fractured hand. Red skin and stiff hanging at your torso, you had it unknowingly tilted where the ripples of an infection she couldn’t possibly guess was long past it’s prime. 

You didn’t know if all of them here knew, a pathetic excuse of a firefly mid stop with too much empty space for them to even think of how to use it. Hell, at the time, you didn’t know a single of them were fireflies. You just knew him, your father, and now her. Judging by her face, wide eyes stepping back as an urgency fell over her face, she didn’t know the person here was you. The familiarity between you didn’t mean anything close to it’s beginning.

It all took no more than a few seconds. One of her hands reached behind her for what you had seen from the side was a gun as she begun to shout out someone’s name that you didn’t give her a chance to spell out. You had done it before you even heard it, arm stretched as the sound of the shot hit your ears after it already casted blood into her stomach. Something inside you wanted to stay, by the time someone else reached her it could already be too late. 

But that would’ve been your fate if you didn’t leave. You fell into their laps by accident, but wasted no time in trying to find a use for you that didn’t involve keeping you around. It was the first time you stole the only resources they had, you. And the first time having you get away, ate at Marlene’s desperation to force you back from that day onward. You didn’t even know Marlene’s name until that day in the field, but you new who she was all too well now.

Front door slowly shutting was followed by the slight thud of boots against the wood of the porch. Head snapping up you saw Joel looking out with a squint, his shoulders looking less risen and tense then he had all day. You however, shot up so quickly your feet almost stumbled you back over if not for your hand braced against the brick beside you. 

It was too far to see his expression, but it wasn’t always the best way to determine what was going on inside Joel’s head. Let him come to you, you told yourself. Constantly going to him, invading his life, disturbing their privacy was all you provided. 

He had on a different shirt then before, this one looking much warmer then what was on you. Part of you wondered just how long you had been out here alone. If the sky had anything to say about it, it might have been far longer then you knew. 

Now though, being out in the snow? A lack of anything substantial for winter weather having Joel’s eyes look at you, not knowing if in simple concern or judgment. Standing a foot or two away from you, Joel answered the question he saw you open your mouth to ask. 

“You were right.” Your back sagged against the brick, this time though your legs finding the strength to hold you up. “Turns out having your whole life upended hurts a whole lot more then being lied to about getting her out of it.” His voice was shoved out in a gruff kind of pain, his eyes fared no better.  Bright but not in a shine you yearned for, a pain, an upset that sat heavy in his heart. Just because it didn’t devastate their relationship, doesn’t mean it wasn’t devastating in every other sense. 

You swallowed harshly as you nodded. Nothing even in your throat to say, scared to look to long at him, missing the needing stare he gave you that shined in the growing moonlight. Your voice just weak and cracked, “And you?” 

The sigh he let out was loud. Arms crossing his chest he paced to put rest his back against a close by tree. The increased distance between you growing larger, you didn’t know how intentional it was. “I said something when she first told me what Marlene wanted with her. They’ve talked about cures all the time and none of them worked. Everyone wanted me to believe in it, in her so badly.” 

Clenching his jaw you could see the frustration build and build. Making you feel like you understood without any idea of how to comfort it in a meaningful way. “But she’s a kid, not an answer.” 

You yearned to reach out to him, his eyes glazing somewhat as he looked from the night sky, to the ground and back to you as a darker tone resurfaced in his voice. “She didn’t deserve to be treated like some miracle. She needed someone, anyone, to give a shit enough to protect her. Even from them.” 

For once you stood still like a stature while Joel kept shifting his stance or his shoulders. “I don’t know if I even believed it when I went back for her. All I knew is it didn’t matter what they wanted, she didn’t deserve that and I couldn’t live with it.”

Your fingernails chipped away at the brick behind you, “Sometimes desperation makes you dumb. Doing bad things because they deluded themselves into thinking as long as they accomplish something then they can keep feeling as if they’re winning.” Sighing out raspily you hoped he couldn’t hear it. “Couldn’t get me anymore, so the second she found a new one? Getting her on that table was all they a cared about.”

“Even though they knew it wouldn’t work.” Joel pushed up from the tree, letting his hands fall to his belt loops trying to close the distance. “Didn’t matter what the truth was, everyone wanted her to be the one to set all of this right. All I could see was a girl who wanted to have a life. Didn’t matter to me what anyone else wanted, I’m not sure it ever did when it came to Ellie.” 

Silence fell between you, that feeling in your throat coming back up like it wasn’t able to stop. Your heart falling over at the pain filling his features. “I’m sorry.” 

Joel scrunched his face at you. “You’re sorry? For what?” 

Throwing your hands out, you for once found yourself starting any kind of argument. “What do you mean what? How about everything I do somehow keeps coming back to fuck you and Ellie’s lives up.” 

Joel’s own voice started to match in a frustration level. “Wait- you haven’t done anything.” 

Rolling your eyes to the side you struggled to understand what he was even trying to do. “Right, because you’re lives have been so much more peaceful since I showed up and for some reason you just let me hang around no matter what I’ve done.” 

Joel tried to come towards you but you just pushed off the wall and circled around to stay away. “I-”

At least it was growing dark enough that Joel couldn’t see the redness in your eyes. “He came looking for Don, Joel. Don never checked in because I killed him, he never even mentioned them. If he was here looking for you, he stopped giving a shit about you the second he saw me. Maybe if I just let him-” 

Joel’s anger wasn’t at you but it sat visibly steaming on his face as he tried stepping towards you, but you just stepped away again. “No. I’m not even going to fucking entertain that idea-” 

Your head pounded, every modicum of sound screaming as it flowed into your ears. “Well I am, so maybe you should for once, Joel.”

Running a hand over his mouth, you knew he was either going to yell or going to try and come closer, but at the moment you couldn’t tell which one you wanted less. “What do you want from me? Blame you for everything that ever goes wrong? Pretend I don’t want you in my life?” 

If he was growing angry, you deflated it by turning to face him. Not quite yelling, but certainly not quiet either. “No, you’re just supposed to not want me in general.”

His volume grew with yours, as did the sharp features on his face grew twisted and stiff. “Well I’m sorry, sweetheart. You don’t get to just stand there and tell me I’m not allowed to love you just because that’s what you expect out of me.” 

He didn’t realize what he had just said. And neither did you. The only ones who realized what Joel had just said, were the half awake birds on the treetops and the single pair of ears quietly listening from a far off window. 

You pressed your palm to your forehead, trying to will the headache away with the pressure. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Joel. I just-” 

Joel tried to come closer. His heart was turned up tonight, and between earlier, sitting on a way too low to the ground bed for his frame, running his hand soothingly over his what loose strands of hair splayed out from their ponytail as his little girl finally let that insufferably stubborn wall of hers fall down for once and cried into his lap. That everything that had finally brought them together was all based on a horrific lie that duped them both. Neither he nor her having any idea what to feel about it. 

It was too much for him, but nothing compared to the endless turmoil spinning behind Ellie’s eyes as they were laid out what this all truly was. Ellie had been through a lot, too much with him, but for once she let herself react the way she needed. She didn’t do anything, she shouldn’t be brave about it. 

Now he’s standing out in his front yard, watching you float around too many emotions for you to figure out what you even felt. Your voice wavering and how you kept stepping away if he came forward. To Joel, it was his own actions that brought this down on them, yet here you stood trying to force him to put every blame on you for just existing. 

“Can you just listen to me?” 

You wanted everything to stop, your lungs yelling at you and your vision feeling like it wanted to start spinning. “No, Joel-” 

His hands gestured uselessly in the air, “Why not?” hoping he didn’t sound angry, but sometimes he wasn’t quite aware enough to know how he was coming off to people. Especially if airing on the side of losing his temper. 

You told yourself not to cry, feeling a vile embarrassment if you cried in front of him right now. But your throat felt choked up, and barley managed to spit it out. “Because I don’t get it, Joel.” Everything in his face paused, taken back by what was about to spill out of your heart. 

“I don’t understand why you care. I’ve never understood it. I’ve done nothing but get in the way, and you keep just bringing me back when we both know your life would be a hell of a lot easier without me in it. I don’t understand why you keep me around or why you even like me. I just...I don’t get you.” 

Pressure build behind your eyes while the rest of you burned with humiliation. Being with Joel exposed parts of your soul that you never even thought to share with another, but the undeniable shake in your voice as you trailed off was twister of panic and tears that you tried to push down. Pretending it was anger. 

In anyone else, Joel would have taken it in a worse light. But the silence in him as he grappled with just how little you could see how he felt didn’t sit right inside him. He knew part of this between you both was somewhat new to you. What he didn’t know, is that in fact all of it was new to you. 

He was new in every way and now it all swirled on terrifying, your eyes staring at each other until you turned to go back in the house. In your frazzled mind, you hoped maybe Joel wouldn’t yell at you if you were inside. It felt different once you got there though. Countless houses you’ve walked into, abandoned, dilapidated, some in surprisingly good condition. Even your own small one in this very town. But something about being in Joel’s house felt different. Like a warmth spreading through your bones as you walked into the front door. 

Your palms sat flat against the back of the couch, trying to count how long your inhales were and focusing on the exhales. Slowly your heart tapered down, the walls around you stopped shrinking in as you hoped when your eyes opened once more the world would stop feeling like it was tumbling around you. 

Just seconds ago you felt like if Joel came anywhere close to you, that the weight of your emotions would implode on you. Yet as you heard Joel quietly following you into the house, you couldn’t help but follow where he was by the sounds he made as he walked in. 

It all just hit you too fast. Giving yourself no time to process so you chose the worst possible way to react. Too much of your lives were converging together and it kept brewing a storm that you once only had to deal with alone. Now there were actual people in your life who leaving would tear parts of you across the distances between them. The only life that had been in danger since you arrived was your own. Having the forces from yours come down to Joel wasn’t fair. He had no stake in this fight. 

He only did the one thing none of those people had the heart or the guts to do for another. And people like her had no right seeking out revenge for someone who wasn’t anywhere near close to what was toted around. Truly thinking about it, there was another person in this house who you know has his back too. 

Eyes opening you looked over to her closed door, this time at least knowing she asleep. Only time would heal what you finally had to expose her too. 

It was hypocritical of you, how the second two strong arms caged you in against the back of the couch, you leaned back into what you knew was Joel’s warm torso. He stepped in to press you closer to the couch so he could cover your hands with his, fingers linked as much as he could manage in this position. 

His chin rests on your shoulder as you both stand with the other against you, a quiet that is far more familiar and soothing then any kind of arguing. Joel must have been watching you, because as soon as you opened your eyes to speak, he leaned his mouth closer to your ear. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry again.” 

Letting you go, Joel pressed himself more into your back as his hands decide to rest more comfortably on your hips. His nose pressed to your hair you nod in agreement. “Guess I’ve scared you enough, only a matter of time until it was my turn to get it.” 

Your fingers dug into the couch more, but you still leaned into his touch head tilting back at his every move, even though he always found his way back. “I’m not going to bother telling you not to be. We both know listening to me isn’t exactly your forte.” Joel smirking against the side of your head at your face instantly falling in a playful offence. “I need you to listen to me this time, though.” 

One arm slid across your stomach, almost as if he knew your hands were itching to hold onto him in some way. His hold pressing you against him further at the feeling of your nails scratching along his arm slightly. Your nod not enough for him, “Out loud.” 

His heartbeat was so much calmer then yours, clearly having taken his jacket off while your back was turned the single thin layers between you meant you could feel him with every breathe. “I’m listening.” 

Joel’s own eyes were off in the distance, staring at the table he could see through the door frame. The kind of nerves he saw on you felt like an echo of that night. So wrapped up in how sure he felt, that he forgot how unused to all this you were. Not used to the feelings that came with finding yourself so close to someone you didn’t expect too. 

He knew all to well what that was like. The girl he felt in his heart like a father to, laying everything out on the line for. Ellie could look back on that day and joke about it. Trying to make a scene over how mistreated she was anytime he made her do a chore she’d turn back with a hand over her head lambasting the time he so callously threw her entire body into a wall. “Like a piece of meat,” she’d go on like.

Being told she’s nothing but cargo to him, not knowing the pure terror the day he could have truly lost her in more vile ways then he wanted to ever imagine. How it wasn’t the only day either.  A small name he only ever felt pain even thinking about slipping from his lips as he looked at Ellie, unable to deny what they had become and just how deeply both of them wanted to hold onto the other.

It was different for you, but he knew whatever family you had wasn’t even present enough for you to care to share. Spending a lifetime outside any kind of walls or city with any form of order, not until you walked into town that day. You were still getting used to him, just as he had to do with Ellie. 

“Maybe in another life, this might go down differently. Ellie decides she doesn’t trust me, I get caught off guard, or by some miracle that doctor even had a fucking clue what he was doing.” Both his arm around you and hand on your hip squeezed tighter. “But that’s not going to happen. We have each other, sweetheart. All three of us. You don’t deserve to be dragged back into this shit. And I’m sure as hell not leaving this world for that son of a bitch thinking he had any right to cut her open for some cure that doesn’t fucking exist. Who didn’t give a second thought about murdering the one other kid in my life who has ever felt like a daughter to me.” 

You could feel the tensity in his muscles, wanting to turn around you tried to twist but Joel kept you in place. Pressing his lips to the back of your head. “He deserved exactly what you gave him, Joel.” Pausing your minds were both torn between two growing factions, one of which had to be dealt with before the other. “She’ll try to get the jump on us. Think I accidentally taught her the advantage of actually sneaking up on people.” 

Joel’s voice was such a deep and bassy rumble in your ear that you couldn’t help your eyes flutter at the sensation. “Then she tries sneaking up on us. You with me?” Nodding in his hold, he muttered “Good girl.” 

Oh he did that on purpose. As soon as your thighs tensed, Joel smirked into your hair. “Joel, we’re supposed to be making a plan- this isn’t fair.” 

His chuckle was closer to your neck as he traced his nose down your cheek and jaw. “You saying I can’t do both?” The hand around your stomach started tracing over you, the way you’d run your hands through his air he traced over your front. When you didn’t respond right away, Joel’s lips pressed one more kiss right under your ear before nudging you with his nose. “We don’t have to do anything, sweetheart. It’s hasn’t been an easy day. I just want to pull you out of that head of yours.” 

This time as you went to turn in his grip he let you. Your hands finding a home on his waist as he kept his back on your hips. His hair somehow just as light and fluffy now as it was when you woke up that morning. Coaxing you awake with his kiss as your hands found his still messy sleeping hair. 

It was just as lovely now, the yellow tinged lights making the greys highlight the rest of the colour that suited him so beautifully. His eyes treading on a darker lust, but instead of a greedy tinge there sat almost a need. Something softer that not even a year ago he thought he’d never even consider wanting anymore. “What is it you want, Joel?” 

Just like he didn’t expect this to be something he ever would want, he almost would never have guessed how easily you got him to open up to you. He’s not sure he’s ever been like this with a woman, even in his old life. 

But you held nothing but an innocent generosity in your eyes, and Joel wasn’t about to part ways with that either. “Call me needy,” leaning to your face his nose trailed along yours as your eyes slid shut. “But what I want, is to feel how warm and tight you are for a little while.” 

Joel read your body like a book, could feel in the smallest actions, the certain pitch of a tiny gasp or the way your body seemed to tense up and shiver at the same time. You always struggled to tell him what you wanted, but he was working you through that. Joel was perfectly happy to take care of you, typically because what he needed matched what you needed perfectly. 

And talking wasn’t always the easiest way to get either of you out of your heads. Joel trying to lull you into his touch when you still hadn’t let go yet. “But if she-” 

One hand tilting you up to his eyes again,”How many does she have with her, if you were to guess?”

If this was about Ellie, there was no way she’d be involved. She wasn’t apart of the group, and there weren’t many people who would follow her on a revenge quest for the father instead of towards the girl they thought they finally had in their possession. “Maybe one or two others, besides him.” Your head nodded in the general direction. “Probably looked at a few different areas. Couple other smaller communities in the state that they would have looked at first. Likely didn’t realize anything was wrong until Owen didn’t check back in. Maybe a day away from here or so.” 

Joel looked through you as he went over something in his head, you guess you still weren’t that good at reading him. Not knowing what plan he was going over. His eyes met yours finally, dipping down to your lips before slowly dragging them back up. “We’re bigger, means she’s got to be more careful. In other words, you can afford to let me have you for a couple hours. Dead man’s final request and all.” 

Your face fell flat along with a weight settling back down in your stomach. “That’s not funny.” 

He shrugged one shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Is it?” The unamused look on your face still tinged in anxiety had Joel switch gears again. He didn’t find anything funny in joking about you or Ellie that way, so maybe it was fair you didn’t find jokes about him funny either. “Hey, I already told you. I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.” 

Biting the inside of your cheek you shifted your eyes off to the side before nodding. Feeling Joel press another kiss to the side of your head as he shoved you towards the hall. “Go, I’ll be right there.” 

In his room and in the hall you both lingered on something. Your fingertips trailing over the almost insignificant things on his dresser. Tiny pieces of Joel that if he were gone, wouldn’t really belong there anymore. A thought making you sick to your stomach. You’d rather she come for you, at least they could go back to their regular lives. 

Joels own fingers flipping through the pages. Knelt down he quietly had pulled the journal from where it sat close on Ellie’s bed. He let her discover it, he already knew what it would say, just in details that actually mattered. 

She went through most of the reactions she could, denial, anger, lashing out before she exhausted herself leaving tears the only energy she had left in her. It tore his chest right open exposing his heart to the cold air. They were the monsters and not only did they want to kill him all for a man who tried to take his own girl’s life but now the delusional lies they told themselves left her feeling betrayed and used. 

But it wasn’t just her was it? By some miracle some higher power gave Joel not one, but two things in this nightmare to hold onto. Sometimes it was frustrating, watching you unable to believe what he wanted to give you, but then again he wasn’t much different with Ellie was he? 

Ellie pulled him out of a darkness, and Joel had no intention of not doing the same to you. And he knew damn well Ellie felt the same. 

Standing in his room, it occurred to you that maybe you should try to be sexy, allure Joel to you or anything like that. You felt stupid though even thinking about where to start or if he would just roll his eyes at you for trying.

The door closing knocked a sense into you, realizing maybe he wanted you to be ready by now you almost flinched back before starting to pull your shirt up. Two large hands however covered yours as he pressed himself behind you. “Doing my job for me.” 

Your arms went willingly Joel stopped to pull your bra up over you along with the shirt, dropping it down into a messy pile. He wasted no time in filling his hands up with your breasts, almost kneading the plush skin as your back arched into his chest with a breathless gasp. He didn’t want you like this though, he wanted all of you. 

Using his thumb and index finger he tugged slightly at both your nipples letting you choke a moan back as he moved onto the rest of you. His taller figure leaned over you, the once presumed glare narrowing his features now rung in your head as an introspective train of thought, determined in whatever task even with his arms wrapped around your front skillfully undoing the button on your pants. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his mouth bent to press a feather light kiss to your neck so he could reach lower, dragging the zipper down and grasp the waistline. Your shivering from the winters cold air still floating through the room, you felt your limbs tingle as he mumbled into your neck, “Be good for me.” 

Slowly starting to pull both your pants and underwear down, Joel couldn’t help his greed, pausing to squeeze fistfuls of your ass almost too roughly before continuing to pull them off of you. Before he could do anything else, once you stood bare in front of him, you turned in his hold quickly. 

Sudden movement catching him by surprise, it gave you enough time to already start undoing his belt and zipper. Joel’s own plans caught in his mouth at just how easily you made him so unbearably hard just at your small careful hands trying to pull out his cock before he even has properly touched you yet. 

He didn’t let you get as far as the faint beginning of you moving your fingers to grasp at his own pants before snatching your hands. Your eyes wide as he held them in the air, his eyes dark with a mocking disapproval. “Now what did I say about being good for me?” 

That tingle in your limbs spreading through your heart out into your veins as you bit slightly at your bottom lip at his tone. Your hands fell loose in his grip causing him to switch to approval. Maneuvering you so he now was the one with his back to the bed, he held you at your hips walking you over to the bed. 

“Now, are you going to let me do something for you? Something new?” Your eyebrows raised in question, unsure to what he meant. You thought at this point you had done mostly everything or at least knew everything. 

Living outside of the walls didn’t exactly foster an environment eager to share or teach the fun side of sex, or you know, it in general in your case. “I-yeah.” Boy, how enthusiastic of you. 

Joel only smiled softly though, pulling your chin in to press a soft kiss before pulling you onto the bed with him. Joel the one laying with his back on the sheets, he guided you so your core sat pressed right against the bumpiness that blocked his cock under the open belt. Large warm hands running over and squeezing the plush skin he could grab at watching you slip your fingers to smooth over his stomach under his shirt. 

“Come up here, sweetheart.” 

You both had two different intentions. One being you assuming he means for a kiss, the other using his strong arms to pull your hips off his clothed cock and up his body. Suddenly your soft touch against his skin turned into a much more urgent press against his chest, “Wait, wait-” Joel kept you in place, but his eyes narrowed in concern at your tone. Your question confusing him somewhat. “What are you doing?” 

His tone slow and clear as he worry turned to a bit of confusion. “I’m just trying to taste you, sweetheart. Just like always,” 

Your fingers pressed into him more, causing him to sit up slightly as you looked hesitant and even somewhat embarrassed. “But why would I-” Your eyes casted down at anywhere but his face as you put the not so complicated clues together. “Why would you want it that way? Instead of you know, like we usually...” Christ you couldn’t possibly feel less attractive currently.

Joel raised an eyebrow, letting your hips back down without moving you away, his hands now smoothing over your thighs. “Because I really want my mouth on this pussy, sweetheart.” 

Your body tensed which he didn’t like at all. “Why would you, I mean wouldn’t you find that...” You hesitated on saying gross, having a feeling that wouldn’t be a word to go over well. “...uncomfortable?”

Joel’s hands squeezed your thighs as his head flopped back down onto the pillow. Unable to stop wondering what kind of encounters you had out there. You genuinely just didn’t know what he was trying to do, looking at him in the most confused innocent way he’s ever seen on you. “Jesus fucking christ, you’re going to kill me.” Barely mumbling under his breathe. Sitting up properly, he maneuvered you into his lap. “We don’t have to do it, but I really fucking want to.” 

Your hands tapping at his shoulders, you seemed to drop some of the embarrassment leaving just an uncertainty. “I just don’t get why you’d want to..can’t I just suck your cock?” 

Joel’s head dropping down onto your shoulder as he mumbled even more. Sliding his hand between your bodies, he felt a trace of your wetness, using what he could touch to slide up and rub into your clit. “We can do that if you want. Or we can do both at the same time.” 

This time you smiled, pulling back with a laugh as he joined keeping you from going too far off in his hold. “Okay that sounds even worse for you.” 

He let you get away with it this time. Joel pulled you into his lips, sighing as you let his tongue tease and slide into your mouth as he kissed you. The push and pull of his tongue against yours sending shock waves between your legs adding to what you already knew was making a mess. His kiss and his tongue always making you so lightheaded. 

Taking advantage of how lost you got in his kiss, Joel suddenly lurched forward, sending your back to fall against the rest of the bed as he crawled over top of you. Your hands finding their way to rake through his hair as he kissed you more. 

Joels hands unable to choose a spot to touch you, from your hips to thighs and back to to teasing your nipples, he tucked his head into your neck once more as he kissed the skin there. 

One hand of your leaving his hair, trailing down his broad back to his narrower lower side before sliding under to gently take his cock into your hand. His hands gripping his preexisting hold on your nipples tighter as he groaned. Joel covering your body so much made the angle not easy, but you ran your thumb over hips tip already leaking onto your hand. 

In a move that actually caused Joel’s body to jump, you suddenly smoothed your palm all over the tip of his cock, smearing the precum over it before sliding it down the length you could reach. Enough precum on you to fill the air with the slick sounds of his skin with each stroke. Joel moaned into your neck before trying to smother it with biting a mark into it. He was too long and too thick to cover enough even half of his cock, but your grip was tight and strokes fast but steady. 

Yanking your head to angle for his mouth, you gripped him tighter in pleasure at how his hold on your hair was so commanding.  Biting against your lips this time until you whined in need of a breathe. The feeling of his lips sliding across your cheek to right against your ear. “I want this pussy, not your hand.” 

Sliding own he pushed your thighs out to spread enough for his size. Giving you no warning for how quickly he moved his mouth over your clit. His hands never letting go of your spread legs with a bruising strength, his was shameless in how sloppy he was. Licking at your clit only to almost kiss it as he would your actual lips. The same soaked licks moving down to tease at your entrance, to your clit and back. 

One hand roughly shoved its way to your mound, pressing the heel of his calm into your clit soaked with you and his own saliva and rubbed short quick strokes. As one knee bent with your gasp, Joel used his free hand to greedily hold the soft skin of your waist before licking into you feverishly. 

Your back arched off the bed as a shock stabbed through you, sending a fiery pleasure into every stretch of your nerves. He licked into you with no cohesive pattern or approach, just drinking from you like a man starved for only one need. His rubbing into your clit lost in your wetness form how little he moved away from it, but deep in Joel he knew the slight burn of drier friction on your clit yanked cries from you. 

Your orgasm suddenly hit you with a force, “Oh fuck, Joel-” A white hot train flowing from your clit and soaked right into Joel who only added to the feeling as he moaned into your pussy. His grip already so tight he’d be able to see bruises once he was done with you. 

He never let up, “Fuck, baby.” Mumbling to himself as he licked more inside of you, letting his hand slide down to gather more from your core he realized just how unbelievably soaked you were. His tongue grazing up against a sensitive wall inside of you, he gave you zero time to calm down. 

The wet rubs of two fingers against your clit, harsh pushing and tight strokes the wet sounds filling the air alongside how relentless he tasted you. Your hands tightly grasping the sheets just above your head as your whole lower half arched closer to his mouth. 

Your heart beat widely out of your chest as the pleasure coiled inside of you without ever letting you recover from the sudden burst of your first orgasm. Your legs shook as he kept them bent by the knee, feet flat on the sheets as they were spread as far as he could manage. 

You didn’t even realize when one hand left your hip, his grip so tight it held a phantom sting in its departure. Joel’s own hips lifting up enough to start shoving his jeans down as far as he could manage without leaving your cunt. 

The groan vibrating through your body as he finally was free down to his knees and pressed his cock into the sheets adding to whatever mess he was pulling from you. You didn’t have words this time, just high pitched gasps and desperate attempts at his name that were interrupted by sharp jolts of pleasure almost bordering on pain. 

The flying burn of your orgasm this time felt like a flood passing the bloodstream. A needing warmth engulfing you as the white noise in your ears turned out whatever was passing by Joel’s lips. You missed it the first time, and now the second time. 

Joel didn’t realize it either. He knew exactly the feeling and why it made him take you with such a lack of control but neither of you were in the state of mind that night to hear it. 

You had just barley felt the final shocks of pleasure as Joel pulled from you. His face twisted close to a snarl as he impatiently pulled his jeans off the rest of the way. Grabbing the back of his shirts collar and throwing it beyond sight. 

His chest leading to such a soft stomach made his thick cock stand out between his legs. You touched the skin over his chest near his heart, but Joel couldn’t handle such a soft touch. Not right now. He couldn’t lay there and let himself feel your gentleness without something in his heart snapping. Instead, Joel yanked up your hips and sunk his cock into your folds. 

Your name moaned from his mouth, “Fuck, don’t- oh fuck.” You hadn’t come down yet, aftershocks of your orgasm overwhelmed your system as you felt his thick cock sliding into you. Clenching around him without trying to tease, you were still soaking his cock from your orgasms. 

Joel buried his face into your neck. One hand fisted into the sheets beside your head as he closed his eyes. Your arms wrapped around his neck, you paused mid motion as your rang your hands through the ends of his hair as one arm wrapped around your waist to keep himself tucked inside you but strong enough to keep you from moving. 

It actually took a bit before Joel tempered whatever aggression was overwhelming him. He wanted to do this for you, but now your touch, your cunt, your soft lips always speaking and pressing so sweetly against his? It tugged at his heart just as much as he took over all of your senses. 

The grip on your hair tempered down to cupping the back of your head. Joel moving to consume you in a less rough kiss, but the damage was already done to your swollen bitten lips. The plumpness just like his own without the greedy teeth markings. 

Your heart slowing down, but somehow still hard enough to feel in your chest at his touch. Joel pulled away, tracing his nose along yours. “Turn around for me, sweet girl.” 

Joel gently shushing comfortingly at you at your whine when he pulled out. But you complied. Joel’s mouth was open, panting as his hands clenched beside him watching you go willingly move to your hands and knees. But that’s not the closeness either of you truly needed. 

You sighed at how much more gentle his touch was, moving you up to kneel your back against his chest just like earlier. His cock slid between your thighs, already soaked as it teased between your folds. “Just like that, I’ve got you.” 

One of your arms reaching behind to find a tender home in his now messy hair, while the other laid flat against the arm wrapping around your stomach. “Please,” You leaned your head against his shoulder as Joel rubbed your stomach and hip with his free hand. His brown eyes bright and so much less of a dark lust, replaced with a soft almost desperateness. “I want to feel you. Please? I can still take it, I just want you inside of me.” 

You felt so one note in your brain, but Joel dealt the killing blow when he pressed his lips to yours. Not rough, or commanding, just soft kisses that he struggled to part from. Finally moving to grip his cock, he pulled away and turned your head to look down. 

Joel slid his cock inside of you, not spending a moment to stop and let you adjust to his size. Just one smooth stroke that didn’t thrust into you too fast until you were sat totally full of his cock. “Always slide so well into you,” 

Your eyes squeezing shut at the sight, his cock was so thick watching it slide deep inside you was too much to handle. Your head leaned back against him, lungs stuttering at how drastic he was handling you now compared to mere minutes ago. 

Joel held you tightly against him, burying his face into your neck and shoulder as he started to finally slide his cock almost out of you. Your whimper at the prospect of him leaving you empty poking at something distressing in your mind. 

You weren’t sure he ever kept up a pace this slow. Your pussy so tight and wet around his cock, making the sounds of him pulling and pushing his cock in and out so much louder. How much you’ve already cum so much more obvious as he moaned into your shoulder. 

You couldn’t tell anyone how long you were there. Knelt back against his chest as his cock fucked into you, not even hard enough to call it thrusting. Your chest felt so constricted yet filed with a warmth that would be cozy if his cock wasn’t sliding right up against such a sensitive wall inside of you. 

Inside of you this time the coil was just a slow and calm. But the addition of how tight he already pushed your orgasm too had this build up flutter around you. It just slipped from your lips, the brave face you tried to fake in front of him, in front of everyone crumbled with his squeezing hands and slow slide of his cock inside of you. Something deep in your heart plead. “Stay with me, please. God, Joel- stay with me.” 

Your eyes were shut and Joels arms held you tighter. His jaw clenching, teeth gritted as his breaths came out in rasping pants. He pressed his lips into your neck and whatever part of your jaw he couch reach. “Always, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. “

Even as his cock throbbed inside of you as your walls clenched around him, as the burning orgasm threatened to overtake you once more, it all mixed together as you just whispered his name. The drag of his cock along the sensitive walls of your cunt pushed tears from your eyes. 

Gasps and breathless pleas let go of the stinging tears behind your eyes and cried down your cheeks as one final loud and wet push of his cock inside of you had whatever hold you had on him dig your nails into his skin. 

Your orgasm pulling a gasping sob from you. Just one, but loud enough in Joel’s ears to cover your mouth as your pleasure sung into his hand. Joel couldn’t take it any longer. His cock so desperate to burst, he moaned into your neck and finally came.

Your pussy fluttering around him, as his cum spilled inside of you. Thick and to both of you, never ending. He came inside of you more then he could remember, filling you with warm cum that didn’t stop the tears of your need. 

By the time you both came down, you had dropped more then Joel had thought. Your eyes barley open, as your struggled to catch your breathe. Weak nods to his questions, asking if you were with him, what you needed, weak thank yous to him just saying how perfect you fit him. 

He shushed in your ear when he pulled out, never letting both hands off of you and his lips somewhere close to yours. You both laid in bed for a while, both your bare, sweat covered bodies, your lower half a little more wet with cum then what he didn’t bother cleaning from his cock. He held you with his nose pressed into your hair waiting for you to come down before he even thought of getting up to clean you off. 

Your mind was fuzzy and your face felt the aftermath of tears but none of it had any regret. Your eyes were closed, fine with coming down in his arms as you faced one another. Slowly ready to peel your eyes open, you noticed he wasn’t at your eye level, his face in your hair. His breathing enough confirmation he hadn’t fallen asleep. 

You burned between your legs, the mix of rough and soft kept the memory of his thick throbbing cock inside of you. You knew you were covered in cum between your thighs but you didn’t have any reason to want to get rid of it anytime soon. 

You did however ask to do something Joel ignored. Smirking, you suddenly left his gentle pressed arms, down his body. He flipped onto his back reflexively to see what you were doing, before hissing out. 

Licking the tip of his cock before sinking down around the rest. His cock now soft but it still was coated in your orgasm and his cum. Joels moans were stuttering and needy as he cupped the back of your head, still bobbing up and down his length sucking him until his chest was ready to explode. He called your name in warning along with more strings of swearing through hissed teeth, “Jesus fucking christ, baby”, but you already were slowing down the second it bordered too overwhelming for him. 

Your mouth sliding down to press your nose into the coarse dark hair around his cock, before very slowly sliding back, making sure his cock didn’t leave you until you had sucked him clean. Only fair he gets even the slightest idea of how overstimulated he so greedily made you.

