#2. this was the final week and we were supposed to be winding down and enjoying the final days

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 7}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: A letter, clear words, the work forged by skilled but aching hands, all of it helps you to heal from what had been one of the worst weeks of your life.

Word Count: 13.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, age gap (reader is early 40's and joel is 57), pining, requited unrequited love, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, fighting, two (2) satisfying slaps, joel miller's hands need their own warning, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), soft joel, pet names (sweetheart), serious conversations, apologies, references to child loss, minor character death, blood, talk of female anatomy, reader has no assigned name but has a commonly used nickname, lemme know if i missed any major ones!

A/N: SURPRISE, Y'ALL!! i was supposed to have internet installed this week but it's been delayed again and my local library is only open today and since queues make me nervous, i threw caution to the wind and yeah - WE MADE IT. this is the final chapter! i am so delighted and humbled by the responses to this fic. i put a lot of myself into olive and for everyone to root for her and cheer her on means so, terribly much to my lil heart. i love y'all and i hope this finds you well ♡

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The hush of cardstock is the only sound in the room as Joel shuffles through the recipes you had written down for him, for him and Ellie. The fancy loops of your cursive are faded, a little blurred in some spots and he regretted your time and devotion getting smudged by his lack of attention. He had been too slow to retrieve all the index cards where they had landed, flying into the air as you had run straight into his back. It had taken so long because Marsha hadn’t seemed to get the hint or his direct words that he was not and would not be with her the way that she wished for him to be.

But she did now. She had been picking Millie up when Joel had all but kicked the door in, shouts of needing help echoing down the street. The woman had flattened herself to the wall, eyes taking in your unconscious form in Joel’s arms. How carefully he maneuvered, how mindful he was to not jostle your body too much, how frantic his expression was even as he tried to explain what he could to the nurse and doctor who sprang forward at the sight. His brows were drawn together, worry evident as he explained to them your stitches from a few days ago had opened, how you had been coughing up blood before he found you. The fear in his strong voice when he detailed how cold you were, how unresponsive. All of it combined was a reflection of his care for you. Something only seen in his interactions with Ellie. And now with you.

Joel had felt pride surge in his chest at seeing the damage you had inflicted on the other woman, guilt flaring just seconds after. You had been pushed to your breaking point, not just by her but by everyone in your life. Evidence of the fight was etched across your body from the scratches from the woman’s nails up and down your arms, the tangled tresses of your loose hair, to the bruises that had blossomed along your soft skin.

The most notable with the tearing of your stitches. The stain of blood on your skin in places he couldn’t wipe it away, for fear of harming you further, even in your unconscious state. It had been three days, and you still hadn’t woken up. Even after the repair to the wound, a better stitch pattern was implemented and two blood transfusions. One from him and one from Tommy.

He hadn’t wanted to leave your side since he brought you in, but he had things he needed to take care of. The few people who interacted with you coming in and checking on you, him coming to spend each evening by your bedside and staying through the night. Maria was across from him now, Macon sound asleep in her arms as the clock ticking on the wall displayed the post sunset hour.

“Marsha will be interrogated at the next town meetings, for her behavior and words towards Olive.”

“Good.” Joel croaked, his voice gravely from disuse.

“Millie will be on next week’s patrol with you, per your request. Once she’s adequately trained, she’ll be added to the rotation.”

“If she takes to being trained. I have a feeling she might pretend to not learn anythin’ just to get out of it.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Maria hummed in agreement, knowing more than Joel the small requests and complaints the woman has made in her time behind the walls. “It’s time some of the people who have been idle share the responsibility. Besides, Olive requested to be taken off patrol before. I’m sure she’ll double down on that once she’s recovered.”

“Please tell me she didn’t hate being forced to be my partner when Tommy asked. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough if it was somethin’ she didn’t want to-“

“Joel, she was okay with it, believe me.” Moving to stand, the woman reached to rest a hand on your legs beneath the blankets. “She was glad to feel like she was trusted enough to be asked. She never had any ill feelings toward you, even when she didn’t know you.”

She watches him, he can feel the weight of her stare on him as he continues to go over each of the cards contents. There’s a bag beside him, a small canvas thing he had loaded up with some spare pieces of lumber from bigger projects, scraps that he spent the evening hours whittling and carving as he sits beside you bed. He alternates between doing that and going over the cards, habits to keep him awake as he sits vigil and waits for you to return to him.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came back. But…you surprised me.”

“How so?” He knows he was always a sore and heavy subject between her and his brother. Even more so when he quite literally stumbled onto their doorstep. He had been determined to change, to give back into the second chance at life he had been handed, for Ellie, for his brother– for himself. Aligning himself with the customs and way of life carved out in the plains of Wyoming. He’s glad he hadn’t fallen completely to the depraved, hallowed out version he had adapted to, had been forced to become with the loss of everything he knew, with the loss of his daughter.

“You’ve meshed well with the lifestyle we created here, got onto good terms with one of the best people we have here.”

He didn’t look up from the cards in his hands, he knew that. Deep down, he knew you hadn’t minded patrolling with him. But it was hard to understand with how messed up everything was at the moment and he lost himself to the circling thoughts of how hurt you had looked as you stood your ground with him a few days ago in your kitchen. But his head shot up when a whimper sounded into the air that wasn’t from the woman or his nephew.

You were stirring in the bed, eyes still closed. Hands shaking as they raised to cradle your middle, mind no doubt recalling the circumstances of your last waking moments. Joel’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, echoing in the spot where they had drawn blood from the inside crook of his right elbow. Macon gurgled in Maria’s hold, wide eyes cut towards you as you shifted a little underneath the blankets.

“Joel…” You murmured, eyes clenching shut tightly. You weren’t rousing, you were still unconscious, though your mind seemed to be in working order if you were dreaming. Joel sets down the index cards atop the blankets over you, moving closer to grip a hand with both of his, the other laid out flat to ensure the line of the IV didn’t get tangled or kinked.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.” He soothed you as best he could, the wrap of your fingers around his stirring his heart to beat faster in his ribcage.

As he’s leaving the morning, a patrol that he would be taking Ellie out on with the approval of the council to begin her training as well, he see’s the shadow of two figures approach your room out of the corner of his eye just as he’s placing a parting kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here this early.” It’s the sister and brother pair you had insisted on bringing back. The woman, Callie Joel thinks her name is, is holding a hand to her swollen stomach protruding out from beneath her long coat. It looks like it wouldn’t fasten with how far along she was. Nolan, the man who had been with you when this whole mess started was a step behind her and a bouquet of dried flowers clenching in his hand.

“It’s okay, was jus’ leavin’.”

“Look, Mr. Miller.” Nolan steps up to him, leaving a few feet of space as Joel turns to head to the door while Callie sidles up to take the chair he had slept in and scoot it close to your unconscious form. “I tried my best to tamp down the fight, but Olive, she’s…she’s a scrappy one. Was on that other girl before I could even blink.”

“Millie. The other one’s name is Millie.”

“Millie did this?” Callie questions from her spot holding your hand in hers, eyes wide. “She’s been so nice to me, I had dinner with her and her mom just last week…”

“Millie ‘n Olive don’t get along too well, bad history.” Joel hopes he isn’t overstepping your privacy by saying so, but if the two were intent on being at least friendly with you, they deserved to know that not everyone was so forward in their interactions with you. “Patrol gone wrong, they both lost someone important to them and Millie didn’t deal with it well.”

“She called her a whore, when she saw us talking.” Nolan explained, “Olive moved first and apologized, but all hell broke loose when Millie hit her back.”

“She what?” Joel felt anger burn hot through his veins, the implication of you being anything other than kind and thoughtful not sitting well with him. No wonder you had snapped, Joel hadn’t found out exactly what had occurred, the council stemming the raging gossip as best they could as soon as it began to spread. Reminding people to deal with personal issues in non-confrontational ways or punishment would be doled out and extra duties would be tacked on.

The two fell quiet, feeling the anger simmering in him. Joel’s face had darkened, brow furrowed deep and his jaw ticking as he tried to get a control on it.

“Y’all have a good day.” He manages before he’s out the door, his steps even and nearly silent as he makes his way out of the infirmary. He’s at Marsha’s in the blink of an eye, fist knocking against the wood of their front door.

“Marsha isn’t home, she’s serving out her punishment by taking over Olive’s morning shifts at the mess hall.” Maria’s voice calls to him as she strolls down the street. Macon is in her arms, but he’s fussing. She stops and places him in the baby carriage in front of her and quiets him with a pacifier. “Millie is out getting the rundown of how patrol works and what her responsibilities are.”

“Did you know that Millie called-“

“Yes. It’s been dealt with.” Maria’s voice implied she didn’t agree with what happened, that it was indeed being considered with much thought, not taken lightly with how it built up to the point of combustion in the town’s center on one of the busiest nights.

“Easy now, honey, there you go.” Tommy’s soothing voice allowed for you to feel less embarrassed about how slow moving you were, how long it was taking to trek from the infirmary to your house. His arm was around your waist, his other in front of him as he held onto your right hand for added support. “Joel will probably be knocking on your door the second he gets back from patrol and finds you gone from the clinic.”

“He can knock all he wants.” You huffed out, not too sure how you were feeling toward the man at the moment. Once you had woken up, the nurses told you he hadn’t left your side during the nights you had been there. Tommy and Maria sharing with you the way he had been frantic to find you the second he had found out about your fight with Millie. The decision of you no longer wanting to do patrol being portrayed as a punishment for your violent outburst. But the council held no real ill will toward you, having addressed the behavior you faced from more than a few of the townspeople.

“Marsha is due to cover your shifts at the mess hall, the early ones. Until you’re ready to go back.”

“Dunno, think she needs more ‘n a week or two tackling that hectic shift.”

“There’s my girl,” Tommy beamed, glad to know you weren’t too injured to show the side of yourself he knew.

As you turned down your street, Tommy let go of you at your insistence to try and support yourself. After a few stumbling steps, you managed to find your balance, even if your pace was still on the slow side.

“Joel ‘n I fixed your door. Well, we made a new one, actually. Old man did some damage to the other one when his big bulky frame was pushed into it by those storm winds,” He chuckled, most likely picturing the ordeal that was far more tense and serious than a mishap on Joel’s part. It had been…one of the hardest things you had to do, stand your ground and deny the man you had come to care. Especially in the face of him practically confessing to you that he shared in your feelings. “Cranked the heat up to get it back to the temperature you prefer. Even watered the plants for you, fed that stray that comes around sometimes. I think it found the crate you set up for it on your back porch.”

“You’re too sweet, Tommy. Thank you.” You watched as he unlocked the door and for the first time since leaving the infirmary you noticed how he was constantly shifting. His weight from foot to foot, his hands raking through his long, dark curls.

He helped you up the few steps of your stoop, his hands a gentle weight, arms ready to tense and catch you should you lose your balance. Once you were settled in your bed, a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water on your bedside, the man tentatively settled on the foot of your bed.

“I wanted to apologize, formally.” He started, brown eyes glittering in the midafternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. You leaned up from the pillows propped up behind your back and up against the fabric headboard, about to say something but he held up a wide palm to stop you. “You told me ‘n Maria in passing the behavior people have toward you. It was out of our control, freedom of speech ‘n all but…we should’ve at least tried to tamp it down more than we did.”

“Tommy, everyone has already done so much in letting me in, giving me a chance. I did-didn’t want to stir any trouble and it wasn’t real-really anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Honey…” He stands up and nestles himself between you and the edge of the bed, his back on the headboard right next to you. He brings you into his chest and kisses into the crown of your head as you return the embrace. something he hadn’t done since you appeared back at Jackson’s gates with blood covering you head to toe and the corpse of your friend draped over the back of your horse. “You deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. No matter what.”

The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, you shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen without turning on a light. It was still dark out, using what little of the streetlight so close to the front of your house filtered in through the sheer curtains. When you sat at the kitchen table, you tried to set your mug down but there was a clatter as the bottom of it collided with something already resting there. And the space next to it, it seemed the whole table was covered in stuff, leaving no room for you to set it. Mumbling about people being in your house and rearranging your stuff, you shuffled over to the lamp atop the storage hutch’s middle shelf.

But you’re shocked when you flick the light on and turn back around to the table. It’s…covered. Every inch of the surface taken up by small stacks of what looks like intricately carved plates, serving trays, spoons, spatulas, and small figures that look like birds moving in a downward swoop. The coffee still in your hand splashes a little to the tile beneath your bare feet, starting you as it bounces up to kiss the skin of your ankles. But you pay it no mind as you absently set it on the hutch beside the light and move to the table with watering eyes.

It had to have been him. Joel.

The plates are beautiful, vaguely floral shaped and stained such a deep mahogany. They’re not too heavy, though they are very sturdy in your inspecting hands. Turning each one from the three separate stacks of them, each a different size from dessert to salad to serving plates, reveal a small J.M branded into the wood. Each of the leaf shaped serving trays reveal the same, though they are heavier and a bit harder for you to turn over in your weakened state. Large smoothed edged bowls are nestled in each other, the topmost one holding matching large serving spoons made your heart lurch and your stomach swoop.

The carving had been lovingly attended to because each rivet and swirl, each boarder and flat surface, it was all so seamlessly smooth. On evert single piece littering your table.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks to rest atop his intricate creations. The sight of two sets of spoons and two sets of spatulas held together with twine making you have to clap a hand over your mouth as a sob wracks through your body. The memory of hurling the ones you had requested from him flashing too bright and loud. You had taken something crafted by him and thrown in across this very kitchen, disrespecting the time and attention he had devoted to the request you had made.

Collapsing into the chair, you let the emotions of the last week take over you. Your coffee is lukewarm when you rise to retrieve it, but you twirl a carved bird in your hand as you sip from it, tears waned for the moment. That’s when you spot the large, flattened pieces on the other side of the table.

Cutting boards, three of them. Each one with a branding on the thick sides to label them individually for herbs, vegetables, and meat. The entire surface of each it sealed with a coating, but beneath it on the corners are floral patterns that you squint your eyes to take a closer look at. Gasping, you realize he had depicted the blooms often found on olive trees. His voice suddenly rings in your head as your mind recalls something you weren’t even conscious for but had filed away.

‘I made you one…I made them all for you. All of them, every single one….C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.’

‘I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.’

The tears flow, with no end in sight as you reach a shaking hand for the note you see laying atop the largest one.

‘Olive, I know I’m shit with words, I know I’ve sent such mixed signals with everything. But I want you to know, need you to know that seeing you is the best part of my day, of every day. Even if it’s just across the mess hall, across the street, as I walk home from patrol and see you in the window of your kitchen with a soft smile. The talks we have, the questions we share, every single word we’ve exchanged as made me feel worthy of the things you think of me, for the first time in a long while.

You are such an extraordinary, kind, thoughtful person and I am so lucky to have made it here to Jackson to cross paths with you. I can’t change what happened, but each hitch of your breath, each tug of the brim of your hat over your eyes, each moment spent with you makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you close. I don’t want the first time you hear the words from me to be in writing, but, Olive. I fear I’ve fallen for you, and it’s made me such a fool. Please take these gifts for what they are, a representation of how I think of you every second of every day. Of how you inspire me to be a better person. Of how much love I have for you. J.M.’

Your coffee goes completely cold as you sit at the table, reading the note over and over again.

The gentle knock on your door kickstarted your heart, fluttering hard in your chest as you knew who was on the other side of the repaired wood. You turned the burner off on the stove top, shifting it to rest atop one of the cooler ones. You called for the man who held your heart to ‘wait a second, please’ before you turned to the table and reached for one of the serving bowls, spooning out the steamed contents of the pan into it and placed it back among the others already atop the table. The table was full, dishes coloring the spread laid out across the table. The rest of his gifts had been carefully places in the hutch along the back wall, some of them displayed behind the glass of the topmost part.

Toasted sandwiches cut into triangles rested atop one of the leaf serving trays, the one you had just filled up with three different types of steamed and roasted vegetables. A glass pitcher of fresh juice you pressed earlier a deep red and shining in the flames from candles interspersed between the trays and plates. You nervously ran your hands down the front of your apron, a worn but loved patterned thing that wrapped around the back of your neck and at the back of your waist.

The brownies looked a little thick, now that you took a second to consider them. A rich buttercream piped into a swirling tower amid them stacked up on one of the larger flower plates. The midsize ones set in front of two chairs with empty glasses and clean utensils beside them. All set up, all waiting.

For him, for Joel.

Moving to the door, you paused and took a deep breath to calm yourself, the titter of shyness you weren’t sure you would ever overcome when it came to the man on the other side. Reaching for the lock, you clicked it out of its setting and twisted the handle to open the door.

Joel was stood there, silhouetted against the bright winter sun, the broadness of his shoulders and the volume of his curls on display so close for you. His head had been hanging, one hand on the wall beside the door. And when he looked up to catch your eyes, your breath hitched and you felt your fingers twitch at the urge to pull him close. To let him make his written words a reality and cradle you in his arms.

“I-I got your no-note. And the – the things you left f-for me.”

“Did you,” He cleared his throat, hand moving from where it was supporting him to fall to his side, clenching and unclenching in that own nervous habit he had. His eyes roved up and down your body, taking the image you were making in your doorway. You felt like you looked okay, but your hair was a little frizzed out from the heat of cooking. And you were so, incredibly self-conscious. He was such a handsome man, and you were…just you. His voice was shaky, something you couldn’t ever recall hearing from someone normally so controlled. “Did you…like everythin’ alright?”

“It’s all so perfect. Th-thank you.” You smoothed your hands down the front of the apron again, nervous and unsure of how to approach him even as your body hummed in anticipation from the thought of it. He loved you. And you loved him back.

“And the- the note?”

“Y-yeah.” You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his, too self-conscious with how all uncharted everything seemed to be.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I-“ He surged forward through the open door, but his boots scuffed as he cut the movement short. You had unconsciously stepped back, nerves alight from the last time you had been approached. Muscles twitching, your arms tingled with the way you tried to relax from the sudden tension that had flooded your entire body. Fight or flight activated. You could see the way his throat bobbed with the nervous swallow he took before sighing out a deep breath. “Olive, I swear to you, I- you’re so good. The sweetest, prettiest thing I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my time and if you’ll let me, I’ll be a good man for you. I’ll be a good man with you.”  

“Joel, I-“ Your words choked off into a sob, tears trialing hot down your cheeks as your emotions spiked and cascaded over you. Hands trembling as you did reach out for him, fingers wrapping around the unzipped edges of his thick jacket. He moved into you, his own hands coming up to cradle your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m with you. Not goin’ anywhere unless you want me to, okay?” He holds you, letting you bury your tear-stained face into his neck. The flow of them still falling from your eyes dampening the fabric of his flannel.

“D-do you want some lunch?” A shy smile pulled at your lips, heat blooming in your chest even as the tears continue to fall.

He seems to release all of the tension in his shoulders as he sighs out something relieved. You can tell he’s a little confused by the question, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. The opportunity to spend time with you, to talk to you. He had come here, after all, not even knowing where you two stood after everything. Fresh from a patrol, you could smell the lingering scent of hay from the stables on him. The leather from his gloves sliding along and holding the reigns of his horse. Nodding, you finally manage to meet his eyes and your breath hitches even as a pang of worry echoes in your chest.

“H-how was patrol?” You wait for him to take a seat before you go to pick up the pitcher and pour him some of the juice you had made. His hands are a soft hush over yours as he takes it from you and pours himself a glass before reaching for your own empty one with a lopsided smile.

“It was good, took Ellie out for her first one. She’s been buggin’ me about it since the start of winter.”

“Is she going to be my replacement? I don’t want her to feel like she has to if she’s not ready.” His eyes move over your face as you spoon steaming vegetables onto his plate and then yours.

“Maria agreed with me that Millie should be trained up, she’s starting with me next week. It’s part of her punishment for instigating the fight.”

“Oh.” Another thing for the woman and her mother to hold against you. You worried for a second of how much damage you had done to her in your near fugue state but then realized if she was okay enough to start patrol then she was far better off than you happened to be.

“We don’t have to talk about that or we- we can, if you want to. Just…just want to talk with you. About anything.” About anythin’, about nothin’.”

The conversation isn’t much from then on, but it’s enough to hold his attention. You’re tired, so incredibly tired and lethargic from the emotional morning you had, from putting all the food spread over the table together, not much of it left after Joel devours a lot of it. Starvin’ he had said through a bite, pink tinging his ears as you offered to make another sandwich for him. He had assured you everything you had made was enough and now a half pot of coffee sits in mugs in front of you each, brownies bitten into after dipping it in the frosting you had made.

As soon as his two were swallowed, he turned beseeching, wide eyes to you and you found moving to stand between his legs. His arms were so warm around you, the food and his company weighing you down in the best way as you wrap your own around his neck. His face is buried in your chest while you press a kiss to his steel curls, something that worries you for a split second before he sighs out a small ‘you’re so soft, sweetheart’.

“I-I want to talk more, but,” Your weight sagged against him, his arms tightening around you to help keep you on your feet. “I’m so tired, Joel. I think I need to lay down.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand, lemme just- I’ll clean up lunch and get out of your hair, go on and rest.” But you didn’t move, your breath hitching as you leaned back enough to peer up at him. Your eyes surely gave away how drained you were, but you weren’t quite yet ready to let him go. Even if things were a little stilted and there was so much to discuss. Right now you just wanted to lay down, to get off your feet and relieve some of the tension on your stitches.

“W-will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He follows silently behind you, boots thudding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Each step matching the beating of your heart. Through the door and into your room, you realize he must’ve already been in here, it was so tidy and the laundry that had piled up was neatly folded atop your dresser.

If he’s just as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. Seemingly taking things as they come, letting you shrug him from the flannel you had unbuttoned. When you move your hands to the buckle of his belt, one of his large hands covers both of yours. Looking up, you reassure him nothing has to happen and that you aren’t ready for anything to happen but you don’t want the denim on your clean sheets. He nods, letting you continue to disrobe him. A shaky laugh falls from his plush lips as you notice the line of him through his boxer briefs, it twitches under your quick glance, and you feel a swoop in your own stomach in response.

He asks if you need to change to, offering to turn around. But you grip his wrists and bring his hands to the ties at the side. It’s a loose thing, to help you manage to move around better, the prospect of pants and a belt too daunting despite the season. He carefully lifts the fabric from your body, his eyes on your face the entire time, even as the clothing falls to pile on top of his. With a nervous giggle, you lead him to the bed and you both get comfortable underneath the covers. It’s early, not even the sun has set, but neither of you seem to mind the time.

He's settled against the pillows when you reach out a hand on your normal side of the bed, fingers tangling with his as you lay slightly on your side toward him. The bandages around your middle are obvious underneath the camisole you wear with your underwear. He’s facing you too, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I want to.” Your words are barely above a whisper, as you take in the image he creates beside you, filling the empty part of your bed with his broad frame. His steel curls flattened on the pillow, his warmth only a few inches away, his eyes soft and watching you as you collect the words from your mind to fill your tongue. It had been something you yearned for since that first brush of his hand against yours, that first smile you managed to pull from him with an offhand comment, from the first moment he asked you a question in return to one of your own. Even if someone else had shown you the same kindness, his would be the one you sought after. “Be with you.”

“I want that too, sweetheart, more’n anything, but…I hurt you. I know that, I was careless in my attempts to be careful, to not push you. To…surprise you with what I wanted to be the first thing I gifted you.”

“Tommy told me. You know I thought some kids stole that piece of the trunk?” Your eyes glitter with a hint of mirth, teasing tone light and reminiscent of times past. It’s fleeting, the bone deep exhaustion settled in your body not only physical but mental. “I…Joel, I worry about…everything. All the time. You deserve to the chance to thrive here, for Ellie to thrive here and…being with me would-“

“I’d choose you over the town any day, you’ve gotta know that. Me and Ellie, we’ve been through a lot but we’re tough, you don’t gotta worry about us. I know…that people see her lack of manners and anxious tendencies as something that needs to be fixed. Maybe, yeah, the little troublemaker could stand to hold her tongue sometimes but she’s so young, she’s got a lot to unlearn from being raised the way she was. She’s a good kid, she’s good but you are too. We’ll take it slow, because I haven’t done this dance in while, hell, ever really. And I want to do it right, I want to be what you want because I definitely know you don’t need me.”

“I haven’t needed for anything in a long time, but Joel Miller believe me when I saw my days are better when they’re spent with you. Even…even the bad ones to an extent.”

“I’ll apologize a thousand times.” He tightens his grip, tired eyes trained on them. There’s a sadness to them, the depths of which he had let you glimpse once before. Loss, pain, devastation in the wake of when the world has broken and then turned into. You share in that sadness, having lost the person you had devoted your life to protecting, having lost the life you had just begun to flourish in before it was ripped from your hands, having lost a child that you could still hear crying in your sleep some nights…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the need for comfort from the one person you wanted it from, needed it from. It was true that you had been complacent before him, not concerned with the things people felt the need to pursue in the lives they felt safe enough to pursue here in the town. That he stroked yearning in the very core of who you were, something you hadn’t ever experienced even back when the world was thriving and bustling as it once had been.

“Can we j-just kiss a-and start to move for-forward?”  

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I exactly deserve that right now…” Your face falls. The small, shy smile dipping and the sides of your mouth dropping into a frown as you feel the burn of tears prickle again behind your cheeks. The rejection hurts, even if you understand why he feels that way and agree with him to an extent that this situation isn’t going to magically fix itself.

“But I do.”

He doesn’t even think to argue, not with the way that he’s leaning close to touch his soft lips to yours as soon as the words leave them.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” Joel’s whisper roused you, so close you reached for him. Long fingers curling around his wrist, nails lightly scratching the soft skin there. He felt the cumulation of inching out of bed slowly and quietly to not wake you as the vain attempt it was. He should’ve known his efforts would be fruitless, his resolve chipping away to nothing when you breathed his name out on a sleepy sigh. “I got training patrol. Be back early this afternoon, bring you something from the mess hall, alright sweetheart?”

You only hummed in response, lips pressed against his wrist now, sending tingling trickles of sensation all over his body at the easy way in which you displayed your affection for him now. It had been a couple of weeks. Two weeks of you making dinner one night, then walking him through another the next day. Of coffee in the mornings when he wasn’t busy, the never-ending list housed on the spiral notepad in his back pocket present in only the worn fabric over his pockets, the actual thing mysteriously gone. A break for the season, he has said when you asked him, palming the fabric of his back pockets one day.

As you lay in bed, dozing back off in the wake of his departure, Joel is outside the gates with a nervous Millie astride a horse beside him. They stop on as Joel figures an open field a few miles away would be the best bet for practice. Far enough for the sound of gunfire to not echo back and alarm people but close enough to rush back should something go awry.

“Know anythin’ about guns?” He looks over to the younger woman, her eyes wide and her head on a swivel as she constantly takes in her surrounds. He feels a little bad that she’s so on edge, but the only way to make her more comfortable is to get her out more and more. Allow her to see that it doesn’t have to be all bad. But he does understand her reaction, she’s never been outside the walls, had never been outside the town that it was before the walls went up. She had been younger than you when the world shattered, had people to look after her and care for her.

“My daddy taught me how to shoot them when the world fell apart. But that was…a long time ago now.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna see what suits you better. On patrol we use shotguns, but a handgun will do in a pinch. The key is range, keeping any threat as far away as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” She watches him closely as he removes the shotgun slung around his back. He checks that the safety is secured and he holds it out to her as she moves to stand beside him at the beckoning of his hand. He walks her through the general mechanics of the gun, firm in her not placing her finger on the trigger until she was ready to shoot.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Um…I favor my left.” He hands off the gun to her, telling her to practice her grip on the large gun while he rummages in one of the packs attached to his saddle. He’s got a cloth bag that he fills with snow and ice that coats the ground, propping it up a good distance away on top of a long dead tree stump.

Time passes and her aim gets a little better, though she’s taking too long to line up her shots. Joel reminds her to just take a breath in and shoot as she exhales. But the words cut off as he sees movement on the horizon of their spot on in the field. He’s off a ways from her, by the target he had set up for the woman to practice on. He’s turned to hold a halting hand up to her before he takes his own gun out from the holster and puts one of them down.

Another sprints from the cover of the forest nearby, but he’s focused on taking down the other two far too close for comfort. Just as he turns to take out the one closing in on him, it lunges and he’s struggling not to fall with the sudden weight slamming into him. His gun goes flying and he curses out as he tries to fend it off with his arms, the snapping of its mangled teeth loud and far too close to his face.

He wishes he had spent a few more minutes with you in bed, pressing his lips to your forehead to your cheek, to your plush lips, to any part of your body he could as the bullet ripped through him and pain sparked hot across his entire chest. Through it, he manages throw the stunned thing to the ground, another shot flying from across the field to land directly in the back its head. Joel is looking up as he bends down to retrieve his gun, his other hand pressing hard to the burning in his shoulder. Millie is too focused on him to see the blur running toward her, too late in her shifting attention as it grips her shoulder tights. Taking a deep breath, Joel tries to focus as best he can to line up his aim and take out the single Infected that remained.

He shoots and it goes down.

His shoulder throbs and his vision darkens at the edges.

“Joel!” You shout, simmering panic making you forget common manners as you burst through the door leading into the main exam room of the infirmary. There are three beds lined up on the opposite wall, other rooms set up for more serious cases that required overnight stays. Millie and Joel are settled into two of them, the younger trembling and holding her right shoulder while Joel is pressing a kerchief to his front, blood soaking it through.

Marsha is already plastered to the side of her daughter’s bed. Making no noise whatsoever, which was just as uncomforting as you realized how pale she they both were. Blood splattered over Joel while Millie looked relatively unharmed.

Millie launches into a jumble of words as she gets up from the bed, but you stop her in your tracks with a chilling look over your shoulder as you go immediately to Joel’s side.

“You need to back the fuck up, Millie. I told you I’m not engaging with you anymore, now go back to your own bed and mind your business.”

Turning from them, your eyes land on Joel and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the bed. Your heart stutters, as does your voice the closer you get to him.

“You two are just perfect for each other with your penchant for harsh words.” Jealousy was ugly on the older woman, making her act out towards you but more concerningly towards Joel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, even in the moments he had let his anger flare around her and he scolded her for her manipulation and childish behavior. He had told you all about it, about every interaction between them to tide your hurt feelings and assumptions about them. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had wanted to be completely transparent. To share with you the things he experienced.

“And you would be just perfect for recognizing harsh words, wouldn’t you?” You fire back, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at the woman who had caused so much grief and anxiety. Your words seem to stun her, as she doesn’t rebuff you in anyway, but you feel guilt flash at the kneejerk reaction, still so worried about upsetting anyone or instigating anything remotely unfriendly. But Joel was bleeding and it you were far more worried about him at the moment.

“What ha-hap-happened? That’s so mu-much blood!”.”  You ask him quietly, concerned with how his unseen injuries could be affecting him. His fingers twitch, letting you know he was trying to reach out for you. You sidle up beside him, hands reaching for his left as your wide eyes take in the expanse of his naked chest. The nurse has on pink stained white. One of the nurses bursts through the open door, ignoring the tension in the room, quickly getting to work with the tray of equipment she brought in. Her pristine gloves immediately take on a pink stain, blood gushing over his front as she digs a pair of long tweezers into a large bullet hole. She exposes in his right shoulder once she peels back the collar of his jacket and cuts away the tattered collar of his undershirt. “J-Joel, did you g-get ambushed by In-Infected? Or was it peop-people?”

