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tkwrites · 10 days

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Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

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Title: Summer Decisions - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Highly emotional, angst. mild fighting, lots of anxiety, swearing, crying, fluff. If I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I’m back with some highly emotional goodness. This fic was halfway done for a long time until your overwhelming reactions to my WIP ask game really got me in gear to start writing again. I really like the way this turned out, and I hope you do, too. It's, like, 98% dialogue, so if that's not your thing, I won't be offended if you skip this one, but it is setting up all of our off-season fics.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Summer Decisions

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“My parents want to know if you want to come to our family reunion over the 4th of July. It’s in New Hampshire.”

“Oh,” she said, voice quiet.

“Is that not okay?”

“It’s just a big step,” she said, “meeting your whole family.”

“I’m meeting your family in June, aren’t I?” he asked.

They’d discussed him coming to visit when she went home for a few weeks after school. Were it not for the Canucks making it into the playoffs, she would have bought a ticket for the Monday after her classes would be done. Instead, she pushed her visit back until mid-June, wanting to be in Vancouver to support him through the entirety of their run, however long it may be.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

It was a little strange to her how comfortably serious they were, but she couldn’t imagine life with Quinn any other way. It was that fated belonging she’d talked about so much when they first met. Even still, it was a little jarring to think about him meeting her family or meeting his before they even hit the six month mark.

The phrase, ‘when you know, you know,’ never made sense until she met him. She knew, and even though it felt too fast and scary sometimes, she knew it would all turn out okay.

“So we’ll fly out from Van, what? The night before?”

“I’ll have to fly out from Michigan.”

“Michigan? Why?”

“I thought I told you we train in Michigan in the summer.”

“You did, but I thought… I thought maybe that changed?”

“Why?”

“Because of us?” she gestured between them.

“I mean, I’d love for you to come with me.”

“I can’t do that, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just pack up and move to Michigan. I still have my research work, and if I’m not working or in school for more than 6 weeks in a quarter, it violates my education visa. Not only will I have to move back to the States, I won’t be able to finish my degree.”

“Then I’ll fly you out every weekend.”

Pricked, the old wound split open, and she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice, “so it’s up to me to fly to you?”

Shit. He hadn’t taken her schedule into account again. “Sorry, no. Of course I’d come here, too.”

The annoyance still fresh in her mind she found herself asking, “why do I have to remind you my time matters for you to take it into account?”

Quinn winced. “I know your time matters. I’m sorry, it’s not fair for me to assume you could just pack up and move or fly out every weekend.”

“Then don’t bring it up again,” she said.

Okay then.

“I’m trying here, Sarah. This is all new to me, too.” He’d never felt close enough with June to figure out a summer situation. They saw each other once or twice when he was gone, and that was enough. Looking back, that should have been a huge sign about the trajectory of their relationship.

“And yet, I assume because I have a vagina, I was raised to take other people into account.”

“That’s not fair,” he said.

“No? Then why do you always jump into me coming to you? Into me changing my plans? Into me inconveniencing my life before you do?”

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. This was supposed to be a nice, light conversation about how he wanted her to meet everyone he loved.

“Maybe we should just break up for the summer,” she said when he didn’t say anything.

“What? No!” Quinn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, hurt and disgruntled she would even suggest such a thing.

“What would you suggest, then?”

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you want to date someone else?” His voice was hesitant as he braced himself for the blow.

“No. Of course not.”

“Then why do you want to break up?” he asked through the relief easing his mind. “Why would you even say that?”

“Because we won’t be together.”

“That doesn’t mean we should just call it off. Why do you always jump into ‘we should break up’ or ‘I should go’ when something hard comes up?”

“I…” Sarah broke off, caught. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should figure that out because I’m willing to put in the work here,” he said, gesturing between them.

“That’s not fair.”

He raised his eyebrows instead of throwing her words back in her face.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I am trying, and I know you’re trying.” Tears pricked at her eyes, “I’ve just…” her mind whirred, trying to find the right explanation. In the end, as it always did with Quinn, the truth won out. “I’m scared I’m going to fuck it up and I don’t want to lose you.”

Bridging the space between them with one big step, he pulled her against him. When they boiled down to the heart of the problem, they were both scared of the same thing.

Tucking his nose into her hair, he breathed in the calming, smokey scent that was uniquely hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” he said. “We can still be together. Just separately.”

A laugh snorted from her nose, and she pulled back, “what?”

“Long distance?”

It was Sarah's turn to suck on her lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I have. It's not easy. But I think we're both committed enough to make it work. Plus, we'll see each other pretty often.”

She had her thinking face on as a pregnant pause passed, so Quinn didn’t interrupt.

“What would that look like?” she asked, finally.

“We’d talk on the phone and video chat a lot. I can come see you every weekend.”

“That doesn't make sense, Quinn. You go to Michigan to train and be with family. If you're flying back here every weekend, won't that mess with those things?”

“Probably, but —”

“Then it's out of the question. You need to do what you need to do.”

He felt whiplashed. “I thought you wanted me to come here.”

“Only in equal measure to me coming to you. I won’t let you give up your summer training for me.”

It stuck him how much care and understanding were laid out in that statement.

“Just like I know you wouldn’t want me to give up my research for you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Still wrapped in each others arms, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder as they thought.

Tucking his face into her hair again, Quinn breathed deeply. As always, that smokey, vanilla scent was so calming to him. He couldn’t ever get it out of his mind.

“This fucking sucks,” he said, voice muffled.

“I know,” she agreed. “I wish it could be different."

It couldn’t. They both had commitments that needed to be fulfilled, and they just didn’t match up.

“I wish I’d known. I would have made different plans.”

“How would you have known?” she asked. “We only met four months ago.”

“Has it only been that long?” he asked. The reality of the swiftness of their relationship hit him full force. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“I know. I do too.”

“I don’t want to go the summer without you,” he said, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“I don’t either,” she agreed, “but it’s not like it’ll be five months where we just don’t see each other.”

“Four,” he corrected.

“What?”

“Four months, I come back in September.”

Well, that was a relief.

“Okay, four months. I mean, we already have stuff planned. Let’s talk through what we do have,” she suggested, breaking away from him all together and pulling her planner from her bag. Flipping to the summer months, she lay it on top of her comparative physiology textbook and sat at the table. The urge to make a plan itched beneath her skin.

He sat next to her, leaning in.

“So we have my family in June,” she said, pointing out the 10 days she had blocked out for her visit, “I sort of expected you’d come on the weekend?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. And our reunion over the forth,” he said, flipping the page. “Then, we’re going to Hawaii at the end of July. You can come. I’ll get you a ticket.”

“Hold on, have you talked to your family about this?”

“No, but it’ll be fine.”

She shook her head.

He couldn’t believe she was turning down the option to spend two more weeks together.