Sliding him gently out of your mouth you went to come back up to his level. Your hand cupped his soft length now resting between his legs before your palm moving to his stomach. Chest, and the cupping the side of his face as you rubbed your thumb along his facial hair.

Joel chuckled deeply in his chest, pulling your face to his with fingers pulling your chin as he kissed you. Pushing you back into the sheets with half his body over you as you shared a gentle kiss. “You are such a goddamn brat.” 

You smiled back, letting his tongue tease yours as you tried to find breathes into between the kiss. “Maybe. Just for you though.” 

He nuzzled his nose against yours then pressed a kiss to it. He didn’t say it, he so badly wanted to say it but so much of his emotions came out in times like this. He wanted to tell you in quiet peace, make sure you understand your heart belongs to him for the rest of his life. Telling you now, he didn’t want to risk you thinking it was just to keep you calm or not upset. 

Neither of you realizing he’s already said it twice this very evening. 

Only one of those times did it reach someones brain, but to their dismay, it was neither of you who even heard what came out of his own mouth. 

You spoke quietly into the night. Joel on his back as he kept his arms around you to rest on his chest. Sometimes you sat up enough to look at him properly, ensuring you both understood the plans, backup plans, and what might be the safest option. At least for in his home, in a town of innocent people. 

You needed Joel, but Joel needed you like he never even wanted from anyone else before. The concept of a deep need in his heart to keep a woman like you close in his arms like a lifeline would have been foreign not long ago. But then again, meeting Ellie changed a lot about what was going on in Joel’s head and heart. 

You took your time joining the two of them that morning. Still balancing intruding on what was no doubt an emotional time between those two, and wondering exactly what Ellie would even see you as. 

Joel for his part was as normal as possible, with an underlying closeness both he and Ellie stuck to each other with with a different kind of silent intensity. You did tell him your news would be the actually hurtful one. Ellie stopped moving her fork the second you turned the corner, a stare that almost felt judging but the slightest softening as she sniffed and forced her face impassive. 

Sensing Joel watching her carefully, Ellie glanced up at his flat expression with one eyebrow raised. Her own face falling just as flat. “What? I already used my crying quota for the week. And I’m not getting it all over my eggs either.” 

It wasn’t enough to jostle her, but Joel nudging the side of her head lightly before sharing a more serious glance with you. His eyes nodded over to a drawer in the counter, watching you for as long as he could follow. Neither of you wanting to make a scene about it in front of Ellie. 

Watching the their backs as you silently wrapped the your knife sheath around your waist, quickly covering it purposely with one of Joel’s jackets that sat just blow it on your thigh. He had taken it upon himself to sharpen your usual knife for you, not before stopping of course to comment on how shit it looked. Words of praise towards your equipment he was full of. 

You had found yourself alone with Owen when Joel was distracted. Ellie prompted out of the house from a Maria that gave Joel a knowing look. He had stopped by earlier to talk to them, and she agreed to keep Ellie out with her, purposely around a decent amount of people. 

A spark of need inside your heart telling you that he at least deserved water. He didn’t say much, but his eyes spoke for him. A surprise at being given any hospitality. 

Almost ending up giving him an entire bottle, you watched him with one hand hovering somewhat near his face. Looking between the water and his face, you tilted your head as you considered if you were willing to ignore the part of you that people like him tried to deprive you of. “If I take that off of you,” using your free hand to gesture to his gag, “Are you going to stay quiet?” 

Owen seemed exhausted, nodding his head almost lazily as your chest raised in a deep breathe. “You make any noise, this time I’m just going to stuff it right into your mouth.” There wasn’t much in the way of conviction in your voice, but as you slowly untied the gag he made no sound aside from catching his breath. 

Flipping the bottle against the cloth, you let it soak for a while on the cleanest side where it sat at the back of his head. 

Silence, Joel was used too. He lived in it, too much of it for a long time even. Even through the turmoil in his head, the quiet still helped him stay clear. Listening to any hint of a sound and knowing how to react to it. 

Probably why he didn’t search for you when he found himself seemingly alone in the house. If he had one distraction it was you, and an unshakable need to make sure he could hear or see your every step. The past few weeks had really set that tendency in motion. But he needed silence. And he heard it break. 

Getting the jump on him outside in the world was one thing, but this was his territory. Somewhere he could sense the slightest thing out of place. Joel just raised two hands slightly in the air. He knew it could be a variety of possibilities behind him, so he played ball. For now. “You really think I can’t tell when someone’s in my own home?”  

“Just turn around. Slowly.” 

Joel expected something not quite what he saw. Dark eyes and angry, willing to do anything for that ravaging vengeance inside. But no. The woman behind him wasn’t quite that. As if it was what she wanted to put on but there was an uncertainty in her eyes that made him narrow his. Her face was tense, looking over him with her arm outstretched as much as she could. Either keeping the gun as close to him as possible, or wanting to keep as much distance from him. 

“You live here?” 

Joel’s eyes darkened more at the woman. “You sure don’t.” 

“Just answer the question, you live here right? With a girl? Fucking, what’s her name, Ellie?” 

Sometimes anger worked in favour of the advantage, but not against him. Joel mastered the art of anger as motivation and there wasn’t a single second ever again did he want any of her kind of people saying that girls name. His face steeled at her, hands up almost just for show at this point. “Keep her name out of this. I think we both know who you’re looking for.” 

A realization dawned on her, and it only pissed her off that much more that he was having no reaction of fear. “You’re him right?” Joel cocked an eyebrow but nothing more. “The hospital, that was you right? You’ve got the girl, after everything you’ve done I can’t imagine you’d dump her off somewhere. People usually don’t ditch people they’ve murdered innocent people for.” 

Her own teeth started to grit as she spat her words out with eyes no doubt growing red. “You in the habit of cutting open a fucking child and calling yourself a good person for it?” 

Shaking her head, Joel could hear how hard she was trying to keep her breathing under control, her fingers on the gun twitching slightly and not from any kind of trigger fingers. “No right, you had no fucking right he was a goddamn person-” 

Joel’s hands started to lower, and yet it didn’t make her any more confident. The twitch turned into what looked like her hand shaking. “And she’s my daughter.” 

She shook her head, eyes falling in darkness to something much more complicated. “So what you get your daughter and I have to loose my own father for it? Fucking..people like you...” 

No doubt this was a plan much more confident in theory, because Joel risked a step forward as his face twisted more into something of anger she took a step back. Readjusting her aim with an unsteady arm. 

“Put your hands back up,” 

They remained just barley by his sides, “You think I’m gonna reach for something? ‘Cus trust me you even think about pulling that trigger and I’ll make sure you regret it.” 

Whatever laugh she let out was weak, but the tense look one could mistaken for crazed told a thousand different emotions. “I’m not stupid, I know you don’t have a fucking weapon on you.” 

The one he thought was in the room wasn’t. Getting caught off guard by her after getting caught off guard by it’s lack of presence. Ellie didn’t always put things in the right place after she tries to sneak them away. His voice was low, even, and absolute that it made her hair stand on end. “You really think I need a gun to kill you?” 

You don’t remember Grady being particularly smart. Loyal, good at following orders but missing the basic function of checking a corner. Crouching as he snuck into the room, he could see Owen knelt on the floor, blood on his face, chest, hands and a swollen eye as even his gag was blood soaked. What he didn’t see was you. 

One arm suddenly wrapped around his face, the fabric of it’s jacket shoved to muffle his voice as the other hand pressed a cold metal to the bottom of his head right at his chin. Unlike the shaky arm holding a similar gun at Joel, you had the advantage of having yours at least pressed right against the mans head. Grady didn’t feel the shake in your bones behind the straining muscle. 

Moving him closer to the open door, your heart pounded so harshly that you could throw up from the shaking pressure it put on you. You could hear her yelling, and a dangerously low cadence from Joel, but she was getting louder and angrier. 

And while you had this one and a knife strapped to your side, Joel’s gun sat tucked behind your back only realizing whoever touched it last, didn’t put it where Joel had clearly expected to grab it before being snuck up on. 

He was bigger, stronger then her. But if she shot first then it didn’t matter how much Joel could overpower her. She was yelling more, and so did your limbs shake. You were supposed to help have this under control, but she was looking for blood and Joel’s own gun wasn’t in his hand. 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you dead right now you fucking bastard-” Joel must have said something in response, “Her dad for my dad it’s only fair,” 

You couldn’t stand there, you couldn’t let him deal with her on his own. You push an already aggressive dog to the edge, then she’s just going to go for the throat because she can. Plan B it was. Despite not knowing what that entailed. 

A hallway door was kicked open, and following right out was a man Joel didn’t recognize but by the confused anger on her face, she did. Deep down Joel wished the voice was Tommy. There was no hesitation the man could handle himself, and didn’t make Joel feel cold and petrified at having to involve you in this more. 

But you rang a warning shot at a higher part of the wall that had the woman jump in startle. What followed though, was a reaction that in a way reminded him of you. Likely an ironic association, because all that it took was you yell out who you were. Her eyes widened as the hand pointed right at Joel trembled. A washing devastation that surpassed mere surprise, something she didn’t expect and neither had Owen.

The man on the floor pressed himself up against the wall in fear as did a new unsettling emotion come over the woman in front of Joel. But you piled onto something that just dug deeper, 

Your voice almost a shout that shook in what Joel felt in his heart a terrified urgency. “You know who I am Abby, and what I’ll do to Owen and Grady if you don’t bring Joel to me.”

Whatever intimidation she felt from a man she considered a monster, Abby’s entire being shook. Her gun was on Joel but she could barley keep her eyes on him or on Grady just looking at her desperately for help. This wasn’t a normal fear, almost one that was like seeing a ghost she could only hear.

Her yell back was a rasping screech as she morphed her features into too much to keep up with. “You do anything, and I swear to god-” She’d what? Shoot the man in front of her and set you lose on her? 

You needed to scare her. Swallow the dizzying sickness in your head and the bile from eating at your chest. You couldn’t take the chance of her first instinct to act at Joel before you did hers. 

You shook as you pointed the gun at Grady, but you were hidden behind the wall from her sight, and the sting in your eyes couldn’t be used against you. Blood splattered all over the wall behind Grady's head, the booming shot and painted red had Abby flinch back. 

Joel didn’t move. A deep seeded anger at who his life was at the expense of burned his soul, but he didn’t dare risk letting it happen. If Abby was going to shoot, it sure as hell wouldn’t be at him or his own.

In barley a second, you holstered the gun so quick it could have missed and dropped to the floor. The knife at your side flew into your hand, gripping tight as you hauled Owen over in front of you, your knife pressed so much to his throat he made the most inaudible squawks of protest at the sharpness. 

Hauling him up partially on his feet, you pressed with better leverage. “Your boys next Abby- give him to me,” Your voice yelled, so loud it scratched your throat at the strain. It was violent and angry, and you only wished it made you feel it too. Instead you stood, braced against the wall with a knife keeping Owens battered self in your threat as your soul kept shaking and holding back the sting in your eyes. 

Abby’s jaw clenched as she swore, her yell echoing down the halls. “Fuck- okay.” 

It was the only choice for you and her. She wanted Owen back, and you needed Joel. A conflict in her eyes as she looked between the man now slumped over in the hall, and the darkness in a pair of eyes she never truly prepared herself to face properly. 

Abby’s eyes peeled off the sightless body to the open air between it and the door. “We make a trade. I bring him to you, I get Owen back and we leave. Got it?”

You looked to the side, knowing nothing was out the view you could see out the door anyways. “You touch him in anyway and I slit this throat. Got it?” 

One request was shouted back. “Toss the gun.” 

It wasn’t even a second later the gun banged far out on the wooden floor. You it turned out, weren’t the only one with a shaking fear of losing their companion. There wasn’t a soul in that house didn’t radiate that very perilous fear. Joel looked at Abby with his features sharp and penetrating. Her other hand having to rise up and join her hold on the gun just to keep it aimed at him. “This isn’t over you understand me?” 

Abby didn’t appear to know what scared her more. The threat of death you held at Owens throat, or just how terrifyingly cold Joel’s unblinking expression didn’t move from. This was supposed to be easy, kill some guy who shot her father for no reason. But standing here, motioning for him to walk slowly towards the hall? It was made clear that you and Joel weren’t regular people, and this was exposing itself to be something she didn’t remotely prepare for.

It felt like agony standing there, each creak of the floorboard screaming in the terse silence the only indication of life. Owen’s blood was seeping into your clothes and staining your skin at this point and there was next to nothing holding back the pressure behind your eyes. 

You wanted to be someone else. Someone brave, a person others would look at and say is some kind of fighter, someone a kid like Ellie would amusingly call a bad ass. But you stood holding a man at knife point trading his life for the man you love didn’t make you feel brave. Just scared. Scared beyond whatever danger you had been alone in the past, and sick to your stomach that it took up until now for you to feel brave enough to even think that word. 

They were outside the door, but you shook. Grip on the knife so tight you might have started hurting your own palm with the tight grip as you were hurting Owen’s neck with the blade. The bravery wasn’t even in your voice. “Joel first.” 

“Show me him. Let me see him.” 

You were done paying any kind of hero or savior. Instead just tearing the knife away and shoving Owen enough that he stumbled onto the ground. Hands behind his back still too bound to steady him. 

Joel was handed over first. Whatever passed between them unknown to you until a tidal wave hit your heart as you both reached for the other the second he came in view. Joel’s own expression harsh, nostrils flared as his rage was barley contained in his bones. His warm hands gripping your forearms as he looked at a watering overflow of something grander then fear pass your face as you looked him over for anything hurt. 

He cupped one of your cheeks as you took a deep breathe. Joel’s eyes narrowed in question, and you nodded. Hoping the shaking breathe you let you was only audible to one. His hand keeping your touch as it wasn’t leaving one of your wrists, almost keeping your mind back at his side as you turned the corner. 

Neither of you looked like the visage of bravery your actions spoke. Neither of you even tried. Abby’s eyes widened with a taken back sort of shock as she looked at you. A name she kept hearing and denying, but your face that of what she long remembered as a memory. A bite sharp on your arm before watching your gun raise as she fell back to the ground. 

She lived, and kept trying to deny that you could have either. But you both looked at each other, as she held her own gun to you. Resting one side against the door frame just to keep it steady, while your own hand kept the knife painfully tight. 

Joel stood behind you, and you felt him pull up your jacket slightly, resting the fabric to expose what you had hidden away behind you. Abby was staring at you and you back, she didn’t even see Joel’s hands moving near your back. 

Her words slurred together, teeth bordering on gritting from the force. “Give him to me.” 

Joel squeezed your arm holding the knife. Don’t move was his touch. Abby’s gaze continued to plaster all over you, and yours taking her person in, in a capacity she couldn’t possibly even guess now. Blood ringing in your ears hearing the shuffling behind you. Abby kept it on you now, a woman much more a fighter unable to tear her attention away from how entangled your lives became. 

Your own eyes stung. Unable to move or blink, looking at the very thing that confused you. Was her being here what scared you, or how very real losing the one thing that brought you to a purpose was becoming? 

As soon as Joel slightly pushed Owen, Abby snatched him with one arm and yanked him to her side, Owen barley keeping himself up despite his hands now free. Joel having undone them bringing him over. But as soon as he was out of his hand, he reached for your back once more. His arm smoothly pulling the gun, and now aiming it at Abby. She didn’t just try to kill him, now she had her gun pointing at you and it was pushing Joel to an edge he was close to forcing you to let him fall off. 

His instincts were quicker then hers, and he dared her to end it the smarter way, as opposed to joining the mess on the walls behind her. 

Her eyes flickered between the two of you, mind racing with questions not even she could understand at that moment. You weren’t supposed to be here, this wasn’t even about you. Blind to what kind of people she walked in on, she just looked at you and Joel unable to land on what to do. 

You could feel something vile rising in your throat, just as unable to grasp what was unfolding in front of you. Abby had no right to make this about Joel. Either she knew the truth and lost herself beyond the capacity of her own humanity, or she was left in the dark and didn’t care to turn the lights on herself. A fact you couldn’t feel okay with. Your voice was mostly just a whisper once you found the strength to push something forward. “This is really just about your father?” 

You didn’t need to hear the answer to that. You already knew by a confused pain in her eyes. Not understanding what else this could possibly be over. To her it was almost a taunt, her failure she was able to see through, but to you? A memory that no longer felt pushed away. A truth that was fighting tooth and crawl to attack you at your door. 

Owen leaned against her exhausted and bloody. Lowering her gun she glanced down to your arm, it was covered and there was nothing to see though. Remaining you a ghost. 

Her gaze flicked to Joel’s own aim, no shake or tremble to be found. Don described nothing more then some guy had done it, but the inflamed emotions boiling behind Joel’s eyes wasn’t the story she had been sold on. So they ran. Slamming open a back door you not to long ago ran out of just as harshly, also running from these very people but for drastically different reasons. 

 You didn’t register Tommy or Maria coming in, you only had the capacity to feel Joel pull you into his chest. One arm wrapped tightly around your stomach as you finally leaned back into him. Your eyes squeezing shut, you felt Joel gently take your knife from your fingers and put it back in it’s sheath as he spoke to Tommy. 

You grabbed the wrist that wasn’t around you, holding it just as he did when he first came back to you still needing him to ground you to the floor. These weren’t two worlds ever meant to mix. This was supposed to be a solace for him and a breather for you, but you combined your lives and now stood a mess painted with the looming of blood.

Was this your fault? And if not why couldn’t you have done something to actually end this? 

You thought back to the night you and Joel opened up to each other. How the worst emotion you felt was finding out how Tommy blabbed about your feelings for him by the very man you had the such a humiliating crush on. How letting him in was so scary to you back then. 

Would all of this have happened anyways? Or was letting him kiss you that night, pull you into his arms and he yours forever entangling your hearts in ways new to both of you the catalyst? 

If this was all your fault, would Joel end up despising you for not fixing this? 

[shcmook]

I think the story and worldbuilding of TOTK would be overall much better if more of the champion successors had NOT been Sages. As it is, 3 of the main characters of the game end up with this problem where it feels like they’re the only useful person in their entire respective races, and the game seems to be implying they HAVE to perform their multiple roles within their cultures due to their bloodlines.

Tulin stands out as the GOAT of the four main sages for several reasons. One is just that his ability is so constantly useful that I dread going back to BOTW bc I’ll miss those gusts. But also his story is the only one that feels unique to this game. It’s not a sequel to a story in BOTW it’s focusing on a minor character from that game who doesn’t have to now juggle multiple roles in his society. The older members of his tribe are struggling just to get food and take care of the village. Teba can’t take time away from his duties as chief to be the sage. Tulin stepping up and going through his arc feels SO natural and works so well both as a story on its own and as a follow up to the Revali / Teba storyline.

Sidon may be an exception to bc my thesis. It’d seem incredibly out of character and ruin a good arc if this guy didn’t feel in his heart that his place is joining the fight alongside link. It would probably eliminate the queer subtext of sidons inner conflict as well but we’d still headcanon it no matter how it was written. But as is it’s still weird that he feels so torn between being king and being Sage and being with Yona and purifying the water for the domain and helping Link and part of him still mourning Mipha when like. Why can’t Yona do some of those things for him? The idea that he’s worried about losing Yona like he lost Mipha would be much stronger if she was the one going to the temple with Link and Sidon wasn’t ok with it. Yona being the Sage would also still have the three of them had to work through this complicated relationship, and probably just add more layers to a poly reading of that dynamic. Idk. I just think it’s weird that they went to the trouble of creating Yona so that she could be the wife of a guy who is a sage and a king and the Hero’s best friend instead of her having an actual identity or a role of her own. I lied when I said Sidon was an exception, Yona should have been the Sage.

The Gerudo having a weird heirarchy and multiple leader figures within their culture is part of why I love the Gerudo so much in other games. In OOT, Twinrova, the leader you fight in the Fortress, Nabooru, and Ganondorf all fill leadership roles in their society. So why is Riju chief AND sage? Why not make Buliara the sage? Rijus main thing in the other games was her sandseal, she didn’t have thunder powers before this game. Buliara is literally a Guard so it’d give failing the town defense missions more emotional stakes if you losing means she fails her duty. I love Riju but. It’s make more sense for her, as Chief, to be busy managing her tribe’s underground affairs while Buliara feels ashamed at not being able to defend her Chief from the Gibdo threat and then *she* gains lightning abilities while training in the ruins.

I’ll be honest I haven’t actually played the Goron quest yet. But was anyone really hoping for more yunobo after the first game? I like the idea of him getting corrupted by Ganon I like the whole marbled rock roast concept. But why not introduce a new Goron who helps us free Yunobo from Ganon’s influence? And then that bro becomes the Sage instead? Doing this relieves us of having the bit in the story where the Sage of fire kind of ruins the lives of a bunch of his own people, and then still gets to be their Hero. It’s waved away too easily and I don’t like it and also I just don’t like Yunobo. If any of the Champions’ successors should’ve been replaced it’s him.

In conclusion: Tulin’s story I s the BEST, and more of the Sage quests should have been based and Tulin pilled.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Game Set Match - ao3

Pairings: Jiang Cheng/Su She/Lan Xichen

Author Note: Sequel to “Dangerous Game”, “The Games We Play”, and "Playing a New Game". Helps to have read at least Playing a New Game to explain some of the background. No non-con/dub-con in this one.

----

“Just so we’re clear,” Su She said. “We’re all in agreement that this isn’t actually talking, right?”

“He said we need to talk, not that we have to talk,” Jiang Cheng pointed out. “We hate talking.”

Su She grimaced, conceding the point.

Jiang Cheng glanced down at Lan Xichen. “Is it tight enough?”

“I think so,” Lan Xichen said, lifting himself up a little to test the give of the rope on his wrists. He had circles under his eyes that were similar to theirs – seclusion, it seemed, had not provided him with the solace and peace he might have hoped for. “Yes, I don’t think I can get out easily. Thank you.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, but double checked the knots Su She had tied one more time anyway, knowing what he did about Lan sect arm strength. Personally, he didn’t understand the appeal of being immobilized, reminding him as it did his brief but thoroughly miserable time in Wen Chao’s grasp, but he supposed Lan Xichen probably didn’t really understand his own particular needs, either. Or Su She’s, for that matter.

Understanding wasn’t really big on the list of priorities for tonight, though.

“Do you want me to tie your feet down, too?” he asked, and Lan Xichen hesitated. “Apart, perhaps?”

“If he really wanted to be rendered helpless, I could just lock away his spiritual energy,” Su She grumbled, and Lan Xichen flinched.

Memories of the Guanyin Temple, no doubt.

“Su She,” Jiang Cheng said sharply, and Su She winced and hung his head. Practically an apology, given how prideful he was. “We agreed that we’d take care of Zewu-jun today. Don’t be cruel unless he asks you to be.”

Being with Su She, who had a belly full of bitterness and very little inclination to keep it to himself, meant that Jiang Cheng had gotten used to just – saying things like that.

And that meant, now, that he could enjoy how Lan Xichen blushed when he did.

(It wasn’t that Jiang Cheng didn’t understand where Jin Guangyao was coming from, sometimes. But he wouldn’t use it against someone, not the way Jin Guangyao had. Not in a way that was meant to damage.)

“It was just a suggestion,” Su She mumbled, but his shoulders were up by his ears, defensive. He knew he’d done wrong, brought up something too close to that time, and he’d done it on purpose, too.

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “Even so, you know better,” he said sternly, and saw Su She’s shoulders come down a little, giving in as Jiang Cheng had hoped he would – the only way something like this would work is if it gave all of them a little something of what they needed. “I know you do. What do you need to do now?”

Su She squirmed, but Jiang Cheng gave him the look he liked so much, ignoring the way Lan Xichen’s eyes flickered between them, watching and observing until Su She gave in.

“I’m sorry, Sect Leader Lan,” he muttered, his voice subtly pitched a little higher. Not enough for most people to notice.

“Don’t call me that, please,” Lan Xichen said. He’d noticed. There was a crease in his brow, thoughtful, and perhaps a little concerned. His eyes kept flickering between them. “You can call me by name.”

Su She shook his head sharply, his eyes flaring wide and white around the edges.

“By title,” Jiang Cheng interjected. “You can call him Zewu-jun.”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “That works. Just not – Sect Leader. Zewu-jun is fine. Thank you.”

“You’re good at thanking people,” Jiang Cheng observed, and saw the brief flash of pain. A sore spot, then. “You like thanking people.”

No pain. Interesting.

“Shouldn’t you thank Su She for how good a job he did, with the rope?” Jiang Cheng asked, treading gingerly. He wasn’t Jin Guangyao, he couldn’t figure a person out just by looking at them, and he knew himself and his temper – he needed to be cautious, careful, thoughtful. This whole encounter was like walking on the very edge of a cliff, dangerous and terrifying…but also exhilarating.

Especially when his fumbling guess was rewarded by Lan Xichen licking his lips a little, as if his throat had gone dry. He hadn’t quite hit on what it was that made Lan Xichen tick just yet, but it certainly seemed like their guest liked being given permission and ordered around, a little like Su She – which made a certain amount of sense, given their shared background, and really the Lan sect ought to do some reflection if all its disciples were turning out like this – but unlike either Jiang Cheng or Su She, it seemed that he didn’t necessarily like being complimented.

“You should,” Jiang Cheng said, then took a guess. “He likes it when people tell him that he’s done well.”

Lan Xichen’s inhale was audible.

“This was a bad idea,” he said instead of obeying, though notably he didn’t use any of the signs Jiang Cheng had given him to signal that he genuinely wanted to stop, neither verbal nor physical. “This is a bad idea. I – you two are happy. Why should I ruin it?”

“You weren’t the one who ruined it,” Su She said, that bitterness of his rising up again. “It was always going to end in ruin, no matter what any of us wanted…can I kiss you?”

Lan Xichen stared at him. His ears had gone red.

“I saw him do it once,” Su She continued. “In the gardens out back of Jinlin Tower, when you thought no one was there. You had to kneel on a bench after a while, bending over the way you were…you couldn’t catch your breath. He didn’t let you. You liked that.”

Truly, Su She’s memory for petty little grudges was unlike any other. If it came down to it, Jiang Cheng would bet that he could outdo even Jin Guangyao himself in remembering things like that.

“I did,” Lan Xichen said, his gaze steady at Su She. And then – “Were you jealous?”

“Of course not,” Su She scoffed, snide and snarky and immediately on the offensive as always. “Why would I be jealous of you? He couldn’t even be bothered to make proper use of you.”

Jiang Cheng thought he’d need to intervene again, that this was another sore spot in a night that was bound to poke at all their most tender spots, but before he did, he noticed that Lan Xichen’s inner robes had shifted a little, the motion suggesting his cock starting to fill underneath his clothing.

Su She’s intentional spitefulness, his meanness, was doing it for Lan Xichen.

Very interesting.

“Besides, if I was going to be jealous of anyone, I’d be jealous of Jiang Cheng,” Su She said haughtily. “You should have seen them together. He’d whisper the sweetest things to Jiang Cheng, tell him all sorts of things – he told him he was the best he’d ever seen, the most beautiful. The best.”

And now it was Jiang Cheng that was getting hard. Unsurprisingly.

“And if Jiang Cheng’s the best, what does that leave you, Zewu-jun? Second-best?” Su She sneered. “You were always good at being second, er-ge.”

Lan Xichen’s hips rocked upwards, almost involuntarily. He was hard as a rock by now.

“Now, now, not so fast,” Jiang Cheng said dryly, and Su She looked at him at once, seeking approval or censure with equal fervor. “Maybe Zewu-jun’s just slow on the uptake. After all, didn’t I tell him to thank you? And he still hasn’t done it, even after all this time. Maybe he needs to be forced.”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, and he was straining against the ropes – but just with his hands, bound as he was by the wrist, by the arms, by the shoulders and torso, the rope snaking down to bind his hips; Jiang Cheng had initially thought it was overkill, but apparently Su She knew Lan Xichen better than he did. “Yes, please.”

“You can kiss him,” Jiang Cheng said to Su She. “But only when I say you can.”

“When I’ve been good?”

Jiang Cheng put his hand into Su She’s hair and drew him over for a kiss of his own. “You’re always good,” he said. “You’ll get to kiss him when you deserve it.”

When he pulled away from the kiss, Lan Xichen was watching.

His eyes were dark and avid – alive, in a way they hadn’t been when he’d first arrived that evening.

But then, Jiang Cheng supposed that was why they were here. Why they were doing this…this crazy thing, going to bed together all the three of them. They were thoroughly ill-matched for each other: Su She had a longstanding grudge when it came to the Lan sect, mixed thoroughly with childhood terror, Lan Xichen had deliberately left Jiang Cheng out of his sworn brotherhood all that time ago even knowing the political implications and fallout it would cause, and Jiang Cheng had spent nearly a decade envying Lan Xichen for having the perfect life and brother and lover that he lacked. They had nothing between them but old grudges. They had nothing in common other than having been Jin Guangyao’s targets.

That was enough.

No one could understand them the way they could understand each other. Anyone who hadn’t been there, who hadn’t been seduced by Jin Guangyao’s quiet charisma, his gentleness that seemed like softness right up until you’d been sucked in past the point of no return – they wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know what it was like to need someone so desperately that you lost yourself, to love them and believe yourself to be loved and to know deep down during every single moment of it that you were lying to yourself.

They’d never been pushed to the edge of their boundaries and beyond. Never been torn down – torn apart, and then remade in another image just to win a smile full of lies.

“Su She,” Jiang Cheng said, leaning back. “Get him ready, will you?”

Su She loved to obey, and so he did. He pulled open Lan Xichen’s robes and removed his pants, leaving him bare from the waist down with his robes pushed up to his belly, and he descended upon him with ravening hunger.

“Tell me, Zewu-jun, is it the punishment that you like?” Jiang Cheng asked, idly stroking his cock as he watched Su She kiss his way up Lan Xichen’s thigh, alternating licking and biting, stroking and pinching. “Or the envy?”

It took a while for Lan Xichen to gather his bearings enough to answer; he was deeply frazzled, and clearly not used to Su She’s energy and enthusiasm. It was enough to make one wonder how much use Jin Guangyao had made of him, all those years – whether he’d dared profane his beloved er-ge on a regular basis, or if he’d kept him safe and secure on a shelf, only taking him out on special occasions.

“I – neither,” Lan Xichen said, whining deep in his throat as he arched his hips up. “It’s – ah! – it’s the – you don’t rely on me. Respect me. I don’t have to live up to anything…ah!”

Su She had taken Lan Xichen’s cock all the way into his mouth – a remarkable achievement, actually, given Lan Xichen’s size, and it was fairly clear from Lan Xichen’s expression that he had not been expecting it, and indeed had perhaps not even experienced such a thing before. From experience, Jiang Cheng knew that Jin Guangyao did not enjoy using his mouth on others, and certainly not once he’d gotten them hooked; he preferred being serviced to doing the servicing.

“So it’s the cruelty,” Jiang Cheng said. And then, purposefully mean now that he knew Lan Xichen liked it, he added, “You know, I’m surprised Jin Guangyao even gave you what you needed. He was cruel enough to the rest of us, but he always put you on a pedestal.”

“He – he made it – I wanted – honesty…”

“From him?” Jiang Cheng asked, and there was pain as well as pleasure on Lan Xichen’s features. “You really know how to pick them, Zewu-jun.”

“Zewu-jun is great and good,” Su She said, lifting his head up; from Lan Xichen’s yelp, it was clear he’d slid at least one finger into him, and roughly, too. “He’s wise and thoughtful, with careful discernment and good judgment, but above all he is kind and good to those in need.”

Those were precisely the sorts of compliments Lan Xichen had probably heard to death – though probably, Jiang Cheng thought, never before with such sheer dripping sarcasm as Su She imbued into his words.

“I’m sure he would never make any sort of mistake,” Su She continued, venomously nice. “Oh, no, not the precious First Jade of Lan! Even when he admits his fault, it’s not error, merely a demonstration of his great capacity for humility, a lesson for all those around him –”

It was quite possible that Su She was quoting someone specific, now that Jiang Cheng thought about it.

“That’s not – I’m not –” Lan Xichen was gasping for air. He looked remarkably well-put together even while being ravaged; it was really unfair. “That’s not – cruelty.”

“Isn’t it?” Jiang Cheng asked. “The way he says it?”

Lan Xichen faltered.  

“Hey, Jiang Cheng, do you think he’s deaf or just too above-it-all to listen to people?” Su She asked, leaning down to lick at Lan Xichen’s cock even as he complained. “You told him yourself that I wasn’t allowed to be cruel to him unless he asked. I could be worse, much worse…but I didn’t hear him ask.”

He put another finger into him, making Lan Xichen grunt.

“You’re right,” Jiang Cheng said. “I still haven’t heard him thank you, either. That’s very rude, Zewu-jun. You’re being selfish.”

Lan Xichen actually whined.

It was a little bit like Su She’s need for discipline, Jiang Cheng thought to himself. It was pleasure through the pain. Lan Xichen, who everyone admired, needed the catharsis of being torn down – he wanted to be pulled off that pedestal he’d been forced up on, wanted to be thrown down into the mud, wanted all control ripped away from him, all decisions made for him rather than by him…he wanted to be used.

Well, Jiang Cheng could use him.

In fact, he thought – no, he was sure that he and Su She could use him better than Jin Guangyao ever had.