“Was an accident.” He grunts out, hand tightening over yours as the nurse works to stall the bleeding.

“Millie sh-shot you?” You feel ire bubble up ugly and thick, heart beating hard at the thought of Joel out there with no protection other than the person in question, the person who had no idea how to begin to fend for herself or an injured person beyond the walls. She had been so young when the world broke, a few years younger than Aiden had been when you took him as your responsibility, his parents being the first to turn in the restaurant.

“Oh, would you shut up with that god-awful stuttering? Grown woman can’t even speak properly in a moment of crisis.”

“Mother!”

“Making a bad situation worse by simply being here, why don’t you let the nurse take care of him and just leave?”

“Mother, enough! That is no way to talk to Olive, she puts her life on the line every time she goes out beyond the walls. She and Mr. Miller have helped to make this a safe place, you should show her respect and leave her be!”

“Millie Antoinette, that is no way to speak to me.”

“You’re going to lecture me on language with the way you’ve been slinging backhanded insults about Olive all these years? Blaming her for something completely out of her control, berating her for her stutter when you know she can’t help it because the whole town makes her feel like she’s walking on eggshells.”

“This conversation is not over, we will continue this at home.”

Finally turning to look over your shoulder at the way she began to take out her frustrations on Millie, your eyes were set hard and your displeasure was obvious as you took in the way Millie’s good arm was being held far too tightly by the woman.

“Why do-don’t you just keep my na-name out of any future conversations you may have. You’ve caused enough damage, your own daughter paying for your actions and getting injured because of it. Joel getting injured because of it. No one is to blame but you and the influence you’ve lorded over her all these years. Twisting and tainting the memory of the man she loved, the man I devoted my life to protecting and ensuring he got to live a somewhat normal one after the world fell apart. He wouldn’t have wanted her to harbor such ill feelings toward me, toward what happened. But you turned it into something to use against me and you hurt her worst of all, teaching her it was okay to behave like such a child!” Your

You’re breathing heavy by the end of your outburst, finding your voice after stuttering through the first words. Unconsciously reaching for and tightening the hold on Joel’s hand through the entire exchange. He squeezes it in reassurance, through the nurse’s ministrations.

“You tell ‘er.” Joel slurs as the nurse secured a large patch of gauze over his would, betadine staining the edges of the material. The action of pressing down the tape around the corners making him hiss out a pained breath and your attention focuses on him once again.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful little-“ You could feel her approach you from behind and you let go of Joel’s hand, not wanting to jostle him should she push or shove you. She was about your height so when you swung your hand out, your palm landed right on her cheek with enough force to turn her head as the sharp slap echoed around the room.

Red blossomed bright on her skin. Her fingers twitched and you landed another hit without thinking before she could make a more intentional move.

“I know you were not about to touch me,” The feeling of your lip lifting up in a slight snarl was unpleasant, but you couldn’t help the visceral reaction to the woman after everything she had done.

Even in the wake of trying to be polite and cordial with her when you thought her and Joel were a thing, she had shown you thinly veiled niceness in return. Her eyes always watching, much like a hawk stalking its prey. But you wouldn’t be her prey any longer, unwilling to play the part she had bestowed upon you for no good reason. You weren’t a malicious person, you weren’t a violent person. Not anymore. You were kind and thoughtful and did everything you could to be nice and help out where you were needed or wanted, and you would not put up with the woman any longer.

She raised her hand up once the shock of your quick movement wore off and you used the back of your forearm to knock it down, your hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist in your grip. Her widened eyes found yours and you hoped, fleetingly, that she was unnerved. She cried out when her wrist began to smart underneath the force of your grip, trying to pull it from you but you didn’t budge. She was a fool to think using her free hand to pry at the fingers you had wrapped around her to no avail. You saw the thought for her to raise it at you flash across her face before you felt Joel’s hand gently pull at the back of your sweater.

“That’s enough, Marsha.” Maria’s voice was harsh, cutting into the scene suddenly. “Seeing as your daughter is in good hands, let’s have a little chat.”

The woman’s harsh expression, the twist of her mouth about to shape around a degrading insult, the furrow of her brow as she focused on you, it all fell away the second she realized she had an audience.

The nurse tending to Joel moved silently from Joel’s bedside to Millie’s as you released Marsha from your hold to follow behind Maria.

“Olive, I am so sorry. For everything. You’re right, Aiden wouldn’t have wanted any of this. I-I feel so…badly for how I’ve ignored you all these years when I should’ve been there to comfort you. You lost him too.” Millie cries as the nurse tends to her bruised and swollen shoulder, there now that Joel is taken care of. There was a large bruise marring her skin that was around angry looking welts, scratches that looked like they hadn’t broken the skin, no doubt from whatever occurred outside the walls. You tried focus on her, but it was hard with the adrenaline of confronting Marha thumping harshly through your entire body, Joel could surely feel the trembles where he held onto you.

“We were practicing shootin’ and a group of five or six of ‘em came outta the trees.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you began to peel back his opened flannel and shoved up the shirt he had on underneath. Hands frantic as you felt all around his body for signs of a bite. When you brushed against his groin to move down to his legs to check underneath the denim, you noticed he had fallen quiet. Looking up at him from where you were inspecting his shins, you clocked the way he rested the inside of his wrist over his zipper and belt buckle. His face was tinged a little pink at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“You could’ve led with that!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Millie shot the one that almost got me, but the first shot missed and then she took it down. She didn’t see the one comin’ up behind her cause she was so focused on helpin’ me.”

“Just lay back,” You croon sweetly, gently pushing the bulk of him to sit atop the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel groans, adjusting his hips as he scoots up to lean against the plush headboard.

It’s soft everywhere in your room, from the fabric of the headboard to your sheets and covers, to the dried flowers and sheer curtains hanging over the windows. He feels swaddled in the best way, completely wrapped up in the little world you’ve created in your space. The mix of him seen interspersed between your many books lining new shelves he crafted for you to replace the old, creaking ones worn down over time. A carved serving plate he had made for you, atop your bedside table and housing a tube of hand lotion, a note left from him the other day when he had to leave in the early hours. One of his flannels hanging up from a set of floral hooks he had made to go on the back of your door.

He was just a present influence in your home as you were in his. From the multiple bottles of oil scattered about his stove top, to the leftovers clearly labeled and stored in his fridge, to the pair of underwear that had ended up nestled with his in the top drawer of his dresser. The very ones you wore underneath his shirts when you slept over in his bed, making the sheets smell a heady combination of you both that had him seeing you in his dreams even more.

It had been a slow dance of homemade dinners, of nights spent in each other’s bed, of searing kisses and soft words shared between you both over the last two months. Both healed from the events that had allowed for the confusing and heartbreaking one to shift to this one, where it was obvious you both wanted each other, both had so much adoration for each other. But you were still so shy around Joel,  never letting things go further than wandering hands sneaking beneath clothing.

But tonight, you were feeling so encompassed by the need to see him, to touch him, to be seen and touched by him in return. Tommy had let slip it was your birthday tomorrow when he asked if you were still coming around his and Maria’s for dinner. Joel had been confused why you hadn’t shared that with him, you knew when his birthday was after all. And everything that came tangled with the date.

“Joel,” You whispered against his lips, having moved to hover over his lap with your arms atop his shoulders. His hair had grown long, the thick locks brushed back by his large hands to swoop into gorgeous curls behind his ears and over the back of his neck. Nearly brushing the tops of his broad shoulders, he groaned out as you toyed with the ends of the long locks now. Nervous energy made it hard to keep your hands still and you confessed quietly as you ran your fingers through the curls. “I…I need to tell you something before we- before we, um, do this.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes blink open, concern and worry glinting in them as he takes in the way you’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Just wanna be with you, no matter what.”

You start and stutter a few times, the words trailing off as your emotions spike and memories find their way to the surface. But it was the right thing to do, to share this part of your past with him. The potential for the mood to be ruined all to glaring as you realized it would be one of the heavier things you shared with the man who had become you partner in every definition of the word.

“Joel, I…I don’t have, um, I don’t have all my…parts.” Waving a hand over your lower stomach, right where you rested over his own. His confusion was obvious as he focused on the part of your body in question, his plush lips parting as he contemplated how to better ask for clarification. But you leaned back a little, your thighs tightened around his hips as you did so to pick up the hem of your camisole and unbutton the jeans you were still dressed in. A faded but thick scar ran from the bottom of your belly button, swooping below it in an imitation of a smile and then down in a straight line from the middle to disappear beneath the band of your underwear. It was completely healed, but still pink in discoloration.

“The doctors at the QZ we briefly stayed at in the beginning of everything…they did a hysterectomy after I had my…son.”

“Olive…” His hands raise from where they were around your hips, shaking slightly as he pauses in his reach to caress the marred skin. His eyes flash up to meet yours in a silent question for consent and at a small nod, he brushes the knuckle of his index finger over it. Shuddering at the soft touch, you watch the way emotions flit across his weathered face.

“They weren’t nice about it, I still…I still have pretty vivid nightmares about it because there was very little anesthesia, something about rationing the drugs and it…it was one of the most painful things I’ve had to endure. But…I thought you-you should know because I know you have some years on me, and you said you don’t think…an accident would happen and you seemed genuinely concerned because of my age. But it wo-won’t because of this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel presses the palm of his right hand over the scar, the warmth of his skin soothing just as much as the kiss he placed on your cheek. “You’re…you’re okay though?”

“As okay as I can be about it,” You consoled his worry, breath hitching as he gently caressed the skin beneath his hand. “I waited until I was healed a year, when the threat of infection was long gone, then I took Aiden and…and Ezra and I got us the hell out of there.”

He didn’t ask how you lost Ezra, he didn’t berate you for your choice to leave the QZ, he didn’t ask how you had even ended up in that situation in the first place. He didn’t do anything but slowly move to where your back was on the bed, and he was hovering over you. Soft kisses and the brush of his mustache trailing over every inch of skin he could see. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of your top in a silent question, and you sat up enough to allow him to life the garment from your body. Willing to show yourself to him, to take the offer of his soothing comfort. His breath puffed out at the sight of your naked chest, his fingers skimming up to brush against the supple skin and hardened peaks now on full display.

He clocks the way your fingers move to the buttons of his flannel and fumble, prompting him to take over for you to push it off his own shoulders, his undershirt disappearing along with it to the floorboards. But before you can move onto his belt, he’s gently pressing you back to the bed and pressing the plush softness of his lips to your body, trailing lower and lower until he brushes them so lightly over your scar.

Your breath hitches and you can feel the small smile as he takes his time to worship your body. To sooth the emotions he must know it took to confess something so big, to engage with him in this way even if you wanted to. Mind’s always tickin’ he would tease, no heat behind his words, but adoration.  

Fingers skimming over soft skin, the callouses of time and skill a heady sensation over it ahead of his lips, he slowly shimmies the undone fabric of your jeans down your legs. He takes the time to undo and step out of his own pair before he’s back on the bed, attention focused on your legs as he begins to move up, up, up. Only giving you the barest of chances to take in the thick line of his hard cock as it twitches beneath dark fabric.

His fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear from where his palms rest wide on your upper thighs, his mouth suckling the plush skin before him. His lips feel like heaven, like finally stepping through your front door after a long shift, like a hot bath after a long day, like a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. It feels like home. Startling slightly at the sudden press of his nose to your clothed core, you feel more than hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“This okay, not too much?”

“Not too much,” you assure, lifting your hips to allow him to drag the fabric down. Heat blooms in your chest, worry for not being as pretty as someone else or as groomed as you used to be. But all of your anxieties and insecurities fade away as you look down and see the way his eyes are trained on your glistening cunt. He groans out as he drags the beck of a knuckle over your puffy outer lips, reveling in the jerk of your hips at the light contact.

“’s pretty, sweetheart. So perfect.” Is all the warning he gives you before he’s spreading you open with both of his hands and burying his face between your thighs. A long, warm wet lick with the flat of his tongue from one end of you to the other has your head thudding against the pillows and your hands searching for purchase in his hair.  Pleasure sparkles all over your body, glitters behind your eyes as he tastes you, suckles that little bundle of nerves, as he gently glides two of his thick, warm fingers right inside and curves them up.

His name is a strangled sound puffed into the air, your breath hitching in the way he admitted to loving so much as he begins to pet your inside walls with his fingertips, his lips latched around your clit. His patchy scruff and mustache adding to the feel of him against your skin, against the most intimate part of you he’s taking his time in pleasuring. It takes everything you have to lift your head enough to peer through bleary eyes to find him already staring up at you. His pupils blown so wide there’s no hint of the deep brown they’re made up of. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tops of his cheeks barely visible a deep hue of pink as he worships you.

While still holding your gaze, he purses his lips and sucks, turning the sparkles of pleasure into hot waves as they overtake you. Your body isn’t your own any longer as it tenses, back arching clean off bed, your thighs clenching around his ears. Your lost in the force of the pleasure he pulled from you as easily as breathing, taken every moan and sigh as signals to what you liked best, listening to your body like he was meant to. It’s no longer yours but his.

“They’re we go, so good, sweetheart. You taste so good,” He murmurs as he helps your through the crest before pulling again to palm at himself through his underwear with one hand, the other holding your bucking hips down to clean every last bit of your release from where his fingers are pulled from you.

Reaching for him, you tug at him, urging him up to his knees so you had run your palm over the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband. He moves his hand from where he’s holding himself through the fabric as your fingers sneak below and touch him for the first time. His hips cant, pressing firmly into your willing hand.

“Take these off, please.” You whisper as you wrap your hand around him, barely able to touch the tips of your fingers with the girth of him fully hard. He’s hot against your skin, velvet soft over the rigidness of his cock. Finally seeing all of him as he pulls the fabric down and pushes it past his thighs. You let him go for him to toss them over the side of the bed, eyes taking in the stretch of his body through the action.

He’s peppered with freckles over his tan skin, chest covered in thick hair that’s the same steel grey of his curls, thick thighs tensed with the way he sits before you on his knees. He’s littered with scars, some thin and crisscrossing over each other, some raised thick to disrupt the smoothness of his skin, though none hold the same untold story of the one at his temple. The one he lets you brush softly before sleep. But they don’t take away from his beauty, they enhance it and let you know without a doubt he’s a fighter.

His cock is thick and long, ruddy at the tip and bobbing despite the heft to kiss his stomach as you eye him up and down. Every inch of him is beautiful and you tell him with a sigh, body singing for him to come back to you. Locking eyes with him, you see his own insecurities wash away at the wonder and admiration you gaze at him with.

As soon as you move to reach for him, he’s doing the same. Mouths connecting and laying his body over yours to feel every bit of your skin against his that he can manage, your legs parting to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the bump of his tip to your folds, the breathy sound turning into a moan when he grinds down against you, his hands tangling in your hair as he swallows it straight from your lips.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he reaches down to grip himself, guiding the ruddy tip to your entrance and holding his breath for the barest of seconds. You nod, unable to form words so wrapped around him, so covered by him, to consumed by him and what he means to you. Twin moans decorate the air as he pushes in, the girth of him stretching you and causing heat to lick at every single nerve.

It’s soft and slow, sensual the way he moves against you. Taking in the moment for all that it is, showing you in the most intimate way what you mean to him as you feel how deep he gets with every thrust. But when you moan out for him to go harder, to go faster – he willingly obliges. The slow roll of his hips shifting into quick snaps against yours, a hand gripping your thigh over his shoulder as he presses down in such a delicious way. You can tell you startle him when you cry out, the head of his cock catching that perfect spot, as your hands scrabble at his shoulders and your nails dig into the freckles skin of his broad back.

Sighing, you take a moment to stretch out your shoulders once you remove the apron from around your neck. It’s well into February and you’ve take back control of the morning shift at the mess hall.

Marsha had done a…well, she hadn’t done the best, but Maria had stepped in the week before you had been due back. To ensure everything was exactly the way you preferred it. It had been a lot of long early morning shifts on top of staying through the lunch service. You had tried to stifle your amusement at Maria complaining about how fast the woman had tried to get through cleaning tasks to get home before the sun set. None of it had been good enough for Maria, knowing that you dedicated yourself to making sure things were not only clean but ‘Olive clean’ as she termed it. Turning the whole dining room and setting up the kitchen for a smooth open the next morning since dinner was normally left to the individual households or the Tipsy Bison.

Part of her punishment was formally apologizing to you and thanking you for your service to the town, but it hadn’t happened. You weren’t holding your breath for it to happen, either. It wouldn’t undo all the anxiety and hesitancy you still had even now interacting with anyone outside of your very small circle.

“Miss Olive?” The sudden voice of someone peeking their head through the swinging door that led into the kitchen caught you off guard. “Oh shoot, I am so sorry! I didn’t meant startle you.”

“Oh, it’s okay, just lost in my own head. How can I help you?”

They step inside, an older couple that comes at the same time everyday, enjoying the quiet before the rest of the residents make their way into the dining room.

“Just wanted to say it was a good meal this morning. We really appreciate all the work you put in providing for the town. Glad to have you back in the swing of things.”

“Oh! Well, th-thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed today, had a couple friends urge me to include the pastries.” They nod at you, waving before turning away and disappearing back through the door. A smile graces your lips as you shrug on your coat and wrap a scarf around your neck. The kind words help you to trudge your way through the built up snow from the night before, none of it having melted once the sun rose. The winds are still sharp, piercing in their added chill to the air.

Your home is nice and toasty when you enter, intending to shower the splash of porridge that had gotten you, sinking into your skin even after you had wiped off. But you pause when you catch the scent of fresh coffee and hear a distant grunting coming from your back room. Instincts taking over, you reach for the bat leaning up against the corner behind the front door.

“Hello?” You call out, unsure of who would be in house since Joel was supposed to be on patrol with Ellie. Maria and Tommy wrapped up in council meetings with Macon dropped off at the school to be watched over.

“Jus’ me! Shit-“ A loud thud cuts off Joel’s words and you’re rushing down the hall to find him crouching on the floor, hands busy holding the framework of a shelving unit where it had tilted over. “Hey, sweetheart, wanted to have this done by the time you got back.”

You had torn out the old shelves of the back room, the wall smoothed and painted over a few days ago when you had tried to reorganize everything and one of them came crashing down. Ellie had been over a week or so ago, indulging in your vinyl collection as she did homework while she stayed the night, Joel on an overnight patrol. Apparently, she had shared with him the scary moment that prompted the change to the wall.

“Are you okay?” The words rush out as you move around him to help push the large structure back onto it’s base. He sighs as he stands, knees cracking from the added weight of the wood against him as he tensed and braced against it. When he did, your eyes rove over him to ensure he really was okay. Then the bump on his forehead catches your attention as he looks over to you. It’s red and slightly swollen.

You see the small scrape on his cheek, blood beading up along the thin lines.

“Damn thing just shifted as I was adjusting the line up. ‘m okay, promise.”

But you close in on him, hands cupping his face as you pull it down to you, brushing your lips lightly against the bump as his hands wrap around your waist. Shifting down, you kiss just below the thin scrapes, not wanting to pull at them or irritate them further before reaching for a kerchief from your back pocket and dabbing lightly at the blood. Pulling back to peer into his eyes, you see the almost shy way he’s looking from you to the shelving unit.

“There,” You press your lips to his next, his eyes fluttering shut at the swipe of your tongue against his plush bottom one. He swallows the sound that bursts from your chest as he pulls you close. He tastes like the coffee you had smelled when you first walked through the front door. Humming out an, “All better.”

His grin is bright, the dimple in his right cheek fluttering your stomach as you catch sight of it hidden in his scruff.

“All better.” He parrots before shifting you both so your back is to the wall he had been working on installing the shelving unit against. “But you ain’t supposed to be home yet. Your present isn’t ready.”

“Present? I didn’t ask for anything, Joel Miller.” You crane your head around to try and look at what he was doing, too concerned with him to see what he had been trying to do exactly. But he brought a hand up from your waist to grip at your chin and he halted the movement. “And aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Ellie?”

“Traded off with Tommy, told ‘im I had something important to do today.”

“Joel…”

“Nu-uh. You’ll have to wait to see it, birthday girl. Macon is due for pick up in an hour,” You huff a laugh as he bends his knees to lift your weight and toss it over his wide shoulder. Hair falling loose around your face, it’s impossible to see anything as he struts out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. He sets you down atop the vanity counter with a light of his own at how disheveled your hair got.

“So pretty,” He muses quietly as he brushes it from your face and tucks it behind an ear. Heat creeps up your face, still not used to such open compliments from the handsome man. Stepping away for a moment, he fiddles with the shower knobs to get the water going, ensuring it’s the perfect temperature that you prefer. He helps you to disrobe, trailing his lips over every inch of your upper body as it becomes exposed before ushering you into the stall with a parting kiss. We’ll head over to Tommy’s for an early dinner once I’m finished up here, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dinner was a small affair, Ellie using one of the recipe cards you had made for Joel to attempt her hand at a casserole and a cake. The noodles were far too mushy and the cheese was a little too crusted, but you wouldn’t trade her bright smile as she set it down with a flourish for anything in the world. The cake was a touch better, the frosting smooth in most places and the perfect amount of sweetness to counteract the rich chocolate she had been adventurous in trying out. Two candles were lit atop it after meal, her smile infectious as you thanked her and reached to squeeze her smaller frame to yours.

“Alright, alright. Now make a wish and blow them out!” She was excited, Macon imitating her as he bounced in your lap.

“Macon, want to help me?” He gurgled his agreement, barely able to hold his head up and only for short bursts of time. But he pursed his lips as you leaned closer to the cake and blew. He made a sputtering sound, bubbles forming at the corners of his lips and everyone laughed as he seemed shocked at the smoke lifting from the now spent candles. You looked over to Joel, catching the soft smile he was sporting as he watched on.

But you were both in your home now, having left at the assurance of dinner being cleaned up and the kitchen tidied. You were standing in the back room, taking in the sight of what he had been working on all day. Floor to ceiling shelves had been installed on the wall that was shared with the kitchen on the other side. The supplies you kept for the harvest from the olive trees aesthetically placed in the cubbies.

“Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” You felt the heat of him as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His deep voice was so close as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. He guided you out of the room and across the hall to your bedroom, waddling his frame around yours as he refused to let go.

“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” He whispered, as if it was a secret he was hoping to be privy to, your breath hitched as you turned in his arms and snaked your hands around his neck.

“Nothin’, just…for everything to keep on the way it has been. I’ve got everything I need.” You leaned up and kissed him, his hands tightened around your waist, and you giggled as he dipped you a little with his enthusiasm. You could feel his own smile as his lips moved against yours and you breathed out one last laugh before pivoting your bodies toward the bed. He let you, so willing underneath your touch.

The next morning you both rise early before the sun, helping each other dress and then walk hand in hand toward the stables, boots crunching over the thin ice that had formed overnight. Just as you lead Lowry through the gates, Joel astride is own horse, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

Your eyes trail over him, landing on the worn fabric of his back pocket, the spiral top of his notepad tucked securely inside. It turns out the faded patch was your business after all and you smile at him in return as he speaks.

“So what’s your favorite movie?”

You answer him honestly, earning a huff of slight exasperation for your answer. Turning the question on him as the sound of steady hoofbeats and soft conversation flows over the open plains of your morning route.

previous chapter || end

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#dev writes #fic: by the grit of sandpaper #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #jackson joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller series #carpenter joel miller #artisan joel miller #woodworking joel miller #soft joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #patrol partnership #jackson era joel #ao3 #archive of our own #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

[pr]

yeah turns out having to email responses to guests asking for refunds after a shooting at your job is um extremely soul sucking

#i hate that 1. this happened #2. this was the final week and we were supposed to be winding down and enjoying the final days #but now its ramping up in terms of the shit we have to do and the emotional/mental taxation #and feels totally endless #this sucks soooooo bad lol #op

[westviewtroubles]

Look Into Me

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Synopsis: It's finally time for your first date with Eddie.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: fluff! so fluffy i'm getting a toothache!

A/N: I had to write it. I had to! I actually have a few series along with some oneshots planned, but I just had to write it. Here, in all it's glory, is the third installment to "Across The Room." This can be read as a standalone, however I recommend reading the two installments before this one!

Part 1 and Part 2

It was a morning sure to go down in history, Eddie running around the trailer like a headless chicken, his hair flowing behind him. It had been a week since you'd agreed to go on a date with him, and he'd spent every night after that thinking about you, and how he could make sure you'd have the best date possible.

He could still vividly remember the way you got on the tips of your toes, giving him a kiss on his cheek and whispering into his ear, accepting his invitation. He could barely sleep the night after, his cheek still burning up where you'd kissed him.

All of his dreams were plagued by how it'd feel to actually kiss you, how soft your lips would feel against his, and how he'd have to bend down slightly in order to actually reach your lips. He couldn't stop thinking about how soft your hands might be, compared to his calloused ones, or how giddy it might make him to be able to wrap his arm around your waist with a smug look on his face, knowing he was holding onto the prettiest girl of Hawkins High.

The only downside was that his uncle now likely thought he was going insane, as the evening before included Eddie running around in a similar way that he was doing now, making sure that his best black jeans and his favorite jean vest were washed, Wayne wondering what the hell had gotten into his nephew.

But now, with only thirty minutes left before he was supposed to pick you up, every single one of his thoughts seemed to be scattered around.

Somehow, you felt the most energetic you had in years, despite only sleeping a little bit over five hours. You had no idea why you'd put an alarm for 6AM, despite having agreed with Eddie that he'd come to pick you up at 12AM, but now, five minutes to twelve, you were relieved that you had.

You couldn't get yourself to believe what was about to happen, that for some reason, the guy you'd been pining over since the first time you'd seen him, was taking you out on a date.

The first time you saw him, it was the first day of your third year and your first day at Hawkins High, as your father had gotten some high-paying government job, and decided to uproot your entire life after living in the same house for your entire life.

You didn't know anyone there, and you were completely freaking out. The school was empty of students, almost making you think that it was some holiday, but then you saw him.

It was only for a brief moment, but when he saw you, he smiled. And somehow, that smile managed to kill every feeling of nervousness inside you. From then on out, you'd seek him out in every room you were in, and when you saw him smile, you felt nothing but warmth.

Maybe he knew that you were thinking about him, because at that moment, you heard your doorbell ring. And with one deep breath, you rushed down the stairs.

Eddie could almost feel his jaw drop to the ground when the door in front of him swung open. You stood there with a open-mouthed smile, a sudden gust of wind brushing some of your hair back.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked, cocking your head slightly, your hand gripping a small bag, and the thoughts about holding your hand came rushing to him.

"Yeah, definitely." Eddie said, clearing his throat, "I had a few thoughts about what we could do."

Few thoughts. As if he hadn't been planning it ever since you'd agreed.

"Sounds good!"

The situation finally started to feel real to you once you'd climbed into Eddie's van. It wasn't like you hadn't hung out a hundred times before, but this felt different. This was different.

The ten minutes that had already went by had been spent in complete silence. Well, there had been one word. As soon as Eddie had turned on the engine of his van, a metal song you hadn't heard before started blasting on full volume, the boy turning it off and sheepishly muttering an apology. For some reason, you thought that was the most endearing thing ever.

"So." You cleared your throat, determined to end the silence between you two, "How's history going for you?"

As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted them. Stupid. You studied with him every other day, you already knew how history was going for him. But even though you saw your question as the dumbest thing to ask him, he chuckled.

"It's going alright." Eddie said, keeping one of his hands on the steering wheel while using his other hand to brush hair away from his face, "How's it going for you?"

"Well, we had a test last week," You looked down at your freshly manicured hands, "and after grading them, Mrs. Click said that I was the only one to get full points."

"That's my girl."

And when those words left his lips, you could feel your heart doing somersaults. Looking to him, you saw the small, victorious smile on his lips as he drove, your heart pounding against your chest when he momentarily turned his gaze to you, his smile only widening.

Eddie had never understood any of those cheesy love songs about someone's heart coming to a pause as soon as they saw someone, but at that moment, he was sure he was living in one.

You stood a small distance away from him, your back to him. The tall grass went up to your knees, and your attention was taken by the flowers peeking from the ground. Something about the blue sundress made it look as if it was made for you, the hem flowing slightly along to the breeze.

He'd found the field of flowers the day of your first lesson, and it made him think of you, the daisies smelling exactly like your perfume. And when he saw you holding one of the flowers, it was like you belonged there.

The sun behind you looked like a halo that was surrounding him as you turned to look at him, the smile he'd come to know too well on your face, it took everything in him not to walk over to you and kiss you.

"Come smell it!" You urged, and it took him seconds to stand at your side as you pushed the flower to his face, "Doesn't it smell good?"

"It smells like you."

You simply shook your head, casually putting the flower behind your ear. "How did you find this place? It's so beautiful."

"One time, I was coming home from Hellfire when I got the urge to take a detour." Eddie laughed, looking to you, "That's when I saw this. It made me think of you."

You nudged him slightly, covering your eyes from the sun as you looked up at him, "Are you being serious or are you just being cheesy?"

Eddie gasped, feigning offence at your comment. "I can't believe you'd accuse me of being cheesy. Do I look like someone who would say something like that if I didn't mean it?"

"I guess not."

"Yeah, so stop questioning my integrity. It's insulting."

"Can't have that, can we?" You chuckled, taking hold of his hand like it was the most casual thing ever.

But he could feel his heart turning backwards inside his chest, the playful smile on your face just making it worse. Somehow, every single thing in the world made sense to him, while also being the most foreign thing ever. It wasn't like anything he had dreamed of, it was better.

Even the thought of him being half as excited as you were for your date was making you giddy, and by the amount of planning that seemed to have gone into the date, it seemed like he was just as happy to go on a date with you as you were to go with him.

The two of you sat in the back row at The Hawk, watching some action movie you'd already forgotten the name of. You'd already spent half of the movie staring at Eddie.

He'd only let your hand go when it was time to get back in his van, and to get out, but for the remainder of the time, it was clasped in yours, your fingers intertwined together. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

Eddie looked so beautiful, even in the dark, and you thought it unfair that even his side profile looked so breathtaking as he concentrated on the screen, his brows slightly furrowed and his tongue peeking out every now and then.

What you didn't expect, was for his lips to start moving out of nowhere.

"Are you bored?"

Even the way he whispered sent shivers down your spine as you stared up at him, slightly leaning towards him with dazed eyes. Eddie turned his head to look at you, a grin on his face.

"No." You said quietly, clearing your throat, "Why do you ask?"

"Because you haven't been paying any attention to the movie."

"I have!"

"Oh yeah? What's happened so far?"

"I don't have an answer if you're gonna put me on the spot like that."

"Sure. That's the reason why." He smiled, turning back to the movie while you kept gazing at him with a slack jaw.

He hadn't shown that spot to anyone. The small diner on the outskirts of Hawkins was his spot. And now, it was yours too.

The clouds outside had started turning grey, and you were sat in his usual booth in the corner of the diner, on different sides. Eddie thought it was so endearing how your eyes brightened up when you realized you were on a first-name basis with the waiter.

"So, I'm guessing you come here often." You said, sitting across from him, fiddling with the straw of your milkshake as the two of you were waiting for your food to arrive.

"It's one of my favorite spots, actually."

"How have I never heard of this place?" You asked, looking around, "I mean, it seems like it'd be popular."

