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alltheirdamn · 30 days

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.

You’d never love again.

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.

“What was that?” Maria chirped.

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”

Was he… flirting with you?

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.

“What other flavors do you like?”

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.

“This is me,” you sniffled.

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

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bluetooththereptile · 5 months

Text

Black Robin

(Yandere Tim drake x twin brother reader x yandere Bruce Wayne)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: I couldn't resist making this, Tim's personality and also Bruce's possessiveness to his adoptive children and sometimes his cold indifference are ripe for making agnst and a good fic!

Summary: Your stubbornness ends tonight, and Bruce will make sure of that.

Tw: mentions of abuse

"Are you out of your mind?!" you were taken aback by Tim's shout, your eyes widening behind your mask slightly. The always composed and nervous Tim was now yelling at you, well, this was new. You shifted on your feet in the dark place, sighing as you crossed your arms on your chest, trying to not groan since the bruise on your chest hurt to the touch. "Please just spare these words" you grunted, but your response only made Tim more livid, and he took a hold of your jacket, pulling you closer to him "You will come home with me!" He hissed "And that's final!"

You pushed Tim away with a scoff "Woha...easy right there bro, slow down, I'm not coming back, not after finally finding the place I deserve!" Tim couldn't help but let out a forced bitter chuckle "Deserve? Look at you! You're all bruised and battered, wearing a cheap leather jacket and military pants, and your only gadget is probably comms, you are dragging yourself around without proper care and you call it a deserving place?! Is your hatred for me that strong?"

You rolled your eyes, groaning, dear God how many of these conversations you've had already with him? Probably close to a thousand times. "Look, bro, I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions-" "Don't bro me!" Tim's voice echoed in the dark empty alleyway, after the joint mission of Batman and Midnighter, Tim finally after a whole year of not facing you had dragged you away so you could talk.

"I could understand your frustration and anger, I could have tried to make things right, I knew you were by the fact that you were not chosen as the Robin, I can understand that you didn't get enough attention and you wanted to be a hero yourself, but you couldn't leave just like that!" Pushing Tim away from you, you finally snapped "Wait a damn minute!" You took your mask off so you could talk to him properly. Approaching him you looked deep into his eyes, looking at your reflection in them and Tim winced a little at the hint of smoke on your lips, his brows furrowing as he realized what you had been smoking before the mission. You then sighed and looked away, looking down at the puddle of water on the ground. Damn, you were indeed bruised up, you were still a rookie and the hero responsible for you, Midnighter truthfully didn't have many rules for you to follow, just do the things and get them done by any means necessary, I don't care, which meant you had to do everything yourself, ending up as an official mess. In the past year, you had strained yourself so much that you couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

Sure you were Tim's identical twin, you looked nearly the same, minus the eyes of course, but you had changed from that, your body had bulked up under the pressure of constant training under Midnighter's eyes and the diet of protein bars, you didn't have time to eat so you had to resort to those, you had forgotten the taste of normal food, yet you refused to complain. The only reason that Midnighter had taken you in was your stubbornness and willpower, no one wanted to take Batman's boy in when the old bat didn't like the idea of it, you had to prove him you were worth taking in. You had to cut your hair short to cut out the water bills, oh right, he didn't pay for you either, you had to work your ass off to make some money for yourself, you just hated working at fast food joints, sometimes you wanted to serve some Karens some of those knuckle sandwiches Midnighter gave you when you messed up. Around your eyes were still smudged with the smoky eye makeup your new friends had put on you for last night's concert, personal hygiene was sort of out of the window for you, but you still kept pushing. You were a mess, but still an independent mess out of Tim's shadow.

"I chose this path and I'm happy with it! It's none of your business anymore!" You finally spoke, "Oh so all of a sudden when you are 18 you can do whatever the hell you want?" Tim sighed as he crossed his arms "Yeah?" You answered, "We both know Bruce had only let you go just to make you realize your place is with the family!" Tim's response wasn't that farfetched, you knew Bruce was capable enough to drag your sulking ass back to the Manor but he had chosen not to, why? You weren't sure, perhaps it was because he wanted to punish you for being too rebellious, the thought made you shudder.

"Whatever..." you waved your hand in the air "You know that I don't want to go back from this path" Tim scoffed "Oh? Being the "Black Robin" is that good?" He teased you about your name, making you let out a soft groan in irritation. Midnighter was mistaken as Batman and now you, as his sidekick, was the black Robin, another mistaken identity, well you did look like Tim, just larger in muscle mass. "Yes, it's better than being compared to you all the time!" You snapped at your twin, making his lips turn into a frown. You had hit a nerve, well it was progress.

"You were always the one that was better, you were the Robin and then the Red Robin, while I had to train harder and harder, watching you get all the attention while I was just there!" You continued "You know it's not true, Bruce adopted you as well, you are still his son! You were not chosen as Robin because he wanted someone more...smart..." You rolled your eyes at that, you had heard all of those excuses so many times, you wanted something more out of your life, and you had decided to get something out of it one way or another.

When Tim was adopted you had dragged along him, but since Bruce needed help, he examined you both but he found Tim more fitting for the role. At first, you were happy for your brother, but as time progressed on, that feeling turned into resentment, Tim was the nervous smart brother, always getting the attention of others, especially Bruce, while you pushed yourself to your limits, yet since you were more capable than your brother, Bruce thought of you more of a pillar of trust for Tim while he wasn't there, but you wanted more, you wanted his attention, his fucking love, you wanted to feel like a true son, so if he didn't want to pay you attention, you'd rebel, and you did it on your 18th birthday, and your life had become a hellish arena after that, but you still kept pushing, unknowingly digging your own grave.

Your bickering with Tim was interrupted by a loud bang, and before you could react Midnighter had been thrown over two buildings, his landing making a hole into the wall close to you and your twin. Who... who had done that?! Who could do that to the superhuman clad in black? Oh no...The soft thud onto the ground and that familiar presence...oh no no no no...it was the big bat himself.

"Shit," you and Tim said in union "language" Bruce's stern voice made you clamp your lips close, you hadn't seen him like that before, his gaze burying deep into your wide eyes as he approached you with that imposing figure. "Black Robin" your hero's name rolled onto his tongue with a dark tone. "How fitting" he continued before he suddenly reached out and grabbed you by your jaws, making your mouth open.

You were too afraid to talk, you knew he wouldn't listen even if you wanted to talk "Three teeth..." Bruce hummed, before tightening his grip, making you let out a soft groan of pain "Cracked jaw..." he added "Muscle tissue of your left eyelid is hurt, your ear is broken and this is just for the head..." he hissed "I had warned him before to not touch any of my boys..." he let go of you but his hand moved to take a hold of your jacket as he looked down at you.

"Malnourished and still high on drugs, what was he thinking?!" He growled before looking up at you again, he leaned closer as he took a sniff of you, his grip tightening even more "And you've been smoking...it's the same brand as he does..."

"B-bat-" "Silence..." Bruce snapped at you, "Being mistaken for me is one thing I can sort of tolerate, but stealing my boy from me is something I can not overlook...look at you Y/N!..." he pulled you closer to him "You are on the path of self-destruction! You are no superhuman, you are a young one in need of care!" Your throat dried up as he spoke, you knew the consequences of your actions were creeping to get closer to you.

Bruce's heart ached at your sight, he shouldn't have let you go, he had thought no one would take you in and within a month you'd be back into his arms, begging for forgiveness and he'd punish you lightly. You reminded him so much of himself, that was why he didn't want you to get into the world of heroes, yet his worst nightmare had happened and you had plunged into the worst scenario head first like a mad bull.

"You're coming home with us" Bruce's words were final as he took you in "H-hey!" You wanted to pull away but his hold was too strong, he didn't bat an eye at your struggles "You need stitches and a new set of teeth, and when you are ready enough, I'll whip you into the right shape of the Black Robin..." his last words made your shudder in fear, he was angry, but deep down, a small part of you was happy that your dad had finally come for you.

You were strapped into the Batmobile and Tim sat close to you, holding onto your arm tightly, you felt something tug on your heart, that look in his eyes, you knew that too well, you were just minutes older than him but he still looked up at you as his older brother, perhaps you'd reconsider your decision and give in...perhaps...only time could tell.

#yandere #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere batfamily #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere red robin #yandere robin #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne #yandere red hood #yandere bat family #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam

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beanghostprincess · 2 months

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Silly vampire buggy being so very normal about it while the rest are absolutely FERAL is so funny.

Buggy, before Roger passed, still on the Oro: hmm, I'm kinda thirsty-

Shanks, ripping his already open shirt further off: Oh Dear, Oh My Look At ALL THIS So Very BITEABLE SKIN, Sure Hope There's No VAMPIRES Thirsting Near Me, Wink Wink!!!!

Buggy: I bet Gabban still has some juice boxes. I hope he has that guava one. I'll be right back!

Shanks, half naked and drooping: 🥺😟😥😫

<><><><><><><><><>

Mihawk: I read this interesting novel yesterday which gave me much to ponder.

Buggy: oh? Awesome! Which was it?

Mihawk, side-eying Buggy pointedly: it was a supernatural romance between a human and vampire. It was rather explicit and had many scenes which piqued my interest.

Buggy, absolutely Not Getting It: oh man. I usually hate those. It's a toss up between bad writing or the vampire is always a top. Like? Give me gay bottom vampires too, we deserve to be recognized!! Oh, Hawky, can you hand me my sunscreen?

Mihawk: ........... here.

Buggy: thanks, love!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Crocodile: hey you drink blood.

Buggy, sipping A+ out of a care bear cup: yeah?

Croc: does it work on Logia users? Or would your fangs need Haki to pierce us?

Buggy: hm. Good question? I dunno, actually!

Crocodile: seems this could be a learning experience. Would be a shame to not experiment. I know how much you like your science.

Buggy: I do like science. Yeah. Yeah. You're right! I SHOULD experiment on that!!

Croc, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging down his cravat: uh huh, well, I suppose we ought to get to it- where are you going

Buggy: to my workshop! Science waits for no man!!! Nor clown, in my case. Man clown? Vampire? Who knows. Wait. Am I a man...? Hm, what is the gender today... wait, have I eaten at all? I don't remember. Anyway, I need to grab my suit, I'm low on sunscreen again. Oh, remind me to add that to the next shipment request. Oh, I should also grab a bloody mary!! That sounds great! Okay. Bye bye!!

Croc, halfway undressed, watching Buggy run outside, start swearing bc he didn't pull up his hood and is cursing the light, before tripping flat onto his face: ............. shit.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy rarely pushes the limits of his abilities BECAUSE of the vampirism. If he uses his DF more than usual, it makes him hungrier. And once he hits a certain point, he begins to lose his already loosey-goosey sense of humanity. It scares him to be so cold and uninterested, especially since he always feels things turned up to eleven. When his hits that point, EVERYTHING turns off. At best, he'll be mildly annoyed, angry, amused - but it's like being in a glass bowl, watching things happen from the outside. It terrifies him.

His partners...? Well. It does things to them too, but terror isn't exactly the dominating feeling... 👀

((Also, the romanticism of blood. Of life energy. Of an exchange of that out of love. Of giving parts of yourself to sustain and satiate another. Carrying pieces of someone else in your body to propagate your own life. Of giving and taking consensually the liquid which carries your time. The inherent provocative nature of taking someone else's essence into yourself with full permission and full understanding because they receive so much from you in turn that it is simple, easy, logical to consent to this.))

Vampires 🥰

THE FIRST ONE IS SO REAL EFJKBWEJKBWJEKBF Shanks does that constantly he's DYING for Buggy to bite him and the clown won't even notice he's trying so much. It's ridiculous. Shanks and his failguy moment simping for a vampire that doesn't want his blood.

Mihawk and Crocodile trying to flirt and failing miserably because Buggy is always oblivious to what they do is amazing and no matter the AU it's always like this. I adore. They just want their vampire boyfriend to bite them :(( Failguys.

The last thing you said is so real. Vampires can be something so romantic and I think usually books/TV shows/Media in general don't focus on the important stuff. I want to see teen!Shuggy with Buggy and Shanks traveling together right after the crew disbands (before Roger's death) and Buggy not having access to other types of blood. So Shanks offers him his blood and they have like-- This moment of realization of how intimate it is. And Buggy will forever remember what it felt like to feel Shanks' embrace while sucking his blood without any complaints. And!! Both Mihawk and Crocodile wanting to do the same but it's definitely just for the horny, they don't expect it to be so passionate and intimate, and romantic.

Also, I agree with Buggy, the vampire should be the bottom. Really necessary for this situation.

#this is amazing thank you for this masterpiece #i genuinely laughed so loud with the first one #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #shuggy #bughawk #crocobug #cross guild

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morganas-pendragons · 3 months

Text

All My Love | Twelfth Doctor

@pompeiianbollockr

Set during the blindness arc in Season 10 because I love me some vulnerable Doctor. I don't care if it's not in Twelve's character. He gets to be vulnerable because I SAID so :D

He hasn't spoken to you since before you landed on the space station. In fact, it's been nearly a week. It's been nearly a week since The Doctor allowed himself to kiss you. To touch you.

And possibly the most devastating part.. to see you.

Self sacrificial. That was one of the best words you'd ever used to describe him in the time you'd known this face. This face. With all its quirks, and all the things he hates about it: The attack eyebrows, the lines, the wrinkles and the age... Despite all the things he'd hated about this face, the one thing he'd learned from traveling with you is that the faces didn't matter.

He truly believed you loved him for him. You knew it. He knew it. This, though... This was something he wasn't sure he was going to come back from. The Doctor had spent centuries gallivanting across the universe, running further and faster from home because he couldn't dare look back, with promises of adventures on his lips and desperation for escape in his heart.

"Tell me... am I a good man?"

You scooted closer to where he was sitting on the stairs and tentatively rose your hand to graze your fingertips across his temple and card through those unruly silver curls. He shivered at the sensation and forced his eyes open to meet yours as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, "The best man I will ever know."

He hasn't forgotten the feeling of your lips meeting the skin under his ear. Or the first time he'd kissed you of his own accord. Or the first time you'd marked him in the dead of night in his bedroom, where your lips had branded his skin. The way he'd linked your fingers together on either side of your head.

The sound of your voice calling his name. The sound of your voice in general, so soft and sweet and good...

That is something he clings to so tightly now. All the memories of the past - mere years for you, millions of years for him - that had opened his eyes to the truth: Despite all his misgivings and all his failures, he too was someone deemed worthy of loving.

You had brought a light into his life that The Doctor had not realized he'd been so deprived of. It was the light of humanity, of hope, of a heart far too big for this universe that nobody would ever thank you for. You deserved so much better than him.

And yet, you didn't want better.

You only wanted him.

He can't figure out why he's so... sad. There's an empty hole in his hearts and his mind where someone used to be, where the memory and the love of someone he cared for used to occupy, and the realization he cannot place who they are is angering him.

The Doctor has always been vengeful. The Oncoming Storm, The Valeyard, Timelord Victorious. He has rage written into the very essence of his bones and a desire to protect and save people in a way no one had ever saved him from himself.

"Hey you," You dragged your fingers across his shoulder blades as you came to sit beside him in the open doorway of the TARDIS. "Where did you go?"

That was one of the things he'd first recognized he loved about you. Despite this body having difficulties with physical affection and intimacy, he'd learned how to communicate with body language and gazes. Absent looks. Looks of adoration. Affection. Longing. That was all it took.

And you still read him like a book.

"Something's missing," He lightly knocked on his temple as you reached out and took his hand in your own. The Doctor let you. It was like he could feel the sunlight and warmth seeping from you into him. The light overwhelming the dark. "In here. There's someone who's supposed to be in here with the rest of them. I don't remember."

You did. You did, and Clara had made you promise before she flew away that you would never help him remember. That you would help him carry the weight.

"Maybe you're not supposed to. We're all stories in the end," You whisper. The Doctor softened as he lifted your hand to his lips and tentatively brushed them against your knuckles. "And maybe some of those stories become songs. Whispers of melodies and lines that hold the things we cannot remember."

All of his memories are composed in a form of music: Lines upon lines of melancholic notes in the minor key that is his endless life, with crescendos of bright notes meant to convey the optimism and light brought by the companions who travel alongside him.

And when they leave, the decrescendo extends over what feels like years, softening to a singular note that eases into silence.

Him, alone, on his own battlefield. That's how he feels right now. Battling the recognition that he may never be able to bask in the light again. That he may always be victim to the darkness.

So The Doctor lets the darkness win. He distances himself from you because it's better to face the darkness alone.

However, you are not willing to let him.

***

You know him. You know him better then you know yourself, and you have known him long enough to know his tells when it comes to how he keeps his secrets. How he lets himself lie. You are the only person who is able to truly see The Doctor.

You would be lying if you said you weren't hurt by his sudden distance. He hadn't done this since he'd recently regenerated. When he'd been resentful of his new body, of the world, and of who he was now.

You had lost count of all of the times that you had followed the sound of grief and heartache and despair into the darkness of his bedroom. All the times he'd turned you away. All the times he'd left you out in the cold of the TARDIS hallways.

All the times he'd finally given in and allowed himself to be held.

You'd been longing to do that again. To be the one being held, to be reminded that he did indeed still love you. The Doctor always went on about having ''a duty of care'' for you and for Bill.

Did your self hatred overwhelm your duty of care, Doctor? Did the coward finally win?

When Bill and Nardole had disappeared, you had stayed behind with The Doctor when he'd attempted to read the Veritas. You had been right around the corner when you were alarmed by the sound of pained groaning coming from within the cage.

"Cardinal, it worked. I can see. Not well enough. Not yet."

Dread bubbled low in your stomach as you approached the cage from behind. Hadn't his blindness been cured? What was he talking about?

"Think about the universes. Whatever you need, you can always borrow." He blinked heavily. Once, twice, three times to try and clear the haze from over his eyes. You were standing just outside of his peripheral vision. He wouldn't be able to tell you were there. And after shutting you out, after days of nothing.. This upset you. This hurt. "As long as you pay it back. I just borrowed from my future. I get a few minutes of proper eyesight, but I lose something. Maybe all my future regenerations will be blind. Maybe I won't regenerate ever again. Maybe I'll drop dead in twenty minutes, but... I will be able to read this."

He slammed his hand on top of the Veritas. You weren't paying attention anymore. The next thing you knew, the lights were going out, and you were running to keep up with him even though he did not know you were there.

You tried not to let your hurt show. Or for him to hear it in your voice.

That would come later.

***

When all was said and done, you found him in the console room. He was still adjusting to learning how to identify when people were approaching based off of his other senses. It took The Doctor a moment to recognize the sound of footsteps approaching, but he did turn from his seat on the pilot's chair nearest to the console to where he thought you were standing.

He also didn't know that you were very aware he was still blind.

"Darling? Is that you? You should know that I always know it's you. Don't be coy."

"I'm mad at you."

His brow rose at that. "And why would that be?"

You walked forward to stand in the natural part of his legs. "For all of the times you have dragged me across the universe," You begin, swallowing your fear as you take both his hands and settle them on your hips while you settle in his lap. "For all the times I have had with you, the years I have known you. I never thought you'd be this thick."

The Doctor snorted. Did you not know this face? He was ridiculously thick headed.

"You should know by now that I am extremely thick," He argued, allowing his fingers to drift under the fabric of your cotton shirt and drum lightly against your hips. "Thick headed and arrogant and a selfish old man."

"An old man who forgot the first promise we ever made." You have yet to touch him. To properly touch him. ''Tell me. When did you forget?"

He struggled to keep hold of those memories. The early ones. When one has an infinite life, you do your best to hold onto what is precious.

"You can't." The Doctor had declared. It had been mere weeks since he'd regenerated, and he was so unsure, so scared. He did a remarkable job of hiding it. "You can't love me."

It was also the first time you'd properly been able to communicate how you felt to him. Eleven had called you, desperate and longing and begging you to understand, to remember that he's still The Doctor despite having a different face.

You had never had the courage to tell his younger face that you loved him. When Eleven had helped you to recognize the fear underneath that worn, aged face, you'd walked right back into the TARDIS and declared it with all the courage of a soldier facing a battlefield alone.

"I do love you. I have loved you. It took a while for me to recognize it, but I do. It's not a lie. It's not a trick or deception. It's me." You took your hand and placed it on his chest. He winced, though briefly, because this body was not quite ready to accept more physical contact than that. "Being brave."

"Promise me then. No secrets. No tricks." He murmured. You took the opportunity to close the gap of space between you, keeping your hand in its place as his grey eyes met yours. You shivered as he brought his own hand up to cradle your jaw. Your lips parted on their own accord as his eyes flickered down to them before slowly dragging his gaze upward to meet your own. "Promise me that you will keep them safe."

"Them?"

"Those fragile, beating things you've held in your hands since we met. Tell me," His breath fanned across your face as he hesitantly leaned inward. "What does it feel like to hold a Timelords hearts?"

"I asked you to keep me safe," The Doctor remarked. "That's not your job. It was an unrealistic promise."

"You're forgetting the beginning of that promise," You finally leaned inward enough that The Doctor could feel the rise and fall of your chest, the warmth of your breath against his cheek. He froze as you lightly tapped his sonic glasses. "No secrets. Take them off."

He did not move for almost a minute and a half. The Doctor knew that he should've seen this coming. He should've known you were clever enough to figure him out.

He removed one hand from under your shirt and removed the glasses willingly. Your heart hammered painfully hard in your chest as you were greeted with the familiar grey of his eyes. This time, however, they were cloudy. They were almost... dark.

"It never went away. I just didn't know how to properly tell you." The Doctor shrugged. "You deserve better. It's as I've said. Selfish old man, traveling across the universe with his best-"

He paused as you pressed a fingertip to his lips. The Doctor hummed and kissed your finger, reveling in the feeling of warmth tracing his face reverently.

"I wish you'd just told me." You murmured. You pressed yourself closer, dragging his hand up your hip until his thumb was pressing hard enough against your skin to feel your heartbeat. "You know me better than this. I love you. You have all my love."

"Even without my sight?" He asked. "I can't... I can't see you. And it's devastating."

That was a peculiar way to describe it. "What could be devastating about that?"

"You really don't know, do you?" He replied. You took both of his hands and slowly lifted them to your face, setting his thumbs against the curve of your lips. "It's hard to come to terms with the darkness winning when you've learned to love the light."

Oh.

"You can't see me," You whisper. You shiver as he drags his fingers across your mouth slowly, allowing them to travel across your face. "But you can learn how to find the light again. Darkness isn't forever."

You spent what felt like hours in silence after that. The Doctor allowed himself to drink in the warmth for the first time in ages, humming as you allowed him to relearn your face. The shape of your eyes. The sweep of your nose, the curve of your lips, the texture of your hair under his fingers.