“Jin Guangyao loved degrading me,” Jiang Cheng said, pushing Su She back on his heels and climbing on top of Lan Xichen, facing away from him. Balancing on top of him, he took some of the oil and slicked up his fingers, reaching down to prep himself. “He figured out that I liked being praised, and he used it to train me like a dog yearning for a piece of meat – he’d give it to me, but only after I did something for him. Only after I lowered myself and wallowed in the mud for his pleasure.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Lan Xichen’s eyes were fixed upon him, watching him; he looked mesmerized, as if he couldn’t look away no matter what. As if Jiang Cheng was the most important thing in the world to him, in this moment.

Good.

“He had a fondness for humbling people. Humiliating them. One time, he drugged me and sold me to his political enemies as a toy to play with, all to get access to the He clan’s qi-locking technique and an excuse to kill them all that I’d accept, using it to trap me into complicity…I hated every minute of it.” Jiang Cheng rose up, one hand on Su She’s shoulder for balance as Su She, always good at understanding things, used his hands to guide Lan Xichen’s cock into him. “Maybe you would’ve liked it better.”

“I – I – no – ”

“Ironic, really,” Jiang Cheng said. “The one person who would have genuinely enjoyed Jin Guangyao’s taste for degradation – and he respected you too much to give it to you.”

Lan Xichen gasped and tried to buck up, but Jiang Cheng didn’t let him in, moving up with him so that Lan Xichen’s cock remained tantalizingly close, rubbing up against him but not sliding in.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen finally whimpered. “Please…”

“Oh, it’s please, now?” Jiang Cheng turned away and pulled Su She into a kiss, purposefully ignoring Lan Xichen behind him. “What do you think, Su She? Should I give him what he wants?”

Su She kissed him back, taking his time with it – they both did, letting Lan Xichen strain against the ropes and fail, time and time again.

“I don’t see why you should give him what he wants,” Su She finally said, breaking away. “Just take what you want, instead.”

“An excellent idea,” Jiang Cheng said, and put a hand back on Lan Xichen’s stomach to brace himself as he sank down, hissing a little as Lan Xichen’s cock stretched him open.

“He’s big, isn’t he?” Su She said, helping steady him as he adjusted. “The Lan sect tend that way. I wonder if they breed for it, the way they do for beauty…it certainly gives them another reason to be smug.”

“The size only helps so much. They still need to know how to use it,” Jiang Cheng said, moving his hips experimentally. “Use, or be used.”

“I’m sure no one has ever had any complaints,” Su She said. “How could they? Zewu-jun is the number one most desirable young master of the cultivation world. Who doesn’t dream of having him in their bed? Wouldn’t they just be grateful to him for even picking them in the first place? Not that he’d ever take advantage of that, no. Never. He’s too good, too sweet, too gentle –”

“My most sincere thanks to Sect Leader Su for having tied me up properly,” Lan Xichen blurted out. His eyes were wide and his face red, when Jiang Cheng twisted to check on him. He was enthralled. “I request that he be cruel.”

Su She looked almost dumbstruck, as if he hadn’t thought Lan Xichen would really ask for such a thing. He glanced over at Jiang Cheng, who nodded, granting permission.

“Go ahead,” he said, reaching up to rub his knuckles on Su She’s cheek, encouraging. “Give him a taste.”

Su She swallowed, drinking in the praise, and then his face settled into a determined expression and crawled around him until he could lean in close to Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng twisted himself around to face them, feeling like he almost had to brace himself in anticipation, and he could see Lan Xichen doing the same. He wondered where Su She would start – what pain he would inflict, using nothing but words.

“He loved you,” Su She whispered, and Jiang Cheng inhaled sharply. That was so much worse than he had dared to imagine. “He loved you so much. You were his dream lover, his perfect gentleman; you were the moon and stars that filled his night sky. To him, you were free from all wordly dust, unstained by the mortal world…how could he ever bear to lay a hand on you?”

“He did,” Lan Xichen said, voice choked. “He did – he took me to bed – he tied me up –”

“Did you think that was for you?” Su She asked, and the cadence of his voice had turned almost sweet and cloying, pitying, the false kindness used to better showcase the venom; in that moment, he sounded very much like Jin Guangyao at his worst. “Oh, er-ge, don’t be silly! He tied you up for your own good, like a priceless treasure that you have to secure to keep safe. You were his greatest possession, his most precious jewel, and you know it. You’ve always known it. You’ve always known that he would never – ever– hurt – you.”

Lan Xichen stared at him, face blank, for a long moment, echoes of the Guanyin Temple almost tangible in the air around them – and then he crumpled with a strangled sob.

“You can kiss him now,” Jiang Cheng remarked, almost breathless from the sheer cruelty of it. He was never getting on Su She’s bad side, he decided. Not ever. Jin Guangyao’s sharp-bladed tongue had nothing on him. “You did well; you deserve a reward.”

Su She put his hand on both sides of Lan Xichen’s head and lifted him up a little, almost cradling his head in his palms.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he told him. “I’m going to kiss you however I want, in whatever way I want, for as long as I want. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I saw him do it, because I knew he’d never let me. He let me have Jiang Cheng, he let me have him, he made me have them both – he used me to push others down, thinking that I would degrade them with my mere touch…but you? It would never be you. You were too pure for that. Too pure to touch, lest I taint you with my fingerprints, too pure to play with too harshly lest you be damaged. That’s how he saw you.”

He put their foreheads together.

“But now you’re here. You’re here, here now, with us. You’re tied up, and we can do anything we like to you, anything at all, and there is nothing you can do about it…”

He swallowed.

“And nothing he can do about it, either.”

When Su She finally kissed Lan Xichen, swallowing his breath along with the tears that dripped down his face to make his mouth taste of salt, Lan Xichen kissed him back.

They were beautiful.

Su She spent some time just kissing him, his mouth and cheeks and neck, and when he was done he pulled away and looked at Jiang Cheng. “I did well?” he asked, his voice that was a little bit higher than usual, slipping into his own headspace where he was young and helpless and in need of guidance.

“You did,” Jiang Cheng said, giving him the affirmation he longed for. “Did you like your reward?”

Su She nodded.

“I’m glad. You did very well – I could feel him inside of me. He liked it. He liked it so much…tell me, Zewu-jun, what did you even do before? What did Jin Guangyao do with you that you needed so badly that you were willing to fall into bed with us rather than talk, but so insufficient that you barely know how to ask for it?”

Lan Xichen was red-cheeked again, and silent for a long moment, struggling with himself.

“You don’t get a choice here,” Su She told him. “Tell him now, or tell him later, but you’ll tell him what he wants to know.”

“Su She’s right,” Jiang Cheng agreed, and made as if he were going to pull himself off of Lan Xichen.

“No!” Lan Xichen yelped, looking panicked, and only settled down when Jiang Cheng sank back down on him, then promptly started babbling in his relief. “No, no, I’ll – you’re right. He tied me up, but it wasn’t…he kept me still. Still and silent; he used to bind up my mouth, too, gag me quiet. I liked it because I didn’t have to make any decisions, I just had to lie there and take whatever he gave me, but he never…he knew I wanted him to do more, that I wanted him to be less than perfectly gentle with me, and he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“How cruel,” Jiang Cheng said, and he even meant it.

“I could never understand why. I thought there was something wrong with me for wanting more than just love, for wanting him to be unkind to me, to be rough with me. I felt bad for asking more from him than he wanted to give – I felt guilty, and liked it, and felt bad for liking it. He told me that he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. He told me that he couldn’t be anything other than honest with me, that he couldn’t lie to me about his sincere affections for me, that he didn’t want to lie to me…and he was lying all the while.” Lan Xichen was crying in earnest now. “I thought we were – he loved me, didn’t he? I know he did. But he gave me what you wanted, and gave you what I wanted, and I don’t – I don’t understand – why couldn’t he have just – why did he have to –”

Do all those terrible things.

“He liked what we don’t,” Jiang Cheng said, and Su She nodded in agreement. “He wanted us to want him, but only on his terms. He wanted to remake us just to show that he could. I am the proud true-born son of a Great Sect, so he wanted to push me into the dirt and make a whore out of me; he wanted to turn me into the same thing that had dragged his reputation down, to glory in my humiliation and degradation. Su She had no one and wanted only to be cared for, and instead he turned him into a weapon that lived only for him, a puppet dancing on his string; he took someone who had barely anything and took away all the rest, leaving him with nothing. And you…you, who he so admired…”

“He wanted to admire me,” Lan Xichen whispered, “more than he wanted to love me. He wanted me to be perfect.”

He put even more scorn in that word than Su She had earlier.

“I’m not, though. I’m not. You – you see that, right?” Lan Xichen looked up at them both. “You understand.”

“You’re not perfect,” Jiang Cheng agreed. “You’re just as fucked up as the rest of us.”

“Just as broken as the rest of us,” Su She muttered.

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. He seemed relieved to have it be said. “Yes. I am.”

“You don’t get out of this with just rope,” Jiang Cheng told Lan Xichen, who looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “The mistakes you’ve made, you can’t just make up for them by handing away your right to make decisions. You have to make up for it through your actions.”

Su She barked in laughter, suddenly. “Handing it away,” he said when they both looked at him. “That makes sense. It’s like seclusion, isn’t it? Proper Lan sect seclusion means you do nothing but focus on cultivation, nothing at all – no decisions, no work, no contact with others, nothing. Your only concern in seclusion is yourself, a state of complete self-absorption, completely disregarding the rest of the world…you went into seclusion. You tied yourself up using your sect’s rules and you found it wanting. Is that it?”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, and glanced at Jiang Cheng. “What…what do you want me to do?”

Jiang Cheng ground down against him, making Lan Xichen groan and his cock twitch inside of Jiang Cheng.

“It’ll be a work in progress,” he decided. “But you can start by sucking Su She off.”

Su She looked startled by that, but enthusiasm quickly overcame concern and he was quick to start undoing his clothing. Lan Xichen willingly turned his face towards him and let him feed him his cock; Su She’s groan of pleasure was, Jiang Cheng was sure, driven by relief as mental as it was physical.

“Fuck,” he said, staring down. “Fuck, Jiang Cheng – Jiang Cheng, do you see? The First Jade of Lan is sucking my cock.”

Jiang Cheng had to suppress a smile as he felt Lan Xichen buck up excitedly inside of him. He liked that, too – he liked having his oh-so-perfect reputation being used against him, a compliment turned into an insult by juxtaposition.

“How is he?” he asked. “Any good?”

“…you’re better.”

This time, Jiang Cheng didn’t bother trying to suppress the smile.

“You like that,” he told Lan Xichen, because it was obvious that he did. “You like being used like that – you like being of use but not relied on, a pretty vase that brightens the room but doesn’t support the roof. When you’re in our bed, in these ropes, the only benefit of you being the First Jade of Lan is the pleasure it gives to us. You got that?”

Lan Xichen’s tears were still falling, but when Su She pulled out of his mouth, he nodded in agreement. He seemed grateful.

Jiang Cheng started to increase the speed of his movement, focusing on his own pleasure instead of paying attention to Lan Xichen. “Would you like Su She to fuck you?” he asked him. “He’s very good at it. If you want it, you have to ask nicely.”

“Please,” Lan Xichen said, voice rasping. “Please.”

Su She pet him on the forehead.

“All right,” he said as he crawled back down the bed, sounding delighted. “Since you’ve asked so nicely, I guess I can take pity on you.”

Jiang Cheng finished getting himself off as Su She started fucking Lan Xichen in earnest, taking him through one orgasm – Lan Xichen had clearly been on the edge for a while, exercising that Lan sect self-restraint until he had permission to come inside of Jiang Cheng – and then, once Jiang Cheng had rolled off to lie down next to them on the bed, fucking him all the way through another.

Possibly it was some sort of competitive thing. Jiang Cheng wasn’t exactly going to throw stones.

After, when they’d untied Lan Xichen and gone to have a bath – it turned into even more groping, and eventually Lan Xichen using his mouth on Jiang Cheng while Su She held his hands behind his back, something which pleased all of them – they ended up sitting down in the main room and having an extremely belated dinner.

It felt utterly bizarre, and bizarrely normal.

They talked about current developments in the cultivation world, interesting night-hunts, the newest iteration of the next generation’s ‘most desirable young master’ list…all the usual stuff. Jiang Cheng was offended on Jin Ling’s behalf that his nephew’s position wasn’t higher, Su She kept listing off sordid rumors he’d heard about those who were ranked above him, and Lan Xichen spent most of the time laughing.

“We probably should talk about it,” Jiang Cheng finally said, a little reluctantly. He didn’t really want to, he didn’t think any of them did, but it seemed like something they should do.

“Do we have to?” Su She wanted to know. “Can’t we just go back to bed every time we have an issue?”

“I have a high opinion of my stamina,” Lan Xichen said dryly, “but not that high.”

Su She sniggered.

“I have a better question,” Jiang Cheng said, twisting to look at Lan Xichen. “How did you even figure out that Su She was here? What was that sword?”

“It was mine,” Su She said. “From – long ago. I thought it was lost for good.”

“It was from when we fought the Waterborne Abyss,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng blinked – he’d almost forgotten about that, but they really had all been there, hadn’t they? All three of them. He could even recall Su She having tried to use his sword to strike at the creature, following Lan Wangji’s example, and losing it in the water. “Some enterprising young disciples found it and brought it back. I’d assigned myself the task of sorting through potentially dangerous objects, as it was something I could do while in seclusion; it’s a task that requires a great deal of precision and power, so there aren’t many other people in the sect that can do it. It was just something to do, but then I saw the sword and realized that there was still spiritual energy left in it – living energy – well, I realized that that had to mean that Su She must still be alive…I can’t believe you managed to conceal your survival for this long.”

“Jiang Cheng took my sect into his protection,” Su She explained. “We’re officially a subsidiary sect of Yunmeng Jiang now, instead of Lanling Jin.”

“Jin Ling even thanked me for taking the problem off his hands,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Xichen laughed again. “Don’t think I’m not going to take advantage, Zewu-jun! Just because you’ve been in my bed doesn’t give you any special privileges, politically speaking.”

“Maybe I just need to be there long enough,” Lan Xichen said, inclining his head towards Su She with a smirk that faded a few moments later. “Actually…we never discussed…”

“You’re joking, right?” Su She snorted. “We’re not kicking you out! We know a good thing when we see one…uh, I mean – right, Jiang Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at both of them, even though he couldn’t exactly throw stone when it came to insecurities. “You’re welcome to stick around,” he told Lan Xichen, who looked incredibly relieved. “I wouldn’t mind trying some of that again, and maybe you could join in on some of what we like.”

Su She would probably enjoy having someone from the Lan sect finally treat him with the care he deserved, not that he’d ever admit to wanting something like that.

As for Jiang Cheng…well, he had his own reasons to be interested in it all, and he wasn’t interested in exploring all of them just now. Maybe later.

Besides, Lan Xichen would probably really enjoy watching. Maybe they could even tie him up and force him to watch – watch, and not participate…yes, that sounded like something they’d all enjoy.

“We generally start out the night together, drowsing, then return to sleep in our own beds for the night – too many nightmares to sleep together all night,” he told Lan Xichen, who nodded in understanding. “Would you like a room of your own as well? You can retire there now, or join us first, as you like.”

“I think I’d like to join you for the start,” Lan Xichen said. “And then some privacy wouldn’t be amiss, I agree. Not least of all because I suspect that I wake up earlier than either of you.”

“When did you officially leave seclusion?” Su She asked. “I feel like I would have heard an announcement about that, even hidden away as I am. Or at least rumors!”

“No, I –” Lan Xichen hesitated. “I just came here.”

“You didn’t leave seclusion properly?!” Su She exclaimed, and Lan Xichen winced.

Jiang Cheng looked between the two of them, mystified. “Isn’t leaving seclusion just…going outside?” he asked, feeling as though he were missing something. “I mean, by virtue of reengaging with the world, he’s no longer secluded. What more does there need to be?”

They both gave him scathing looks, then looked at each other with some sort of mutual ‘what does he know’, each of them shaking their heads at his ignorance like proper scandalized Lans, and that was when Jiang Cheng realized that the thing the three of them were building was going to actually find a way to work.

He started laughing, and refused to explain to either of them, no matter how much they asked.

Despite supposedly needing to return to the Cloud Recesses to leave his seclusion ‘properly’, Lan Xichen ended up hanging around at the Lotus Pier for nearly a month, cultivating alongside the rest of them and helping Su She refine his sword skills further. It was a bit of a sore point for both of them for any number of reasons, reasons in which both the Lan sect and Jin Guangyao featured heavily, but, as Jiang Cheng pointed out, the three of them wouldn’t be where they were if they didn’t like pressing on their sore spots. Each one of them could have tried to move on with their lives at some point, tried to resume the more normal life that was expected from them, but they didn’t – and they didn’t want to, either.

They spent a great deal of time in bed together. A great deal.

Lan Xichen’s stamina was, as he’d boasted, rather extraordinary, and whatever his issues about it, he was an exceptionally capable person, able to perform well no matter what he put his mind to. If what he put his mind to happened to be pleasure, well…

(Jiang Cheng made a point of not thinking about Wei Wuxian’s sex life in any way shape or form, ever, but he did have the passing thought that if the Second Jade of Lan was anything like the First, Wei Wuxian was to be commended for his excellent choice in partners, and also his recuperative abilities.)

Jiang Cheng eventually let Lan Xichen see his part of the game, dressing himself up in the fine clothing – it was all fine silks and delicate embroidery for him now, no garish fabric that rubbed rashes onto his skin – and displaying himself for the admiration of his lovers, and he even let them both fuck him at the same time, something he’d once sworn never to let anyone do after that first incident with the three sect leaders that had hurt him. It didn’t feel anything the same as that, with both Lan Xichen and Su She competing with each other to see who could flatter him the most, each of them wholly submissive to his desires, giving him the power and control that he’d lost back then. It was good.

It was all good, really.

Good enough that they put down their guard, he supposed, because he’d just allowed Lan Xichen to feed him something at one of their private breakfasts when Jin Ling walked through the door, shouting, “Jiujiu, I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about where – about where –”

He stopped, staring.

Lan Xichen coughed gently and put down his bowl.

“I guess you do know where Sect Leader Lan went,” Jin Ling said blankly.

“Obviously,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you were far too busy in Jinlin Tower to come visit until autumn, no exceptions.”

“Well, I made an exception, didn’t I? A missing sect leader takes priority! Especially when my friends ask me personally for some help.” Jin Ling crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking Jiang Cheng’s posture. “Don’t think you’re going to distract me! I know what I just saw between you two!”

“You little brat, what’s that supposed to mean –”

“Maybe I should go,” Lan Xichen said.

“You should not,” Jiang Cheng snapped at him, then turned back to Jin Ling, who was smirking at him in an exceptionally irritating manner. “Listen here, if you think you’re too old for me to break your legs –”

“Who’s breaking what?” Su She asked, coming out of the back room with a yawn he hid behind one sleeve. He’d been sleeping in late, since it’d been his turn as the target of the game the night before; they’d made him cry, and he always needed to sleep for an extra long time after that. He’d been drawn over by the yelling, no doubt, attracted by the suggestion of gossip like a fly to honey. “I couldn’t hear…”

He stopped.

Jin Ling stopped.

They stared at each other.

“…Sect Leader Su?” Jin Ling asked, voice strangled.

His eyes were going up and down Su She, and they probably weren’t missing the fairly obvious signs, like the fact that he’d emerged from Jiang Cheng’s private rooms wearing just his inner robe. Or the fact that the robe was a bit loose, showing a fairly impressive set of bite marks going down his neck toward his scarred torso, which he no longer bothered to bandage up in shame.

Bite marks in two separate sizes, too.

“Well, shit,” Jiang Cheng said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “A-Ling…”

“Are you kidding me?!” Jin Ling howled. “Jiujiu!”

“We had this conversation! You said I was entitled to any coping method I pleased!”

“One! One coping mechanism! Not two – and certainly no one who’s supposed to be dead!”

“You never specified any of that,” Jiang Cheng said with dignity. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to hear about it or deal with anything –”

“This is not what I meant and you know it!”

“Maybe I should go,” Lan Xichen said again, and Su She nodded furiously in agreement. “Why don’t you two talk this out? We’ll be…somewhere else.”

“Cowards, both of you!”

“Happily admitted,” Lan Xichen said, linking arms with Su She and walking out. “Good luck, Sect Leader Jiang.”

Jiang Cheng made a rude gesture in their direction, feeling entitled. He couldn’t believe they were leaving him here!

Admittedly, leaving him to face the wrath of his judgmental nephew wasn’t exactly the same as leaving him in a state of deadly peril or anything, but still…

He turned to look at Jin Ling.

“I hope you know,” Jin Ling said, glaring, “that I’m very happy for you, I'm overjoyed that you had the chance to find happiness no matter where and with whom, and also that I would never do anything to take any of that away from you."

Jiang Cheng blinked. That - didn't sound so bad?

"But I'm still going to tell Senior Wei about this. All of this.”

...fine, Jiang Cheng probably deserved that. And it would probably serve a good excuse for him and Wei Wuxian to start talking again - really talking, the way they hadn't since Wei Wuxian's return - and that would be a good thing, too.

But Jiang Cheng wasn't about to let Jin Ling get away that easily.

"And I'm going to tell him about you invading my privacy without knocking," he said. "Right after I break your legs!"

[adamwatchesmovies]

Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters (2013)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

The Percy Jackson series got off to a wobbly start but a sequel had every opportunity to expand on what worked and ditch the rest. Now that we’d gotten over all the introductions, we’d be able to dig in properly. Maybe we could explore a more complicated story, get to know the characters better and see them grow the way the heroes in the Harry Potter series did with each subsequent chapter. Unfortunately, your hopes for Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters are dashed away by Marc Guggenheim's terrible screenplay. By the time it gets to a conclusion that promises “we’ve got even more coming in the third one!” you want to tell it not to bother.

Set some time after the events of the first movie, Percy Jackson (Logan Lerman) is the son of Poseidon, a demi-god who trains at Camp Half-Blood with the sons and daughters of the Greek Pantheon. His best friends are Grover (Brandon T. Jackson), a satyr, and Annabeth (Alexandra Daddario), the daughter of Athena. When the magical tree that protects the camp from attacks begins to die, the trio chooses to defy their elders’ orders and go on a quest to save it. To do so, they must travel to the Sea of Monsters and recover the Golden Fleece. Tagging along is Percy’s newly-discovered half-brother, a cyclops named Tyson (Douglas Smith). While Percy wonders if he’s up to the task or simply a one-quest wonder, the cyclops’ presence worries Annabeth.

The problems are immediately recognizable. Percy worries he’s not the hero of legend because he’s only saved the world once? How can anyone relate to his “woe is me” attitude? Similarly, Annabeth not trusting Tyson just doesn’t feel right. It’s pretty obvious her aversion to the one-eyed dummy stems from some past traumatic experience but the film fails to make us understand why she’s all secretive about it. We see cyclopses act villainous but those are big, adult ones that tower over our heroes. Will Tyson even grow up to be that size? He seems too stupid to pose any threat. She simply comes off as racist.

It begins on the wrong foot and from there, things don’t get much better. We learn of a prophecy. We're told a child of the three elder gods will either save Olympus, or destroy it (what’s the alternative?) while battling with Luke Castellan (Jake Abel), the villainous son of Hermes that served as the antagonist of the previous film. I could’ve sworn he was dead, but sure. Now I know what you’re thinking. Hmm. What a coincidence. Didn't we just meet a new son of Poseidon mere moments ago? I won’t say too much but let's put it this way. This is a baaaad screenplay that makes obvious mistakes. Tyson’s part in this story is one of them.

As our heroes travel outside of Camp Half-Blood, they obviously have to travel inconspicuously among Muggles, which means they have to disguise Tyson using a magic potion… that Annabeth brought along with her for no reason? Their means of travel is a discount-version of the Night Bus from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and the price of admission is a torrent of horrible jokes the film thinks are really funny. You tolerate them, always reminding yourself of that titular Sea of Monsters. "Once we get there, things will turn around." I’ve got some bad news for you. There aren’t a whole lot of monsters in this movie and when we encounter them, they’re kraken-sized disappointments. Every confrontation between the heroes and the villains feels like a piece of cake. At least the special effects are pretty good but this whole adventure feels like it’s missing something.

Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters is nothing more than a knockoff of the Harry Potter films. Whether this is the case with the books as well I can’t tell but if it was implied with the last film, it’s cripplingly obvious here. Percy Jackson 2 puts all of its weight on familiar tropes and plot threads like its left leg’s just been chopped off. It can’t even manage to do that right. Numerous plot threads and characters are introduced and given no purpose. This film's intended audience is too smart to fall for such a lacklustre sequel. (February 14, 2020)

[mcbitchtits]

and now it’s time for silly songs with larry minnesota cuke, the part of your dash where i keep talking about indiana jones, forever.

current state of the view count:

here be spoilers. i might say i’d stop tagging after we cross the month threshold but tbh the way i keep writing novel-length nonsense it will probably just stay under a cut regardless

i know we got the wilhelm and the milennium falcon/plane engine noise (can’t remember where, on the latter) but i avidly watched the credits last time and ben burtt was not involved in this one. dunno how much of this is lucasfilm restructuring under disney or them handing it over to a mostly fully new team (like new costumers being mostly disconnected from the old ones), but it’s a little sad to see. it’s not like he’s retired. (I mean, maybe he was overbooked or didn’t want to work on it, but still!) (i may be the singular person out here regularly making raiders foley art jokes around the internet, so, you know, forgive me on my frustration with this point.)

what do you think happened to that poor italian pilot after everything? are they long-distance friends now, a la sallah or presumably renaldo, etc? (which, by the way, I can’t remember if I ever speculated about it on here, but I was hoping we’d meet up with one of Young Indy’s FFL friends in Morocco. I was clearly wrong about that.) or do you just go back to your italian pilot life trying not to think about how you went 2200 years into the past? i mean, shit gets weird with pilots. so it’s not like he’d be an odd man out just ranting paranoically about watching out for dangerous cloud formations at altitude. (and when i say “shit gets weird with pilots”, i also mean, like, it’s a personality thing. SO.) (i mean...)

been trying to pay more attention to the score on subsequent viewings because it hits so differently for me. I think, other than Helena’s Theme, that it just uses older cues a lot more? which, arguaby, it’s not like the past sequels haven’t done that, but much like my script complaints it feels like it’s Oops! All References. which I did notice— pretty sure when the bomb drops in the intro, it’s the ants swarming cue from Crystal Skull. (which is kind of an interesting comparison, musically, thematically!)

on the flip side, I was dinking around with Helena’s Theme on the keyboard— I’m fairly but not 100% certain it’s just the Raiders March notes rearranged. which is sweet, and I like that it went someplace different musically, but also it’s interesting to note how that’s such a musical diversion from John Williams’ other work. Star Wars intertwines themes a lot, but so has Indiana Jones; notably with Mutt’s theme in Crystal Skull but iirc also with Henry Sr in Last Crusade? now i’m second guessing myself. ANYWAY. Williams does it a lot, frequently in little ways that are just a bar or two or four, so it’s notable to me that Helena’s doesn’t.

which is fine; it’s a good theme. on the other hand, I feel like that reinforces again my structural complaints with Dial of Destiny, in that things just seem tacked on together in a pile and don’t really mesh; and moreover, that we frequently are given Helena’s Theme when we want to hear the Raiders March. intertwining them as countermelodies or harmonized or whatever would have given us both. and 1) it’s interesting that they chose only to give us Helena and not Indy, musically, and 2) this echoes the structure of not actually actively resolving (or, uh, even really addressing forthrightly) their character arcs/conflict!

on my last viewing i went to see it in this theater that used to be an indie/art theater and got bankrupted by covid and resold, and it was very nice internally but i spent the whole movie wondering what the fuck kind of weird vignetting was going on with the film/lenses. finally made it to the underwater scenes and it was just dark as shit, so I suspect, looking back, it was just that the projector had bulb issues, which is frustrating on its own but even moreso as a purportedly indie/art theater. (also i got a trailer for that theater camp movie this time, which is a hilarious pre-roll choice? lol)

i cannot stop thinking about the whole Science But Also We’re Going To Nod Vaguely To Athena And Put Moons On Shit design premise. i get the moons if you’re trying to make everyone remember that the dial is a celestial body calendar calculator (which it was!) but WHY JUST THE MOON. WHY EVEN BOTHER PUTTING ATHENA IN THERE. if it’s SCIENCE then put THE MOON AND THE STARS AND THE PLANETS. if it’s MYTHOLOGY then PUT IN ARTEMIS AND APOLLO/ETC. AND IF IT’S ABOUT TIME THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN ME KRONOS AND THE TITANS GOD DAMNIT

/rant

anyway. lazy production design (and/or writing/plot choice if it was them) in my opinion.

BUT NO WHAT’S THIS IT’S MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE GRAPHIKOS

I think they melted it... digitally? The fire looks digital, and the melted wax looks digital, and there’s a notable texture difference from the shot of the disc in the melted wax vs. the subsequent shot of Indy pulling the disc out. So I’m very curious to know if it was actually digital or practical. Generally, yes, safer for fire. My preference obviously as a Raiders/etc fan specifically is that it should have been practical to the extent they could have. And of course we can argue maybe the shot difference is just waiting for the wax to cool enough to pick it out the disc safely, but, eh. idk. it didn’t feel tactile, you know? That’s part of what these movies are about.

(I mean, likely, lighting some 151 or whatever on a Wide Candle would probably not burn sufficiently long to melt it? But COME ON, THE POWER OF EDITING, I BELIEVE IN YOU) (also perhaps i will try lighting one of my junk candles on fire later with the power of rum. just for experimental purposes. SCIENCE, YAKNOW)

side note, historically, i want to say a wax tablet like that would have had a wood frame? also, i don’t know what kind of wax they would have made it out of. i could easily go research this, so i guess that’s going on my list next.

So the big thing I keep chewing on is the contrast-not-contrast of Voller and Indy, and what the fuck the plot was actually trying to say. (and, frankly, as I have mentioned, I keep coming up with ????? because I think they didn’t have a good thesis and thus the structure floundered and the point is kind of lost, aside from the broad strokes of what we already “know” about Indy, both the person and the character.) Voller’s Mediterranean look is interesting to be because it seems like a pallette-swap of Indy. Light toned fedora, light toned jacket, slacks and a shoulder bag, all still in natural, earth tones, but not dark browns. To me this is a more interesting contrast than is happening almost anywhere else, because it’s reminiscent of Belloq’s pallette (usually whites and creams, both with pith helmet and later a fedora) and also Panama Hat’s (love those serial flick names). Belloq and Indy are explicitly very close to the same, “rational” archaeologists in pursuit of some academic fame or notoriety, and also a little bit in the realms of questionable ethics. (Until it turns out, of course, that Belloq would sell his soul to the Nazis, and Indy wouldn’t, though let’s not get into the depths of that examination here.) Voller also consistently sees Indy as a comrade-in-arms, the rational scientists whose pure pursuit of truth (and their own goals) is above all else.

And, of course, in the end, we see how that plays out more explicitly, Voller in the plane says “I can’t stay here,” while moments later Indy begs to be allowed to; “let me stay.”

Of course Indy would never be a Nazi so it’s necessary both structurally (and, uh, because otherwise this would be a literal disaster of a movie) for them to be counterpoints. But while this holds in the production design and the general basic structure, again, I think they really lost the plot in the nuances.

Indy is a man of science. Even all the while he’s come to appreciate (in past adventures) the existence of some mysticism. This movie, so much thematically, is about Science (Archimedes and the antikythera) and Indy being a scientist and also Voller being a scientist. It’s also as much about belief; Indy in Science AND ALSO His Marriage, and Voller in Science. But, structurally, it keeps trying to pit Science against everything else; this in part is why the “dial” is the least interesting macguffin we’ve seen so far— it’s not really resonant to the story. (Mostly this failure belongs, as I’ve said, to the lack of character arc that should be underlying everything.)

Indy insists on being a scientist, despite the fact that he’s also willing to write off everything he’s seen as “how hard you believe in it”. Is that not worth examining, as a central thesis of the series?! Why does it get such a cop-out line?! (Again, because I think they didn’t know what they wanted to say, so they waffled on everything, and instead you get a hemming and hawing script without resolution.)

As a scientist, at the very least, I think he would be more intrigued by everything that has happened to him. Scientists love when things yield unexpected results, because that’s something new to explore.

Which, in that same vein, I can’t buy that he wouldn’t think the moon landing or space exploration was interesting. I can’t buy that he’d feel “replaced”— obviously, this is very much an angle on heroism and culture that is used by nazis and other cultural supremacists— but Indy is a guy who wants to learn, to teach, to engage with the world, to go on adventures. (If he’s jealous, show us that?)

And again, again, again, one can certainly argue that this is all specifically not him, not himself, because of the depression of losing Mutt and his marriage; that’s fine, but I think the script does a shit job of establishing that or doing anything with it.

And if Indy feels “replaced” (which, again, this thing they kept telling us in the promo material I don’t think was borne out well in the actual text!), and he’s longing for some lost era of himself (except, again, that he pushes everyone away and continues to claim “this isn’t an adventure”), what the fuck is the actual text of the movie structurally trying to say by bringing him “back” at the end? If he’s not actually a relic of the past (uh, literally and figuratively), and we still need heroes of his type today, why do we not spend more time and finesse with that character arc??????? You cannot posit this as your central thesis and then nearly forget about it until the last five minutes. I mean, you can, I guess. They maybe did. And it sucks all the more for it.