"Give me some credit, you don't think I'd take you just anywhere for our first date?" He said, making you chuckle, "I found this almost ten years ago when I agreed to play hide and seek in the woods with some of the bigger kids."

"I was the first to seek, and over an hour went by and I hadn't found anyone. I was starting to get tired, and I had no idea where I was. That's when I stumbled across this diner, and I came in. Doris, our waitress, offered me a free milkshake and let me call my uncle."

"That's so sweet of her!" You exclaimed, "I'm happy you wanted to show me this place."

"I thought it was time I showed someone how awesome the burgers in this place are."

After clearing your throat, you started going through your bag. "I wanted to give you something." You said, slightly hesitant. "I hope you don't think it's weird, or anything."

You placed a folded piece of paper on the table, quickly pulling your hands away as to make sure you wouldn't snatch it back, taking a deep breath as Eddie took it off the table, slowly unfolding it with furrowed brows.

When he saw it, he felt as if a weight had been taken off his heart. He finally knew what was in your notebook that kept you so occupied, what you kept hiding away from him

Eddie smiled, looking at the picture of him that seemed like it was smiling back at him. The way you had drawn him was so beautiful, it would've made him feel like it was impossible for it to be of him if it wasn't for his name written on top of it with cursive with a heart next to it. Eddie couldn't believe this was how you saw him.

Nobody had ever given him something like that. Nobody had ever made him feel like his heart would burst out of his chest any moment. But somehow, ever since he set his eyes on you, it was all you seemed to do. And to think that you would feel the same, made him feel like the luckiest person in the world.

"It's amazing." He said, looking down at the drawing before looking up at you, "I can't believe you drew it."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely." He laughed like it was the most obvious thing ever, "I can't believe you'd make this. I hope you know, I'm gonna hang this up in my room and look at it every day. Shit, I'll buy a frame for it."

And the way you laughed made him want to pull your face to his and kiss you. Your face lit up, and he knew he'd never get sick of that laugh. That even, when everything else felt like ruin, your laugh would never stop being the brightest thing he'd ever see.

He brought his hand to your cheek, your laughter abruptly coming to an end as he rose up slightly, leaning over to you, his eyes basically pulled to your lips.

And as you were about to rise to your seat, he heard someone approaching the two of you, quickly sitting back down, leaving you to stare at him blankly.

The car ride back to your house had been quiet, but unlike the car ride to the field of flowers, this one wasn't tense, or awkward. You listened to the rain tapping on the roof of Eddie's van as he drove, his ring-clad hand still clasped in yours as you stared at the raindrops on your window.

"We're here." Eddie said softly, turning off the engine, and you turned your head to look at him, a smile still on your face. "I had a lot of fun today."

You chuckled, looking down at the hand that was intertwined with his. "Me too. I don't think I've ever had this much fun."

"Somehow, I still can't believe that you agreed to go out with me."

"Are you kidding me?" You chuckled, "Eddie, I still can't believe that you asked me out."

"Is it weird that I want to go on a hundred more?"

"You know, I think there's a word for that. Or, like a word for the person you keep doing that with."

"Oh, is there?" He said, furrowing his brows, "I have no idea what it could be."

You laughed, shaking your head before looking down at your watch. "I should go in. I have a lot of history homework to catch up on."

"Well, even great days have to come to an end." He chuckled, letting go of your hand. You felt a shiver go down your spine, already having forgotten how your hand felt without his. How empty it was. "I'll see you on Monday?"

"See you on Monday."

As you got out of his van, walking closer to your door as you felt the rain on your skin, you thought back to everything that happened that day. How every word he had said felt brand new when they left his lips, how comforting his hand felt in yours, how every smile he offered was the only thing you could see. How badly you had wanted to kissed him in the diner before the waitress brought your food.

You paused in front of your front door, digging through your bag for your keys with a wide smile on your face, even the thought of Eddie causing blood to rush to your cheeks.

As you were twisting the key in the lock, you heard something behind you.

"Wait!"

You let go of the key, turning to see Eddie rushing to you, a determined look on his face as he stopped in front of you.

"I'm gonna feel like the dumbest person ever if I don't do this."

And as soon as he got done saying it, you felt his ringed hands on your face as he turned your face up to look at his, your skin feeling like it was burning under his touch, the boy bowing his head slightly as he bent down.

When you felt his lips on yours, it felt like the opposite poles of a magnet finally connecting. The porch light above you flickered as he moved his lips in sync with yours. His curls felt damp against your fingers, and you leaned into his touch, feeling like you were going to drown if you ever let go of him.

You had no idea how long he had been kissing you, but once he pulled away, your lips felt like they were burning, and you were completely out of breath, Eddie looking down at you with a dazed look on his face.

"Will you go out on a hundred more dates with me?" He asked, in-between breaths.

"I'll go on a thousand more dates as long as they're with you."

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader

[ghostlychief]

Weighted Blanket

This is part 2 to Pockets of Peace

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Wc: 3.8k+ (First half is in Simon’s POV, second is reader’s POV)

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of children being victims on a mission (nothing graphic), brief, BRIEF mentions of self harm (this part is italicized if you want to skip OR can read it as wounds from fights or missions; emotionally vulnerable reader and Simon; some fluff; some cuddling

Summary: After your last mission, things changed between you and Ghost. Although feelings shifted and emerged, your quiet routine with the Lieutenant stayed the same. He never failed to provide you with little pockets of peace throughout your tumultuous life, and you treasure these moments, holding them close to your heart. Except this time, it’s you who returns the favor, and offers him a warm embrace to grieve quietly.

A/N: HELLO! Part two to Pockets of Peace is finally here. I really can’t express my gratitude for all the love that fic received. I really appreciate all your likes, comments, and reblogs. Comments are always so fun to read and same goes for the reblog tags <3 This is another purely indulgent fic lmao and I found this part harder to write than the first, so I hope you enjoy it just as much. As mentioned, the first half is written from Simon’s POV, so that was fun to explore and write. Sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes </3

ENJOY!

--

Simon didn’t have much to be grateful for in his life. Sure, he was thankful for the camaraderie he found within task 141, and his friendship with Soap (although he will never admit that they’re true friends). Outside of those two things, there wasn’t much, and he was okay with that. Comes with the line of work, he supposed.

It’s hard to trust people when majority end up pointing their gun at you, even after years of working together, training together, living together. Hell, it took him years to feel somewhat comfortable around the task 141 members. When he first joined, he barely talked to anyone except when necessary either when preparing for a mission, or during a mission. Afterwards he would float off to his room and be alone. He ate alone, trained alone (unless sparing was required by Price), he went out alone. Not that he went out a lot, but if he had to leave the base, it was alone. He was somewhat of a recluse, a phantom hiding in the shadows that the team rarely ever saw.

The team member he first grew closest to, not without them trying, was Soap. The outgoing sergeant was able to make a friend out of the standoffish lieutenant, and even got Ghost to crack jokes during missions, a big deal for task force 141. This happened a little over a year and a half after Ghost joined the team. And now fast forward almost seven years later, and here he was, still on task force 141, but with a friend of sorts. That was one thing he was grateful for.

About two years in, he started to eat breakfast when the other team members did. Did he sit with them? No, of course not, but he was eating at the same time, just a few tables away. He started training with the other members more regularly, and on occasion, would coach them and give them tips here and there. And after a mission, he would sometimes tag along with the other men when they went out to a bar to wind down.

--

One night, shortly after you joined task 141, Ghost begrudgingly accepted Soap’s invite to go to a bar with the other male team members. Once they got there and had a few drinks, they were poking fun at him for having a “soft spot” for the new recruit.

He just rolled his eyes at their comments, and muttered “Fuck off,” up until they started talking about your skillset. Specifically, your lack of skills in sparing.

“Well, she certainly could improve her technique. We were sparing the other day, and I almost squashed her like a bug.”

“Yeah, she’s fast, but sure doesn’t know what to do with her speed and size. I pinned her down almost every time.”

“Yeah, last week, I had her in a headlock and almost made her pass out.”

“Hey Ghost, haven’t you been training with her? I’m sure you crush her each time you spar; she doesn’t have a chance against you.”

“Doubt she’s improved at all, even with Ghost’s help.”

Ghost couldn’t help but notice the frequent use of the word ‘almost,’ and at this point, he had enough. The comments the 141 members made weren’t even accurate. Sure, you had some improving to do, but by no means were you bad. He felt like they just felt threatened by you, a young woman with much more potential than them. He also had a feeling that they were jealous of your mastery at sniping. To put it simply, Ghost knew they were full of shit.

“She’s actually improved quite a lot.” His rough voice pierces through the air, silencing the banter surrounding him.

Embers burned at the pit of his stomach at the thoughtless comments his teammates said so flippantly about you. Embers that soon caught fire, and burned bright crimson flames. He stayed composed, but his eyes flickered, darkened by the shadows of the black paint surrounding them, and the tarnished skull that covered his nose and mouth. All the more imposing to those who looked at him.

“Plus, someone had to give her pointers for fighting a highly skilled, large, and imposing person; something you short fucks couldn’t do.”

Ghost was met with silence once again, and he smirked under his balaclava. Since then, the other men of task 141 have not commented on your sparing abilities, not wanting to be cursed out by Ghost.

And hey, it was all worth it when the next day you defeated Soap, match after match.

--

New recruits of 141 typically come and go, retention isn’t all that great. So, when you joined the team, he wasn’t expecting you to persevere, and stay. He was impressed by your skillset; snipers are always impressive in his mind. But your agility and speed that allowed you to take down opponents twice your size, is what mainly caught his eye. Sure, you needed some improvement, but you were promising.

When you first joined the team, you were so nice to everyone, even him. That’s not something he’s privy to in his line of work. Yet, you didn’t seem intimidated by him at all, not in the slightest. He didn’t have the slightest clue as to why. You just kept being so warm to him and he didn’t know what to do with that.

Of course, he wasn’t nervous to be around you, no that certainty wasn’t it; but he couldn’t help the warm feeling that would spread through his chest whenever you would talk to him. At first you only conversed with one another in meetings, debriefs, missions, etc. All work related, with no cross over into ‘personal life territory’. Simon was content with this, he rarely ever crossed that boundary with the other 141 teammates, so why would he with you? Incidentally, you and him started to get paired together mission after mission, and he couldn’t help but want more.

Ghost was immediately impressed at your abilities to smoothly get in and get out during missions, especially with what little experience you had. Not that you were any less competent than any of the other 141 team members, you just hadn’t been in the field for as long as some of them. You were smart as a whip though, and you got the job done quickly and quietly, and never got in his way. That was something he deeply respected about you. You understood the task at hand, asked questions if needed, but otherwise were highly independent. An admirable trait that takes some weight off of his shoulders as a Lieutenant. Something that he quickly added to his list of things he was grateful for.

You also had the curiosity to learn more, and to learn from the more experienced team members. Always ready with a question, and never embarrassed to ask. Sure, you were quiet like him, but when it came to job stuff, you didn’t hesitate to make your presence known.

He still remembers, one night after completing a mission, you and him were sitting in the helicopter. You turned to him and asked, “How is it that you’re never scared?” Your sweet voice traveled over to him through the coms and he felt confounded by your question. He felt his stomach warm at your tone in which you asked him this. Did you somehow look up to him?

“Who said I was never scared?” He glanced over at you and saw your eyes sparkle at his response.

--

To say that Ghost was concerned after you got shot in the leg was an understatement. Although he tried his best to stay composed, he was having a full-blown crisis inside his mind while trying to get you to safety, which, was a safe house miles from your current location. He couldn’t properly examine your wound, so he had no idea how bad of a state you were in, and he hated blind spots.

That was the first mission he ever felt real fear for you; distressed with thoughts that said you wouldn’t make it back. Thoughts that kept bouncing around, tormenting him the whole journey to the safe house. Luckily when you guys arrived, he was able to fully assess your wound and it didn’t look life threatening. No, all he had to do was clean, stich, and bandage it.

Simple enough, right? Wrong.

Of course, of course the best way to get the wound clean and ready for stitching was for your fucking pants to come off.

Things were never easy for Ghost.

His nerves didn’t stop him though and he somehow managed to get through everything without making a complete fool out of himself. Though, if you could somehow hear his heartbeat, at all, it would have been a dead giveaway, as it thumped erratically in his chest. There were moments when he was afraid it would burst.

Then, only to make this mission even worse, was him waking up to your blood curdling screams in the middle of the night. His first thought was that the enemy found you guys, and they got to you first. He thought that he failed to protect you, which was a silent promise he made to himself after the first night you guys drank beer in his room.

However, when he entered the living room, he saw that no one was in the room, it was just you on the couch where he left you. Your screams turned into cries, then sobs, then screams again. It was deafening and he couldn’t stand to hear it any longer. It took a few good shakes to wake you and he felt his heartstrings pinch in his chest when you apologized to him for waking him up, completely disregarding the trauma you were currently experiencing.

He decided right then and there that what you needed right now was not a work colleague, but a friend. He carried you to bed that night, hoping to provide you with some consolation, wanting to provide you with anything that would make you feel safe again. And before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself closing the distance between your lips, and he felt you kissing back. He may have added that to the list of things he felt grateful for.

--

It’s been a few weeks since then. Your leg is pretty much all healed, and you have full mobility. All thanks to Ghost’s handy work. Although you felt fine and ready to get back out there, Simon insisted that you continue to rest. He even managed to convince Price not to assign you to any missions for the next month, which thoroughly pissed you off.

Who was he to boss you around and tell you when you were ready or not to start working again? He was technically your direct supervisor, so he did have the power to boss you around, but still!

Even though you were slightly peeved at him, you knew that it came from a good place. He was just worried about you, and this was his way of showing it, well, in front of the team at least.

In private, he had other ways to show you how much he cared for you. After he learned about your nightmares, he insisted that you come to him whenever they occur. You were hesitant at first to take him up on his offer. What if he just said that to be nice and he just feels bad for me? You didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Even though, you found yourself slowly start to cross more and more boundaries with him as the weeks went on.

So, the first night you experienced another nightmare, you found yourself in front of Simon’s door. You probably stood there for at least a minute, racking up the courage to knock. But before you could even do that, the door swung open to reveal a sleepy looking Simon decked out in black sweats and his signature balaclava.

Since he was so close to you, you had to crane your neck to look up at him and meet his eyes. Why he was still wearing his mask at this hour, you were unsure. He usually took it off to sleep, but you were too unmoored to ask.

“I heard your footsteps approach my door.” His gravelly voice fills the space in-between, and he casually leans on the door frame.

“Oh.” You looked down at your slippers and twiddle your thumbs.

“Why don’t you come in, yeah?” Simon’s voice lifts up a bit at the end of his question, and you look back up at him and offer him a small smile.

“I’d like that, thank you Simon.” It still felt weird on your tongue to call the Lieutenant by his first name, but your chest sparked each time you did so. He held out is hand and you fit your palm against his, and he leads you into his room, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

You and Simon talked for what felt like hours before you fell asleep, head on his shoulder and his hand rubbing your head.

It was a common occurrence after that, to visit Simon’s room at night whenever you woke up screaming in the dark of your own room. It felt like nothing could happen to you in your dreams, so as long as Simon’s arms were wrapped around you, almost like an anchor. Weighing you down, preventing you from drifting too far away.

But even with this new sense of security surrounding you, some nights when you fell asleep with Simon next to you, the nightmares would still creep into your mind. Though, Simon was right there to help bring you back.

If for some reason you both separated during the night and were sleeping apart, you’d reach out to him after waking, your hand patting the bed, searching for him.

“Simon?”

“I’m right here.” He’d then swiftly pull you back into him.

He’d rub your back. Up down, up down.

Wrap his arms around you. Squeeze.

Kiss your forehead. Smooth back your hair.

Whisper affirming words that reminded you that it’s all in your head, you’re safe in this reality, he’s here. No one is trying to harm you.

Other nights, you found yourselves simply enjoying each other’s company. You love to outline his forearm tattoos with your fingers and trace your hand up his arm to his broad shoulders, to his chest. You like to trail your hand across his abs and just love to explore his whole body with your hands.

He does the same, and his touch always feels so heavenly. Though his hands were calloused and rough, they were always extra gentle in handling you.

His hand brushes over the top of your thigh and his fingertips graze over the slightly raised bumps that span across your tender skin. Your once smooth legs, now marked permanently with light lines. You feel his hand pause after it initially goes over this area of your leg. And you know, that he knows.

Before you can say anything, and push him away, his warm hand comes back up to rest at the top of your thigh, and his thumb gently traces circles over the scarred area. He doesn’t say a word, but his touches mean everything to you, and it’s all you need.

You feel him squeeze his arms that are already wrapped around your form, and feel a slight pressure against the top of your head, like a kiss was laid upon your hair.

You feel your breathing start to slow, and before you know it, you’re drifting off to sleep, the steady rhythm of Simon’s heart calling out to you like a siren with a lullaby.

You started to feel a deep sense of familiarity within the four walls of Simon’s room, and you knew that it would always be a place of condolement for your aching self. Little did you know, that you provided just as much relief, if not more, to Simon as well. Although more rare than yours, Simon had bad days too.

--

Tonight was no different than any other; you and Simon are lying in bed together and you’re semi-on top of him, leg thrown over his waist, head on his shoulder, fingers mapping out his entire being.

“If you want to talk about it, you know that you can, right?” You absentmindedly trace your pointer finger across the span of his chest as you ask him this. Drawing small circles into the fabric of his black t-shirt.

To Simon, it felt like there were small sparks leaving your fingertips every time you touched him, causing his heart to ignite.

“I’m always here to listen.” You remind him one more time.

Simon just came back from a particularly brutal mission, one that he has told you very little about. They were gone for almost two weeks and all you were able to find out from Soap was that children were involved- a sensitive subject for Simon. You can only imagine what he went through during the mission, and now, what he’s dealing with in the aftermath. You’re trying not to push too much, but you want him to talk to you.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. But you shouldn’t have to.”

You pause your ministrations and crane your neck to look up at him with a slight pout on your lips. This was always a struggle with him, he didn’t like to talk to you, let alone anyone when he was going through something. He would just put up a wall and it broke your heart. Sometimes you would get bits and pieces, but never the whole picture; it was always fuzzy to you.

You wanted him to feel safe enough that he could confide in you, vent to you, about whatever was on his mind, but you knew it wasn’t that easy and that these things take time. You’re patient with him, as he is with you. It’s the least you can owe him for all he’s done for you. This is his time to lament, not yours to be nosey. So, you just let him be.

He lets out a sigh and then moves you so you’re laying completely on top of him. He tries not to be too rough as his hands grab onto your waist to situate you further, and he tucks your head under his chin.

One arm wraps around your middle and the other comes up to hold the back of your head.

“I just want you to be here with me right now, like this. That’s all I need.” His breath tickles your hair and you succumb to his wish, relaxing against him.

“Ok, I can do that.” Your hands come up to wrap around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer to you, no inch of yourself is left untouched by Simon.

He likes to put you in this position whenever he can’t find the right words to explain. He instead craves the comfort of physicality, liking the weight of you on top of him.

Your hand comes up to play with his hair at the nape of his neck. You found that his hair tends to curl a little at the end, initially not expecting his hair to be this long. Silly, you know, but you’re honored that you’re one of the few people that get to see him like this.

You don’t know how long you and Simon lay like this; time always seemed to bend and disappear when you were with him. Since you guys had been lying in silence for so long, his voice startles you when he speaks for the first time in what felt like hours.

His hand that was resting on your lower back is now softly stroking your spine in a steady up and down motion.

“I felt scared for the first time in a while, on the last mission.”

His admission surprises you, but you wait a beat to see if he’s going to say anything else before you respond.

You’re glad that you do, because he continues to speak in a hushed voice.

“I- I didn’t know how to help them and they were looking towards us to be saved. And yet, we couldn’t save all of them. Some were left behind.”

You feel your heart start to crack again, the beginnings of the break started forming the moment you saw Simon step out of the plane when he returned back to the base.

And now it feels as though a chisel is working its way through your chest, chipping off piece by piece as you listen to Simon morn the loss of little lives. Lives he couldn’t rescue. You know it’s eating him up on the inside, with no respite in sight.

You personally have never been on a mission where the victims were children, and you’re thankful for that, so you can only empathize as much as your experience allows you to. You just have to remind him that he does the best he can, and not everyone can be saved, no matter how much you want to help.

You shift a little so your head is no longer tucked under his chin, and instead rests more on his shoulder. Since you’re so close to him, your lips touch is jaw.

You sigh, “I’m really sorry you went through that, Simon. I know that nothing I can say will change the outcome of what happened, and it doesn’t really matter what I say, but I do want you to know that you and the team did all you could. You did your best with what circumstances you were given.”

You feel him stir under you, and his arms warp tighter around your frame.

“You’re wrong.”

You feel you the pieces of your heart break into smaller and smaller pieces, losing hope that they will ever fit back together.

“You’re wrong to think that your words don’t matter.” Oh. “They actually mean the most to me.” Your chest doesn’t feel like it’s going to concave anymore.

“I really appreciate you; you know that right, Little Swan?” You feel him kiss your forehead and your chest warms at his term of endearment.

“Of course I do, Simon.”

“Ok, good.”

You bring him in for a kiss.

--

Simon found that he didn’t have much in his life, let alone much to be grateful for. Yet over the years, he realized that he grew quite the list.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost mw2 x reader #ghost cod fanfic #ghost cod fic #ghost mw2 fanfic #ghost mw2 fic #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley hurt comfort #ghost hurt comfort #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #weighted blanket #simon ghost riley fanfic #simone ghost riley x you #ghost cod x you #simon ghost riley x you #hurt/comfort au #hurt comfort #fluff #fanfic

[banquetwriter]

Please do a part 2 to the Johnnie fix u just posted !

୨୧ Cinnamon pt:2 ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡

summary: ʚ A part two to cinnamon ɞ

Words: 1034

An: this was in reference to: cinnamon go check it out since this is part two! This turned out so bad I'm so sorry. I never wanted to make a part two to this so I'm a lil upset lol

It was the day after the party, you weren't too hungover by any means, just a little sick feeling in the morning but that had passed hours ago. You had also left the party early deciding it wasn't fair to torture yourself with Johnnie all night long.

You were taking a slow sip of your drink and scrolling around Pinterest when an Instagram DM from Johnnie popped up on your phone. Your eyebrow shot up tapping the notification.

J: ‘Hey, you left that party quickly last night. Sure you're doing ok?’

You smiled briefly at his message. You set your drink down while sitting up to reply.

‘Haha yeah I’m all good just got a little overwhelmed that's all :)’

You sent your message and decided to put your phone down. You didn't want to wait around for his reply, that was only going to cause you to get even more attached to someone who didn't like you. You turned the TV on and put on one of your favorite shows.

You say most of an episode is for caving and checking for a text back. Sure enough, that was a notification from the world's favorite emo boy. You tap on it unlocking your phone.

J: ‘oh ok. I'm always here if you need to talk or anything like that. Can I ask what made you so overwhelmed?’ he asked. You felt that familiar heartbeat increase as you re-read his message over and over again.

‘It was just someone I didn't wanna be around for that long. It wasn't in a bad way, I just needed a break from someone.’ you replied. You Weren't sure why you couldn't just lie to him but you couldn't.

You hoped he would take your words and leave you be, but as fate would have it… he doesn't. J: ‘Was it me?’ he asks. You're not sure how to respond, you suppose it would be time to talk this out as the opportunity presented itself.

‘We can talk sometime in person, ok? Are you free at all this week?’ you sent back, anxiety creeping its way through your whole body in waves. This wasn't right. We shouldn't meet.

Was there a possibility that Johnnie actually liked you? No. Right? You Weren't sure at this point. People who like someone check in on them. Maybe he DID like you just not how you want him to.

Your heart nearly exploded when you heard another text go through. J: ‘Im free today’ your heart was pounding so fast. Would you even have the courage to meet today in the first place.

It's better to get the bandage ripped off sooner than later. ‘Works for me lets get dinner?’ you sent the message feeling like you were going to vomit. You wanted to get all ready for him, look your best.

But you knew you shouldn't do that. He needed this from you at your most true self. Sweatpants and all. He agreed and you both arranged plans to meet in only four hours.

Four hours is a lot of time to wait for something but it felt even longer as you checked the clock every five minutes to see if it was time or not. But after all your waiting it was finally time to leave.

You pulled up to this place and Johnnie was already standing outside. You both shuffle around each other awkwardly for a moment before you tell him to sit down. You choose a spot outside and sit down.

The wind blows on both of you as it chills you to the bone. “So I did leave because of you but, that sounds so scary and mean.” you start. He just stared at you for a moment “ok.” was all he said, his voice wavering.

“It's because I really like you. And I know this sounds immature and silly but when you didn't talk to me at the party I felt so alone. I thought you might have liked me too and I don't know. I just needed to leave after you gave me water.” you confessed to him.

It all felt so silly now. Leaving a party because a boy didn't like you. He doesn't say anything and again your instinct is to just run, as fast and as far as you can. Johnnie doesn't let that happen this time.

As soon as you stand up his arm reaches out for you. You stop at his contact. “Y/n I definitely like you, don't worry,” he said as you slowly sat back down. You hold his eyes before eventually feeling the feeling of shame creep back in.

“Sorry,” you mumble slowly. “I thought you left because I made you uncomfortable or something,” he said, the wind blowing again. Your heart was soaring at his words. “No, I was just high and overwhelmed,” you said looking down at his hand that was still holding your arm.

“Oh right. Well, I definitely like you, I don't talk to people I don't like this much,” he said, causing both of you to giggle slightly. “I'm sorry for the way I reacted. I just got so scared,” you said through a pitiful laugh.

“It's ok we all get scared of something. I just can't ever imagine someone like you liking someone like me,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you mean? You're so fucking funny and nice Johnnie of course I like you,” you say with a smile.

“Thanks but I don't believe you. It's just that you're so funny, smart, and… pretty. I don't know how I can compare.” he said looking down. “Johnnie, that's how I feel about you,” you said leaning towards him.

“We should hang out sometime,” he said, unfortunately removing his hand from your arm to fix his hair. “We’re hanging out right now,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “No, I mean like on a date?” he says looking up at you through his hair. “You wanna take me on a date?” you whisper leaning further towards him.

“Y-yes we should go on a date,” he said again, adjusting his hair. “Ok let's go on a date then.”

“OK?”

“Ok.”

#johnnie x you #johnnie #johnnie guilbert angst #jake and johnnie #johnnie x reader #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert

[jaymari-lyn]

Okay, so since nobody is talking about it, I will

This apparently is supposed do be the opening of the first scene in season 5 and it brings up a lot of questions.

The first one being, who is the child? Cold wind and groaning trees makes sense since Hawkins is now sort of combined with the Upside-Down, but some child singing is a little odd.

By now, all the 'kids' in the show are well in their teens, so considering them 'children' wouldn't make a lot of sense. So, first my head goes to a flashback sequence.

It could possibly be a flashback of Eleven and the other kids from the rainbow room, but since last season was really focused on it, I don't it's going to be as central this season.

What I think it could be is a flashback to either Will in the Upside-Down back in season 1, OR a flashback with him and Mike as little kids.

If it's Will in the Upside-Down, it would make a lot of sense since we know Will used to sing when he was down there. So we could possibly be getting a flashback to Wills week in the Upside-Down, because this whole season is supposed to be about him, as well as a full circle moment back to season 1 for a lot of characters.

But another theory I like is that it's a flashback to Mike and Will when they first met. The cold wind and groaning trees could just interpreted as less creepy, and just more like fall Indiana weather, and the child's voice could be Will singing to himself on the swingset. I could be wrong, but it seems like Will used to use music as a way to cope or keep himself busy as a kid (with Jonathan while Joyce and Lonnie would fight, plus the Upside-Down, like I said earlier). If Will was all alone on the swingset with no friends as a kindergartener who probably missed his mom and brother, he might sing as a way to make himself feel better. We've seen bts photos of a playground with a swingset, so it is plausible. Another thing is maybe Will singing is what originally got Mike's attention, because let's be honest, he is super oblivious, and this is even before he gained his Will-is-upset instinct, so he most likely wouldn't notice Will unless he was doing something that would make him stand out. One more thing that I want to add is that Wills singing as a kid might have been what made him start getting bullied. Besides his appearance, what other things would have made the bullies or even Lonnie, for that matter, think he's gay? He may be on the smaller side, but lots of boys are, so why Will specifically. Back in the 80s singing (and take this with a grain of salt because I wasn't alive back then) probably would have been considered "girly", so that could have been one of the factors that got these assholes to start bullying him. And, you can notice that after season 2, Wills connections to music sort of dissappears. His love for it isn't really brought up that much, and we never see or hear about him singing in season 3 or 4, so it could have been him getting sick of bullying and trying to change himself to appear 'normal' to a heteronomative society that doesn't accept gay people. This flashback would also be, in turn, a great way to start introducing back Mike and Wills friendship, as well as their obvious live for one another.

Another thing , though, that can debunk that theory, is that it has to be a familiar song. The only one that really comes to mind for me is "Should I Stay Or Should I Go?", which didn't come out until '82, so it wouldn't line up time-wise for Will to be singing that when him and Mike were todlers in the 70s. If that's the case, I don't know what familiar song he could be singing.

If you guys can think of any other songs that would work time-wise, please let me know.

Personally, I think music is going to play a huge part in this final season, between Will's connection to it, and the fact that it's the only way to get away from Vecna once he is in your head (since music can reach aprts of the brain words can't)

But let me know your thoughts! I'd love to hear them!

#stranger things #stranger things 5 #st5 predictions #st5 #byler #byler endgame #stranger things theory #theory

[katsheadinclouds]

chapter 5

Joel Miller x gn!/f!reader

series masterlist - chapter 4

summary: After a few weeks since you last saw Joel, you end up bumping into Ellie. What you don’t expect is to finally reach your breaking point.

rating: mature

chapter warnings: angst, hurt and comfort, anxiety, panic attack, grief, descriptions of violence typical for the TLOU world, no use of y/n, Ellie and Joel are the kindest and caring, everyone needs therapy.

word count: 7.6k

notes: Here we are, at the end of part 1. Thank you everyone who has read so far <3 Like with the last chapter, this is heavily angsty but I promise, it’s only uphill from here! The next chapter will be out in two weeks, as I’m taking a writing break to finish part 2.

divider by cafekitsune

It has been raining for a couple of days. You’re holed up in your house and the walls feel like they’re starting to fall on you. You haven’t seen anyone or heard from anyone and the longer you’re alone, the more you want to just disappear.

Dan released you from stable duty because some teenagers wanted to come take care of the horses for a while and your rotation says that you’re supposed to be working at the community garden next anyway. But that was two weeks ago. And you haven’t been able to leave your home.

You’re not sure how long it has been since you were at the cliffs. You just know that since then you haven’t been able to sleep, being afraid of the nightmares and new panic attacks. You’re afraid of them all the time, bracing yourself for the fall and loss of control. You can feel it simmering somewhere inside, ready to slap you across the face and make you lose yourself. You relive the moment at the cliffs every day and just the thought of the panic you felt is enough to make you hide in your house, behind closed curtains and darkness.

And if communication wasn’t hard enough already, it has now become almost impossible. You don’t like to look people in the eyes and being in crowded places makes your skin crawl. You can’t even imagine opening your mouth and hearing your own voice. The more afraid of your own reactions you’ve become, the easier it has been to just stay at home and not keep in touch with anyone.