When he was done, your breath caught as he tangled his fingers in your hair and dragged your head back just enough to expose the slope of your neck. "My love," His voice rumbled deep in his chest. "Tell me, what does it feel like?"

It took you a moment to find your voice as he lowered his head to drag his teeth across your pulse point, followed by the warmth of his lips that elicited a shiver from deep within you. "What does.. What does what feel like, Doctor?"

The last thing he says is, "Being the light." Before he's capturing your lips with his own, and the light overcomes the darkness once again.

#twelfth doctor x reader #12th Doctor x Reader #doctor who imagines #doctor who oneshots

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igotanidea · 7 months

Text

Alternate: Jason todd x fem!reader

summary: I love you in every multiverse.

***

“I wish I've met you earlier…..”

She frowned.

As sweet as that sentence sounded, she could tell there was a hidden meaning to it. Something indefinable, not conveyable with words. Something only someone close to Jason would recognize.

It was a Saturday morning after a intense Friday night. There was no obligation to go anywhere, to do anything, to rush through the task list and Jason and Y/N were laying in bed, tangled in the sheets, their bodies so close together and yet not close enough, simply enjoying each other’s presence and warmth coming from the intimacy. The sounds of rain drops thumping out on the window sill added to the atmosphere of the incoming lazy day as Y/N snuggled closer to Jason, making sure he wouldn’t run away from her.

He was still learning how to be calm and at peace like this.

Barely a second ago, her head was laying on his chest, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin, softly, slowly in the most loving and caring gesture she could produce, almost as if she was trying to tell him to stay, without using her voice. One of his arms were wrapped around her waist, caressing the small of her back making her hum softly in contentment, the other tangled in her hair.

It was so perfect.

And then he said those six words.

“Jay?” she asked a bit confused why he came up with something like that out of the blue. “Is everything ok, baby?” Y/N raised her head wriggling out of his embrace, searching for his eyes, her voice and gaze concerned at the sudden confession.

He knew better than to look at her, instead keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling, hands behind his head now, still laying on his back on the bed, not budging even a little. He knew that the second their gazes met he would break. And he hated being vulnerable.

Yes, he loved her.

Yes, he felt safe with his emotions while being with her.

Yes, he trusted her.

But.

He was an emotional one and pouring his heart out to someone, anyone was still hard.

So he stayed silent, afraid of as much as the possibility of being too much.

“Jason.” She said, her voice more serious now, but he was deaf to her calling. “Jason!”

“Yes, princess?” he asked casually

“Come on! You can’t just drop a sentence like that and go silent on me….”she cooed cupping his face and forcing him to look at her. “baby…..” she caressed his cheek and leaned forwards brush her nose over his. “talk to me, please…..”

“It’s nothing.”

She sighed. God, he could be so stubborn at times.

“Jace…. I love you…. It doesn’t matter that we haven’t met ten years later. Or five…. You hear me? it doesn’t matter…. I love you…. You have all of my affection now and….”

“I could have loved you for so much longer…..” he whispered chiming in and closing his eyes.

“What…..?” her heart hammered in her chest, the slightest blush creeping on her face. Out of every romantic and sweet things he ever said, out of all the poems and sentences he quoted to her this little one might have been the most intimate one. It was a suggestion that what they had was something more than a fling. And even though she knew that, hearing something like that coming from him brought tears of happiness into her eyes.

“Y/N? Oh God…. I’m so sorry, baby….” He changed position, sitting up to hug her to his chest immediately “I’m so sorry, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to hurt you…..” he started babbling kissing the top of her head repeatedly, holding her tighter. “I just wish I knew you before so I could save you from all the things that happened in your past…. Self doubts, pain, hurt, fear…. I wish I could have been your shield, protecting you from any harm…..You didn’t deserve a single trauma that happened in your life…. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there baby….”

“You know….” she pulled back slightly “all those details you mentioned… all that trauma… it led me to you…. It led me to the only person I know my heart is safe with….. It’s like I loved you before even knowing you….? Does that make sense?

“It does to me.” He smiled softly, wiping her tears “cause I think I feel the same. Hey, I am not good with all that space and time concepts, but do you think we might have met before?”

“Are you asking me if I believe in reincarnation of souls?”

“Do you?”

“Not until now…..” she whispered “I know it may sound stupid, but ….. do you think there is a alternate reality, somewhere, where we haven’t met? Cause I don’t think I could ever be without you…..”

“Baby…..” he smiled brushing hair out of her forehead and kissing her temple, pulling her closer to him, rocking gently back and forth. “Such verse is pretty much impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you in every multiverse…..” he smiles leaning his forehead on her.

And it was perfect.......

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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babybluebex · 11 months

Text

long lost love: after | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: part two of two! eight years after you break up with joseph, you reunite with him, and you grapple with the decision of if you want to get back with him and become a household name like him, or if you want to lose him again. pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader (rpf - don't like, don't read) tags: accusations of infidelity, lovesick joey, wes makes several appearances AGAIN, mentions of smut (but no actual smut lol sorry), brief mention of vomit author's note: thank you for your patience with this fic! i don't deserve y'all, and i love y'all so much!! thanks for reading this fic, and i hope you enjoy the end!

“Oh my god, babe,” your coworker started, leaning over to wipe down a table. She was young, a girl named Anna that was still in uni, and you liked her a lot, enough that you called her your work-sister. Yes, you were doing what you had to do; roles had washed up, and you needed to pay the bills somehow, so you were waiting tables at a little restaurant in the heart of London. It was a hellish job and you hated it, but you had no other choice.

After your short stint on the sitcom right out of LAMDA, you had auditioned and sent in tape after tape, but nothing really came to fruition. You weren’t as lucky as other people were, and you sometimes thought about going to uni proper so that you could get a meaningful degree and get a real job and give up on the whole acting thing, but you couldn’t possibly do that to yourself. Your pride was too strong and, after Joe, you were determined not to sabotage your own life again. You didn’t date, and you continued to send in tapes. “You’ll never guess who just walked in.”

“Is it Kate and William?” you chuckled, wiping the bread crumbs from your own table. “No, wait— It’s Meg and Harry.”

“No,” Anna laughed. “Do you watch Stranger Things?”

You shrugged. “I mean, I watched the first season,” you said. “I know the fourth one just came out.”

“Yeah, well, Steve and Eddie from Stranger Things just walked in,” Anna said. She could barely contain her excitement, and you rolled your eyes as you laughed. “Will you take that table from me? I can’t serve them, I’m too nervous.”

“Sure,” you said; it was a slow lunch hour, and a table meant money. Especially if these guys were on a Netflix show. “But you’re taking my next table that comes in.”

“Deal,” Anna said.

You smiled at her as you tightened your apron around your middle, and you approached the only filled table in the whole place. Two men occupied it, one facing you and the other facing away. The one facing you, you recognized— He was Steve, you remembered from when you watched the first season. With his head of good hair, it was impossible to mistake him, but you had no idea what his name was. The other guy— well, you couldn’t make him out too well, not from the back of his head. “Hi there, gents,” you welcomed them, smiling first at “Steve” and then turning your attention to the other man. “Welcome to—“

You dropped your pen, your breath sticking in your chest. Joseph. It was Joseph. He looked equally as shocked to see you, dark eyes big and wide, his cheeks pale, and tears started to well in your eyes. “Oh my God,” you whispered. You couldn’t breathe, your heart ramming inside your chest. It was actually him. He was here.

“I actually get that a lot,” “Steve” laughed.

“Oh my… Wow,” Joseph said, a grin crossing his face. “H-How are you, how have you been?”

“I’m fine,” you told Joseph, and he stood up to envelop you in a hug. You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him back, hand on the nape of his neck, appreciating how eight years could change a person. He smelled different, felt different against your body, he even seemed to carry himself differently. His hair looked darker, he had a bit of stubble on his chin, he had small wrinkles next to his eyes— but he still had his beautiful brown eyes, the same ones that had drawn you in, back all those years ago. “I’ve been fine, how are you?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Joseph said with a breathy chuckle. “It’s been— What? Eight years? Time flies, huh?”

“Definitely,” you agreed. You couldn’t believe it. Right in front of you was your biggest regret, smiling at you and staring you in the face, and you could only manage to be cordial. You wanted to be childish, to break down at his feet and beg for him to take you back, but all you managed to say was, “Sorry for not keeping in touch.”

“Oh, it’s—” Joseph said, and he dismissively waved his hand around.”Right after Dickensian happened, I had to change my phone number, so it’s probably my fault.”

“Crazed fan?” you asked and laughed, and Joseph pulled a face, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he gnawed on his lip.

“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Here, actually, I’ve had to change my number again since Stranger Things aired, let me give you my new number.”

“You’re blowing through phone numbers,” you chuckled. “That many crazed fans?”

“Well, this time I changed it because my old number was linked to my Hinge account,” Joseph said with an embarrassed flush in his cheeks, and your heart skipped. Had he been using dating apps? Jesus, even the thought made you ill. You hadn’t dated anybody since him, and you wondered how prolific he had been in the wake of his success, but then you stopped that line of thought. It was your fault he was single in the first place. “And I didn’t want people to find that account so… I changed it.”

“Smart,” you nodded. “Yeah, I don’t have my phone on me right now— against the rules— so just, umm—”

“Give me your number,” Joseph said quickly. “I’ll text you instead.” He gave you a crooked smile, the same crooked smile that he had given you that first day, when he still had his braces on, and it made your heart melt. You were a little glad that the onus was on Joseph to contact you instead of the other way around; you never would have texted him, too afraid of messing everything up again. “I’m not in London for very much longer, but maybe we could grab a drink before I head to Santa Monica.”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said. Joseph handed you his phone, open to a new contact card, and you quickly typed in your name and number, then hesitated before adding a small heart after your name. That would tell him what he needed to know without actually saying it, you hoped. “I’d like that a lot. Oh, how’s Wes?”

“Wes is doing good,” Joseph told you, pocketing his phone swiftly. “He and Liam got married a few years ago, in 2018.”

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed. “Oh, good for them! I remember Wes telling me all about how he thought Liam was ‘the one’ when they first started dating.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joseph laughed. “They’re still obsessed with each other, it makes me sick.”

“They always were a little into PDA,” you smiled, reminiscing on movie nights with the pair. “But they were cute.”

“You know…” Joseph started. “I was going to grab drinks with Wes tonight, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you joined. He was just talking about you the other day, wondering what was going on and everything.”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “I’d actually love that, I’ve been wondering how he is too. I haven’t been able to find him on social media. Or you either, for that matter.”

“Yeah, I had Twitter for a bit, but I gave up on it,” Joseph admitted. “I just… I don’t know, I think I’m too old for that sorta stuff. I don’t know how it works or anything; I have an Instagram but my mate runs it for me, and only because Netflix basically forced me to get it. I don’t even know the password to it.” He laughed, and so did you, and you caught “Steve” out of the corner of your eye, suddenly remembering that he was there too. “Oh, fuck, sorry, where are my manners? Y/N, this is Joe Keery, he plays Steve. Joe, this is Y/N, she’s my… Well, it’s a long story, but we went to LAMDA together.”

Wow. What a way to simplify your relationship. Although, you suppose it was easier than explaining “We used to date and then she broke up with me because she thought I cheated, which I didn’t, but she knows that now”. Long story, indeed. “We were pretty much best mates,” you added. “But after we graduated, we just… Drifted apart.”

“What a shame too,” Joseph mumbled, then, before you could react, added, “I’ll text you about tonight, yeah? Time and place and all.”

“Alright,” you said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

You ended up introducing Anna to Joe and Joseph, telling her that they were good people and would tip her well, and you excused yourself to the server alley. Your hands were shaking as you sat down on a cardboard box and buried your head in your hands, and you tried to control your breathing. Joseph. No longer was he the awkward, blond, braces-and-glasses thing that he had been— he had matured nicely, luckily seemingly keeping his sense of humor that you adored, and you sniffled as you extracted your phone. You saw a text from an unknown number that just said “Joey” with a heart, and you frowned it away as you went to Instagram and typed in his name. Sure enough, his account was the first one to pop up, only one post so far, of a heavily made-up Joseph. He wore a long wig, giving the camera his best Blue Steel look, looking more serious and deadly than you had ever seen him before. Apparently, according to Anna, this was Eddie.

Before you could do any more research into Eddie or Joseph, a new text came through from the same unknown number, Joey’s number. Wes and I are meeting at Soho House at 8 o’clock, he texted. I’ll be there a few minutes early, to make sure that you can get in.

You had heard of the exclusive Soho House before, although you had never been in it, and your heart skipped. Joseph had definitely moved up in the world. Cool, you answered back. I can’t wait.

Wes says he’s excited to see you, Joseph told you. It’s been a while, huh?

Yeah, for sure, you answered. And you stopped, debating what to say next. Should you apologize? Would he even know what you were apologizing for? Maybe you should wait to apologize and explain yourself in person. But Wes would be there, you wouldn’t be able to say exactly what you wanted. You wished that you could be alone with Joseph and talk, but you would take drinks. You would take anything that he decided to give you.

You went home after your shift and instantly started to fret as you got dressed. Would it be awkward? Would you even enjoy the drinks with your old lover and friend? Or was tonight bound to be a disaster? You decided to try to look at it with as much positivity as you could— if he was inviting you out for drinks, he couldn’t hate you that much, right? Maybe he had forgiven you. Maybe he was still in love with you.

No. Put that thought away. He was not in love with you. He had been dating since you, and probably had had girlfriends since you. He probably had a girlfriend now. He was the ultimate full package, kind and thoughtful and smart and funny and handsome and interesting, he was everything, girls should swoon over him. He should be absolutely rolling in women; there was no way that he still had feelings for you.

When you arrived at Soho House, you saw him sitting outside instantly. He was looking as handsome as ever, smoking a cigarette and sipping on a drink in a short tumbler, and he took your breath away in a brown suit. God, had he grown even more handsome in your years apart? It didn’t feel real. “Joe!” you grinned as you approached him, and he smiled back at you, putting his cigarette out in an ashtray.

“Hello!” he crooned, opening his arms for you. In an instant, almost as if you were drawn magnetically, you fell into his arms, hugging him tightly and pressing your head into his neck to smell his warm and earthy cologne. Joseph rubbed your back as he hugged you, just the same way he always used to, and, when you pulled away from the hug, Joseph gave you a warm, blushed smile. “Well, darling, you look stunning.”

“Thank you,” you laughed breathlessly. “Says you! You— Fuck, you grew up! You look so good!”

“Aw, well,” Joseph shrugged bashfully, tugging at the thin silver chain around his neck. “I mean, a lot can change in eight years.”

“True,” you said. “But… A lot can stay the same… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Joseph asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I…” you started. “For… You know what for. Don’t make me say it. It was humiliating enough the first time around.”

“Let’s not have this talk here,” Joseph said softly. “Just come home with me later, we can talk there.”

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “Can I just ask one thing?” Joseph nodded, and you carefully took his hands in yours, pressing your palms against his. You were scared to even ask, knowing that he would reject you, but you kept your resolve. “I know I hurt you. I know you probably want nothing to do with me, but… Please, if there’s any part of you that doesn’t hate me, just tell me. You are the best thing I’ve ever had in my life and I ruined it, and—”

Before you could say more, Joseph leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. It was quick, you could hardly call it a kiss, but your heart pounded in your chest like it did with your first kiss with Joe, all those years ago. You sighed and laced your fingers with Joe’s as he broke the kiss, and you started, “Does that mean—”

“Yes,” Joe whispered. “I never stopped loving you, sweetheart. You hurt me, but I never let you go.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “Good. Umm… Let’s go. Is Wes inside?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “He won’t stop talking about you.” With a hand on your back, he led you inside the exclusive club. You felt lightheaded even walking beside him again, and you couldn’t help the grin that covered your face when you saw Wes. He looked exactly the same, and you hugged him tightly. Wes’s arms were just as tight around you as he laughed, and he said, “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Y/N. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Sorry.”

Joe helped you sit down on one of the tall stools, his hand still on your back, and he kissed your hair as he mumbled something about going to the restroom, and he slipped away as Wes showed you his hand and the gleaming silver band. “Liam and I got hitched,” Wes smiled as you squealed in excitement.

“Oh, Wes, I’m so happy for you!” you told him.

Wes hesitated for a second, looking over his shoulder at Joe retreating as he showed restraint that you didn’t remember him having, and he finally said, “Joe will never tell you, but you really did a number on him.”

“I know I did,” you cringed.

“No, like,” Wes started. “He was going to ask you to marry him. He had the ring in his sock drawer and everything. When you broke up with him, I came home to find him on the floor, sobbing. He cried so hard he threw up. He was inconsolable for weeks. Didn’t do anything other than go to work and lay in bed. He was depressed, love. I thought he’d be like that forever.”

A ring. Marriage. The thought that you had ruined that made you sick. You rubbed the hem of your shirt between your fingers as you nodded at your lap, and you mumbled, “What got him out of that?”

“Honestly?” Wes asked. “I don’t think he ever got out of it. I think working helps him, but he didn’t figure that out for a while. He did Dickensian, then didn’t work again for, like, a year, and he got really bad. He still really only works and goes home. I had to twist his arm to even get him to agree to this. ”

“Is it really your place to be telling me this?” you asked, halfway-jokingly, and Wes smiled.

“It’s definitely not,” Wes said humorlessly. “But you deserve to know how he reacted when you broke up with him. It ruined him. He deserves better than that, and if you’re going to hurt him again, then don’t even bother.”

“What makes you think that we’re gonna get back together?” you asked. “He wants nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not what that kiss outside said,” Wes shrugged. “Just… Don’t let him down. Like I said, he’s been hurt enough by you.”

You felt thoroughly shaken by that, but you nodded and righted yourself as Joe came back to the table, resting his hand on your shoulder. “What do you want to drink?” he asked. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Oh, umm,” you started. “I can get it. Sit down, visit with Wes, I’ll be right back…” Quickly, before he could ask questions, you stood up and made your way to the bar. You needed a second alone to absorb everything Wes had just told you, but Joe had his own idea, taking the back of your shirt in a gentle grip and following you to the bar.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Joe said firmly.

“Nothing,” you told him. “Everything’s fine.”

“Did Wes say something?” Joe asked.

“No,” you insisted. “I just… This was a bad idea, all of this was a terrible… I’m going home.”

“No, wait,” Joe said quickly. “Talk to me, darling, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m not your darling,” you said quickly, edging past him towards the door. “Not anymore, I fucked that up so long ago—”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Joe told you, following you once again, out onto the street.

“We could have been married by now, Joe!” you exclaimed. “We could’ve had kids by now! We could have had entirely different lives, the lives we always wanted, if it weren’t for me and-and my— I was an idiot, I was stupid and I thought I saw the signs and—”

“Hey, easy,” Joe said softly, shushing you as he pulled you into his arms. “You’re right, our lives could be completely different, but you weren’t the only one in the breakup. I could have tried to explain myself, I could have done a million things to keep you, but I didn’t, and I’ve fucking regretted it every day since then. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and, if I could, I’d snap my fingers and have everything change, but I can’t do that. All I can do is beg you, please, come back to me.”

“But I did so wrong by you,” you whimpered. “Why do you still want me?”

“Because I love you,” Joe told you. “I’ve loved you since I met you, and every morning, I wake up without you next to me and it fucking hurts. I want this to stop hurting. Please.” His eyes were big and wet, pleading and begging with every inch of himself, and you sniffled as you pressed your hand to his cheek.

“Joey,” you said on shaky breaths. “I want you back too, but I can’t… I’ll just hurt you again.”

“How are you sure?” Joe asked. “You don’t know that. Maybe we needed the few years apart to find ourselves, so when we came back together, we’d be more mature and… Darling, please. What do you need me to do? Get on my knees? I’ll do whatever you need me to. I just need you back in my life, please.”

“Baby, please,” you sighed. “Stop begging. I’m… It’s such a terrible idea. How the actual fuck are we supposed to go back to being together like nothing happened? I’ll always feel guilty about the things I did to you.”

“But you don’t need to be,” Joe said. “You made the best decision you could have with the information you had. If I had the same evidence, I would have done the same. My girl, please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as your tears fell, and you mumbled, “Everything in me is telling me not to do this, but… I’ll do it. Maybe we can do a trial run, a few weeks together casually, and if that works, we can… We can be together fully.”

“I’ll take it,” Joe said quickly. He nodded quickly, putting his hands on your waist, and he said, “I leave London the day after tomorrow for the MTV Awards, but-but, yes, a trial run would be amazing.”

“MTV?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “Were you nominated for something?”

“Well, no,” Joe started. “But me and a few other guys from Stranger Things are presenting an award.”

“My famous actor,” you chuckled lightly, knocking his chin playfully with your knuckle, and Joe flushed. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, darling,” Joe said softly. “I’ve always dreamed of hearing you say that.”

The rest of the night went by better than you expected. Joe convinced you to go back inside Soho House with Wes, and the three of you threw back drinks and laughed like old times. It felt like no time had passed, all of the same old jokes coming back to you and making you laugh as hard as the first time, all of the “Remember when Joe…” or “Do you still…”, and Joe’s hand rested on your thigh all night, inching further and further up as the night went on. Eventually, as his thumb rubbed your inner thigh about half past eleven, you sighed and put down your glass. “Well, gents,” you said. “This has been just lovely, but I need to get going. I open at work tomorrow, which means I’ve gotta wake up early.”

“No!” Wes sighed. “Don’t leave!”

“I have to!” you giggled, pulling your purse around your body. “Bye, Wessy, it was so nice to see you!”

“Wait,” Wes said, standing up and drawing you into a tight hug. You smiled into his shoulder as he embraced you, and, when he pulled away, he said, “Okay, now you can go.”

“Alright,” you chuckled. Then, you turned to Joe, unsure of how to depart, and he stood up too.

“I’ll walk you outside,” Joe said. “Have to make sure my woman gets home safe.”

“Your woman?” you scoffed.

“Won’t have anyone touch my woman,” Joe mumbled, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the seat and tossing it over his shoulders. You smiled as he put a hand on your back and led you outside, the city bustling now, and, once you were outside, you hugged Joe tightly, hand on the nape of his neck.

“Thank you, Joey,” you said. “Maybe we can see each other again before you leave for Santa Monica.”

“Come home with me,” Joe said quickly. “Please?”

“Cheeky bloke,” you grinned. “S’that all you want from me? Just a little fuck?”

“No!” Joe huffed. “I mean, yes. I mean…” He laughed a little, and he said, “Are you drunk?”

“A little,” you admitted.

“Me too,” Joe cringed. “This is a terrible idea, isn’t it? I should let you go home and go to work tomorrow, and we can save this for when I come back.”

“Or,” you started, then lowered your voice, tangling your finger in the silver chain around his neck. “You can take me home, we don’t fuck, but we can do all of that other stuff anyway.”

“I could do with a cuddle or two,” Joe mumbled, rubbing his jaw with his hand, jokingly thoughtful. “But you have work tomorrow.”