“That’s your family vacation, Quinn. I’d love to come, but I don’t want to go inserting myself —”

“You’re not inserting yourself, I’m inviting you.”

“And I’m telling you I won’t come unless all your family is okay with it. Including Jack.”

Even though Quinn had assured her Jack was a good guy and very devoted to his family and would come around once they met, he was still aloof anytime she happened to be around when he and Quinn were talking. Even Ellen had said as much, but Sarah still felt hesitant. Until she saw it from Jack himself, she wasn’t about to jump into an already planned vacation. She knew what it was like having a new person join the family. She didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be.

Quinn huffed.

“The last thing I want is to come between you and your brothers,” she said gently.

His expression softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to them about it when they’re here.”

“So, it looks like we’ll see each other every three weeks or so, depending on when you come to Nevada and what Hawaii looks like. At least until August.”

Every three weeks felt like too long. He could hardly stand a week on the road, and they weren’t even living together. Yet.

“I’d like you to come out to Michigan,” he said, “meet the guys. See the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And you can come back here sometime here,” she said, her finger circling over a few weeks in August.

Quinn nodded. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, but it did feel better to have a plan.

“Are you renting this place out for the summer,” she asked, “while you’re gone?”

“I kind of thought you might move in here.”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s just going to be empty, and I’d really like to live with you when I move back.”

She couldn’t believe he could drop such a huge bomb so easily. As she tried to reconcile what he was saying, she repeated, “what?”

“I mean…” he paused, voice and expression suddenly hesitant, “only if you want to.”

Her brain finally caught up, “it’s not that. It’s just…we haven’t even talked about living together, and now you have this whole plan about how I should live here over the summer.”

“I just thought there’s no real need for you to pay for rent anymore, since you spend so much time here anyway.”

“I…” she was struck with the care in that statement, “that’s really sweet, Quinn.”

He beamed.

“But I can’t live here alone all summer.”

Expression falling, he opened his mouth.

“I just —” she interrupted before she lost her nerve. What was one more in a series of already vulnerable conversations? “I’d love to live here with you, but I can’t…I don’t know how my depression will act up if I live alone for that long. I’ve never lived on my own before, and I don’t think a summer where I’m missing my boyfriend is the best time to start.”

The thought that she’d be here alone hadn’t crossed his mind. Not in a concrete way. Like, he knew she’d be here, and he knew he’d be in Michigan, but he never thought about it like she would be the only one in the apartment.

“Oh,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “then of course not.”

His immediate acceptance made tears rush to her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a hand back to wipe her face.

Smiling despite the tears on her cheeks, she shook her head. “I just really love you.” Her voice sounded full, almost like she had a cold.

“I love you, too,” he said, feeling a little confused, “but I don’t know why you’re crying.”

“Just…” How could she explain something like this? “The way you accept and trust my needs. It’s really nice.”

“The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy, Sarah.”

This brought on a new wave of tears, and she tucked her head into his shoulder, trying to pull herself together.

Quinn still felt a little whiplashed but tried to roll with it, running a soothing hand over her back.

“What?” he asked when she mumbled something into his shirt.

Pulling back, she wiped her nose before repeating, “I’ll have to sign a new lease. It comes up in July.”

“I’ll buy you out of it,” he said as if it was the simplest, easiest solution to any of the problems they’d discussed that day.

“I can’t let you do that, Quinn. That’s a lot of money.”

Her eyes went wide. They’d never discussed money so concretely. She knew he made big bucks. All pro athletes did, but, “eight million?” she asked. “What do you do with it?”

He hated having this conversation, but it needed to be had. It was actually a little surprising to him that it’d taken this long for it to come up. June had asked him about it a month into dating.

“Sarah, I make eight million dollars a year. I can buy out your lease.”

“I have a financial advisor who’s helped me invest most of it,” he said, “and I don’t really have all eight million available all the time. But I paid off my parents and some of our families’ houses, and I give quite a bit to charity.”

She’d seen the way he was with money. He never worried about it, but he certainly didn’t throw it at anything and everything. He wasn’t irresponsible.

Opening her mouth to say something, she found her mind still reeling and closed it again.

The annoyed look he would give her when she paid the dinner bill flashed in her mind. No wonder. He made so much more than she did. All the same, she wasn’t about to become some sugar baby. That went against nearly everything her parents had taught her.

“I still want to pull my weight,” she said.

Quinn was a little taken aback by the fierceness in her voice, “what?”

“If we move in together, I still want to pull my weight.”

His lips pursed, and he held back his initial response in favor of gathering more information. “What do you mean?”

“Like, if I make $80,000 a year, I want to pay whatever percentage that is of what you make.”

“You only make $80,000 a year?” he asked.

“No. Right now, I make $50,000 a year from my research stipend. It pays for my schooling, too, so it’s technically more, but $80,000 is a general base salary for a marine zoologist.”

“You’ve been living on $50,000 a year?”

“Yes, and I’ve been fine,” she said, giving him a look that stifled any follow-up questions he may have had. “My point is that if —” she paused to correct herself, “when we live together,” he beamed and she lost her thought for a moment before continuing, “I want to pull my weight, even if it is just a small percentage of the household. I don’t want to be some beholden trophy wife.”

“Beholden?” he repeated, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, I don’t want to be some kept woman. A lot of financial advisors that I listen to say you should split the household and each pay the percentage compared to your salaries. How much do you pay here a month? Do you rent? Is it a mortgage?”

“It’s a rental. It’s not really smart for me to buy a place when there’s a chance I may get traded in three years. It’s not enough time to build adequate equity on a home.”

Sarah stuck a mental pin in that to come back to, “and how much is your rent?”

“12,000.”

“A year?” she found herself asking, even though she knew that couldn’t possibly be the answer.

“A month,” he said with an indulgent smile, knowing it was her shock speaking more than anything else.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but this fact struck Sarah harder than anything else they’d talked about. She knew she’d never be able to afford an apartment like this on her own, but this was insane. More than a fifth of her yearly salary went to Quinn’s rent each month. She counted herself lucky to find a private room for under $2000.

“Okay, so if I make,” she paused, doing mental calculations - moving decimal points. Her voice was flat when she spoke again, “one percent of what you do…” She trailed off, looking into his face, “Quinn, this is insane.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m happy to just pay, but if you would feel better paying whatever, I’m happy for you to do that, too.”

“So, I’d pay one percent of the household expenses.” Saying it out loud, it sounded so silly. One percent? That seemed minuscule, too insignificant to matter. “Maybe I could pay ten percent? One feels too tiny.”

“Sure,” Quinn said, knowing this was important to her. Unless she was storming in, trying to take over all the bills, he was happy to have her contribute in whatever way she wanted. “If you want to do that, let’s do that. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

They sat quietly for a moment, and he gathered his thoughts.