If Voller’s obsession with science is what gets him stuck as a literal and figural relic, and Indy gets to look to the future to continue to be a hero and be needed in the world around him, why do we spend so much time valorizing the antikythera as a scientific object instead of a more mystic one, if Indy needs Belief and Awe and The Power of Friendship and The Power of Punching Nazis and so do we?! Again, and I know I’ve said this a billion times already, but WHY DO HELENA AND INDY NEVER HAVE THAT MOMENT OF RESOLUTION??? Helena needs to realize it too! Indy needs to stop being so cynical and see what he already knows!

I just. urgh. like I said. it’s hard to write about with clarity because I think they lost it themselves. And, more objectively, the script is narratively fighting itself on these themes in part because “making the antikythera scientific and not very mystic” is a reaction to Crystal Skull more than it is a reflection on the rest of the series or letting it stand on its own merits. And, again, I think that not only creates a story that is at odds with itself constantly and messy as a result, but it also does no service to Raiders as a story nor the other entries in the series, nor to Indiana Jones as a concept or a franchise. (And, most notably, it makes a bad “finale” entry!)

I’ll probably have more to say on this later, and, you know, eternally, because every time I sit down to write out what I’m trying to say I end up saying something completely else so I’m just over here piling up disjointed comments on top of disjointed comments.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Support System

A sequel piece to Medicated (I would suggest reading that first)

Word Count: 1572

Rating: Gen

Paring: platonic DLAMPR

Warnings: talk of anxiety disorders and anxiety medication, oh and Remus falls down the stairs on purpose

No angst, only fluff.

Stop using Virgil angst to demonize anxiety medication (or any medication) 2k22

~~~START~~~

Virgil had been distant recently. Patton couldn’t blame him, of course, Thomas starting on anxiety meds must have been hard on him; but that was all the more reason to reach out, to make sure his kiddo knew that he — that everyone — was here for him.

Patton knocked on Virgil’s door just after lunch — Virgil had declined coming to breakfast and lunch when Patton had tried earlier, but he was hopeful this time. After a minute without a reply, he knocked again. He was about to knock a third time when the door opened a couple of inches. Virgil peered out through the opening.

“Hi kiddo!” Patton greeted brightly; this was the first time Virgil had opened the door today, it was a good sign.

“Hey, Pat,” Virgil responded, his eyes flickering searchingly around both Patton and the hallway. Patton would be worried, but Virgil actually looked well rested — maybe the anxiety meds were finally kicking in. “Did you want something?”

“I wanted to remind you about movie night tonight! And, if you’d like to, Logan and I were about to start on a puzzle and we’d love for you to join us.”

Virgil hesitated. “Um, maybe. Uh, Patton?” He asked, visibly amping himself up for whatever he was about to ask. “What, um, how…”

Patton waited patiently for Virgil to collect his thoughts. He could wait as long as his dark strange son needed — besides, Logan could start the puzzle without him.

“You’re allergic to cats?” Virgil finally managed.

Patton titled his head. That wasn’t exactly the question he’d been expecting — and he suspected it wasn’t even the one Virgil meant to ask.

“I am,” he confirmed, waiting for Virgil to ask the rest.

“How badly? Like, could you, um, does it hurt?”

“Oh, well it wouldn’t kill me or anything, but my eyes get all red and itchy, and my throat gets itchy and I start coughing, and my nose gets runny,” Patton thought for a moment before adding “and my skin itches wherever they touch me.”

“Oh,” Virgil didn’t seem to like that answer, shrinking in on himself slightly.

“Why do you ask?”

“Um…” Virgil knelt down and grabbed something off the floor that Patton couldn’t make out before he was straightening up and opening the door wider. He held up a black mass, keeping it a safe distance from Patton.

Patton stared at the mass. Wide green eyes stared back.

The eyes blinked.

“Is that… a kitty!” Patton squealed, using all his self-control to keep from jumping up and down or making any other movements that might be startling to the small animal.

“Mew,” the cat responded, seemingly content to be held out like Simba.

“Yeah,” Virgil answered, bringing the cat back to hold it against his chest. “This is Prozzy, she, uh, I think she came from the meds.”

“Really? Hello, Prozzy,” Patton whispered, reaching his hand out for the cat to sniff, once she headbutted it, he started scratching at her ears. “Are you here to help Virgil with his anxiety?”

“Pat!” Virgil hissed urgently. “Your allergies!”

“Aww, I’ll be okay, kiddo. Besides, she feels different — not so itchy.” It was true, Prozzy was soft, and the only tingling sensation in his fingers came from her steady purrs. “So, I take it that the meds are working?”

“Yeah,” Virgil smiled that soft, somewhat dopey smile that he only ever got when he was really happy.

“I’m glad. Would you like to puzzle with me and Logan? You can bring Prozzy.”

“Sure.”

Logan was in the middle of sorting the puzzle pieces into piles (edges, blues, greens, reds, visible patterns, whites, etc.) when Patton entered the common room with Virgil. He was relieved that Patton had managed to get Virgil to come out of his room as Logan wanted to monitor his behavior — after all, if the meds didn’t seem to be helping Virgil, then Thomas might want to speak to his therapist about changing either the dosage or the prescription — he didn’t look up from his task, though; he was almost done.

What really caught his attention was something batting at his shoelaces beneath the table. He tore his attention away from his task and peered under the table curiously.

He found a small black cat using his shoelaces as a toy.

“That’s Prozzy,” Virgil explained before he could ask. “She chases away the bad thoughts.”

“Ah,” Logan responded. It wasn’t quite a full answer, but it did explain who the cat belonged to. “She is attacking my shoelaces.”

“Your shoelaces have bad vibes,” Virgil answered matter-of-factly.

Logan blinked. ‘Vibes’? He was pretty sure he had a vocab card for that. He pulled the stack of cards out of his pocket as Virgil and Patton both took seats at the table, Prozzy got bored of Logan shoes and jumped into Virgil’s lap instead.

Ah, here it is. ‘Vibes • /vībz/ • informal • : a distinctive feeling or quality capable of being sensed’. My shoelaces have a bad feeling? Wait, I think I have a vocab card for that too.

“Thank you, I stole them from the President,” Logan finally responded, holding up the second vocab card to punctuate his point.

Virgil let out a snort — which he didn’t think was the appropriate reaction, but he could be wrong — while Patton let out a horrified gasp.

“Logan!” He scolded in full morality-dad-mode. “Why would you steal Joe Biden’s shoelaces?”

Logan blinked a second time and glanced at the card. “I may be mistaken,” he said slowly. “But I believe that the intention is that I stole shoelaces from Barack Obama, though I am not entirely certain, nor do I know why I would want to imply that I did such a thing when I did not.”

Virgil was having a full-blown giggle fit by now, and while Logan still wasn’t quite sure why, he was relieved that Virgil’s demeanor seemed to be positive. Hopefully the medication was doing its job in helping both Thomas and Virgil maintain a calmer, healthier state of mind.

They managed to finish a good 2/3rds of the puzzle by the time the others began trickling in for dinner.

Remus entered first, falling purposefully down the stairs in a way that likely would have caused death if a real person had done it. He hopped up from the prone position he’d landed in and froze, his eyes fixated on the Prozzy.

“KITTY!” He shrieked loudly, causing Patton, Virgil, and the cat to jump. He took a running start before falling to his knees and sliding the rest of the way to Virgil’s chair. “Can I pet her?”

Virgil, who’d taken the more defensive position of standing on his chair and holding Prozzy close to his chest out of Remus’s reach, thought for a moment.

“Okay,” he decided, carefully lowering himself and the cat back into the chair. “But you have to promise not to hurt her!”

“I won’t,” Remus promised seriously before he reached out to gently pat the kitty’s head. “Hello, pretty. Are you a good kitty kitty? Cutie kitty kitty.”

Prozzy began to purr and the Duke’s tentacles appeared out of excitement. He wrapped them around the table and chair legs to keep them from being too unruly. He even wrapped one around Virgil’s leg by accident, but for once, the Anxious Side didn’t seem to mind.

“So soft,” he continued. “I want to bury my face in your fur until I suffocate and die.”

“Please don’t,” Patton whimpered.

“I didn’t hear something about a cat,” Janus drawled, rising up in the doorway to the kitchen. “It definitely sounds like a good idea to have one running about with Patton around.”

“Aww I’m fine kiddo!” Patton smiled. “Medication cats are hyperallergic, apparently.”

“Hypoallergenic,” Logan corrected as his brain caught up with the rest of Patton's words. “Wait, ‘medication cat’?”

“Yeah, I think she’s kinda the manifestation of Thomas’s anxiety meds,” Virgil explained as Janus’s curiosity drove him closer.

“Fascinating. I would not have predicted this, though in hindsight–”

“Your Prince has arrived!” Roman declared, rising up in his usual place by the TV.

“Roman!” Patton greeted.

Remus detached two tentacles from Virgil’s chair, one to wrap around Janus’s leg and one to wrap around Roman’s.

“Leech,” Roman commented lightly, lacking any venom or annoyance.

“As I was saying,” Logan cleared his throat. “In a way, it makes sense that Thomas’s medication would manifest in the Mindpalace as an emotional support animal for Virgil. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.” He added mostly to himself.

“It does?” Virgil asked curiously.

“Of course. There are many ways to treat an anxiety disorder; two of the major treatments that Thomas utilizes are seeking professional help, and taking medication. Neither of these options are viable to Virgil, as one of Thomas’s personified personality traits, so the Mindpalace turned Thomas’s methods into a third one that is easier to conceptualize: an emotional support animal. Prozzy is a visual representation of the effectiveness of Thomas’s treatments.”

“You named your cat after Thomas’s meds?” Roman asked.

“If you’re gonna judge then you’re not gonna get to pet her,” Virgil snipped.

“Noooo!” Roman whined, draping himself over Virgil’s chair to scratch at Prozzy’s ears.

“I’m so glad the meds are helping, kiddo!”

“Yeah,” Virgil smiled. Prozzy placed her front paw on Virgil’s chest and butted her head on the underside of his chin. “Me too.”

~~~END~~~

Shoutout to @cephy-the-squid for suggesting the name Prozzy (short for Prozac) for Virgil’s ESA. I am absolutely going to change the cat’s name every time I use her (speaking of which here’s another one of my fics with Virgil having an ESA, it’s Anxceit)

If you give Virgil an ESA pls tag me I want to see it 🐶💜🐱

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: I’ve decided to make this five parts instead of four. I was originally going to combine this part and the next one, but I feel like it flows better with a bit of separation between them!

Part One

____

Part Two

The rest of our first afternoon together was spent lazing around. Grayson was tired, but continued to refuse his nap so we kept things low key to avoid any exhausted toddler meltdowns. By the time the evening rolled around, I was tired from the stress of the day myself and since I still had to unpack, I went up to my bedroom shortly after we'd tucked Grayson into bed.

I slept a lot better than I thought I would given everything that was on my mind and when I woke up, I could already hear the sounds of breakfast echoing up from the kitchen. Taking a few minutes to let myself wake up properly, I checked my phone and scrolled through social media before getting up, stretching and heading downstairs.

"Good morning," I smiled, finding Chris and Grayson sitting at the island eating some scrambled eggs while Scott leaned against the counter with a cereal bowl in his hands.

"G'morning, Mama!"

Grayson's greeting was said through a mouthful of food and Chris reminded him that wasn't polite before greeting me himself.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," he insisted. "There's some eggs left in the pan or cereal, whatever you can find. Maybe Grayson will even share his apple slices with you if you ask nicely."

Grayson gasped at that suggestion and frantically shook his head.

"No, Daddy!" He protested. "I don't want to share!"

I laughed as he reached over his plate to move the little bowl of sliced fruit closer to his body where he could keep it guarded.

"Not even one slice?" I asked. "But I'm so hungry!"

"Over there!" Grayson giggled, pointing at the counter.

I turned around and saw a few more apples in a bowl, making me smile as I turned back to the boys.

"But they're not nicely sliced like yours," I pointed out. "How can I eat those?"

Grayson shrugged and plucked one of his apples out of his bowl. He looked smug, thinking he'd won, but he was so distracted while he took a bite that he didn't see Chris' hand sneak over until he'd snatched one of the slices and tossed it to me.

"Catch!"

I did as Chris instructed and Grayson's jaw dropped. An indignant huff fell from his lips as he looked between the two of us.

"That's not nice."

Chris laughed, but I bit back a smile and returned his apple.

"You're right, baby," I agreed, kissing the top of your head. "That was mean, but we were just tricking you. You don't have to share your apple."

"Thanks, Mama."

The frown on his face turned back into a grin and I scraped the rest of the eggs that were in the pan on the stove onto a plate before turning back to the boys once I’d pulled a fork from the drawer.

"So, how do you want to work it with things like groceries while I'm here?"

"Just tell me what you want and I'll order it," Chris told me. "They've started doing curbside pick up pretty much everywhere so I was thinking I'd just do that."

"Oh, that's handy, but I meant like money wise. Should I just transfer you my share or do you want to alternate who pays?"

Chris stared at me for a moment as if he was trying to figure out if I was joking before he chuckled.

"I'm not taking any money from you, Whitney."

His voice was firm, but I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"What? Why not? I can't let you pay for everything."

"You're not still working, are you?" Scott asked. "Or is it different since, as a photographer, you're so far away from whoever you're taking pictures of?"

"I'm not working," I admitted. "I think it would be doable if it was, like, family portraits or something like that, but the big photo shoots involve too many people. Everyone cancelled on me last week or delayed my contracts until at least the summer."

"So, don't worry about paying for anything then," Chris shrugged. "It's not like you're going to eat that much, I think I can handle the cost."

He was trying to do a nice thing. He was a very generous person with those that he cared about, but I wasn't going to take advantage of him.

"I have savings, Chris," I insisted. "I'm not completely helpless."

As if sensing a rising tension, Scott put his bowl in the sink and grabbed his coffee mug before turning to Grayson.

"Hey, Gray, let's go see what cartoons we can find."

Grayson nodded eagerly and Chris helped him down from the tall stool so he could follow Scott out of the room, taking his little bowl of apples with him.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you're helpless," Chris assured me once they were out of earshot. "But you're tiny, I don't think that buying you a few groceries for the next couple of months will financially cripple me."

I tried to temper my defensiveness before I answered him, reminding myself again that he was trying to be helpful.

"I know that, but I don't feel comfortable living here for that long without contributing," I told him. "You already give me more than you need to every month for Grayson."

It was true. Since our custody agreement was that Grayson spent fifty percent of his time with each of us, he wasn't required to pay me any child support. But he did anyway. It was something we’d argued about on and off over the years because the amount that he gave me was way over the top. I appreciated his generosity and I did use all the money to buy things for Gray, but most of it ended up in a bank account that I'd opened for him because there was no way to spend it all in one month without Grayson becoming the most spoiled child in all of Massachusetts.

"I like to make sure he's taken care of."

"Which I am capable of doing with my own money when he's in my care," I reminded him. "But I don't want to start that whole conversation again. I just want to feel like I'm doing my part while I stay with you."

"And I appreciate that gesture, but it won't be necessary," Chris insisted. "You can clean, you can cook, do anything like that to help out, but I won't accept any money, especially while you're not working."

I sighed as he stood up to put his plate in the dishwasher while I put mine on the counter, too distracted by our conversation to eat. I knew it would be a struggle to get him to agree to take money from me, but I wasn't ready to back down so I thought of a compromise and hoped he would accept.

"How about we drop it for now," I suggested. "But if this thing goes on for more than a couple of weeks, can we talk about it again?"

Chris paused and crossed his arms. I could tell that he wanted to argue, but I was relieved when he agreed.

"Alright," he nodded, hesitating for a moment before adding a stipulation to the deal. "But we're going to talk about your car too before you leave here."

"My car? What about my car?"

"Grayson told me that it's not working properly," Chris admitted. "He said it sounds angry sometimes and that you haven't gotten it checked out yet."

I rolled my eyes, guessing that was one of those 'secrets' that he mentioned.

"It's fine," I assured him. "It made a weird sound one time last week when I tried to start it, but it's still working. I was going to take it in, but then all this virus stuff happened and I didn't have chance."

"You need a new one," Chris informed me. "That one is getting old anyway. I'll take you car shopping when things reopen."

I laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but I could see the annoyance on his face at my reaction.

"You're not buying me a car, Chris. The one I have is perfectly fine and if it's not then I will take myself car shopping, thank you very much."

"Why do you get so defensive when I try to help you?" He asked, his eyes shifting into a glare. "I'm not going to accidentally think that you're in love with me just because you accept a nice gesture from me. I can take a hint, Whitney, I get it."

My jaw dropped and I couldn't hold back a disgruntled scoff at his insane change of topic.

"What are you even talking about? This has nothing to do with that," I argued. "I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if I knew you were going to hold that over me and throw it in my face all the time."

“All the time? This is the first time I’ve mentioned it!”

“Yes, but I’ve not even been here for twenty-fours hours and you’ve already brought it up!”

Perhaps it was my harsh, snappy tone that did it or my very valid criticism of his low blow, but Chris' body language softened.

"I just don't get why you get so worked up when I'm trying to help you..."

"Because I don't need help, Chris," I explained. "I might not be Captain America rich, but I do just fine and I can take care of myself. I can buy my own groceries and if I really needed to, I could buy myself a new car. You throwing money at me for things like that makes me feel like you don't value the success I've had in my career or my ability to manage my finances which is, quite frankly, offensive."

Chris dropped his arms so they were no longer crossed and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly, he'd been getting quite defensive as well and had realized it, whether he would admit it or not. I held my head high, proud of myself for explaining my feelings so well and taking him down a notch, but that feeling disappeared as soon as Chris spoke.

"If you were the richest woman in the world, I would still want to buy you a car," Chris started, looking more nervous than the dismissive, self-assured attitude I was getting moments ago. "I'd still want to buy you anything you could ever need because making you happy makes me happy."

My face fell at his confession and my heart clenched again, knowing what the underlying sentiment behind his statement was. It stung more than any hurtful words could have as the sincerity, the genuine care and appreciation, in his voice was heartbreaking. I regretted not adding a condition to our cohabitation that specified he wasn't allowed to say such nice, guilt inducing things as I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation that was more polite than just bolting out the door. 

Too much time was passing as his words hung between us so, short of any good comeback to his words, I shrugged.

"If you want to make me happy, let me contribute for the groceries."

It was Chris' turn to look shocked now, as he was obviously expecting a more thoughtful response to his rather vulnerable admission, but he pulled himself together quickly and a dry laugh fell from his lips.

"Nice try, Whitney," he smiled, shaking his head. "But that's not going to happen."

Without giving me any more time to argue, he turned on his heels and walked out the door leaving me alone to wallow in my guilt and wonder how much longer I'd be able to keep up my act of nonchalance.

-

There was a weird sense of restlessness in the house that day. Usually, killing a few days at home would be no big deal but, as soon as the stay at home orders came into place that morning, the knowledge that we were now unable to do anything else made it feel slightly more suffocating.

Chris wasn't lying though when he said that he planned to make this lockdown as enjoyable as possible so we managed to keep ourselves entertained as we planned out some of the things we could do. Chris and Scott were compiling a list of old movies they wanted to watch again, I ordered a bunch of puzzles and books (some more child appropriate and some for the adults), Chris dug out an old wiffle ball set he had from when they were kids and Scott organized Chris' video game collection, pulling out all the good ones like their favourite: Mario Kart.

By the end of the day, we were all feeling much more optimistic about how our time at home would go. Especially Grayson. It was finally starting to sink in for him that he got to spend the foreseeable future surrounded by all his favourite people - something that was unfortunately a rarity for him given our situation. He was bouncing off the walls as he threw his ideas into the mix and couldn't wait to get started on all the fun.

The excitement of the day led to another early night for him and I excused myself shortly after, declining the invitation to start practicing my Mario Kart skills.

After our conversation that morning, I was trying to keep a bit of distance from Chris. I wasn't mad and it didn't seem like he had any lasting feelings of annoyance either, but our earlier discussion proved to me that there was still tension and resentment between us. I wanted to let it settle and give him some space so our small disagreement didn't turn into a full-blown argument. Living together after everything we'd been through would be an adjustment period and easing into it would probably be the safest route.

So, I took myself off to my bedroom and lounged in bed watching some new mystery show on Netflix. I started it thinking it would just be a good way to pass a few hours until a reasonable time to go to bed but as usual with Netflix, I got sucked in and before I knew it, it was almost midnight.

I closed my laptop, knowing I needed to get some sleep as Grayson was an early riser, but I noticed the glass of water I'd taken upstairs with me hours ago was empty and my mouth was dry. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, taking the glass to the kitchen to fill it up.

I crept down the stairs, assuming everyone would be in bed already, but I was surprised when I got to the kitchen to see the light on. I poked my head into the room and saw Scott sitting at the little island in the middle of the room, a drink in his hand and a melancholy look on his face.

"Hey," I greeted him, alerting him to my presence. "You're up late..."

"I was just FaceTiming with my boyfriend. He's in LA so it worked with the time difference."

"Boyfriend?" I questioned as I headed over to the sink to fill up my glass. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"It's pretty new," he sighed. "We've only been together about a month now."

"That's so exciting! You didn't want to stay in LA and quarantine with him?"

"No, we thought it was too fresh for us to, like, fully move in together and if I was in LA and not living with him then we wouldn't see each other anyway, so I decided I may as well come here."

"That's really hard," I frowned as I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "I'm sorry that you had to make a decision like that."

"It's alright," he shrugged despite the sad look on his face. "A lot of people have had to make much tougher decisions than that lately."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset anyway."

"I know, but I'll be alright. I'm just glad we've got so many ways to stay in touch." He flashed me a smile and I was glad to see it. Scott was a good guy and one of those people who was usually so positive and upbeat that it was hard to see him feeling down. "What about you? How are you doing with everything?"

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. "Do you mean the deadly virus plaguing the world? Or the fact that I'm in lockdown with the father of my child who I have a fairly complicated history with?"

"Both," Scott chuckled as he sipped his drink of what looked to be whiskey. "But I was more referring to being here in lockdown with Chris."

"It's hard, but I'm doing okay. It's just a weird situation."

"It'll definitely take some time to get used to for both of you," he nodded. "He felt really bad this morning. He told me what you said about how offensive it is when he throws money at you all the time and I totally agree, but I hope you know his heart was in the right place. He tells everyone how talented you are, he would never want to belittle your career."

"I know," I winced. "I overreacted a little bit."

"No, not at all!" Scott assured me. "He needed to hear it. I've been on the receiving end of it too so I know how you felt, but he doesn't realize how it comes off some times. He's just trying to be generous and help the people he loves."

I nodded and I knew that I should just end the conversation there. Tell him that I understood what Chris' intent was and leave it at that. But my heart overpowered my brain and I found myself opening up before I could stop myself.

"I just don't exactly deserve to be on that list," I reminded him. "And I shouldn't take advantage of any feelings he might have for me after the decision that I made."

"You really do deserve to be on that list," he told me with a smile. "He's really in love with you."

"Love might be a bit extreme," I scoffed. "He's made his feelings clear, I know he cares about me, but it's not love."

"He's not made his feelings clear enough then," Scott countered. "Because he's been head over heels in love with you since pretty much the moment he met you."

My mouth went dry as my brain fought to comprehend that claim while all my instincts were telling me that it wasn't true. Scott wouldn't lie to me, he wasn't that kind of person, but he could be exaggerating especially since he had been drinking. There was an honesty in his eyes though, a look that told me he was telling the truth, but I couldn't accept it, it just didn't make sense.

"That's not true," I argued. "He only ever saw me as a friend until that one night and that night was a mistake."

But Scott was confident in what he'd shared and he shook his head.

"He never saw you as just a friend. You were his endgame from day one."

Perhaps it was a delaying tactic, perhaps it was a nervous response or I was subconsciously trying to buy myself some time to make sense of what he was trying to tell me, but a giggle slipped out at Scott's choice of words.

"Endgame? Is that an Avengers joke?"

"It wasn't intentional," he assured me with a laugh, but he was quick to get us back on topic. "But I mean it. We had a conversation just a few weeks after you met and he was talking about you like you hung the moon. He's been enamoured from the start."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was speaking with such confidence, but the words he was saying might as well have been another language. Knowing what I knew about our situation, how things had unfolded between us, how that first night together went down and the aftermath of it, there was no sign that Chris had been in love with me. He cared about me, that much I knew, but to be in love? That didn't add up.

Especially when I'd had those feelings all along as well. Surely, I would have noticed had they been reciprocated.

I'd fallen silent as my brain buzzed, scrambling for any gesture or obvious evidence that I'd missed that might prove Scott's claim, but when he spoke again, I was pulled from my thoughts.

"Do you not feel the same way about him?" He asked. "And there's no judgment here, I can see both sides. I love Chris and I want him to be happy, but I respect what you're trying to do."

I felt my heart rate spike again as my palms grew sweaty in a way that was becoming annoyingly familiar.

I was aware of the importance of this conversation, but I was also aware that I wasn't having it with the right person. If Scott was being honest then Chris must have had his reasons for not sharing the depth of his feelings with me and it felt sneaky and deceitful that I was finding out from someone else. It also felt wrong that the answer to Scott's question was on the tip of my tongue. Chris deserved to know before his brother, but I was tired. Fighting through this mess all by myself was wearing me down and Scott had always been one of those people that compelled you to pour your heart out to him. He was a better listener than most and I needed someone, anyone, to give me some kind of guidance. So the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I do feel the same," I admitted, my eyes firmly locked on the glass of water on the table in front of me as I worried I'd be too anxious to speak if I looked Scott in the eye. "I love him very much."

"Then why are you so scared to give him a chance?" He questioned. "Just because of Grayson?"

I nodded, but even I was starting to doubt my own motivations.

"We work together so well right now, but if we give it a shot and someone ends up getting hurt then we might not be able to put our feelings aside and keep things peaceful."

"But aren't you hurting each other every day that you spend in love with each other, but not together?" He pointed out. "Yet, you manage to put Grayson first through all that pain."

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

It was an excellent point.

We were both hurting from being apart, it was clear from how defensive we got over silly little things like we had that morning. I could only imagine how Chris felt, but it was hard for me to be around him all the time and just keep things friendly when in my heart I wanted more. I ached at the sight of him every time I dropped Grayson off or picked him up, but we still managed to be friendly and polite through that.

"How many of those drinks have you had?” I teased earning a laugh from Scott. “They’ve made you too wise.”

"Not enough," he joked. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"It is true, but it's different," I insisted. "If we were together and broke up, that kind of hurt can come with a lot of anger. Right now, we might be sad or disappointed about the situation, but there's no anger."

"Oh, there was anger," Scott informed me, grimacing slightly. "After Christmas, when he came back from dropping Grayson off at your house there was definitely anger. He slammed doors, stormed around the house, got drunk off his ass and ranted about it for hours. I've never seen him that upset over being turned down before."

My heart sank at that news. I knew that he'd been upset, but I didn't think he'd taken it that badly. I thought he was just a bit sulky, but now my guilt intensified.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "I feel bad enough as it is..."

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Scott assured me, reaching over to rub my back as I forced back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "But it proves that even if one of you ends up heartbroken, you can still put Grayson first because you just did it."

"I didn't, Chris did," I pointed out after clearing my throat. "If it wasn't up to me, if Chris came to his senses and ditched me for some beautiful actress, then I'm not sure that I could be so forgiving."

"Why would he ditch you?"

As promised, there was no judgment in Scott's voice, just genuine curiosity and I shrugged as I answered.

"Because he could have any woman in America."

"Maybe not any woman, let's not get carried away," Scott smirked, his teasing tone making me smile. "But for such a relationship loving guy, don't you think it's interesting that he hasn't been in a serious relationship in about five years?"

That wasn't something I'd put much thought into, but it wasn't the 'gotcha' moment that it seemed like Scott had hoped it was.

"Not really. He's been busy with work the last few years," I pointed out. "And having a baby with me must have complicated his personal life a bit."

"You complicated his personal life the moment he met you," Scott insisted. "That's my point."

He sounded so sure of himself, but the words he was saying were still hard for me to comprehend. I'd always been so confident in my understanding of our relationship and if I was to believe him, it would shatter everything I thought I knew.

"I just don't see why he wouldn't have mentioned this by now..."

"You know how he gets with his anxiety. He's not always the over confident hotshot that people assume he is," Scott reminded me. "But you'll have to talk to him if you want more information than that."

I let out a sigh as I knew he was right.

"There's a lot that we need to talk about," I admitted. "Thank you for this though, Scott, you've given me a lot to think about."

"Anytime," he smiled. "And I completely respect that you're willing to put Grayson first despite whatever feelings you have. You're a wonderful mom and I would be proud to call you my sister-in-law."

I laughed at his outrageous leap from even considering a relationship straight to marriage and shook my head.

"You need to go to bed, Scott," I instructed. "You've clearly had too much to drink tonight."

"I probably have," he agreed. "But I meant everything that I've said. Think about it, okay?"

I nodded as I slid off the stool I was sitting on, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug.

"I'm here for you too, you know that right?" I asked as I stepped back. "If you ever want to talk about your situation or vent and complain about the distance, whatever you need, I'm here."

"Thanks, Whitney," he smiled before dragging himself off his stool as well. "Goodnight."

I returned his smile and mumbled a 'goodnight' of my own before heading back to bed with all the new information that Scott had provided echoing around in my head. While it had been a very informative conversation, I wasn't quite sure whether I came away from it with the clarity I was looking for or just more confusion.

-

Part Three

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7​ @hockeychick10

[bokutoslittlebird]

I’m Sorry

Alpha!Ushijima x Beta!f!reader x Alpha!Oikawa

Warnings: THIS IS A SEQUEL to Regrets, intention of suicide, suicidal thoughts and actions [overdose, cutting, falling], mentions of self harm [overdose and cutting], angst, pregnancy, bonding mention, I did not look up Argentina resident rules

The rain was heavy today.

You felt as if it was the universe’s way of saying it was sorry for you. The ride back to school would be in the pouring rain that matched the gloominess of your heart, only to enter a campus where nobody wanted anything to do with you. His scent was all over you; despite being a Beta, you could feel it. You had been claimed and nobody would dare try and claim Ushijima Wakatoshi’s mate, despite the fact you’re not his mate.

Sobbing did little to ease the ache in your chest, eyes blotched from the constant tears and your nose sniffling as you tried to wipe away snot with your sleeves. Your sleeves, not his sleeves of a jacket you stole. Reading stories of how an Alpha would bestow their mate clothing would always warm your heart, but sitting on a dirty busstop with nobody but the rain beside you, your heart felt cold.

“What are you doing?” Someone asked. Your head snapped up to see a brunet looking down at you, his attire telling you he was dressed to run. Running? In pouring rain? What an idiot. He was gorgeous, though, hair collecting silver droplets that seemed to only accentuate his features. Your eyes trail down to the black collar adorning his neck, hidden beneath the white and blue jacket he wore. He quirked an eyebrow, giving off a small chuckle. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,”

“More like an idiot running in rain. What’s up with that?” You sniffle, rubbing at your raw nose and cursing the timing. An Alpha coming on a claimed Beta alone — words don’t need to be spoken for the other man to know why you’re crying. But instead of running off, he sits next to you. “You’re gonna get me wet, weirdo,”

“Well if I sit too close, I’d get snot on me, so maybe I’d be better keeping my distance, anyways,” he shoots back, barely batting an eye. You just scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Someone seems to have a problem with me. I don’t even know who you are, stranger,” you give off a grin, trying to keep up the light tone.

“Well, you’re wearing a Shiratorizawa jacket and you stink like Ushiwaka, so can you blame me for being a bit of an ass?” He says, grinning. Though you were keeping a light tone, his words quickly reminded you of the position you’re in. Gloomy day, pouring rain, busstop. Looking back to the ground, you sigh heavily.

“Well, at least it’s the most interaction I’ve had all day. Ushijima’s got a stick up his ass and no funny bone in his body, so I suppose if this is my last interaction, it’s better than him,” you off handedly say. The man beside you quirks his eyebrow once more, your words settling into his brain before he’s leaning closer to you. His shadow moves towards you, making you jump back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re pregnant,” he flat out says. Before you can shoot anything back, his eyes get sad as he pulls himself back some more. “You’re going to kill yourself because he abandoned you?”

“How-” you sputter, tears springing to your eyes once more, “how did you-”

“You know if he’s abandoned you, another Alpha can take claim, right? You’re not worthless,”

“Easy for you to say. I’m a Beta with an Alpha’s bond mark. An Alpha that doesn’t even want to talk to me. My family and friends have turned their backs on me because it’s my fault. I wouldn’t expect an Alpha to understand the other party’s feelings,” you say, wiping away the tears. Despite trying to appear strong, your eyes are wet and there’s snot running down your face. “No Alpha wants Ushijima Wakatoshi’s leftovers. Don’t make me laugh,”

“Well, a cute little Beta would look better with a genuine smile then tears in their eyes, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles, rubbing your cheek, but you slap away his hand.