“So I’ll call in sick,” you said. “We can spend all day together tomorrow, catching up and everything.”

“That sounds tempting,” Joe said. “Can we fuck tomorrow, when we’re both sober?”

“Yes,” you told him. “Now, call a cab, and take me home.”

It was the same flat that Joe and Wes used to live in. You still remembered your way around and all of the motions you used to go through, setting your purse on the dining table and toeing off your shoes at the door— it even smelled the same as it used to, laundry soap and cigarettes, and you giggled as Joe led you into his bedroom. The things in it had changed, a different bed frame and different photographs and different curtains, but the bed felt the same as you laid on your back, looking up at the same ceiling that you used to. Everything was so different, but so similar, and you watched as Joe shrugged out of his suit jacket and let it crumple to the floor as he went for his belt. At least that hadn’t changed. Your messy little Joey.

“Joey?” you whispered, and Joe looked at you with big eyes, waiting for you to say more. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you had never stopped loving him, that you would always love him, but all that came out was, “You said something about cuddles?”

“I did,” Joe said softly. “Let me get undressed, love.”

You sat up and moved over to meet him by the closet door, and you nudged his hands away in favor of your own hands undoing his belt. “Let me…” you mumbled, feeling the buckle loosen, and it fell away in an instant. Joe sighed, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, and he pressed his lips to your forehead as you tugged his belt out of the loops.

“I missed you,” Joe whispered, and you frowned.

“I’m so sorry, Joey,” you told him. “I was so stupid, I should have just listened to you.”

“It’s okay,” Joe told you. “At least you came back to me.”

“I love you,” you whispered, and Joe smoothed down your hair gently.

“I love you so much,” Joe mumbled. His hand fell from your hair and went to the bottom of your shirt, and he tugged it up and off. You undressed each other with gentle love, stealing kisses and stepping back towards the bed, and you cuddled close into Joe’s warm chest as he laid down next to you. He was left only in his boxers, you in your panties, and his arm went around you, squeezing you for a moment. “Oh, my girl… I never thought I’d get to hold you again.”

“I’m right here,” you told him, gently kissing his chest. “I’ll never leave again.”

The night passed with comfort, bundled up in Joe’s safe arms. He fell asleep quickly, just like he always used to, and you slept well in his grip. You only woke up at around 7 in the morning, with your phone going off across the room, and you groaned and wiped sleepily at your eyes. Joe was still holding you in a death grip in his sleep, and you pried yourself out of his arms and carefully crossed the room to retrieve your buzzing phone. Your mum was calling. Oh God.

You slipped out of the bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind you, before you answered the phone. “Hey, Mum,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was cold, especially with your level of undress, and you went to the small laundry room to try to find a shirt or something. “Why’re you calling me so early?”

“I was looking at the news as I had my coffee,” your mum began, and you flipped up a t-shirt that was sitting in the dryer. It smelled clean, like Joe, and unwrinkled, and you slipped it up over your head as your mum spoke. “And I saw an interesting article.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked absently.

“Yes,” your mum said. “It was a series of pictures of you and that Joseph boy on the street, snogging away without a care in the world.”

“What?” you said sharply. “Where did you see this? Send it to me! There’s a news article about us?”

“I thought that you and Joseph broke up years ago,” your mum said. You were fully awake now, setting her on speakerphone as you went to Google and searched up Joseph’s name. Just as your mother said, there was a news article, some ratty gossip mag, your picture splayed across the front of the website: WHO IS STRANGER THINGS’S EDDIE DATING? It was a paparazzi picture from last night, of you and Joseph at nightfall, kissing and smiling, and your heart fell deep into your stomach. “Are you back together?”

“Umm, it’s complicated,” you answered. You could hardly even register the hangover in your skull with the rapid panic of your heartbeat, and you went back into the bedroom to find Joe now awake, squinting as he looked at his phone screen without his contacts in. “Kinda? It-It’s hard to explain.”

“Did you see—” Joe started to ask, and you frowned as you nodded. “Shit, darling, I didn’t think—”

“Well, explain it,” your mum told you. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You sighed. “Joe and I are back together,” you said. “But he’s leaving the country tomorrow and won’t be back for a while, so it’s a lot more… Casual, than I think either of us want it to be.”

“But I thought he cheated on you?” your mum asked.

“I can call my publicist and see what we can do about getting this removed,” Joe started. “Do you want me to do that?”

You felt sick. Everyone talking to you at once, the upset in your chest, an odd feeling of betrayal— it was too much. “Joe, stop, please,” you said quickly. “No, Mum, Joe didn’t cheat on me. I thought he did, but he didn’t. I-I have to go and sort this out, I’m sorry. Bye.” You hung up the phone and sighed, and you sank down onto the bed and covered your face with your hands.

“Darling?” Joe asked. “What can I do?”

“I didn’t even think that there would be paparazzi,” you admitted. “I’m so stupid, of course there were paparazzi around…”

“Stop, love, don’t do that,” Joe said quickly. “I should have warned you that it was a possibility. I didn’t think about how… I’m still getting used to being a celebrity, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, God,” you mumbled. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. This might be more than I’m cut out for.”

“No, what?” Joe asked. “Darling, no, don’t say that. Just because we were outed by a trashy website doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be together. I-I think we were made for each other, don’t let this little thing discourage you.”

“It’s not a little thing, though!” you said, your voice wavering. “It-It’s a big thing! I was okay living in anonymity, but this is— I was fine not being well known, but you— You’re the most talked-about guy on the planet right now! I’m not sure I’m meant to be Joseph Quinn’s girlfriend, maybe it was good that we broke up before you got super famous.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked. He looked hurt, like a little puppy, and he said, “Do you not want this?”

“I want this more than anything!” you said. “But I’ve only ever had a handful of acting jobs before, I’m a fucking server for God’s sake, I don’t think I’m ready to give that up! Right now, my options are to date you and lose my anonymity, or keep it but lose you!”

Joe sighed, shaking his head. “Well, love, I can’t make that decision for you,” he said. “What do you think is best?”

You sniffled. “I don’t want to lose you again,” you whimpered. “But I… I don’t know.”

Joe was quiet, and he took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb across your palm, and he finally said, “Let me make some calls and see what I can do about getting those pictures taken down.”

“No,” you sniffled. “Leave them up. I want everyone to know that you’re the man I love. I’m not ashamed of that.”

Joe nodded quickly. “Darling,” he started. “I don’t want to leave tomorrow if you’re this upset.”

“I’m not upset,” you told him. “Not anymore. It’s not something that either of us can control, so why bother being upset about it? Or at least I can try to believe that… I don’t want you to leave either.”

“What if I don’t leave?” Joe asked. “What if I cancelled and stayed here with you?”

“No, you can’t cancel the day before,” you said softly. “I wish there was some way I could… I don’t know, go with you. So that we didn’t have to leave each other right now.”

Joe’s eyes lit up, and he said, “Actually… There might be a way. When I was first asked to present the award, they asked if I had a date, and I said no, but I wonder if it’s too late to say yes.”

“The day before?” you cringed. “They’d have to shuffle around so much shit. And so would you. And I don’t have a dress or anything to wear, and I’m awful at doing my makeup—”

“Let me call my team,” Joe asked. “I wonder if Fabio can put something together for you, and my makeup artist might be able to… Don’t count this out, let me call my manager and see what we can do.”

Whether Joe had a silver tongue or what, you had no idea, but, by the time you had called into work to ask for the day (and next few ones) off, you were officially a guest at the MTV Awards. He had managed to secure you a spot— “you may not be sitting next to us, but you’ll be there”— and he was calling his stylist as you slipped out of the flat to go back to yours to pack. You couldn’t remember the last time you had done something spontaneous like this, and your heart thumped when you returned to Joe’s flat, luggage in hand. He was still in his boxers, although now he wore a t-shirt, and he smiled and opened his arms to you. “Tell me I’m the best boyfriend ever,” he said.

“Why?” you asked.

“My stylist, Fabio, said that he got permission from Valentino to loan him a dress for you last minute,” Joe told you, and you gasped. “I’m wearing Valentino, and now, so are you. I still have to call my makeup artist and see if she can do anything for us, but, baby—“

You jumped forward and hugged Joe tightly, laughing and smiling along with him. It felt like a dream, and you could hardly believe your luck as you pressed your lips to Joe’s. You got to kiss him again. You got to hug him again. You were the luckiest girly in the world. He sighed as he kissed you, gentle and loving, and his lips parted from yours all too soon for your liking. “Let me make more calls,” he whispered, his eyes intensely watching you. You didn’t feel small or inferior under his gaze, only loved, and he kissed your forehead before he parted from the hug. “See what I can do for you.”

“I love you,” you told him, and Joe’s ears tinged pink as he blushed. “You’re amazing.”

“I love you too,” Joe said. “I… Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I was… I was in a bad place when you left me. It was… I didn’t eat. I hardly slept. I could only think about how badly I had fucked up.”

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head. “You did nothing wrong at all. You’re literally the least guilty person in this situation, you did nothing at all, and I was… I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. And I will, for as long as you want me to. I didn’t listen to you or let you speak when it happened, and you were right to, like, cut me off and out and shit, I would have done the same, and you’re remarkable for forgiving me and wanting me back, and then bending over backwards to help me so I can wreck your plans. I don’t deserve you.”

Joe stepped back close to you, and he wrapped his arms around you and touched his nose against yours. “All I’ve ever wanted is you,” he told you. “And now I have you again.”

You thought about what Wes had told you, how Joe was so close to proposing all those years ago, and you whispered, “Did you… Keep it?”

“Keep what?” Joe asked.

“The ring,” you said, and you swallowed thickly. “Do you still have it?”

Joe nodded slowly. “I always thought that, one day, I’d have you back to wear it,” he said. “Do you want to see it?”

“I’d like to wear it this weekend,” you told him, your heart beating up in your throat and nearly choking you. “If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s…” Joe started,, and he scoffed and smiled that movie-star smile. “That’s more than okay. I’d love nothing more. Let me go get it, a-and if you end up hating it, we can find a new one for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” you told him, and Joe nearly tripped on himself as he hurried out of the living room and back into his bedroom. You followed him, albeit at a slower pace, and you leaned against the doorframe as you watched him rummage in his closet. He checked the topmost shelf, pushing his hand all the way back to the wall, and he finally closed his fingers around a small box, dragging it out of its hiding spot. The velvet on the outside of the box was a little dusty from eight years in his closet, and he blew on it and gave you a sheepish grin as he handed you the box.

You cracked it open and was met face to face with a silver diamond ring, not gaudy but big enough for it to be obvious that a large chunk of money went into purchasing it. Your mouth fell open, and you gasped softly at the sight of it, and you frowned instantly. “Joe—”

“Oh, you hate it,” he whispered. “It’s too big, isn’t it? I can get you something smaller.”

“No, no, I love it,” you said quickly. “It’s just… You kept it this whole time?”

“I told you,” Joe said. “I always thought that you’d come back and want to wear it.”

“Well, you were right,” you chuckled. “Put it on me, darling?”

Joe stepped forward, and he took the ring box from your hand and carefully lifted the ring from its velvet home. He took your hand in his and carefully slid the ring onto your finger, and you held it out for both of you to admire. “What kinda ring is this?” you asked. “A promise ring, or… More?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Joe told you.

“Can I be honest?” you asked, and Joe nodded, and you finally let your thick throat win, and you began to cry. “The thought of you being with any other girls makes me sick. I get so jealous a-and I know it’s not healthy, but I need to be your only one.”

“Have you dated since me?” Joe asked, and you shook your head. “I told you that I’ve been on dating apps, but it… I was chasing something like what you gave me, and I could only find your kind of love with you. I don’t want anybody else’s love, just yours. So… This ring?”

“I’d marry you in an instant,” you told him, pressing your hands to his cheeks. “My sweet, amazing Joe.”

You helped Joe finish packing that day as he finished his phone calls, securing a makeup artist for you the next night, and he didn’t answer his publicist’s hounding for a response to the articles. Your flight left early in the morning for Santa Monica, and you spent every second with Joe. It felt nice to be surrounded by him again, and, before you slept that night, you gave him a kiss and bundled up in his arms.

The day felt like a whirlwind. You barely had a second to breathe, and you followed Joe blindly the entire time, holding his hand and letting him take you wherever he needed to. It was good to be able to blindly trust someone again, especially after spending so long apart from each other; the fact that you were able to slip right back into that meant the world to you. Finally, you reached the hotel where preparations were being made for the awards show, and you met Joe’s favorite stylist, Fabio. Fabio was kind and silly, joking all the time and making you feel right at home, and he dressed you in a dark brown dress that complimented Joe’s suit. You smiled, watching your lover get dressed and get confused by the long scarf-like accessory attached to the shirt, and you held him close as his publicist nearly demanded to take pictures by the large window. He buried a kiss in your styled hair, and you grinned as you presented the ring to the camera. It felt special to be able to share your love with everyone now, and, as you held Joe’s hand as you approached the red carpet later that night, you felt like your heart would burst.

You had to run the gauntlet of photographers and interviewers before you could go inside and escape the sunshine, and Joe held you firmly, cringing in the sunlight but smiling at you. You were very aware of the photographers calling your name, only knowing it because of the most last-minute change to the guest list, and you grinned as best as you could with your professionally-done makeup and soft lipstick smile. Your heart was lodged anxiously in your throat for the entire time (which was really only maybe 5 minutes, but felt like hours), and you sighed as Joe approached the first woman with a microphone. You tried to step away from the camera, to give him the limelight and let the focus be on him, but his arm snaked around your middle and kept you close to him.

“Mister Joe Quinn!” The interviewer smiled as he approached. “What a sight you are! How’s your night so far?”

“Oh, God, bless you,” Joe chuckled. “I-It’s alright. Stressful, but good.”

“And who is this?” she asked, and Joe looked at you with his gaze playful, a look you recognized, even years on.

“This is my wife,” Joe said, and you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut.

The interviewer grinned at you. “You’re married to the most desired man in the world right now,” she said. “How’s it feel?”

You stammered over your words as you spoke, acutely aware that whatever you said would be broadcast all over the world. Your few roles had the same effect, but this was something different. “I-I can hardly believe it,” you said. “When I first met Joey, we were kids, and he wasn’t… Watching him grow and mature and become what he’s always dreamt of being, it’s rewarding. I love this cheeky bloke, and I couldn’t be more proud of him.”

“And what do you think of Eddie?” she asked. “Did you like him?”

If you were lying already… “Well, someone didn’t warn me about the ending,” you chuckled. “And that would have been nice.”

“I told you you’d cry,” Joe scoffed.

“Well…” you sighed, and you smiled at the interviewer. “I loved Eddie. He’s my favorite thing Joe’s ever done.”

“So, Joe,” the interviewer said. “What’s next for you?”

Joe shrugged, pouting his lips. “I’m not too worried about what comes next,” he said. “I’m gonna sit in this sun and bask for a while.”

You leaned in and softly whispered, “You deserve it.” Joe looked at you with a small smile, and he kissed your cheek softly.

“Alright, well, you’ve got a long night, so don’t let me keep you too long,” the interviewer said. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too, love,” Joe said kindly, and you smiled and waved at her as you stepped forward towards the next well-dressed interviewer and camera.

“Wife?” you mumbled through a smile, and Joe nodded.

“I’m off the market,” Joe shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I like you being off the market.”

“Good,” Joe said. “I like you being off the market.”

“My man,” you hummed, and you leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you. For absolutely everything.”

“Thank you for giving me someone to give everything to,” Joe said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

taglist: @corrodedarchiv, @faeriemunson14, @steddieloverrr, @wordscomehither, @harley1608, @ellolovely22, @birdysaturne, @freakymunson, @miserybeans, @3rd-conchord

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf

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paraliveimaginesblog · 6 months

Note

I would like to request 47 for nayuta ! btw is it possible with a mc who is too tender for her own good so he can't help but want to hug her?) maybe :') , thanks youu <33

Nayuta Yatonokami:

47. A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.

It felt like there was a boundary, a line that he couldn’t cross.

It had been so long since you’d last seen him he worried you might not recognize him, or worse, that you would and you’d be reminded of the emotions you felt that day. He so coldly broke it off with you, no explanation, hardly able to walk on his own as his body grew weaker. He had said unforgivable things to you, and then when he ‘died’ in front of Shiki, he knew the word would get back to you. You had been friends with Shiki as well, and he could only imagine the pain he put you through when Shiki had to tell you about his supposed end.

He never expected to contact you again; he had long since resigned himself to losing your love and your friendship. Nayuta had assumed that since it had already been so long since seeing you he wouldn’t have the urge to reignite the flame you once held between you regardless, but he never knew how wrong he could be. After winning at Kanata’s side once, with cozmez’s name out for all to see, he knew you knew he was still alive—he didn’t know if you were still good friends with Shiki, but some quiet yet insistent part of his brain told him the least he could do was explain what happened.

Arranging a meeting with you was easy but finding the words to say was hard beyond reason. He thought he’d rather sleep on the streets again than have to hurt you with his words. How could he explain he came back? How could he explain the reasoning behind not reaching out to you immediately, even if you may decline his call?

You stand a good distance away from each other, your eyes taking all of him in. He looked just like he did before he disappeared, pretty and much less sickly than he had once been. You can still see many familiar things about him that has your heart lurching, your stomach tied in knots, your brain unsure of how to react to him. He had offered nothing other than a quiet greeting and a hesitant wave, and now the staring contest had begun.

Nayuta didn’t think he deserved to see you. He can feel all the memories rushing back into his head, the concrete wall in his heart broken yet he can’t break past the invisible barrier that existed in person. He wanted to hold your face, to hold you, to kiss you like he had wanted to on the day of his ‘death’ but forced himself to hold back on in fear of not being able to let go. You had to have hated his guts, going through your own memories of him, remembering those awful final days together where he could hardly muster a kind word to the person he loved—

Yet you were tearing up, looking at him with a smile on your face as you saw he was alive.

“Nayuta…” You cried out, tears sliding down your cheeks, your hands rushing to brush them away as if he didn’t already see them. As if they weren’t already hitting him right where it hurts, knowing that he was the cause before and after. “I saw… I heard about you and Kanata but I was still…”

You’re too good a person, he thought, too kind-hearted and gentle for someone as direct as him. As harsh as he was. Someone who didn’t trust anyone aside from his brother, though if there was anyone else who would win him over, he supposed it would be you. Yet he still kept you on the outside.

He’d never do that again.

Nayuta thought nothing would happen in this reunion, nothing aside from angry words exchanged, with him accepting the punishment of knowing you hated him with an intensity that would make a hardened criminal wince. He stepped over that invisible line that he had drawn, his arms wrapping themselves around you, his lips pressing hard against yours.

You were caught off guard, the breath knocked from your lungs, because not only was he squeezing you so tight you could hardly breathe but because your dream was coming through. You were getting to kiss your love once again, the man who haunted your dreams night after night, taunting you to come find him and gain the closure you desperately desired. This wasn’t closure, if anything it was only urging him to stay nestled firmly in your brain, but if this kiss was anything to go by…

Maybe a second chance was in both of your futures.

Nayuta would play it right this time.

He had to.

#Paradox Live #Paralive #Paradox Live Imagines #Paralive Imagines #Paradox Live x Reader #Paralive x Reader #Nayuta Yatonokami #Yatonokami Nayuta #Nayuta Yatonokami x Reader #Scenario #Kiss Prompts

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clevelcnds · 1 year

Text

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE - JOE BURROW

(NOT MY GIF)

warnings: none really, full of angst. joe’s a complete asshole in this. sad ending.

authors note: excuse the grammar errors, i’m not the best at writing lol. lower case is intended!

they all warned you. not to fall for an nfl player. that they weren't good, they were bad news. but did you listen? no.

so here you were, heartbroken over the same man they warned you about, joe burrow. the guy who everyone liked. the man who was arguably the best quarterback in the game.

every woman fell for him, including you. how could you be so stupid? so naive to believe the lies he told you? not listening to those people around you?

you knew he was trouble, deep down you knew that. and still, you fell for his games anyway. the games that every female fell for.

you were sitting on your bed with tears streaming down your face. and the phone in your lap. as you found out joe had been seeing other women.

it wasn't just one though. it was many others. many others who fell for the same damn shit that he said. joe promised you, he'd always be loyal. it didn't seem like that now.

what were you gonna do? he was away for a game. coming home today. you knew he was trouble, yet fell for him anyway.

your mind went back to when the both of you met. that night. joe had found you, standing on a balcony alone at an NFL party.

————

"all alone?"

you looked over at the voice, immediately recognizing it was joe burrow. you didn't understand why he was talking to you? of all people.

"yeah." you laughed "i hate parties. my dad dragged me here." that's right, your dad. he was an ex nfl player and now a senior reporter.

"well wanna go somewhere else?"

what? joe burrow wanted you to go with him. your mind was spinning. part of you told you not to go. that he was trouble. but you ignored it. it was joe burrow after all.

"but you're supposed to be here."

joe shrugged "i'm already done with my interviews and speech. they can handle things without me.. so what do you say?"

"alright burrow."

joe's lips curved into a smile and put out his hand for you to take. which you did, as he led you out of the party and into his car.

"i didn't get your name." joe mentioned starting his car and driving out of the parking lot.

“y/n”

joe nodded "beautiful name." he said looking over at you. his eyes connecting to yours. the comment made you blush.

the music was playing lightly from his playlist on his phone. it became quiet. you could feel his glances on you, especially on your body.

"we are here."

it was a festival, there weren't many people. joe got out and opened your door. taking your hand in his and walking to it.

"so tell me more about yourself."

"well, i'm twenty-three. i work for a local news channel in cincinnati. i have two cats and i love football and baseball."

"you single?"

you stopped in your tracks did joe burrow just ask if you were single?

"yeah, i am."

"great, that means this is our first date right?"

you laughed "yeah i guess it is huh?"

that night you had the most fun in awhile. with joe winning you a stuffed animal and riding on the ferris wheel. where he pulled you into a kiss. your first kiss that you had with him.

it was magical. so magical. he was so sweet that night. making sure you got home safe. you thought all those rumors were fake. you wanted to believe those rumors were fake. joe treated you like a queen that night.

————

you went back when the first time joe had asked you to be his girlfriend. kissing you with all the passion he had. it was like a dream. how the both of you devoted that night to each other. your first time with him. everything.

but maybe a part of you wished you would've said no. or wished you never met him. because you wouldn't be here right now, crying over joe. a man who didn't deserve how great you were.

flashback

it was thursday night. joe was hosting a party and of course, invited you. joe had found you in the crowd and dragged you to be alone.

his arms were wrapped around you. it was just the two of you in silence. until joe spoke up, the words he spoke next made you smile. he finally asked the big question after a month and a half of talking.

"y/n."