“I know it’s important to you to contribute,” Quinn said gently, “and I’m not saying you shouldn’t - but I just want you to know I’m happy to pay for things. I know I’m insanely blessed to make the kind of money I do to play a sport that I love. I’d really, really like to live together once I move back. So if that means I need to buy out your lease, I’m happy to do it if you’re comfortable with that.”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she thought. If Quinn paid off her lease, she wouldn’t have to put off moving in with him or live on her own in this giant apartment or find a place to live for the two months between when he was home and when her lease was up.

She wondered if this was one of those instances her grandmother often talked about. “Sometimes,” she would say while they were cleaning the basement or kneading dough, or working in the garden, “life showers you with blessings. And it’s up to you to catch them.”

She always accompanied this wisdom by shaping her hands into a bowl as if to fill them with water.

Sarah did the same now, pulling her other hand out of Quinns to cup them together.

Eyebrows knitted together, he glanced from her hands to her face.

She giggled and told him the story.

“I should start doing that every morning,” he said, cupping his own hands together.

“Every morning?” she repeated.

“Well, every morning that you’re here. When I wake up next to you, I feel like the luckiest guy alive.”

Despite it being incredibly cheesy, Sarah couldn’t help feeling moved. “Quinn that’s really sweet,” she said. “I feel like that, too,” she paused, feeling like she needed to add a caveat. “And I want you to know your money isn’t part of that. I would love you no matter how much money you were making.”

“I know,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over hers, “I’ve known that from the start.”

His hands found her waist as their lips connected.

A while later, that pin she’d stuck in for later snapped back into her mind, and Sarah pulled away. “What did you mean about getting traded?”

Well, they might as well have all the hard conversations all at once. “I’m in contract for the next three years, but after that, or even before, there’s always a chance I could get traded.”

The trade deadline had already passed for the season, and Sarah had watched, fascinated, as players were moved around from club to club, like pieces on a chess board as organizations tried to build the best teams possible. Now, she had a new level of understanding, knowing lives and families were being uprooted in the process.

“But they love you here.”

His smile was wide and genuine, “I love it here, too. I don’t really expect I’d be traded anytime soon, but I can’t say never with what I do. I could get seriously injured, or my game could crash.”

She gave him an incredulous look.

“Its happened before.”

“To you?”

“No, but it has to people I know. I really like it here, but I can’t guarantee I’ll play here forever, or even for the next three years. I think I will, but I can’t say for certain.”

“What happens if you get traded while I’m still finishing my degree?”

“I don’t think that will happen, but I guess we’d make it work apart until you were done. Most players get traded right at the end of their contract, so we’d be apart for the rest of the season, and then we’d decide what to do moving forward. If I was moving clubs by choice, we’d decide where to go together. ”

She nodded. “Do you get any say in trades?”

“I think I probably would, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I mean, Bo had a monster year last season, but they couldn’t come to an agreement, and so he got traded, and I know he would have liked to stay. It’s just never guaranteed.”

“How do you live your life like this?” she asked.

He shrugged, “you just kind of have to get used to the idea that things could change tomorrow.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

The concerns his parents had expressed when they were here snapped into place, and a sudden, consuming worry that she might not want this kind of life overwhelmed him.

“Are you,” he paused to lick his lips, trying to find the right phrasing, “I mean, do you think you could be okay with that?”

Even as it was racing with anxiety, the worried look on his face melted Sarah’s heart. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that while it felt steady now, his life had the possibility of being in flux all the time, and that where he chose to work was only partially up to him. At the same time, she didn’t want to be without him. The pull between them was too strong, too fated in a way she couldn’t deny. She was too in love with him to be scared of the reality of his life.

There was only one thing for it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I can,” she said. Perhaps this wasn’t even something she needed to be worried about. Thoughts buzzing, she tried to think of players on Quinn’s level who’d been traded recently. She couldn’t remember any off the top of her head. She’d have to look it up.

He gave her a relieved smile, and she saw moisture shining in his eyes.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her hands coming up to cup his face. The course hairs of his beard tickled her palms. “I think I’d probably move to the ends of the earth with you.” The words just fell out of her mouth, and once they were out there, spoken aloud for everyone to hear, she realized how true they were. For someone so practical, it was strange for her to have such a frivolous thought mean so much.

His face split into a beaming smile, and he pulled her into a hug. Tucking his nose into her hair again, he let a few grateful tears fall. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he said.

“I don’t know either.”

A sudden, surprised laugh barked from his chest, and he pulled back with a raised brow.

“Oh no,” her hand went to her mouth as a blush blazed over her cheeks. “I meant that I feel the same way.” Shaking her head, she wondered if she had ever said something so stupid. “You’re the most understanding, accepting man I’ve ever met, Quinn. I’m so glad the Universe brought us together.”

He nodded, “me too.”

Looking into his eyes, which seemed more hazel than usual to the point that she could almost see a ring of green near the iris, the reality of what was coming hit her square in the chest, “this summer is gonna fucking suck.”

“I know,” he said, pulling her into his lap.

Arms around his shoulders to bring herself closer, her feet hung awkwardly off the sides of the chair. Though she knew her toes would be tingling from lack of blood flow within a matter of minutes, she didn’t readjust, savoring the feeling of his solid chest against hers.

The deep breath she sighed out moved her whole body against his. “We’ll get through it together, right?”

Tightening his grip, Quinn agreed.

As the minutes passed, his hands traveled over her back in slow, calming waves that put her totally at ease.

“Do you have homework?” he asked quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to hear the question himself.

“Yeah, but it can wait a while.”

A pleased little hum filtered up his throat, and he pulled her tighter against him.

“Can we move to the couch, though?” she asked. “My feet are falling asleep.”

Laughing, he stood, hands cradling her butt to keep her wrapped around him. When she hooked her ankles around his back, Quinn filed the position away to try later.

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah unwound herself from him. Sure, he was an athlete, but carrying her up the stairs was still taking a toll.

She lay down on the suede couch and held her arms open for him. He gratefully lay on top of her, his head on her chest.

Running her fingers through his hair, Sarah replayed their relationship in her mind. Knowing what she knew now, both about Quinn’s celebrity status and his quiet nature, the fact that he came up to her at all was a miracle. He could have any woman in the city, and he’d stuck his neck out for her. It was overwhelming to think about sometimes. She hoped she was living up to his expectations.

Half an hour later, Quinns phone chirped with a notification, bringing them out of their sleepy reverie. By that time, they’d switched places, and Sarah was draped over him.

“It’s 6,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got to get up to make dinner.”

Even as she whined, Sarah pushed herself up. This soft, caring version of Quinn was always her favorite, and she didn’t want to let him go. “I love you,” she said, looking down at him.

“I love you, too,” he said, standing and hugging her to him again before they had to get back to real life.