“Stop patronizing me. You sound like a creepy old man. Who even are you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think I had to introduce myself. I’m Oikawa Tōru,” he smiles once more, a genuine smile, as he holds out his hand. “And if there’s someone who hates Ushiwaka more than you, it’s me,”

“[Y/N]. You’re from Seijoh, right?” You shake his hand, although it’s brisk. His nod confirms your suspicions. The captain of the team that never beat Ushijima’s team, but always aimed for the top. Ushijima also mentioned how talented Seijoh’s setter was, but you never expected to be sitting on a busstop next to the man himself. “Well, you’ve gotten my life story and told me you hate Ushijima, so I guess it’s time for you to go back to running in the rain,”

“Nah, I can’t,” he shrugs, but you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue. Eventually, you ask him why. “Well, I can’t leave someone in need alone. If I leave, you’ll still kill yourself. You’re hurting and I can’t just abandon you. I’m not like other Alphas, you know.” You know his reference is to only Ushijima, but it warms your stomach nonetheless, seeing someone actually be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to meet me then. If you hadn’t stopped, we’d both be blissfully unaware of each other’s presence,” you say, letting a sob wrack your body before covering it with a cough. “Guess I’m the weirdo getting sick,”

“Still thinking there’s no other option, huh?”

“Well what do you expect? You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to face my consequences on my own and turned your back on me. There really is no reason for me to stay here, especially if I have to raise a child without a support system. I’m still in high school, what the fuck,” you huff, running your hand through your hair, looking up at the sky, noticing how the rain has eased up and the sky is brighter. “I’ll be out when it comes, but the fact of the matter is I’ll graduate pregnant, who wants to go through that? I’m basically a cheap slut in everybody’s eyes. I just wanted to feel needed by someone I admire and this is what it results in? The more I think about it the more I want to down a bottle of painkillers and never wake up.”

“If nobody is sticking up for you, then maybe they’re not your real friends. Fair weather friends, only there for good tea and sunny days. If there’s nobody there for you, reach out for help,”

“I don’t want to be a burden,”

“People who will help you willingly won’t see it that way. Me sitting here with you isn’t burdening me, and I haven’t turned from you. I know we just met, but I want to help you. There’s a lot to live for and one setback doesn’t deserve to sever that line before you’ve even gotten to the good part. Good people exist, you just need to find them,”

“‘Find them’? I thought I had, so what’s the point in trying to find more, only to be disappointed?”

“[Y/N], was it? I’m right here, you know,” he puts a hand on his chest, a smile on his lips and shining in his eyes. “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I’m still here. Find someone like me,”

“That’s sweet, but I doubt there are multiple Oikawas running around in the rain,” you sigh, looking back up. It’s almost time for the bus, but you have a feeling that if he’s still here, then he won’t let you leave. “Are you gonna sit there until my opinion changes?”

“They don’t change that easily, trust me,” he chuckles, but it lacks the merry behind it. Glancing at him, his eyes are downcast as he runs a thumb over his knee. “But I don’t want to see someone die over one thing. There’s a lot to live for, a lot to strive for, that’s why I keep moving even after all my failures. If someone kills themselves for one thing, something I don’t see as a reason to end, I wonder if it was deeper than what it was on the surface. Was it a quick way to feel numb for a while? Was it an easy solution? Sometimes the easiest path isn’t the right one. Surviving an attempt makes you realize things can change, but what if you didn’t survive? If you regret putting the blade to your skin or stepping off the ledge seconds after you do it or seconds before death? You can’t change it once it’s in motion.”

“I never.. I never thought about it like that,” you mutter, your hands holding each other, fingers twiddling. A brief meeting with a handsome Alpha suddenly put things in perspective. A laugh breaks you from your trance, his mouth behind his hand.

“If I see an opportunity to help, I’ll be there, but the fact is I can’t change your mind. I would like to put things in perspective and give you options, but that’s all I can do. If the reason you’re planning to end it all is because you have no friends, I can help with that. I’ll be your friend when nobody else gives you a chance.”

You mull it over, thinking of your options. In the end, the worst that could happen is you end up back on the bench, in the rain, ready to match to your death. “You know, I was told that if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is,” you mutter, but rifle through your jacket pockets for your phone. “Don’t make me regret second guessing myself, Oikawa Tōru. If you want to be my friend, I’ll take the hand extended to me,”

“Wonderful! And just in the nick of time, the bus is here,” he takes out his own phone, ready to swap numbers. As the bus pulls up to a stop, Oikawa waves at you as he pockets his phone, your contact information all piled inside. You really hope you don’t regret this decision, too.

In the few days that pass, you find yourself wondering how you could have possibly thought bad of Oikawa. He was sweet to you, introducing you to his friends (who knew about your predicament prior), with their promise they’d never turn their back. Iwaizumi was also an Alpha, but the other two were Betas. You did think it to be odd about how they seemed to willingly to help you, stay beside you, despite having no reason to. Their only reason was a promise to you. To Oikawa? Maybe, but you never asked him about it; if you did, he’d just shrug and give you a vague answer.

He promised to show you the light on a dark and gloomy evening, and he kept that promise. As your friends turned their backs on you, scoffing about how your decision will affect you for the rest of your life, Oikawa was there when you needed him the most. He was on standby all hours of the day and night, his phone always on and beside him. When your family turned you away, calling you out on your sudden friendship with another Alpha while carrying a child, they kicked you out and you had nowhere else to go, Oikawa was there. When you felt your world crumbling around you, feeling hopeless and desperate, picking up a secret stash of painkillers, Oikawa was there to talk to you. He didn’t actively take away the pills, but he sat on the other side of the door and talked to you, listened to you. Even his mom was there for you when your family and friends had left you, but Oikawa stood beside you through it all.

Then your world crumbled again.

“I’m planning on moving to Argentina,” he had said. You were looking into colleges to further your education when he had knocked on your door, his old sister’s room, sitting on the bed.

“You’re.. leaving?” You wanted to add to that sentence, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. He’s been with you for so much, you’re not entirely sure you can be independent without him.

“It’s been almost 6 months since you met me. I actually went on that run to decide if I wanted to study abroad in Argentina, but after meeting you, I decided to wait. I’ve been studying the language and keeping up with local volleyball communities, but my dream is over there,” he explains. You click your pen and set it down, ready to ask if you should leave his house, but he continues. “I wanted to know if you’d come with me.”

“Wh- What?”

“I’ve been putting in extra time so we can both move together, get a fresh start,” his face tints as he speaks, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It seems a bit forward, now that I’m actually talking aloud about it. Sorry ‘bout that,” he chuckles, before clearing his throat.

“You want me.. to come with you?” You ask, unsure if you’re hearing correctly. He’s asking you to move to a new country with him, which is exciting! But, the baby.. “He is due soon, you know,”

“5 weeks, if I remember correctly,” he smiles, looking down at the large bump. You run a hand over it, solemnly nodding. “He’d be born in Argentina, our new home, if you come with me,”

“But Ushijima—”

“He’s abandoned you, officially. Your bond, it’s hardly noticeable anymore. The scent, I mean,” he corrects himself. “He’s basically just a sperm donor at this point,”

“This is.. very sudden, you know,”

“I know. And it’s also a very grand way of asking to court you, while also essentially marrying you, but I will say that if you choose to stay here, Iwa-chan will take care of you. He’s going to study in California for some amount of time, but that’s not for another few months. There is Mattsun and Makki, but I’m not too sure-”

“Okay, don’t stress yourself,” you giggle, getting him to stop. “I’ll go with you, but you gotta teach me the language,”

“I’ve been told I’m a great tutor, actually,”

“I believe it. Will the bond go away, or is it just the scent that’s gone?” He raises his brows at that.

“Ah, I guess you never took those classes. The bond is permanent, but another Alpha can lay claim on a mate that has been abandoned. I’d be honored to replace his bond with mine, but I’m sure you’ll need-”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him. He sputters as he processes the words, but then smirks.

“Are you sure? I don’t plan on making mistakes, so you’ll be stuck with me, you know?”

“Tōru, I’ve been ready for a while now. Hope you don’t mind bonding me while I’m pregnant,” your hand once more rubs the large bump, settling on the top.

“It just means I’ll have to wait until it’s my turn to try,” he licks his lips, moving towards the door. The locking sound seals your fate, keeping others from interrupting your moment.

- Years Later

“Koichi, come back here!” you shout, weaving in between the crowds. Aiko is somehow still asleep on your shoulder as you chase your son through the crowd. He’s been dying to meet his favorite uncle for quite some time, so see as he’s the trainer for the Nationals team of Japan, Koichi ran once the match ended. A brief Q&A with the members of the team would happen exactly right after they left the stadium, which he knew because of his father’s position.

You finally come to a stop, grabbing Koichi’s collar as he struggles to get through the crowd. “I told you to not leave me, and what did you do? Uncle Iwa isn’t going to suddenly disappear. He’s been waiting for this day, too, you know?”

“But mama! I told him I’d be the first one!”

“That’s impossible. The paparazzi gets to him first, that’s how it works in Hollywood movies,” you joke, but you pick him up. You’re no professional athlete, but you do stay in shape to take care of two children. As soon as you pick him up, he’s shouting as he sees Iwaizumi, trying to talk to the reporters. He catches Koichi’s waving hand and decides to take a break, going towards where you are as the crowd parts.

“How is the Oikawa family doing? I see Koichi is energetic,” he laughs, taking the boy from your arms.

“Ugh, as always. Don’t know where he gets it from, it’s not like his sister is bursting with energy all day,” you gesture to the child sleeping, despite the loud crowd.

“Well, definitely Oikawa’s kid. He sleeps through anything and so does she, jeez,” he sighs, but you just laugh. A few members of his team come over, excited by the new people.

“Iwa-chan, what’s this? Wife? Your kids?? You have kids???” A man with white and black hair says, giving Koichi a high five.

“Uh, no. They’re actually Oikawa’s wife and kids. I’m the favorite uncle, of course,”

“I wanna be the uncle! ‘Samu is never gonna get married, I need to be an amazing uncle somehow,” a man with platinum blond hair says, but he’s quickly pushed aside as a familiar face comes into view.

A face you didn’t want to see.

“[Y/N], I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ushijima says, tone as flat as ever. Iwaizumi takes on a forced smile as yours drops, a frown etched on.

“Didn’t expect to see you here either. Actually, ever again,”

“Oh?” The owlish man says, eyebrows quirked up as his eyes glance between the two of you.

“I see you moved on. I’m glad to see that,”

“No thanks to you,” the venom in your voice has Koichi turning to him, looking at the larger man with large eyes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the resemblance. He’s got the same hair color and eyes as the man in front of you, taking hardly any features from you. Not to mention, Koichi is showing signs of presenting as an Alpha.

“Darling, that’s where you were!” Oikawa shouts from over the crowd, them parting so he can mingle with the group around you. “I was wondering where my personal cheerleaders went to,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His eyes meet Ushijima’s and despite being unable to smell the tension, you can feel it. Reporters and guests alike back away as the overwhelming tension of two Alphas clash.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says. Oikawa just tilts his head, looking over his opponent.

“I thought you’d look more defeated after I wiped the court with your ass, but I’m more disappointed in that. Emotionless as ever, aren’t you, Ushiwaka?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, then looks to you. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you, [Y/N],”

“Trust me, I don’t want to hear it. You’re too late, Wakatoshi. You’re much too late,” you say, before nodding at Iwaizumi. “I’m leaving,”

Despite turning to leave, Oikawa taking Koichi away from his uncle and new “uncles”, despite being in the middle of a loud crowd, you can hear him. It’s quiet, almost as if he knows the words are weightless, holding nothing after years of his abandonment. Despite Oikawa’s bond pulsing, your heart still yearns for the other man, what he could have given you and what he did to you. Despite all this, you’ve fantasized about hearing those words, yet they do nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took forever to publish but I hope it was worth the wait! I didn’t keep track of time while writing this, so if something seems wrong just ignore it. I might come back and fix it later but probably not lol ; Argentina residency rules and citizenship requirements were not consulted for this, seeing as it only took up like one sentence, but I might change it if I look more into it of course.

[foxymoxynoona]

A Beautiful Beyond

NOTE: This is a short story sequel to A Sea of Indigo, which you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881670/chapters/62890984

Summary: Years have passed since Jungkook came to Marigold, years since you kissed beneath the stars and confessed your love and bound yourself together. But now a new challenger has entered the ring, one which threatens to unbalance everything: your first baby! Good luck, kids.

Pitbull Hybrid Jeon Jungkook x Human Reader(Y/N) Words: 14,339

CW: not much, childbirth, domestic fluff, pregnancy, new parents, reference to prior miscarriage

Read on ao3 or below cut: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33741412

Jungkook sat in a scratchy chair in the far corner of the ballroom, next to a wide round table with his things on it. Correction, your things. Your conference bag, packed to the brim with pamphlets, samples of lotions and special shampoos and bandages and protein snacks, branded pens and water bottles and lollipops. Your messenger bag which he had carried all day, overstuffed with your own journals, loose notes, two books, phone charger, ginger candies, comfier flat shoes, socks, and enough snacks to constitute two meals, with a water bottle dangling from the strap by a carabiner. A stack of magazines and trade journals and news articles you’d collected from booths introducing health treatments, medical technologies, or new mental health services formed a stack beside the bags.  

Jungkook stretched in his chair and scratched his scalp and blinked around the room as if he’d just woken from a nap. He hadn’t, he would never fall asleep while you were wandering a crowded place like this and might need his help at any moment. But it was boring. So fucking boring. Though not the first conference he had traveled with you for, this particular time, his patience for a three days full of lectures and networking and chatty lunches was thin.

He watched you lean against a tall table, talking with two other women, both nurses who worked at other hybrid sanctuaries in Asia. So many people you knew had descended on Tokyo for this international conference. You had begged and pleaded to go after Jungkook said he didn’t think it was a good idea. You had sighed and fluttered your eyelashes and draped yourself around him and knit your fingers together and then kissed along his jaw and sucked on his ears. He flushed now, letting out an impatient huff at how impossible it was to say no to you when you did that. 

But he had his reasons! You turned and laughed at something one of the nurses said, your hand resting on top of the large round swell of your belly. He noticed the way you alternated leaning against the table and swaying, meaning either your hips or your feet were hurting. Your lower back must be too from standing all day; he saw your back arch outwards for a moment as you tried to stretch. You had cried just the other day because you couldn’t actually stretch your back the way you wanted, but if he pressed his knuckles along your spine it felt good. You needed that right now, he sensed it. He was always trying to sense the things you needed, watching you closely, trying to take care of you because he’d done this to you after all. He thought you still hadn’t been quite sure about a baby but you were doing this for him. 

And also for a nurse you were remarkably bad at taking care of yourself.

He decided without seeing them that you ankles were swollen enough and he needed to drag you out of there, so he gathered all your things and marched over, only to shy away from the pairs of eyes that all immediately shifted to him.

“Y/N, let’s go rest,” he mumbled at your shoulder.

“Just a few more minutes.”

“You said that two hours ago…”

“I know,” you said, turning and pressing your hand to his chest. “I’m sorry, I know you’re bored. Just a few more minutes, I swear.”

He sighed. But you smiled at him. And from here your ankles didn’t look too bad yet.

“Drink more water,” he said, handing you the water bottle you’d set on the table. He hauled your things back to the round table and dumped them down but didn’t sit this time. Instead he remained standing, so you could have the reminder that you had said you would go soon. 

He crossed his arms.

He paced. 

He leaned against the back of a chair when a few minutes bled into more. Two more people had joined you. And now he was getting hungry too, which he knew meant you were probably hungry too and too busy talking work stuff to realize it. Time to use his own powers of persuasion.

Once again he grabbed your bags up and approached, this time pressing up close against you back. You mindlessly lifted your fingers over your shoulder to touch his neck, a soft gesture that meant hi, I see you. He loved that gesture. He loved you, his infuriating woman who didn’t pay attention to your own limits.

“Y/N,” he whined quietly at the back of your head. The impatient huffs and whimpers were quiet, though probably not so quiet your colleagues couldn’t hear. He didn’t care right now. They’d think your whiny pup was dragging you away and though he hated that, it was the price he’d pay to get you upstairs to your room so you could put your feet up.

“Ok ok,” you said. To you colleagues, you explained, “My husband is telling me it’s time to go. I’ve dragged him around for three days now and I think we’ve hit the limit.”

“You need to rest,” he defended. My husband. The label flustered him as five pairs of eyes looked at him. He could read the surprise and curiosity on their faces. Husband? A hybrid? Nurse Y/N actually married a hybrid?

No, not actually. It wasn’t legal in Korea --or in most places, for that matter. But you had still had a ceremony last year when your grandparents had visited Marigold in the spring, donning traditional Korean clothing and standing underneath an arch on the dock Jungkook had built years ago. It was small and simple. His parents had come up for it too, to finally meet your grandparents. You had actually been calling him your husband to people for at least a year by that point, making a point of it after several unsurprising and hurtful assumptions about the nature of your relationship from outsiders. So you’d had your meaningful little ceremony, and he’d been more affected by it than he anticipated; he had not expected to be so touched when you legally changed your last name as your application for Korean citizenship was accepted, just one more way to connect you in a country that wouldn’t legally allow it.

You turned towards him, your belly pressing into his side as the others around the circle shook his hand and tried to hide any shock from their faces. Not only were you “married” to a hybrid, but of course they’d now wonder about that baby in your belly.

“Yes, it’s mine,” he said, though no one had asked. He knew they were wondering and he wanted them to know.

You immediately laughed and patted his chest, “Yes, it is, and you’re trying to make me take it easy, I know. So we’d better go. It’s been nice seeing you all; you’ve got my contact info. We fly home tomorrow but let’s keep in touch!” Your pat embarrassed him, or rather made him embarrassed by his own possessiveness of your. Human husbands probably didn’t announce that the baby in their (not legally) wife was theirs. But people didn’t doubt a human husband the way they would a hybrid not-real husband.

Your room was on a higher floor in the hotel. The silence of the elevator turned the noise of the conference into a tingly buzz still lingering in Jungkook’s ears, but by the time he closed the door of the hotel room, he could relax into the comfort of silence. Years ago, it had been the shift from a crowded arena during a fight to the quieter victor’s suite, where he’d get patched up, maybe given a girl to fuck, and then tossed into the kennels to collapse with the other exhausted survivors. Words couldn’t describe how much he preferred this routine: lining up your shoes by the door, listening to you putter around in the bathroom, then dragging you down onto the bed and pulling you feet into his lap. They were damp.

“You-- you don’t have to… do that,” you tried to protest, despite obviously just rinsing them off, either hopeful or accepting he was going to do this. Also part of the ritual. All it took was one good press of thumbs up the arch of your feet to make you moan and give up the fight. What you liked the most though was just the squeezing of your heels. He squeezed so hard he expected it to hurt but you just whined and sighed. The noises always went right to his dick. It didn’t take much from you to get him going and seeing you laid back against the pillows, belly rounded with his pup, feet twitching in his grip… well, it was enough. 

He wanted to rub your feet longer, but now his gaze kept sliding up to your belly until he couldn’t resist any longer. His hands followed, one flattening and tracing the curve.

“Baby is good,” you told him, answering his unasked question. He grinned as he stretched out beside you but a little lower, so his hand could continue to press. “Here,” you took his hand and pressed it low, where he could feel it, the irregular thump against his hand.

“Foot?” he asked.

“I sure hope so,” you snickered, “Or that baby is coming out with biceps as big as yours.” You squeezed his arm and he let you, amused at the way you so casually caressed each other's bodies. He kept his hand there, letting his son kick his palm.

“He’s strong,” he mused, only to flinch and quickly cover, “Do you think the baby will sleep now?”

“No, it slept the whole conference. I felt like I was stroking its head while we were down there,” you said, a contented smile on your face. He let out a sigh of relief that you hadn’t noticed his slip. 

Jungkook was certain you were carrying his son. It wasn’t that he preferred a son, but that was certainly going to be easier, seeing as he was a boy. He didn’t necessarily hope the baby was much like himself but he knew what it was like to be a little boy, and that had soothed some of his worries about fatherhood. Bitna was the only girl he’d grown up with and she wasn’t a very normal girl, so he’d be lost with a daughter. But he’d just sensed early on that the baby was a boy, and so hadn’t minded when you suggested not learning the baby’s sex until it was born because what did it matter?

It didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t, Jungkook had assured you when he’d first started insisting it was a boy and you had broken down in tears. He’d never forget you sobbing with disappointment in him, “Are you really one of those traditionalist men who only cares about a son?” No! No, he wasn’t! He just happened to think a son would be easier and happened to believe this baby was a son! To soothe you, he’d enthusiastically agreed not to find out the baby’s sex, agreeing it didn’t matter, secretly knowing he was going to be right.

And it didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t, Jungkook had reminded himself when the technicians didn’t disclose the baby’s sex. It wasn’t that he’d maybe wanted to know to reassure himself he wasn’t having a daughter, (moot, since his gut said it was a boy) but because he was just desperate to know anything at all. 

He stroked the spot on your belly the baby had been kicking. There was another hard kick that made you grunt, followed by a louder grunt.

“Oof, it’s moving.”

Jungkook dragged your flowy shirt up, watching the ridge of the baby’s back he could see as it shuffled and twisted inside. You could always feel when the baby moved like that. You could feel when the baby got hiccups or was sleeping. You could feel when the baby got startled by a loud sound around you or when it grew still listening to the soothing music Jungkook played at home every day while he painted. He knew you also had the aches and pains and cramps and heartburn and swollen ankles and back aches. 

But you got to experience this, the baby was already so real to you that he’d catch you mumbling to it sometimes, or tapping your fingers against your belly when the baby’s head or butt pressed against it in silent communication, or rocking in the glider you bought on recommendation from Taehyung and Yejin --who had just had their third and, according to Yejin, absolute final. 

Jungkook was on the outside of it. He went to almost every doctor’s appointment, trading shifts at the restaurant where he still worked to clear his schedule. He painted the nursery, he built the furniture, he took the best damn care of you he could. But he still had to wait to meet the baby in a way you didn’t, and he just wanted to know something about this baby, who was going to change your lives “in ways you can’t even imagine yet,” according to his mother. All he had to go on so far was that he thought the baby was a boy.

But he kept that to himself, tracing his finger over the bulge of a head or a butt pressed just above your belly button. Your fingers wound into his hair, scratching his scalp, sending goosebumps shooting across his arms. When he glanced at your face though, your eyes were closed, your expression peaceful for a brief moment.

“You’re tired, jagi,” he murmured and kissed your belly. 

“I won’t admit it.”

“Admit it,” he teased.

“Never.”

You didn’t even complain enough to him, he didn’t think. He wouldn’t have minded. Listening to you narrate every minor ache and pain could have given him a greater window into your experience. Listening was the part he could do.

“You don’t stop for anything,” he said. “But now you have to. We came to the conference. Now we’ll go home and you promised.”

“I know, I promised. We’ll go home and I’ll take it easy.”

He heard the extra something in your voice and knew not to push further. The sadness crept in, like it sometimes still did, even though this baby was healthy and growing well. The timing of the wedding and name change had also been an emotional reset. After two years of trying before you actually got pregnant, only for the first pregnancy to end in an early miscarriage, you’d both whispered doubts to each other in the dark whether a child could actually be in your future. Now you had a healthy growing baby in your belly but still there had been minor disagreements when you thought he coddled or he thought you pushed yourself too far. Would he have packed you up in bubble wrap for the whole pregnancy if he could, like you’d accused him of? Well… maybe.

But this you had agreed on. This conference was the last thing you would leave Marigold for. Now you would go home and be gentle with yourself and let him pamper you until the time came that Jungkook could finally meet his son.

You were still scratching his scalp as he murmured, “I love you.” It still felt bold to say it sometimes, but he was determined to say it every day. This baby would take being loved for granted, it would hear about it so much. No matter what happened, this baby would always know it had a father who loved him.

“I love you too,” you returned, rolling onto your side towards him.

“Yes, and I love you too,” Jungkook conceded.

“You didn’t mean me?” you pouted, a smile in your voice.

“I love you both,” Jungkook said and kissed you before settling on the pillows, your belly cradled between you.

Damn, he was ready to go home. This conference had been really fucking boring.

                                            -------------------------------

You sat on the living room sofa in the main house, staring at the ground, sulking. They’d called Jungkook. They might as well have called your dad, for all the gravity the call was made with and for all the pleading not to and for all the dread you had about the consequences. Jungkook was going to be unhappy with you. 

Sure enough, you could recognize his steps as the front door swung open, and his serious stare met you a moment later. You tried to return his stare, but then closed your eyes and slumped backwards on the couch, clasping your hands on top of your stomach. He sat beside you on the couch.

“She completely fainted,” Jimin tattled, appearing with a second cool cloth to drape across your forehead. The one Dale had given you was already around you neck, making you shirt uncomfortably wet. Eunju had lifted your feet onto the coffee table and brought you juice and crackers. 

“Hit the ground?” Jungkook asked, eyes wide with concern but brow somehow still lowered. 

You were the one to quickly say, “No, I barely fainted and Namjoon caught me--”

“I caught her,” Namjoon agreed, striding in. He set a glass of ice water on the table as well. “She smelled a little strange--”

“Probably just a sugar crash,” you quickly clarified. “Nothing more serious. You always smell people when they sugar crash. I just went a little too long before lunch. I was just about to stop and eat--”

“You said that like an hour ago, babe,” Maya called. Everyone was circling, bustling in and out of the room. You hated the coddling. You hated the attention. You hated that they had called Jungkook for something this trivial --you were a nurse! You knew it was just a small dizzy spell! 

Jungkook just studied your face for a moment, taking in all the information from these fucking snitches, before touching your shoulder and asking, “You want to rest here? Or should I take you home?”

“Take me home,” you quickly answered. “These mother hens are driving me crazy. I’m fine!”

“Well when our nurse is still working at thirty-eight weeks pregnant and faints, we get a little antsy,” Jimin scoffed. “Complain all you want!”

“How do you even remember the weeks? Do you have my due date penciled in--”

“We all do! It’s right on the calendar in the kitchen! When that baby comes and you stay home to recover, we can all finally let out a sigh of relief,” Maya teased. She stopped behind the couch and pressed her hands to your shoulders. 

“I’m pregnant, not made of rice paper. Women run marathons pregnant.”

“Not this woman,” Dale beamed at you. “So sorry you aren’t Superwoman this time, must be hard for your ego. Now Let Jungkook take you home, get some rest. And Y/N… You don’t have to wait until you’re literally pushing a baby out of your body. Take time off as soon as you need it.”

“I don’t. I just went a little too hard, that’s all,” you grumbled. You held your hand out for Jungkook to take, not amused when he adjusted the damp towels so they would come along for the ride. He helped you to the front door, and held you steady while you stepped into your flats --the big comfortable ugly ones that were the only thing that fit your larger feet right now. Once you were on the porch, he considered asking to carry you down, you could see the thought on his face. But apparently the scowl on your face worked, and he just helped you down and into the car.

It was a quiet ride home, though fortunately not a long one. You could smell the paint from the nursery, making it obvious how he’d spent his afternoon; as soon as you were deposited on the sofa, he ran to open the nursery windows and shut the door so it could air out without letting all the heat out of the house. He disappeared into the kitchen next, returning with an assortment of snacks to display before you on the coffee table a moment later. He brought you a blanket and a pillow and then pulled you feet onto his lap to roll the compression socks down.

“Don’t,” you complained because it felt like too much right now. He was being too sweet and he hadn’t scolded you yet, but you knew it was coming. you could see it on his face, held down by his furrowed eyebrows. “Just… say it and get it over with.”

“If you aren’t going to take care for your own sake, at least do it for the baby.”

You closed your eyes and looked away. That hurt more than you had expected. You felt a painful bubble in your chest at the words.

“I’m not endangering the baby,” you mumbled, gaze shifting to your hands in your lap. “I hate that you think that. You already think I’m a bad mother.”

“Huh?” The shift in his voice was immediate. “I don’t think that. I just meant…” He trailed off; you could feel his careful study. But the painful lump in your throat lingered and you knew if you looked at him you might cry.

“I’m not being reckless. My health is good. I’m taking breaks. I’m just not ready to stop working yet and sit around twiddling my thumbs--”

“You have to slow down.”

“If I slow down any more I’ll just be a potted plant!” you argued. “I didn’t forget to eat, I just wasn’t hungry yet because the heartburn has ruined my appetite. That’s normal! There’s no space for my stomach with the baby in there and it hasn’t dropped yet so--”

“So little meals, you said. You need snacks. You need to stop and rest.”

“I eat snacks but it just happened. I was just dizzy; I probably stood up too fast but everything is fine and I need you to stop acting like I’m just being selfish.”

“You should stop working and stay home and rest.”

“These are my last weeks to get to be Nurse Y/N before I’m just Mom,” you snapped. “Don’t take that away from me. I’m fine. Please trust that I love this baby too and I am not doing anything to endanger it. I knew you’d overreact; they shouldn’t have bothered calling you--”

“Y/N.”

You both lapsed into silence, staring in opposite directions. You were trying not to cry but the exhaustion and the frustration were building. 

“The only thing I can do to help the baby right now is take care of you,” he finally said. “You have to let me do that.”

“I am. But you have to trust me when I say I’m fine.”

“Fainting isn’t fine.”

“They exaggerated because they’re worried.” His sigh revealed what he thought of that answer. “I’m fine. I’ll eat more frequent small snacks and be fine. Please, just… please.” You didn’t know specifically what you were asking for. More trust. Less scolding. More compassion. Less guilt. 

Less guilt was really the thing you needed most. You had been prepared for the physical changes --more or less, anyway. As a nurse, you had taken care of plenty of pregnant women. Sure, going through them was a step beyond but still, you could identify symptoms and normal changes and causes for concern like a textbook. That was comforting.

What you had not been prepared for was the guilt. The fears. The mental and emotional worries that plagued your dreams and your waking both. The bigger you got, the more the world revolved around the baby growing in your belly, but you couldn’t help the small voice in your head crying but what about me? Don’t I still matter? You had made plenty of adjustments and sacrifices as needed to make sure the baby was happy and healthy and growing in there --you’d eliminated certain foods and coffees, just to be safe; you went to bed on time; you napped; you didn’t go visit your grandparents because of the risk of Zika; and so on and so on. Yes, you felt sad about those sacrifices sometimes. Wasn’t that allowed? Or did that mean you were already a terrible mother? You had plenty of people ask why you were still working this late in your pregnancy but it was because you could! You were healthy! The pregnancy was going well this time! And soon you would be home with the new baby for at least six months, maybe longer, and what would that even look like for you? You had been miserable when not working before. Who would you be when you were nothing but this baby’s mother for a while, possibly a long while? Could you be happy like that? Were you already failing for being worried about such selfish things, for still thinking about a career and a life that didn’t revolve solely around your child? Was it because Jungkook had wanted to have a baby more than you had? Were you doomed to be an unloving, terrible mother from the start because he was the one who’d wanted this first, and this was just proof of that? But you did want this baby! You had agreed to this, to the heartbreak of trying again after that first loss, because you wanted this too! Couldn’t you want both?

“Y/N,” he said, hand sliding across your back. You turned into his shoulder and finally couldn’t withhold the tears any longer. They streamed onto his shirt, soaking the fabric as you sobbed. He held you, but the position was awkward with your belly taking up so much space in between. He wound up dragging you onto his lap, tangling your bodies together the way puppies did, piling on each other to comfort or be comforted.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. I know everything is harder for you right now. I can’t make anything easier. I’m just trying to take care of you. You work so hard all the time and I just want you to know that it’s ok for growing a baby to be enough.”

It wasn’t like him to stream out words like that; he must feel really bad and that soothed you too, reminding you that he didn’t know what the fuck they were doing either. 

“I don’t think I’m very good at being pregnant,” you admitted, pressing your face to his neck. 

“You are growing a healthy baby so you are very good at being pregnant. You are just not good at slowing down.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” you argued. “I listen to my body; I stop when I have to. But when I feel fine… Everything is changing and I’m trying not to complain or fuss but--”

“Complain to me, jagi! I’m your mate!”

“Yeah, but…”

He pressed his nose to your temple, rubbing, then nipped your nose and said gently, “I want to hear. I want to know. I don’t know anything. I can learn from you.”

“I don’t know anything either, Jungkook. I mean, I know about gestation and healthy baby size and pregnancy food needs. But I don’t know how to… how to become a mother, at least not a good one.”

“You’re a good mother already.”

“I’m not. I can’t be. I love this baby and I want this baby but everyone is saying I need to stop working, stop going places, stop doing things. Everything needs to be about the baby. So am I supposed to just stop existing except as a mother? I don’t know how to blend those things! And I want to work, I need to work, because I’m good at it but I’m not good at a having a baby like this and then at least if I fail as a mother, maybe I can make the baby proud as a nurse.”

This said, you leaned heavily against his shoulder again, a hollow ache where the words were no longer bricked up inside you.

After a while, Jungkook sighed, “I don’t know anything about it either. You know a lot about babies and I don’t know anything. But I think we’re going to be a happy family. I know it. We’ll do our best and love each other and I think that’s enough. All I ever wanted was to know my parents loved me.”

“I don’t know if my parents loved me,” you admitted, “I guess they did. But I don’t think they liked me very much.”

“I think we’ll like our baby.”

“I think so too,” you readily agreed. “It’s just that… everything is about to change. I’m so excited to meet this baby but I’m so fucking scared of getting this baby out,” you admitted with a small laugh. “And then… then what?”

He let out a deep breath and admitted, “I didn’t know you were scared about it too.”

“Of course I’m scared about it. You are?”

“Yeah.”

“You just act so… confident about everything. You take such good care of me and you remember everything and you’ve worked so hard on the nursery. You wanted this baby so bad, you were ready. I mean, I want it too! It’s just that the closer we get, the more I worry, am I really ready? What if I lose myself? I just become someone’s mom, nothing more… what if that’s not enough for me?”