"yeah?" you asked looking up at him

"i want you to be my girlfriend. i really like you. and i think you're really special."

you smiled at him "i'd love too."

joe pulled you into a kiss. before the both of you walked upstairs to his room. where the both of you had an amazing night. joe said nothing but loving things to you.

———-

it didn't take long for you to notice red flags though. sometimes he'd like other woman's pictures. sometimes he'd go out to parties and bars and never reply to your texts.

other times? joe would flirt with other women. sometimes in front of you. there were rumors he had another girlfriend. but you shrugged it off, saying the media was lying. they always lie anyway, for clickbait.

and when he flirted with other women? you confronted joe about it. only for him to say you were overreacting and that he was just being friendly. that it happens when your are famous. that he only had eyes for you, and only you.

but of course, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. believing him when you shouldn't of. people say you will do crazy things for love. that you would believe anything for love. they were right.

how could you ignore the signs? after all this time now? after every lie?

a knock at your door broke your thoughts. you wiped your tears and got up, it was joe. of course it was, you told him he could come over as soon as he got back.

you unlocked the door looking up at him. maybe it wasn't evident that you were crying, but something was up. joe didn't ask though, instead pulling you into a kiss.

it turned into a make out session but you stopped joe before he tried to take your shirt off. you lightly pushed him off. joe was annoyed.

"what's wrong with you?"

a laugh escapes your lips "what's wrong with me? i don't know joe. maybe it was the fact that you were caught with a different woman?"

it didn't faze him, not at all. the news you found out. he said nothing. you thought he'd deny it or apologize. but he didn't, which made you hurt more.

"so you're not going to say anything?"

"come on y/n you really thought you were special?" joe laughed looking down at you with a smirk on his face. did those words just come out of his mouth?

"what..."

"you really are dumb huh? you're so naive it's crazy. you really thought you were special? or that i loved you? well sorry to let you down but i don't."

"you're an asshole!" you yell with tears streaming down your cheeks.

joe rolled his eyes "your crying? over the truth?"

"gosh, you woman could be so sensitive today. i'm leaving. let me know if you ever want me back, they always do."

"get the hell out of my house."

joe left. leaving you all alone. all the things he said? it was torture. the man who you fell for was a complete asshole.

but again, they warned you. part of you knew he was trouble. yet you still fell.

and now you were blaming yourself. blaming yourself for being in this position.

that was the last time you saw joe. blocking him on everything. hating to see him succeed. going to the playoffs and all the women who were drooling over him. if only they knew who he truly was.

if only.

#nfl imagines #joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow x reader #music imagines #football #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #Spotify

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wr-n · 9 months

Text

Wrote something based on the idea Cray and I thought of:

Desperation wasn't new to Killer. It was what drove him into madness in the first place, filled his soul with so much Hate that he scarecely recognized himself as a Monster. Sometimes, he'd find himself lost in the hallways of the castle while his soul melted like those DT-riddled amalgams.

And he knew Nightmare wasn't far behind, hands and claws grasping at his shoulders and throat, whispering all of his sins like a Judge. It wasn't rare to see Killer hunched against a wall and sob so hard he choked on his own breath.

He'd remember Cross try making his way to him - or was that Horror? - and say something muddled but stop. Maybe they realized he was a lost cause and gave up trying. Or Nightmare simply selt them away. He can't quite tell with how his sockets flood with liquid Hate.

Sometimes, he seeks Nightmare out before an episode, when he can feel it in the back of his mind and thrumming in his soul. Staggering into Nightmare's office and collapsing at his feet as his legs gave out.

If there was one thing he did remember, it was the way Nightmare smiled at him. Like someone sick with pleasure at seeing another in pain. It was a mean smile, one he'd made all the time before the episodes came more frequently. It was a wonder Nightmare still sent him on missions. Maybe he liked watching Killer try to take lives before seizing up.

"Killer."

His head tilts up from his spot on the dark carpet, knees rubbed raw from kneeling.

"Who allowed your thoughts to wander. Pay attention."

With that, punishment came swift and agonizing - a tentacle had shot itself right through his ribs and forced his body to tilt back as he was pinned in place.

"AAAAGH!!! Uhhhnn...! Hah... hah.....hah... sorry...." He grunts out, pain shocking through his bones with every faux breath.

Every moan of pain was met with a slow twist of the tendril, never once giving Killer a moment of reprieve.

"Mm. You came to my office to hurt. Don't waste my generosity."

Killer slowly grins, he cant help it. Yeah... He deserved this. He needed it. Someone to keep hurting him. Because after all that fucked up stuff he did, maybe it was about time he paid for it.

Another tentacle shot through him, and his head was thrown back as he screamed. He screamed and eailed until his throat was hoarse and no sound could escape. Nightmare's laughter quickly filled the silence instead, his twisted glee replacing his bloodcurdling screeching.

Any would have thought this was torture beyond measure, a fate anyone would do anything to avoid meeting again.

But they knew. They both knew.

He would come back for more.

#tw violence #tw torture #tw screaming #unsympathetic nightmare #masochist killer #toxic relationship #killer #nightmare #wraith writes

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writing-by-mimi · 1 year

Text

Prize of War

Chapter 2

King!Diavolo x Princess!Mc

Adult content, read at your own risk. Not beta read.

You had tried to jump from the horse, even pull the reigns. Yet his strong arms remained around your sides no matter how you struggled.

His chest was broad, muscular, and even trying to buck backwards into him and throw him off balance did nothing. It was like running straight in to wall.

Your thighs felt like they were on fire. Being forced to ride as a man, and for such a long time through different paces and terrains had taken its toll.

You had been sitting properly at the start, but when you had tried to use it to your advantage he had forced you back onto the horse, facing forward and legs on either side. His muscular arms caging you against his chest as he held you in place.

The man who had found you had even offered to run you through for the trouble you were causing. Your only saving grace, if you could call it that, was the man behind you laughing. The deep sound reverberating your own chest as he held you closer to him and spoke of no 'damage' coming to his 'prize'.

The sun starts to rise, and you can feel the nights exhaustion. You had only been asleep for a few hours before the seige. You're covered in blood and mud and the position you're in leaves no way for any type of rest. You'll fall asleep for a few quick moments, only to be bounced back awake by the horses pace.

It's frustrating. All you want to do is rest. To sleep and wake up...to see this is just a dream and nothing more. Yet everytime your eyes slip closed for a moment, your jolted awake and the only thing different is the scenery around you. The man's arms are still holding you on the large beast of a horse, your thighs still burn from riding so long and quickly, and you can smell your father's blood in the air. It's a scent that won't leave until you wash and your not sure when that will be.

You're at this strangers mercy, and listening to his generals give reports and tell stories of the siege breaks your heart. The gaurds, though they never paid you any mind...they had families.

Those families were now left to mourn the loss of those around them and everything they had as it burned. Small children who surely woke in terror, thier mothers and fathers now laying dead in a burning castle... this man had created orphans. Who would care for them? Make sure they were fed and put to sleep at night? Kept safe from the wild and loved?

This man behind you, this monster, had ruined so many lives.

"If we continue this pace, it should only be a few more hours Mi'lord. Or would you like to stop and make camp for breakfast? We've still enough supplies for a quick meal and rest.

Diavolo turned back to Lucifer and Beelzebub. The later would be ecstatic for a quick breakfast. He deserved it. He had brought him the 'king' so he could have his revenge. "We shall stop."

"What of the young lady?"

"My offer still stands." You recognize the voice. It's the man who had killed your maids and drug you through the burning castle.

"There is no need, Lucifer." the horses no longer trot, but but slowly come to a halt. The man behind you shifts and dismounts the horse. Without him behind you the chill of the morning creeps up your spine and you can't help but shiver, holding your bound wrist to your chest in an effort to warm your fingers. You're pulled unceremoniously from the beast and as you try to move your legs to pull away from him, the burn makes you grimace. "My prize is not used to riding for long, especially as men do. Even if she were to try and run, her legs would only take her so far."

You hate that he's right. Your legs are no longer bound, but it matters not. The strength they had is gone and your knees feel as if they are made of pudding now. The only reason you haven't collapsed to the ground is because of his hand on your arm, holding you up as your body sags.

He binds your hands to the near by tree. The rope is tight and even if you could manage to move your fingers in such a dexterous way against the pain and stiffness, it would be too tight for you to do anything. He leaves a few feet of rope, it's enough for when his hand leaves your bicep that you can collapse and not be pulled by the restraints.

You've been tied to the same tree as his beastly horse. The only difference is the horse has a longer lead and has started to eat.

---

Preparing a quick camp, Barbatos sets to work. If he is careful and keeps a strong pace, they can be back to riding in an hour and back to the homelands in two.

"Why are you keeping her?"

Lucifer looks to his brother and scowls as he watches the smile on his face grow. "It's none of your concern, Beel."

Diavolo let's out a laugh as he takes his plate from Barbatos, the man sitting to his right around the small morning campfire. "Your brother brought me a beautiful prize. It feels a shame to waste it and leave it lay dead for scavengers to pick clean. It would be rude to throw such a gift away." He smiles to the dark haired man across from him.

"She is pretty, though you can tell she is a sheltered princess." Beel points to you between bites. You've turned yourself from them, but it isn't hard to tell what your trying to do. "It's kinda adorable, watching her try so hard to escape and undo the knots."

"It is admirable to a small degree. Even when faced with insurmountable odds, she has continued to put up a fair fight for a kept woman." Barbatos replies as he stands to place more food upon Beels plate.

His eyes light up as he begins to savor the taste again. It isn't fancy food, but it's comforting. Barbatos's cooking from a campfire never fails to make him feel wonderful, even if he'll still has hours of riding back ahead of him.

"She should eat. It does me no good if she is too weak for when we return."

"I'll take her the leftovers when I change feeding bags on the horses." Lucifer releases a sigh, "I feel as if I should have ran her through and not asked so many questions. I seem to have only made more work for myself."

"Such a sweet prize will not go unrewarded, Lucifer. Once we are back I will make arrangements."

The twinkle in his eyes makes Lucifer sigh.

---

You hear footsteps approach. Dropping your hands you try to act as if you were not trying to escape the impossibly tight knots.

Turning, it's the dark haired man again. You can't help it that your face contorted in anger as you look away.

"Breakfast is served, your highness."

There's mockery in his tone and you don't move until you hear his footsteps carry him away. You're hungry and who knows when you'll be fed again.

"You are quiet cruel." The smile that over takes his face as he has turned to watch brings a smile to the other man's face.

"It is not unreachable."

"Yes, but you could have just given it to her." Diavolo smirks. He can tell just by looking that it will be just out of reach from you. You'll have no choice but to use your legs or feet to scoot the plate across the grass.

Beel just frowns as he carries on eating.

The look on your face as your hands stop short... the bewildered look on your features brings a laugh from his lips. Watching you struggle just to reach your breakfast is cruel, yet you seem to make the cutest faces. He'll let you flounder and try for a few minutes before he moves the plate closer to you.

You can see the way they smile. Hear them laughing as you struggle. Your fingers come within just a few inches. The man, Lucifer, has done it on purpose for their amusement.

You clench your fist before scooting back to where you had started. You won't give them satisfaction of struggling just for scraps. You have nothing left but your dignity, and you'll hold onto that for as long as you can.

"Seems she's chosen to go hungry." Lucifer smirks. "A shame her pride will not let her eat."

"You would do much the same." Diavolo raises his brows to the man before he stands and stretches his tired muscles.

"I would have already freed myself. I've left her the tools to do as such." He shrugs.

Diavolo hadn't missed it. A knife sharper than a woman of your caliber should handle rest on the plate along with the food. You've been glancing back at it off and on for a full thirty seconds now.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you scoot yourself to the end of your rope. Pride, dignity thrown to the wind as you attempt to grab your breakfast. He doesn't miss the way you pull your nightgown up your thighs and stretch your leg out to slowly scoot the plate just a bit closer.

He can't help but feel dissapointed when you drop your gown back down, though watching you dive for the knife does bring a smile to his face.

You glance over to them, you've no idea that they still watch you from their peripheral vision as you start to cut the binds that hold you.

"For God's sake, she's cutting towards herself." Lucifer sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'll not be held responsible if your precious prize kills themselves trying to escape." He shakes his head.

Diavolo slowly strides to you, your so caught up and desperate to escape you don't even hear him come up behind you. It isn't until his hand reaches out quickly and steals the blade from your fingers that you realize how close he is.

He turns the knife in his hands and you can't help but close your eyes tightly.

He grabs your hands, the pressure of his touch makes your fingers sting, circulation slowly returns as your bindings now lay on the ground.

Your eyes look up to him in question, confusion on your face as you scoot back from him. Diavolo grabs the plate and you. Pulling you up by the arm he drags you with him to besides the fire. "It's a wonder you did not cut yourself. Your hands are in no condition to be handling sharp objects."

Kicking the log he had been resting on closer to the fire, he let's go of your arm for a moment to remove his own coat and place it around your shoulders. He turns you quickly towards the fire before pulling you down to rest on his lap as he places your plate on your thighs.

Beel watches as your face flushes and he laughs outloud. You even try to cover your face and it just makes it better. "You should eat. Barbatos makes great stuff."

"You could befriend a tree..." His older brother sighs as he looks away.

"It's not her fault for being born to who she was. You can't pick your parents. You know that as well as I do." He shrugs.

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "I'm going to change the feeding bags."

The man's words bring little comfort as you now sit on the other man's lap. You've never sat so intimately with someone, let alone a man! It's not proper and years of etiquette are screaming at you to remove yourself. His arms are securely around your waist, his grasp on you won't budge, you've already learned that from hours of riding with him, but atleast on the horse you were a few inches from him! Just infront of him and not on him!

His deep laugh rumbles through your back as his thumb slowly traces your side. "Surely this is not your first time sitting with a man?"

He feels you tense and it gives him his answer. You were a princess after all, and a bastard one at that. It makes sense that you would have never know such intimate things as this in your life. The thought sends a small shiver down his spine, "Is my little princess a virgin?"

You can't help but tense in his arms again. Men only asked such questions for ghastly reasons... He laughs again and his large hands pull your hands from your face. "You've no reason to worry, we've not yet reached my lands."

You move to leave his embrace, but he holds you tighter to his lap.

He knows he is being crude, especially for a woman of your status, but he can't help himself. Your embarrassment, the shyness... it's endearing, adorable even.

Who would have thought Lucifer would bring him such a delightful prize. A small virgin princess, just for him. You make the cutest face when he riles you and as you squirm against him your completely clueless as to how your ass is wriggling so deliciously on his now hardening cock.

He had planned to make you a maid. Make you labor and work long hours for meager earnings, only half of what he paid his own staff... but as you squirm in his embrace his mind begins to shift...there are other roles you could fill...

He pulls you closer, and looking up reveals that Beel and Barbatos have both made themselves scarce. Holding you tightly around your lower waist, he uses his free hand to grip your chin as his finger traces your lips. The gasp you let out is just so cute and your lips are soft. Supple and warm against the morning chill and he can't help but let his finger linger a bit longer as it traces your lips.

"You'll have a choice to make when we reach my lands." He knows it isn't really a choice, but your just a naive woman... it gives the illusion of choice and he would be remiss if he didn't admit he wanted to hear you say it... "You can be used for my soilders. Passed around my barracks as a stress reliever for my men after such a hard fought siege when they arrive back to my lands, or you can reside in my home. I'll offer you protections. You'll be cared for, have three meals a day, even sleep safely in my bed with me." He can't help the satisfied hum that leaves him as you try to break free again and rub so salaciously against him. You've likely no idea the beast you've awoken in your efforts to flee, and teasing you in such a way... your so innocent and pure, unaware of the harshness of the world around you. He can't help it but be a bit cruel to you, the need to feel you squirm against his cock is more than he can handle. It's been ages since he's laid with a woman and you're just so absolutely cute, his virginal little prize of war.

"So tell me, my dear, which do you think you will choose? The women sent into the barrack after battle are often used so roughly. The men seek only release and their pleasures." His information makes you freeze. While he misses the friction on his cock, it means you understand his words. "A virginal prize of war would drive them mad with lust. Not a single soilder would pass you over. You'd likely be on your back for days under their whims..."

He can feel your pulse race as his finger traces from your lips down your neck. The sheer amount of fright he's instilled does leave him with some guilt, but it will get him the answer he desires. "Or would you rather spend your days cared for? Warm baths, a staff that would see to your every need. You'd only know the touches of one man, not be ravaged and used until your broken by man after man for days at a time."

He let's out a sigh. In his need to tease you he's taken it to far as tears hit his arm. He hadn't meant to make you cry. Just to scare you a bit and choose the answer he wanted.

His guilt takes hold as he slowly releases you. You make no move to flee this time. Perhaps you've figured out that it is useless, maybe the fright has rendered you immobile.

"The choice is yours, my dear." He stands and helps to slowly slide you from him. Your ass dragging against his erection makes him want to hiss in pleasure, but he holds it in as he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you softly back down. His coat has slid from your shoulders and he can see them shake as you silently hold yourself.

The morning sun against your gown... it's almost see through with how sheer it is. Eyes wandering down your back, landing on your panties that lay under your gown. The patterns of delicate lace that you wear make his heavy cock twitch in his trousers as he turns away to leave you.

Once he calms himself, he finds Lucifer by the horses. "Would your horse be able to run the rest of the way?"

Lucifer raises his brows as he studies Diavolos face. "Perhaps with a bit more rest and water. Atleast thirty more minutes." His eyes slide from his horse back to his King. It's odd, being able to finally think of him as such. It's been years coming, yet the oddness will most likely linger.

"Excellent."

"What do you have planned?" His voice holds suspicion.

"I wish you to ride with the princess to the homelands. Before entering the city walls, make her bathe in the lake and wash. Throw her in and retrieve her if you must. From there, ride to my home as planned, but take the long way. Through the barracks."

"You've lost your mind. The men will pull her from the horse in a moment. Only women brought to the barracks are those that are willing to be paid for use."

"Then it is good that I'll be sending such a precious prize with one of my most talented and resounding warriors." He smirks.

"I simply should have ran her through." He sighs as he pets his horses neck.

"Have your brother Asmodeus tend to her. She'll be ready with my answer by time I return."

"What would that be?" He scoffs.

He just gives a smile as he claps Lucifer on the shoulder. "Thank you, my friend."

Lucifer rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his horse.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! diavolo #obey me! lord diavolo #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #diavolo #diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #lord diavolo x mc #lord diavolo x reader

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staygoldwriting · 2 years

Note

Could I request something where it’s like early to mid 90s evryone has graduated and has their established lives (in or out of Hawkins) and reader runs into Eddie. They were aware of each other in high school but not to the point they ever said more then a few words here and there or hung out. But they are older now and they start to blossom a relationship with each other :)

Hello, my dear! I have poured myself into this story, and I have enjoyed writing it so much! Warning: It's a long one! I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

Word count: ~4.8k

Warnings: Mentions of Chrissy's death and past trauma of Eddie and the reader, a dog has a cut (he's 100% okay!!!), another character is pregnant, all fluff per usual 💕

🐾 Puppy Love 🐾

As Eddie drove into Hawkins in October 1993, seven years after the tragedies of ‘86, he felt uneasy. Even though the painful trial proved his innocence, the citizens of Hawkins could not shake their suspicion and hate for him, and he was relentlessly taunted and hated by most except those who knew the truth. He needed a new start, so he moved to the city, but when he heard that his uncle Wayne was unwell, he decided it was time to return to care for him.

Steve offered his home for Eddie to stay in while he adjusted; Eddie discussed the idea of staying with Wayne, but he simply didn’t have the room. Besides, Eddie was looking forward to catching up with his old “buddy” again and seeing what he had been doing these past years.

As Eddie glanced down at the map and Steve’s address, he arrived at the little suburban house. Pulling into the driveway, Steve emerged from the front door, smiling widely and shaking his head with his hands, as always, on his hips.

“Eddie Munson!” he yelled. “Get over here!”

Eddie grinned widely and hugged Steve, clapping him firmly on the back.

“Nice to see you, man,” Eddie said.

“You too,” Steve smiled. “Let’s get your stuff.”

Eddie didn’t have much, so he brought everything with him, keeping his essentials in a few duffel bags and the rest in boxes to be unpacked later if he decided the move needed to be permanent.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you and Amanda, it means a lot,” Eddie said, lugging two duffels into the house.

“Hey, no problem, man, it’s our pleasure,” Steve replied. “And here’s my beautiful wife now!”

Amanda Emerson, now Harrington, came downstairs to greet her guest, her pregnant belly taking up most of her body. Eddie smiled in shock, holding his hands out.

“Amanda! It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe it!” he said, hugging her then looking at her belly. “May I?” he asked, holding his hands toward her belly.

“Please!” she said as Eddie placed his hand on her stomach, instantly feeling a kick.

“Looks like he recognizes his namesake,” Amanda smirked, and Eddie gazed at her with wide eyes.

“No way,” he said, shocked.

“Yes way,” Amanda mimicked his tone. “If Steve had never come to visit you in the city, we would have never met! You deserve it,” she said, smirking.

“I’m honored,” Eddie said bashfully.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get you settled,” Steve smiled. “Your room is upstairs and to the left.”

Eddie entered the neat guest room and smiled at the fresh blue sheets, the big window overlooking the street, and the small tv atop the dresser. He placed his duffel bags down and opened some drawers, organizing his things. Steve joined, hanging things in the closet and taking his toiletries to the adjoining bathroom.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Steve asked. “Man, you still have this?”

Eddie looked over to see Steve holding his Hellfire t-shirt, which was filled with holes and stains.

“How could I not?” Eddie chuckled. “It’s basically a relic.”

“You still play?”

“Not really. I don’t have many D&D-playing friends outside of Hawkins, as you could guess,” Eddie smiled crookedly. “As for the plan, I’m going to see Wayne and then walk around for a bit, visit some old haunts.”

“Sounds good. Dinner will be at six thirty tonight, so make sure you’re back by then,” Steve said, then faced Eddie with a smirk. “Henderson’s coming tonight. He’s gonna wet his pants when he sees you!”

“No way, Henderson?” Eddie asked, overjoyed. “I haven’t seen him since he started college.”

“I know, he’s been a busy guy,” Steve said. “Alright, I think you’re all set in here. Do you need anything else from us?”

“I think I’m good for now, I just have to pick up a few groceries.”

“Eddie, man, this is your house now. You don’t need separate groceries,” Steve said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Steve, but I don’t want to impose,” Eddie said cautiously.

“You’re not an imposition,” Amanda said, peeking into the door. “I overheard,” she shrugged.

“Thanks, you guys, really,” Eddie smiled.

“It’s our pleasure. It’s really good to have you back, Eddie, I mean it,” Steve said seriously, bringing him into a hug.

“Steve’s right. And if Wayne needs anything, we’re here to help,” Amanda added. Eddie gave her a side hug and thanked her, then grabbed his jacket to head out to the old trailer park.