You’ve had panic attacks for a long time and you’ve always been able to somehow make sense of them. You’re almost used to the intense fear by now even though it’s not pleasant. The trick was to always reason with the irrational side of your brain.

After being holed up in your house alone, they’ve gotten so much worse. And it’s not even the attack itself, it’s the shame surrounding it. It gnaws in your head, making you think things that you’ve thought to be untrue. Or at least you hope to not be true. And when you’ve tried to calm yourself down, your head has just filled with more chaos, drowning all of your attempts at finding quietness.

This panic attack at the cliffs managed to surprise you, and how different it was from the ones you’re used to. For a long time you just felt your body tensing up, your breathing getting harder that made you light headed and your head spewing fear into your whole body, making it shake.

This new episode wasn’t like the ones when you weren’t able to move and you’re glad that you haven’t had those after getting to Jackson.

But this one panic attack was like going through a night terror and realising that it’s not ending. It just kept on going, it keeps on resurfacing and you can’t let go of it. You’re dreading to experience it again.

The scariest part?

You can’t feel a thing.

It’s like you don’t have a body anymore, just a shell that somehow keeps you alive.

You don’t feel the wind whipping in from the open window. You don’t feel the heat when you keep your hand too close to the stove. You don’t feel water on your skin or if it’s cold or warm when you take a shower.

You don’t feel your feelings like you used to either.

They seem distant and strange because you know how you should be feeling, but those emotions just don’t become reality. You just are, floating through days without really existing in your life right now.

Your thoughts are spiralling once again. You’re certain that you’re not a good member of the community. People must hate you. No one is going to want to share a house with you, no one knows you and even if they did, they’re not going to like living with you and your… problems.

And Joel? He must loathe you. The way you poured your panic attack on him was unacceptable. How could you let him see it, how could you let yourself be so weak?

The town doctor hasn’t been able to help you, how could anything or anyone else help you either? You’re so sure that you’re broken that nothing can change your mind. Maybe they’ll just kick you out and your head will shut up.

Maybe you should just be out of this town so no one has to wonder what is really going on with you.

At least you haven’t been spending their food or supplies since you’ve just been living on water and porridge. Your cupboards and fridge emptied of everything else almost a few days ago.

You’re not sure how long you stare out the window but the night turns into a dull, grey morning. And then even greyer day.

You listen to the drumming of the rain against the roof and it’s almost hypnotising. Something in you makes you want to go out and get your clothes wet. At least you’d do something else than just listen to the incessant sound of your brain beating you up.

You wrap a flannel jacket over the t-shirt that you’ve worn for the past four days and don’t bother changing out of your sweatpants that you’ve had on night and day since you realised all your other pants had to be washed.

It’s almost funny that no one has checked up on you and when you think about it, your brain almost short circuits from the possibilities your negative thoughts throw your way.

You wrote to your doctor that you’re better, that you’ve gotten friends like he wanted you to and that all meetings with him would be unnecessary. You left the note into his post box and since he hasn’t contacted you, it probably worked.

At the same time you left a note to a worker from the community garden. You told her you’re not feeling well and need to take a little time off. Back then you thought it’d be just a couple of days and then you’d show up. But the more time has passed, the harder it is to let them know that you still need time to recover.

Maybe they don’t care about you and your help, maybe that’s why no one has checked up on you.

You press your hands into tight fists until your nails make half-moon shapes against your palms. Once outside you’re met with the freshness of the mountain air. It fills your chest and you cough as your lungs get  used to the cold.

You see no one which comforts you to start walking. You’re going to avoid the town centre just in case, but it seems like you’ll be left alone.

You don’t mean to walk for more than a few minutes, but you end up walking to the other side of the town. Your head has been light and dizzy and you don’t know if you can trust your unsteady legs but here you still are, further than you had imagined going.

Your clothes are completely soaked through but you don’t really mind. You can’t feel it anyway, not the cold or the wetness clinging to your skin. And at least now your brain is thinking why the hell you can’t feel a thing anymore instead of all the negative, fictional scenarios it so enjoys creating.

You’re already on your way back home when you hear a grunt and someone cursing under their breath. Your first instinct is to run away, hide, not make any contact. But when you see a girl wet from the rain, pulling on a small wagon filled paint canisters, that’s gotten stuck in the mud, you decide against it.

Ellie.

You approach her slowly, not really knowing what to expect. What’s she doing with all the paint? When she hears your wet footsteps, she looks up and her face lights up.

“Hey!” She looks genuinely happy to see you standing right in front of her. “Can you help me with this? The wheels are shit and I can’t get this fucking thing to move.” Her cursing takes you aback even though it shouldn’t surprise you.

It just seems like other people in town don’t use as much curse words and she is making sure to use all of them to fill that void. You move to push the wagon while she pulls and together you manage to free it from the mud. Ellie wipes some lose, wet strands of her hair from her forehead and she beams at you.

“Thanks! Will you help me take these home as well? I know there are some puddles that I’m not really looking forward to pass,” she waves her hand towards the street and pulls the wagon with her, making you follow her.

She just smiles at you and almost on instinct you walk next to her. You get winded from the faster pace but try to hide it from her. You look at the paint canisters and then at her, who is eyeing you with curiosity.

You hope you lift your brows at her in question but you’re not sure if that actually happens. She seems to understand your question through your expression though. 

“I’m renovating a garage for myself,” she tells you and you can hear the hints of pride in her voice. “Yeah, Joel and Tommy have been doing the building, but they’re both out on patrol and I got bored at home. Maria has been around as well, but she wants to be careful with the baby and all, so it’s just me today.” She explains it all slowly, like she’s trying to fill a quiet space between the two of you.

You’re kind of grateful she’s doing all the talking and isn’t pressuring you to speak. You do catch her watching you a few times though when the silence falls on you both and your panting comes through the sound of the rain.

She doesn’t say anything about it, or anything else for that matter, and you keep on going in the heavy rain towards her house. Maybe Joel hasn’t told her about your weak moment at the cliff which you’d be grateful for. That way there’d really only be one person who knows what a mess you are and others wouldn’t know about any of it.

You could just quietly slip away from this place and no one would miss you.

It's weird to notice that you’d like to talk with her, ask her things and hear how she’s been settling into Jackson, but you can’t make yourself talk. Your throat feels tight and your mood isn’t helping. Ellie leads you through a side gate into a garden and you help her pull the wagon to a run-down looking garage.

“Come inside, you can warm up there,” she offers when you look around and take in the backyard of a two-storey house.

It has seen better days, but it also looks inviting, like someone’s making a home of it. There’s a single light in one of the windows, beaming out warmly like a light from a lighthouse. Ellie leads you to a back porch and inside through a mudroom that now works as a laundry room as well. Ellie pulls her shoes off and you follow her example. Your wet socks squelch against the floor.

“I’ll get you something to change into.” You try to huff a no in response but she’s already on her way through the house and you’re left alone to catch your breath.

With your wet feet you make your way into the kitchen. It’s clean except for the few items on counters. There’s a mug and a plate next to the sink and a bowl turned upside down on a towel next to them. A basket full of fresh carrots wait next to the stove. And a pile of clean towels are sitting closest to the door, probably waiting to be put away.

You run your numb hand against the island counter and walk slowly further into the house. The wood floors creak softly and you hear Ellie rummaging somewhere upstairs, her footsteps thudding against the floor. The house looks comfortable and warm, even in this gray and cold lighting.

You look into the living room and see a soft, worn couch, an armchair and a bookshelf. Even your house doesn’t have a bookshelf but this house does and it’s full of books.

You get closer to the titles and recognise a few. You’ve never been much of a reader, but your bro—

Your breathing catches in your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut when your head starts swimming. You grab the shelf with your hands and try to stay up, but your legs seem to buckle at their own accord.

“Hey,” you hear Ellie’s soft voice call you and you whip around, tears making everything around you blurry.

She looks at you with wide eyes, her hands full of clothes. She has already changed out her own wet outfit into a more comfortable one, a hoodie and a new pair of jeans. She comes closer and you clutch your chest, catching your breath.

You try to make yourself calm down but it’s even harder now that your head is laughing at your and you don’t feel any physical feelings happening in your body. She stops and leaves space between the two of you, her face softening even more until a small smile crinkles her eyes.

“I had to raid Joel’s dresser, I hope these are at least a bit more comfortable than those,” she nods at you and you follow her gaze to look at the drenched clothes on you. She’s clearly trying to distract you from your uneasy thoughts.

“You can change in the bathroom over there,” she gives you the clothes before she swings her arm towards a closed door. You walk past her with wobbly legs and make your way to the downstairs toilet.

You wipe at your face furiously once the door closes behind you and you force yourself to think of other things. How the mirror is stained but clearly kept clean. The stacked toilet paper rolls in the corner. Next to the sink there’s a small plant in a clay pot that is cracked and barely holding the soil in. But the plant looks like it’s thriving.

You eye at the dark blue t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants she had given you and start to peel your clothes from your body. They stick to your skin and there’s actual water dripping to the floor when you pull everything off.

You intentionally breathe very slowly, in through your nose, holding it for a few seconds before pushing all air from your lungs through your mouth. Your heart seems to calm down until there’s only that dull, numb nothingness left.

The shirt seems to swallow you and the pants hang loosely on you, but they’re not wet and that’s everything that matters.

Even though you can’t feel the cold, you can still get ill. And that’s the last thing you want at this point. There are a pair of socks as well and you put them on, even though they’re definitely too big on your feet.

This doesn’t seem right, wearing Joel’s clothes when he’s not even here telling you that you can. You don’t know where you stand with him, but he probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.

He hasn’t checked up on you either.

In a way it hurts, but you don’t even know the man. It would be best to just forget about him, if it wasn’t for the embarrassment that prickles your skin. You look at yourself in the mirror and don’t recognise the person looking at you through the reflection. Your eyes, your skin, your face, they all belong to someone you don’t know. The clothes definitely hang on your frame loosely and it only adds to your discomfort.

“Well don’t you look pretty!” Ellie smiles when you open the door and carry your wet clothes in your arms. You don’t know what to do with her words, stopping right in your tracks while her smile only grows.

“Let’s hang them up to dry,” she points at the bundle against your chest and leads you to the mudroom where she takes your clothes one piece at a time to hang them on hangers.

“You hungry? Thirsty?” She asks when she’s done and you shake your head lightly.

“Okay, are you ready to paint then?” Her face lights up and you can’t say no to her even though you’d like to.

You should’ve just turned around when Ellie got home and you definitely should’ve been somehow more insistent on not letting her give you dry clothes. You should’ve just left and gone back home. Now it looks like you’re stuck here with Ellie, who wants your help.

She must see the inner battle going on in your head from your face because her smile drops just the slightest.

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, just keep me company,” she tells you. She bends to put on her wellies and you move to put on your wet shoes when she throws you another pair of boots. They’re way too big for you, must be Joel’s, but you don’t seem to find any other option either.

When you get into the garage, you’re met with a worksite.

Ellie walks you through it all, introducing you to the unfinished kitchenette, with uninstalled cabinets and sink. She opens the minifridge door and you both look inside like there’s something to see, even though it’s just a couple of empty shelves and an old, yellowed stain at the bottom. She insists she has washed the fridge already. She just needs to figure out how to get the stain out.

She leads you to the bathroom, that now has walls at least. Apparently Tommy and Joel got them up last weekend, even though there’s still work to be done with the plumbing and they also need to find a door and finish the floor.

She walks you to the middle of the room and points where a couch and her desk for drawing and little tinkering are going to go. “I also want a bed in here, if some day I’d actually live here, on my own.”

She paints such a picture with her words, how there’s going to be hanging lights, a few bookshelves, bedside tables, posters, her art stuff. She wants to make this her own space and she’s clearly excited.

You stand still and imagine it all around you, even though now the space seems incomplete and kind of cold. Ellie moves around and pulls the wagon inside, bringing in mud at the same time.

“Maria showed me what to do with the paint when we finished the back wall of the kitchenette.” She points at the fresh white wall behind the waiting cabinets.

“My plan is to paint that wall, where my bed is eventually gonna go. The grey drywall is damn boring.” You look at her unloading the four paint canisters from the wagon to the floor, grunting at the heavy weight.

“Dark green,” she says proudly and takes out her painting equipment. You follow her movements as she opens the canister like she has done it hundreds of times. She pours a small amount into a bowl and takes out a wide brush. When she stands up, she faces you and you see the question on her face immediately.

“It doesn’t have to look perfect, we’re gonna paint it a couple of times. The paint is fucking old anyway, who knows what it’s gonna look like.” Her hands reach out to you with the paint and brush. You hesitate, but when she nudges them towards you, you take them into your weak hands.

“Just start from the corner, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to continue,” she tells you and you look at the darkest corner in the whole room.

You drag your feet against the cement floor to the wall and toe the boots off your feet before you sit down and face the corner. With delicate hands you dip the brush into the rich, deep paint and do a stroke against the drywall.

You spread the colour with a slow drag, carefully painting the wall right above the floor. You lose yourself in the process, watching the wall in front of you turn dark green.

Ellie takes her own brush and bowl and moves to the other end of the wall. She watches you sitting cross legged on the carboard that’s been set on the floor and paint in slow motion.

It’s quiet in the garage except for the rain hitting the roof and her own brushstrokes. Ellie is definitely faster at painting, but it doesn’t surprise her.

Something has happened to you and she can see it a mile away. There’s a dullness in your eyes, dark shadows on your face, you try to avoid looking at her and your trembling body all tell her that you’re not okay.

The fact that she hasn’t seen you since you first got into Jackson and now you look even worse than then makes her worry, but she doesn’t know how to approach that with you. She doesn’t know you and she’s not sure if you even want to talk with her about whatever’s on your mind. You don’t seem to want to talk at all, like back all those months ago.

It's like a puzzle she starts to piece in her brain. Last week she heard Joel talking with Dan from the stables when they went to see Shimmer. He had asked if Dan had heard from you, but he hadn’t. Apparently you’re doing a rotation at the garden but he hadn’t seen you there either when he had gone there to pick up vegetables.

Joel had only nodded at that but Ellie recognised the deep crease between his brows and the way his lips pursed together to be telltale signs of him being worried.

Then there was the time they were here in the garage and Joel had asked how people are housed here, if they have a say in who moves in with whom. Maria had been confused about the question, until Joel mentioned a friend who is going to be moving in with strangers at some point.

Ellie knows Joel doesn’t have close friends here, so him mentioning someone made her look at him in question. He only shook his head to make her not say a word.

Maria eyed him for a long while before she told him that people who come here alone have a say in who they’re going to be living with. Sometimes you got to move in with strangers because living on your own in a big house doesn’t make sense in this community, especially when the housing is limited. So, you have to make friends with people, or at least get to know some of the people in town so it’s easier to integrate into your new life.

And then there was the time when he got home that one evening a few weeks ago, didn’t say a word and  went straight to his bedroom. She knocked on his door to offer him some of the leftovers she had gotten from Maria earlier that day.

Ellie remembers that day specifically because Maria had visited Joel that day and asked him to go help at the stables. It felt like there was some hope between Maria and Joel to have a friendly relationship, based at least on the way Maria kind of thought he was coming over for dinner. When he didn’t arrive, she offered Ellie to take dinner home.

Ellie had opened the door of Joel’s bedroom that evening to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, wringing his hands together with a pained look in his eyes. She had never seen him like that. She sat next to him and listened to his laboured breathing, while he tried to calm himself down.

They had stayed like that for a long while until Joel just closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and rubbed his palm over his face. Finally his hand came to rest over his chest, like he was making sure his feelings were staying inside. To make sure his heart was beating normally again. He didn’t mention it and she didn’t dare bring it up. But she did hear him staying up that night, the whole night, walking first around his bedroom and then downstairs.

He clearly couldn’t sleep and she wasn’t able to chase her sleep either when she knew he was in distress. He didn’t say that he had seen you or been in contact with you, but somehow seeing you like this now makes it seem like maybe something had happened to you and Joel knows about it.

Ellie knows she’s staring at you while you work slowly, lost in your own head. You don’t even notice that Ellie isn’t doing anything, just keeping an eye on you.

When your bowl of paint starts to run out, Ellie hands you her own paint bowl and takes your empty one before filling it. She doesn’t use it though. She just waits for you to finish the paint so she can hand you more. You work meticulously, not missing a spot and being careful not to drop any paint on the floor.

“I first said I wanted to paint the wall to look like space, but Maria wasn’t so sure about it,” Ellie tells you, waiting for you to react. But you don’t.

“Maybe someone else is going to move in here at some point…” Ellie copies Maria’s voice and way of speaking. “Who would move here, we live here,” Ellie rolls her eyes.

“I know Joel wouldn’t have said no to anything, he would’ve given me the paint and the brush and watched happily,” Ellie smiles and sadness tugs at her chest. Of course, Joel would let her paint the wall, he would let her do almost anything. The implication is there, but she doesn’t want to admit it to herself.

I swear.

“Except there was this magazine that I found in Bill’s car. Joel knew Bill, he’s dead now though, so is Frank. Anyway, the magazine, it was a dirty one, with pictures of naked men in there… I bet Joel wouldn’t let me paint something like that on my walls,” Ellie chuckles at even the thought of that.

She still remembers the face he made when he realised what she was reading. He was clearly out of his element and the vein in his forehead looked like it was going to pop when she asked why the pages were stuck together. It was such a long time ago. Back then things were so simple.

“I wouldn’t want to either…” Ellie almost whispers to herself before she looks at you and sees that you might’ve not even heard her talking. Your brushstrokes haven’t paused and your face doesn’t look like you’ve registered any of Ellie’s words.

She sighs and stands up, stretching her arms behind her back before setting the full bowl of paint right next to the old one. You don’t notice her or when she leaves to go back into the house.

The clock on the kitchen wall tells Ellie that Joel should be coming home soon. It feels even darker now that it’s raining and Ellie knows Joel went to a longer trail today with someone he hasn’t gone on patrol with before.

Before she can start wondering if the other person is good at killing infected, she hears heavy footsteps on the front porch.

Joel sighs long and deep when he closes the front door after him, taking his coat off and pulling his boots off his feet. She waits for him in the kitchen, sitting on the counter behind the corner. He doesn’t see her at first.

He combs his fingers through his wet hair before he blinks under the warm kitchen light.

“How was it?” Her voice makes him jump. Maybe she should’ve let him know she was there, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity.

“Did I scare you?” She raises her brows and lets out a short laugh.

“No, of course not,” Joel huffs. He washes his hands in the sink and sees the dishes he left next to it.

“Have you had dinner yet?” He asks while he slowly washes the dishes clean and sets them on the towel where Ellie’s now dry breakfast bowl is.

“No, I was kinda waiting for you.” Her voice makes him look over his shoulder. Somehow he has learnt to understand her like he would’ve known her her whole life and instantly he knows that something’s up. It’s also past their usual dinner time, she would’ve taken the leftovers from yesterday if there wasn’t anything on her mind.

“What’s happened?” He leans against the sink, but he doesn’t have time to question her more when she already jumps down from the counter and moves to put on her shoes and go out back into the garage.

Joel follows her but stops when his older boots aren’t there. Instead there is a pair of other, unfamiliar shoes on the floor and when he looks up, he sees a flannel, a t-shirt, pair of socks and sweatpants drying on hangers.

“Who’s here?” His face hardens but Ellie looks so unsure that it only makes him confused. Clearly there’s no danger, otherwise Ellie wouldn’t be this calm either.

“I saw them when I was getting the paint from Tommy and Maria’s house and they helped me get the fucking busted wagon back home. But Joel, something’s not right with them.” Ellie’s voice turns into a whisper like someone else could hear her.

He leans forward and fear creeps into his body. He can feel his skin prickling, cold sweat pushing out on his back, his heart stammering to beat a little faster and his hands clench before he wiggles his fingers in anticipation.

He goes to get his muddy boots from the front door while Ellie waits for him. Her uncertainty is something that he hasn’t seen in a while. It sometimes peeks through, but while they’ve been in Jackson it has only become rarer. She’s finding her footing here, becoming more confident every day.

She leads him into the garage and the rain is finally starting to ease up. Joel was looking forward to taking a shower, having dinner, and sitting on the couch, maybe watch a movie from the DVD stack he borrowed from Tommy last week, finally winding down from the day.

The rain and the cold were one thing but coming across a group of infected at an old suburb that no one had checked in a while was another. Him and Jade had cleared them out, but the few clickers in the mix did make the task harder.

Jade had gone to make an official report about the incident and how the area should be checked over more regularly even though it’s not on any official routes. Still, it was too close to the town and it would be better if areas like that stayed clear rather than someone stumbling across a pack like that by accident.

The last thing they’d want is the group of infected getting bigger until they’re too hard to handle.

He was so ready to relax. He has started having a routine to get himself calm in the evenings, but whatever is in the garage is not helping him. The back of his neck is tight as he expects to see something disturbing.

The funny thing is that he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to expect. A friend of Ellie’s, maybe drunk? Someone from town who wants to snoop around his house? An infected? That wouldn’t surprise him.

Ellie opens the door to the garage and it’s extremely quiet in there. She steps in and lets Joel follow her and right away he sees you. He stops dead in his tracks and even though the door isn’t the quietest (he makes a mental note to check the hinges and oil them) when it shuts, you’re not moving. You’re deeply hunched, painting the wall deep green, like Ellie wanted, and your head is almost leaning against it.

“Should I – “ Ellie starts, but Joel cuts her off by lifting his hand.

“Stay here,” he tells her quietly as he starts to approach you slowly. He says your name quietly but doesn’t get a reaction. It’s like you can’t even hear anything that’s happening around you.

“Hey,” Joel speaks gently and crouches next to you, touching your shoulder with the lightest of fingers. You flinch and draw in a deep breath, the paint brush clattering on the floor.

It’s completely dry and the two bowls in front of you look like they haven’t been touched in a while. There’s no fresh paint dripping from the side back into the bowls and the paint on the wall has already started to dry up.

Joel looks back at Ellie who sways on her tiptoes, waiting to spring into action. Joel takes the bowls and hands them to Ellie, who scoops the unused paint back into the canister.

Joel directs his attention back to you.

“Painting, huh?” He keeps his voice low when he moves the paint brush from the floor and hands that to Ellie as well so she can clean it.

“These look familiar,” he chuckles lowly, recognising his t-shirt and sweatpants on you. The t-shirt hangs from your shoulders and the pants are way too long for you.

“It’s getting late, we should go inside,” Joel tries to direct you, but you don’t look at him. You barely register he’s right next to you.

When he first touched your shoulder, it was like an electric shock. Now you don’t feel it anymore. But he is touching you, gently adding more pressure. You breathe through the numbness, afraid to look up and face him. You’ve been afraid of seeing him because you thought he’d only bring up that shame you’ve felt. The same fear that you felt at the cliffs is squeezing your lungs, your head swimming in memories you don’t want to remember. There’s something else as well, something surprising. You don’t feel shame around him, you feel calmer than you’ve felt in weeks.

He only reminds you of breaking apart.

And here he is now, trying to coax you into action. You can’t, it’s so much worse now than it has ever been. The feeling inside you. Your eyes sting and your head feels heavy, your lungs trying to gasp for air, but it seems impossible. You feel like you’re coming back alive, wires connecting and your own being washing through you in overwhelming waves.

“Ellie,” Joel lets go of your arm and stands up. This is something he doesn’t know how to handle. Ellie is on his side and the look on her face turns more grievous the harder you’re breathing.

“Go talk with Maria, she said there was someone new here, a doctor, who might be able to help. This is too much for us.” Ellie nods and takes off without a second look.

Joel stays with you and feels at a loss. He knows people get broken in this world, he has seen it time and time again. Hell, even he was that person at some point. Maybe he still is.

But he didn’t see himself from the outside. And he directed that pain into voluntary violence, not knowing how to deal with his wounds inside.

He has been the one to turn his back when someone was on their breaking point for so long because there was no way to survive if you lost your control. But then came along Ellie who is one of the strongest people he knows, even at such a young age. She opened something in him, and he doesn’t want to turn his back anymore.

He looks around and tries to find something that could possibly soothe you. There are a couple of boxes that Tommy and Maria brought in and he opens them, finding sheets and towels. They have to do.

He picks up a towel that is soft and worn, but when he holds it in his hands, it feels thick and warm. He approaches you calmly and squats next to you. He wraps the towel around your shoulders and you bend forward with a flinch, your breathing coming out in ragged, painful gasps.

He keeps his large hands on your shoulders and moves them slowly up and down to warm you up but also to let you know you’re not alone. After a while you do calm down, but you’re shaking and he recognises the way your shoulders shudder.

You’re crying, hard.

His knees start to ache and he sits down while he tries not to jostle you. He stays next to you, his other leg bent behind you while the other is crossed in front of him. He keeps on gently rubbing your back while listening you take wet breaths between your tears.

There’s an air of sadness around you. It’s so thick that he feels like it’s being forced down his throat with every sob you let out.

He sees tears dropping in heavy beads onto your lap. He feels like he’s physically trying to keep you here and he tries so hard, but he also feels at a loss. The last time he saw you he was thoroughly broken.

The panic attack only tore open his own wounds. The face that you made when you looked at him afterwards was something he knew he couldn’t wipe away. Like you were embarrassed to show that part of yourself.

He knew he had to get away from there. From you. He knew he wasn’t able to deal with his own emotions after seeing you in such distress. The screams you had let out reminded him of the night when the outbreak happened. What his own daughter sounded like when she took her last gasping breaths.

Why you were hiding your panic attack confused him though. He had already seen you at your lowest, behind the rock and by the campfire. That time at the cliff was somehow different though.

Your breathing suddenly becomes faster. There’s a fear in him that something’s happening to you, that you’re going to pass out or that you’re having some sort of a medical emergency.

He’s ready to pull away and he’s already moving his hand from your back and arm, but you suddenly grasp onto his wrist. Your hands are cold and clammy and your nails dig into his skin. You look up and he sees the terror on your face. The dark circles under your eyes and the hollows of your cheeks trouble him.

“I- I saw h-him,” you gasp out and a fresh wave of tears fall onto your cheeks. Deep creases form between his brows.

“You saw who?” He whispers back, afraid he’s going to provoke your panic even more.

“Him, my b-brother,” you say and your voice breaks.

“Where did you see him?” He tries to stay as calm as he can but his heart hammers in his chest. Where did you see your brother, here? Why hasn’t your brother been with you if he’s here?

“When his head had been cut off,” your voice is shrill through your pained cries. The confession makes him recoil back and he’s staring at your face, unable to form words.

“A-and my sis-sister, I remember. Sh-she got s-shot in the h-head right i-in front of m-me,” you gasp out between your sobs. His throat tightens at your words and he tries to swallow his own panic down.

You keep whispering something under your breath over and over, and he leans forward, holding his hand against your back just a little firmer while you squeeze his wrist in your own.

Not long after the garage door opens and when he turns around, the first one through the door is Ellie. Her cheeks are red and her hair and clothes are damp from the drizzling rain. Tommy follows her and then there’s an older black woman he hasn’t seen before. She looks at the scene in front of her while she’s catching her breath. They all are, clearly after running here.

“She can help them. Diana, she can help,” Tommy speaks with a low voice, but frantically, nodding his head towards the unknown woman. Joel looks at her when she nods her head in agreement and fixes her eyes on you.

“I can carry them,” Tommy tells Joel and he gets closer. Joel feels his skin crawling, like he’s supposed to protect you.

He looks at Tommy with wide eyes and he’s afraid what’s going to happen when Tommy approaches you. He’s afraid you’re going to start screaming, that you’re going to go into shock if he lets go of you.

“It’s okay, we can take it from here,” Diana says from the door and her soothing voice is like honey to the soul.

Suddenly Ellie is on Joel’s side, helping him up from the floor. She keeps holding his hand and he’s not sure why. He’d like to help Tommy or at least stay with you. You need someone you’re familiar with.

But it looks like you don’t even notice who is holding you. You don’t start thrashing and kicking when Tommy picks you up from the floor, still wrapped in the towel. You have your eyes closed; your lashes are wet from your tears. You hold onto the corner of the thick terry cloth and cry with no end in sight.

“I will need to talk with you at some point as well,” Diana points her words at Joel and he’s confused why she’d say that. He’s not the one who needs help, it’s you, you’re in distress.

Tommy is already at the door, ready to carry you out when Joel sees your socks, his socks, on your feet. They look like they’re about to fall off and he takes a step forward, ready to fix them. But Diana notices it as well and pulls them up over the legs of the sweatpants. Joel’s pants. They leave fast and when the door closes with a loud groan, silence envelopes Joel and Ellie.

“Are you okay?” Ellie sounds concerned and he looks at her in the eyes. He has never seen such deep sadness in her gaze before. Just pure grief that radiates in waves.

He must look confused because Ellie reaches up and touches something on his cheek. She strokes it with her thumb and then moves to the other side, her fingers gently wiping his skin. He follows her movements and touches his own face, his fingers brushing something wet.

He looks at his hand, seeing the water on it. Ellie drops her hand and the empathic look she gives him says it all. He lets out a single laugh, almost surprised, when he realises he had been crying. He hadn’t even noticed. He was so focused on you.

“Is this why she wants to talk to me?” Joel’s voice seems to get stuck in his throat, deep and confused.  

“Diana?” Ellie’s voice is so quiet that Joel has to strain his hearing. She squeezes his hand once. He nods slowly, wiping his hand on his damp jeans.

“Maybe… She said she’s been dealing with a lot of people who have gone through trauma, maybe this is one of those things as well.” She talks like she’s trying to make sense of the situation for herself too.

Joel doesn’t answer her but lets her pull him back into the house. After a small cough and dropping his old boots on the mudroom floor he promises to warm up dinner for them both. He moves automatically, constantly having to swallow down the lump in his throat, and tells Ellie to busy herself with something while he takes a shower.

“I’m gonna be right down,” he promises her and his feet feel like they weigh a ton when he walks up the stairs.

He leans his hands against the tiles and the warm water falls on his head. His chest feels tight as he looks at the slowly fading imprints from your nails on his wrist.

He closes his eyes as he finally puts together what you were saying to yourself before you were taken away while wearing his clothes.

“I’m alone, I have no one, it was my fault, I’m alone…”

It’s the middle of the night when he walks downstairs to the mudroom. The rain has finally stopped. He takes your clothes and puts them all into the wash bucket. He wasn’t able to sleep, he couldn’t stop thinking about what you had told him.

He washes your clothes carefully. He’s thorough and makes sure that he gets every inch of fabric clean. He hangs them up to dry back on the hangers, listening to them drip on the tiled floors while wringing his own hands together while anxiety swells through his body.

The next update, the prologue for part two, will be up on the first of October! See you then <3

#the last of us fan fiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #katsheadincloudswrites #fractured fic

[starluvsx]

⭑ 𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Proofread: sorta....

Word count: 2.5k

WARNINGS: small mention of blood, swearing, just cute fluff besides that!

A/N: ik i said this would be posted a while ago but I've been super busy w school and everything and have just had no tine o write but her hit. is!this is acc something i've had in mind but have been able to actually write so it was nice to finally finish it. ok happy reading guys!