“You will always be more than that,” he corrected. “Our baby has a busy mother. That’s ok. We said that. When you want to go back to work, if we need someone home with the baby still, I can do it. Why does it have to be the mom who stays home?” You had said that, as you’d imagined the many different ways your future could look. You didn’t know if Jungkook had been serious about that, about his willingness to stay home. You didn’t think you could bear the guilt of leaving your baby home, failing as a mother like that --you were supposed to want to stay home, weren’t you? And maybe you would want that! And maybe he wouldn’t want to! You couldn’t say because you just didn’t know what to expect!

“How can you say you’re scared when you sound so certain about everything?” you sighed enviously.

“I know we will figure it out. I can do anything with you in my corner and I’m in your corner so… we’ll be good.”

“Really? A boxing reference?”

You felt his smile as he kissed your jaw and shifted on the couch so he could drag the blanket over you both.

“Yes,” he said. “I know more about boxing than about babies but I will work harder at this than anything in my life. Together we’ll make it work. Not everything will change.”

“Are you going to say we’ll still have each other?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. His fingers were softly stroking your jaw. “I worry about things too. You’ll love the baby and forget about me…”

“I won’t,” you gasped, leaning away and staring into his face. “You’re my love, my mate, my partner. The baby won’t replace you!” He did not actually look too worried about it though.

“A little bit in the beginning. Taehyung talks to me about it. But I know you love me and you need me and it’s like that for me and we are two strong people, we can handle a baby,” he grinned. “A baby is little. We can win.” It made you smile, even laugh a little.

“Yeah, what’s one small baby against us, huh?” You leaned back against his shoulder and clung to his faith in you as a mother, his confidence you could figure this out. You wanted to be as certain, but you were still scared. What if you were wildly inept? What if the baby didn’t like you, or you struggled to love it, or you grew bitter about the career sacrifices that would have to happen to make sure the child came first as it deserved? What if you didn’t like being home with it? What if --as you had once feared-- mothering just wasn’t a thing that came naturally to you? Anytime you had hinted at that fear with Yejin or Helene or your grandmother, they’d laughed: you are full of love; you don’t have to be exactly like any other mother, but you are going to be a wonderful mother to your own wonderful baby because you have been a healing mother to so many people already. 

“You’re going to be such a wonderful father, Jungkook. You are strong and soft and wonderful in all the right ways.”

“Everything I know I learned from you,” he prodded. 

“That’s not true, but thank you.” You kissed the warm side of his neck. “Now what can you tell me to make me feel better about the pain of childbirth?”

“You are the strongest woman I know--”

“No no, that doesn’t work.”

“Drugs,” he said. “Lots of drugs. Epidural, yeah? Yeah.”

“We’ll see, I don’t know… I just don’t know anything, Jungkook.”

“You know a lot, Y/N. You just care a lot too.”

“I do care a lot.”

“I know. So it’s ok.” He rubbed his nose against yours and nipped again, kissed down your cheek and nipped your jaw. It was crazy how used to this form of comfort you had become over the years; you craved it when you were stressed or upset. You let your head fall back so he could nip along your neck. The mental image came again, of Jungkook nuzzling and cuddling your baby like this, you draped around them. It was the thought that had finally changed your mind on having a baby, too, the certainty that Jungkook was going to be a very, very good father, and that you would do your best to keep up. 

You sighed, going limp in his arms, until he finally ran his nose up to your ear.

“Sleepy jagiya,” he murmured. 

“Mm-hm.”

“I’ll carry you to bed?”

“Mm-hm, ok,” you conceded, knowing he took great pride in still lifting you with the additional weight. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bedroom. “Wait, are you almost finished with the nursery? I want to see.”

“Later. Rest first. The nursery will still be there.”

“But you’re working so hard on it--”

“You are working even harder,” he argued. “Now you need to rest.”

“Do you think that tone will work with our child?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Me too,” you laughed, and let it work with you now, especially since he let you pull him down to the bed to nap with him. Tangled in his arms and legs, you felt better. Almost like you could do this, at least if you had him by your side, and all your friends who had overreacted today because they cared. Maybe, if you tried really hard, this could all be enough for the baby.

“Everyone just wants to be loved,” you whispered to yourself.

“You overflow with love,” Jungkook whispered back. “It’s not a concern.” He sounded so serious about it, so certain. It was the last reassurance you needed to curl up on your side, pillow stuffed between your knees to cushion your joints, and fall asleep.

                                     -----------------------------------

Damn. Damn he had been an idiot. Jungkook sat in the chair beside your  hospital bed, the plastic tub with your baby inside boxing him in, and stared at the wall. 

Damn, he had gotten everything so very wrong.

He was in shock. He knew that. He remembered the feeling of getting dragged from a fire and tossed into a cold pool, the way your skin tingled and your lungs burned and your eyes ached to close for a while, the way you were sweaty and cold at the same time. 

Had it all really happened? Really?

He glanced at the bassinet and couldn’t believe it was a real baby inside. He ought to be holding it but it was asleep and he didn’t want to disturb it, even though you had begged him to hold it while you slept, afraid it would feel cold and lonely. Your faith in him had been astonishing; seeing how much strength you took from him was incredible and he felt completely insufficient for it. What good had he been? No good, not good for a single fucking thing!

Sure, he’d held your arm as you paced through your contractions. He’d held your hips and pushed into your lower back as you had used the baby crib he’d built to help you sway through the worst of the pain. It had made him sick to see you in pain but he’d bitten that back and done his best to walk you through every survival method he knew.

Sure, he’d maintained his calm as he drove you to the hospital, and held your hand through checking in, and only snapped a little when the nurses were taking too long getting you into a room. He’d been calm and thorough about attending to your every need, desperate to do anything when it seemed like his options to help you were limited. This is normal, the nurse had assured you. Just a few hours and then you’ll have your baby.

But the hours dragged on. And on. And on. Your pain broke him, froze him, re-animated him. The nurses didn’t like him, he knew that, because he didn’t have any patience for their glacial pace when you needed something. He didn’t like how they could be chatting and laughing and happy while checking your’s and the baby’s vitals, not when you would curl forward, trying to escape the contractions. Pain was inescapable, and having to watch you go through it… it was too much. He had not been prepared for how terrible it would be. He’d been so focused on the baby and taking care of you throughout your pregnancy that he hadn’t worried enough about this part. He’d trusted too much the idea that women did this all the time. It had left him unprepared for the gut-wrenching agony of watching you suffer.

And then things got worse. The baby wasn’t moving. Your water had broken too long ago and you were starting to get a fever and the baby was being stubborn. Oh no, he’s going to be like me, Jungkook had fretted, long past rational thought at this point. He’d stood dumbly by as the nurses and doctor and you had discussed, as they’d tried to ask him his opinion, as he’d only nodded and motioned to whatever you said without understanding what was happening because internally he was panicking and this time you couldn’t soothe him through it.

Sure, he’d walked behind the gurney as they’d carted you down to surgery. He’d put on the gown and mask and papery hat and stood by your head, where the nurses nudged him. He’d held your hand, unable to look away from the exhaustion and fear on your face as they raised a curtain to perform the surgery out of your view. Surgery. Real surgery. He’d seen into your body as the doctors lifted a baby out of you.  You had cried as the baby screamed and he just stared, too slow and unresponsive to even cut the cord. He had expected to immediately recognize the baby’s scream, but it was just a noise, not even a very concerning one at the moment. He’d watched you nuzzle the baby under your chin, a swollen, red, angry baby that looked nothing like he’d imagined other than the dark hair like his own. He’d even touched your face to reassure you, pulled your gown back into place where it had been knocked around in the chaos; but even that had been wrong, you’d been trying to unsnap it so you could hold the baby against the warm skin of your chest. You already knew what to do with your upset child. The baby had drawn his attention less than the long line of stitches being sewn into your lower belly; you would have a big scar, a reminder of what he’d watched you endure.

Things were blurry after that. You were drugged in a way that scared him, but your attention was so focused on the baby that his fear didn’t matter right now much anyway. You were taken to a recovery room, the baby was looked at, everyone was said to be healthy and fine. Jungkook had called some people, his parents, your grandparents, Jimin. He hadn’t been able to tell them much except that everything was apparently fine, confused when they asked if he was all right and if you had named the baby yet.

The baby twitched in its cubby. He peeked down, but the baby settled back to sleep so he didn’t touch it. When he leaned back in his chair, he read the card on the side again: Baby Girl Jeon, DOB 2-24.

A girl! Even the baby had turned out different than his expectations for what “becoming parents” would go like. A girl…

He stared at the wall and wished he could fall asleep but knew it wouldn’t come. He felt like he’d been through the worst fight of his career. He felt like he’d been through a war. In reality, he felt nothing, just sat there shocked about it all and wondering how he could be so useless and how his expectations had been so fucking wrong.

                                          ---------------------------------

He must have drifted off again without realizing it, because noise in the room woke him. He was embarrassed to find he’d failed even as a guard; two nurses were helping you sit up while a third finished changing the baby’s tiny diaper. This kept happening. He was trying his best to stay awake, so he could be on hand to get anything you needed --ice, water, applejuice, more blankets, more pillows, move the pillows, turn on the TV, turn off the TV. The pain from your incision definitely was worse the next day, and they took your catheter out but you needed help walking to the bathroom. You were slow and fragile-seeming and it terrified him, and so he wanted to be always on hand to help you.

But once again he’d fallen asleep in that uncomfortable chair, tricked into it by his own tired brain. 

Quickly he sat up, leaning close on the edge of the bed, but you didn’t seem upset with him about sleeping. You scratched his jaw and smiled at him, then held your arms out as the nurse lowered the baby into them. Whatever pain or lingering trauma you must have from giving birth in that manner, you seemed utterly distracted from it whenever the baby was near.

“Isn’t she perfect?” you whispered. He watched you stroke the baby’s downy black ears, still paperthin and folded up, just barely poking out of the shock of dark hair. The baby looked up at you with dark eyes beneath a heavy brow; very much like the baby pictures Jungkook’s mother had texted you to compare earlier this morning. He worried the baby might have his nose too, and how would that look on a little girl? 

“Well I think she is,” you cooed, making him realize he hadn’t answered yet.

“She’s small,” he said. No, that wasn’t good enough. “She…”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Huh?”

“I know you wanted a boy,” you said. He didn’t have to see your face to hear the threat of tears.

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m not disappointed. I’m just… surprised.” He leaned down on the bed beside you, watching the baby, trying to feel that connection he had hoped would come immediately. Even seeing his own image reflected back at him in tiny ways didn’t make him look at this infant and know anything more about it than he had when it was still tucked away in your stomach. Logically he knew the baby would grow and get more personality and someday be walking and talking like Taehyung’s kids but… He realized you were watching him stare at the baby, so he added, “I don’t know anything about little girls.”

“You don’t know what a little boy would have been like either,” you argued, the same argument you’d had while pregnant. “A girl could still like cars and fighting and--”

“I don’t want anyone to like fighting.”

“--And a boy might have liked dolls and tea parties.”

“I know that,” he insisted. “It’s not important, Y/N. I’m not disappointed.”

“You can’t be disappointed. She’s perfect.” You hooked your finger into a tiny fist. The baby smacked its lips and wriggled in its blanket, curling closer to your chest and nodding off. Apparently eating and a diaper change had been too much excitement and worn it out. 

“I’m not disappointed,” he insisted again. “Are you?”

“No. What? Why would I be disappointed?”

“Ears. Tail.”

“Yes, my daughter is a hybrid, so? So is my mate”

Jungkook nodded but secretly didn’t believe you. You were drugged and tired and not thinking about it because you couldn’t actually be that oblivious. With a human mother, the baby would qualify for human citizenship, but with hybrid features, it would face the same barriers Jungkook did. Even though you had spent your life working with hybrids, you could still move fluidly between the worlds. You didn’t understand. He had hoped his child would be spared this; some mixed children didn’t even have the ears of their hybrid parent, apparently the most dominant of hybrid features. He had hoped his child would just be a boy copy of you. That would have been the best, easiest future. This child… he just didn’t know how he was possibly supposed to protect it. He’d barely managed to protect you for the last nine months.

“I know I don’t know what it’s like to be a hybrid,” you said, once again making Jungkook suspect you had secret mind-reading abilities. “And I wouldn’t wish any struggles on my own child. But I’ve spent my life trying to make this world a better place for hybrids, and now I’ll keep fighting that fight to make it a better place for our daughter. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy and healthy. She’s beautiful and I wouldn’t change a thing about her, certainly not to make her look less like my handsome mate.”

He pressed his face to your arm, only to be stunned when you added, “Please don’t scent me though until you’re willing to scent her too.”

“What?”

“You haven’t yet.”

“She’s so small,” he defended.

“Ok. But usually hybrids scent their babies right away--”

“You aren’t a hybrid, don’t lecture me.”

You went silent. He cringed. You nodded and he could feel the weight of your swallow, the way you bit back tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to your arm. But you had said not to scent you, so he didn’t. He should scent the baby instead but he’d said the truth. It was so small. A boy baby would have been bigger, right? Sturdier? The boy baby he’d seen in his head was bigger.

He wasn’t soothed by your answer, “I know.” It felt like there was a but in there. But… you aren’t being the partner I need. But… you aren’t being a good father. But… you don’t belong here in this human hospital. But… it’s your fault I had to go through all this pain. But… it’s your fault our baby has dog ears and a dog tail and will never look just like every other little girl. 

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. It was lame, a lame attempt to still be useful to you.

“My stitches are hurting pretty bad,” you admitted. “Can you ask the nurse when I can have more pain medicine?” 

That he could do. He rose swiftly and headed for the door, but paused and looked back. He watched you stroke the little head one more time and kiss it, then gently tug a yellow hat down over the tiny head. He heard your sniffle from the door. You thought he hated the baby. He didn’t hate it! He just didn’t know it!

Fuck. He was failing. He’d been a father for less than forty-eight hours and already he was failing.

In his panic, he forgot about the medication. He blanked on it completely, he got distracted by his own frustrations, and he left the hospital to go for a jog to clear his mind. He’d come back a new man, he would! He psyched himself up about all the things he’d do better when he got back from his jog. He’d change diapers! He’d have the nurse show him again how to swaddle! He’d start writing down your medication times so he could keep it up when you went home and there wasn’t another nurse there doing it for you-- fuck, your medication!

He turned and jogged back to the hospital, determined for a better round two.

                                    -----------------------------------

The hospital had not let you stay long. Three days didn’t feel like long enough, and Jungkook had tried to argue with the doctor about it, but you already knew the lines the doctor responded with. You were healthy and your sutures were healing nicely. The baby was healthy and even eating nicely. You were a nurse, living in a sanctuary with other medical staff nearby. Jungkook was even suddenly being more helpful! He hadn’t scented you daughter yet, but he was changing diapers now, doing his best to swaddle the baby in a blanket, and even watched over her closely when you slept. You would wake that final day and night to see him staring down at the baby, or even reaching out a finger to touch her little cheek, and while it wasn’t scenting, it looked more like acceptance.

So there was no reason to stay longer in the hospital other than your own fear over the reality that you and Jungkook were actually parents now, parents with a baby to take care of, with the added complication that you were recovering from more of a surgery than you had expected. Of course you had known there was a risk of Cesarean. You had wanted to avoid it, to avoid the additional healing process. But by the time the doctor decided it was time, you’d had no fight left in you and had known it was the right call, for your baby’s safety and your own. 

But it didn’t mean you were ready to look at the steri-strips and long scar any more than you had to right now. Your saggy tummy, your painfully swollen breasts and aching nipples and the constant sense you were peeing yourself, none of mattered right now because your body had worked hard and deserved some love and patience. The birth already felt like a dream, except for that damn incision. Besides, you had a beautiful baby who needed you right now.

All of you. Mi-Cha never didn’t need you. If Mi-cha wasn’t on you in some way, she was screaming. Awake? Needs to be held against your heart or tucked under your chin. Asleep? Needs to be held against your heart or tucked under your chin. She might allow you to lay down in bed with her and sleep with Mi-Cha curled up in your armpit, but you were terrified of rolling over and crushing her, which meant Jungkook had to sit there and supervise. 

Poor Jungkook. Poor yourself too, sure, you were exhausted beyond all exhaustion, but at least there was something sweet about the baby clinging so desperately to you. Jungkook tried to be present and helpful and give you a break and it only ever led to screaming, and those little newborn shrieks inevitably led to you bursting into your own frantic tears. Every time he offered to take the baby so you could try to sleep, you could see him bracing himself for the unfailing shrieks. You certainly couldn’t fall asleep like that, but you could shower or quickly eat something or at least change your clothes. Maybe your hygiene wasn’t the best but hey, newborn babies loved the scent of their mama, right?

It was no way to live though. It couldn’t last. After only three days of this, you were nearing a breakdown and you knew it and couldn’t see an end in sight. Jungkook’s parents wouldn’t be here until the end of the following week and they wouldn’t be wizards with a baby. Maya and Ana had both come by, called by you to check the baby and make sure you weren’t missing something wrong because you felt incompetent over how much your daughter cried. It wasn’t like Mi-Cha always just stopped immediately crying as soon as you held her, once she got going about your betrayal for setting her down, or because you failed to anticipate whatever she wanted but couldn’t communicate yet. She was fussy and demanding and beautiful but you felt like your little family was already failing. 

So on day three, it was back to the pediatrician for a second visit for another verification that nothing was wrong. Nope. Mi-Cha was gaining weight at a good clip. She responded properly to stimuli and didn’t react to any presses on her tummy or head or tail. Gas was suggested and you were given drops to coax into her and told to keep trying, sometimes babies just took time to settle into a routine. 

But at home it continued. Jungkook offered to help less, knowing it didn’t do any good, and probably because he was exhausted having his own child scream at him and reject him. It was particularly problematic since you were more convinced by the day that Jungkook hated the baby anyway. It wasn’t a boy. It looked like him. It had puppy ears and a tail and just wasn’t what he meant when he said he wanted a baby. Frankly, his rejection hurt you too, after you worked so long and hard to make this baby. It drove a wedge between you. It had only been four days but it felt like a week had passed and you couldn’t help but feel like your lives had been ruined.

                                    -----------------------------------

“Mi-Cha,” you sang, badly because you were exhausted and had no energy or mental stamina to carry a tune. “Mi-cha, Mi-cha, sweetest lovely Mi-Cha, take a little nap so your mommy can do it too.” You cradled the baby in the crook of your elbow as you tried to unwrap a granola bar because heaven forbid you put Mi-Cha down for a moment. Your hands were shaking at your daughter’s angry shouts regardless, but you thought if you could just eat something you would get a second wind. Or, well, a fiftieth wind. A hundredth wind?

Jungkook watched you from the doorway, reading all of these things, but not sure how to help. His feelings of helplessness had only grown since coming home, watching you get dragged further under the demands of a newborn. You were both exhausted, but he knew you were carrying more of the weight right now and he didn’t know what to do. Belatedly, he realized he could at least open the fucking granola bar for you and dove forward. But Mi-Cha was already angry she’d been held wrong for too long, so by the time he handed the granola bar over, you were crying quietly beneath Mi-Cha’s wail. He held the granola bar up, trying to give you an encouraging smile and knowing he failed.

At that moment, your phone buzzed itself off the kitchen counter and landed perfectly on his foot. He cursed and grabbed it. His mother. Well, he could at least take care of that. He showed you the caller ID and wasn’t surprised by the way your expression sank. But he quickly grabbed the phone away and left the room, answering, making clear to you he would deal with it. His mother had been calling daily, trying to be helpful but adding stress already, even though she and Appa weren’t coming to visit until the end of next week.

“Eomeoni, hello,” he greeted, making sure she could hear the baby in the background before he closed himself into the bedroom. 

“Mi-Cha has strong lungs,” she mused.

“She has strong everything,” he sighed. “Strong lungs, strong demands, strong complaints.”

He could hear the amusement in her voice as she said, “Yes, yes, a new baby is difficult. You were hard for us, too, so hard. It takes me back. You sounded just like that. Do all babies sound like it? I don’t think so, I think I know she’s mine by her cry.” He slumped on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes. It was sweet that his parents were so excited about Mi-Cha. While he felt like there would always be a pebble in the shoe of their relationship, their instant love and adoration for the granddaughter they hadn’t even met yet had felt like a new layer of healing over old wounds. But right now, his mother’s sympathy didn’t solve the problem and he was so tired he could barely follow her.

“... so every day after lunch your father would come home from work early and take you so I could sleep for a few hours, and then he’d do it again at midnight. It was odd hours but you just wouldn’t accept anything else; even as a new baby, you had an idea of how the house was going to go!” It was interesting to hear that, seeing as his own memories of childhood didn’t recall his parents being pushovers to his whims. 

But something else caught him, and he asked, “Did Appa have any special tricks? Mi-Cha won’t let go of Y/N. She wants nothing to do with me. I know a mother is the most important but--”

“Appa!” she called, her voice loud through the phone as she forgot to pull away. Jungkook flinched. “Appa! Talk to your son, he wants to know a father thing. I don’t know what you did to Gukka so he’d be quiet with you when he was a-- yes, talk to him.”

The phone changed hands and Jungkook rubbed his forehead as Appa greeted him, asked about the baby, asked about you, and only then said, “Yes, ok, what is the question?”

“Eomeoni says when I was baby, you would take me so she could sleep. Y/N needs to sleep but Mi-Cha just screams all the time. How did you do it?”

“Oh, well, I… I didn’t do anything remarkable,” he said, sounding confused by it. “You were a good baby. We’d just do our thing, father and son.” Jungkook physically cringed, it hurt his stomach; he realized he hadn’t eaten in a while either. He needed to make something better for you both to eat than granola bars and cold noodles. 

“I don’t have a son,” he said, sharper than he would have meant on a normal day.

“Yeah, we didn’t use our dongles!” Appa laughed, loud and easy and relaxed. “What’s different? You can tell me. I kept you and your eomma scented well enough. I’d bundle you up in a little sash against my chest, and off we’d go!”

“Go where?” Jungkook asked, brow lowering. 

“Oh, we just walked. We walked and walked, it was nice,” Appa said. “We watched the leaves change and we’d walk to get fresh bread or rice cakes from the shops. You’d cook with me or sometimes we’d watch TV together if it rained…”

That was the thing. That was the thing Jungkook hadn’t tried yet. He’d been waiting until things felt better, until he felt a connection with Mi-Cha, until he felt like she wanted him to be near her, but now Appa had him wondering if he’d gotten the most obvious thing wrong. 

“I have to go, Appa,” he abruptly said. “Thank you. Tell Eomma thank you.” He hung up before anything else could delay and hoped his parents would understand.

He hurried to the nursery, where he could hear you mumbling to Mi-Cha through the closed door. You looked over from the window where you swayed with Mi-Cha under your chin when he flung the door open, and it struck him again how tired his poor love looked. 

“Go sleep, jagiya,” he said, striding forward. You gave him a crooked smile, certain he was joking. But he was determined to give it a solid effort and pressed his face to your neck.

“Gukka--”

“Shh, jagiya, I’ll scent her in a moment. Let her smell me on you first,” he murmured, nipping his way along your neck, rubbing his nose and chin. Even just that eased the tension in his shoulders he’d started to grow used to again; touching you so closely soothed him, like he too was a needy little baby unwillingly separated from warm, soft, wonderful you. Maybe you felt the same; you sighed and lifted your chin, the saddest little whimper coming from you he’d ever heard. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing Mi-Cha in between, something that usually made her cry but right now she stayed silent.

Because he could, he kissed your chin and your nose and your mouth, a real kiss, the first real one since Mi-Cha had been born. 

“We’ll try this,” he murmured. “Maybe it will work.”

“What will work?”

“I’ll take better care of my girls,” he said. Vague, but you didn’t protest as he dragged his mouth down the other side of your neck, and along your shoulders, and then lower, to the soft little head cradled against your chest. 

“You too, Mi-Cha,” he said gently, brushing his nose as carefully as could be against the back of her head. She smelled like fresh laundry and newness and warmth and some extra thing that was uniquely her, though tied to himself and you. He could recognize this baby anywhere already, he knew that; he could pick her clothing out of a pile, no problem; he could find her no matter how far she wandered once she was mobile.

But now he added his scent directly to her, strong, so there’d be no question about the slight thread of relation. He pressed it to the back of her head and her little shoulder and her arm and leg and her back. You twisted her the other way and he worked his way back up, even peppered little kisses against her face and hair because she wasn’t crying about him being so close. He felt affection blossom in his chest. She wasn’t asleep, but she just lay there quietly under this, as if it was something she wasn’t sure of but understood had to happen. Her wispy hair stuck out funny around her little ears, which had already gained some shape but now looked more like little cat ears. They’d grow fast, he knew, and soon flop like his had in his baby pictures. And probably someday, maybe after puberty, they’d grow a little more, get some more shape to them, and no one would ever cut or tear them. No one would ever touch her little tail, which suddenly brushed against his hand.

“Was that a wag?!” you gasped, noticing it too. “It can’t be! That milestone isn’t until like a month.”

“I don’t know if it was that,” he admitted, but grinned because he’d instantly thought so too, just a little tap like that. “Still, it means she’s strong… Let me try…” Your eyes went wide. You both held your breaths as Jungkook lifted Mi-Cha out of your hold and instead tucked her under his own chin. 

“Shhhh. Hello, Mi-Cha,” he said quietly. He froze, worried the rumble of his voice in his chest would set her off, but she didn’t make a peep.

“She’s still awake,” you said. “But…”

“But she’s not crying.”

“It worked!” you squealed. You pressed your hand to Mi-Cha’s back, adding your own soothing, “There you go, sweet girl. Appa has you now. See? You’re safe and happy with Appa.”

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Go.”

“What?”

“Go sleep! I’ve got her.”

“Oh my god.” You stared at him, like this hadn’t even occurred to you. “Oh my god!” You pressed your hand to your mouth, then kissed them each on the cheek, then fled the room, shuffling as quickly as you could so recently after giving birth. It was almost enough to make him laugh; he could hear the weight with which you hit the bed in their bedroom, like you’d jumped onto it so nothing could pull you back. He hoped you hadn’t actually done that; your incision was still healing!

Mi-Cha stayed quiet beneath his chin. He could feel the tiniest flutter of her breath against his collarbone. But she was only wearing a diaper, freshly changed; you hadn’t dressed her yet and he worried Mi-Cha would be cold in these final days of February, even though the house was warm.

“Ok, princess pup,” he murmured, “You need clothes. Let’s see… let’s see…” He heard the tiniest chirp and bounced over to the small mirror so he could see her reflection. Her eyes were open, looking curiously around, like she was surprised by her own acceptance of this new situation. 

“Damn, you’re cute when you aren’t screaming,” he grinned because damn, he looked pretty cool holding a baby like this. 

It was tricky picking out new clothes for her without risking his grip on her. He wound up sliding her down to nestle in the crook of his arm, and while she refused to let you hold her like this, she deemed it acceptable with Jungkook. The drawers in the closet were full of baby things in all soft hues, though a few fun outfits in darker colors, mostly his friends poking fun of his own fashion style. He picked a cozy green knit sleeper and talked to her as he dressed her, since he had to put her down. She fussed about it, so he moved quickly, tucking in her little feet and little hands, careful that her tail curled comfortably up the back. Eomma had already said she was looking forward to doing all the clothing alterations when she arrived, so Mi-Cha could proudly show off her little tail. 

“You look like a little green bean,” he admitted, lifting her quickly so he could shuffle a swaddle sack into place and tuck her into it. He started to pull a hat on but she fussed enough he left it off. But he still worried her head would get cold, so he found a bigger hat, one that dwarfed her little head when he pulled it down, but she accepted that. “So cozy, so cute,” he narrated, snuggling her back down into his arms. “We won’t go far today for our first adventure. Just to the kitchen to get some food and then back here. We can sit in the comfy chair and watch the flowers grow,” he suggested. “Eomma isn’t far, she’s just sleeping…”

Even after he had eaten carefully around her and returned to ease into the nursery chair, Mi-Cha still hadn’t cried. He worried she’d be getting hungry, but instead her eyelids started to droop as he settled down with her, draping a blanket over them both. She curled up against his chest, little mouth opening and closing a few times in the tiniest yawn. His heart briefly stopped when her little covered hand pressed against his chest and she closed her eyes and dozed right off.

“I see,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Mi-Cha. You surprised me in every way. But I made you wait while I sorted my shit out and that’s not right. I’m your appa, it’s my job to make sure you are loved and safe even when you surprise me.” He hunched over to kiss her little nose and stroked her cheek. She looked asleep, her breathing a bit heavier, but he still assured her, “You are loved and safe and I don’t know anything about you yet other than that you’re mine, and that’s enough for now.” He hesitated, then grinned, “And I think you are maybe stubborn too.”

Jungkook had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do that was more important than rocking his daughter, holding her close while she slept, and letting his mate finally get some sleep before you murdered someone.

                                    ------------------------------------

You woke slowly from you nap and stretched, mindful of the C-section scar out of habit though several months after surgery you were feeling pretty good. Your shirt had hiked up while you slept and you glanced down at the smile on your lower belly --that was how Jungkook had described it between kisses along the curve of it a week or so ago and the comparison had lingered. Not that you’d had any doubt, but a new scar was nothing unattractive to Jungkook, once he’d had a few good visits with his therapist to work through the trauma of childbirth. You had not realized ahead of time how upsetting that would be for him, but it explained too the first rough few days in which he’d kept his distance from the small baby whose birth had caused your pain, blinding him briefly to the much greater joy Mi-Cha brought.

You felt bad not to have anticipated that. But how could you have predicted the pain, the fear, the exhilaration, the euphoric joy of holding your fresh little newborn against your chest? Even thinking about it now, as you often did, made your fingers itch to grab those little thighs, brush back the little fluff of hair, or stroke along your daughter’s tail like you’d formed a habit of. Tail! You had known of course that your daughter could have some level of hybrid chimera. You hadn’t expected it to be strange to you after how much time you’d spent with hybrids and that was the only thing you’d predicted correctly: it didn’t seem unusual to you at all. Every centimeter of that baby was beloved and precious and perfect. You spent hours going over every bit of your baby, relishing in every dimple, every downy patch of hair, every little blink and hiccup and murmur. 

Fears that you would have a baby and not know what to do with it? Absolutely the truth, you still couldn’t believe you had a baby, and it still felt like you were living hour to hour trying to keep Mi-Cha fed, bathed, and entertained.

Fear that you would have a baby and not love it? Absolutely unfounded. Even once the baby was an impossible being in your arms, no longer a series of flickers and thuds within your belly, you’d loved her. Even when that tiny baby had pushed you to the brink of collapse, when you and Jungkook had cried together in shared frustration, even when Mi-Cha had ruined not one but two of your shirts with diaper explosions, even then your love had been unshakeable. Maybe not your nerves or patience, but your love.

Now the quiet house was disorienting, even though you knew it was nothing to be worried about. Jungkook took her out for a walk just about every day at this time, so you could have a rest before Jungkook would head out to the restaurant for his evening shift if he had one. You didn’t know how long he’d be gone or when he’d return so you sent him a quick text letting him know you were awake. 

[JK<3]: on my way how’s mi-cha doing? I miss her [Y/N]: very funny

You cut up an apple and wandered outside so you could watch Jungkook arrive. Sometimes they biked and sometimes they drove in a cart if you were going along but today he’d walked. With your apple slices cupped in your hand, you stood on the wooden front porch and watched him come down the road, a flowery sunbrella shielding himself and the baby from the spring sunshine. He was flushed and sweaty from the walk by the time he stepped up and Mi-Cha’s head turned side to side from where Jungkook had her wedged in the front carrier; she could obviously sense you.

“My sweet baby,” you cooed, leaning down into view and stroking her hair where the headband with the big black bow didn’t cover it. The bow matched the little romper she had on, black and red polka dots with an all-black diaper cover. She looked like a little ladybug and it was definitely not what you had put her in but Jungkook, you had learned, found a lot of enjoyment in carefully choosing Mi-Cha’s outfits for their walks. He liked her in matchy-sets, whereas you really just put on whatever was clean and within reach --because it usually didn’t stay clean for long. She’d developed pretty bad acid reflux, which meant she spit up a lot and preferred to be upright and held, none of which her daddy minded at all. He’d proclaim “Time for a wardrobe change” every time he hauled her off to clean her up.

“Where were you too off to today?” you asked as Jungkook brushed past you to toss the diaper bag down just inside the door. You always smiled to see it, because Seokjin had tried to buy him a sleek black leather “dad-bag” that even you had expected him to love, and Jungkook had gone off about how dads didn’t need separate bags and who cared if this one had yellow and green pastel polka dots, and if anyone had a problem with it they could fucking fight him. 

“Mr. Moon,” he answered. You helped him untie and unbutton and untwist to pull Mi-Cha out of the carrier and took a moment to cradle Mi-Cha to your chest and kiss and nuzzle her face. Even though no scent really got applied, Mi-Cha loved it, and Jungkook had assured you there was a little of your smell that transferred. Mi-Cha gurgled and kneaded her fingers against your shirt, her little tail thump-thumping against your arm. 

“How’s he doing?” you finally answered. Jungkook gave you a look that said enough. His health had continued to deteriorate; Alya had earned her nursing license just in time to become his full-time caretaker. You knew the end was going to be incredibly difficult for Jungkook, who’d taken to Mr. Moon like a long-lost grandson so long ago. You were glad he still spent his afternoons there with Mi-Cha so often. 