-🐾-

“Hey, Wayne,” Eddie called as he entered the trailer.

Wayne was sitting on the couch, playing a card game with Max. They both smiled brightly as they saw Eddie.

“My boy,” Wayne smiled, tears gathering in his eyes. Max helped him get up as he walked over to Eddie, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“It’s good to see you, Wayne,” Eddie said, tears coming out of his eyes too.

“Hey, Eddie,” Max said quietly, and Eddie grabbed her in a big hug.

“What’s up, Mayfield?” he laughed, holding her. “Thanks for taking care of Wayne while I’ve been gone,” he said.

“Anytime, we have fun together,” she smiled. “That is, when he’s not kicking my butt in gin.”

“Years of experience, Maxie, years of experience,” Wayne chuckled.

“So, Wayne,” Eddie began, “I wanted to come talk to you about--”

“Not now, my boy,” Wayne said, holding a hand up. “If you’re here to move back for me, then buy me a house and let’s not say another word about it,” he smiled softly.

“Sounds good, Wayne,” Eddie chuckled. “You do seem well.”

“I am well! Who told you I’m not?” Wayne asked suspiciously.

“You,” Eddie laughed. “And Max.”

“Maxine!” Wayne gasped in mockery.

Wayne had been feeling sick for some time, but he was afraid to frighten his nephew. His breathing had become more labor after working for more years than he could afford. His life was always simple: wake up, work, eat, go to sleep, repeat. Now in his older age, he was struggling to work with the same vigor, and he was being sent home from work regularly. It was time for him to retire, and Max’s greatest hope was that Eddie could convince him to do so.

The trio spent some quality time together, mainly playing gin while chatting. Eddie unearthed his old skills and won six games out of ten, shocking his uncle. As five o’clock rolled around, Eddie promised that he would see them tomorrow, but he needed to be back at Steve’s for dinner and still needed to run some errands. They said their goodbyes, and Eddie felt comforted knowing that Max would take care of Wayne in his absence.

-🐾-

Driving into the main Hawkins square, Eddie parked his car in front of the Hawkins Post. Nancy Wheeler, now Byers, was walking out, and upon seeing Eddie, ran to hug him.

“Eddie!” she called, hugging him tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Nancy! I’m here visiting Wayne,” he explained. “How are you? How’s Johnathan and Barbara?”

“They’re well! Jonathan has been busy with work, and Barbara just took her first steps!”

“That’s great,” Eddie smiled. “The last family picture you sent me is beautiful, I’m so happy for you, Nance.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Nancy smiled. “Anyone in your life?”

“No, the whole ‘freak’ persona isn’t exactly a chick magnet,” he chuckled.

“Well, the ‘good guy with a heart of gold’ persona usually works, so don’t lose hope,” Nancy smirked. “Will you come to dinner sometime this week? I know we’d all love to see you.”

“That’d be great, Nancy, thank you,” Eddie replied. “I’m staying at Steve’s, so you can call for me there.”

“Sounds good,” Nancy smiled. “Well, I have to get home, but I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, see you soon,” Eddie smiled as Nancy kissed his cheek.

Nancy drove away as Eddie walked down the street to the convenience store. He had run out of toothpaste just before his trip, and then his comb broke while in his suitcase. As he exited, he saw a dog, maybe a couple years old, hobble toward him.

“Oh, what happened, little guy?” Eddie asked, bending down to look at the dog. The little dog limped over to Eddie’s outstretched hand, sniffing it. His front leg had a cut on it, and he was obviously a stray, so Eddie took it upon himself to care for him.

“Let’s get you to a vet, buddy,” he said, scooping the dog up in his arms.

Eddie walked down two blocks and arrived at the veterinary clinic. Pushing open the doors, he told the receptionist what had happened, then she assured him that the vet would be out in one minute to help. As he waited, he comforted the dog and scratched his ears, and the dog reciprocated by giving Eddie’s hand a lick of thanks. Soon enough, he heard you, the vet, come out.

“Who has the stray dog?” you asked the receptionist, then looked at Eddie sitting nervously in the chair. You smiled in disbelief, a rush of emotions flooding your chest and making your heart skip a beat.

“Eddie Munson?” you asked quietly. He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

-🐾-

You and Eddie had gone to high school together. You were best friends with Chrissy, and she had opened up to you about her fears and how she was going to seek out Eddie’s help.

“I know it’s madness, but I just can’t deal with this anymore, Y/N,” Chrissy cried to you.

“It’s not madness, Chrissy. Eddie’s not a bad guy, and I’m sure he’ll be able to help.”

“I hope so.”

When Chrissy died, your heart was shattered. You were the main person who organized the gatherings to honor her, unlike Jason, who was hunting Eddie. You were on the frontlines after the earthquake hit, helping people reestablish their lives and finding ways to honor those who were lost. You supported Wayne as Eddie endured the terrible and long trial. One day, when Eddie was finally free and back with Wayne, you decided to pay him a visit.

“Eddie?” you said as he opened the door. “Can we talk?”

“Listen, it wasn’t me, I swear,” Eddie began to argue, tears gathering in his eyes. “I would never--”

“I know,” you said quickly. “Eddie, I never, ever thought you killed Chrissy.”

“Really?”

“Really. I-I know you’re a good person, Eddie. You care about people, and Chrissy called me after she met with you in the woods. She told me how kind you were, how sweet and understanding you are. I-I tried to tell people, the judge, the lawyers, anyone who would listen, but they didn’t, and I just wanted to help you--”

“Y/N,” Eddie said slowly, holding your arms. “You saying that and you trying is more than anyone in Hawkins has ever done for me. Thank you. Not everyone would defend someone they barely know, let alone a freak like me.”

“You’re not a freak,” you said, holding his hands that were still resting on your arms.

“I wish there were more people like you in this world, Y/L/N.”

“Same to you, Munson,” you smiled. “And I wish we could’ve been better friends in high school. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime, you know, when I’m not in college.”

“I think I might need to get out of here,” Eddie admitted.

“I understand. Take care of yourself, Eddie.”

“You too, Y/N.”

-🐾-

“I can’t believe you’re a vet now,” Eddie smiled. “It makes sense, though. You always liked helping those who were hard to understand.”

“So, you remember me,” you blushed.

“Of course I do,” Eddie gasped. “You’re one of the few people in Hawkins who’s actually nice. Your heart is too good for people.”

“Ha, you’re as sweet as I remember,” you smirk. “Come on, let’s get your little friend to the back for some TLC.”

Eddie carried Buddy, as he had now named him, to the back, following you to a small room. Placing him on the table, you put some gloves on and took a look at his paw.

“Okay, pup, let’s see what’s going on,” you said, gently dabbing at his paw.

“I found him like this, just hobbling around,” Eddie said sadly, and you nodded.

“It doesn’t look that bad, and it’s fresh, so it’s really good you brought him here. If he spent the night alone with this cut, he might have been looking at an infection. Good job,” you smiled.

“Thanks,” Eddie blushed. “So, you can help him?”

“Yes, definitely,” you said, grabbing some supplies. “I’m going to stitch him up, but I think he also needs a bath.”

“Okay, thank you, Dr. Y/N,” Eddie said sweetly.

“Of course, Eddie. I’ll be right back,” you said, carrying Buddy out of the room. “There are some magazines behind you if you want to read something, and I also have a stash of candy in that cabinet,” you said, pointing to the upper right cabinet.

“Human candy?” Eddie chuckled.

“Yes, human candy,” you laughed.

Soon enough, Buddy was all stitched up and bathed, and you brought him back to Eddie, who smiled brightly.

“Thank you again, Y/N,” he smiled. “Is there any way I can adopt him?”

“Yeah, I’ll get some paperwork for him,” you said, giving Buddy a pet.

As you left, you smiled to yourself, gathering the paperwork. Seeing Eddie again made you feel warm, but it also made you remember your tragic connection. You were happy to see him well, but your gut lurched thinking of how the rest of Hawkins would receive him. Returning to the room, you handed Eddie the paperwork, a collar, and a little bit of dog food.

“Just some essentials,” you explained. “I have a few other things in the front like dog bowls and a few toys I can send home with you. In terms of the paperwork, just fill it out as best you can. I hope your uncle enjoys him too.”

“Oh, I’m actually staying with Steve Harrington,” Eddie replied. “Should probably pass this by him, huh?” he chuckled.

“I didn’t know you’re friends with Steve,” you said with surprise.

“Yeah, we ran in different circles back in the day, but after the earthquake and the trial, we sorta put our differences aside,” Eddie explained, trying to hide the real truth. “But this dog might put us back a few years,” he laughed.

“Would you like him to stay with me?” you offered. “Just until you talk it over with Steve. You’re welcome to visit him anytime you’d like.”

“Could you?” Eddie asked, smiling. “That would be amazing, thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you smiled back. “I’ll go ahead and take him home today and get him adjusted, and you can stop by tomorrow to see him. I actually live a couple doors down from Steve, so it shouldn’t be far.”

“Thanks again,” Eddie said, then gathered some confidence. “Can I buy you some dinner tomorrow, as a thank you? I’d really like to catch up too, if you’d like.”

“I would love that, Eddie,” you blushed.

“Okay, it’s a date! I mean, if you want it to be,” he looked up at you bashfully.

“Definitely,” you nodded enthusiastically, then wrote your number down on a piece of paper, handing it to him. “Just in case,” you winked.

-🐾-

Eddie arrived home around six thirty, sneaking in just before Dustin pulled into the driveway. He waited by the door as a now grown-up Dustin walked up, knocking enthusiastically. He hadn’t seen Steve since the summer, so Dustin couldn’t wait to be reunited with his old buddy.

Eddie opened the door when Dustin knocked, grinning widely as he watched Dustin’s face change from confusion to shock, then to pure joy.

“What’s up, Henderson!” Eddie yelled, stretching his arms out.

“EDDIE?!” Dustin yelled, running into his arms. “Oh my gosh, dude! What’re you doing here?”

“I’m visiting my uncle, but I might also be moving back for good!”

“For good? Dude! Please come back, we miss you so much!”

“I miss you guys too, but half the town probably still hates me.”

“Oh, come on,” Dustin scoffed, walking into the house. Eddie followed him to the kitchen, where Steve and Amanda were cooking.

“Hey, Dustin,” Amanda smiled, hugging him tightly. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You too, Amanda,” Dustin greeted, then turned to Steve and extended his hand. “Mr. Harrington.”

“Get over here, you weirdo!” Steve yelled, grabbing Dustin and almost suffocating him with a hug. The two laughed, instantly back to their old ways.

-🐾-

“What a great dinner, thanks, Amanda!” Eddie said, puffing out his stomach. “I gotta go check on my dog now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Your what?” Steve asked, laughing.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, I got a dog today,” Eddie said nonchalantly.

“Where is it?” Amanda asked.

“He’s with Y/N Y/L/N,” Eddie replied simply.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Steve asked in disbelief, and Eddie nodded.

“Dude,” Dustin said.

“What?” Eddie chuckled.

“She’s like--” Steve started.

“Beautiful,” Dustin breathed.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie said slowly. “But she’s also the vet who took care of him when I found him. He was a stray and he had a cut, so I took him there. I saw Y/N, we caught up for a bit, then she offered to keep Buddy with her until I settled and talked it over with you and Amanda, Steve.”

“She offered to watch him?” Steve asked, shocked.

“Yeah, she’s a vet and she’s nice, why wouldn’t she want a dog in her house?” Eddie was so confused.

“The question is why does she want your dog in her house,” Dustin commented. “She’s into you, there’s no other explanation.”

“There are a thousand explanations,” Eddie reasoned. “She knows how Wayne has been, so she knows he can’t stay with him.”

“But Max could take care of Buddy,” Amanda pointed out. “For once in their lives, I think these two are right, Eddie.”

Eddie sat still for a second, blushing. He pulled out the piece of paper he had stuffed in his pocket and looked at it. Call me if you need anything, Y/N <3 (xxx) xxx-xxxx.

“What’s that?” Steve asked, snatching the note out of Eddie’s hand. “There’s a heart on it!” he yelled, and Dustin took it next.

“With her number! She lives two doors down, why would you need her number?”

“To call her late at night and romance her,” Steve teased.

“It’s not like that,” Eddie sighed.

“Oh? So you’re just gonna go over there to see the dog and not say a word to her?” Amanda smirked, high-fiving Steve.

“Well, we have a dinner date tomorrow.”

“A dinner what?” Dustin screeched. “You need a haircut! What’s the best outfit you brought? Did you clean it properly? Do you have plenty of dental floss?”

“Dustin, chill!” Eddie yelled. “We’re having dinner, that’s it.”

“But… it’s a date, right?” Amanda asked cautiously.

“Yes. It’s a date. We said so,” Eddie sighed.

“Don’t get us wrong, man,” Steve said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re really happy for you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, you guys, I’m just so nervous.”

“You don’t need to be nervous, you’re dealing with one of the kindest people in Hawkins. I remember when you told me what she said after the trial was over,” Steve said. “She’s not a faker, she meant it.”

“She’s asked me about you before,” Dustin said. “She knew we were in Hellfire together, and every once in a while, she’d drop by Hawkins High for whatever, and she’d see me and ask how you were. She seemed happy to hear you were doing well, but once or twice, it looked like she really missed you. Like she wanted you to come home.”

“Oh, come on, man, you’re just saying that,” Eddie dismissed.

“Well, let’s go see then, shall we?” Dustin said, rising from his seat.

“What?” Eddie asked, confused.

“You have to see your dog, right? I’m coming with you and I’m showing you--” Dustin pushed a finger into Eddie’s chest, “that she’s into you.”

-🐾-

Eddie tapped his hands nervously on his sides as Dustin knocked on your dog. They heard soft barking and your hushing tone, then the door unlocked. As you opened it, Eddie admired you in your everyday clothes instead of your scrubs. You were wearing basic jeans, big slouchy wool socks, and an oatmeal sweater that was also very bulky. Your hair was still tied up, and you were smiling widely with Buddy in your arms.

“Hey, Eddie! Look, Buddy, Dada is here!” you giggled, petting Buddy’s head. Dustin nudged Eddie, winking.

“Hi, Y/N, I hope it’s okay I came too,” Dustin smiled. “I wanted to meet Buddy.”

“Of course, Dustin, it’s great to see you! Both of you, come in, sit down!” you smiled, welcoming them into your living room. As Eddie sat, you placed Buddy into his arms.

“How’s he been?” Eddie asked you.

“He’s good! He’s adjusting to the house well so far, only a couple accidents, but that’s okay! They happen,” you smiled sweetly.

“Thanks again for watching him,” Eddie smiled. “I told Steve about him, and I think he might come around.”

“Oh, I didn’t get that at all!” Dustin said loudly. “I mean, Amanda’s pregnant, you’re here, Steve’s always at work, I mean, it would be madness!” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

“Sounds like Steve’s just trying to be nice, Eddie,” you replied. “Buddy is welcome to stay as long as he likes, and he can even come to work with me if you’re busy during the day.”

“Okay, but I can run it by Steve one more time if--”

“Eddie!” Dustin interrupted. “Y/N has been kind enough to share her home! And besides, Buddy might be a good opportunity for you two to catch up,” he smirked.

“Exactly, you said it yourself, Eddie!” you said. “I think it’ll be great to get to know each other more. I always regretted not talking to you more in high school.”

Eddie smiled, blushing at the comment.

“Same here, Y/N.”

“How about we start now? You guys want some hot chocolate?” you offered.

“I need to get back to Steve, but I’ll let him know you’re staying, Eddie,” Dustin smiled, waving goodbye.

“Guess I’m staying,” Eddie shrugged, smiling.

“You don’t have to,” you said.

“No, I want to,” he said, looking at you. “I’m still sort of in shock that we ran into each other like this.”

“Same here, I’m glad you’re back,” you said, handing him a mug. “How did everything go today? Were people kind to you?”

“For the most part,” Eddie said, sipping his hot chocolate. “This is good,” he chuckled.

“Good, on both counts. So, what are you doing these days?”

“I’ve been working as an electrician, actually. When I left Hawkins, I found a trade school, and people sure do need it these days. There’s a lot more tech than when we were kids.”

“I know, it’s overwhelming sometimes,” you said, looking down. “You know, we don’t have an electrician here in Hawkins. You have to call the guy two towns over. It’s a tough commute for him, and you don’t have the convenience of somewhere near to help. Just something to consider.”

“I see,” Eddie smiled. “Maybe I’ll have to stick around after all. I just want to get my uncle retired and out of that old trailer.”

“Does he have anyone else to live with?”

“No. He’s been spending time with Max Mayfield, but she’s just as stuck in the park as he is. That’s why I think I might need to move back. Wayne needs a house, he needs his family back. When I left, he had energy, motivation, but now, I--”

“I understand,” you said, holding his hand. “It’s really difficult seeing the ones you care about suffer.”

“Chrissy?” Eddie asked, looking into your eyes.

“Yes… and no,” you said, trying to hide the fact that your heart was racing.

Eddie maintained eye contact, taking a deep breath in. He reached up to cup your face gently, then leaned in. You did the same, meeting your lips in a brief kiss. As you pulled away, you laughed softly, smiling.

“Did I forget to mention I’ve had a major crush on you since middle school?” you admitted.

“You don’t say,” he smirked. “So, my flunking out for two years must have been a real treat for you, huh?”

“I’m not above saying yes.”

-🐾-

“You kissed her?”

Eddie was sitting on the counter as Amanda was scooping ice cream. He was dangling his feet like a child, recounting the night to her, Steve, and Dustin. All three of them smiled at him brightly, clearly happy to see this new development take shape.

“And you’re seeing her tomorrow?” Dustin asked, piling sprinkles on top of his vanilla ice cream.

“Yeah, I think I’ll take her to Enzo’s,” Eddie said bashfully.

“Nice job, big boy,” Steve teased, wiping chocolate ice cream from his mouth. “What are you gonna wear?”

“I don’t know yet, but I can’t tell if I’m shaking from excitement or nerves,” Eddie chuckled.

“It’s definitely both,” Amanda smiled.

-🐾-

You were waiting outside of Enzo’s, wearing your favorite blue dress with long sleeves and a low scooped back. You wore a black jacket on top and black boots since it was too cold for heels. Besides, you never liked heels that much anyway.

Eddie soon pulled up, tumbling out of the van with a bouquet of flowers, smiling widely. He was wearing one of Steve’s button-down shirts, plain black pants, and his leather jacket.

“Hey, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” he said, then offered you the flowers. “These are for you.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you said, kissing his cheek and accepting the flowers. “Where did you find peonies this time of year?”

“I have my ways,” he smirked. “Shall we?” he offered his arm.

“We shall,” you smiled, wrapping your arm around his.

Your dinner was even better than your past interactions. You laughed, shared stories, ate delicious food (which you also shared), and felt completely comfortable with him. You both never stopped smiling, even when going through your past pains, feeling like Eddie understood your struggles, and you his. You had never felt such a strong connection to someone, and the warmth in your stomach remained constant. As you all finished, you took a walk around the Hawkins square, arm-in-arm.

“This has been an amazing night,” you said, leaning into his shoulder. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Well, technically we’ve known of each other for over twenty years, but I know what you mean,” he smiled.

“Hawkins seems to like you,” you said softly, making Eddie blush.

“I think they like me by association, but I appreciate the compliment,” he chuckled.

“Stay,” you said quietly.

“Yeah?” he asked, stopping and turning to face you.

“Yeah,” you said shakily. “I-I really want you to stay.”

Eddie kissed your forehead, smiling softly, feeling the same warmth.

-🐾-

(Two years later)

Eddie was walking down the street after a long day of work. Hawkins Post had a power outage, so Eddie spent the majority of the day there. Packing his trunk with his tools, he took a sip of water as Buddy bounded towards him.

“Hey, Buddy!” Eddie greeted. “How was your day, boy?”

“Sorry, Eddie!” you yelled, coming to put Buddy’s leash back on his collar. “He slipped away, again,” you sighed, laughing.

“My little runaway,” he laughed. “I still can’t believe you kept him.”

“I know,” you said in mock disbelief. “And would you believe his owner moved in too?”

“No!” Eddie replied, mocking your tone.

“Yeah!” you countered. “He came in with all his boxes, even moved his uncle in too! And you know what he gives me instead of rent?”

“What?” Eddie said playfully.

“This!” you said, holding up your hand to show a wedding ring. “The nerve of some people.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Eddie sighed. “I moved into some woman’s house, and she didn’t even give me my own room. She gave me one of those too,” he said, showing his wedding ring.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” you said, kissing him, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Same here, Dr. Munson.”

🐾❤️

#staygoldwriting #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things eddie #eddiemunson #stranger things #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson x female reader

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alex-ackerman-11 · 1 year

Text

Golden Ring

Summary: Hydra threatens you to kidnap Bucky again, your boyfriend, so you have no choice but to obey, since you would do everything for him.

Warnings: rage, anxiety (a lot), blood, self-mutilation, fighting. The reader has low self-esteem.

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Another punch came into your face, all bloody and ruined. Your hands were attached behind your back with handcuffs.

"did you understand?, fag?"

"y-yeah, i did!"

"can't hear you!"

"¡YES I UNDERSTAND!"

"that's a good boy"

He patted your head and made a sign with his head to his companions to release you. You fell to the ground immediately feeling how sleep took over your whole body, trembling and bleeding. You gave yourself over to the darkness, too tired to try to escape this horrible place.

...

Listening to repetitive sounds in the distance, it becomes difficult for you to breathe and your body began to ache in different areas. You opened your eyes as soon as you could, you couldn't recognize the place until a couple of seconds passed, you were on a stretcher, probably in the Avengers complex. for a second you were glad they had found you, but then again, the deal you were forced to accept invaded your mind.

How could you accept something like that? You were going to betray your companions, you were going to give them away. You felt like an idiot, a fucking idiot, however, was it okay that this was all to protect your boyfriend, bucky? . You loved him so much and you knew that he had been through so much in his time on Hydra, just as he knew about your mental problems and how much you fought with your powers to control them and not hurt anyone.

They were going to hate you when they found out, they would hate you so much, but could they understand? It was for love, protection. You didn't want Bucky to suffer again like he did before, he didn't deserve that, but with what you were about to do, you deserved his hate. What will happen to Bucky when he finds out too? It is obvious that he will finish you instantly, he will beat you up? Your teammates will kick you out of the team? It is the most logical thing that came to your mind. You were going to ruin everything you built for years with them and with your boyfriend, to protect him.

So many thoughts ran through your mind at great speed, however they were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you met the person you were thinking of, your boyfriend.

"Hi, how are you feeling, love?"

"I'm okey" you lied, you didn't wanted to worry Bucky. You're already a mess.

"I worried a lot, honey. You can't imagine, the only idea of you being tortured by Hydra is...."