Her arms tightened around him. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Quinn Hughes, but I’m so glad you’re mine.”

Tucking his face into her neck, he pressed a few soft kisses there before telling her, “Sarah Roberts, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes oneshot #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey romance #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #qh43

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puckarchives · 5 months

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definitely a surpise: l. hughes

blurb: in which you and luke introduce the daughter the world never even knew you had to the nhl. / word count: 1.3k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

To be fair, the decision had been made way before the two of you had even considered the possibility of being (or even trying to become) pregnant; instead, it was a comment that had sparked a long winded conversation on the dock of the Hughes Family lake house in New Hampshire, and that had you and Luke coming to a final consensus: if you were to have children together, mini-Lukes and mini-Y/Ns, the child wouldn’t be introduced into the world of the National Hockey League until they were a year old.

Now, while the decision might have sounded easy and obvious, it wasn’t until a few months later after our wedding that we had found out we were pregnant, and preparation for Hughes Baby Number 1 was quite the spectacle— one that usually involved Luke finding you in the stands of the Prudential Center, covered head to toe in clothing that hid your baby bump— right until it became a bit too obvious to his teammates, and it was decided that instead, your would spend your time watching the game either from the Center’s family suite, or from the comfort of your own shared home. Naturally, the latter won out almost instantaneously.

Despite the onslaught of media harassment that Luke and you had received in the aftermath of your absence from his games— comments from fans who mentioned that I wasn’t being supportive enough or even a good partner to him, the pregnant went as good as we had hoped— and, a few months later, Marnie Wren Hughes was born— a name that was a mix of both of our mother’s names, and whose middle name was a play on Luke’s own middle name, swapping out “Warren” for a simplified version of “Wren.”

Marnie was an angel child, truly. Sure, she was attached to the hip with Luke because of how much he had to travel for games and roadies, but she was a Momma’s Girl at heart— constantly around you, and always around in her stroller, or toddling around your office at the university.

As your baby’s first birthday came along, however, Luke and you once again found yourselves in a bit of a predicament. Just like her uncle, Marnie had a May birthday— putting it right smack in the middle of playoff season for the Devils, and leaving the two of you to think about what you could do with that. Would it be time to introduce the baby you two had and watched grow for over a year to the world? Hell, not even half of Luke’s team even knew about Marnie, despite the fact that Luke had been playing with the team for over five years now.

Despite this, we knew it was time; since it was her birthday, both your parents and Luke’s would be in Jersey visiting for her birthday party, and with the Canucks having lost in the second round of their own playoff games, Quinn would be taking a flight out to join the Y/L/N-Hughes family for the party as well, so it truly gave you the best opportunity to take Marnie out, surrounded by her family, to her first Devils game— and, for all intents and purposes, introduce her to the world her father thrived in.

When the day came, however, you readied the newly one-year-old in a tiny version of Luke’s jersey, with the “43” taking up the majority of her back. She looked, in so many ways, (but especially clad in the classic red and black colors,) like her dad; like the man who had given you the opportunity to be a mom to such an angel baby, and experience things like this in the first place.

As the game began and team warmups commenced, you saw Luke look around the stadium quickly, easily finding you and the child in your arms waving at him alongside his own family. Signaling to Jack to join him, the two skated over to where you stood— sporting the same jersey Marnie did, and the ring on your hand to prove it.

As Luke got near, Marnie, excited to see her dad, yelled in her baby voice, “Daddy!” leaving both you and Luke, who had stopped mid-skate, a bit dumbfounded. Sure she was a year-old already, but talking in full words? Especially since she had only ever called you “Mama” and Luke “Dada” before?

Seemingly pulled out of his stupor by the wiggling child in your arms, Marnie stretched her arms out toward Luke, now catching the attention of other players and audience members around you— all of which must have been wondering why this child was calling Luke “Daddy,” and where she had even come from to begin with.

Peeling off his gloves, Luke grabbed her into his arms as both Nico and Mercer came skating over, the latter obviously trying to find out who the child was. Even the jumbo screen, which usually held on to Kiss Cams and commercials, was pointed at the scene of Luke carrying Marnie in his arms, now peppering her tiny face in kisses as she babbled and yelled “Papa” over and over at him.

Pulling away from the two, you got out your phone to take a picture of the sight— the love of your life carrying the other love of your life, all while they both experienced something entirely new; Luke having his daughter at a game, and Marnie, experiencing the cheers of the game her dad gave his all to.

After the game though, as the Devils swept the Rangers 9-2 with three points from Luke and two assists from both Haula and Jack, you counted the amount of times that one or more Devils had skated to your piece of glass and waved at Marnie, catching the baby’s attention as they pseudo-met the youngest Hughes child for the first time. From Marino to Schmid, one by one the Devils found themselves cooing at the baby from across the glass— all star struck in a way at the child who had called their defenseman “Daddy,” but all enamored by her curls and Y/E/C eyes that were clearly traits she inherited from both you and Luke alike.

After, however, you were both ushered into the locker room, automatically surrounded by baby-fever induced coos from Luke’s teammates as Marnie was swept out of your arms— first by Jack, and then by Nico, and then finally finding herself back in Luke’s arms as each member shared their surprise that, one— Luke had a literal child, and two, that you both had kept it under wraps for so long.

“Well, it was a decision we both made before Marnie was even a thought,” you told Bastian, who was playing peek-a-boo with the squirming toddler, and who had asked how he hadn't known of her before tonight.

“We kind of wanted it to be a surprise, and then we just didn’t want her to only ever remember the bad parts about hockey, you know? But big day for the Hughes family now,” Luke added. “Big day, sweetheart,” he told Marnie, bouncing her up and down with one arm while she played with his fingers of his opposite hand.

“Well, except me,” Jack interjected. “Now I can finally show you guys the pictures of MarnieBear when she was a baby! God— you should see how much Lukey cried when she was born,” he said, leading off to join Nico and Lazar as he whipped out his phone, most likely pulling out the one photo he took of Luke with a newborn Marnie, tears of happiness streaming down his face as he held his little girl in his arms— her in one, and you in the other.

“Well, that was definitely a surprise,” I told him, putting your arm around his waist. The defenseman only looked down at me, smiling at both me and our daughter— yeah, it was definitely the right decision.

#luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nj devils #new jersey devils

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noxturnalpascal · 14 days

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Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 9)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

III. Path to the Future

CH 9 (6k) “She left.”

The words ring in his ears, drowning out the cacophony of multiple things happening all at once. He’s trying to throw a jacket and shoes on while Tess is grabbing at him and begging him to wait until first light. He’s grabbing at Danny and demanding to know everything while Diego wails, apologizing that they didn’t look after you enough. The noise brings the other women downstairs and they all shout over each other, some arguing Joel should wait for a search party to be formed and some saying they’ll go with him and should leave right now.