"I'm hungry," Nick complained from the other side of the couch. Matt, who was too focused on his phone to even acknowledge anything else around us, simply blew Nick off. only telling him to grab something from the kitchen.me and Chris on the other hand weren't very tapped into the movie all four of us were supposed to be watching. It was a little boring, yes but what else was there to do? Summer break is normally fun but there are always a few weeks where you feel like you've done everything you can for this 10 week break.

" there's nothing good in there, can we go to the gas station or something?'' Nick asked as he hung his head off the edge of the couch we all shared. With the small back and forth happening right next time I was now paying less attention to the movie.

Matt, who was still looking at his phone aimlessly, answered Nick's complaint and question combination with "my car is still in the shop so unless you feel like walking 2 miles then go find something in the kitchen." annoyed. not really sure what he was annoyed about since he hasn't even done anything all day besides sit on the couch and sit around the house with us.

"we could just take the bikes.'' Chris said from behind me. Nick silently made his way toward the kitchen while we tried to figure out a plan. Looking around the cabinets and the fridge for something to his liking.

“You know I can’t ride a bike asshole” I sassed as I turned my head a little bit in order to see him.

“No I fucking didn’t, what are you talking about?” He retorted.

“Like everyone knows that?” I replied.laughing at the brunette’s confusion.Matt shut off the movie and put something on cable since at this point nobody was even paying attention to it.

"I'm just hungry and bored so can we please find some way to get to the gas station for the love of God."Nick said, walking toward us from the kitchen dramatically plopping down back next to Matt on the couch.

The four of us sat there and attempted to think of a solution. "I'll just teach you how to ride,"Chris suggested as he got up from the couch, pulling up his gray sweats slightly.the 3 of us looked at Chris so he realized what he just said "how to ride a bike guys, Jesus..." he clarified as he shook his head with a small smile at our immaturity.

The rest of us got off the couch and began to walk toward the front door to leave. As Matt opened the door my eyes were met with a beautiful pink sunset. The winding down of the summer day made the weather very mellow. Warmth and a soft wind hit my bare legs and arms. watercolor sky painting the scenery.

I followed the boys toward their bikes and grabbed the extra one which was Justin's old bike. blue and silver spikes stars were spread over the bike. not exactly something I would ride if I had the choice but i'm not in position to complain.

as I hopped on it I noticed Matt and Nick beginning to ride away "teach her and we can bring you guys stuff" Matt yelled from almost 13 feet away. I turned to Chris who was unlocking his bike for the chain

"Okay!" he yelled to Matt before turning to me."Alright, you know how to get on it so that's good."he joked before getting on his own bike. "ok try to move the bike" he said, turning to me.

"ok..."I mumbled as I placed my feet on the pedals. I lost balance once both my feet left their place on the ground causing me to frantically put my left foot back on the gravel. I turned to the boy in front of me. his pale skin glowing in the dwindling sunlight. He made a concerned face before getting off his bike in order to help me.

"let me try holding the bike as you put your feet on the pedals."he explained. Chris then came around to the back of me and placed his left hand on my waist and the right on one of the handles.my heart began to beat faster. I felt supported by Chris' hold so I put my foot back on the pedal. "So now move the pedals as if you were gonna ride for real." I did as he said and began to pretend to ride the bike.

"Now when I let go, keep pedaling forward."nerves shot through me as I looked out to the long empty street in front of me. the fear of falling over took over

"Chris im gonna fucking fall"I expressed

"I won't let go of you, just the bike. if you fall I'll catch you, promise."He reassured me. His words encouraged me to try so as soon as he let go I kept pedaling. The bike moved quickly under my feet but I wasn't scared because of the support Chris had on my hip.

Once I was about half way down the road nerves set back in and I began to feel like I might fall again. I wasn't steering the bike correctly and was sort of swerving. "Chris, Chris I'm gonna fall!"I yelled. I tried to straighten the bike but it wasn't working.

"No you're not kid, I'm literally holding you,"Chris said, out of breath from running to keep pace with me. The end of the road was nearing so I knew I would have to turn around soon.

"How do I turn?!"I frantically yelled. as the rounded curb got closer and closer.the wheels of the old bike wouldn't slow down as they glided against the pavement.

"What?" Chris yelled from behind me.I hadn't even realized he let go and that I was doing this on my own.

"How do I turn!?"I yelled even louder hoping he would hear and then teleport next to me and turn the bike for me.

"floor it!" he shouted as I was about to hit the curb. I then jerked the handles of the bike and turned sharply. my legs moving faster in order to keep momentum. "Hell yea!!" he exclaimed from the opposite side of the street. His excitement made me smile.

our happiness didn't last much longer though because I didn't realize there was a huge pot hole right in front of me. The front wheel got caught in the crater and sent me flying forward.

"oh shit!'' Chris yelped as he jogged over to me. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins still so I didn't feel much pain coming from my scraped up elbow or my cut knee. "you okay? No broken bones or concussions?"

I giggled at his concern and wiped up some blood that had been dripping down my leg. "dude you fucking did it, you learned how to ride a bike!"he said happily. a huge smile painted on his sun dusted face. eyes fixated on mine which were inspecting the sting from my cut began to set in causing me to let out a wince.

"Ok can we get inside now."I mumbled out of breath. my soft voice broke him out of his trance as he darted his eyes away from mine.

"oh yeah sorry." he said as he stood up and dusted off his knees that had tiny rocks scattered on them. I put my hand out for him to help me up and he did so. helping me limp back to the house.

Once we got inside he told me to wait in the kitchen while he grabbed our bikes that he realized he had left outside. While he was outside I hobbled my way over to the freezer and grabbed some ice, put it in a plastic baggie with a paper towel around it and placed it on my elbow.

When Chris came back into the kitchen he began looking for the first aid kit. "Sorry I took so long, your bike was like lodged in the hole." he explained, laughing a little. I huffed out a small laugh as well. "Okay here we go!"he said as he closed the cabinet, turning around with a red and white box in his hands.

He placed the box on the counter and began to examine what was inside of it, pulling out bandaids, gauze, rubbing alcohol and cotton balls.Chris struggled to keep the things in his arms as he walked over to me. The items catering once placed on the counter. 

"hop up."he instructed. I did as he said, hopping onto the counter and shuffling around so I was comfortable and didn't feel like I was gonna fall off. I turned my head to watch him mess around with the medical stuff. putting everything into place. "this is gonna sting a lot" he said as he stood in front of me. cotton ball that had been soaked in disinfectant In his hand. i bit my lip as the alcohol made contact with my open wound. a stinging sensation being sent through my knee.

The slight pain went away as he stopped cleaning the cut. opening a brown bandaid and placing it on the cut carefully. "See, all better!"he joked, making me smile at his small gesture. our eyes caught each other as he looked up. both of us admiring the other's features.

for the first time in I think forever there was a silence between us. once that had to be broken but not by words. I hopped down from my spot on the counter unexpectedly .My action made Chris back up a little.

Without saying anything I hugged the brunette in front of me.wrapping my arms around his neck as he did the same with my waist. I buried my head in his neck and smiled to myself.

Chris pulled away from the hug before I could. I was confused at why he would do this wrong as he normally is a very big hugger with me. my confusion soon turned to shock as the flushed boy in front of me cupped my cheeks and pressed his lips onto my one passionately.

My eyelids slowly sunk down as my body melted into the long awaited kiss. i have had a crush on him for God knows how long but never came even close to knowing he felt the same way, let alone making a move.the front door opened almost as soon as we pulled away from each other. making us white our heads toward the door almost immediately. 

"hey guys-'' Nick began as he and his brother trotted into the kitchen, bags of snacks in hand. "the fuck happened to you?" he asked me as he set the snack down on the kitchen table.

my heart was still beating faster than I could think but I had to make everything seem normal. i mean my best friend can't know I just kissed my other best friend who also happened to be his brother. "This kid tried to teach me how to ride a bike, '' I said with a small, awkward giggle.

"alright i'm going back to the couch." Matt said groggily as he walked back to the place where he had been for most of the day.

"yea same" Chris followed short behind Matt with his snacks in hand.i didn't take my eyes off him he sat back down on the couch.

"You sure he only touched your how to ride a bike?"Nick asked me from across the counter.leaned over,interested in the truth behind what had happened while they were out.

I took a sip of my red bull before choking on the drink at the question I had been asked. "Yes Nick, I've told you before, I'm not interested in either of your brothers like that."I reassured the brunette.i hated lying to him like that but I didn't really want to tell him just yet.especially If nothing ever came about with Chris.after all me and him are still just friends.

"Okay I'm just saying, you're awfully flushed." Nick said.

"There's nothing there, girl , trust me. I think they're watching La La Land in there," I said as I let go of the topic, making my way back to the living room.upon entering I saw both brothers on each side of the couch so I naturally migrated toward Chris. the boy who had made himself comfortable on the couch moved his legs in order for me to sit there.

Once the four of us were all curled up on the couch together it was almost impossible to ignore the fact that Chris' hand was placed on my waist.I leaned on him a little but not fully so as to not make it obvious that I had lied earlier.

I have had a crush on this boy basically since we met and now he's finally showing that he feels the same way, just without words which I honestly prefer.anyone can say anything but it takes a certain kind for passion driven by truth to actually act on your words.spoken or not.i don't know what we are but I feel like it's spelled out pretty clearly that it's more than what we've been letting on

#sturniolo triplets #influencers #x reader #celebrity #youtube #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #cute #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Edition: Fight the Future Fics (Part II)

No intro needed part 2, I suppose.

Loose chronological order below~!

**Note**: I will edit later-- got to get this out now.

David Hearne's Nine

""13:12

Of course, could you say that time really exists in this world as well? I mean, time is a form of measurement, not a tangible element. How we use it changes from era to era. Five hundred years from now, people might employ a twelve-hour day instead of a twenty-four-hour one. And there's the theory of relativity to factor in. Time is really a face we paint over the universe in the hopes it might tell us something.

12:37

Right now, it's saying that me and everyone else in this building has less than thirteen minutes to live. It's telling me that I'm helpless to do anything except watch it happen.

12:05

All I wanted was a soda....""

Mulder stares down the bomb.

@unremarkablehouse/Surajtare's Pizza

""Earlier that afternoon they had stood among the smoldering debris and settling ash, amid the scream of fire trucks and ambulances and pedestrians, as those least concussed from the blast attempted to sort of the kind of error that causes a building to explode in downtown Dallas. The SAC was dead, that much was clear, and the advisory agents who helped lead the search in the misidentified building took no time at all to decide that Agents Mulder and Scully could be chargeable scapegoats.

It was almost fifty minutes after the explosion that Mulder was able to press a bottle of water into her dusty hand and nearly two hours after that that they were finally dismissed.""

Scully is concerned over the bombing; and all of Mulder's joking and teasing can't pull that anxiety from her.

Suzanne Schramm's Falling

""Only in my nightmares do I fall. Mulder has spent over twenty years in a free fall. I've always realized that I was his life line but tonight it no longer seems like such a burden. I acknowledge to myself, at last, that I need him just as desperately. He, too, makes me whole. Tonight he is the one who's grounded and I am falling. My eyes fill with tears and I cannot find the words to express my overwhelming love for him.""

Scully has lived with 'falling' nightmares all her life; but she and Mulder live it for real after the bee stings.

goodgriff's 15 Minutes

""Mulder!”

His eyes flew open and he inhaled a gust of wind. “Cold,” he echoed her words from earlier.

“Don’t sleep.” She kissed his brow, his eyes. He had never felt so loved. He had never been so cold. “Don’t sleep. Look at me—I need you to open your eyes and look at me.”

“Scully,” he whispered hoarsely, and forced his lids to rise.

“Hi,” she smiled, her eyes filling with frozen tears. “Hi,” she whispered again, reverently.""

On a timer for survival, Scully power drags Mulder to the Snocat, soothing him along the way and CPR-ing him back to life.

@jewish-mulders/@anders-hawke/@iwtbscully/BananaChef‘

We Always Reveled in the Pain - Chapter 6

""Come on, Scully,” he insists, desperation wrapping its fingers around his throat. “Please. We can make it back.” He pulls her with him for a few steps, but every time she moves her legs, white-hot pain shoots up from her foot and she whimpers. “Scully.”

He acquiesces and sits down again, pulling her back onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her as she presses her forehead against his. “I’m sorry,” she breathes into the warm, stinging air between them.""

Mulder tries to rescue Scully after he wakes; but the two collapse poetically in the snow, together even in death.

A First (Ao3)

""They’re both weary even a week after Antarctica—him from being shot in the head, her from the bizarre effects of the Africanized honey bee, and both of them from the beginnings of frostbite. Still, Mulder sneaks out of bed one night and knocks gently on her door three times to announce his presence. Scully opens the door and ushers him inside with a furtive glance into the hallway....""

AU--Post FTF Mulder sneaks to visit his under wraps gf Scully to celebrate having survived their newest adventure.

Girlie_girl7's and FoxfireX's

Reflections in the Reflecting Pool

""Can you get out of the pool Mulder? I can't carry you."

Mulder looks at Scully dejectedly, "I carried you the length of a buried space craft. The least you can do is carry me to the car."

"Come on Mulder." <grunt> "And it was NOT a buried spacecraft."

"Ouch, ouch, careful. Was too."

Post FTF Mulder trips right into the reflecting pool, sprains his ankle, and drags Scully in with him.

Susanne Barringer's Awakening

""I've never seen you sleep," he says gently, once again reaching out to brush away that same strand of hair that has dropped onto my cheek with my movement toward sitting up. I look at him curiously.

"What are you talking about, Mulder? Of course you have." He nods his head in the negative.

"No," he responds.""

Post FTF Scully wakes from an impromptu nap; and is surprised that Mulder had-- despite his own burdens-- enjoyed watching her blissfully sleep.

GingerAlchemy's Static Codes

""Trying not to look. Looking anyway. This is mostly what they do these days, if she’s being honest with herself. Scully sometimes feels like her whole life is spent trying not to see things for what they are.

But today, she’s in the driver’s seat and he’s reclining in the passenger seat with his lanky limbs all stretched out and a tabloid magazine in his hands.

...From where she sits, there’s not a thing wrong in the world.

“Scully, you’d never believe this. This woman claims she’s the reincarnation of Elvis.""

Post FTF Scully ruminates on purposefully not seeing as she and Mulder bump along companionably on a dead-end Kersh detail.

marasmus's (Xanadu) Life During Wartime 06 - Stand by the Window (Or, Things to Do in Dulwich When You're Dead)

""Once they had tracked him down, only his threatened cascade of disclosure kept them at a distance, growling and snapping.

A few years ago he might have fought them, might have tried to disappear for good, or else oust Strughold. Now he was simply tired of it all.

And so he was finally forced to live the life he had pretended to have all along.""

Post FTF Well-Manicured Man didn't die in the car bomb, living in retirement until the events of Two Fathers/One Son.

FabulousMonster's Hair Wars

""Despite my dislike, I thought the Hair served its purpose over the past year. It provided some levity, albeit to the wrong people. I knew The Gunmen--mavens of style--had been merciless in their critique.

But I think the Hair was Mulder's way of taking control of our roller-coaster existence last year. It wasn't lost on me that the Hair underwent renovations during high moments of stress. While we were off the X-Files, the Hair stayed consistently shorn. It was spiked to the heavens everytime we met with Kersh. When the ghost told Mulder that he was prone to paramasturbatory illusions, the Hair's sideburns virtually disappeared. I could almost hear the Flowbee being fired up after his drug-induced declaration of love in Bermuda.

I looked over at him again.... The Hair stuck its tongue out at me.""

Finally: an explanation for post FTF Mulder's horrendous buzzcuts and Scully's tragic S7 hair-- and TLG celebrating their friends' liberation. (I adore this fic with everything in me.)

Ten's (The Salvation Archive)

Laid Bare (Alt.)

""I knew he wasn't THAT far gone.

"Okay, here's the deal. Every few feet you manage, you rack up another kiss, to be delivered when we're settled in the snowcat. Reaching the snowcat will give you the bonus prize of some heavy necking, and a guarantee that when we get home, you'll get much, much more."

He blinks and gapes....

We make it to the snowcat. Now I know how to keep him from ditching me in the future... I should have worked out long ago that incentives are much more effective than threats...""

Scully threatens then wheedles Mulder back to the Snocat, helping to insulate him with alien goo, bring down his temperature, and reassure him he rescued her necklace as well. And after their release, she refuses to let her partner distance himself.

Sliding Doors

""Doors were opening along the hallway, neighbours sticking their heads out....

Mulder suddenly let out a strained choking noise. It abruptly ceased.

"Mulder?" Scully froze, then checked his vitals. His pulse was beating...

He wasn't breathing.""

AU-- Mulder accidentally squashes the bee on Scully and gets stung on his palm. getting stung on his palm. Between calling for help and trying to keep him alive in the hallway, Scully doesn't see danger until it-- literally-- smacks her in the face. But, of course, she's NOT letting her partner perish in Antarctica, stealing her mother's clothes and chastising herself all the forlorn way.

Beneath the Surface

""I couldn't hear the voices anymore. Whoever it was had probably gone to get help or security or something. Mulder would probably keep moving the car forward at the same pace, just enough to force me inexorably backwards until he had enough room to get the car out of the space. I couldn't let that happen. So I took a deep breath and pushed myself sideways, falling so that I lay directly in front of the left wheel. Leaving no room for him to manoeuvre except over me.

I'd left a metre between me and the bumper bar, but it was still scary to see the tread of the tire before me and hear the engine running.""

AU-- Scully thought Mulder had died in FTF, and vowed to make a confession once and more all. But he starts shoving her away, making rash decisions in The Beginning, and becoming shorter tempered and angrier at her. She realizes his hard-headedness has more to do with his actual head than their relationship.

@scullysexual/PostApocolypticAlien’s

Safe Now (Ao3)

""You were in the middle of nowhere, miles away from Bureaucracy and rules. Out here you were just Mulder and Scully- two people who witnessed and survived the impossible.""

Mulder wakes, holding Scully while a kind, random stranger hauls them back to safety.

100 days of 100 word dialogue prompts - Chapter 20

""Did you think I wouldn’t?” Mulder asks.

Unconscious, Scully hadn’t thought anything. In that tube, seeing him there, she thought she had died.

“It was irrational,” she says shaking her head.

Mulder smiles. “Would you expected anything different?""

Mulder brushes off Scully's shock that he'd followed her.

50 Days of Prompts - Chapter 19

""Why did you do it?”

Why did he go all the way to Antarctica.

“To save you,” he answers almost bewildered himself that she was really asking her that. “Because they shouldn’t have taken you, it’s not fair.” He shakes his head. “None of it’s fair.” All the pain he’s caused her; the abduction, death of her sister, the cancer, this. It all just keeps adding and adding and he can’t anymore, he won’t.

Scully sighs once more, looks to be defeated, and sits down beside him.

“Is that all you did it for?” she asks quietly.""

Mulder reiterates his dedication to and love for Scully over Diana.

Karen Rasch's

Fate, Chance, Kings and Desperate Men

""Oh well, that's what you get for visiting Antarctica out of season, he now silently mused as he padded stiffly across the tiled floor towards his partner, treading as quietly as he was able. Way too much unwanted attention. As far as he could tell, Scully and he were the only two full-time patients the facility had. So, together, they bore the brunt of the staff's zeal. Much to Mulder's dismay. He had repeatedly assured the medical personnel attending to his wellbeing. I'm fine, he told them. A little tired. A little crispy around the edges. But once you got past that and the assorted aches and pains throbbing along the length of his battered form, he really didn't have much to complain about. Nothing that a few hundred ibuprofen couldn't cure.

He wished he could say the same about Scully.""

Scully slowly recovers after being rescued.

Erin M. Blair's (Ao3)

Leaving My Love

""I can't let them divide us. I won't let it happen. If I leave him, who will protect him? Who will help him find the truth? Who will....? Don't go there, Dana. You know he loves you; you could see it his eyes.

I can't leave him.""

Scully leaves OPR determined not to let Them break the partnership; but she is unresolved on confessing her feelings or clinging to Mulder under the guise of professionalism. She knows he loves her; but....

As I Wait

""None of this make any sense to me at all. How could it make any sense? If it made any sense, Scully and I wouldn't have to appear at the Office of Professional Review.""

Mulder, excused from OPR, wallows in his confusion over being blamed for the tragedy... and almost dying without telling Scully he'd loved her.

The Conversation of Love

""Mulder and I were at the reflecting pool after my meeting with the Office of Professional Review. He wanted me to quit and to become a doctor. I know why. He didn't want anything to happen to me. He was scared of losing me. He was scared that I might die.

I would never leave you, Mulder. How could I leave you after everything that we had been through? It's impossible for me to leave. "If I quit now, they win." I gazed into his hazel eyes with a smile on my face. I love him. I know I love him.""

AU-- Post FTF Scully purposefully picks up the threads of their hallway conversation back at her apartment.

The Reunion

""I hope the bee doesn't sting me again," Scully murmured as she watched Mulder turning the key to open his door to his apartment....

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Scully.""

AU-- Post FTF Scully and Mulder pick up where they left off.

If the Bee Hadn't Stung Scully

""When Scully and I got back from Antartica, I was wondering what would happen if the bee hadn't stung her.""

AU-- Post FTF Mulder is oddly grateful that the bee stung Scully, since it did help them validify the reinstatement of the X-Files and brought to light their unspoken feelings.

Returning the Cross

""The cross necklace symbolized many things for both Mulder and I. For me, it symbolized my faith. My faith in God. My faith in Mulder.

As for Mulder, my necklace symbolized me. When I was missing, he finally told me that he wore the necklace to be close to me. He told me while I was in the coma that I had the strength of my own beliefs to pull through. I think that he wore it to feel my strength to pull him through.""

AU-- Post FTF Scully mourns the loss of her cross. Mulder drops in, gifts it back to her, and picks up where they left off in his hallway.

Discovery Of A New Hope

""Why are you calling?"

"This has something to do with that bomb," Erin answered, in a professional manner.

Scully saw her husband's impatient expression and decided to end the conversation. "Erin, we'll talk later.""

AU-- Mulder and Scully are married and expecting their third baby; but that, of course, doesn't prevent him from almost dying trapped with a bomb. Despite Scully's fears that their partnership will be broken up, her cousin (of all people) help the duo pull through.

Pattie's

Then, Let's Go Home

""Penny for your thoughts, Scully?"

"Hmm? Oh, I was just wondering where we go from here. You do know, of course, they'll destroy, cleanse, sanitize each and every thing we've said and written, everything we knew as evidence, and think they've broken us. But they haven't. I think you know that as well as I do." She patted his arm and smiled slightly, weariness showing around her eyes.""

Post FTF Mulder is shocked that Scully is staying by his side-- she even admits the spaceship, for his sake.

And Then He Kissed Me

""For our efforts to expose something dangerous and frightening, I was kidnapped. experimented upon twice, and now everything we accomplished has been for nothing. We have to pick up the pieces, pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and get on with things. Things? THINGS will never be the same.""

AU-- Post FTF Scully sticks by Mulder more than ever; and is deliciously happy that he slowly picks up where they left off.

jordan's Alligator Moon

""Edgar Ray Terran was dead. The wet parts of him seemed to have ended up on Scully, or splattered among the leaves, or in a long furrow filled with blackish blood and gore. There were patches of skin and hair on the tree trunks on the path, and fragments of clothing torn in pieces on the ground. The scene looked like the aftermath of an airplane crash with only one passenger and no plane....

Then almost without any thought at all, she had the Sig in her hands and Mulder was holding his automatic in a two handed grip and they were facing away from each other, turning in a slow circle. Whoever or whatever had done this was still out there. Scully felt her back come up warm and solid against his. They stopped for a moment, their breathing exactly in synch.""

Trapped in a cabin surrounded by either cocaine or sugar, Mulder and Scully are forced to pause long enough to address some of the frustrations of their stalemate after FTF-- and hopefully survive a particularly vicious wendigo.

EllieL/Ellie's Between Two Truths

""Mulder's words struck a chord with me. I was raised to believe that there was no greater democracy that American, but my work on the X-Files has challenged this belief. I now know this government keeps secrets from their people. And they do not do it alone. These secrets are the truth we seek.""

Post FTF Scully sits in the dark on a stakeout, thinking over the Antarctica adventure, Mulder's truth, and her new faith.

Canon-Divergence/AUs

Taverl's Arlington

""As the cab pulled away from the curb, he tried to calm his thoughts, to focus on the night ahead and the anticipation of seeing her again. Even though it had been a while since he had shown up on her doorstep he knew she wouldn't turn him away. But he also knew her acceptance would change nothing. 

Mulder mulls over Kurtzweil's hints, slowly coming around to investigating them with Scully (who he'd often dropped in for "late night" visits before.)

insouuuuf’s this is not going to end well.

““Her heart is racing ; a sudden feeling of uneasiness is settling into her.

Not because she doesn’t know who it is.

Oh no.

She knows.

That’s what’s making her feel that way. Him. At her place.

Three loud poundings in the middle of the night ? After what happened this afternoon ? : this is not going to end well.””

Mulder is not tipped off by Kurtzweil but winds his way to Scully’s anyway. She finally addresses their relationship, as well as her thoughts, goals, and fears. 

RebeccaRusnak/Anonymous‘s (mulderscreek) Small Blessings

""I didn't realize you were that big of a Sox Fan."

"It's not that. It's the principal of the thing."

"There's principal in a ballgame?"

"Normalcy, then. Think about it. It's about as far from here as you can get. The quintessential American moment.""

Mulder and Scully fantasize about warm summers and tropical vacations while waiting in the Snocat; but she doesn't let them brush off another genuine moment, leading up to an "I love you."

Jennifer Stoy's Somebody's Goodnight Kiss

""I remember the hallway very well. Her eyes ringed with tears, and a flicker that I swore was desire. My very own corner of beauty in the world, and she was gone. So long, Mulder. I'm leaving and that's that. I couldn't let it go.

"You were gonna kiss me," she murmurs. "But I was gonna kiss you right back at the same time."

My mind slips away from that and to the ice. Always the ice.""

Post FTF Mulder, hazy and discouraged in DC summer sun, asks Scully how she can keep going. A little tune and words of love help restore his spirits.

Anne Haynes's (Gossamer)

Package Deal (Alt.)

" She blinked, as if finally realizing that he was confused. "You haven't listened to ANY messages today?"

He shook his head.

A slow smile spread across her face, lighting it up from within. "Mulder, there's a message on your machine from Skinner. The FBI is reopening the X-Files."

Mulder felt something curl into a hot, tight little knot inside him. He sank to the coffee table in front of where she sat.

"Skinner said that Cassidy couldn't dispute the need to look into the possibility of a terrorist plot to spread a virus for which we currently have no cure. Based on our findings in the Dallas bombing case, they had no choice but to arrange for the reactivation of the only unit in the FBI qualified to pursue such investigations." Scully's ended her explanation with another mega-watt smile.

He couldn't help but smile back. "You did it, Scully."

AU-- Mulder and Scully are overjoyed: their trip to Antarctica bolstered their case, earning them an expansion for their office. They both start to solidify their own personal relationship as well.

(Follow up to this might be Chin Music/chinmusi.txt... I think.)

@im-a-goddamn-cat/Owlfrost1's (FFN) One Man Not Alone

""She begins walking down the hall, looking at all the containers and realizes that they're cropods of some kind. She goes over to one and wipes the snow off it so she can see inside. Inside is a man.... She wipes more of the snow away towards the bottom and sees something else in the cryopod with him. It isn't human and it isn't an animal of any kind.

It can only be described as alien.""

Mulder is stung instead of Scully; and she moves heaven and earth with fury to get him back.

stellar_dust's (Ao3) Heaven's Ashes (Ao3)

""Mulder turned the knobs wildly on the remaining oxygen tanks, praying he was turning them the right way, breathing with relief when he heard the telltale hiss, shoved Scully inside the transport bed and climbed in after her, pulled the top closed just seconds before something that was all claws and teeth and eyes and slime slammed into the side -

Mulder held his breath. The seal held.

Two more crashes - three - the vessel still held, and the thing slunk away after easier prey. He breathed again.

Outside the tiny capsule of sanity, he could hear raucous screams and cries, loud, cloying wails as though a soul was torn asunder from its body, muted through the walls of the isolation chamber. Mulder shivered, and the entire huge structure shuddered almost in perverted empathy.""

The vaccine malfunctions the ship, killing all the alien lifeforms and skyrocketing Mulder and Scully to space before they can escape. There is no hope of return; and Scully wrestles with anger and fear before resigning herself, returning to Mulder determined to spend whatever life she has left with him.

@nowwhateinstein's (Ao3)

Seeking Warmth (Ao3)

""Aren’t we a pair of ragamuffin Eskimos.” Mulder says the words quietly, just loud enough for me to hear over the crunching cadence of our feet as we trudge across the ice towards the hulking mass of a C-130 aircraft. Despite the geographic faux paux, his words are oddly encouraging, and I do my best to ignore the curious stares of the well-insulated, hale and hearty passengers who stream by us. Compared to them, we do make for a shabby duo: Mulder’s parka is ripped in several places, and the duct tape he used for patching only draws attention to that fact. My jacket isn’t much better....

We’re far behind the rest of the group, now. I’m still weak from dehydration and exposure, and have difficulty maintaining my usual “brisk pace,” as Mulder describes it. The over-sized boots aren’t helping, either. I have to stop and catch my breath for a moment. Despite the thick layers I’m wearing, I can feel the pressure of Mulder’s hand against the small of my back. He hasn’t left my side since my release from the Station's sick bay, and he clearly won’t leave me now.""

Scully, though a little wear and tear, feels better the closer she gets to DC, giving back some of Mulder's mother-henning and hallway gesturing when he returns her necklace.

 Violetta_Valery's The bee in the room

""They spend the next couple of hours turning the office upside down, in search of the vial. The smell of the smoke hits and stirs the air with every cabinet opened, every drawer rummaged, and it dilutes the heavy fragrance of Diana. Suddenly neither remembers the woman had even been there, too involved in the task of digging the truth.

It feels just like their golden days, and as they steal gazes at each other, both can tell there’s almost a thrill to it, a joy only them can truly grasp. But the vial is nowhere in their office. There is no stone left to be turned there, there’s no sign of it, and the search ends like countless of their cases: with a sense of bitter frustration, closed, but with a loose end to it. Only this time, they feel it in their bones. This time, it is personal.""

Post FTF Mulder and Scully burrow their hallway frustrations into righteous anger over Diana Fowley's betrayal (a heavily redacted OPR report)... and then decide to avoid their unspoken no longer.

Amatia's One Man, But Not Alone

""I don't even get a thank you?" he asked, reaching out to wrap his long fingers around her arm as she turned to place the glass back on a card table to the left of his bed. Beside it was another cot, the blankets rumpled.

He may be only one man, but he was not alone.""

Scully confesses her own feelings when Mulder finally wakes.

Paper and Amber Liquid

""Mulder's cell phone rang. "Mulder."

"Well, well, if it isn't Fox Mulder," came an unmistakable voice.

Mulder immediately tensed. "Is it true?"

"Yes it's true, you idiot," Alex Krycek snapped.

"Why?" Mulder asked.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you give it to me?""

After Mulder and Scully scrabble back to the Snocat and are rescued, Krycek decides to do them a solid by mailing them a little more vaccine. Scully takes the cure, doses up Mulder, and starts working on making more.