Bucky sighed shakily, lowering his head and running his human hand over his eyes, you noticed they were a little red, he must have been crying a little. I lift my head to look at you and smile, leaning down to leave a lasting kiss on your forehead.

"You can't train and go to missions for a while"

"I can't have a problem with that, I would like to rest"

Bucky laughed and lay down beside him, putting his arms around you, even though you always felt loved by his side. You still felt like an idiot because of the way you were going to betray everyone, you were going to try to explain to Bucky after it's all over, he would have to understand, right? He would do shit for you, right?

Your gaze fell on the gold ring you both shared, a constant reminder of your love and commitment to your relationship.

"if either of us has a problem, we have to promise to listen first, no matter what"

And again, you felt guilty, the worst person in the world, you didn't deserve Bucky.

...

"We'll be back for the night love, I promise. Nothing can't happens, we have everything planned, we got them, those sons of bitch."

He smiled at you seeing your worried face, you still have some bruises on your face that were healing quickly by your powers.

"can you promise me something, bucky?"

"of course love, what is it?"

"Whenever there is a misunderstanding between us, let's talk first"

"I promise doll, this is my promise" I raise my ring finger, showing the gold ring.

You smiled at him and then you kiss, before Bucky got on the plane. Now to expect the worst.

You sent the message to a Hydra agent on a phone they gave you. After sending it, you threw the phone in the trash, then locked yourself in your shared room with Bucky, you were very anxious, playing with your hands, the anti-stress toys that Bucky had given you days after meeting you. You decided to take a bath to relax, it worked, miraculously. Leaving the bathroom, you saw yourself in the mirror, you already had a little weeks beard. Maybe it was time to make a change so you could kill some time.

When you finished shaving, they still hadn't returned, you took your time in the shower and also shaving, along with the time you spent in bed staring at the ceiling nervously, they were taking their time. It was supposed to be a well-planned mission, but as you already knew, something did go wrong. Very bad.

You went to the kitchen for some food and to make a cake, they were tremendously anxious than you have ever been in your entire life, eating and cooking should at least take up your time and distract you, instead of constantly scratching your arms leaving red marks that threatened to bleed. First you ate some bread along with some juice, then you got busy preparing the ingredients to bake the cake, after all Steve's birthday was near, he was a very good friend of yours and bucky had no problem with that, since He loved how you got along with his best friend. You prepared, you put it in the oven, you decorated the cake and you waited more, you even had time to change your wounds, face, chest, torso and arms.

It was already night, you were about to call Bucky, when golden I saw the Avengers ship land. You went to greet them, hoping that nothing too bad had happened, maybe you were right, since none of them were dead, but when you saw a stretcher come out with Sam on it, unconscious and probably near death, you realized a mind blow. Steve, helping Peter walk, you saw his face, it was obvious he took a beating.

You ran over to Bucky, who was talking to Natasha, asking if she was okay, they both directed their tired gaze at you.

"Are you both okay?" Bucky sighed a little wearily and hugged you tightly. "We're fine love but... everything went terribly wrong, it seems that everything was a trap"

"I don't understand" Natasha seemed very angry, "What went wrong? Why did they already know we were going to attack?"

"Guys" Steve approached "we have to meet, I have to tell him something very important, it can't wait, hurry up". Natasha immediately followed him and you stayed with Bucky.

"You shaved" Bucky ran his hand over your smooth face, you smiled, knowing that this was possibly one of the last interactions you could have with him in the next few days. "I like it, you look very cute" he smiled and kissed your cheek, your lip trembled, you definitely didn't deserve Bucky, he deserved someone better than you, the team deserved someone better than you. Inside your mind you were already imagining your future as an outcast and the most hated person in the avengers, possibly you were going to be killed for treason, or maybe Fury would lock you up for life, you didn't want to live locked up until you died, so you started to organize your ideas in your mind to escape and change your identity.

"w-we have to go to the meeting" you stuttered, angry, sad and disgusted with yourself, feeling a jumble of emotions in your stomach, you already felt the food you ate a couple of hours ago slowly go up your esophagus.

"Are you okay doll?"

"Just remember that I love you, i love you Bucky"

"aww I love you too doll. Let's go"

Everyone was sitting up now, except for Sam and Peter, who were recovering. Steve started the meeting.

"As you know, they already knew we were on our way to attack them, but for some reason, someone warned them, someone who knew our plans" Bucky took your hand, at least he's here, he wasn't kidnapped again to be the one winter soldier, he didn't deserve that. "we have an infiltrator in the team" you swallowed when you noticed that he directed his gaze to you, consequently now everyone was looking at you "and that traitor is at this table" your heart ached when bucky let go of your hand and got up from the chair to get away from you. "Do you have any explanation for us, agent y/l/n?"

"Steve, what are you talking about?

"I mean y/n, your boyfriend, betrayed us. He send our plans and location to Hydra. May we know how long you've been doing this?" the increase in her tone made you tremble, you were already slightly savoring the taste of vomit in your mouth.

"Please guys, Bucky, you have to listen to me and understand, I did it because..."

"Did you really do it?"

"Bucky... love"

"Shit! You're a shit y/n! A little undercover rat!"

"Let me explain, please Bucky listen to me" he simply turned around and remained silent, you turned to see your companions, they all looked at you wanting to kill you. Natasha was muttering death curses against you, Steve you keep looking at you very angry, you were almost sure that Clint already had his arrows ready under the table. "They forced me"

"Don't say that now, because I can't take any more lies from your mouth" Bucky looked at you again as he killed you with his gaze, both of his arms were in clenched fists. You could see his eyes like pools and how hurt he was "you know everything they did to me and you still did this". You tried to talk to him and explain to the others one more time, but he cut you off. "Steve? What's next?"

"Agent y/l/n, you are revoked from your position as avenger, partner and friend. You will no longer be part of the team, however you will attend missions and training, you are still useful to us, son of a bitch"

After that Steve made his way to the exit, everyone followed him.

"I have proof!"

"more lies" said bucky starting to walk.

"Wanda! I know you'll understand. I did it for love! Okay?! You can read my mind, see my memories!"

"y/n..." she touched your cheek, where the tears were already rolling "I really want to help you, b-but" she was interrupted by Steve, who was frowning "sorry"

Suddenly Nat approached you, you had hope for a second until you fell to the ground with a tremendous pain in your groin. After that, you saw Bucky next to her still looking at you hurt. You got up as fast as you could, calling him.

"wait bucky! let's talk please"

"follow me"

You went after him like a puppy, both of you reached the bathroom. He just turned to meet your eyes and clenched his jaw as he sighed, you knew he wasn't going to forgive you when a tear from his escaped his eyes. The strong nausea became much stronger when he saw that he took off the ring.

"You said we'd talk about it first. If either of us had a disagreement or problem we'd talk about it! We're not talking! Bucky I beg you!...don't leave me" Your voice broke, you tried to grab his hands but he walked away and approached the toilet "don't do it...please. I-if you do...I'll lose my mind completely" Bucky took off the ring and without hesitation threw it into the water, then left the bathroom with a broken heart.

Your mind won't stop spinning, experiencing many emotions at the same time and your stomach wouldn't stop churning. You returned the little you had consumed a few hours ago, but not before removing the ring from the water.

...

When you got to the shared room and opened the door, you found your belongings in suitcases and Bucky lying on the bed sleeping, even though you knew he wasn't asleep. You didn't want to bother him anymore and you grabbed your things to move to another room. And as you had told him, you lost your mind, you were no longer the same, even you noticed it.

Now you were a punching bag in training, you dislocated your knee, broke your finger, and now you had a huge bruise around your eye, so horrible that the white part of your eye was red.

You had returned to your old eating habits, as many of your peers made fun of you, they were too cruel, talking about your physique, criticizing your abilities and problems and constantly highlighting your betrayal towards them. You didn't eat if you weren't ravenously hungry, you were more and more exhausted, not only physically but also mentally.

One afternoon, you were cooling down after doing some exercise. Most were present in the training room, concentrating on their own. Your stomach demanded food, but you only came with more water. Suddenly Tony arrived in a hurry, as if he had run a marathon.

"Guys! Y/n he was telling the truth. You have to believe him!"

"What's all the talk about, Stark?" Steve leaned in, as did most to listen. You didn't get too close, you didn't want to face them all again.

"this proves it!" in his hand he held the phone that you supposedly had thrown in the kitchen trash can, days had passed. How the hell do I get it? "When I heard about y/l/n's alleged betrayal I had Jarvis check the cameras, I saw him throw this in the dumpster"

"I was just removing the evidence, obviously didn't want us to find out, but we did"

"I examined it thoroughly, there are no cheats in this, I tell you Tony Stark. Y/n wasn't lying"

"It's another trick, he's too smart, he graduated with honors, he studied the same career" Natasha was convinced.

Everyone went back to their own thing, Tony came running towards you. "Help me, if you want to go back to the team and with Barnes, you have to agree with me, understand?"

"It's not worth trying anymore Tony, I appreciate you believing me...they believe what they want to believe. It's not going to work anyway. At least I'm still useful."

The missions were never the same either. To begin with, in the ship they always sat as far away from you as possible, during the fights nobody helped you or covered you, you had to endure pain until you reached the tower, since you did not know how to heal wounds, except to stop bleeding.

It was then that Wanda decided that she was fed up with everything and accented her classmates. She took you out of your room and dragged you into the little celebration after a successful mission taking place in the room. Of course, you weren't invited.

"You're all jerks!" he came screaming to the place, everyone immediately turned to see them both. You noticed that both Sam and Peter were already in them, fully recovered and healthy.

"Wow, wait Wanda, what are you doing?" Steve moved closer wanting her to get away from you.

You stared at your gold ring, which you still have, with the sound of Steve and Wanda's voices in the background. You began to remember your time with Bucky, how you met, the way you asked Bucky Barnes out on a date, and how you blushed when you kissed him for the first time. They always had a late night snack after missions, no matter how long. When he gave you kisses all over your face and hair. How he played with your ears until you fell asleep.

"I'm going to show all of you"

You came back to reality when you felt how Wanda pushed you to the ground "I'm sorry, this is going to hurt a little". You didn't have time to respond when she placed one hand on your forehead and the other in the air. You had no idea what she did, but you felt a terrible headache, you started to see the memories from the moment Hydra got their hands on you months ago. When it was all over, your nose was bleeding and everything looked blurry. When she cleared your mind you felt Wanda's arms help you up. You looked around you, everyone looked worried.

"I'm going to sleep for a while...I don't know what you did but my head hurts" you told Wanda, not knowing exactly what she did but you had an idea.

As you walked slowly towards your room, Bucky had started to cry just like Steve, remembering the moment when you tried to talk to him and he just ignored you, the moment when you presented him with the cake you had made especially for Steve, he threw it away in the trash.

"I'm a jerk"

"bucky nobody knew about this, we only had evidence against him. Tony said it, he is innocent, he was telling the truth"

"I didn't hear them clearly, can you repeat it? Of course I was right! My AI verified it"

"Still we should have given him the benefit of the doubt, he said he had proof and we didn't listen. I didn't listen and I threw my ring in the toilet" Bucky covered his face with his hands and then ran after you.

...

You jumped in fright when you heard someone knock on your door a little violently. Then you heard his voice.

You were totally sure it was Steve, wanting to tell you that you were out of the team and that you had to leave the tower, so I saved you the trouble, already having your suitcase packed. As soon as you opened the door the person lunged at you, causing you to back up and fall on your bed with that person on top of you, you soon realized that he was Bucky.

"B-bucky, what are you doing?"

"Listen to me…" you sighed and tried to get up but he just held you tighter. "I know I wasn't fair to you, I was ignorant, an idiot, a bad boyfriend…" his vos trembled, you knew he was already crying. "I-I broke our promise. Not only did I break your heart but I also let you down..." Something caught Bucky's eye, a suitcase and two jackets next to it, that wasn't good. "A-Are you leaving?"

Bucky looked at your face feeling desperate and scared, of course he had missed you wanting everything Steve said not to be true. Your face reflected pain, pure and intense. Then he remembered all the fights and hits in the missions and training. He got up quickly and offered you his hand, you took it kindly. Once on your feet, you put on both jackets and grabbed your suitcase.

"Wait, wait! You can't leave please! I'll DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! I'll get you that puppy you wanted last month, we'll move out of the tower like you wanted! please...don't leave me!". "I-I know I was wrong, I made a big mistake and-and I didn't trust you. Maybe you don't want to continue with this relationship, but we can be friends if you want but I'm begging you. Don't go...I need you"

Seeing him cry just broke your heart. You were decided to leave and give yourself and Bucky some time, you need to rest, both mentally and physically and Bucky needed to think, clarify his ideas and reflect on what happened, on what he did to you, but it wasn't his fault that this happened, it was yours, completely. You didn't care what the other avengers think, you just hurt that Bucky couldn't trust you and the way he threw his ring in the water like it was nothing, like you and his relationship were nothing.

"Where were you when I needed you?"

...

You agreed to sleep with Bucky until nightfall, after you collapsed and cried hitting his chest, he knew you couldn't hurt him but you would if you wanted to, with your electricity powers. You were so tired that you didn't stop him from hugging you and snuggling up on the bed. "We'll talk when we're both a little calmer"

You were able to sleep well for a few hours, by his side, with someone giving you warmth and protection. You had fallen asleep first with him caressing your hair and occasionally giving you kisses, but he had noticed something strange when he intertwined your hands. Lines on your wrists, some old and some new. I cry silently that night and hug you tight until you fall asleep, thanking whatever heavenly being you had stayed.

You could stay and be an Avenger again, but you needed stability, quiet, and space to recover. It wasn't going to be easy for you now that Bucky wanted you to stay, it was for the good for both of us.

They both had a habit of moving around in their sleep, so in the early morning, when you woke up from the lack of warmth and touch, you realized that he had turned to sleep on his stomach. He always looked adorable when he slept, it hurt when you got up and he looked for something to hug finding the warm pillow you had used, it had your smell and it confused his brain. You grabbed your backpack and left the room as quietly as possible, leaving a note on the nightstand before leaving.

No one heard you leave, you deactivated Jarvis on your way out. You felt a little strange without your ring, you had left it next to the note with the other bucky ring. You had enough money to survive, however, a good friend of yours had told you that there was no need to pay to keep him.

Luckily you didn't have to walk that long or that far, it was close and at least there was a very good sandwich shop next door. You knocked on the door and a few seconds later it was opened, you smiled at the person in front of you. "Old friend, I'm sorry for everything you went through. Come in, it's cold, you made yourself some tea"

While you settled in the simple room that they had given you, it was dawn and with that bucky began to wake up. He pushed away from the pillow she was hugging, wondering that it wasn't you that he was locked in her arms. Panic appeared on her face as soon as he saw that your suitcase was missing. "No, no, no, no. Shit!" He jumped up and went to the bathroom, he went out and searched her room, then the training room and finally the kitchen, you were nowhere. He asked Jarvis, but he had been disconnected on the way out, so he didn't know. He grabbed his hair in desperation and sat down in the kitchen. Steve arrived, seeing his best friend.

"What's up buck? Is it y/n? Is everything okay?"

"He left. He went out during the night and it's my fault"

"buck, we were all to blame. We know that y/n was very sensitive and we didn't hold back with our words and actions and I'm going to repeat it to you as many times as necessary. It may just need time, but I'll help you find it"

"This is it, it's the end of our relationship"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reade #sebastián stan x male reader #male reader #marvel

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highlifeboat · 7 months

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You know how sometimes you think about something sweet and your mind goes "but what if we made it darker?".

Yeah.

So what if Max's mom was revived somehow?

Like we talked about it happening with Marguerite in the past, and the way it fucked with Mia, but what about in this case? How much would it fuck with Max?

Would he be happy, cause she's back? Sad, because it's not his entire family? Traumatized, cause "oh god he saw her broken body, bleeding on the ground and *he ran*, he ran away and he couldn't save them, couldn't save his siblings, her other children, she must hate him, want him gone, he is a monster and undeserving..."?

How would she react to him? (I like to think she would forgive him, would hold and love him. Maybe be a bit overprotective about Dani and the others, because she knows their rep, and he is her "last child left".)

How would she respond to having a son now, rather than the daughter she thought she had? (I hope she would love him all the same, he deserves that much. (Darker thought that it's more because of her not wanting to lose another kid than overall acceptance/understanding, but ehhhh, that might *too* dark. Though I could at least see the confusion still))

How did she get back? My bet's on Miranda - looking for new ways to revive some of her fallen followers, to bolster her ranks once more, and started with his family because, even if they were ripped apart by Lycans, that's easier to repair than those burnt alive. And Alcina won't let her close enough to her property to use the scarecrows or zombie maidens anymore. Plus "(he)'s always whining about the loss, anyhow. (He) should be grateful I'm so generous." (As if she would ever do anything for reasons other than her own gain, and maybe to try to get on Mia's good side more by appealing to one of her "friends").

What if she came back wrong?

Anyway, long post is long. Sorry for the rambling lol (Yes I put some of Miranda's speech in parenthesis cause I refuse to misgender Max, even to quote that bitch)

When I tell you I went fucking FERAL FOR THIS–

OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAY–

I strongly believe pulling bodies from the rubble of the slaughter and deciding to play God is something Miranda would do. However, I find it far more likely that she would pull Max’s mom by pure chance more than anything. Perhaps she was simply scouring the aftermath and his mom’s corpse was one of the less-mangled/easier to repair bodies she came across. Took any valuables off, stripped the body, and went to work mending the flesh and repairing what she could manually before starting on Cadou injections. And because Miranda had more than one corpse that she pulled, Max’s Mom wasn’t the first to be experimented on, so she wasn’t revived until recently.

Now, having memories in tact when revived was slowly becoming a trend, so she wasn’t surprised when the woman woke up, looked directly to her, and let out a raspy “Mo–ther Mir…a-nda…?” Recognizing something as significant as herself was obvious. But she seemed to retain… more than the basics. When she started coming around, getting more aware, she started to panic. Rambling on about the Lycans, standing from the operating table and calling for various names. None of which Miranda knew except for “Maxima”–(Which, let's be real she only knows his (dead)name because he’s such a disrespectful shit towards her)

So, in typical “Let’s see how far this goes” Miranda fashion, she points his mom in the right direction to find Max. (AKA the giant castle that is commonly known as a human death trap. So his mom is freaking out a little at that information) Then just kind of… sends her off with nothing else.

Okay, so, once his mom finds him in the castle and they’re technically reunited, Max is just…. So many things at once. Emotions are so high, for both of them.

On Max’s side, he’s… He’s happy, but also incredibly confused, and terrified, and just…. Every emotion imaginable feels like it’s weighing on him. His mom is here, alive, but there’s scars and stitches and her skin tone is a sickly pale that almost rivals Alcina. All the evidence of what happened on display, it reminds him of what he’s tried so hard to forget but… But she’s here. For real. He can touch her, say everything he didn’t get to, he can hug her, but he doesn’t know if he should. So much about it hurts, but not all of it is in a bad way.

And that doesn’t even cover the guilt and trauma that seeing her brings. That’s a whole other beast. When his mother asks him what happened to his other siblings, he can’t even begin to try and tell her. How can he? How is he supposed to explain what he allowed to happen, all because he was too much a fucking coward. That all he did was run. That even the one he managed to get to a safe location died anyway. That the only child she has left is the only one that deserves to be dead.

He hasn’t felt the weight of emotions like this since that day, and that’s evident when he starts having a full breakdown over it all. He can’t stop himself from shaking and when the tears come he can’t hide it. When she pulls him into a hug in a hope to comfort him, he clings onto her as if it’s life or death. Because to him it may as well be.

And from her side…. She doesn’t even know what to think. He looks so incredibly different from what she remembers. She almost didn’t realize who he was, but that face and those eyes are unmistakable to her. He looks older than he should, she thinks, and tired. As if he hasn’t slept in years. And the scars. Not to mention… everything else about his appearance. She has so many questions for him, but she asks about her other children first.

The look he gives her is answer enough, but the sobbing that quickly follows it is all the confirmation she needs. Her heart twists like a knot, knowing her children suffered the same fate as her, the pain and fear they all must have felt. That Max has suffered all this time, a lone survivor. When she pulls him into a hug, he squeezes her tight, and for a while they just… sit, on the floor. She rocks him a little, strokes his hair, anything to try and calm him. Between his heavy sobs are raspy apologies. He’s so sorry, he tells her, he should have done more. He couldn’t save them. He was so scared and the Lycans came so fast. And she tells him to hush. She’s not upset with him, it wasn’t his fault, she loves and forgives him. Whatever he needs to hear in order to compose himself a little.

In terms of Max’s transitioning, it definitely takes her by surprise. She isn’t necessarily upset about it in any way, he’s still her baby, and she’ll love him no matter what identity he chooses to go by. But she also doesn’t fully understand it. And he doesn’t expect her to, as long as she’s supportive. She might slip up and misgender him by accident on occasion, but it’s not malicious, and she does correct herself/make an effort to get it right. It might’ve caught her off guard at first, but her love is unconditional. (Also her saying “You’ve grown into a handsome young man.” to him would make him burst into tears again. Like that’s something he would fantasize about.)

I do think the only thing that gets her is the fact… Max is basically integrated into the Dimitrescu family at this point. Like, when Max tells her “You should meet my girlfriend.” She didn’t expect to meet with one of the Dimitrescu Daughters (though Daniela does try to be very polite), nevermind wind up meeting all of them, and Lady Dimitrescu herself.

It does put her into a bit of a protective stance, though. Despite Max insisting things are perfectly fine and the Dimitrescus really aren’t as evil as the stories say, she can’t quite help but be… nervous. They don’t really blame her. (Perhaps she’s a little… too protective. But Max doesn’t seem to mind it.)

Now, the idea that she comes back wrong is even more interesting, because I like to imagine a scenario in which both these worlds exist.

Max gets his mom back, happy family, all is good. For a while, anyway. And then things… change.

Maybe his mom starts becoming a little hostile. More aggressive towards everybody. It starts off little at first, and Max tries to chalk it up to simple stress from trying to adjust to everything. His mom isn’t an angry person, after all. But it slowly starts getting more out of hand, to a point it feels like she’s trying to be territorial.

Of him.

And it’s not something she’s particularly thrilled over. It’s a very “I can’t control myself” scenario. Kind of like a parasite slowly eating at her mind and turning her into a host.

And I just think it would be really fun if it culminated in some physical fight between her and Daniela, and Max having to step in and break it apart.

#this response took up 3 1/2 pages in my google docs enjoy #also miranda would def show up at some point just to be like ''Yes t'was I who brought (his) mother back from the dead! Aren't I gracious a #and amazing and illustrious an-''#meanwhile everybody else is like ''SHUT UP"#if there's spelling errors it's cause i'm very tired but i had to finish this because brain worms. okay bed time for boat now #asks #coleblackblood #maximus vulpe #also i think his mom would vibe with elena #and melon #she'd look at mel and go ''aren't you that sad child that stole an apple from the market??''