In the end, Joel acquiesces to Tess, not wanting to ignore her heartfelt pleading after the hours they just spent commiserating together. He waits until first light to leave with Danny, Diego, and Sasha in tow. He orders Danny and Diego to ride their mounts to the east and west, climbing opposite peaks on either side of the valley to look for any sign of you. He sends Sasha north along the valley to look for the same and orders everyone to send up smoke signals if they see anything and to meet back at the house no later than sundown. But he knows all of those efforts will be fruitless.

He already knows that you wouldn’t bother coming back through the town when your goal was clearly to get as far away from him as possible. You would have left the farm and continued south, which is the direction he goes. As Sasha stuffs snacks and canteens in everyone’s packs before they split up, she repeats Joel’s words back to him several times, meet back here by sundown, but by the look on her face she already knows what he does, that he won’t be back until he’s found you.

---

Joel watched for smoke signals behind him all day until the sun began to sink below the treeline, making it impossible for him to see anything short of flares, which he knew they didn’t have. He figured he’d be the first one to see signs of you anyways, which he did eventually. The next town south in the valley was about a four hour walk and while he knew you’d probably never been through there, it was well picked over by his people and had been free of infected every time he’d been there.

He thought you’d be cautious and avoid the town, his hunch confirmed when he made his way up the gentle slope just north of the town and saw the footprints you’d left. The spring sun had melted the snow and left the ground muddy, and when you’d come through here late last night you most likely hadn’t even thought about covering your tracks. But now he knows he chose the right direction, and he pushes forward along the ridge, following the breadcrumbs you unknowingly left for him.

Joel follows your tracks along the river - just beside the interstate - noticing you keep to the treeline instead of traveling along the roadway, which has better footing but would leave you exposed. You also head east, which is the opposite direction of the bigger mountain range and also away from the state’s most populated city. You’re avoiding overexertion and big-cities. Maybe you do have some survival instincts after all.

He nearly loses your tracks mid-afternoon when you veer away from the river at another city but takes a gamble and catches signs of you again along the road leading towards the New Hampshire border. You’re not looking for populated areas here, there isn’t even any evidence you’ve stopped anywhere along the way. He assumes you’ve already got a destination in mind and are focused on heading there.

Long after sunset Joel finally decides to find a place to lie down for a while. He lays there in the dark and tries not to think about how worried Tess must be since he never came back, or how you’re somewhere out here too - all alone in the cold darkness. He knows this is all his fuckin’ fault. What a mess he’s made. He actually convinced himself that he was helping people, that he was saving them. He let himself believe them when they told him what a good man he was, a protector and a provider.

He falls into a fitful sleep and when he awakes a short time later he decides to forgo any further attempts at rest and continue on your trail. He hopes you spent more time with your eyes closed than he did and he can make up some ground on the head start you got. He follows your winding trail along the woods’ edge, through overgrown fields, around a quarry, and over creeks, all avoiding any majorly populated areas.

The only time you leave yourself exposed is through an hours-long stretch going through a wooded valley, where walking the roadway is your solitary option to avoid climbing up and down the rocky hills on either side of the pavement. By his calculations you probably traveled this section last night while he attempted sleep, which would have made your trek along the road a more protected position than he is currently in, trudging though the early morning hours and into the rising sun.

He hikes on through the morning, thinking over and over in his head what he’ll say to you when he finds you, and eats the last of his packed food around noon. He knows he can refill his canteen in the river just ahead, which creates the border of Vermont and New Hampshire. He also knows there’s a major city if he continues on his path and knows that’s the reason your tracks start to head south into what his map tells him is a wide forest.

This might be good he thinks, since he’s been hiking for nearly 30 hours and only slept a handful of them. He knows he could use a shady and secure place to take a nap. He waits until he’s about an hour’s hike from the last farm he passed before he walks off the trail to find somewhere to rest. Keeping the road just in sight, he walks straight through the woods and over a brook, finding a soft collection of last autumn's fallen leaves on which to rest his head. With the bird songs in his ear and the soft rustle of trees above him, sleep quickly overtakes him.

He jolts awake, a sound skimming his senses and alerting him to danger. He lies there, statue-still, and tries to listen past the woosh of the pumping blood in his ears, taking deep breaths to slow his thumping heartbeat. It’s dark here in the thick trees and the sun is low in the sky. He must have slept most of the afternoon away but he can tell it’s not evening yet. Suddenly Joel realizes it’s not a sound that woke him but the lack of sound. There are no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the eerie sound of the branches creaking and the new spring leaves dancing on their boughs.

He slowly sits up - weapon in hand and his head on a swivel - trying to listen for the clues that nature around him has already picked up on. A predator is nearby. Infected wouldn’t be this quiet, they’re mindless and insatiable and only care about one thing. This is either a large animal or a human. He actually finds himself hoping to catch sight of a black bear as opposed to the alternative.

Before he can get up from his sleeping position he hears quick footsteps behind him and a blunt crack to the back of his head, the pain radiating across his skull. He slumps forward and groans in pain, his hands loosening around his gun. He hears footsteps move around the front of him and feels his rifle being snatched out of his slackened grasp. A foot kicks at his torso and he groans again.

“He’s not out, you gotta hit him again,” he hears you say above him.

No, it can’t be you. There’s no way.

“I’m not getting near him again, you said he was dangerous,” he hears a male voice behind him say.

You’re goddamn right he’s dangerous, and as soon as his head stops pounding he’s going to-

A second thump, this time on the side of his head, is the last thing he feels before everything goes black.

---

Joel doesn’t gain consciousness quickly, like coming up for air after being underwater. Instead it comes back in waves, just a few words here and there, a musty smell, the familiar sound of your voice, the beam of a flashlight hitting his eyelids. He’s trying to make sense of it but it’s all jumbled up and he’s not sure how to put the pieces together. He tries to sort out his thoughts bit by bit, every time he’s conscious he tries to figure one thing out and hold it in his mind, to remember it before he passes out again.

He knows he’s in a chair, he can hear murmured echos so he imagines the room is large, but the soft sounds of crickets outside tell him there's at least one window nearby. He knows he’s tied up, he can feel bindings wrapped around him and his arms are pinned behind his back. He knows he’s been relieved of his guns, the usual weights at his hip and ankle not present. When he’s finally able to stay awake for long enough to string a coherent thought together, he decides to open one eye for a peek at his surroundings.

He’s in a very large and long room - wooden tables and chairs scattered around - creating a maze of objects between him and five figures standing on the opposite end of the room. It’s dark - he’s been out for a while - and he can’t make out their faces or their conversations but he can see that two are tall and three are shorter. He thinks at least one of them is a woman. Could it be you? He thought he’d heard your voice.