The sudden kiss surprised you from the sad thought, and you leaned into it, smiling as his fingers brushed your arm.

“Hm,” you hummed. “Hello.” His bashful smile melted your heart as he made to turn away, but you leaned forward for one more kiss. You had been working on this lately, making a point of physical affection with each other. Mi-Cha had dominated both of your attentions for almost three months now and that wasn’t going to stop any time soon, but you both had admitted that you missed each other. So you had agreed to kiss more, touch more, without reason or explanation.  “I love you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his jaw.

“I love you too,” came the reply, still music to your ears. Mi-Cha chirped and squeaked, and immediately both parents looked down at her. 

“It was a good walk,” Jungkook said, brushing Mi-Cha’s ear with his finger. “She smiles a lot at other people. I think she’ll be bright like you.”

“Bright,” you repeated. “Such a cute way to say that. But you’re forgetting how moody she gets when she doesn’t get what she wants, or if there’s too much noise, or--”

“Her ears are sensitive.”

“Ya, I know about her ears,” you teased. “Come on, you should drink some water. She’s probably about ready to eat too, unless she had a bottle.”

“She had a bottle,” he confirmed. 

“Ah, what a good girl you were for daddy today,” you cooed, swaying and bouncing her as you walked inside. “Are you going to be so good for mommy tonight?”

“I’m not working tonight.”

“Oh. I forgot--”

“That’s ok. I wrote it down.”

“I’m sure you did. The days sort of run together right now…”

He gave you a sympathetic touch on the shoulder, knowing how doubly exhausting that was, and assured you, “It’s ok. We’ll have a nice night in… unless you want to go out?” You had gone to dinner at Hoseok’s and his fiance’s place the night before though, and eaten an early dinner at the main house the night before that. It turned out, maternity leave was only as lonely and isolating as you let it be here. You had feared your social support would evaporate once Jungkook’s parents went home after two weeks but you only had to lift your phone or step out your door to find a Sanctuary’s worth of family eager to help.

Mi-Cha’s little mouth pressed against your collarbone, little tongue lapping at your skin. For most babies, that meant hunger, a rooting response meant as a gentle, early threat. But Mi-Cha liked to make things a little complicated by having a second behavior that was similar but not identical to rooting. Her little mouth latching onto something that was very clearly not a nipple for this adorable and maybe odd child meant she was sleepy. 

“Ah, she’s worn out,” Jungkook sighed, stepping close and touching her back as well as yours. “She was very busy at Mr. Moon’s…”

“Doing what? Is she finally painting?”

He snickered and corrected, “Looking, listening, fussing, holding onto pencils and paintbrushes we put in her hand.”

“Trying to make her a little protegee?” 

He looked serious as he answered, “No, no. We’ll see if she likes painting. She doesn’t have to like painting.” Mi-Cha sucked a little harder, then pulled off and let out a warning fuss.

“All right, sweet one,” you apologized. “Let’s check your diaper and then to sleep.”

“I just changed her, I think she’s fine,” Jungkook insisted, leaning down to sniff her diaper. It was more a gesture than anything though; he could always tell the second she was wet or poopy, even from across the house. At first you had envied him this immediate recognition, but there had been enough really bad diapers that had left Jungkook looking pretty green that now you thought your human sense of smell was maybe not such a bad thing. 

Together you went to the nursery. Despite Jungkook just spending the whole afternoon with Mi-Cha, you could sense his eagerness to still hold her. You felt the same way, desperate to keep that soft, warm little body close after your arms had been empty for that same time; you’d felt the emptiness even in sleep. Even now when you napped, you would sometimes startle awake, reaching for a baby you had dreamed was falling, only to realize no baby was there, and you wouldn’t have left Mi-Cha in a dangerous place to begin with.

So you motioned Jungkook to the glider, then curled up on his lap with Mi-Cha tucked in with you. The deep sigh from Jungkook left no secret how happy he was to have both his girls close. Both his girls. You melted every time you heard him say that. How silly of him to have doubted he could figure out a baby girl, as he’d admitted to you. Those fears hadn’t completely left him, but you knew and he tried to believe you that he’d figure out any other “daughter demands” just like he had changing a daughter’s diaper. He even had a little song he sang to Mi-Cha when he did it! Front to back, just like that; wipe wipe wipe, hush don’t gripe; clean the way, tummy to tail, and then put-a-new-diaper-on-quick-before-you-pee-on-me-again. 

Jungkook was right about one thing regarding Mi-Cha: her emotions were bright and loud and she didn’t hide them. She felt safe and comfortable and loved, you were certain that was why she was so forthright with her happiness, her impatience, and her tiny baby rage that sometimes poked out. Mostly though she was happy, and it showed in the steady little flick of that tail and the curve of her mouth into a sleepy smile as she chomped down on the pacifier Jungkook had finally been convinced would not doom her teeth for life before they’d even grown in. 

“She’s so perfect,” you sighed, an infinite refrain. “I think she’s even prettier now that we get to sleep sometimes.” Jungkook rocked you slowly and brushed his finger against Mi-Cha’s thigh, making her twitch and kick and curl closer to your chest, as if seeking protection. “Let her sleep,” you jokingly scolded.

“Ah, it’s boring when she sleeps, I think…”

“I know,” you admitted. “At least you got to see her all afternoon, I was just asleep and now she’s going to sleep.” Your low voices didn’t seem to bother your daughter at all; she was used to this, after all, being cradled by both her parents as she dozed off. Jungkook’s mother thought they were crazy to let the bedtime routine be so long and drawn out and maybe you’d regret it eventually, but right now, just holding her as she fell asleep was so perfect.

“You were up with her at four-thirty in the morning,” Jungkook pointed out. “After she was already up at one.”

“Yeah… someday when she’s all grown up, we should wake her up as much as she wakes us up.”

“She won’t think we’re as cute as we think she is,” Jungkook pointed out.

“That’s sort of the point of revenge.”

He chuckled and turned the glider slowly so you could see out the window, angled so Mi-Cha’s face stayed in the shadows. Sitting in this glider, watching the flowers erupt from their winter slumber during the early weeks home with Mi-Cha had been magical and surreal. You would never think of early spring the same way again. It would now always remind you of those early days of parenthood with Jungkook by your side. 

“I hope the flowers are still beautiful for her 100 Day celebration,” you mused. Jungkook’s parents would be back again next week and your grandparents were flying in to meet her for the very first time --later than they had hoped, after you grandfather had been too sick to travel after contracting some disease at the site of their latest sanctuary project. He’d pulled through fine but it had scared you; the party would be emotional for many reasons.

“Shhhh.”

“Huh?”

“You are stressed about it,” Jungkook observed. “I know. But it doesn’t matter. No one will notice the flowers because they will just notice Mi-Cha. And no one will care if the party isn’t perfect because it will be just because we’re together.”

“When did you get so wise?” you teased.

“I’m a father now, I’m supposed to be wise.” At your glare, he grinned, “I know you. I know you want to do things to show you care but she knows. I know. Everyone knows.”

“That’s rich coming from the man who gets her dressed for the runway just for a walk down the street,” you teased.

“She likes it,” he defended, carefully reaching around to gently pull the bow off their sleeping baby’s head so she could rest more comfortably. “I don’t like this one as much, I think it’s scratchy, but I think that’s why she likes it.”

“Do you think her ears are still dry?” you frowned, leaning in to look.

“I put the lotion on.”

“I know you did… maybe we should try an oil instead… they look good though. Maybe she just likes the bow,” you conceded. It amused you, thinking about Jungkook trying on different bows and hats and headbands for your infant daughter who couldn’t even sit up on her own. And then nodding as if she’d made her preference known. And then building an outfit around her choice. “You’re so cute, Jungkook.”

“I’m… whatever. I’m just-- it’s just whatever. I don’t mind bows, if that’s what she likes. Or whatever else she likes.”

“You’re not worried she’s going to be into fighting anymore?”

Jungkook tossed the bow over to the basket and answered, “Someday when the time is right, I’ll teach her just enough to make sure she never has to actually fight. Just enough to make someone stop if they’re bothering her. Just in case she’s like you and attracts trouble.”

“I don’t!” you defended. He grinned and kissed you breathless. “Unless you mean that you’re trouble. I sure attracted you.”

“It’s not a very good joke…”

“You’re a turd.”

“Don’t let our daughter hear that,” he playfully growled. “She has sensitive ears.”

You laughed and pressed your nose to his, your arms full of your daughter who’d melted into a warm little pile of mush when she’d fallen asleep, your heart full of love for both of these people.

“Is it as good as you dreamed after all?” you asked.

Jungkook’s furrowed brow could be felt against yours as he insisted, “You’re the dreamer, not me. I never can dream as good as things with you will be. I can’t dream good enough. Everything in our lives is… beyond.”

“Yeah,” you agreed before stealing one more kiss. “Everything in our lives is beyond.”

[henqtic]

𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲? || 𝐃.𝐌 

summary: You and your childhood friend Draco make the rash decision to runaway after the war and it changes your relationship and lives for the better.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: war, mentions of death, kissing, mentions of birth, pregnancy, parenthood, a five year old falling off of a broom (is that a warning?) Please contact me if there's more!

request: @fa-me- can you do a fix based on the song “The Story” by Conan Gray with draco? pretty fluffy if possible, i would like to not be in tears by the end of it🖐😃 

a/n- I had so much fun writing this and I did leave out some lyrics because this was supposed to be happy and not sad. Also in the song I’m pretty sure Conan and the girl were just friends but here they’re not going to be :) [lyrics are in bold]

+ Masterlist | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

gif creds

Now it's on to the sequel

About me and my friend

It was inevitable; the second wizarding war. The world was in the most literal way crumbling down and burning in fire, and all he was worried about was her- nothing else, just her.

Throughout their years at Hogwarts Draco and y/n had an odd relationship- if you would even call it that. They weren’t romantically involved in any way, shape or form, they were just childhood best friends that got a little too close at moments.

Whenever the question did come up of when they would put everyone out of their misery and just get together, it was answered with awkward laughter from both parties.

Both our parents were evil

Now here they were, panicking because they couldn’t find one another, because they were sixteen fighting in a war that was never meant for them, a war set up by their parents' elitist views.

No sane mother or father would've wanted this life for their child. Constantly looking over their shoulders, hoping that one of deadly curses that were flying around wouldn’t make contact with them like it had with their peers.

That young love that had been a safety net for the two teenagers through those dark times was slipping away and they desperately needed to find each other. Just to say it one time, before it was too late.

A flash of platinum blonde hair was all she needed to push through the crowd and sling herself into his arms.

“Draco I was so scared that I lost you and-” Your words were cut off by a soft pair of lips finding their way onto yours. The kiss was warm, the shared feeling of desperation pouring into it. Your hands ran through his hair trying to savor the moment before he abruptly pulled away. 

“I love you. I need you to know that before something may happen to us.” The confession came out rushed, almost un-comprehendible but then it clicked in your head, he finally said it.

His hands laid on your cheeks, eyes glued to your plump lips as you repeated the same three words back to him.

The black suit that he thought was appropriate to wear to war was still intact as he haphazardly led you both away from all the chaos into a secluded area.

If we worked and we saved

We could both run away

And we'd have a better life

“We fight on the right side and we run away.” The words of plea came as a surprise to both Draco and the disheveled girl in front of him. “We can’t just run-”

“Yes we can,” he said, cutting you off. “Aren’t you tired of living like this? We’re great students, we can find our own jobs and run away somewhere- away from this.” 

It started to make a lot more sense than it did ten seconds ago but you were still unsure about it. It was a radical idea and it probably wouldn’t work out, Merlin, he didn’t even think it would work out.

But it was worth a try right?

The wild that both families held on you was heavy and wasn’t easy to just pull away from.

“Yeah alright, we’ll run away, make a better life,” you repeated still in disbelief that you were going to go against your parents.

That’s just what you did, switch sides in the middle of the war. And fought alongside the people and magical creatures that were against Voldemort. And when it was time for you both to be called out to the other side by your parents...

y/n, Draco, come.

You didn’t. A shaky hand found its way to yours, lacing your fingers together tightly. It kept you both grounded, kept to the right side. 

And I was right

I wonder if she's alright

You ended up living in a small house in a muggle neighborhood for a while, it gave you time to breathe from the harsh stares of the wizarding world.

The judging eyes and remarks still followed when you would go to your job at the ministry, pursuing your dream in the study of magical creatures while Draco stayed home, finding a passion in Arithmancy.

The time you two had spent together as an actual couple and not as two teenagers scared of crossing an invisible line opened both of your eyes to what you were missing out on.

And even though it was pretty early, two years later Draco took the next step and got on one knee. The ceremony was inherently small, upon the agreement that only a few close friends should be of attendance. After that, you decided that it was best to try and reconnect with your families face to face and end the stalling monthly letters.

Both were glad to see you happy and healthy- for the most part- but were still upset as to why you would leave ‘without a single reason as to why.’

The birth of Scorpius Malfoy three years later had turned that house that you lived in, into a home filled with an untouchable joy.

And now you sat on a bench in the backyard, letting the June sun hit your skin, watching as your husband tried teaching a hyper five year old how to fly on his first training broom.

It was something you two argued on at first, scared that he would hurt himself- something that he was very prone to doing. But now that you saw how joyful it made them both, you hadn’t regretted the decision. The sight of wide grins glued onto their faces warmed your heart.

You realized that the experience of being away from the constant pressure of your parents had made you the absolute happiest. 

Especially witnessing Draco’s cheers of joy when Scorpious finally flew a half a mile on his own. Even if he wasn’t too far from the ground, it was still a great accomplishment.

Your hand instinctively went down to rub your enlarged stomach, another life growing and soon to be delivered in three months time. Through your eyes, your life was perfect as is. The family and the friendships that you had rekindled filled it so much.

Memories of Blaise and Daphne at your wedding reception sparked in your head. They had made a toast centered around the recalling of how you and Draco's actual first kiss was after the Yule ball when a mistletoe ‘mysteriously’ showed up. Turns out it was the antics of two fourteen year olds trying to get their friends together.

“Alright Scorp how about we take a break and you get some water? I need to talk to your mum,” Draco called out, interrupting your thoughts. The boy hurried back into the house not wanting to waste any time before they could go back and practice.

He rushed to sit next to you on the bench, a look of concern already creeping onto his face.

“Are you comfortable? Is it too hot out for you love? Or is it not hot enough?” The questions would have gone on if you hadn’t pressed your lips to his. The effect that you had over him seemingly never faded, the blush evident on his face when you pulled away.

“I’m fine darling stop worrying. I’m just really happy with the way our lives turned out,” you assured, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Even if you couldn’t see, you knew there was a clear smile on his face as he leaned down to press a kiss into your hair. “I love you and the family that we made- and are making.” His hand went over yours, the feeling of pride coursing through his veins.

You hadn’t had a chance to reciprocate the affectionate words before a loud crash sounded making you turn to the blonde in a grimace, sharing a knowing look.

ouch!

You craned your neck in an attempt to see him before Draco just shook his head and got up on his own.

“Stay there Scorp I’m coming!”

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[obscure-sentimentalist]

“He creeped me out. I’m not gonna lie.”, college au

[Flinging this into the void two years later...]

Prompt from the drabble challenge list

Part II of the Merlyn Boys College AU; sequel to this

Harvard, October 2003

“So that’s spinach, chicken, peppers, and… ham,” Tommy lists off slowly, gaze fixed on the slice of pizza in transit to Connor’s mouth. 

“That it is,” Connor returns levelly. Without lowering his hands or meal, he arches an eyebrow appraisingly at Tommy’s own selection of pepperoni, olives, and mushroom.

Said slice flops back onto the plate with a doughy splat as Tommy lifts greasy fingers in a show of surrender. “Hey, not judging,” he swears, before snatching a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. “Just an observation. Now, if it was something like pineapple and anchovies, we’d be having words.”

“Oh, no, that I only save for special occasions,” Connor deadpans, almost without thinking. He punctuates the declaration with an exaggerated bite of his (perfectly acceptable, thank you very much) choice of toppings.

Tommy just tilts his head backwards and drifts it back down in a slow nod. “I see.” The now crumpled and grease-stained napkin gets discarded onto the Formica tabletop so he can freely flip a finger between the two of them. “So, uh, does ‘finally figuring out why everyone thinks you’re someone you’re not and meeting your lookalike’ not count, or are we talking about special occasions, like if Ollie had stuck around?”

Any effort Connor had hoped to make to conceal his opinion on Serial Killer Haircut (fine, Oliver Queen, whatever) from Tommy goes right out the window as a particularly cheesy nibble of pizza immediately slips down his throat the wrong way at that question. The rest of the slice hits his plate mid-cough as Connor dives for the pile of napkins, nearly knocking over the dangerously full pitcher of water beside it in the process.

“I’m gonna take it that you meant the second one,” Tommy determines, seemingly unfazed by Connor’s chest-pounding attempt to dislodge the choking hazard without resorting to the full-on Heimlich. Calmly propping his left elbow up on the table, he drops his chin into his palm as Connor at last clears his throat and promptly snatches his water glass to guzzle its contents. “I somehow don’t think the first one would warrant such an explosive reaction. Ollie, on the other hand, has been known to have that kind of effect on people.”

“Wasn’t…” Connor starts, voice tight, only to collapse into another series of wheezes, this time set off by chugging his drink. “Didn’t mean that.”

It’s a little hard to see with his eyes still watering, but from what he can make out, Tommy is meeting the claim with an incredibly dubious expression. 

“Right. So you actually were feeling aggressively constipated on the way over here, and it just happened to be showing on your face every time you looked at Ollie? Because if so, I think that garbage,” his eyes twitch pointedly down to Connor’s abandoned pizza, “is going to solve the root problem in no time. I mean, it’ll probably cause a bunch of other problems for your dorm’s plumbing, but…” The sentence trails off as his mouth contorts into the facial equivalent of a shrug.

Connor levels a scathing glare back, but with puffy eyes and a final, hiccuping cough, he probably comes off about as intimidating as an inflatable pool floatie. 

Tommy doesn’t comment on it either way, and instead just sighs. “Look, you get mistaken for a guy enough times over a span of a few weeks, you start to get the idea of what kind of person he is,” he starts, dropping his now-empty palm to the table. He thinks better of the action a moment later, once he glances down and recalls that they’re in a late-night, hole-in-the-wall pizza joint frequented by college students of varying sobriety. Face screwed up in dawning disgust, he tries to rip his hand away, only for his skin to mysteriously stick to the laminate for a fraction of a second longer than it should.

(It’s long enough that Connor hastily glances down at his own haphazardly-dropped pizza slice to ensure that every inch of it is sitting firmly on the plate.)

Allowing himself a single full-body shudder for that unpleasant encounter, Tommy drops his freed hand into his lap and continues as if he hadn’t missed a beat. “And the impression I was getting from everyone who wanted to talk about biology classwork and then laughed me off when I tried to tell them they had the wrong guy was that: one, you’re really, really bad at being funny…”

A noise akin to an offended squawk escapes Connor’s throat at that. He’s not certain if he’s more put out by the slight—he does too have a sense of humor!—or by the utter disparity in their mistaken identity experiences. Although, maybe he should be grateful that his peers are more likely to humor what they think is a weak prank than they are to start swinging.

“...and two,” Tommy steamrolls over the complaint, “being a dick isn’t your default state. Though I’m sure you can be a colossal one when you feel you need to be.”

This time, not even the faintest exhale manages to eke its way past Connor’s lips before they press together in concession. He can’t exactly deny the truth of the assumption, and if Tommy’s carefree tone is anything to go by, that might have been a compliment rather than a criticism. 

(But it’s not like Connor’s going to ask to confirm it.)

“Is there a point to this observation?” he blurts instead, attempting to swerve the conversation back on track before Tommy finds other ways to playfully needle him. Hoping to conceal the discomfort brought on by being read so plainly, he folds his arms across his chest and slumps against the overstuffed red vinyl booth-back.

Much like a magnet of identical polarity is naturally repelled, Tommy immediately thumps back in his own seat, though his body language remains loose and open. “I just figure that you and Ollie, you guys didn’t get off on the right foot—that he earned the stink-eye in some way,” he explains, waving his hand dismissively. “Plus, the fact that you tried to hide that you aren’t exactly missing him, for my sake, is pretty much the opposite of a dick move.”

He offers that closing reassurance with a genuine smile, though it’s tentative, falling just short of reaching his eyes. It’s as if Tommy wants to give Connor, a stranger with the same face, the benefit of the doubt and validate his feelings—negatively focused around Tommy’s lifelong best friend as they might be—but isn’t sure how that kindness will be met.

Which is… strange, Connor supposes, or at the very least unexpected. The pizza topping commentary and unfiltered reading of his personality had seemingly inked in the lines of Tommy that a series of mistakenly-delivered slaps (and implied extensive history of cahooting with Queen) had sketched out; a portrait of personal amusement, careless of others’ feelings, coming into definition. Tommy’s sincerity and (dare he say it) shyness are startling shadows and highlights to an image Connor had already accepted as two-dimensional, and he’s not yet sure what to make of that. 

“He creeped me out, I’m not gonna lie,” Connor allows, owning up to his distaste for Queen without speaking too critically. He scoots the ceramic plate of cooling pizza a bit closer to distract himself from having to meet (trust) Tommy’s earnest gaze just yet. “With the whole… skulking around the library thing, and the way he was smiling and making little digs, and the…” Snatching the crust with one hand, he flaps the other at the side of his head in a vague gesture and finally chances a glance up.

Further proof that his doppelgänger/not-so-evil maybe-twin is scarily on the same wavelength, Tommy immediately understands the motion and cringes sympathetically. “Yeah, I’ve made enough of my own bad hair decisions to know that saying anything will only find a way to bite me in the ass, but, uh…” He brings a fist to his lips and clears his throat loudly. “I know what you mean. And I can’t imagine that it made for a good first impression either.”

Connor acknowledges the truth of that statement with only a little hum, using his second attempt at eating his pizza as cover for forgoing a verbal response. If he keeps getting openings to speak freely about his instantly-sour opinion of Queen, he’s going to risk shifting into the foretold Colossal Dick Mode at some point or another; there’s surely a limit to Tommy’s friendly understanding, and Connor is not in any rush to discover it.

Swallowing just as carefully as he’s selected his next words, Connor lowers the remains of his pizza back to the plate. “It… could have been better,” is all he admits, before discreetly gritting his teeth and grudgingly yanking the conversation into a hard swerve. “But if he hadn’t shown up, I’d still be at the library and tearing my hair out over everyone calling me by the wrong name. Qu- Oliver knew we needed to meet, and wouldn’t let the books keep me a second longer.” He punches out a breath of laughter at the last statement, silently hoping that it doesn’t sound as forced as it is. 

“Huh,” is Tommy’s oh-so-helpful response to the entire spiel. It’s a neutral noise—completely unclear to Connor’s ears whether it’s surprise over that turn of events or disbelief in his thin veneer of gratefulness or something else—and Tommy fails to offer any context. Instead, he merely picks at a stringy glob of cheese to drape it over the center of his pizza slice, all the while keeping an expectant eye on Connor.

Strangling a sigh before it can form in his lungs, Connor scrounges up whatever other neutral things he can say about Queen in order to comply with the wordless prompt. “He mentioned you two had already talked about making a pizza run, which was his rationale for bringing me along—it wasn’t like I was trying to barge in on your plans. And I…”

Trailing off, Connor squeezes his eyes closed and sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. If Tommy can recognize and appreciate the accommodation Connor was making for him, then it’s only fair that Connor reciprocates that kindness.

“...I didn’t mean to make you choose between your best friend and your stranger doppelgänger,” he finally gets out, tying off the words with a deep exhale. His eyelids are slower to lift, and even once they have, Connor’s gaze is content to meander over the tabletop in avoidance of Tommy’s. “You and I could have just rescheduled and met up another time, or any hard feelings could have been checked at the door so all three of us could cram in here. You didn’t need to kick him out just because of me.”

There. Said and done.

And now that it is, it slowly dawns on Connor that said kicking-out should have been his first clue—his first glimpse of something more to Tommy than those secondhand reactions suggested. 

Once the shock dissipated from mirrored faces following Queen’s big reveal maneuver, Connor had anticipated Tommy’s official request that he come along in search of pizza. To an extent, he’d also anticipated the teasing and easy banter of two lifelong friends that scored the trip across campus, with Tommy’s scattered questions to Connor treated as disruptions that Queen was quick to rectify.

Tommy stopping short on the sidewalk across from their destination was less foreseen. The heavy clap of his hand on Queen’s shoulder and ever-so-gentle reminder that his friend owed a phone call to someone named Thea was a jolt off the tracks. Then with a quick glance spared for Connor and a hesitant laugh over limiting the pizza party to a VIP list of those with identical faces, Tommy had diverted the evening onto a completely new rail—all to ensure Connor would be comfortable, even if it came at his own expense.

“Ah. There’s the start of that doctor’s ego.”

The comment cuts through Connor’s thoughts like a diver into the water, jerking him back to the present and sending him scrambling to refocus. When he finally shakes his eyes out of screensaver mode and glances across the table, it’s to find Tommy staring back at him with an amusedly pensive expression. 

“I’ve always wondered how that happens—like, is it something that doesn’t kick in until you’re practicing, or does that attitude crop up earlier?” he muses, reaching casually for his water glass. “It’s hard to get a clear answer, because the only other wannabe doctor I know is Carter Bowen—patron saint of douchebaggery—and I figure that he’s an exception and shouldn’t be counted. But you, though…” Tommy lets out a low whistle. “You got a bad, early-onset case, bud.”

Connor is too flummoxed by the whiplash-inducing return of the frank, pointed jabs that he can’t help the fishlike drop of his lower lip. “Excuse…”

“I mean, hey, it’s not like I know Ollie and how he can be sometimes,” Tommy goes on lightly, drumming his fingers on the side of his glass. “Or realized that this little Q&A would be pretty hard to do if I kept getting tugged over to a different conversation every third sentence. Nope, this one-on-one was set up special for you, no other reason at all.” He lifts the rim of the glass to his lips and takes a long sip, eyebrows shot high in expectation.

He doesn’t have too long of a wait for the desired result, as Connor deflates like an untied, sputtering balloon once he finally hears what Tommy’s saying—something he’s failed to do this whole time.

Connor has only been seeing Tommy as he’s defined by the people around him: first by forming an expectation based solely on the unflattering picture painted by mistaken identity mishaps and a questionable friendship, and then assuming Queen’s exclusion was a selfless sacrifice made for Connor rather than a deliberate choice from which Tommy would benefit. Believing so strongly in those assumptions makes Connor no better than their peers—quick to laugh or deliver a smack, but outright refusing to hear what’s actually being said.

It’s far past time for Tommy to speak for himself, and for Connor to listen.

“You know, we’re talking a lot about a guy who’s specifically been removed from this conversation,” he points out, leaning forward to drop both elbows onto the table. One hand pops up in a placating gesture as he adds, “And, uh, we’ ve made this more than enough about me, too. What I really want to know is what exactly you’ve been doing that would warrant me getting slapped for correcting people.”

Connor processes that he’s contradicted himself in the span of two sentences quickly enough to grimace his way through the last few words, but not soon enough to cut Tommy’s fond, tired smirk off at the pass.

“Like I said: really bad case,” Tommy laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for the water pitcher to refill his glass.

“Last thing and I’m done!” Connor promises, hoping that the sincerity bleeds into his voice. He twirls the pitcher so the handle faces away from him and nudges it closer to Tommy’s waiting hand. “I have been suffering for months from people inexplicably introducing their palms to my face, and the mark isn’t fading.” Turning his head to give a better view, Connor jabs his index finger at his left cheek to emphasize the outline of fingers that surely still lingers.

“See, I thought your face was just like that.” It’s said with such innocence over the clatter of ice cubes into an empty glass.

Connor’s glare is more menacing than a pool floatie’s this time. “Is that supposed to be a comeback? We have the same face, asshole.”

It shouldn’t make his breath catch in awe to say that, not when said identical face is in clear view on the other side of the booth. Maybe it’s just the fact that Connor can say it—confidently, definitively, knowing he was right and not the only one—that gets to him.

(And maybe it’s a little bit because of the critical question that neither of them have dared to touch on just yet; the why and how of the matter that could trigger a seismic shift in both of their lives.) 

While Tommy doesn’t react so overtly, his smile—small, soft, but by no means weak—makes it clear that he feels much the same. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

“Good, great, glad we got that settled,” Connor returns, clapping his palms together. “Now how about that explanation?”

(They’ll have to address that unspoken unknown in due time, of course. But for now, finally looking beyond the mirror image and shoddily-formed first impressions to see Tommy is Connor’s highest priority.) 

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Problem With Birthdays

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You want to enjoy your birthday with Loki, but your fears that one day no one will love you are keeping you from having fun. Warnings: a bit angsty; fluff A/N: 1/2 Happy Birthday to my best friend @lokistan​!! 🥳🥳🥳 May you have the most wonderful day ever. As requested, here’s a birthday fic for you! I hope you enjoy ❤️         2/2 This is technically a sequel to The Secret Admirer, but you don’t have to read that to enjoy this 😄

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Darling?” Loki called, walking into the common room where you were on the couch, book in hand.

“Right here, my love. What’s up?”

“We need to talk.” He came and sat beside you as set your novel down. He took your hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your knuckles. “About your birthday.”

“You know how much I love talking to you, but I actually have to go meet Carol and Lauren in the lab. Talk later?”

“You are avoiding this,” he replied simply as you stood up. “You know you can tell me anything, right my darling?”

You stood before him and fidgeted with your charm bracelet, a nervous tic you’d picked up ever since you started wearing it. It had been a gift from Loki back when he’d been your secret admirer, not your boyfriend. You were beyond happy with how things had worked out, and your relationship was the most pure, perfect thing you’d ever experienced. Still, doubts filled your mind. You’d never dared hope he was actually your secret admirer those many months ago, but you’d fantasized that he was. It was an understatement to say you’d been pleasantly surprised when he came clean. The smile he’d given you that night was perhaps the most radiant one ever.

“I know,” you finally replied. “Just, later. Ok?”

“As you wish.”

He pulled you back down for a kiss before letting you go to the lab. He had a feeling you’d made no plans to meet up with your friends, but if you wanted to go, he’d never hold you back. And that extended to if you wanted to leave the relationship, which is what he feared was happening now. With a sigh, he stood, too. He had a party of sorts to plan. Nothing big, just a small dinner for the Avengers. He knew that’s what you would want, considering how you seemed to wish to avoid anything to do with your birthday in the first place.

Meanwhile, you arrived at the lab where your two best friends were testing a new invention. You smiled as Lauren, Tony’s newest lab assistant, tested what you could only figure were jet pack boots of some kind. Kind of like the ones on the Ironman suit, but disguised to look like normal shoes. Carol flew beside her, making sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself. Captain Marvel was in between intergalactic missions at the moment and was staying at the Tower to help keep an eye on things here on Earth. You didn’t know what it was about the two of them, but the three of you just clicked, and were now an inseparable trio.

“Hey! What’s up?” Lauren greeted once she had both feet planted firmly on the ground again.

“You look upset. Everything ok?” Carol asked, propping her elbows on one of the lab tables.

“Relatively ok, I guess,” you replied, playing with your bracelet again. You were holding the horse charm in between your thumb and forefinger. Loki had given it to you as a gift, a reminder of when he’d confessed his feeling in a horse drawn carriage. “Just not looking forward to tomorrow.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Carol said. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s silly.”

“Look at me,” Lauren said, gently gripping your arms and giving you a light shake. “Don’t say that. Your feelings always matter; they’re not silly.”

“Thank you,” you said. “That means a lot to me. But, really, it’s alright.”

“Fine. But we’re here if you need us,” Carol said as they captured you in a group hug.

As you thanked them again, you could only hope that tomorrow would come and go without much fanfare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you woke up so cozy in your bed, you didn’t want to get up. Maybe you could while away your birthday in bed, pretend you were sick. But, no. You knew that would only push celebrations back, not stop them.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki said, knocking on your door. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” you called in reply. “Come in.”

“Happy Birthday, my sweet,” he greeted, walking in. He sat next to you on your bed and planted a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered close to your skin as if he was hesitant to let you go, as if he thought he’d never be allowed to kiss you again. You looked up, your nose brushing against his, and kissed him on the lips. He smiled. “And how are you doing today?”

You’d never actually told him what was wrong yesterday. You wanted to talk to him, you really did, but you worried that by telling him your fears, they would come true.

“I’m ok, I guess.”

“Just ok?” he gasped. “Well, I know what will make that better.”

He waved his hands and trays of foods came flying in. There was bacon and pancakes and pastries and fruit bowls and just about everything else you could want. Honestly, it was far more than you could eat, but you definitely planned on sampling everything. You beamed at Loki, hugging him as he pulled you onto his lap.

“Breakfast in bed, darling?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, please,” you grinned back.

You sat for a while longer, eating and watching your favorite show. Eventually you decided you might as well get up and face the day. Loki left to go make the final preparations for dinner while you showered. A little less than an hour later, you reluctantly got out of the warm water, and sat on your bed once more in a robe, just staring at a wall. You don’t know how long you stayed there for, but it took a great effort to stand up and get dressed.

Once you had on your comfiest pants and favorite sweater, you tried to leave the room. You ended up flopping down on the bed again. You wanted to spend the day with your friends, not to mention Loki, the love of your life, but your worries were petrifying you.