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alicevanderlinde · 8 months

Text

Echos of Love: Pt2

TW: Blood, Gore, Self Harm, mentions of death and starvation, Unwanted Affection, If you're easily triggered by any of those topics above, I highly suggest you don't read this.

Additional tags: Angst, Love, Emotional, Dark, Tragedy, Hurt, Pain, Pregnancy, There's more but I'm dumb af.

Author's note: I apologize in advance if this is trash and all over the place but oh well. Like it or don't I tried. Also I stopped deleting the extra spaces between each piece cause my phone hates me rn.

Word count: 9000ish

Alright cowpokes, grab your yeehaw juice and let's get into this!

During the first two arduous weeks of Alice's recovery, she found herself facing a unique set of challenges. Her determination to be self-sufficient clashed with the constant presence of caring individuals who incessantly offered their assistance. Susan would delicately braid her hair just the way she liked it, Dutch engulfed her with affection, Jack delighted in weaving flowers into her locks, the girls diligently mended her clothes, Abigail shared both helpful advice and worrisome thoughts about her growing baby bump, Pearson ensured she never missed a meal, Lenny happily read her favorite books, and Charles made a point to bring her flowers from his hunts as per Arthur's request. Miraculously, even Micah managed to ease up on being a nuisance. However, Arthur struggled more than Alice did, fiercely determined to prevent her from doing anything on her own.

While Alice deeply appreciated the unwavering support from everyone in camp, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Before this happened, Alice couldn't bear to spend more than a few days in camp. Now, she was going stir-crazy from being confined and treated like a child.

She remained unwaveringly insistent that she could handle things independently but also recognized that it would take time to fully recover. She wished that everyone could understand her perspective and grant her the space she craved.

It's almost as if she's still bound like she can feel the weight of the shackles around her wrist from everyone's doting attention.

Lying in their shared tent, Alice gazed up at the makeshift cloth roof, enveloped in the stillness of the night. The sounds of crickets, owls, distant yelps of coyotes, haunting wolf howls, and the gentle snores of Arthur were the only noises disrupting the tranquility of the gang.

Arthur's arm draped lovingly over her swollen belly, he had fallen asleep while tenderly rubbing small circles on her abdomen—a new habit he had developed since they began sharing a cot again.

He would always hold her close, their fingers intertwining as they lovingly discussed their aspirations and dreams of a life beyond the reach of the gang. The gentle tickle of his five o'clock shadow against the soft skin below her ear would make her giggle with delight, an affectionate gesture that she adored. However, the absence of her arm now compelled him to substitute the loss with comforting rubs on her belly. The realization of how much she had taken her arm for granted struck her deeply after it was severed from her body.

With a soft sigh, she carefully extracted herself from under Arthur's arm, determined not to disturb his much-needed sleep. His weary appearance upon her awakening from the coma had been a stark reminder of the toll this ordeal had taken on him. Despite his frequent jolts of wakefulness whenever she stirred, the past few days had granted him the rest he so deserved.

Quietly and skillfully maneuvering his arm, she swung her legs over the edge of the cot and focused her gaze on the darkness encompassing the tent. Rising to her feet, she took a moment to stretch, feeling the pulsating ache of every wound she had sustained. Initially, this discomfort would bring tears to her eyes, but with time, her body had adapted and grown accustomed to the aftermath.

With light, nearly silent footsteps, she slips out of the comforting warmth of the tent, instantly greeted by a biting gust of night air. Uncle lies sprawled beside the flickering fire, completely unconscious. The mere sight of the flames flickering brings a rush of memories she'd rather forget - the searing pain and the acrid scent of her flesh being cauterized. She cannot bear to be near a fire anymore.

Her instincts lead her towards the area where the horses are tethered. The desire to climb onto Artemis and gallop away tugs at her, but the reality sets in. Riding a horse with only one hand would be an immense challenge. The memory, although hazy, lingers on how difficult it was to maintain control with her limited grip.

Gently, her fingers trail along the smooth, well-groomed coat of Artemis, an indication of Kieran's dedicated care. The horse responds, leaning into her touch and nuzzling against her body. It's as if Artemis, too, yearns for the thrill of adventure.

"I understand, my sweet girl." She whispers affectionately, pressing a tender kiss upon the mare's snout. Filled with a mix of hesitation and determination, Alice unhitches the reins, struggling slightly with the task but managing to free them eventually. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, feeling the cool air fill her lungs as she places her bare foot into the stirrup. Grasping tightly with her remaining arm and relying on her upper body strength, she pulls herself up onto the horse, embracing the uncertainty that lies ahead.

Secure in the saddle, she gently pulls back on the reins, testing Artemis's response. The loyal mare complies with her owner's guidance, gracefully backing up and smoothly turning as Alice directs her to the left. It's an unfamiliar change in direction for both of them, but they adapt, embarking on a leisurely trot along the path that leads away from camp.

Deep down, she knows she shouldn't venture out without a weapon or proper attire. However, the urgency to avoid alerting Arthur, who would surely awaken if she took the time to change out of her chemise, outweighs her concern. Besides, she's only planning to practice riding down the road, not putting herself in immediate danger. She convinces herself that minimal precautions will suffice.

"Alright, girl, let's go." Alice declares, gently urging Artemis forward with a well-placed dig of her heel into the mare's side. In an instant, they burst into a full gallop, the wind caressing her soft skin and carrying stray strands of her hair. As they race along, she breathes deeply, savoring every ounce of freedom she feels, relishing the liberation like never before.

However, as the inhalation fills her lungs, she detects a distinct change in the surrounding scents. The unmistakable odor of copper and charred flesh taints the air. Her heart plummets into her stomach, instinctively pulls back on the reins to flee, only to realize the cruel twist of fate—the reins are now mercilessly wound tightly around her wrist. Her eyes snap open in sheer horror, revealing not only the unsettling smells but also an entirely different and unfamiliar landscape looming before her.

"I never thought you would've made it, sweetheart." Colm's vile voice oozes as his fingers trail over her belly with a twisted sense of affection.

"NO...NO...NO!" She screams, desperately trying to wrench free from what she thought were leather reins, only to discover the cruel reality that the restraints are the same shackles that have held her captive before, now accompanied by additional shackles on her ankles, compensating for the loss of her arm.

The sound of Colm's sadistic laughter twists her stomach into painful knots, fueling her wild thrashing. With each desperate struggle, the unforgiving metal digs deeper into her flesh, a bitter reminder of past torments that haunt her. The searing pain becomes unbearable as her skin reopens, the agony intensifying instead of subsiding.

Every ounce of her being screams in terror as the realization dawns upon her—the refuge her mind created to withstand the horrors she endured had deceived her. The touches she savored were not Arthur's, but rather Colm's deranged perversions.

"Careful now, sweetheart. Don't want to strain yourself it ain't good for the baby." Colm menacingly taunts, his words dripping with sadistic satisfaction.

"This ain't real! I escaped!" She repeats to herself, desperately hoping to transport herself away from this nightmarish hell.

"Oh, it's all too real, sweetheart. You put up quite the fight and killed a few of my boys in the process. But, fortunately, you didn't get very far." Colm sneers.

"No...this can't be happening! It's some twisted nightmare!" she pleads, attempting to convince herself of a false reality.

Once again, Colm's laughter fills the air as he positions himself on top of her, straddling her and forcefully gripping her jaw. "Look at me." He growls in a bone-chilling tone, his nails digging into the tender flesh of her jaw. Despite the pain, she braves his hold and resists, attempting to pull away.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance and heaving a frustrated sigh, he releases his grasp on her face, only to strike her with a swift, powerful blow, the sickening crack reverberating through the air. Her skin tingles and stings as she struggles to comprehend the brutal assault.

"Look at me." He demands once more, and she lifts her tear-filled eyes to meet his gaze, barely making out his features through her blurred vision. His fingers trace the remnants of her bruised cheek, a wicked smirk playing across his vindictive lips.

"Was that so hard?" He taunts, digging his nail into the tender, swollen flesh. She clenches her teeth, determined not to grant him the satisfaction he seeks from inflicting pain upon her.

"I'm gon' kill you!" She growls, her teeth clenched tightly together, her gaze searing with a ferocity that could melt steel.

"You shouldn't speak that way to the man who is gonna father your bastard child." He retorts.

Her blood turns to ice, and her heart feels as though it's being crushed. "Wha-what do you mean, 'bastard child'?"

"Don't you get it?" He sneers, aware that she is completely in the dark. She looks up at him, her brow furrowed, waiting for him to unravel this bewildering truth.

"They came for you, all of them—Arthur, Dutch, everyone. Even the women joined in. But one by one, they fell. First Dutch, then Arthur, until every last one of them lay lifeless in pools of their blood." He reveals, a disturbing fondness coloring his words as her body begins to tremble uncontrollably.

"Liar!" She cries out, tears streaming relentlessly down her face, adding to the sting of his words.

"It's a hard pill to swallow, but it is the truth. I would never deceive you, especially not after I murdered your friends, your husband, and even your father." When he senses that she still doesn't believe him, he takes a moment to pull out Arthur's revolver from the nightstand beside the bed, the metal crusted with dried blood.

Alice goes to speak but all that comes out of her mouth is a whimper. She closes her eyes as she breaks down, her heart breaking as she envisions seeing the gang lying dead, Arthur, Dutch, Tilly, Charles, Susan- She doesn't want to believe it, a part of her is screaming at her that it's a lie but with the images of everyone laying dead, their bodies riddled with bullets she can't help but believe it's the truth.

"Hush, sweetheart. Let it all out." He coos, twirling her hand around his dirt-stained fingers.

"Get away from me. Now." Her words drip with hatred and venom.

"I'll give you some time alone." He says softly, placing the revolver back on the nightstand, a clear message lingering in the air: 'You have nothing left.'

Hours pass as she remains seated on the bed, clutching herself as tears continue to flow. Just when she believes her tears have run dry, her gaze falls upon the blood-crusted revolver. Reluctantly, she reaches out and takes it into her trembling hand, immediately checking the cylinder for bullets. As she expected, it's empty.

"He fought hard." Colm comments, startling her. She hadn't noticed his return to the room, his presence only becoming apparent now. But she chooses to ignore him, her eyes fixated on the revolver, memories flooding her mind—how she carefully selected its engravings, ensuring the gunsmith carved their initials into the grip as a wedding gift, and how his dreamy oceanic blue-green eyes lit up with joy when she presented it to him.

"I don't get it. You barely cried when we captured you and now you can't stop over those who ain't alive no more." Colm jests, perching himself on the edge of the creaky bed frame.

Colm seems to grasp her unspoken question, and he responds, "Why did I spare you? There are many reasons, but if I'm bein' honest, keeping Dutch's daughter even after his demise brings a certain satisfaction. That bastard is probably rolling in his grave," He pauses to chuckle. "If he had one... I can only imagine the critters are damn near close to picking his bones clean by now."

"Why?" she manages to choke out as her chest tightens, making each breath more agonizing than the last.

"You're better off killin' me now 'cause if you don't... I'm sure as shit gonna find a way to kill you."

"That's just the grief talkin'."

"It's a goddamn promise and daddy taught me never to break one."

"Really? You'd kill the man who would take care of you and our unborn child?"

"Jr is not your child and he will NEVER belong to you." She forcefully spits into his face, determined to make it clear that she will never submit to him.

His face contorts with rage as he wipes away the spit from his face. "I know what you're tryin' to do. It ain't gonna work but do something like that again and I won't hesitate to cut your tongue from your mouth."

Fully aware that he will keep his word if she continues to defy him, she decides to keep her mouth shut.

The following weeks pass in a haze for Alice, numbed to everything, even in the presence of Colm. She tried to starve herself, but Colm forcefully shoved food down her throat when she refused to eat. And if she refused to drink, he used his mouth to transfer water into her own, suffocating any resistance.

Though Colm has removed her restraints and granted her freedom within the room, the window remains boarded up and the door is locked from the outside. Every breakable item has been eliminated, even though she had a chance to eliminate Colm once.

Deep down, she longed to kill him at that very moment, fighting the urge with every fiber of her being, but instead, she bides her time, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to exact her revenge, to make him suffer the way he made her suffer. Arthur always said, "Revenge is a fool's game." but this vile man will pay dearly for taking away everyone she loved.

With a grim determination, she starts unwrapping the dirt and blood-covered gauze from around her mangled nub, wincing as each tear of the gauze reopens the painful scabs beneath.

Alice's desperate desire for her mangled appendage to become infected, potentially leading to her demise, became a distant dream when she refused to give herself medical treatment. Colm ordered one of his lackeys to mend her wound. The incompetence displayed during that torturous ordeal was enough to make her question the intelligence of that man, though she couldn't say that she was surprised by that man's intelligence or lack thereof.

Examining the wound now, she can see patches of red where the gauze had forcibly torn away the delicate scabs. It is a grotesque sight, made even more haunting by the fact that it exists on her own body. Each time she beholds it, it serves as a solemn reminder of her failures, not just once, but twice. The regret of her inability to protect herself lingers, leading to her capture, and the subsequent loss of her loved ones.

She strikes a match, the scent of red phosphorus faintly tickling her senses, invoking memories of Arthur. Tears well in her eyes at the recollection of him, a tumultuous blend of anger, grief, and overwhelming sadness. Suppressing a whimper, she holds the burning match near her wound, feeling the searing heat wash over her, eradicating the haunting memories she once took for granted.

In the past, Alice despised when Dutch would claim that she was still a child, insisting that she lacked the maturity to make decisions. Yet now, she reflects on her actions, realizing that she had indeed acted childish when she ran away from her father's refusal to listen to reason. Watching the match gradually burn down to a mere stub, she can't help but marvel at it...

How. Fucking. Ironic.

With a sigh escaping her lips, she carefully removes the tin lid of the healing ointment, dipping her fingers into the salve and spreading a generous amount on her fingertips. Applying it to the stump, she finds solace in the pain, as if it momentarily shields her from the creeping insanity that lingers within her mind.

Using a piece of gauze held between her teeth, she lifts her arm and tightly wraps the wound, hoping that the pressure will numb the ache and silence the haunting voices of those she has lost, even if just for a brief hour.

Her annoyance flickers across her face. Why couldn't Colm have severed her left arm instead? The cruelty he inflicts on her seems excessive, driven by a desire to make her suffer. But why? Because Dutch took the life of his brother, igniting a vengeful fire that has scorched her existence. Yet, his torment feels disproportionate.

At that moment, a realization strikes her like a lightning bolt. The heartache she has endured, the pain, anger, and deep sadness. He must have felt it too, fueling his thirst for revenge. It was satisfied when he coldly snatched away her mother Annabelle's life right before her eyes. But was that truly enough? Unfortunately, it only ignited this foolish blood feud, a relentless cycle of violence that has plagued them for years.

"How's it healin'?" Colm asks softly, taking a seat beside her on the bed. His arm drapes over her shoulder, and he leans in to press a chapped kiss on her cheek. She forces herself to remain stoic, resisting the urge to strike him as her hand finds its place in her lap.

"Alright, I suppose," She answers with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know what you felt- How you felt."

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"How much pain you were in..." She explains, her voice soft. "Did killin' my father truly bring you the satisfaction you sought for revenge?"

Colm is taken aback by her words. Truthfully, he hadn't contemplated the aftermath of killing Dutch.

"I guess I understand why you did it." She says softly, shrugging her shoulders. She's already weary of waiting for his response. After all, she knows what he'll say: "Taking your father's life didn't bring my brother back."

She rises to her feet, gathering the supplies she used to mend her wound and placing them back in the nightstand drawer. The drawer proves stubborn, jamming each time she tries to close it. As frustration fills her, Colm comes up from behind, resting his head on top of hers and cradling her swollen belly with his hands.

"It didn't make me feel any better... But look at the opportunity it has given us. We get to build a family together." He murmurs tenderly, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. She's never felt so disgusted in her life.

She rotates, locking her gaze with his, her hand finding purchase on his shoulder. Her fingers fumble with the collar of his shirt, tracing along the fabric.

She eagerly awaits the day when she has fully regained her strength, strong enough to end Colm's life. Killing him won't alter the past, but at least she won't have to endure him in the future.

"I just don't understand why you need me here even after you killed my father." She states softly, her eyes threatening to spill over with tears once more.

"I've had an eye for you for a long while now Alice." He replies as his thumb traces along her cheekbone down to the split in her lip, he had given her the other day for disrespecting him. "You'll understand one day when you're my wife."

Weeks have passed since Colm began granting Alice certain freedoms. She now has permission to leave the room and take charge of cleaning the neglected rooms that his men had left in disarray. Despite the challenge of working with only one arm, Alice has persevered. She has scrubbed diligently until the blood stains from the previous owners on the wooden floor have vanished. She keeps the windows and doors open to let in fresh air until evening when she begins preparing dinner.

She knows she must continue playing the role of a dutiful housewife, at least for a little while longer. With each passing day, her growing belly reminds her that time is running out. While she has adapted to the limitations of having only one arm, everyday tasks remain a challenge.

Once a week the men take her into town for a bath or down to Owanjila lake and that's if she behaves herself, if not well then that's a day or two shackled to Colm's bed.

One of Colm's henchmen interrupts her cleaning with a cold statement: "Colm expects you to be clean when he returns." Without warning, he throws a bar of soap at her, and she barely manages to catch it. Determined to maintain some modesty, she takes a step to the side, in an attempt to shield her nude form in the tall grass. However, the man forcefully grabs her arm, disregarding her attempt at privacy.

"Don't be shy, I already know what you're hidin' underneath that blouse." His voice drips with desire, causing her stomach to churn. But she maintains her composure, careful not to reveal her true intentions to him.

She nods softly, her eyes downcast as she delicately begins unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers momentarily struggle, leading to a heartless chuckle from the man.

"If you need some help, all you have to do is ask." He offers in a seemingly sweet tone, yet his expression betrays the ulterior motives behind his words.

Briefly, Alice's vision turns red, but she quickly regains control. She must remain composed if she wants to seize this opportunity.

"That would be delightful." She responds, her voice akin to honey, fluttering her eyelashes and subtly swaying her body. The man catches on to her not-so-subtle hint and places his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. Fortunately, her baby bump acts as a small barrier between them.

"Come here." He says, his smirk sending a twist through her stomach, yet she maintains a stoic expression. His fingers forcefully grasp the opening of her blouse, causing buttons to fly in every direction. She attempts to shield her exposed breasts with her arm, but he stops her, his grip bruising her.

A warning look from him sends a chilling shiver down her spine, her instincts urging her to act, but she restrains herself. She closes her eyes as his thumb traces her bottom lip, slowly descending from her chin to her neck, trailing over her collarbone and settling on her breasts.

Suppressing her pride, she rises onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arm around his waist. Her tongue glides along the pulsing vein in his neck, detesting the saltiness of his skin while his hands explore the contours of her torso. Occasionally, his nail grazes one of the scars left by Colm on her ribcage, eliciting a whimper against his skin.

Thankfully, the other man has chosen to avert his gaze, providing Alice an opportunity to act.

Her teeth sink into the tender flesh of his neck, her fingers simultaneously securing a firm grip on his revolver. As she tears away a chunk of his flesh, the taste of blood, all too familiar, coats her taste buds while he unleashes a pained howl. In that split second, she extracts the revolver, pulling back the hammer as she aims it at the man positioned just a few feet away.

The gunshot reverberates through the air, scattering birds from the nearby trees, as a crimson mist envelops the space around his head, his body collapsing lifelessly to the ground. Alice would have found tranquility in this moment if the other man's screams didn't pierce the air like that of a terrified child, clutching his wound.

Forcing him down onto the grass, Alice swiftly grabs the knife from his gunbelt. A smirk adorns her face as she straddles him, positioning the blade's tip beneath his chin. A sense of pride fills her being as she leans in, relishing the sight of fear and terror flickering within his brown eyes, as he begins to plead for his life.

"I'll see you in hell." She whispers coldly before pressing the blade against his throat, slicing through the skin effortlessly. A spray of blood gushes forth, splattering her face, her torn blouse, and her exposed bosom.

She rises from him, finding a seat beside her grisly masterpiece, her mind already contemplating her next move. Lost in the scene unfolding before her, she watches the afternoon sun cast its radiant glow upon the water, slowly descending behind the tree line, as if bidding farewell for the day. The melodic symphony of birdsong fills the air as they return to the safety of their branches, preparing to nestle in for the night.

In this moment, uncertainty looms over her. She wonders if this might be her final glimpse at a breathtaking sunset, her last chance to savor the intoxicating fragrance of wildflowers, or her final opportunity to be enchanted by the birdsong. Regardless of the answer, she is determined to seize this moment, cherishing it as if it is indeed her last.

The gang had never settled in one place for such an extended period of time, but they are haunted by fear that she would return if they moved. Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur were particularly consumed by this worry. Meanwhile, the other gang members had resigned themselves to the notion that Alice had passed on, finding solace in the belief that she had found freedom from suffering.

Strauss, driven by his desire for debt collection, departed the gang as Arthur's focus shifted towards the search for Alice. It wasn't until he finally delved into her journal that he discovered the depths of her remorse over his cruel treatment of the less fortunate. She had even taken it upon herself to delve into Strauss' debt book, seeking out the very families he had exploited, and providing them with the means to repay their debts.

Arthur didn't realize the gang had begun to stray from the moral path they had forged, while Alice remained steadfastly committed to those values in secret. Under the cover of darkness, she would venture out and sell her prized belongings, using the spoils to alleviate the burdens of the less fortunate. How had he become so blessed to have her by his side?

The pages of Alice's journal invited Arthur into a realm he had never before explored. An initial hesitance was replaced by a longing for closeness with his wife. In doing so, he found himself falling in love with her all over again, questioning why she would choose someone like him. But every entry he read answered his questions with an exquisite level of detail, painting a picture of a love so profound that she deemed him as essential as the very air she breathed or the water that quenched her thirst on scorching summer days. The sketches she had made of him, meticulously capturing every scar and imperfection, served as a testament to her adoration, enhancing his already handsome features in her eyes.

The absence of her presence leaves him bereft with a profound ache that permeates his entire being, as if a vital part of his soul has been lost. He yearns for her, longing for the warmth of her voice whispering sweet compliments about his looks each day or teasing him with tantalizing words that ignite a fire within, only to playfully retreat and gaze innocently, her eyes sparkling with emerald hues, while a tender smile graces her lips.

In her presence, he had never fully grasped the immense fortune he possessed. Cherishing those moments, he now realizes the depth of his luck and the sheer blessing it was to have her by his side.