Unable to hear any actual words amidst the murmur of conversation, Joel looks around again, trying not to move his head so he still appears unconscious. Divided windows line both sides of the building, moonlight pouring in from what he imagines is the south side and reflecting off the stark white rafters above him. He takes in the amount of chairs and tables in front of him and although he can’t turn his head, he would wager money there’s a kitchen behind him. If he had to guess where he was he’d say this was probably an old summer camp’s dining hall, the craftsman style construction pointing to a mid-century build.

He hears shuffling and sees two of the figures crossing the room towards him so he shuts his eyes and pretends to be unconscious again. Around tables and chairs he hears their soft footsteps, he’s still out muttered by a deep, gruff voice. He hears the footsteps stop just in front of him and feels a couple pokes to his chest. He does his best to play possum until he hears your voice - definitely your voice - shouting from across the room.

“You better make sure you double check him for weapons.”

“You already told us that three fuckin’ times,” a nasally voice with a southern twang shouts back.

A different, deeper voice says to quit hollerin’, then there’s a short back and forth between the two men in front of him filled with curse words while he hears stomping feet making their way over from the other side of the room. He hears your voice again but this time all three of you are cussing in hissed whispers, the most prominent phrase being fuck you, and he can’t take it anymore. He lifts his head up and stares right into your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” a tall asshole with the deep voice says, raising a pistol in front of him aimed right at Joel’s face.

“I told you,” you say.

Even in the dark Joel can see purple bruising around your left eye and a split in your lip, still oozing wetness. That’s a fresh wound.

“Shut up, whore,” a nasally twat that might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet barks at you.

Okay, Joel thinks, he’s gonna snap this rude twig in half first for talking to you like that. Did he give you those marks on your face?

“Quit fuckin’ callin’ her that,” the tall one elbows the twig and then pulls you into his grasp.

He watches you break eye contact with him as you wrap your arms around the giant’s middle - seriously, this guy must be nearly seven feet tall - burying your face in the center of his torso. He hears your muffled voice say I told you he’d come for me into his dirty sweatshirt as his free hand moves down your side and squeezes your hip. Change of plans. The big fucker dies first.

The other two people make their way across the room as String Bean grabs a knife off his hip, which Joel recognizes as the knife he put on his own hip when he left the house yesterday morning. He watches this idiot flick it around in front of him like some kind of hillbilly ninja, the knife glinting in the moonlight. It’s pathetic but it’s the only thing keeping him from boring holes into the back of your head as you remain clutched to that big oaf like a goddamn koala bear. He subtly tests the ropes used to tie him to the chair.

The two that join the group are a chubby guy maybe five and half feet tall, and a girl just a bit shorter than him, both of whom look to be teenagers. The tall one tucks the gun into his waistband and they all engage in a terrible exercise of whispering, pointing back and forth. Joel knows he’s half-deaf in one ear but they know they’re talking about him right in front of him, right? From what he can surmise, the two younger ones are a couple, and the girl’s big brother is the tall guy you’re climbing like a tree. He’s not sure how the scrawny one fits into the equation or how you got mixed up in this. Do you know these people?

“So are we gonna get rid of him, or what?” Skinny asks.

“That’s not part of the plan,” you snap, pointing your finger in his face.

Joel watches him slap your finger away and then get pushed by the big guy before all of you devolve into loud whispers again, cursing and hissing. This is getting very old very quickly. He tests the ropes again, flexing his arms and chest against them. He’s tied pretty tight with more than one length of rope. Jesus, what did you tell them, that he was Houdini? The bickering still hasn’t stopped so Joel clears his throat and the noise finally ceases, everyone turning to stare at him. Except you. You won’t meet his eyes.

Just like old times.

“You ready to get the fuck outta here, baby?” he says, looking right at you.

He watches everyone else’s face swivel to look at you. You tilt your head slightly and meet his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, asshole,” you twist your last word like a knife into his gut.

He watches Big Guy snake his arms around your middle from behind, drawing you back to his chest. Who the fuck does this jerkoff think he is putting his hands on you? And why don’t you seem to mind? Skinny points at Joel and starts to get mouthy but Big Guy lets you go and drags Skinny and Chubby away from the group and behind Joel, leaving you and the girl alone in front of him. He figures this is as good an opportunity as ever.

“PJ, I’m sorry-”

“Fuckin’ save it, Joel,” you hiss.

“Seriously though, what are we gonna do now?” Girl asks you, side-eyeing him.

“What do you mean? This doesn’t change the plan at all,” you say with confidence.

“You said he’d kill us,” Girl whispers loudly.

He watches your face as you pull her away from him but you don’t look back to meet his eyes. Your face is passive, giving nothing away. You told these people he would kill them? Why would you say that? You’ve never seen him kill anyone. You’ve probably never even heard about the terrible things he’s done. Of course he’s killed people, but so has everyone. He thinks you might have even had to do your fair share to survive. But why would you tell these people he’s a killer?

All three boys come around from behind Joel, Skinny stomping around with a large folded up paper in his hand. He shoves it in Joel’s face and points to it forcefully.

“Show us where you came from,” Skinny says.

Joel sees the paper is the map of the state of Vermont he’d been traveling with. Luckily nothing on it is marked, so there’s no indication where the Valley might be.

“He’s not gonna-” you start.

“Slut,” Skinny snarls. “You really need to learn when to shut the fuck up.”

“No she’s right,” Joel says, drawing Skinny’s attention back to him. “I’m not gonna tell you shit.”

Skinny opens his mouth to protest but you speak first.

“I told you I know how to get there, we don’t need a map,” you sigh.

“I don’t fuckin’ trust you!” Skinny whines, turning around to throw a mock punch in your face. You wince.

“You need to calm down,” Big Guy hums at his rageful companion, pulling you towards him again and away from Skinny’s reach. “She told us she’d get us there and it’s in her best interest not to fuck us over.”

Joel doesn’t miss the way Big Guy’s hand tightens around your arm when he says it’s in your best interest to cooperate.

“We been on the road for nearly two fuckin’ weeks and I’m gonna be real fuckin’ pissed if this little whore is jerkin’ us around,” Skinny hisses.

“I’m not,” you say, looking up at Big Guy.

“I hope not, ‘cause we’re really hungry,” Girl says.

“Yeah,” Chubby agrees.

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Skinny snaps, pointing a crooked finger in the girl’s face. “You ate your weight in pickles this morning. Besides, your fat ass could go another week without food.”

This time Big Guy has had enough. He yanks you to his left by your arm and steps towards Skinny, right arm pulled back and threatening a punch. Skinny jumps back, arms in front protecting his face and starts muttering apologies, saying he was just kidding, avoiding the punch Joel isn’t sure Big Guy even intended to throw. Maybe he’s more bark than he is bite. However, he thinks Skinny is exactly as much bite as he seems to be, no impulse control and a violent streak, and most likely the one who gave you those bruises. Joel can’t wait to kill these idiots and save you from them, then bring you back home where you belong.