“Is everything ok in there?” Loki asked, at your closed door once more.

“Sort of.”

“May I come in?”

You got up and opened the door for him. If only it was as easy to do that metaphorically as it was literally. He gently cupped your cheeks, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin, an unasked question in his eyes. You looked down, unable to bear disappointing him. It hurt you to shut him out like this; you’d always been honest with each other. You gave him a shy smile as he carefully tilted your head up and kissed you again.

“I, uh, I guess I promised we’d talk,” you said.

“You did, but I will not hold you to it if you are uncomfortable sharing.”

Gosh you loved this man. “I want to talk, it’s just...” you sighed, and pulled him back over to the bed to sit again. “Birthdays are supposed to be a day to celebrate, right?”

“Indeed they are.” He softly caressed the side of your face, looking very much like he wanted to kiss all your troubles away. “Because we all love you.”

“Well, that’s just it,” you whispered, your voice soft as you turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes. “What if one year everyone realizes that they don’t love me? Then I’ll be spending every year, every day, every minute alone. I... I don’t want to lose you.”

Loki held you to his chest as you began to sob, wiping the now fallen tears from your cheeks. He cooed and kindly shushed you as you got it out of your system. You’d held it in so long you’d grown numb to the pain, but now you were feeling it full force.

Loki moved your sweater out of the way and kissed your shoulder, moving up your neck and to your wet cheeks. His heart broke a little bit as he tasted the salty drops on his lips. He so wished you hadn’t kept this bottled up, that you’d shared with him. Perhaps it was a little selfish, but he did also feel a spark of happiness at the moment of your confession since he thought you were about to say you didn’t love him anymore. Your thoughts were quite the opposite, in reality, and he cursed himself that he let you think that way for even a fraction of a second.

“I will always love you, darling,” he said as your cries slowly came to a stop, leaving hiccups in their wake. “And when I say always, I truly do mean forever and beyond the constraints of time. It was like a dream when you told me you felt the same way. My very own heavenly angel loved me, too. My heart, my soul, my passion, my darling. My love. Your insecurities are valid; everyone is allowed to have them. But I beg of you, come to me next time. We can work through them together.”

You sniffled to stop another set of tears. “I know. Thank you, Loki. I was worried that if I told you, you’d realize that you didn’t love me. But I know you do, really. And I love you so, so much, too.”

He pulled you down to be laying on the bed and wrapped his body around yours. When you were feeling better, you chatted a bit, keeping the conversation light after the heavy topics you’d been discussing. You finally told Loki you felt ready to go out and face the day, which was more then halfway over at this point. He checked to make sure you were certain of your decision, and after a kiss to each of your eyelids and the tip of your nose, escorted you out of your room.

“Happy Birthday!” the Avengers greeted you as you made your way into the common room.

Loki had taken your desire to keep celebrations simple to heart. There was a banner and some balloons, but that was it in the way of decorations. As for the team, they gave you kind hugs and thoughtful gifts, but no one made too big of a deal out of it. No shouting or crazy partying, just some quality time spent doing puzzles and playing board games and watching movies. Carol, Lauren, and a few of the others even hilariously recreated some of your favorite scenes from the films you’d picked. Of course, they were all making sure you knew you were loved and appreciated, too. In other words, it was perfect.

Dinner and dessert, your favorites served at both, were also amazing. You spent the time reminiscing and sharing stories from your childhood. Soon after, you retired to your room. After you got changed into your pajamas for the night, you met Loki in the living room of your large quarters. He was fiddling with something you couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s that you got there?” you asked, perching on the couch next to him.

“It is another gift for you, my darling,” he replied, presenting it to you.

You opened up the small pouch he’d handed you and pulled out a charm. It was a key, and you immediately added it to the growing collection on your bracelet.

“Thank you, my love,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

“And that is not all,” he grinned as you looked at him with excitement and surprise written plainly across your features. He pulled out a charm of his own on a necklace, hidden by his shirt. It was a heart with a lock carved into it. You looked again at the key and realized it would fit perfectly. “I want you to know that you have the key to my heart. I love you, my angel.”

“And I will protect it with everything I have in me. Because I love you, too, Loki. More than I can ever say.”

“Happy Birthday, darling.”

It may take some time, but you think you could grow to like your birthday. At very least, as Loki kissed you again, you knew you never had to worry about being left alone. No, not when Loki would be there for you until the end of time and every moment after.

[janiedean]

more of the tyrion/sansa mortician/hairdresser saga

cc @meri-vaahtoaa HAVE YOUR EXTRA DOSE OF IT U___U I HOPE IT’S TO YOUR TASTE U__U

sequel to this fic here, warning for... well, an embalming happens offscreen and no one is very sympathetic towards the dear deceased aka littlefinger I guess X°D *drops and crashes*

Thing is, Tyrion had absolutely planned to go back to Sansa Stark’s shop. He had been bracing up to see her again and if he caught himself glancing at his hair in the mirror more than usual, well, can you blame him, since he actually likes it for the first time in his life?

And then he sees her again a whole week after he walked into her shop, at his damned internship, with her mother, because -

“See,” the woman — how did she introduce herself, Catelyn, yes, Catelyn, “my sister should have been here but — she didn’t take her husband’s death that well.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” his boss, Oberyn, says with all the professionally he doesn’t usually have when off the clock.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Catelyn goes on as Sansa notices him standing behind Oberyn and tentatively waves — he waves back —, “I mean, let’s just say that, uh. I… didn’t have a great relationship with him and my husband loathed him, and in between us he poisoned her against the entire family, so it’s not like anyone was that sad about his passing, but anyway. What I meant, if it was for me I’d have just told you that we’d do a closed casket funeral, but my sister is really adamant that it’s not, so I suppose that he’ll need to be embalmed.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Oberyn says.

“I don’t know,” Catelyn replies, “I find it kind of creepy. Anyway, I absolutely don’t want to pay extra for the coffin, so —”

“I think,” Oberyn says, “that maybe I should show you what options you have making sure you’re aware of the cheapest ones, and my apprentice over there can start having a look at the corpse? Actually, Tyrion?”

“Yes?”

“I think you can handle embalming this one corpse, it’s not the kind you have to completely reconstruct from scratch and it could be a good exercise. That good?”

“Uh, of course —”

“Then — Mrs. Stark, if you’d follow me?”

Catelyn does and he’s left alone with Sansa.

“How interesting,” she says, “I had no idea this was where you worked.”

“I didn’t tell you now, did I?”

“No, but — well, they’re kind of — I mean, I wouldn’t want to say friends but we’ve come here for anyone who died in the family? I think, at least. Anyway, honestly, no one except my aunt liked Uncle Peter. You can relax when you work on him.”

“Well,” he laughs nervously, “at least when I come to your shop before my final I’ll have had a lot of practice, thanks to him. But — well. I should be done tomorrow morning at latest, isn’t the wake tomorrow afternoon?”

“Oh, yes,” Sansa says. “I’ll see you then, I suppose.”

Then she winks and goes to join her mother.

Well.

Time to go check on his first corpse, Tyrion thinks, and heads for the embalming room downstairs.

— —

Indeed, Mr. Baelish died of a sudden heart attack, which means that while his face is still half-contorted in a not exactly pleasurable expression, it’s not the kind of body you have to manually reconstruct. He only starts on it the next morning, no point in doing it a day before the actual wake, and he’s done in two hours, early enough to dress the body in the suit his wife sent over — extremely pricey, coming from money Tyrion can see that, but also exceedingly black and he’s not even sure it looks good on the man, but what does he know and what does he care? He’s just placed the eyecaps under the man’s eyelids when someone knocks.

“It’s open,” he says, and — “Sansa?” He blurts as she tiptoes into the room.

“Yeah,” she says, sheepishly, “I asked Mr. Martell if I could come say hi to you. Uh, I see you really pumped him full of carcinogen?”

Tyrion snorts. “Well, yes. Gotten the blood out, got all the right fluid in, made sure to un-set rigor mortis and so on.”

“For what it’s worth,” she says, “it looks like you are cut for this job. Sure, his hair doesn’t have the best cut, but — well. He kind of always looked at me creepy, so I never offered a free cut and I’m not going to start now. Will you be at the wake, just for science?”

“Yeah,” Tyrion nods, “that’s… I mean. I could not be, I’m not an official employee, but.”

“But?”

He figures he might as well go and say it. She did say she was going to put a move on him, didn’t she?

“But,” he says, “I understood you will be and I’d quite like to see you again.”

“Oh,” she smiles, delighted, “then by all means. Do come to the wake. I’m actually looking forward to it, now.”

Then she waves at him and leaves the room.

Tyrion is not going to faint and fall off his damned chair. He does have a dignity.

— —

“Heads up,” Oberyn tells him later, as they ready the room for people to walk inside in half an hour, “I absolutely do forbid actual employees from being unprofessional on the job, but you aren’t an official employee.”

“… Was — why are you telling me this?” Tyrion blurts.

“Because I’ve seen how Miss Stark looks at you and how you look back at her,” he shrugs, “and I certainly won’t begrudge you for being unprofessional, if you choose to be.”

Then he winks, too.

God.

God, has he just said Tyrion could —

He did.

Oh, from the way he’s grinning, it’s obvious he did.

Fuck.

He thinks he needs a moment or fifteen. And he could do with a drink, but — yeah. Not now.

Still —

He has no idea what’s going to happen the moment this wake begins, but he’s actually kind of fucking looking forward to it.

What the hell is his life, he wonders, and then the first people start knocking — early, of course — and he schools his face into a semblance of professionalism.

Or at least he tries to.

— —

“Well,” Sansa says one hour later, “this certainly has been something.”

Considering that her aunt broke down in tears over Mr. Baelish’s casket, then her son also broke out in tears because she was miserable and she was ignoring him, then he started screaming about how much he always hated Mr. Baelish anyway, then the aunt lost her shit at him and Oberyn had to calm her down, then some of Mr. Baelish’s friends were adamant in saying that he certainly had never tried to fuck with not paying his taxes which apparently Ned Stark is absolutely sure of and that turned also into a half-fight and then the aunt started arguing with Mrs. Stark about how the casket was too cheap for such a wonderful man and Tyrion is nowhere near sure it’s over yet…

“It has,” Tyrion says, wishing he could have a beer like most of the guys in this room, but technically he’s on the clock. Now that wouldn’t look very good, if anyone noticed, and honestly, he doesn’t want to get noticed by anyone else. “Also, I hope this doesn’t mean i can’t come get my hair done in three days.”

“Of course,” Sansa smiles, “I’d be delighted to have you. I did have plans, for when you did come.”

“Oh,” Tyrion feigns, “did you?”

“Maybe,” she replies, slowly, looking down at him, “if your employer has a storage room, I could show you some of them?”

“Well,” he says, “I don’t have a storage room, but.” He nods towards the stairs going down.

He’s kind of sure she’ll say no, and of course she wouldn’t, he just asked —

“Actually,” she grins, “lead the way.”

He swallows.

He does.

— —

Two minutes later, he’s sitting on the stool he used during the embalming process and he has his hands on Sansa’s face as she leans down slightly and she crashes her mouth against his, kissing him hard, her fingers grasping at his hair and tugging at it and he groans back into her mouth, his tongue slipping inside it, and she moans and —

“Well,” she says, “I absolutely don’t regret it.”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“You kiss really well,” she replies, and dives in again, her tongue moving against his, curling gently and tracing his teeth before she kisses him harder, and fuck but she knows what she wants and it’s just making him want to tug her closer and so he does and —

“Just so you know,” he breathes when they part, “Oberyn informed me I can be as unprofessional as I like until he’s not paying me for my services.”

“Does it mean we can do this while they fight their way through the wake?” Sansa grins.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, we can.”

“Splendid,” she smiles wider, and then her mouth is on his own again and Tyrion isn’t going to give a single fuck about the fact that he just kissed her in the damned embalming room.

He can tell her the cool facts about it later, he supposes, and then proceeds on kissing her again and again and again, ignoring the mess upstairs.

Honestly, if this is how his internship is starting, he thinks he’s going to enjoy this job a lot —

Though not as much as he’s enjoying the moment right now. Not at all.

End.

[magnhild]

Before the Dawn didn’t ‘retcon’ Sun- an explanation from an actual writing major

Since the release of Before the Dawn, the sequel to RWBY’s After the Fall, I’ve seen a lot of different takes on it, but there’s a consistent one that it completely and utterly absurd- the idea that Sun Wukong’s persnality was ‘retconned’ for the book. The idea is, quite frankly ridiculous.

Before I get into why this take is so stupid, let me first explain what a retcon actually is, seeing as this fandom has so little understanding of the word. Retroactive continuity, often shortened as ‘retcon’ is a literary device that ignores or outright contradicts something already established in a work’s canon. For example, one actual retcon in RWBY would be the DC comics, while being canon, showing Ruby talking in full scentences shortly after Summer’s death, when Yang previously stated in the show that Ruby could barely talk when it happened.

A retcon is not something being explained differently or adittional information being given towards soemthing, even if these other details hadn’t been come up with to begin with. Salem’s backstory, for example, is not a retcon of the show’s opening narration, because not only is the opening narration very simplied so that it’s easier for the auidence to understand, but it’s also done by Salem herself, who would natutally not be telling the full story.

Now, the case with Sun is not the first time I’ve heard the claim that a character was retconned in the novels. While I don’t know if it’s at all a popular idea, one Redditor ranted at me in fury about how bad After the Fall must have been if it characterized Velvet as at all sassy because we’d never seen her that way in the books, ignoring my attempts to explain that, realistically, shy people are not going to be as shy around people they know well.

The couple of times I’ve shared these screenshots on Twitter were met with the same scorn I felt upon recieveing such responses (espeiclaly since the last comment was posted around two weeks after the rest of the conversation). So, when people failed to see that the situation with Sun was the same, it surprised me.

People claim that BTD characterized Sun completely differently as he is in the show. This is...weird, but I can slightly understand why people would jump to the conclusion that the personality he has in the book is somehow different to his personality in the show.

The first thing of note is that Sun still very much exhibits the personality traits that he’s known for; the positive ones. The very prologue of the book shows that, even in a fight, he’s still cheerful, easygoing and goofy, and we see several moments of this throughout the entire book. The second thing is that 99% of his scenes in the show are with Blake, who he has (or had) a literal crush on. Of course he would act differently around her and her friends than he would around his team, or people he didn’t care as much about. Right away, this shows that his personality was not contradicted and was, thus not retconned. But, of course, I have more to say than that.

The first big complaint regarding something that was indeed added in the book- or, at least, that we didn’t see in the show (given how Sun is not at all a character of focus) is that he’s shown to be angry and on-edge at certain points. And yes, this is not soemthing we saw of him in the show, but it’s also not out-of-character, and very easily understandable. Sun returned to his team expecting everything to be fine and dandy after a quick apology for leaving them, so when they don’t instantly forgive him and are still angry with him, he doesn’t understand, and thus becomes angry with them in return. He had an idea in his mind of how things would go, and when this didn’t go to plan and he continued to be confronted on his flaws, he can’t help but be a little salty about being treated this way by the people he’s known the longest among the main cast. For him, it’s a personal issue. The only reason we never saw him this angry in the show is because nothing ever personally affected him. He had no reason to be truly angry at anything because they were Blake’s problems, not his, and while he would natually want to help her out, he didn’t have any personal feelings towards the matter. But his team are supposed to be his friends, and here they are, not forgiving him after he apologized and everything. In his mind, he was being critizied even though he thought he’d fixed the problem with a simple apology.

The second big complaints are those of how Sun’s not-great relationship with his team throughout most of the book are contradictory to the last time we saw him in the show. People thought that his acknlowedgement of his shortcomings as a leader meant that he was going to be an instantly better one after the fact. These people fail to realize two major problems with this- the first being that there’s no rushing personal improvment. It’s very weird to me that people thought that Sun could instantly become a better leader when he was such a bad one in the first place. The second problem is that Sun, despite his name, is not the brightest bulb, and I say this in the nicest way possible. It’s made clear by both the show and the book that, while he acknowledged that he shouldn’t have ditched his team for several months without explanation, he still failed to realize the seriousness of his actions, or how the team dynamic was affected when he came back and took over again from Scarlet’s temporary leadership. As mentioned in the above paragraph, Sun thought that he could fix everything with a simple apology, and that it would absolve him of all wrongdoing. But more importantly, but the end of the book, he has realzied the weight of his negligence and that he needs to work harder to gain back respect from his team. And yet, critics ignore this and seem to this he acts badly throughout the whole book with no change in behaviour, when this couldn’t be further from the truth.

The third complaint, and the most absurd to me, is that Sun’s dismissiveness of serious situations and regular insensitivity in the book are out of character. Excuse me, but...did we watch the same show??

Perhaps it’s easy to forget because we haven’t seen him in show for a while, but these are two of his core personality traits, especially earlier on in the show. It seems that the fanon depiction of Sun as a sweet and loveable himbo who can do no wrong has caused a lot of people to forget his very prominent flaws, but Sun has always been this way, from as early as Volume 1. He treats serious situations as a joke or bit of fun, and he is constantly making insensitive comments, even to Blake, who he likes. Just to show a few, with replies from Blake for context regarding the second two:

From Black and White:

From Of Runaways and Stowaways:

From Menagerie:

Even in situations where he isn’t outright insensitive, he still frequently exhibits a struggle to read the room. He fails to understand why Team RWBY don’t want him and Neptune coming with them, he fails to fully understand why so many faunus take issue with humans despite being a faunus himself, and he fails to understand why stalking Blake across a continent was a very, very bad and creepy thing to do, even if he had good intentions. In fact, he never even apologises for any of this, at least, not that we saw, so it’s enitely plausible that it’s not soemthing he’s learned from.

So the fact that he continued to demonstrate this insensivity in BTD is very much in-character. That has always been a part of his personality, even though it’s often played off as a joke.

With all that said, it really bothers me that people list what is, in objective truth, a deeper insight into Sun as a character, as a flaw of the book. This is not a flaw. I’ve been studying writing through university for over four years, and believe me, showing that people act different depending on the situation or people they are around, as well as expanding upon any flaws they might have, is good writing. Something is not a ‘retcon’ because it contradicts your headcanon, or what you wanted to happen. That would be like if Nora were (not that I think she ever would be) confirmed cis and I called it a retcon because I headcanon her as trans. That would be stupid. 

After the Fall and Before the Dawn are honestly amazing books. They do have their issues, but character writing is far from one of them, and I would, in fact, consider it one of their biggest strengths. The way they flesh out both pre-existing and new characters, the way they can get us to love them within just 20-something chapters, is wonderful. They dive so deeply into even more minor characters, and make them all unique. So the idea that characters like Sun and Velvet were written badly because they were expanded upon and further characterized than they were in the show is an absolutely ridiculous concept, and one that I’ve hopefully changed people’s minds on with this.

Sun was not retconned. You guys just need to remember that the picture you paint of a character in your head is not always going to be the way a character is in canon. We’re not Adam defenders, people (at least, I hope not). 

Anyway. Read the RWBY books. I don’t care if you have already. Do it again.

[authenticcadence18]

“Ice Cream and Dances Pt. 2: Electric Boogaloo” Ch. 2

…

HELLO I AM POSTING A FIC UPDATE!!!!!!!! :DD

(Also a disclaimer! This fic uses the phrase “more than friends” a lot, and I wrote the first chapter before I realized that phrase can imply that friendships are lesser than romantic relationships. I want to make it clear that I do not see romantic relationships as inherently more valuable than friendships. Friendship is equally as important!!!! In the context of Phineas and Isabella, starting a romantic relationship would literally be them becoming “more than friends” because they would then be romantic partners AND friends. So, when I use that phrase in this fic moving forward, this is the meaning I’m choosing to interpret it as!)

…

“Ice Cream and Dances” by FrsdGirl

AO3

Previous Chapter

…

Isabella did her best to focus on inhaling and exhaling as Phineas led her back onto the dance floor.

“THIS IS A FRIEND THING.”

Once they found an empty spot, Phineas let go of Isabella’s hand and turned to face her, eyes wide and face flushed and GOODNESS HE LOOKED CUTE—

“HYPOTHETICAL. PLATONIC.”

Somehow, Isabella’s hands found their way to Phineas’s shoulders, though she wasn’t consciously aware of it until she felt him gently place his hands on her waist and oh goodness, friend thing or not, Phineas still wanted to dance with her and be close to her even though they’d already danced earlier aND—

“NO. STOP IT. KEEP IT TOGETHER, GARCIA-SHAPIRO.”

For about half a minute, they swayed platonically (or, well, somewhat platonically), neither saying a word.

Isabella just kept on focusing on breathing, on making sure she didn’t lean too close to Phineas, on keeping the desire to admit she’d actually love to be here with him on a real date at bay.

(She couldn’t have known Phineas was focusing on very similar things.)

Sure, she’d been nervous when they danced like this earlier. But those nerves were nothing compared to the nerves she was experiencing now because NOW, she had much more to worry about.

This was still strictly a friend thing, but it was also now a hypothetical more-than-friends-who-were-on-a-date thing. Except it WASN’T actually hypothetical in Isabella’s case, and she couldn’t help but hope that it might be more than hypothetical for Phineas as well but NO, she couldn’t give in to that hope, that was dangerous, so she needed to maintain a good balance between honesty and nonchalance about all this but that was difficult to do when he was so close and holding her and good grief , why’d she ever taken Buford up on his dare, and—

“Isabella? Are you okay?”

Isabella started and blinked, clearing her head of myriad worries with a shake to find Phineas staring at her with concern in his eyes.

“You kinda spaced out there for a second…” he continued. “And you looked a little worried. Is something wrong? Would you rather do something else?”

“NO!!!!!” Isabella shot back. A few nearby couples darted their heads in their direction, and she winced (the LAST thing she wanted to do was draw more attention to her and Phineas after their “grand entrance”).

“I...I just mean… I’m fine. Really.” She did her best to muster a smile for Phineas’s sake. “Just got lost in thought for a bit, you know?”

Phineas grinned, seemingly relieved to know that she was okay (though that could’ve just been Isabella reading into things). “Been there, done that!” he said.

Isabella chuckled a little, the image of Phineas hunched over his phone flickering in her memory. “I bet! You looked pretty lost in thought while Buford and I were dancing earlier. Who were you texting? Or were you testing out a new app?”

She felt a little more at ease now that she was talking with Phineas (as opposed to drowning in her own thoughts.)

“Huh??” Phineas blinked and bit his lip, shoulders briefly tensing up beneath Isabella’s hands. “...UH, I was just...texting Candace!”

“Really? It must have been an intense conversation, you looked so focused. Did she ask you for advice on a case assignment or something?”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t that… I just….uh” Phineas stared at her for a second and then up at the sky before continuing, “...I talk with her a lot these days. She’s got good advice.”

Isabella smiled and nodded in agreement in response.

(Perhaps she was a little curious to know what exactly Phineas had been discussing with Candace. But she knew he’d tell her if he wanted to, and she didn’t want to press him in case he didn’t.)

In the meantime, she could change the subject.

“So...have you been brainstorming any new projects lately?” she asked. “Other than the Stargazer 3000 of course, though if you want to talk about that I’m all ears!”

Phineas’s eyes practically ignited with excitement, making something flutter and glow in Isabella’s chest.

“Yeah!!!” he exclaimed. “Yesterday Ferb and I started experimenting with levitating carpets, like we did when we were kids! We want to see if we can replicate the effects over a smaller surface. But the technology isn’t quite ready yet…..”

…

“And THAT’S how we plan to modify our pre-existing anti-gravity quantum state lift disk technology to function effectively over a smaller surface area!! We’re planning on finishing up a prototype tomorrow and using it for a project.”

“Cool!! Can I come over and help out?”

“Of course! You never have to ask to come over, Isabella. I’ll—er, we’ll always be glad to have you around.”

“Thanks!”

Sometimes, it was easy to take living across the street from Phineas for granted. Because of that, Isabella was used to his boundless creativity and ideas, used to his uncanny ability to make the impossible possible...but she never wanted to lose sight of how extraordinary just being able to be used to those things was.

Moments like this reminded her that Phineas was brilliant .

And handsome.

….brilliantly handsome.

She cracked a smile at that last thought.

Phineas, fortunately, didn’t ask why she was smiling. He just smiled back...and then tilted his head, his expression morphing from fond to thoughtful.

“.....I just realized something,” he said. “We danced earlier.”

Isabella nodded, unsure where he was going with this.

“I guess, I just realized…. This—you know, us , dancing together—it doesn’t feel much different from how it felt before, when we were dancing but like...strictly as friends. ….uH! Not that we aren’t dancing strictly as friends right now! But...the hypothetical more-than-friends thing you were wondering about...you’d think it would make things feel more different….but if it’s us, it doesn’t. Not really.”

A blush sprawled across Isabella’s face. She’d been so wrapped up in listening to Phineas’s ideas, she’d almost forgotten about the hypothetical more-than-friends thing.

But Phineas apparently hadn’t forgotten.

“Uh—is that still a thing we’re doing?” he asked. “Pretending this is, like…a date? Or thinking about what it would be like if it were? Because I thought we were, but maybe I misunderstood, and if so that’s my bad—”

“No, you didn’t misunderstand!!!” Isabella replied quickly. “And, we can keep pretending this is a date. If you want.”

Phineas exhaled with a smile. “Cool!”

“Yup! Cool!” Isabella agreed.

Whew.

“And, you’re right,” she continued. “It doesn’t feel much different from how it did before...but it feels right. Talking with you feels better than just dancing in silence and staring at each other. I guess other couples might do that, but not us.”

“Yeah!!” Phineas let out a gentle chuckle. “I guess this means, if we were a couple, we wouldn’t act much differently from how we do now.”

“That’s what happens when you fall for your best friend, huh?” Isabella gave Phineas a knowing grin (she was basically a world-renowned expert on this subject). “Since there’s already a great foundation of friendship in place, romantic feelings can just develop naturally from what’s already there.”

….wait a second.

“….uH!!!” she choked, jerking back and clutching her hands to her chest on instinct. “Not that I’d know that personally!! Just, uh! In movies and stuff! That’s how it always goes. Yup. And we’re best friends, so! In this hypothetical scenario, we’d be best friends who fell for each other. Hypothetically.”

“Okaaayyyy time to divert the subject, Garcia-Shapiro.”

“People in movies have it easy….” she continued, trying her best to sound light and casual. “They meet and then, less than two hours later, BOOM! They’re together, true love for life!! Or...at least, they’re together until a sequel comes out and they’ve broken up offscreen just to get back together again….”

(The older Isabella got, the less patience she had for subpar romance movies and subplots.)

“Yeah….it’s a lot harder in real life...” Phineas agreed quietly. “Though, we’d be remiss if we didn’t talk about how it is hard for couples in TV shows. Like, Candace used to watch this show where the two main characters were in love but they didn’t realize it, and they kept on ALMOST confessing or getting together but didn’t actually get together until the very end. She’d get so frustrated with them, called them the ‘token will they/won’t they couple.’ There were a few steady side-couples though, Candace always used to say they made watching the show a little easier.”

He leaned in, a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye, and whispered, “She always used to compare herself and Jeremy to the main couple, but between you and me, the two of them are definitely more the ‘steady side-couple’ type.”

Isabella snickered. “ Oh yeah. They had it easy! They liked each other from the beginning, went on dates, started officially dating and then just...stayed that way.”

“If only it were always that simple….” Phineas sighed.

“If Candace and Jeremy are a steady side couple, what would that make us?” Isabella asked.

She flinched and quickly added, “uH!!! In a hypothetical sense!!!!”

Phineas blinked. “UM!!! That’s a great question!!!”

...was he blushing? Or was it a trick of the light?

“I guess, uh….we’d be the token ‘will they/won’t they’ couple?”

he rubbed the back of his neck and chucked slightly. “I mean, uh...in your hypothetical scenario, I’m not sure if we’d already be together or if this would be our first time doing something together. Together -together, I mean. On a date, you know. But, uh…….. Okay, let’s say I had feelings for you. Hypothetically. I’d have no reason to believe you returned those feelings.”

Isabella bit her lip and resisted the urge to roll her eyes into the nearest adjacent galaxy.

That was Phineas, alright. Oblivious as always.

“...BUT!!” he continued, “if you returned them without knowing about MY feelings, that would be a classic ‘will they/won’t they’ scenario. At least, according to Candace, anyway….yup….”

He suddenly seemed quite interested in staring at the grass beneath their feet.

Isabella followed his gaze and studied the ground for a bit, both to avoid pondering their hypothetical couple status any longer AND because, if Phineas was staring at the grass, it likely meant something interesting was happening down there.

...except nothing interesting was happening.

“.....okay, there’s no way the grass is interesting enough to warrant us staring at it for this long,” she mused. “You didn’t get hit with a dull and boring ray, did you?”

(She was mostly joking, but one could never be too careful in Danville.)

Phineas glanced back up at her and just stared at a moment before cracking a smile.

“Funny you should mention that….i was JUST thinking about the color beige….”

A moment passed.

And then he started to giggle. Quietly at first…and then not so quietly. His amusement was contagious, and soon Isabella was caught up in it too, the two of them grinning and laughing and as carefree as could be, all the awkwardness momentarily gone.

(The ruckus garnered some more stares, as the music playing was still pretty soft….but Isabella didn’t really care about that anymore. Having fun with Phineas was way more important than worrying about what others thought.)

Gradually, their laughter died down, with Phineas giving one final giggle and wiping a tear from his cheek before placing his hand back on Isabella’s waist, eyes shining with mirth.

Isabella gazed at him with a beaming smile.

There was just something about Phineas’s laughter, something about the way he smiled so brightly and expressed such genuine positivity so effortlessly, that had fascinated her and made her head spin since they were kids....and right now, it was hard to feel scared of expressing her true feelings for him.

(In other words, she was sooo in love with him right now.)

“You know….” she whispered with a flirtatious grin, “...if WE were dating—uh, on a date, within the parameters of the hypothetical more-than-friends thing!!!”

Good save, Garcia-Shapiro.

“...I’d have told you how handsome you look by now.”

“Huh?” Phineas blinked and glanced down at his outfit. “...Oh! Thanks! ...but, I’m not really dressed for a date….I wear this shirt at least once a week, and I haven't brushed my hair since this morning.”

“Aw, Phineas, you ALWAYS look handsome,” Isabella assured him. “No matter what. I mean, between the red hair and all your freckles and your acute nose and your SMILE, I’m not sure how anyone could NOT see how handsome you are…. And it’s not just your looks either, it’s your laugh and the way you can light up anyone and anything around you just by being you, it all makes you handsome, and……”

A bit of the happy fog in Isabella’s brain evaporated, allowing her to realize she’d been rambling to Phineas about how handsome he was for the past 20 seconds.

Oops.

“uH!!!! That is! That’s what I would say if this wasn’t a friend thing! But it is! So! Uh. You can just forget I said all that, if you want….”

She winced and clenched her eyes shut. That had been too much, she’d totally taken things too far, and now Phineas would probably be super weirded out...

Except.

One glance at Phineas revealed he wasn’t weirded out at all. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes soft, mouth slightly agape with what might have been astonishment.

He looked flustered, but in a good way.

And then...he smiled again. He smiled at her.

And it was a warm smile, a gentle smile, perhaps the most adoration-filled smile Isabella had ever seen and it was directed at her and doing funny things to her heart.

“Well….” he whispered softly, “...if this weren’t a friend thing, I’d have already told you you look as beautiful as ever…. But, since this is a friend thing and I haven’t told you yet….I’ll just tell you now. Isabella, you look as beautiful as ever.”

He grinned before continuing on in a manner similar to how Isabella had spoken a bit ago.

“I mean, between your eyes, and your hair, and the way your entire face seems to light up when you smile, and your adorable laughter, and the way you’re brave enough to say whatever’s on your mind…..I don’t think anyone else is as beautiful as you, Isabella. In every sense of the word.”

Isabella’s heart was going to pound right out of her chest. Or perhaps her knees would give out and she’d collapse right here, sprawled across the grass, running Phineas’s words and tender looks over and over again in her head for the foreseeable future.

It wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the rest of the evening.

But Phineas wasn’t done yet. He drew a hand back and then reached out for Isabella’s face...only to flinch and freeze in place.

“...uH!!” he breathed, hand still suspended in mid-air. “....if this were a date, I think I’d unconsciously reach out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear after saying all those things, just to see you better! ...would you be alright with that?”

Isabella didn’t trust herself to piece a coherent sentence together at the moment, but she knew she’d definitely be alright with that, so she nodded her head.

Phineas inhaled and tentatively reached out until his fingers were gracing Isabella’s cheek and then ever-so-gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

And once again, Isabella did her best to focus on inhaling and exhaling, on staying present in the moment…but this time, she wasn’t constantly reminding herself this was just pretend.

Because….what if it wasn’t?

Phineas was one of the most authentic people Isabella knew. Authentic to a fault, almost.

And that trademark authenticity, which she’d come to recognize in all of his inventions and actions and words in the years they’d been friends…..she recognized it now. In the hand cradling her face and the eyes gazing at her softly and the tender smile that hovered a mere foot or two from her own.

…perhaps Phineas had tried to ask her here on a date earlier.

Perhaps Buford had been right.

…

Thanks for reading!! And thanks as always to the lovely FrsdGirl for inspiring this fic and allowing me to write it and also for being just, the best ever, I adore you my friend🥺💕.

This isn’t the end btw, I know how this is gonna end, just haven’t written it properly yet!