Nascent's

MetaRomance

""I sigh, considering a sarcastic remark but instead seeking refuge in the enigmatic. "That 'Whoever reflects on four things, it were better he had never been born: that which is above, that which is below, that which is before, and that which is after.'"

A normal woman would've remarked on how depressing that is, or thought of some intellectual reply, but Scully just scrunches up her face for a moment and then says, "The Talmud, right?"

With Scully, never assume.""

AU-- Post FTF Mulder ruminates on the on-again/off-again relationship he had with Scully since S3; and the agonizingly slow climb to this moment where he can finally say "I love you." with Scully, their tender relationship and hard times that led them to this moment on the couch, waiting for her to wake.

Pillar of Salt

""The chanting stopped, and as Mulder's vision cleared, he identified its source--Arthur von Deer, eyes and mouth wide in a cartoonish mask as he gaped at the resurrected agent. In his hands were two defibrillator paddles, but Mulder could see the machine attached to them wasn't charging. The endless, electric wail was coming from the heart monitor near Scully's head.""

AU?--Post FTF Mulder and Scully investigate a casefile that brings them both to death and face-to-face with losses that refuse to leave. Dreams and visions and double realities help them confront the one that they've brushed under the rug.

Said the Spider to the Fly

""Skinner hadn't given her pictures of the bee sting, or what came after.

"I'm only urging you to be careful," her supervisor had told her fiercely.

As if on cue, Mulder spoke roughly, a catch in his throat. "Who gave you these?"

She wet her lips. "Skinner." The older man's voice still rang in her mind: _I'm on your side, Scully. I know how this looks, but you have to trust me.""

AU-- Post FTF Skinner brings surveillance photos to Scully, concerned about Mulder's mental state and warning her about stricter Consortium surveillance. She flees with Mulder to a motel, carefully prying him open about his wounds from his sister and ex-wife. Of course, not is all as it seems.

Shoshana's

Recovery 01

Recovery 02

Recovery 03

Recovery 04

""I open the door to his apartment and he's still sitting on the couch, looking as glum as can be. I shouldn't have abandoned him like that. I shouldn't have left him alone just because he asked about Diana....

Mulder has no memory of the way we've been teasing and romancing each other this summer. But I do. Nothing earth shattering. Just a lot of quiet dinners at nice little places. A lot of moonlit walks.... He probably suspects that the shooting is what crumbled my resistance, forced me to affirm my feelings for him. Yes, most definitely it shook me up, made me re-evaluate our relationship. But also there were the events of the past few months, when our caseload dwindled and we had time to relax with one another.

He can't remember those lazy summer days we spent together and I regret that, because I've never been courted like that by any man, especially a man like Mulder. I'm determined to give him some much better memories once he gets his health back.""

S7 Mulder is shot on a case, losing all of his memoires of their life post the events of Fight the Future. Scully is devastated; but finds his private journal so he can relive the past year and becomes his encouraging shadow.

Enjoy!

#txf #Fight the Future Fics #Part II #Collector's Edition #xf fanfic #x-files #xfiles #mine #Surajtare #FoxfireX #Girlie_girl17 #Anne Haynes #BananaChef #jewish-mulder #iwtb-scully #anders-hawke #insouuuuf #David Hearne #Susanne Barringer #Suzanne Schramm #Nascent #Girlie_girl7 #Owlfrost1 #im-a-gmn-cat #FabulousMonster #marasmus #Shoshana #Taverl #GingerAlchemy #nowwhateinstein

[that-sokovian-bastard]

Crazy Rich Gothamite (2/2) - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Words: 2081 Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader Warnings: Swearing Summary: There's a lot that's going to change in Bruce's life. It's a good thing he has you. Author's Note: Purely stupid fluff and I love it. There is no Batman stuff in this, just a mention or two. It's a fun little au, it's crazy to think about how different Bruce could turn out if he grew up differently.

*not based on PatBat, just used that gif lol*

Part One

Bruce / Full Masterlist

—

"So?" You started when you picked up Bruce's phone call.

You could hear the wind on the street as he walked around, but it wasn't so bad that it was hard to hear him. "Well," He sighed. "I have officially quit my job."

"And? How'd it go?" You egged on.

"She was shocked. I told her I didn't want to quit, but I was going to work at the family business." Technically, it's not a lie. "But she really wasn't expecting it. I'll work out my two weeks and then fully start at Wayne Enterprises."

You laughed a little. "You didn't tell her who you really are?"

There was a little sigh from Bruce when you asked. "Well, no. I wanted to, but we can't risk this getting out before we're ready for it. She'll find out eventually."

"Seth is going to be so heartbroken that his work boyfriend is leaving him," You said. "Am I even allowed to go to that Starbucks anymore?"

You swear you could hear Bruce's eye roll on the other side of the phone. "I already texted Seth. He said I'm not allowed to break up with him, so he's breaking up with me," Bruce said. "And yes, you can still go there."

"Great!" You said. "But seriously, I'm proud of you. Now what?"

Bruce wasn't exactly sure, honestly. Sure, he had two weeks left of work at Starbucks and a few months left at school, but learning everything that goes into running Wayne Enterprises? He's not even stepped foot in the building in ten years, and now he's supposed to be CEO?

"How about a celebratory dinner?" He offered.

"I think that sounds perfect."

Bruce smiled. "And you know what, this one is definitely on me!"

You laughed into the phone, rolling your eyes slightly even if he couldn't see you. "It better be."

Bruce shook his head as he arrived at his car. "I'll pick you up later." Bruce smiled as he ended the phone call, surprisingly optimistic throughout this whole thing. Maybe it was because he finally told you everything and had you by his side. Now, he had to get serious and drive to Wayne Enterprises. Which he was not very excited for, but he knew he had to do it.

At least it meant he wouldn't struggle to pay rent this month like he expected.

—

Bruce waited in his car for you to get out of work. He had dropped you off on his way to work, so it worked out that he could pick you up. As he waited, he looked through his new checklist of things he needed to do soon.

__ Change name back ☹ __ Talk to student services center to see if the name change is an issue X Go to bank with Alfred to get access to the account __ Send Seth an apology chocolate basket for a laugh __ Figure out how to arrange a press conference? To announce this? __ Have Lucius arrange a press conference to announce this __ Have Lucius teach me how to do that __ Write a speech???

He was sure there was more to add to the list, but those were the ones he could think of off the top of his head. Sure, some of them weren't as important, but he needed those to break up the crazy seriousness of learning all there is to do at Wayne Enterprises. How was he going to balance the job and being Batman?

That was a problem to figure out later because just as the question occurred to him, the passenger door opened, and you threw your work bag inside. "Hey," You smiled once you sat down and shut the door.

"Hey, how was work?" He asked, shoving his list back into his coat pocket.

You shrugged. "Oh, fine. I can't wait until I graduate and can get a better job," You said. "How was yours?"

"It's going to be a lot of work."

With a slight chuckle, you buckled in. "I would be worried if it wasn't. But I know you're going to learn a lot and do great."

Bruce shook his head. "I was told today I needed to arrange a press conference so we can announce my coming to the company. I had to ask Lucius to do it because I don't know how," He groaned. "I had no idea where to even start."

"I don't think anyone expects you to, Bruce. You made your choice to grow up as not Bruce Wayne, so why would you know how to do that? Even if you did grow up as future CEO, would you know how to do that?" You asked, and he only shrugged in response. "Probably not. But that's why you're going to learn, right?"

He sighed. "Right," Bruce said.

"Besides, it's barely even your first day. Plus, you're starting months earlier than originally planned," You pointed out.

Bruce nodded. "At least I get to work at Starbucks tomorrow."

"That'll be nice. Two more weeks of goodbyes!" You smirked. "And two more weeks of kissing your favorite customer until I won't be your customer anymore."

"Seth was certain that I wasn't quitting but instead getting fired for fraternizing with the customers," He joked. "I just think he doesn't want to accept that I'm quitting."

You rolled your eyes. "You boys are so stupid," You said. "Now, where are we going to dinner?"

"Wherever you want. I got access to the Wayne account today," Bruce smiled wide. "What do you want to eat?"

Shrugging, you weren't exactly sure. "Probably something not too crazy. We still have a lot of stuff to do tonight, so no five-course dinners."

"McDonald's it is, then," Bruce joked and drove off, heading to one of the diners you two frequent often. But this time, and for many times to come, he would be paying.

It was always nice to have a chill, relaxing dinner together, where you could talk about anything and just de-stress. Bruce was telling you about everything he talked about at Wayne Enterprises today, and how not excited he is for some of it. He listened to you complain about one of your classes while he got to complain about one of his. Bruce realized as he listened to you talk that maybe there wasn't going to be much to worry about; at least he's got you by his side.

—

Even though Bruce's last day at Starbucks was a week ago, you were still going most days. It was a routine; you couldn't very well change it just because your boyfriend had to quit.

You found it funny that Bruce couldn't tell his team the real reason why he had to quit, but you knew soon enough that they'd find out. "Hey, your usual?" Seth greeted you when you got to the front of the line.

"Yes, please!" You smiled. "How's this morning going?"

"As busy as always. Hey, make sure to tell Bruce that even though he quit, he can stop in and get a coffee every so often," Seth said. He was just a little upset Bruce hadn't been to visit in the week he's been gone.

You laughed and handed Seth your card. "He's been a bit busy; I'm sure he'll be in soon," You said.

After Seth swiped your card, he looked back up at you to crack a joking smile, but it faded quickly as he saw the TV behind you. "Everything okay, Seth?" You asked.

"Uh," He hesitated, then pointed at the TV with your card still in his hand. "Is that Bruce?"

Your head shot around to look at the TV, seeing it flash with BREAKING NEWS and a picture of Bruce. The sound wasn't on, so you had to stick to the captions and headlines rolling across the screen.

WAYNE ENTERPRISES HEIR RESURFACES AFTER A DECADE!

Where has he been?

Why is he emerging now?

Welcome back, Bruce Wayne!

"Oh, my god," You said, barely audible. The TV played footage that showed Bruce being swarmed with reporters as he tried to enter Wayne Enterprises downtown. He didn't say anything, kept his face covered with his coat, and pushed through as much as he could without hurting anyone. You knew he could get through that crowd easily if he wanted to, but there was so much going on...

Once he got closer to the door, it opened, and two large men came out to assist him inside. They were able to get him some space to walk, and the doors slammed shut once he was safely inside. How the hell did anyone figure all this out?

You snapped out of the TV when you heard Seth say your name a few times in a row. You turned back around and saw that he looked confused. "What's going on? Wayne heir? I thought his last name was Pennyworth."

"I-" You weren't even sure what to say. "I have to call Bruce," You decided and took your card and receipt from Seth. "Thanks, talk later!" You said and got out of line to go wait for your drink before he could ask you anything else.

While waiting for your drink, you pulled out your phone and called Bruce. You thought it was going to go to voicemail because it rang so many times, but on the last ring, he answered. "Did you see a TV report?" Bruce said, not even saying hi.

"Just did at Starbucks. So did Seth. What happened?" You asked.

"Not sure. I haven't even got my name changed yet! I was going to go this afternoon after I got the paperwork filled out," Bruce groaned. "I thought I'd at least have a few more weeks before people figured it out."

You sighed. "Do you think someone blabbed?"

"It's possible, but we'll never know. Well, actually..."

"No," You whispered into the phone. "Batman is not going to interrogate everyone who works at Wayne Enterprises." Thankfully, the Starbucks is loud, so no one would have heard you anyway.

Bruce chuckled. "It was just a thought."

"It was a stupid thought," You said. "What's your plan?" They called your name for your drink, which you quickly grabbed and sat at a table in the corner.

"I have a plan for everything. Anything that could ever happen. But this?" Bruce paused. "I have no idea. This was not part of my plan. In my plan, I still had months to prepare! I don't know the first thing about what I'm doing," He said. You let him talk through it because you assumed he hadn't really gotten the chance to freak out yet. You assume he was pulled into a meeting as soon as he entered the building to talk about everything and the next steps to take. But he probably never got a chance to even process what was going on. And your assumptions were right, because he was freaking out to you over the phone, almost forgetting to breathe.

Bruce took a deep breath to catch up on the breaths he had already missed. "Hell, I can run around on the tops of buildings and fight criminals on every corner of Gotham. I'm fine with that," He said, which also clarified to you that he was alone. "This, however, is an entirely different ball game, and I am terrified to do this on my own."

"Well, it looks like you're in luck, then," You said, and paused for Bruce to process it.

"What?"

"You're not doing this on your own," You reminded him. "You've got me, right there with you. And you're going to get through this, even if it wasn't in your plan."

Bruce let your statement hang in the air for a moment. "You know that being involved with me is also going to cause people to become interested in you, I'm sure."

"Then we'll do that together, too," You confirmed. "So here's my plan: you take some deep breaths, drink some water, and finish out the day. Then, once you're off work, you come to my apartment, we eat some great takeout and watch a horrible movie. Does that sound okay with you, Mr. Pennyworth?" You smiled into the phone, which you're sure Bruce could hear.

Bruce also smiled, knowing that you're one of the few people who will continue to call him that. He nodded, even though you couldn't see him, and replied, "That sounds like the perfect plan."

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #dc #dcu #the batman #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #dc comics #dc imagines #dc fanfic

[kiyfra]

Chapter 2 of Scorpio is complete! Can be read here or on AO3. PokéRus AU belongs to @monsoon-of-art

“I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.”

——————————————

Ingo had come back to the Pearl Clan settlement and was outside Irida’s tent with the other wardens, all of them baying and scratching at the door as they waited for her to join them.

One by one the infected had lost their minds and turned into monsters, lacking even the nobility of animals. They might have superficially looked like pokémon, but they didn’t contain the spark of understanding and markings of a rich inner soul that real pokémon had.

She was going to be the last to turn after Calaba. The two of them had bunkered down in Irida’s living quarters and spent their remaining time listening as the beasts prowled the deserted camp, breaking into storerooms and rummaging through abandoned tents in their search for food.

They could have easily broken in to get at them; the flimsy tents wouldn’t stand up against several determined alphas. But they merely whined and begged for them to join their pack while the last two remnants of the Pearl Clan could only wait for the inevitable.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this,” Irida lamented with her face buried in her paws.

The Pearl Clan had dissolved under the young leader’s watch, her people forced to leave the grounds where Almighty Sinnoh had appeared before their ancestors. She wondered where they went after they were sent away, if any of them chose to stay in Hisui or if they had all left for better lives overseas. Did they stick together or did the Pearl Clan disperse across the world, it’s people scattered to the winds?

It had been a close race between her and Paulina to determine a successor to lead the Pearl Clan, with Irida winning out in the end. Paulina had been happy for her, even presenting her with the headpiece she was seldom seen without.

Irida had often secretly believed that the older, more experienced woman that had felt more like a parental substitute than a rival would have made a better clan leader than her. Now she was forced to listen to her whimpering and impatient barking at all hours of the day, demanding to know how she could keep her locked out.

“Rarely do we get a choice in such matters. I thought that I had made my peace with that, but life never manages to stop surprising me,” Calaba said.

There was nearly a century’s worth of lived experience behind her words.

The old warden turned towards the young leader. “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, I’ve made a real mess of things myself.”

Bitter and paranoid accusations were slung about from people that wanted something or someone to blame. A warden with no Noble to tend to was easy to point fingers at, whether they were a foreigner that kept their pokémon in strange capsules or a Pearl borne that refused to force their Noble’s remaining child to take their place.

Calaba’s insistence that a curse had been brought upon the clans had fuelled nasty infighting in the final weeks leading up to the clan’s exodus. They had latched onto her words in the absence of any other explanations and the old warden had inadvertently turned a member of the Pearl Clan into a pariah.

Irida knew the she never wanted that, but it was far too late for her or anyone else to make amends.

“You weren’t the only one who made mistakes. I wasn’t helping when I raised the possibility our predicament was caused by the false Sinnoh the Diamond Clan worships,” Irida said. “I don’t think our words or anyone else’s could have effected the outcome.”

“Don’t interrupt a foolish old lady when she’s going over her regrets on her deathbed. You know I made this far more painful than it needed to be,” the woman turned bibarel chided.

In spite of her misgivings towards the odd man, she never wanted to see him driven out. She suspected that despite his gratitude towards the people that had taken him in, Warden Ingo was never truly happy in Hisui and one day he would want to leave. Such thoughts had not abated over time, even after years had passed. How could Calaba think the man belonged with the Pearl Clan when he didn’t even believe so?

Ingo had dutifully complied with every prescribed exorcism and cure despite his skepticism and Calaba had done everything she could for a patient she believed was a lost cause.

“What would we have done without such a knowledgeable medicine woman treating everyone tirelessly? I wouldn’t have fared nearly as well as I did without you,” Irida insisted.

Calaba was always one of the people she turned towards for advice, along with Gaeric and Paulina. Her parents had been one of the causalities of a famine that had ravaged the ice lands in a cruel winter many years ago. Irida was too young to remember them, neither did she have any grandparents to raise her. She spent her childhood moving between the care of different adults and being supervised by older kids well into their teens. Most of them considered themselves babysitters with a few that took it upon themselves to act as mentors.

Paulina showing her how to care for and bond with the eevee her parents left behind, Gaeric teaching her how to endure the cold and not let it bother her, and Calaba guiding her through recipes for medicine and meals.

If Irida forced herself to try and remember her parents, they were the only people that came to mind.

Calaba remained doubtful and looked as though she was about to argue, but thought better of it. Sensing the line of conversation was going nowhere, she decided to change the subject.

“Was there anything you wanted to say or get off your chest?”

Irida pondered the question for a moment before shaking her head.

“I can’t think of anything in particular.”

A harsh cry mixed with a scraping sound came from outside and made Irida jump. The dissonant wailing of a glalie originated from Gaeric who was begging to be let in and banging on the door to make his displeasure known.

Calaba barely reacted to his forlorn crying, merely scowling and clucking her tongue as she felt a headache coming on. The old bibarel walked towards Irida’s kitchenware to put on the kettle, hoping some tea would calm their nerves.

She turned back to the glaceon, returning to the matter at hand.

“It could be any trifling thing.”

Irida thought back to when she was little and her eevee had gotten a scratch on its eye. She didn’t see what caused it and had run over to Calaba’s tent in a panic with her partner dangling from her arms.

Ursaluna’s warden calmly assessed the damage before concluding it was a minor and easily treated injury. She crafted two medicines for her eevee, one to speed up the healing and prevent infection, another to relieve the pain.

When she was older, Calaba taught her several common remedies, spending many evenings gently correcting her on dosage and how long to let plants simmer.

“Thank you for teaching me how to cook for myself and make medicines. And for always being there.” Irida looked away from Calaba and down at the floor.

“I wish I could be thanking Lina too.”

Calaba seemed momentarily at a loss, wondering where this was coming from before her expression softened in understanding.

“I was happy to do so and I’m glad you found it useful. Thank you for staying by my side when I was so sick.”

Calaba had fallen gravelly ill several years ago, leaving her so weak that she had been rendered bedridden. At her age it could easily prove fatal and it was an unspoken understanding by her and the rest of the Pearl Clan that she was at the end of her life.

Irida was busying herself with preparing a damp cloth and medicinal tea for the warden while forcing down a sickly anxiety when she called the girl over to her bedside.

She told her that she was happy with how she lived her life and she didn’t have to cry for her. It was Sinnoh’s will whether she stayed or left and that wasn’t something Irida could control. Why fight against the inevitable?

Everyone was quite surprised when her fever broke and she made a full recovery, Calaba most of all. Her death would come one day and it served as a sobering reminder that it may not be far off. It almost made Irida appreciate the Diamond Clan’s reverence for time.

A wavering whistle came from the kettle, rising in pitch to signal the water was ready.

Calaba carefully looked through her host’s tea selection before settling on one. It was a nice one from overseas, one Irida purchased from the Ginko Guild and had been saving for a special occasion.

After the tea finished steeping, she poured out a cup for each of them, making sure one of them was wide enough for Irida to lap out of. They drank their tea in silence for a minute before Calaba smirked to herself, amused by some private joke.

“I want to thank you for the buneary you brought me. It was quite thoughtful of you.”

Irida nearly snorted into her tea and the tips of her ears grew warm with embarrassment. Warm for a glaceon, anyways.

She had returned during a memory lapse one morning with a buneary she had apparently managed to hunt and left it on Calaba’s doorstep. It was certainly awkward trying to explain that to the warden and anyone else that witnessed her off putting behaviour. What exactly her thought process was in bringing that to a species that was strictly herbivorous remained a mystery.

“Lord Ursaluna was very appreciative of the offering. He wanted me to let you know,” Calaba continued, somewhat facetiously.

Irida pulled her ears down and hid her face in the flaps from her crest, wishing she could sink through the floor.

“Ugghhh... no...”

The warden chuckled at her mortification as she resumed drinking her tea.

The near incessant scratching and banging from the former humans grew louder and their yowling more pained and indignant. Irida worried their patience had run out and they would try to force their way in.

If Calaba was perturbed by the ruckus, she didn’t show it. But her gaze grew more distant and expression more somber.

“I’m not afraid of dying, I haven’t been for a long time. My greatest fear was being in pain.”

Tent framing started to creak as the howling reached a fever pitch, claws catching on fabric with the constant pawing that could tear a hole in their shelter. The clan leader’s eyes grew wide and her fur started bristling at the monsters looking to force the two of them out.

Calaba merely sighed and looked down at her cup morosely.

“I wouldn’t expect someone your age to easily come to terms with something like this. You did the best that could have been done and I’m proud of you.”

They were shoving each other out of the way for their turn to pound at the door, fighting amongst themselves for the chance to break it off its hinges. Irida desperately tried to think of some way out, her nerves completely shot.

Could they run away? The beasts had them surrounded and they would stand little chance in a fight. She wasn’t sure Calaba would be inclined to try either, still sitting down and sipping away at her tea in the very picture of resignation.

The frantic pounding and caterwauling carried on for a long time, long enough for Calaba to pour and finish a second cup. Irida listened anxiously for the cracking of timber or the tearing of cloth, twitching and jumping at every sound before the commotion finally slowed down and devolved into the usual pathetic whimpering.

The clan leader remained on edge, worried their reprieve wouldn’t last and the frenzy would flare up again. It was nearly an hour before she allowed herself to relax somewhat.

Her half finished tea had gone cold and Calaba collected their cups to wash and put away.

“...Thank you. If it’s alright, could we just pretend things are normal?”

The warden nodded in agreement and the two of them talked about anything and everything that came to their minds well into the night, falling asleep to the background noise of relentless crying from the mad alphas. The next morning, Calaba was gone. She had slipped out sometime in the middle of the night to join the caravan of beasts, leaving Irida as the only one left.

She spent a few more days holed up in her tent hearing her wardens yowling, not understanding why their leader wouldn’t join them and her blackouts growing more and more frequent.

Irida woke up one morning and knew deep in her soul that today was the day. She felt eerily calm as she accepted her fate; there was nothing she could do and nothing she could have done. Why fight against the inevitable?

Maybe Dawn and the Galaxy Team would find a solution in the end, but it was entirely out of Irida’s hands.

She didn’t have any beliefs about what would happen next, but she truly believed Almighty Sinnoh hadn’t forsaken them. Aide or comfort would be doled out solely at it’s discretion, in this life or the next in all of its divine wisdom.

Hopefully the Nobles would find it within themselves to carry on their duty to the clans and watch over them, for their sakes and for anyone unfortunate enough to be a victim of their madness.

She spent several hours making sure everything in her living quarters was tidied up and put away in preparation for her last meaningful decision. If she was praying for the grace and mercy of Sinnoh, the least she could do was not leave her space a mess.

When she was satisfied, she set about attending to her final matter of business. Working patiently, she twisted her head around and used her teeth to untie the knot in the back of her robe. She managed to get a tooth under one of the loops and tugged, loosening the cord holding the outfit together and sliding it off. Irida would no longer have any need of it.

That too was put away and after taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she leapt up to open the door with as much dignity as she could muster while scrabbling at the knob. The door swung open and Irida strode purposefully into the crowd of beasts, their ceaseless baying falling quiet at last. All of them regarded her silently as she walked towards the centre of the camp.

Ingo was perched atop a tent like an unmoving gargoyle, save for his eyes following her, with no doubts about where he belonged. Calaba, Paulina, Gaeric; there were no hints of recognition or familiarity in the eyes of any of the wardens, just the expectation that she would fulfill her obligation towards them.

The inky shadows that were now omnipresent in her mind were angrily threatening to suffocate her, to drown and snuff out her psyche.

It could do so whenever it pleased.

Far across Hisui, a young man came to a similar decision, relieved the waiting was over. Two clan leaders sat poised before their pack of wardens, ready to join them and ready to let their minds slip away into the darkness where they might never be found again.

#pokemon #pokerus au #pokemon legends arceus #warden calaba #pla irida

[mcd-brainrot-hours]

rahhhh here’s my vylenix week day 2 submission @vylenix-week

i went with staying warm :3

Shadow knights aren’t created to last in the cold. They reside in the nether where the only temperature was hellishly hot. Vylad had only just begun to get used to it before he was sent off on a mission to the coldest place in the overworld- in his opinion.

They wasn’t on this mission alone, though. The Shadow Lord thought it would be a good idea to put them and Zenix on a team. Vylad didn’t know much about him other than Zenix is the same age as him. Too young to be doing this.

Vylad was snapped out of his thoughts by Zenix’s groaning. “What are we supposed to do in this storm?!” Vylad finally realized that it was snowing. Hard.

“…complete our mission?” They suggested. Zenix stared at them. “We can’t function for long in this, Vylad. Your scarf can only keep you warm for so long.” Vylad watched as Zenix impatiently looked around. “Are you gonna come with me to find shelter?” He didn’t even realize Zenix started to walk away.

Vylad barely noticed the cold seeping into his bones. He adjusted his scarf and tried to follow Zenix but his legs decided they had enough of walking. Zenix watched Vylad as they slowly made their way toward him. “We need to find someplace for you to get warm.” He said, a small hint of concern in his voice. He looped his arm around Vylad’s. They could feel Zenix trying to stop himself from shivering.

That’s funny, Vylad thought. Shadow knights are supposed to care for each other. They stayed linked together as they struggled to navigate through the nasty blizzard they were caught in. Zenix took the lead in finding shelter. Vylad just let him drag them along.

But it was Vylad who noticed the small cave entry ahead. “There!” He called, his voice just barely heard against the howling winds. Zenix picked up the pace. It didn’t take long for him to start running. The snow kept coming down relentlessly.

Zenix shoved Vylad in first. “We can wait it out here and then we can-“ He was cut off by Vylad dragging him to sit on the floor of the cave next to him. Vylad unwrapped their scarf from their neck and covered themself and Zenix with it the best they could. This should help… at least a little.” He leaned against Zenix’s shoulder.

Zenix flinched. Vylad’s curly hair was so close to touching Zenix’s face. “It’s for warmth, dumbass. Don’t think much of it.” Vylad teased. Zenix could feel him shivering. “Shad would be pissed if he knew his newest knights were cuddling.”

“Didn’t you just say this was just for warmth?” Zenix reminded him. Vylad lightly punched him. “Shut up.”

Zenix sighed. “Fine. We’ll worry about our mission and the Shadow Lord later.” He rested his head against Vylad’s. He felt Vylad’s gloves hand reach for his.

The green scarf wasn’t doing much for warmth, but the two of them almost felt like they were back in the nether. Neither of them knew what this strange feeling was but it filled them with warmth.

The blizzard continued raging outside of their cozy cave.

#trying to write romance as an aromantic is kinda hard #minecraft diaries #mcd #vylad ro'meave #zenix mcd #vylenix #vylenix week 2024 #live laugh vylenix

[gargelyfloof118]

Hoo boy, it's been a week.

Hubs finished the final pump house. It's the ugliest of the bunch, but it's just as insulated as the others.

Monday brought a freak thunderstorm blowing across the lake that built up hailstones. It rained so hard for 45 minutes straight that we couldn't see past the front doors, and our weather station read almost 2 inches from just that 45 minutes.

The hailstones were in the last couple of minutes and they made it look like it snowed. The wind threw our feed tent into the trees. It was tied and staked down, but the wind ripped the tabs out of the tent and just flung it.

At the end of the day, when we thought we could rest, one of our horses choked. The vet was called, I rubbed his neck like a madman and managed to clear the choke (and strain my stomach). The vet came out after dark (woo after hours vet bill) and double-checked my work and gave him some anti-inflammatory. He's on mash dinner from now on.

I don't remember much of Tuesday. It passed in a blur of cold and wind. I tried to rest. My dad is having issues and has been in and out of the hospital. My husband was informed that everyone in his company might not get a paycheck this week.

Yesterday, it rained all day. More hail. Bigger hail. The horses got their jackets thrown on. Hubs had to do a hay run in the rain. The feed store didn't have any, so he had to go back and get a compressed bale. I had to start dinner since he was running behind. Im still not ready to be standing that long. I'm healing fine from the surgery, but my muscles need to catch up with me.

It's sunny today. Still cold. Wind is howling. I haven't done much. Friends were supposed to come visit, but things came up.

I'm hoping Friday is uneventful.

#my worlds on fire #please send help #thankfully the horse is fine #dad is mostly fine #im mostly fine #husband is mostly fine #i dont think i can take much more bad news right now #homestead #farm #horse stuff #draft horse #pump house #waterline #hubs has knee issues and is putting off taking care of it until im better #me being unable to drive has kept him running #if he could get rest hed be much better #but theres so much to do

[myloveforhergoeson]

That's All She Wrote - Chapter 26

Chapter Index

Find me on wattpad + ao3!

Chapter 26: Original Prankster (2.7) ~ 11K

Waiting for the day to be over just as soon as it began was excruciating. 

From the moment Roxy woke up, her mind was already on the evening since she and James had made plans to spend some time together to wind down after their busy work week. The band had been so caught up in recording a new song Gustavo had written, “Big Night,” which he only felt was perfect enough to release the previous day after about a week’s worth of producing sessions. 

Not only had that been getting in their way, but Jo and Kendall had a strange face-off with Jett and the New Town High publicist a few days ago. Apparently, the publicist had tried to break up the young couple so the media could think the two show co-stars were together and boost the show’s ratings. Roxy got an earful about it from both Kendall and Jo, then unexpectedly a bit from Jett at the pool the other morning, so her free time to spend with her boyfriend had been filled up by others using her as a space to vent.

It’s not like I never see him… Roxy’s mind wandered as she and the boys finally returned to their apartments after work. They’d technically been together all day at school and Rocque Records, but when she and James split off from Carlos, Kendall, and Logan, her stomach filled with butterflies at the door to 2-H. But this is far different.

   Though he might have thought he was good at hiding his emotions, Roxy could tell James had also been a bit antsy throughout the day, be it from wanting to get out of Mrs. Collins’ boring lecture on chemistry or the relentless five-hour dance practice Gustavo had put him and the band through. In class, she could feel his leg bouncing up and down at the desk beside hers, the rough material of his blacked-out jeans gently scratching against the skin of her calf. Then, at work, he complained far more than usual about Big Time Rush’s strict training schedule and the minute the clock struck six, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the booth where she was testing out a few new melodies. 

To know he wanted to spend time with her just as badly as she wanted to spend time with him sent another bout of fluttering through her chest. 