“It’s late and it’s been a long day, we all need some rest if we’re gonna make the long trek tomorrow,” Big Guy says.

Joel thinks that it seems like Big Guy is the brains of this little operation, watching as he orders the young couple to sleep on the opposite side of the room where they can guard the doors. He tells Skinny to take first watch of Joel - who he refers to as the old guy - and then mumbles something to you about keeping you close before dragging you back into the kitchen behind Joel’s back.

---

It’s a muffled sound Joel hears at first but he’d know it anywhere, your soft sighs. He never thought when he heard you making those sounds again that he’d be so fucking pissed off. What is that fucker doing to you? He tests the ropes a third time, wishing he could reach into the back of his pants where he keeps a second knife tucked away, a small one clipped to his boxers for emergencies. Emergencies like this.

Skinny sits in a chair just across from Joel, about five feet away, watching him with a shit-eating grin on his face. If this idiot closes his eyes for a few minutes Joel thinks he can try and go for his knife. He’d be able to cut his bindings and start eliminating these morons one-by-one. But Skinny hasn’t closed his eyes. And you’re behind him with Big Guy right now, making gentle moaning noises. He needs to get free now.

“Ya hear that?” Skinny asks, smiling. Joel doesn’t answer. “He’s gonna dick your girl down real good.”

Joel feels his face heat, his ears burning while he clenches his teeth to avoid letting go of the growl that wants to escape his throat.

“She told us all about you, ya know?” Skinny sneers.

“Oh, did she?” Joel scoffs.

“She sure did,” He whistles. “She sang quite the song. Said you have the biggest stockpile of shit she’s ever seen, and you have all these fuckin’ people doin’ your bidding.”

Joel tries not to let surprise paint his features. You little shit. You told this jerkoff about the town, about all the food and supplies, about him and his flock? What did he do to you to make you confess all that? It’s fine, he’ll just play dumb, convince him you lied.

“That sounds pretty nice,” Joel muses, nodding his head slowly.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought,” Skinny laughs.

“Almost sounds too good to be true.”

“Does it?”

“Come on kid, it’s been ten years since the fuckin’ world ended,” Joel drawls, a smile on his face. “No one is livin’ like that. We’re all just scrounging for our next meal.”

“Yeah… she said you’d say that.”

“One thing you should know about her?” Joel’s smile disappears. “She’s a lying little bitch.”

“Well she’s certainly a bitch,” Skinny huffs. “...’cept I’m starting to think maybe she ain’t lyin’. She told us you’d follow her, and you did.”

“Oh? What else did she say?”

“She told us you’d have a hidden gun on your ankle, and you did.”

“Interesting,” Joel hums, the reminder that they took all his guns creating a renewed anger at his current situation.

“And she told us you’d lie your ass off to keep us from raiding your shit,” Skinny laughs. “And here you are, tryin’ to lie to me.”

“I thought you didn’t trust her,” Joel mocks.

“I trust you even less, old man.”

Joel settles back in his chair, flexing to test the bindings again as he hears wet noises coming from behind him. He hears a low grunting, what he assumes to be that tall fucker getting off with his fucking woman. He lets the growl rumble in his chest now, hoping it’ll drown out the sounds behind him and quell his murderous rage. Skinny makes a grating noise that could be a laugh. Joel stares at a dark knot in the hardwood floor and imagines wrapping his hands around Skinny’s stick neck.

“Sounds like yer girl isn’t yer girl anymore, don’t it?”

---

12 hours earlier…

You knew that you’d been hiking for over a day, although there was no real way for you to keep time. You left the farm at sunset and now the sun was rising on your second day. You tried to do a lot of your walking at night, pushing aside the childlike notion that the dark was scary while also trying to ignore the very real threat of actual monsters. Scary as it was, you knew that logically, you would at least hear clickers coming. It's more dangerous to be quietly stalked if seen by humans in the daylight. Still, you kept to the trees for most of your trek and even climbed one for a quick nap the first afternoon.

You weren’t sure if anyone was after you but figured there was a pretty good chance Joel would send out a search party once he heard, so keeping a steady pace and stopping as infrequently as possible were your main priorities. You thought you would outsmart him by heading away from the populated areas or outrun him by walking almost non-stop until you hit the ocean. You didn’t risk stealing a map from Hank’s shelves but you stared at it for long enough to memorize the route numbers you’d need to take, even making up a song to fit them into so they’d stick in your mind.

So now you were just next to Highway ninety one, which - according to your rhyming song - takes you south to Lebanon. You spot the sun shining off ripples of water through a brief clearing in the trees and decide to fill your canteen away from the more exposed river, heading to what ends up being a serene lake surrounded by a thick forest. It’s gorgeous here. The sun is shining and keeping you warmer than the crisp spring air would otherwise allow. The landscape glows green, finally coming back to life after a long winter.

This place reminds you of the lake you’d swam in during the summer camp you went to five years in a row as a child. Grab a swimming buddy, plug your nose, and jump in. God, you were fearless in those days. It's too cold to swim now but you wouldn’t anyways, not all by yourself. You walk the perimeter until you find a dock that will take you far enough away from shore to get some clear water without vegetation mixed in. Not that eating a little grass would kill you, but you’d prefer your water to just be water and not a salad.

God, you could go for a salad right now. Rosie made the best salads with a homemade vinaigrette that rivaled any dressing you’d had before the world ended. Why were you thinking of that now, of Joel’s house? You shouldn’t be thinking of that. Or of him. Fuck him. You were far away from him now, having finally escaped. You were staring out over the gentle ripples of a beautiful lake on a peaceful morning all alone. Enjoy this moment, you earned it, you tell yourself. You stand up and twist the lid closed on your canteen, stuff it into your pack and turn around.

Only you’re not alone.

There is a man at the end of the dock blocking your path.

Shit.

The fear starts to grip you, its icy tendrils shooting up your limbs and threatening to seize your rapidly beating heart in its grasp. No, you can’t freeze now, you have to keep your wits about you, you have to get yourself out of this situation. Making mental calculations as quickly as you can, you take off running down the old wooden dock, towards the shore, towards him.

Surprised by your sudden movement, the man takes a couple steps forwards on the dock, planning to take up even more space on your path. A few more steps and you’re within spitting distance from him. You see his arms come out in front of him to grab you. You quickly turn and leap off the dock, landing in the shallow water by the shore several feet away. You use your paltry headstart to your advantage and take off running along the shore.