Dutch finds himself spiraling into despair, overwhelmed by the guilt of failing both his daughter and the memory of her mother, just as he failed long ago. With unwavering determination, he had sworn upon Annabelle's grave that he would stop at nothing to protect Alice, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. Yet, the bitter truth remains, haunting him relentlessly - he is still alive while uncertain of her fate.

His beloved daughter is out there somewhere, carrying with her the precious gift of his unborn grandchild. Though he may never openly admit it, Dutch has always harbored a deep longing for the day Alice would grant him the cherished title of grandfather. Unexpectedly, it was Arthur, who partook in that and truthfully Dutch couldn't be prouder. Clutching a photograph in his weathered hands, he reflects upon the early days of their gang, when Susan, Annabelle, Bessie, Hosea, John, Arthur, himself, and Alice stood united. In the image, Alice perches upon his shoulders, a radiant smile illuminating her face, adorning her hair with delicate flowers, defying societal expectations as she reveled in her individuality alongside the boys.

Deep down, Dutch had always known that Alice was destined for more than the life she was thrust into. Her remarkable talents held the power to carry her far beyond the confines of their world. In the past, he had even ventured to support her dreams, offering financial assistance to nurture her talents and guide her towards success. Nevertheless, Alice consistently declined, asserting that there was no place in the world she would rather be than at her father's side. Time has now revealed that her reluctance to depart was not solely due to loyalty, but a clandestine yearning that led her into the embrace of Arthur's arms.

Dutch gently places the photograph on his cot, tenderly brushing away the tears staining his weathered cheeks. As he tries to regain composure, Hosea enters his tent, offering a weary smile while settling into a chair beside the bed. It is a rare sight for Hosea to witness Dutch in such despair, a level of despair he hasn't witnessed since the loss of Annabelle, and yet this time, Dutch appears even more broken.

"I... I miss her." Dutch mutters, his voice trembling with unending hours of sorrow.

With a sympathetic understanding, Hosea nods, reaching over to hand Dutch a worn and folded piece of paper. Dutch's furrowed brows reflect his confusion as he accepts the fragile paper, his hands tremoring uncontrollably.

"What's this?" Dutch inquires, his gaze fixed on Hosea, searching for answers.

"She gave it to me a while back... Just go ahead and open it." Hosea encourages, his own eyes brimming with tears.

Dutch takes a deep, steadying breath, cautiously unfolding the delicate paper, treating it with the utmost care. His eyes scan the contents, and his breath catches.

"You're not alone in this." the paper reads, the beautiful handwriting unmistakably Alice's, accompanied by her delicate hand-drawn picture of the gang huddled around a campfire below.

After a moment of silence, Hosea's mind drifts back to the time when Bessie, his beloved wife, passed away. The bitterness that consumed him, the incessant drinking to numb the pain of losing her. With a heavy sigh, he recalls those dark days.

"I know this feeling all too well," Hosea admits, his voice tinged with sadness. "I understand that it's tearing you apart, that you're in immense pain. But, Dutch, you can't push away the very people who love and support you. We're here for you... Each and every one of us."

Dutch's eyes widen with the sudden realization that he has been unintentionally neglecting the gang. He spends his days drowning himself in alcohol, secluded within the confines of his tent, lost in the memories captured in old photographs.

"I ain't fit to lead anymore... I couldn't even protect my own daughter." Dutch utters sorrowfully, his head hanging low, his once immaculate hair now falling disheveled across his eyes.

Before Hosea can respond, a distant shout from one of the men on watch echoes through the air, cautioning someone to cease their approach. A sense of urgency fills the space between Dutch and Hosea, their gazes meeting with unspoken agreement as they hastily rise from their seats and rush towards the path leading into camp.

Confusion overtakes Arthur as he surveys the scene before him, his brows furrowing in disbelief. Bill's rifle remains fixed on the woman and her frightened son, but Dutch and Hosea arrive just in time, demanding that Bill lower his weapon.

The woman hesitates, her hand gently caressing her son's hair in an attempt to calm him. "Is there a woman named Alice Morgan here? I need to speak with her urgently." she pleads.

Arthur's voice fills the air, laced with a touch of intimidation. "How do you know that name?" he demands.

The woman takes a tentative breath, reaching into her worn pocket to retrieve a necklace. It is the very same necklace Annabelle had given Alice before her untimely demise. "She gave me this," she begins, her voice trembling. "She came to settle the debt my family owed. Upon learning that my husband fell ill, she gave us this necklace to sell, to purchase medicine for him."

Arthur, intrigued yet cautious, accepts the necklace from the woman, his eyes locked on hers, waiting for further explanation.

Relaying her story, the woman continues, her voice tinged with sadness. "But my husband, stubborn as he was, refused to sell it, believing the medicine wouldn't work. Sadly, he passed away a week ago, and I felt it was only right to return this necklace to its rightful owner."

"I-I appreciate this, Mrs..." Arthur's voice trails off, a mix of gratitude and concern evident on his face.

"Mrs. Downes," She interjects, guiding her son along the path towards the road. Once he's out of earshot, she leans in closer to Arthur. Her voice drops to a hushed tone. "I didn't want to say this in front of my son, but I fear for her safety. The O'Driscolls have been lurkin' around my farm, causin' trouble. They spoke of movin' her to Big Valley, to a place called Hanging Dog Ranch. I apologize for not coming to you sooner, but I just couldn't bear to leave the farm so soon after my husband's passin'."

Arthur's eyes widen with a mix of shock and determination, as he absorbs the weight of the woman's words.

"Where is that goddamn bastard? Where is my wife!?" Arthur's voice explodes, his frantic gaze scanning the faces surrounding him. His words drip with rage, sending a chilling wave of fear through the others.

Arthur grips the nameless goon by his shirt, the sole survivor of his slaughtered friends. He raises his fist, ready to unleash another blow, but Dutch intervenes. The man's face is already a horrifying sight: bloodied and battered, with a severely crooked nose, swollen shut eyes, and a canvas of purple and blue hues from Arthur's brutal assault. While Arthur has engaged in numerous fights before, often fueled by alcohol-induced foolishness, this time it's an uncontainable rage. The only way to stop him is to extract the information he seeks.

"P-please," the man stammers, choking on a mouthful of blood, his gums throbbing where his teeth once were. "Cliff and Burke took her... that's all I know!"

"That's not good enough!" Arthur growls.

"You have a chance to walk away with your life," Dutch interjects, calmly circling the pair. "Tell us where my daughter is and disclose Colm's whereabouts, and your life will be spared." The level of composure in Dutch's voice even manages to unsettle him.

"M-mr. Van Der Linde," Kieran speaks up, his voice trembling.

"Not now." Dutch replies, diverting his attention back to Arthur and the last remaining O'Driscoll.

Alice tirelessly drafts and revises countless plans, desperate to find a way to eliminate Colm without sacrificing her own life in the process. She knows that even if she succeeds, her time left on this earth may be short-lived. But as long as Colm meets his demise, she can find solace in that. If she were to die, at least it wouldn't be in vain.

It takes her a grueling ten minutes to devise a method of mounting a horse with one arm and a swollen belly. After numerous attempts and errors, she finally manages to mount the horse, embarking on her journey back to Hanging Dog Ranch.

With each step the horse takes, a suffocating cloud of dread washes over Alice, tempting her to turn back and escape, to start afresh somewhere else. However, deep within her heart, she knows that until Colm breathes his last breath, true peace will elude her.

As she draws closer to the ranch, the air becomes plagued with billowing smoke. The thunderous sound of hooves pounding against the earth catches her attention, and then she sees him. Right in her line of sight is the very man she is looking for.

"Dutch, Arthur!" Susan's voice pierces the air as she delivers a resounding slap to the side of Dutch's head. "Pay attention!" she insists, gesturing towards the chilling, distant screams that echo through the air.

In that instant, the horrifying wails also reach Arthur's ears, causing him to release his tight grip on the O'Driscoll, urgently racing towards the horses. Hosea swiftly follows suit, their determination evident in their strides. Meanwhile, Dutch calmly observes the man who pleads for his life, standing tall with unwavering composure.

"Please!" the man pleads, his voice dripping with desperation. However, his cries for mercy fall on deaf ears... Dutch unholsters his revolver, pressing it firmly against the man's temple, and without a moment's hesitation, he pulls the trigger. The force of the gunshot propels blood and brain matter, staining the ground below, as the others look on at Dutch with a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!" Her voice bellows with a terrifying intensity, laced with deep-seated hatred. In response, Colm unleashes a devastating punch, connecting with her cheek in a sickening blow. The force jolts her head to the side, leaving the overpowering metallic taste of blood in her mouth, a chilling stain on the surrounding dirt.

Stunned by the brutal strike, Alice momentarily ceases her struggles, her body throbbing with pain. Yet, as she tries to gather herself, a chilling sensation claws at her senses. The sharp edge of a knife slices into her skin, cutting painfully into her shoulder. With clenched teeth, she fights back the instinctual urge to scream, refusing to grant this monster the satisfaction he craves.

"We could have been a family!" He utters with a twisted semblance of tenderness, maliciously smearing her own blood across her face using the stained knife. He plunges the blade into the dirt beside her head before delivering another punishing blow to her face.

Her eyes lock onto the glint of the knife, realizing the imminent danger of it being thrust into her skull. In a heart-stopping moment, he presses his revolver against her chin, the frigid metal piercing her skin. As she closes her eyes, summoning her last reserves of strength, a surge of determination ignites within her.

Her trembling hand grasps the knife tightly, summoning all her courage to thrust it forward with every ounce of strength she can muster. He emits a choked, garbled noise, desperately grasping at the blade lodged in his throat. Summoning all her resolve, Alice shoves him to the side, straddling him in a defiant act of dominance. Using the very knife that brought her agony, she repeatedly plunges it into his chest, driven by her shattered sobs, her own pain from the shoulder wound searing through her.

As she pushes herself up from his lifeless body, the ground trembles beneath the approaching thunder of hooves. Her instinct tells her that more O'Driscolls are charging toward her, but instead of running, she decides it's time to confront whatever lies ahead.

Summoning her strength, she stands tall, prepared to face the consequences that await her. The riders come into view, and her heart sinks while her mouth goes dry. It can't be true... Alice scolds herself for falling victim to Colm's deceit so easily. Tears mingle with the blood on her cheeks, but a small, triumphant smile escapes her lips.

Among the riders, she recognizes faces she thought were lost forever, galloping towards her with a determination matched only by their love for her. It takes less than a minute before she can distinguish each one. A whole band of people she believed to be gone, riding towards her at breakneck speed.

Before she can fully comprehend the speed at which Arthur dismounts his horse, he is standing before her, brushing her disheveled, blood-smeared hair away from her face. His gaze roams over her wounded body, assessing her injuries and the life burgeoning within her pregnant belly.

"Darlin', are you alright?" He murmurs softly, his eyes filled with a mix of sweetness and sadness that tugs at her heartstrings.

Speechless, she exhales gently, nodding as she lifts a trembling hand to caress his jaw. He mirrors her gesture, cupping her face with both hands, their touch a tender connection that speaks volumes. Standing there, face to face, they both feel the painful yearning that has consumed them for far too long.

Despite the bruises and cuts adorning her face, she remains undeniably beautiful. He wraps his arms around her waist as she rises on her tiptoes, their lips meeting in a tender, electric moment.

This kiss transcends any they have shared before. It becomes an exchange of emotions, a conduit for desire, love, and a profound connection. Their tongues dance in perfect harmony, moving in rhythm and sync, conveying their deepest longings. Lust and a shared vulnerability deepen their bond, fueling every passionate touch of their lips. Their souls ache from the longing, their hearts bursting with a love that has been sorely missed.

As Alice pulls away, her fingertips tenderly brushing away Arthur's tears, she echoes the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. "Save them tears," she begins softly, a mirror to his turmoil. "I ain't worth cryin' over."

Dutch playfully interjects, reminding them they're not alone with a teasing tone. "No love for your old man?" He jests, his voice lighthearted yet full of worry.

"Daddy!" Alice calls out with a joyful giggle, darting into Dutch's waiting embrace. He wastes no time, wrapping his arms around her carefully, mindful of her wound, and placing a tender kiss atop her head.

"Alright, this young lady needs some medical attention. The rest of us can wait," Susan asserts, stepping forward after Hosea to envelop Alice in a warm, meaningful hug.

The gang successfully pulled off their final job, a simple bank heist that brought them unimaginable riches. With their newfound wealth, they invested in an old plantation home in Leymone that had been left to decay, making it pristine just in time for Alice to deliver their baby. The anticipation of the birth has filled everyone with excitement, each expressing their joy in their own special ways.

Dutch and Hosea took it upon themselves to decorate the nursery, a responsibility initially meant for the women but one they insisted on doing. Their dedication and enthusiasm for creating a beautiful space for the baby is evident.

Meanwhile, John and Abigail have been supporting Alice through the preparations for the birth and the challenges that lie ahead. Though some of the information they have shared might have been unsettling, Alice couldn't be happier knowing she has their guidance and love.

Jack may not fully grasp the concept of having a baby in the gang, but he is still thrilled that he won't be the youngest member anymore. The idea of having a new addition brings him joy and a sense of growing up.

Lenny eagerly looks forward to sharing his love for reading with baby Morgan, eager to nurture and stimulate their young mind with enchanting stories and knowledge.

Sean entertains hopeful thoughts of mischief as he envisions teaching baby Morgan the art of pranks, just as he and his mother used to indulge in when they were mischievous teenagers. He anticipates a mischievous partnership filled with laughter and playful adventures.

Javier wholeheartedly promises to introduce baby Morgan to the world of music through guitar-playing, igniting a passion for melodies and the ability to express oneself artistically. Additionally, he intends to teach the child the beauty of the Spanish language, fostering a connection to cultural heritage.

Charles, alongside Arthur as his trusted mentor, makes a heartfelt vow to guide baby Morgan in navigating through the intricacies of the woods and honing their hunting skills. Together, they hope to instill an appreciation for the natural world and the skills required to survive.

Kieran eagerly expresses his desire to guide baby Morgan in the proper care and nurturing of horses, envisioning a future filled with bonding and shared love for these majestic creatures.

Uncle, despite his occasional struggles with alcohol, exhibits a level of respect and consideration by willingly sleeping on the porch when he's unable to navigate the stairs. This shows a sense of responsibility and an attempt to avoid any disruptions within the household.

Tilly, Sadie, Mary Beth, and Molly are adamant in their belief that baby Morgan is a girl. They have already taken it upon themselves to choose potential names and even select clothes for her. Although they were disappointed by the missed opportunity to create a nursery for the baby, they remain determined to contribute through fashion choices.

Arthur, beyond thrilled, embraces the chance to have a loving family once again. Aware of his past mistakes with Eliza and Issac and the close call with Alice and baby Morgan, he solemnly promises himself that he will not let this opportunity slip away. The possibility of losing loved ones has taught him to value and cherish every present moment.

Since Alice's return, the bond between her and Arthur has become unbreakable. As she had hoped, Arthur constantly demonstrates his care and support, offering to assist with anything. However, Alice independently chooses to take on most tasks, showcasing her strength and resilience.

"You're goin' to get my shirt dirty." Arthur teases, strolling up to Alice who stands knee-deep in the water, with Jack by her side engaged in a frog-catching mission.

Alice glances up, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazes at Arthur, accompanied by John. A smirk graces her lips as she starts wading through the soft mud towards the shore.

"Uncle Arthur, Daddy!" Jack exclaims, gripping Alice's hand for support in navigating the messy mud. "Aunt Alice was helping me catch frogs!" Once onshore, Jack rushes toward Arthur and John. John squats down, extending his arms, only to be ignored as Jack clings to Arthur's leg.

Arthur playfully musses Jack's hair, chuckling at his enthusiasm. John may have faltered as a father in the past, but lately, he's been giving his all to become the father Jack has always needed.

"Hey, Jack, let's go get cleaned up. Lunchtime is just around the corner." John says, gently gripping Jack's hand and leading him towards the house.

"How's my lovely wife doing?" Arthur inquires, glancing at Alice as she leans against the boathouse, weariness etched across her face.

"Exhausted." She replies, her voice reflecting her fatigue.

"You're supposed to be restin'. Lily Morgan will be here any day now." Arthur reminds her, a lightness in his tone.

"Arthur Jr." She corrects him with a playful giggle.

"If we have another Arthur in here, we're in trouble." He jibes, playfully cupping her swollen belly with his hands.

"There's nothin' wrong with him bein' like his father." She asserts, pushing his hat over his eyes affectionately.

With a lighthearted chuckle, he removes his hat and slicks back his golden locks before playfully placing it on her head. The hat effortlessly falls over her eyes, and she giggles, using her wrist to push it back into place.

"I love it when you wear my hat... and my shirts." He quips, his hands finding their place on her hips.

"Well, good, because I love it too." She responds, leaning in as he leans in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. After a moment, they break apart, and Alice's cheeks turn a rosy shade, as if it's their first shared kiss all over again.

Just then, Jack comes running up to them, clinging onto Arthur's leg once more. "Uncle Arthur, Daddy wants to know if you'll come fishin' with us?" He asks.

Arthur hesitated, his face betraying his reluctance, as he glanced at Alice. "He'd love to go." Alice declared before Arthur had the chance to decline. She understood that Arthur didn't want to leave, especially with her being so close to giving birth, but she reassured herself that a mere hour or two wouldn't do any harm.

"But Alice-" Arthur began.

"Please? I've been craving catfish so much." She pleaded, hoping he would reconsider and leave just long enough for her and the gang to decorate and prepare for a small party - after all, it was Arthur's birthday today.

Arthur appeared as though he was about to protest, but when he saw the desperation etched on Alice's face, he let out a soft chuckle and affectionately rubbed his stubbled chin.

"Alright, alright. But don't expect too much, darlin'. I won't be gone for long."

"Hey Alice, are you decent?" Dutch asks with concern, gently tapping on her slightly open door. "The girls said you'd be up here getting ready."

"Yes, daddy. Please come in." She replies, her voice tired, not bothering to sit up. It's been a draining day for Alice, but she knows that if Arthur sees her like this, he won't leave her side. It's tough enough that he forgot his own birthday because he's so focused on Alice and baby Morgan.

As Dutch enters the room, he discovers Alice curled up on the bed, visibly exhausted. It reminds him of how Annabelle looked when she was nearing her due date.

Taking a seat on the bed's edge, Dutch reaches out to touch Alice's forehead with the back of his hand, noticing the slight dampness from her sweat.

"I truly appreciate all your help today, daddy." She says with a relieved sigh, propping her head up with her arm.

"Anything for my not-so-little girl anymore." He teases, his eyes glancing towards her belly.

"Very funny," she replies, rolling her eyes. "Could you lend me a hand to get up?"

Dutch nods, rising from his seat and reaching out to hold her hand as he assists her in getting up from the bed. "You're about to pop."

"No need to remind me. He's been giving me just as much trouble as his father these past few days."

"Alice, maybe you should take a little more rest. You look like you could use it." Dutch suggests, gently guiding her towards the nearest chair.

"Arthur could be back any minute, and I haven't even finished getting ready yet," she remarks pointedly, gesturing towards the muddy overalls lying on the floor beside the bed. Though she's already washed up, she still wants to doll herself up for his return. "Besides, I'll have all the time in the world to rest when I'm gone."

"Let me help you with your hair, at least." He offers, picking up her brush from the vanity. She nods softly, taking a seat in the chair and allowing him to start teasing her curly locks. He fondly remembers the days when Alice was younger and he would always do her hair. Gently gathering a decent amount of hair, he begins to brush through it. As relaxation washes over her, she lets out a content sigh.

"John Marston, if you don't let me go into the house I won't hesitate to geld you!" Arthur firmly warns as he attempts to approach the house.

Innocently, young Jack questions, "Uncle Arthur, what does 'geld' mean?"

John sighs with disappointment, muttering, "Well done, Morgan."

Undeterred, Arthur forcefully passes by John, heading straight for the house. To his utter surprise, he walks into an empty room, causing panic to grip him as he fears Alice may have gone into labor.

Whispering from their concealed positions, Tilly asks Alice, "Do you think he's armed?"

Alice gazes at Tilly and simply shrugs, using her fingers to count down. Suddenly, everyone bursts out of hiding, shouting "surprise" simultaneously, catching Arthur off guard.

Arthur's eyes widen, his heart pounding in his chest as the unexpected surprise sends shivers down his spine. Gradually, one by one, everyone gathers around him, holding little gifts they had thoughtfully prepared. Alice, with a mischievous smile, approaches last, her arm concealed behind her back.

"Happy Birthday, my love," she coos sweetly, her voice filled with tenderness, presenting him with a gift she had crafted. It's a personalized satchel, intricately adorned with his initials woven into the fabric. "Go ahead," she encourages, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Open it."

With trembling hands, Arthur unwraps the gift, revealing a pristine journal nestled inside. Carefully, he retrieves the journal, flipping open to the first page. To his astonishment, he finds a heartfelt note accompanied by a beautifully drawn portrait. "I love you more than words can express. I am so proud to be your wife," the page reads, depicting a tender moment of Arthur nestled beside Alice's swollen belly, his peaceful slumber mirroring the joy radiating from his face.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Arthur is rendered speechless, a warmth spreading through his chest. Gratefully, he pulls Alice into a tight embrace, his words a mixture of praise and heartfelt gratitude for the cherished gifts.

The ceremony concludes, and the jubilant celebration envelops the atmosphere. The melodic tunes fill the air, intertwining with the infectious laughter reverberating throughout the house. Arthur, unable to contain his excitement, takes Alice's hand, guiding her towards the improvised dance floor.

With synchronized movements, they sway gently to the music, their eyes illuminating with the profound love they share. However, Alice's protruding belly and shorter legs present a graceful challenge that they tackle with unwavering determination.

Chuckling lightly, Alice remarks, "Arthur, it seems like our little one can't resist joinin' in on the festivities." She says with a giggle feeling the fluttering kicks in her belly.

Arthur reciprocates with a playful response, "Seems like he's got quite the moves already." He teases experiencing each gentle kick against his own belly.

Overwhelmed by emotions, Dutch steps forward, a glimmer of adoration reflected in his eyes. "Let me show you how it's done, son."

With practiced elegance, Dutch takes Alice's hand, twirling her effortlessly across the dance floor. The other gang members erupt in cheers and laughter, reveling in the camaraderie and the contagious joy that surrounds them. Alice nestles her head against Dutch's chest as they move harmoniously to the music.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp escapes Alice's lips, her hands instinctively cradling her swelling belly. Dutch, his concern evident in his eyes, places a reassuring hand on Alice's shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"I... I think so." Alice murmurs, a cold shiver coursing through her body.

Dutch, his voice tinged with urgency, offers, "Should we go-"

Before he can finish his sentence, Alice hunches over, gripping her abdomen tightly as a wave of agony washes over her and a warmth cascades down her legs.

"My water just broke!"

#arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 arthur #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption arthur

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