This is what having a boyfriend is supposed to feel like…

They’d been together almost all of three weeks and not a day had gone by without a similar jittery feeling. James didn’t have to tell her how much he enjoyed being with her, she could just feel it any time they were around each other. His longing glances toward her through the glass in the studio when the band was recording, the eagerness with which his hands would seek out hers when they walked side by side, each and every time they kissed… Everything was just perfect.

Roxy couldn’t be happier. 

Tonight was no exception, even as they popped open the door to 2-J - Mrs. Knight’s rule - and plopped down onto her couch. 

As the writer snuggled into her boyfriend’s side, she picked up the TV remote and turned the device on, absentmindedly scrolling through the guide to pick something to watch. Though, admittedly, if James kept rubbing circles onto her hip with his thumb as they cuddled, she hoped they wouldn’t be watching whatever she picked out for that much longer. 

“Hmm,” The girl sighed, pressing the downward-facing arrow on the remote over and over again until the TV guide landed on the CW channel. “I don’t think I saw this week’s new episode of New Town High… We were too busy in the studio.”

New Town High aired on Wednesday nights, which was awfully inconvenient for the writer considering that was the night Gustavo tended to hold her back after work to get some songwriting in. Between watching her friend’s show or furthering her career, it wasn’t very hard for Roxy to prioritize her job over TV, even if she hated the position her producer put her in. 

Those same nights, Big Time Rush kindly waited around for the pair to finish their work in order to carpool home together, but she knew they secretly enjoyed their free time at Rocque Records. They took advantage of the sweet employee break room Gustavo had set up, filled with comfy couches, a TV, a foosball table, and a small kitchen she and Carlos had accidentally destroyed with a coffee maker their first month in L.A. 

Kendall never missed an episode of New Town High, even if it meant watching Jo’s character, Rachel Blesse, and Jett’s character, Drake Steele, get into a world of supernatural trouble. So, Roxy knew James had likely already seen the episode if Kendall had it on while they waited after work. Whenever her boyfriend was bored, he certainly let her know it, which is exactly what she was banking on to decompress after their long day. 

And, just as she suspected, it took less than five minutes for James to seize his window of opportunity. Gently, he reached up and traced his fingers down the chain of her necklace, slightly grazing her collarbone before leaning in to place a few kisses on her cheek. It was funny sometimes, how predictable he could be, but Roxy loved it all the same as she let him work down her neck while she pretended to watch the show. 

Eventually, though, she found herself twisting around in his arms to bring her lips to his, pushing him back into the couch’s cushions as she leaned further in. She felt him smile beneath her, which made her stomach flip into a fit of somersaults while she ran a hand down his solid chest. 

 In turn, James’ hands made their way from her cheeks down to her hips, dragging Roxy over into his lap as he continued his onslaught of kisses. That little move almost sent his girlfriend into cardiac arrest, weighing the pros and cons of closing the connecting door to 2-J for the evening, before an unexpected honking sound blasted through her speaker system.

The suddenness of the loud noise caused her to jerk a bit on her boyfriend’s thighs before her eyes shot open. Of course, at the most inopportune time, the stupid show she had put on that was supposed to be the background to their evening together created a beautiful set of lyrics weaving through her mind. 

“Shit…” Roxy mumbled against James’ cheek, forehead falling to his shoulder in defeat. Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

In an instant, his hands vanished from her body. While she hated it entirely, she was thankful that if something were actually wrong he would be accommodating. 

When she pulled her head from his shoulder, she ran the lyric set through her mind once more to make sure she didn’t lose it, while James sat frozen still under her, hands shot into the air like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t be red-handed. 

It would be nearly impossible to rip herself away from this perfect moment if his eyes kept searching her face for any further explanation, so she let her gaze flit to the kitchen counter behind her. Earlier, she had set her book down there and now it was calling her name as the lyrics kept playing over and over. 

“Um… Everything cool?” James asked her, confused tone making her feel horrible for interrupting their little moment. “If that was too much we don’t have to-”

“Oh!” Roxy felt herself cut him off. “No… No, it’s not that…”

James lowered his hands once he understood he wasn’t the issue. “But?”

He was so kind and patient without even realizing it, helping her work through the tangled mess of thoughts in her brain. 

With a big sigh, Roxy turned again to look at her songbook, “But, uh…”

Her gaze turned back to him again, then to her book, then back to him. 

“Babe?” 

Now another thought raced through her head: Can he feel my heart stop every time he calls me that?

After another deep breath, she managed to put her dilemma into words. “Remember that song I had you write in my book a few months ago? The one in the Pontiac?” 

She watched as his eyes flickered to the upper left, attempting to retrieve an insignificant memory from what felt like forever ago, though eventually, he nodded.

“The sound of the horn it…” Reluctantly she picked her hand up off his chest and circled it a few times, trying to pick out the right way to phrase exactly what she wanted to say. “I’ve got a lyric idea I think I should write down so I don’t lose it but I really, really don’t want to stop.”

After a moment of quiet contemplation, James began to shake with laughter once he understood the situation his girlfriend had found herself in. It caused her to smile a bit too, slightly bouncing as she still sat on top of his legs. 

“Well, lucky for you, I do value my career quite a bit… How about you write your idea down and we can see what happens from there?” 

I have the most understanding boyfriend in the world.

Reluctantly, she gave him one more quick kiss before pulling away, practically running over to her book to expel the words circling around.

Everybody knows what I want ya,

If you want me, baby, show me,

Roll the windows down, let your hair flow,

Let it all go, tonight

And just when she was ready to stand back up and leap back into James’ arms, the notes he had scribbled out for her almost jumped straight off the page. Blur melody… Song 2? What did I mean by that?

Certainly, that needed to be taken care of first, so she dragged herself into her room to grab her guitar and amp to work that out as quickly as possible. 

***

Roxy hadn’t meant to get lost in her writing, but when she felt the couch shift beside her as James stood up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, she noticed the clock on her TV stand’s brilliant blue numbers.

It’s been two hours? 

Looking up from where her nose had been buried in her journal, she watched her boyfriend cross the room and step into her kitchen. He hadn’t said anything at all, which was so incredibly out of character for a guy like James, and an apology for the interruption hardly felt like enough from her for ruining their night together. 

Absentmindedly, she strummed out a few minor chords on her guitar to reflect her agitation with herself for letting the time get away from her. 

From the kitchen, James continued to silently sip his drink, though Roxy could feel his eyes on her as she scanned over the notes she had written down in her journal. Compared to the script James had written the words down with ages ago, her writing was much harder to read; It was easier to figure out exactly what she had wanted out of the verse he had copied down for her than anything she had written out over the past few hours. 

The swooping, bold lines of the pen illuminated his words clearly, even though most of the letters were connected through incredible cursive strokes. Next to it, her chicken scratch looked almost intelligible. 

“Your handwriting is so pretty, James,” felt like an appropriate comment to make at a time like this, though she spoke the words more into the notebook than to her boyfriend as she traced her finger over the first line he had written. “I actually think you’re the only person besides me who’s ever written in one of my songbooks… Isn’t that cool?”

Back before she was writing for Big Time Rush, focusing all her time on trying to write some originals for Brand New Day with Mag and Dani, she never let either of them put anything down on any of her journal’s pages. 

Maybe she liked James a bit more than she had realized, even all the way back then. 

When James didn’t respond, she finally dared to glance his way to find him making his way back over to the couch with the glass in hand. Making sure to set it down far away from her book and amp, the long-haired boy fell down right next to her on the couch and gave her a small peck on the cheek. 

What Roxy didn’t realize was this kiss was simply a distraction; James had swiped her red pen off the table. Then, while she was busy swatting him away and telling him she needed to focus, he caught her journal as well, jumping up and running back over to the other side of her apartment. 

She was barely able to shout out a small, “Hey!” and untangle herself from the guitar strap slung around her shoulder to chase after him, watching as he flipped to the very last page of her songbook and scribbled out a message. 

By the time she had made it over to him, the damage had been done. More of his gorgeous handwriting had graced the pages of her book, so could she really be all that mad? It’s not like she didn’t mind him touching it, but the thought of him reading some of her journal entries from before they were together…  Yikes.

Shutting the pages with a crisp snap once she stood across from him, James held the book and pen far above his head, blocking out some of the soft rays from her kitchen lights. Now she’d certainly never get it back if he wanted to play that game.

Why do I like tall guys again?

Last resort, Roxy batted her eyelashes a few times, glancing down at her shoes before looking back up at her boyfriend with a pretend pout. That had worked last week when she had convinced him to buy her some ice cream after work, but this time, he let out a soft chuckle and shook his head, continuing to hold the book up. 

He’s becoming immune…

Now on her tip-toes, Roxy let out a few more unkind words of protest as she reached up to try and grab his arm, but it was no use. James was too busy laughing at her feeble attempt, waving the book around whenever she came close.

“I’m gonna need a little more than that, babe…” He shared, followed by a loud, exaggerated kissing noise. 

With a huff, “Jerk,” she gently reached out to cup his cheek, pulling him down into her to give him exactly what he had asked for. 

When James didn’t immediately hand the book back to her, probably too busy trying to figure out if he could con more kisses out of her, Roxy impatiently crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the tile, waiting for him to return it. 

Then, the moment the book was back in her hands after their little exchange, Roxy hurriedly flipped to the back, oddly excited to discover just what he felt the need to add to her blank sheets. 

Right in the middle of the last page, the bright red ink of her favorite pen jumped out at her, and James’ scrawl elegantly addressed her:

Songbird - Don’t ever stop writing songs about me.

Within seconds, Roxy recognized the faint heat creeping up the back of her neck, quickly shutting the journal and sending the cover flying into James’ arm. “That’s not a lyric idea!”

“It can be if you work a little bit of your writer magic,” He teased, running a few fingers down her arm before grabbing her free hand and bringing her back over to the couch so she could continue to work.

“Bold of you to assume this one’s about you,” Roxy shot back, adding in just a dash of side-eye. The first verse she had written months ago hadn’t been, but this new one… It was tough for her to write a romantic song and not think about James. “But, no, I don’t ever plan to stop.”

Now it was her turn to render him speechless, basking in the way she had caught him off guard before they reached the couch to cuddle a bit more before he had to head back to 2-J for the night. 

Roxy had earned a kiss on the head from her boyfriend at her words before he let her go to place her guitar and amp back into her room, inspiring one more short line for her new song.

You drive me crazy, but you know that

“Hey,” She thought aloud, once she had finished writing her new idea down. “Wanna have a picnic before work tomorrow to make up for the time we missed out on tonight?” 

James’ reply was immediate, though a bit garbled as he called from her bedroom. “Sounds fun! It’s been a while since we hung out in the park.”

While Roxy had been thinking about doing it at the pool, his suggestion to have it at the park instead was more than stellar. Her mind was already racing with all the cute little finger foods she could put together with the contents of her fridge and she was pretty sure she had a checkered blanket tucked somewhere in her closet.

By the time James had reemerged, he was about to add something else to his previous statement, but Mrs. Knight called his name from down the hallway. 

Curse his stupid curfew!

Not that he’d had one before they started dating, so she did bear some responsibility, but it had certainly put a damper on their planning for the next morning.

“I’ll text you in a bit, okay?” He said, glancing at the connecting door of their apartments. It was never a good idea to keep Jennifer Knight waiting. “Thanks for tonight, babe. See you in the morning.”

As he kissed her, she let out a soft, “Goodnight,” and just like that he was gone. 

For a moment, she wondered if James’ parents would be more lenient about their relationship if they were still living in Minnesota. He’d mentioned his dad once or twice, so she didn’t know how strict he would be and the only thing she knew about his mother was that she was very protective of who her son dated. 

Am I the kind of girl you take home to your parents?

Dak Zevon certainly hadn’t thought so, but then again, he hadn’t thought that much of her at all. 

Once Roxy relished in that painful thought for a moment, she trudged into her room to get ready to go to bed, one resounding thought standing out in her mind. 

James Diamond is the kind of boy you take home to your parents.

He was funny, sweet, and ever so handsome, with a special sort of boy-next-door charm which meant moms probably went just as crazy over him as their children did. Dads on the other hand…

Shutting the lights off, Roxy managed to crawl into bed, fingers trailing over the necklace her father had given her for her birthday and heart skipping a nervous beat when she realized, I still need to tell Dad we’re dating.

***

The following day, James and Roxy’s picnic date had been just what the two needed. 

Warm Los Angeles sun raining down on them, delicious food, the outdoorsy atmosphere of the park - Everything was exactly as it should have been, right down to Roxy glancing over to her date, finding herself nearly getting lost in his hazel eyes when she leaned into him and vaguely shared, “For dessert, I thought we could…” Of course, James knew exactly what his girlfriend was insinuating, moving toward her as well before his phone’s text tone went off. 

While Roxy thought nothing of this, continuing her motion, her lips ended up falling onto his soft cheek as he mumbled out, “Maybe next time.”

That sent her heart sinking straight into her stomach as she watched James hop up from the blanket and sprint off toward the hotel. Next time? 

From the other side of the green park field, she noticed another speeding figure, Logan judging from the lab coat he was wearing, making the same beeline for the Palm Woods. 

“It’s time! It’s time, James!” He screamed, nearly catching up to his long-haired friend, knocking over her basket beside Roxy with his feet and completely stepping over the plates she had prepared for the picnic. 

Lap now covered in vegetables, she thought about catching his leg to trip him, but settled on, “What the hell, Logan?” as her friend grew farther and farther away. 

No explanation from either of them, though it was something they were clearly in on together, Roxy couldn’t help but grow just a bit annoyed at her boyfriend. Did she deserve to be so easily tossed to the side? Maybe after her actions last night. But James not even wanting to kiss her? That was a whole new level of worry settling in her chest. 

Slowly, Roxy picked the carrots and celery from her jeans, thoughts flickering back to what Logan had told her about James’ last serious relationship. One month. And for us… It’s been three weeks.

She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she was panicking just slightly. 

At the very least, she’d have to take the boys to work in about an hour, so she could probably do some sleuthing then. However, if it was something the rest of the boys knew about and something James didn’t want to talk about, she wondered if Logan would share it with her. Since she was still fighting with Camille, in the event of a worst-case scenario, she’d need all the support she could get from him.

Placing the plates the studious boy had crushed when he had trampled her nice spread down into the picnic basket, Roxy tried to push the thought out of her mind. Just because she was shaken up after her last relationship had put her through the wringer didn’t mean she needed to be worried about this one. She trusted James, completely and the course of their relationship was, so far, out of this world. She had nothing to worry about except quieting the doubts clouding her mind. 

I don’t write during our time together too often… Right?

Buzz buzz

A text message from Kelly caused Roxy’s phone to vibrate in her back pocket.

K: No need to worry abt work 2day

K: Time off 4 u n the guys

K: Njoy!

What that was all about, the assistant had no idea despite remembering leaving Rocque Records yesterday with so many points written down on her boss’ to-do list. Roxy, however, wasn’t interested in arguing with Kelly. Any days off were appreciated, and now she could spend some time in the park to herself, connecting with nature to clear her mind while her boyfriend was off doing who knows what. 

Just as she had given up piling everything into the large picnic basket beside her, Roxy let her back hit the blanket, staring up at the smoggy California sky. There were a few puffy clouds, nothing big enough to block the sun, and a handful of birds making their way through the open space. 

She nearly felt comfortable enough to nap, and that could certainly quell the anxiety pounding through her body, but she heard someone call her name, pulling her out of her relaxed state.

“Katie?” Roxy said, shooting up into a sitting position. 

From the path a few feet away, the young Knight was storming over to the writer, face scrunched up in anger. “Your boyfriend is being a misogynistic jerkwad! Fix him!”

In response, the teen blew out a large huff of air. “He’s what? Have you tried talking to your brother about it? He’d definitely be willing to kick some sense into James.”

“I can’t!” The girl replied, reaching for Roxy’s hand and tugging at it to pull her to her feet. “Kendall is the king of the misogynistic jerkwads.”

Forgetting how freakishly strong Katie was, Roxy was easily hauled to her feet and was now being guided toward the Palm Woods. “Um, I’m going to need some background here, Katie.”

“We need reinforcements.”

“Like?”

“You know who.”

Now that they were cutting into the hotel’s back staircase, Roxy was able to dig her heels into the ground at the statement, fighting back as best she could against her friend’s kung-fu grip. “I can’t see her right now!”

“You can, and you will,” Katie affirmed, ascending the stairs to the second floor, not letting go of the writer. “We’ll pick up Jo first if it makes you feel better, but we need Camille. She’s the only one who can get through to Logan!”

Instead of fighting back against the stubborn young girl as she continued to drag her up the stairs, Roxy chose to focus instead on Katie’s hot pink watch as it circled her tiny wrist. She and Kendall were more alike than the two chose to admit, down to their flannel fashion choices and digital timepieces. If she needed help taking on her brother, Roxy would be a bad friend not to help her out. 

With a sigh, the assistant finally relented. “Fine. Only because I care about you and I hate that the boys have you this worked up. But if Camille utters one word about James I'm out.”

“Deal.” Katie agreed before the pair collected both Jo and Camille from their apartments.

The rundown she gave the three of them was quite convoluted, and she was very emotional about the entire situation which made it that much harder to understand. Though, eventually, the teens caught on to what she was saying. Admittedly, it was hard for Roxy to concentrate, standing so close to Camille and all, but for now, she tried to put aside their argument for the sake of the greater good.

As their young friend explained, the boys had invented a game in middle school in which they would launch into an intense prank battle one day out of the year to win a giant crown they had constructed in one of their art classes. Not only did the four of them take the game incredibly seriously - which now explained why James had run away from her so easily earlier - but they had an entire book chock full of rules to ensure everyone played fairly titled Lord Prankerton’s Book of Rule. 

Rule number one: If ye is pranked, ye is out. The last man to go unpranked becomes Lord High King and wins the crown. 

Rule number two: No girl shall play.

At this point, Katie had listed off every single rule in the book and completely lost the other girls, but the sentiment remained the same. Big Time Rush didn’t think girls were as good at pranking as guys were - A fact that would soon be remedied by all the schemes cooking up in Roxy’s head.

While she was no prankster herself, her father had been the exact same age the band currently was when he began raising her. She knew the ins and outs of whoopie cushions, fake vomit, and plastic spiders all because she had been subjected to it while she and her dad were growing up together. 

If the boys wanted to be boys, that was fine with her, they would just have to be cool fighting fire with fire. 

Once Katie’s long-winded explanation had finished, she determinedly shot off toward the lobby and almost left her companions in the dust. 

The three girls stood awkwardly on the fourth-floor landing, all-knowing every bit of the drama unfolding between Roxy and Camille.

Well, this is uncomfortable.

“Look, Roxy, I’m-” The ravenette tried, reaching a hand out toward the songwriter.

“We better follow her,” Roxy cut Camille off, wanting to solve one problem at a time today. 

Glancing between her two friends, Jo elected not to jump in at this time. Being caught in the crossfire alone was scary, but if she took one of their sides right now, that would only end in a bigger friendship blowout. 

Without waiting for a reply, Roxy trailed after Katie, not bothering to see if either of them would join her while she pulled out her phone to text the other girls at the Palm Woods for backup. She had already experienced enough anxiety for the day, she didn’t need Camille making it any worse.

Just as they reached Katie at the front desk, the assistant noticed Kendall, James and someone in a bear costume enter the front doors. The three were commenting on each other's items - Kendall, a pillow and a bottle of honey, James, 6 cartons of eggs and 24 rolls of toilet paper, and again, the bear, voice sounding very much like Carlos’. 

“What’s this about girls not being good at pranks?” The girls new to the game chorused in sync, not even planning such a powerful opening line. 

It certainly caught the boys off guard, stopping them in their tracks. 

“Never said that!” Kendall fought back, tone slightly cautionary. “I just said it could get ugly and girls could get hurt.”

“So you’re saying girls aren’t as tough as guys?” Three new voices asked - The Jennifers inserting themselves into their conversation. 

I love that they’re always on their phones…

“Kendall, you’ve hit me over the head with a metal horseshoe. I fell down a well and had a concussion for three weeks.” His assistant fought right back, feeling the presence of the Jennifers boost her confidence as the girl’s numbers grew. 

While she spoke, James gave her a sorrowful smile, waiting for her to finish before asking, “Babe, have you seen the bear standing next to me? This competition gets scary.”

Roaring the most obviously fake roar any person in a bear suit had ever managed, Carlos attempted to frighten the girls in front of him to no avail. 

“Sounds to me like you guys are scared of getting your butts beat by a bunch of girls,” Camille bit, taunting their opponents just a bit. 

They were already playing the game, the boys just didn’t know it yet. 

With a snap of her fingers, Camille summoned the rest of the girls in their class to her side, proving the power of strength in numbers. 

Thank goodness I had everyone's numbers saved from sending out the dance invite.

That move certainly intimidated the boys, causing Carlos to tear off the bear's head and cry, “What? Eleven against four? Yeah, that’s fair.”

“We’re in!”

An unexpected amount of other male individuals from their class had now joined the conversation as well, which, to the best of Roxy’s knowledge was unplanned. It looked like this was turning from a prank battle into an all-out prank war. 

Quickly, James counted out all the newcomers who were planning to aid their cause, announcing they were still one short.

And of course, at just the right time, Jett Stetson swooped in to save the day with a curt, “I’m in too.”

He and Kendall shared a look akin to the ones Roxy was sharing with Camille at the moment, but his presence made it a fair game, so the blond had no room to argue. 

“So be it!” Kendall declared in a poor, but funny attempt at an old English accent, “As reigning Sir High King Lord of the Pranks, I now declare this a megapranketition!”

The opposite team had been so distracted in figuring out their numbers, that none of them noticed Katie duck away from Roxy’s side and tie three of the newcomer’s shoelaces together. 

The boys won’t even know what hit them…

***

Thirty minutes into the competition, Roxy hated to admit it, but her friends had been right, things were getting ugly.

Reportedly, Logan had already pranked himself before the game even began, but the girls weren’t sure if the band had been lying to them to keep them off their tails.

Then, all three of the Jennifers were taken out with “free chapstick samples” which turned out to be glue sticks with fake labels. This left an uneven playing field, so each of the sides needed to do everything they could in order to get ahead. 

Many attempts had been made, cans of silly string emptied, and plenty of balloons blown up just to be popped seconds later, but nothing seemed to be working for anyone. 

Katie, Camille, Jo, and Roxy had been laying low, leaving plenty of handcrafted glitter bombs and rubber snakes around the hotel without capturing any victims, until Guitar Dude hopped out of one of the planters in the lobby. He had wanted to scare them with a terrible song about pranks, but, in turn, Camille had smashed Guitar Dude’s guitar over his head thanks to a move she learned when trying out for the part of a rockstar’s girlfriend. 

Does a song even count as a prank?

Now, the girls were back on top, and Roxy still had so many Oreos with the filling scraped out and replaced with toothpaste to offer up to anyone passing by, she was starting to forget about all the anxiety from the morning. 

She only felt it spike again when Katie dragged them up to the second floor to show off something she had been working on in anticipation of this year’s day of pranks - A little thing she dubbed the Pie-A-Pult.

By itself, the large metal contraption was insane. The mess of silver poles, duct tape, and wheels was quite a sight, but once Jo and Katie placed the large pie crust filled with lemon meringue on the end, Roxy decided she was staying as far away from the machine as possible. It just felt like bad news; Nothing she needed to involve herself with this early in the game. 

Since it was so large, they were having trouble getting it from Katie’s room to the hallway, even with the four of them working together. 

As they pushed, Katie explained her master plan. 

Well, kind of. 

The four had caught onto Kendall, Carlos, and James following them around for some time now. So, really, the words they were saying were all a guise for their real trap: Emotional manipulation.

Katie had baited their trap, starting off with, “The guys get off the elevator to rush to the apartment for shelter, they’ll trip on the wire Jo set up and get a face-full of creamy defeat!”

Still holding some of the clear fishing line she had swiped from her dad, Jo held her hand out for a high five, which Katie eagerly returned. 

There was almost something poetic about two of the most important girls in Kendall’s life teaming up to take him and his friends out; Roxy was so ecstatic to be a part of it. 

Normally, when she played team games when she was younger like tag or soccer at recess, she was always so caught up in making sure she was doing the very best she could so her teammates wouldn’t think she was pulling them down. That contributed to the lack of fun she had, but now, she felt like she was on top of the world working with her best friends.

Maybe, when this is all over, it’s time I had that talk with Camille…

“Boys are stupid!” The actress giggled, adding a bit of emphasis on that last part to rile the three up even further. 

With a wicked smile, Roxy did her best not to look in the direction in which the girls knew they were sneaking up on them, “Now all we have to do is hide and watch the show.”

What the boys didn’t know, was that Camille had graciously volunteered to sacrifice herself for the good of her team. 

Predictably, they just knew the band would rely on scare tactics to take the girls out, considering they had preached over and over about not wanting anyone to get hurt. When they inevitably jumped out, Camille would pretend to trip the wire, get blasted with the delicious pie filling, then use her glorious acting skills to fake cry and lead the boys to the park where a massive girl ambush was waiting. 

Once Roxy had finished speaking, she paused to give the boys time to formulate their counter-plan and thought about how Camille had selflessly agreed to take one for the team. When her eyes flickered over to the actress, Camille winked, right as the four heard a chorus of “Boo!” from behind them.

Pretending to be startled, the girls let out some particularly ear-splitting fake screams, and Camille - Queen of acting cues - stumbled backward onto the line Jo had set. 

In a breathtaking arc of delicious, homemade perfection, the pie launched into her, resulting in a sticky, lemony mess mixing in with Camille’s hair, makeup, and clothes. 

For the boys, they deemed this to be a moment of celebration, for the girls, they faked shock and despair while waiting for the real prank to begin. 

Loud, obnoxious sobs mixed into the other team’s cheers, drawing out any chance they had to praise each other for a job well done before Camille took off running down the hall to lure the boys into the trap the other girls were setting up at the park. 

That, paired with two fake-upset girlfriends and one fake-upset little sister was enough to pull at James and Kendall’s heartstrings. 

Roxy did feel slightly bad for crossing her arms as she stared her boyfriend down, watching as his eyes widened in shock once he registered her feelings. But, she reminded herself, all is fair in love and war.

“We told you that pranking was dangerous!” Carlos told them, sensing the mood shift in the hallway and seemingly unaffected by the dirty looks from his friends in front of him. 

“Well, does your Lord Prankerton say you’re not allowed to make sure someone is okay?” Jo snapped back, tone of voice rising with each word out of her mouth. 

She is one hell of a convincing actress.

The three boys glanced at each other before James sighed, “No… He does. It’s called the Logan Amendment.”

“Time to put that to good use then, James,” Roxy warned, trying to copy Jo’s acting technique.

“Let’s go!” Kendall finished before Katie could cut in with her own comments, tossing an upset gesture toward the hallway Camille had run down. James and Carlos were simply at his mercy, following the frontman in the direction in which he was rushing. 

At that moment, however, Roxy had forgotten all the progress she had slowly been building back up with Camille that day. Despite her great plan for the victory of the girl’s team, Roxy still had to watch her boyfriend hurry down the hallway, concern gracing his handsome features, toward the girl he had kissed three weeks ago. 

Sure, they were friends and Roxy knew that, but did Camille need three people to go check up on her? Wouldn’t Carlos and Kendall do? 

Jealousy knotted her stomach at the thought of James and Camille being anywhere around each other right now - Especially because Camille and Roxy hadn’t spoken about the kiss at all. 

But, even that made Roxy feel terrible. She didn’t control James, and she certainly wasn’t going to dictate who he was allowed to hang around or talk to. Considering that exact same thing had happened to her in her last relationship, she knew what it was like to be on the opposite side of that kind of jealousy. 

The thought of being anything like Dak makes me feel sick…

“Roxy! Aren’t you coming?”

Jo’s voice snapped the writer out of her head, though the nauseous feeling creeping up her throat remained. 

It was hard to swallow the bitter bile back down with a smile, but the writer did her very best, “Yeah, of course, I’ll meet you at the park in a second.”

The two remaining girls nodded before running down the pie-soaked path Camille had made through the hotel to meet the rest of their team. 

But, even the sight of her friends dashing off in pursuit of prankdom glory didn’t inspire the writer to move an inch; She was too busy trying to tackle her nausea and the dark little voices in the back of her head telling her James was getting bored of her, just like Dak had. 

“No, no, no,” Roxy whispered, hoping that saying the words out loud might help combat the negative thoughts swirling around her brain. 

Slinging her black mini backpack off her back and setting it down in the middle of the hallway, the writer hastily sunk to her knees before digging through the contents of her bag. 

James ran after Camille because he’s a good, loyal, caring friend. That’s part of the reason I like him. 

She pushed past her wallet, keys, Rocque Records ID badge… Just how much stuff did she have in here?

He’s not bored of me, he just ran off from our picnic because he was excited about the competition.

At long last, her hands brushed the familiar, cool leather of her songbook and practically ripped it out of the pouch.

I will not let my unwarranted anxieties and jealousy get in the way of our relationship. 

While it was easier said than done, as Roxy flipped to the back page to read the message her boyfriend had written to her last night she finally found a little bit of peace. Eight little words. That was all she needed for now; proof everything was going to be just fine between them. 

Someone cleared their throat behind her and when the girl turned, she saw a sharp-dressed businessman paused in the middle of the path she was blocking, eyes wandering around the mess she had made of the hallway with the Pie-A-Pault. 

With a sheepish smile, Roxy shot back up to her feet, pulling her bag with her. “Be sure to watch your step… And maybe not mention this to Bitters if you don’t mind?”

The look he shot her told her that was quite a mighty request, yet the man said nothing and continued on his way. 

It didn’t take the writer much longer to scoop up the pie tin laying on the floor a few inches away from where it smacked Camille, careful not to get any of the meringue on herself in case anyone thought she was pranked as well, and shoot off toward the park. The remaining girls on their team were all hiding in different spots around the grassy area to ambush the boys after the actress’ fake crying led them right into the heart of their trap. Roxy was supposed to cover the north exit closest to the hotel; hopefully, she would arrive just in time to see Carlos, James, and Kendall’s defeat. 

When her legs traveled as fast as they possibly could, landing her directly in the spot her friends had asked her to stand, Roxy came upon a very different scene from what she had been imagining. 

By now, she figured at least one of the three of them would be out of the game, but Jo, Camille, and Katie had cornered the boys into the center of the park. All around them, their female classmates circled like hungry vultures, though remained a safe distance away in case the boys had any tricks left up their sleeves. 

Big Time Rush were pleading for their lives, steps away from getting on their hands and knees and begging the girls to spare them. That’s certainly a side of them I’ve never seen before.

“They look so cute when all hope is lost!” Jo mused, turning to her friends with a Knight-like smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

Though that was a slightly scary statement coming from the blonde, Roxy couldn’t help but agree. Victory was so close the girls could almost taste it. 

Her band helplessly huddled together, linking their arms to form an indestructible chain as they stood back to back, ensuring no one could be taken out from behind. That little move didn’t do them much good, however, considering their opponents had them surrounded on all sides. 

“Ready, aim…” Katie directed, handing the prank rule book off to Camille as she stared her brother down. The beat of silence hung in the air for a moment, it seemed as though all movement in the park had ceased, while everyone waited for her final command. 