You turn your head to look back and you see him, stumbling over his own long legs, having tripped and fallen into the shallow water. Relief bubbles up inside you like a percolating kettle, warming your insides and making you feel almost buoyant. You’re still looking backwards which is why you don’t see the six-foot-plus wall of man in front of you. Not until you smash into him and turn your head back, finding that his chest fills your entire field of vision. The pungent smell of his body odor stings your nose, nausea washing over you.

He twists you around so your back is to his chest and two anaconda arms wrap around your torso, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You see the other man coming closer, soaking wet but laughing his fuckin’ head off, a mouth half-full of crooked, rotting teeth. He’s more of a boy than a man, now that you can see him closer. Probably early 20’s and around six feet tall. With his clothes soaking wet you can see how skinny he is, hardly any meat on his lanky frame. A nasal twang comes out of his voice between sputters and chuckles.

“You- You thought you were real slick back there, didn’t ya, bitch?”

“She gave you the fuckin’ slip, Roy,” a deep voice huffs above your head. “She woulda gotten away if I wasn’t here.”

“Whatever,” Roy mutters. “Shut up.”

---

You were practically carried around the lake until you arrived at an old summer camp, a worn wooden sign calling “Aloha” to its campers. Pulled inside a small white building, you’re tied to a chair by Roy - still dripping wet - in what looks like a space once used for arts and crafts. You see the really tall smelly guy and two shorter kids - one boy and one girl - going through your backpack, pulling out the food you’d stolen from the Mansfield’s root cellar. They’ve already eaten half of a jar of pickles by the time the ropes are secured around you tightly.

Roy strips off his wet coat and joins the group, prying open a container of applesauce and greedily drinking it straight from the mouth of the jar. You hear the girl offer the tall guy a wrapped up parcel and she calls him Mike. You watch Mike open your package of homemade smoked jerky that you were saving for later on your trip and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He looks over at you, catching you watching them, and holds it up above everyone’s heads.

“Where’d you get this?” he asks.

“I found it,” you whisper, your voice hoarse due to your too-tight restraints.

You don’t even have time to process the fist that Roy throws at your face until after it lands. You feel his knuckles hit the edge of your left orbital bone and slide into your eyeball, sharp pain shooting around your skull and straight back through your eye. You cry out and tears spring to your eyes, pouring even harder out of your left eye, which you can’t open. Your chest tries to heave with sobs as you hiccup, struggling to take deep breaths against the bindings. You hear Roy’s piercing voice over you.

“...so stop lying if you don’t want another one,” he finishes, flecks of applesauce flying out of his mouth to hit your face.

“I- I ca-, I can’t-,” you feel a tightness in your chest and you worry you’re going to start panicking, the blinding pain and the reality of your current situation hitting you simultaneously. This is bad. You’re sputtering. “I c- can’t b- b- breathe.”

Roy completely ignores your tears and your pleading, tipping the applesauce jar to his face and drinking down more of it.

Pain spreads across your chest like a white hot heat, quickly becoming all you can think about, even pushing the throbbing in your eye to the back of your mind. You continue to gasp and choke, breathlessly begging anyone who’ll listen, but unable to focus on any faces. It feels like your body is being crushed, like you’ve been buried alive, every breath you can’t take in fully is another bucket of dirt thrown on top of you. The bindings across your chest seem to get tighter and tighter, the ringing in your ears growing louder.

Finally relief is delivered when you realize the young girl is at your side, her hand on your shoulder and a knife in her hand. The pressure is gone. She’s cut the ropes away from you, leaving you to take the deep lungfuls of the air you need to calm yourself down.

She pats your shoulder to reassure you before Roy - realizing what she’s done - drops the jar of applesauce to the floor. Ignoring the shatter of the glass jar and the splatter of the rest of the applesauce all over the floor, Roy grabs her by her hair, causing her to yelp in pain. He begins to scream in her face, calling her every name in the book before a massive hand is pushing a pistol into his temple. The tall guy, Mike, shoves the gun so forcefully into Roy’s head that it pushes him to the side, away from the girl. He lets go of her and stumbles back a few feet.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on my fucking sister,” Mike says.

Sister? This is good. This is very good. If Mike is willing to protect his sister from Roy then he could be willing to protect you too. You watch the girl run to the third young man’s arms, his face still covered in baby fat. You watch as he kisses her cheeks, petting her hair and telling her everything is okay as tears spring from her eyes. Once Roy has calmed down Mike lowers the gun, uncocking the hammer, and looks to you. He raises his other hand, still holding the package of jerky.

“Where’d you get this?” he asks again.

You look around, surveying the faces of his companions, each of them looking at you expectantly. They look weary. They look hungry. Looking in Mike’s eyes last, you see his deep blue eyes under heavy lids looking at you. They look like kind eyes. His floppy haircut curls up at his ears, giving him a youthful appearance but you’d guess his age was close to thirty. He seems quiet. He seems safe. You hope you’re not fucking wrong about this one.

“I can take you there,” you squeak, sounding as meek as possible. “There’s a lot more where that came from. They’d let us stay as long as we wanted. We’d be safe there, well fed... I can help you.”

“He asked you where, cunt” Roy snaps as he moves forward, his rage restored.

“I know how to get there, it’s a day’s hike away from here. I can take-”

You feel a whoosh of air right before the crack of his bony palm hits your face. Unrestrained, you fly off the chair and land crumpled on the floor, barely catching yourself. Roy has slapped you. God, it fucking hurts. Roy steps up to you and bends over your folded frame, shouting obscenities down at you before he’s elbowed out of the way by Mike. He must have put down the jerky because he reaches out to you with both hands, practically picking you up off the floor like a child. Instinctively you grab onto his arms and once on your feet, wrap yourself around him, drawing your face into his chest.

Ignoring the pungent smell wafting off him, you lick at the wetness on your face, salty tears and metallic blood. Blood? Fuck, your lip is throbbing. You touch your tongue to your lip and the source seems to be a split in your bottom lip. That fucker has hit you twice now. You wish he’d fucking choked on that applesauce he guzzled down like he owned it. You cling to Mike even after you’ve calmed down, raising your eyes to meet his, hoping your gamble pays off.

“If you help me, Mike, I can help you,” you whisper - just loud enough so only he can hear you.

His ocean eyes scan your face, no doubt looking for hints of deception. It’s hard to trust others in this world, you know that better than anyone. He looks for long enough that you hear Roy call out ‘what’s she sayin’?’ over his shoulder. He looks back at Roy, then over to his sister, and then back at you. He nods his head.

🖤

I miss you Iris 💐 Thank you for helping with this series. Thank you so much to my bestie Bug for helping me edit this. ILYSM.

🚨GOING FORWARD I WILL NOT BE USING TAG LISTS - THEY DON'T EVEN WORK HALF THE TIME. PLEASE FOLLOW AND TURN ON NOTIFS FOR @nox-notifs AS I WILL POST *FIC UPDATES ONLY* THERE.🚨

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#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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