A command that never came, as Gustavo Rocque came barreling into the open space to yell at three-fourths of Big Time Rush. Under one arm he had Kelly’s leather ledger tucked away, while the other was furiously trying away on her Blackberry. “Dawgs! I’m Kelly today - long story - So… Studio, now!”

Studio?

“Human shield!” The boys chorused upon seeing their boss. That was certainly a new turn none of the girls had been expecting. 

Katie’s final call of “Fire!” echoed throughout the park, just as the boys pulled Gustavo in front of them, turning him every which way as their producer took the full force of the lemon meringue pie barrage. 

While his screams were normally legendary, the small yelps and shrieks the producer let out with every hit from a brand-new pie almost made Roxy pity him. She certainly thought he deserved a fraction of this assault after the way he usually treated the boys, but it was jarring to watch as hit after hit after hit landed, leaving Gustavo’s top half completely covered in the yellow, whipped mess. 

I hate to think of what would happen if Kelly had shown up.

That thought was enough to make Roxy keep hold of her pie, and of course, the prospect of still having a job tomorrow morning if she didn’t throw something at her boss. 

Unfortunately for her and the rest of the girls, the producer-turned-human-shield had kept the boys perfectly safe. There wasn’t even a lick of cream covering any parts of their bodies as they shoved the man to the side once they were a safe distance away. With a few winks and waves, the boys wasted no time sprinting back to the Palm Woods to continue their hijinks, no doubt off to set a whole new wave of traps to look out for.

“We were so close!” Roxy cried, though she did attempt to place the pie tin behind her back so none of the other girls would notice she didn’t throw it. “How can we get them to congregate like that again?”

She had a few ideas to bring up to her classmates to try and get the boys out of the game once more, but she felt the tin be ripped from her hands by someone behind her.

“Roxy!” Camille shouted, alerting the writer to the danger of whoever stood behind her. “Run!”

In a flash, the girl took Camille’s advice, nearly twisting her ankle on the wet grass in the process. While it had helped her in a pinch, Roxy certainly wasn’t going to be able to outrun the pie she saw flying towards her when she checked over her shoulder. A splash of red hair filled her field of vision when she glanced upward, Tyler playing for the boys, letting out an evil laugh. 

Just as Roxy thought she was done for, she whipped her head back around to find Camille in front of her, “Move!”

Wordlessly, the actress reached both her hands out and grabbed Roxy’s arm before roughly yanking her to the right. Though, thanks to her unsteady balance, Roxy managed to stumble, sending her right into the grass below.

She felt everyone's eyes on her, much like getting an idea for the song in the studio and having the entire band watch her write, as the stinging feeling in the palms and knees she had used to break her fall subsided.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Roxy asked once she realized the pie hadn’t hit her at all, lifting her head to look at her assailant as she weakly pointed in his direction, “Get him!”

Everyone took off after the young boy, a few still toting extra pie trays around to use as their weapons, save the one girl who was no longer in the game. 

Slowly, Camille squatted down to help Roxy off the ground with shaking hands. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to pull that hard I swear!”

The panicked way in which she spoke rang in the writer’s ears. They were still on bad terms since she had kissed James, but Roxy certainly didn’t want Camille to be afraid to talk to her. Just the notion of someone she cared so much about fearing her… 

Shaking the thought out of her head, Roxy accepted the help with no push back even if it left her alone in the park with someone she had been trying to avoid for weeks. “Don’t worry about it. I know you were just trying to help.”

Once the girl was back up on her feet, with no sign of other pranksters in her line of vision, she faced her friend, watching as the slow breeze blew some loose curls over Camille’s shoulder. There was no question after the alarm in the actress’ voice, Camille had been hurting just as much as Roxy was - Something the girl had failed to consider altogether, too wrapped up in her own feelings. 

Eyes slightly glancing downward, Camille bit the inside of her cheek before asking, “Can we just-” but stopped in the middle of her statement to shake her head. “Never mind.”

There was a beat of silence before Roxy cleared her throat, feeling her chest tighten before saying, “No, it’s alright. Go ahead.”

Around them, the park activities had gone back to normal. Couples on walks, kids flying kites, moms gossiping under the shade from the large trees… All was as it should be, except for the two girls struggling to find the right words to even speak with each other after their first real fight as friends. 

Camille’s brows shot to her forehead like she hadn’t expected Roxy to give her the time of day, but the writer kept her mouth shut, needing to hear just what the other girl wanted to say to her.

“There aren’t even words to begin to tell you how sorry I am for what happened,” Camille settled on, though Roxy found it tough to concentrate on her words with her friend’s top half completely covered in pie. 

The day Camille had kissed James, Roxy had felt a pain secondary only to her first heartbreak. However, she had masked it quite well, focusing on confronting Camille on what she had done to Logan and not how it had damaged their own friendship. 

“I’ve played hundreds of different characters, memorized their lines from hundreds of different situations but nothing I can come up with is remotely close to the apology you deserve.”

It had taken James and Logan hours to make up after the entire ordeal, which was crazy to Roxy, but their bond was nearly unbreakable. She felt the same about her bond with Camille but had been far too stubborn in admitting her feelings to herself; They had let this fight drag on for far too long. 

“I’ve lost Logan’s trust, his friendship…” Her voice broke as she brought the heel of her palm to her tearful eyes. “And, Roxy, I’m terrified of losing ours.”

The writer felt her bottom lip quiver. “Do you know how much it hurt to find out my best friend kissed the guy I had been into for months and didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face? You sent James instead!”

“Yeah, but Katie-”

“If it hadn’t been for Katie, I suspect you might not have told me at all, Camille.” Voicing feelings Roxy could barely admit to herself was beginning to feel cathartic and she made a mental note to take Katie out for ice cream later once the whole prank ordeal was finished. “I miss feeling like I could share anything with you and seeking you out first in a room full of people and texting you every single day, but that doesn’t change what happened.”

At her friend’s confession, Camille took a few steps forward and crushed Roxy in an unexpected hug. She was shaking, the writer could feel the tremors throughout her body, but Roxy instinctually wrapped her arms around Camille’s waist anyway, lemon meringue be damned. Even if her words had been harsh and they were the truth about how she had been feeling, that didn’t warrant Camille to be in such pain either. 

“I’ve been a terrible friend, Rox, you don’t deserve that,” She whispered into Roxy’s shoulder, continuing to hold her. 

Since her emotions had been flowing freely through her words, it was no surprise to the assistant when she muttered, “I don’t… But you don’t deserve a terrible friend either. I’m sorry I didn’t come to check on you after your breakup. We should have gone through that together.”

 To Roxy’s surprise, Camille stopped shaking for a moment, then laughed her beautiful laugh right into the girl’s ear. “I’m trying to apologize to you, don’t turn the table!”

“But it’s true,” Roxy defended, feeling a bit of the actress’ contagious smile creep onto her face. “I’ve spent too much time mulling over and hiding my own emotions, I neglected to think about yours.”

“So where does that leave us?”

Camille’s question was earnest, raw, and almost pleading, pulling her cheek off her friend’s shoulder as she anxiously awaited her response. 

Taking a deep breath, the writer basked in the citrusy scent of the filling now staining her top. “Hopefully ready to put this all behind us, as long as we promise to always stay honest with each other going forward.”

It didn’t take long for Camille to raise her right hand, sticking her pinky out toward her best friend. “Promise!”

After Roxy locked their fingers together, it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from off her chest. Camille was integral to her journey in Los Angeles, and the only thing more painful than the mess they had been through was the absence of her best friend in her daily life. 

“Are you free tonight?” Roxy asked, excitedly bouncing up and down on her heels now that they had talked through their issues. “I have so much to tell you.”

“Eee!” Her friend squealed back, breaking their hug only to grab Roxy’s hand and lead her back toward the Palm Woods. “Finally! I’ve been dying to catch up. Let me check with my dad and see if you and Jo can sleep over tonight. I’m thinking pizza, PopTiger poster clipping, and I just got my hands on the new Tuesday the 17th.”

“The one starring Jacksen Paradeki? Oh, my God, Camille, I’m so in love with him-”

Shhhhh!

Roxy stopped dead in her tracks, smile fading from her lips as a cold, slimy substance connected with the meringue covering the front of her chest, mixing with the already uncomfortable fabric of her shirt. 

In front of the two girls stood Katie Knight, bandana strapped over her little forehead and thick streaks of eye-black staining her cheeks, wielding two aerosol cans full of neon silly string. 

“What was that for?!!” The writer questioned, looking over her shoulder to see if Kendall, James, or Carlos was sneaking up on her and Katie had misfired. “I’m out! How are we supposed to get the guys now?”

As she tried to wipe the sticky mixture off of her clothing, Roxy slowly realized: Katie doesn’t make mistakes.

Flipping one of the cans and blowing on the nozzle as if she were in an old Western movie, Katie tucked them into her back pockets, offering nothing beyond, “You forget this isn’t a team game... I will be Lord High King of the Pranks!” before running off to destroy her next target. 

“Jo!” Camille cried, remembering the other part of their trio as she watched the young girl scurry off, before grabbing her phone. “We left her all alone with that little traitor…”

Buzz buzz

The pair shared a look of dismay at the text tones on both of their devices going off at once. 

J: Sandy, Mandy, Aino, and Priya are out. 

J: That leaves Roxy, Katie, and me now.

C: might want to think again

R: I’m out too

R: WATCH OUT FOR KATIE!!!!

C: she betrayed us!

While there were no messages from Jo for quite some time after, it did allow Roxy and Camille enough of a break to head up to their apartments and rid themselves of prank remnants. 

Just as Roxy was throwing her possibly ruined clothes in the wash, her phone went off again and she jumped at the opportunity to read the quickly incoming messages.

J: I’m out! UGH!!

C: katie get you too? or one of the boys?

R: That girl can be so nasty.

R: I respect the dedication tho

J: NO! By BITTERS!

R: My bad. Got some dude in the hotel involved with one of our pranks accidentally

R: Snitch

J: Buttt, Carlos and James are out too. It’s just Kendall, Katie, and Bitters left. 

R: Sooo unfair! I didn’t know Bitters was playing. 

R: But that might have been good for him, I had some nasty stuff planned

C: like what lol? 

R: Secret. Might need to use them next year ;P

J: You two might want to head down to the lobby… I think the final showdown is gonna happen there

J: Also, Roxy, James is looking for you. Looks like he needs some cheering up

C: awww, too cute

R: Thanks! Be down asap

Just the prospect of seeing her boyfriend after about an hour apart thrilled her, as silly as that was. After all the drama and emotions swirling around inside her mind today, all she wanted was a great big hug and some comforting words from James. 

She practically bounced down the stairs, feeling much better after untangling the pie filling and silly string from her hair and changing into a new outfit, to find most of her friends gathered around the Palm Woods lobby waiting for the competition to be over. It appeared that most of the folks who had gotten out early on were gathered in the back of the lobby though Jett, Tyler, and Guitar Dude filled some of the spots up front. From the girl’s side, the Jennifers and Camille were huddled together, whispering about something she couldn’t hear. Beside them were Carlos and James, covered head to toe in silly string, suggesting they had succumbed to the same fate as their assistant at the hands of the cunning Katie Knight. 

Attempting to pick some of the sticky pink and yellow string out of his clothing, James had his eyes cast toward the floor. The slight pout on his lips almost made him look just like a fashion model and a faint bit of electricity buzzed down Roxy’s back as she walked over to him. 

Without saying anything, she simply helped him brush all of the string to the floor - Bitters could worry about that later if he wanted to be a surprise player - before settling down in his lap.

All the other seats are taken… Where else would I sit? She thought, ignoring the way Camille glanced her way and waggled her eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry about the crown,” She told him, draping one of her arms around his shoulders. “But now you’ve got a whole year to plan your revenge!”

It was hard for her to bite back a smile as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer. 

Slowly, he pressed his lips to her cheek and his gloomy disposition disappeared entirely. “It’s alright… Mostly. I’m just glad we’re back on the same side again.” 

Lowering her voice, Roxy leaned into his chest, “Let’s team up for the next one then. Your superior pranking knowledge plus my…” 

“Toothpaste Oreos?” Her boyfriend joked, bouncing his knee a little bit to pull a laugh out of her. “Glitter bombs?”

“Exactly!” 

As James opened his mouth to respond, Kendall came barreling into the lobby from the pool, finding all of his friends visibly pranked and ready for the competition to come to an end.

He carried two colorful water guns, and judging by the smell emanating from them they were full of something positively nasty. The entire air of the lobby changed as he counted everyone in the room, realizing a few people were still missing. “Who got you?” 

Though his question was directed at Carlos and James, Roxy couldn’t help but join as they chorused, “Who do you think?” 

Little footsteps hitting the hotel carpet alerted everyone to a newcomer on the opposite side of the room, and immediately, Kendall got his answer. There appeared Katie, silver and black seltzer spray bottle in her hands, ready to fire on her own family at a moment's notice. 

“Still think I can’t handle ye day of pranks, big brother?” She questioned, curling her fingers down on the trigger. 

At the sight, Kendall lowered his spray guns, once again donning his terrible old English accent and casually sauntering toward her. “Lord Prankerton would be very proud of you, baby sister,” he drew his weapons once more, “but this battle’s not over!”

“Yes, it is!” Someone cut in from behind the front desk, Bitters popping up into view. This caused a bit of a stir from the teens, considering he hadn’t made it clear he had been playing from the very start. 

There’s gotta be a rule in the book against this… 

When the murmuring died down, the man continued, “Because if either of you make another mess, I will pull off the ultimate prank: I’ll close the pool for two weeks!”

“Ugh, what a tool,” Roxy found herself whispering to James, causing a snicker to escape his lips. Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by the hotel manager’s unnecessarily loud evil laugh echoing through the room.

It didn’t take long for the Knight siblings to come up with a solution, however, as the two of them locked eyes with a subtle nod. Bitters was too occupied in executing his evil plan, he didn’t see the two of them look toward their friends, to make sure everyone was on the same page. 

Simple enough, Roxy figured, nodding toward the frontman. Even if he punishes us, seeing Bitters get pranked will be so worth it. 

Kendall and Katie thought so too, opening fire on the unsuspecting man and drenching both him and the front desk in the rotten substance and seltzer combination. That was enough to drive anyone mad, especially the irate manager, who quickly recanted his threat and ran off into the backroom to hide from the Knight’s relentless assault. 

All the cheering coming from the lobby couldn’t have helped Bitters feel better either, but it was a more than satisfying conclusion for all of the other players. Lord Prankerton would have been proud to see it. 

Taking a few moments, the cheering eventually died down as the smell of rotting dairy filled everyone's noses. 

Disgusting. Roxy thought, though it was easy for her to burrow into James’ neck and take in the sweet spice lime of his cologne. 

From there, it was easy for the group to come to a consensus and choose their winner - The siblings who had saved the day of pranks. 

***

Kendall and Katie had chosen a Star Wars theme for their coronation ceremony by the pool, which, as James explained to Roxy, was the right of the competition’s victor. 

Sweet enough to play along after finally managing to scrub all the jelly out of her favorite orange top was Jo, who was happy to wrap her hair up like Princess Leia and place the original handmade crown on her boyfriend’s head. 

In the time it took to prepare for the ceremony, Logan and Carlos had been hard at work making a second, identical crown, which the makeshift princess also presented to Katie while a fanfare of medieval horns played from the band’s boombox. 

Did both of them mean to dress like Han Solo?

Both Knights brought a finger under their nose as Lord Prankerton’s salute, before walking down the path lined with their friends and other competitors they had beaten as cheers and applause filled the open space. 

To her left, she heard James and Logan solemnly swear, “We’ll get him next year,” only able to imagine what the future would hold for her and the band. 

Originally, they had planned a big poolside party to celebrate, but Bitters had stayed true to his threat to shut the area down for a few weeks - Not that any of them minded. 

Once the ceremony came to a close, James threaded his fingers through Roxy’s, guiding them back into the hotel and away from all the noise of the silly string fight breaking out. 

“I told Katie not to hand out her extra cans…” Roxy mused, swinging their arms back and forth as they walked, “And I’m certainly not helping her get that gunk out of her hair! It took me forever after her attack.”

Opening the door to the stairwell for his girlfriend, James smiled at her comment before asking, “Are you free tonight? I feel sort of bad for ruining our picnic earlier.”

Pausing, that comment almost shortwired Roxy’s brain. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, James. I ruined our date last night, so we can call it even.”

She tried to brush off her statement with a dry giggle, pulling on his hand to bring him to the second floor before realizing she hadn’t actually answered his question. 

“But, no, actually I’m booked! Camille and I finally made up, so we’re going to have a sleepover tonight.” Roxy tugged on his arm again, though now, it was to check the time on James’ brown watch. “I’ve still got some time though, so let’s go back to mine. We’ve got a phone call to make!”

Heading their way down the hallway their apartment’s shared, James squeezed Roxy’s hand a bit tighter, “We?”

“Yup! Even if you lost the prank competition today, I think you’ve won a phone call to my dad to tell him that we’re dating.”

His next words came out a stutter as Roxy fished her keys out of her bag to unlock her apartment door, “I-I’ve never…”

Cocking her head, she guided him inside and flipped the lights on as she waited for him to finish his statement. 

“I’ve never had to tell anyone’s parents I was their kid’s boyfriend before…” Not even concerned by the prospect of having to tell Declan Somerset he was dating his daughter, James fell back onto the couch, a goofy grin splashing across his features. “You really want me to tell him? Like, really, for real?”

“Yes, like, really for real!” Roxy echoed, flopping onto the cushion beside him and unable to stop herself before saying, “Because we’re really for real… Right?”

Since she had taken care of her fight with Camille, it was finally time to put some of her insecurities about her relationship from earlier to rest. All her cards were on the table, now it was up to James to see how he was willing to play them. 

And he wasted no time leaning over to give his girlfriend a series of kisses before breathing out, “Of course we are, Roxy.”

All Roxy could manage was a shy, “O-okay. Good. Just checking,” before pulling her phone out of her pocket. Though she and her dad called every few days, it was usually in the mornings when they were both getting ready for work. Hopefully, there wasn’t a football game tonight and he wouldn’t be concerned if she sent him a FaceTalk request so late in the evening. “Ready?” 

“That depends.” James cooly replied, running a hand through his long hair. “On a scale from 1-10, how likely is it that your dad might fly out here and kill me for dating his one and only daughter?”

#thats all she wrote fic #big time rush #btr #james diamond #james maslow #kendall knight #kendall schmidt #logan mitchell #logan henderson #carlos garcia #carlos penavega

[bomberqueen17]

turkey delirium

hokay 

so the turkeys the farm raises are all 1) processed, on saturday, which went smoothly, and was fairly exhausting but nothing we haven’t done before, lovely 2) packaged, which went.... well it was going sort of smoothly, none of us could remember how it quite works, rocky start because while Farmsister is the one who knows how it works best, she was off getting the vegetables set up because VegMan could not miss a week of church services to be present for the busiest day of the year but he said he’d be back by 11:30 which would be great because vegetable-only pickup was going from 11-1 and then 1-3 was turkeys for people with vegetable shares and we *had* to have the turkey package-and-sort done by then so if he’d be able to cover most of that it’d really super help. But he didn’t get back from church until after 1, as it happened, so that sucked and we had to just be short-staffed. Anyway, we were making reasonable progress and then I went to get more bags and the box had one more sleeve of 100 in it. And I didn’t know how many we’d already done but I knew our total number was around 180. So that precipitated a crisis of where to get more turkey bags, underscored by both Farmsister and BIL being absolutely positive they’d counted and determined there were enough bags for this year so how could they have been caught short like this??? 3) sold. We did get everything packaged-- some turkeys just had to go into kitchen garbage bags, clean ones, and not one customer batted an eye so that was good. The problem was that BIL ran in to do the sorting-- people are matched with their size preference of turkey in order of precedence of when they placed their order, so it’s really critical to know the weight of each final packaged turkey-- and when he did the sorting he worked into the wrong spreadsheet and so it was only the people who’d used the online order form and so a solid dozen customers who’d mailed in an order form or called on the phone or emailed separately were not included, and that customer base was most of the oldest and most loyal customers. So that was a fucking crisis. Also he printed out the spreadsheet and gave it to me to use as the customers came up to the table, and the sheet he gave me was not alphabetized, was not in order of when they placed the order, was not in order of size of the turkey even-- it was arranged by NO criteria at all, it was completely randomized, I didn’t even know you could do that with a spreadsheet. And it was four pages long. And the first customer, who showed up fifteen minutes early to stand there, elderly and tottering, shivering in the fucking 20 degree gale-force winds, was not on the list; she’s on the edge of dementia and literally never actually places her order but is always convinced she did. (She’s vaguely aware that she’s not quite getting things right, but that doesn’t change that she’s been buying things here for years and expects to buy things here and yet consistently forgets to actually make her arrangements.) (We had to have her come inside and sit down while we worked out what turkey we could give her.)

The other thing is that the spreadsheet is supposed to tell me whether the customers paid the deposit on the turkey or not. They’re supposed to pay a $20 deposit. Sometimes they forget, sometimes they’re sure they did but they did not, and sometimes, fucking obnoxiously, they pay a deposit of a different amount of money, which we then have to know about somehow. One of them I was like “why the heck did you pay a $39 deposit” and she was like “oh that was the money i had, it was easier for me” and i’m like “cool do you see how confusing that is though” and she went off on her way and I know next year she’s gonna put down a like, $43 deposit or something, why the fuck. Anyway, usually that’s on the spreadsheet-- and in fact it was, on the sheet he was supposed to use, but anyway. It was gale-force winds and 20 degrees and the turkey juices that leaked onto the table froze instantly into sheets of ice and the THREE DIFFERENT COPIES of the spreadsheet we had printed out (one that included almost all the customers, one that actually included all the turkeys but wasn’t in any order of any kind, and one that said whether the customers had paid a deposit and if so how much) all kept blowing away and had to repeatedly be chased down.

But we sold all the turkeys we were supposed to sell, by and large, and now that huge stressor is gone and done and packaged up and the checks are going to the bank today and that’s like. $20k.

Today I get to clean and re-set the slaughterhouse so tomorrow we can process 115 more turkeys, 90 for one farmer and 25 for another.

I think I have Wednesday off though.

As an aside, it’s 18F out, and I did finish insulating my cabin but we didn’t get the heater installed so instead I have a little propane heater that clips onto a 20-lb propane tank and has no thermostat, so i’m struggling to get it up above 45 so I can get dressed, as I type this. I think I gotta just give up and get dressed now, lol, and also, brr.

#about the author #farm life

[rouge-wolf]

A Forgotten Friend From Cordona Sherlock x Fem Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Island of Cordona, 1880 

6:00

Another day on the beautiful island of Cordona has begun. Its residents scattered about setting up their booths, cleaning their shops, getting their horses ready to transport an unknown number of people, or just waking up. The latter of this list is where (y/n) fits in. Softly the sun's rays crawled through the gap in the curtains and lay atop her face causing her eyes to flutter open. Sighing, she glared up at the ceiling as she did every morning. (Y/n) does not remember when she started looking at her ceiling with hatred, a partial lie. The exact date is unknown to her; assumed to be the day her life in Grand Saray turned a horrible shade of grey. Finally, she rose from her comfy bed nest and prepared for the day. Donning a plain dress, she left her room and headed down the hall to the stairs, sliding down the railing and heading to the kitchen to grab a light breakfast. After devouring her toast and an apple, she headed to help Mrs. Nini at her shop in Scaladio. 

"I wonder who will come to the shop today; hopefully, no one unseemly." (Y/n) shuddered at the mere thought. As she made her way through the winding streets of Grand Saray, she saw a group of children running past excitedly, shouting about their planned adventure for the day. Smiling to herself, she reminisced about when she was their age and doing the same with her friends. They were like three musketeers or perhaps three pirate-actor detectives. Chuckling, she shook her head and saw she was almost to Mrs. Nini's Altier shop. Slowly opening the door, she chimed, "Good morning Mrs. Nini!"

"Oh! (Y/n) is that you, dear?" Mrs. Nini called from the backroom. 

"Yes, it is me." She replied with a giggle.

"Well, good morning dear, are you ready for today?" She asked the young lady as she made her way to the counter. 

"As ready as I can be." (Y/n) stated and went to grab a broom to sweep before the store opened at 7:00. It is good that she arrived at 6:45, giving her ample time to clean and straighten up a few other things. 

_____________________________________________________________

Just Offshore of Cordona 

6:30 pm

On the boat, there were many tourists. One of these tourists was having a rough time, however. The poor man's friend did little to help his predicament. Groaning with an arm thrown across his face, Sherlock could not wait to be on solid ground again. 

"Ginger. That's what you need. A mouthful of the good stuff, and you'll see the back of any seasickness."

"Thank you for your support, Jon. I don't suppose you actually brought any ginger?"

"No. I don't get seasick." Jon replied straight away.

Exasperation was evident in Sherlock's voice as he bit out a "Terrific." 

"Don't worry, Sherry - we've almost arrived at Cordona. I can see land through the port hole." 

"So much for docking at tea time. The captain seemed more interested in his maids than in his maps." Sherlock leaned on his arm to support himself as he criticized the captain. Jon rested a hand against the bunk, "Aww, is Sherlock grumpy? Cheer up - we're back where we grew up! It's exciting! What's changed? What's the same?" Sherlock finally got off the bed with a slight groan. "I am starting to question whether the weeks-long journey was worth it.' Standing up fully now, 'Traveling all this way, enduring this indignity, simply to visit a grave? Even if it is my mother's." Sherlock was bent over the sink next to the bed as Jon leaned against the wall. 

"That's just Mycroft's nonsense still rattling around in your head. Try to forget what he said - I have!" 

Sherlock turned the sink on and splashed the cool water onto his face.

"I believe it was that this is 'a preformative farce', a 'feeble excuse to avoid responsibilities' and that there was 'nothing to be gained' from it." 

"You needed to do this. Enough of the self-pity and doubt. So we're a little late - what of it? We'll retire to the hotel and visit her in the morning. It will be worth the wait."

"Thank you, Jon."

"And if you want to notify the captain's wife of his indiscretions, I will not stand in your way." Jon mused. Sherlock turned and put his notebook in his bag, and just as he did, the boat's horn sounded. "At last! I'm quite ready to get off this cursed boat." Relief evident in his voice, he grabbed his bag. 

"Come on. We'll go together." Jon assured with a hand on Sherry's shoulder. They swiftly disembarked the boat and made their way to the hotel. Jon impatiently waits for Sherlock. "Hey, Sherry! Come on, catch up!" Like a parent, Sherlock released a "Yes, yes." and made his way to Jon and the hotel's entrance. Yet he ended up sidetracked as he deduced the patrons standing in the small garden at the front of the hotel. "Sherlock! Don't get lost in this huuuge garden. Follow the sound of my voice." Sherlock rolled his eyes at Jon and finished his look around before finally making his way to the entrance. "Welcome to 'Il Palazzo del Lusso,' sir." the doorman greeted. 

_____________________________________________________________

Mrs. Nini's Altier: Scaladio, Cordona 

7:00 pm

'Today was a slow day. Not to say it was a bad day, but it was quite boring.' (Y/n) thought as she put the final bundles of fabric back in their proper spots. "(Y/n), dear, you can head home now; I can finish everything else." Mrs. Nini said sweetly. 

"Are you positive?" I questioned the sweet old lady.

"Yes, I am quite positive. Go! Go! Maybe you will run into a nice man on your walk back." Mrs. Nini all but pushed me out the door before I could utter a word in response. I heard the door slam and sighed. "For an old lady sure seems to love gossip and to attempt to fix my nonexistent love life," I mumbled. I took a moment to breathe in the fresh night air before heading back to my home. 

_____________________________________________________________

Il Palazzo del Lusso: Grand Saray, Cordona

7:35 pm

Opening the front door, the clerk at the front desk greeted him. "Welcome to Il Palazzo del Lusso, sir. We just need your signature." Sherlock glanced around the lobby seeing a maid scrubbing the floor by the door to the left multiple luggage carts with a few workers and patrons spread about, and a staircase leading upwards to the right, a doorway leading to the bar area. He reached the front desk. "Would you kindly sign these papers, sir?" As Sherlock went to sign, Jon casually leaned against the end of the desk. Not an oddity for one to do, but Jon seemed to appear out of nowhere. Sherlock looked over at Jon before signing his name. 

"Come on, finish up the formalities so we can get off our feet," Jon whined. Finally, he signed the book. 

"Ah... Mr. Holmes! Yes, we have room 221 prepared for you. I see it was reserved for two people. Would you like a second key?"

Glancing at Jon, Sherlock replied, "Oh, uh, no... I think we'll stick together."

"Very good. Rooms are upstairs, sir. Welcome to Cordona."

"More like welcome back to Cordona." Jon quipped. The man didn't seem to hear him or just outright ignored him. Jon didn't let that dishearten him and instead went right back to pestering Sherry. "Hurry up, Sherlock; I want to see our room. I hope there is a balcony with a view!" Not wanting to make Jon wait any longer, he headed up the stairs searching for room 221. While walking down the hallway, a letter left abandoned on a table caught his eye. Being Sherlock, he could not just leave it unread.

A LETTER LOST IN THE HOTEL 

Dear James!

I read your 'Treatise on the Binomial Theorem' with great interest, and although some parts of it still remain unclear for me. I must say that you have done an impressive amount of research! I strongly recommend you publish as soon as possible, for I anticipate a great and wide practical usage of your method as soon as it becomes known.

Sincerely yours,

Prof. Gilbert.

___________

'While Binomial Theorem is indeed intriguing, that was rather disappointing.' Sherlock thought and continued on. He made his way to the balcony area above the bar, a grand staircase in the center of the room that allowed one to go to the bar or rooms on both the right and left sides of the hotel, walking to the other side of the staircase he finally found their room tucked in away at the end of the hallway. However, the relief at locating their room diminished as the accommodating and affable Turkish servant told them it was not yet ready. The servant gave a way to pass the time by relaxing in the foyer and grabbing a complimentary marlin ceviche from the restaurant. Jon excited, "Let's check what they have on offer!" Both made their way to the grand staircase and down to the foyer. Jon went to grab a table for them as Sherlock went to grab the food.

_____________________________________________________________

In Front of the Chronicle: Scaladio, Cordona

7:10 pm 

I'm glad it isn't that cold out so I can enjoy a leisurely walk back home. My Father would absolutely lose his mind saying how "a young lady shouldn't be walking by herself at night," but it isn't even that late. My eyes still get misty when I think of him. It's been a few years since he's passed, but it doesn't make those few moments of true remembrance hurt any less. I like to think I'm doing well. I grieved and mourned his passing but did not let that stop me from living. "Oh, how did I end up in front of the Chronicle? I guess my feet decide to separate from my brain. Now I must really get home. I have much to do!" I must stop talking aloud to myself; someone may think I am sick. I shudder at the thought of what possibilities that could bring. Resuming my walk home, I did not let my thoughts wander lest I get stuck in some random scuffle.

_____________________________________________________________ So, I am lowkey obsessed with this version of sherlock and could not find any x readers about him except for one. I want to remedy that hopefully... I am used to writing on Wattpad, so hopefully I haven't butchered the formatting too much on here.

Chapter Two

#frogwares holmes #frogwares sherlock #frogwaressherlockxreader #x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #frogwaressherlockholmes #fanfic #sherlock #sherlock x y/n #sherlock fanfic #frogwares sherlock x y/n