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but I would die for you in secret
Part 2
summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is less complicated now that he’s going to tell Ellie that you’ve been secretly seeing each other for months. You thought their discussion would go well, but when you get home from work to a note on your front door from Joel that reads, ‘Come over, we need to talk,’ it has you immediately thinking the worst—up until he answers his door in nothing but a towel and drags you inside to fuck your brains out for the first time in his bed.
pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, explicit smut, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), Possessive Joel Miller, Dominant Joel Miller, Joel Miller has a big dick, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating (he tells you to choke on it (in a good way)), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk (so much), spit mention, biting, spanking, whatever the kink is where you’re turned on by good dads, Joel in just a towel, pregnancy discussion, fluff, the last 3k words in Ellie’s pov (truly delightful), Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, Joel giving Ellie shit, Ellie and Joel having the best discussions, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)
word count: 11.1k+
a/n: Yes, I did make my own gif because I was too lazy to try and hunt for it. I really, really wanted to write about what happened after the last chapter, and here we are. I think this will be the last one. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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The sun hadn’t risen when Joel Miller left your bed this morning.
That's how it usually was, him coming and going in the dark so no one sees him leave his house to come to yours across the street—the nights you spend together are bathed in secrecy, the two of you inhabiting your own little world, confined to the space of your home.
Why the sneaking around?
He didn’t want his daughter, Ellie, to know of his relationship with you. Over the many months you’ve been together, he’s let you in on much of what she had gone through before they got to Jackson. You understood that he’s all she has, and he’s worried that if he started openly dating, she’d think she isn’t as important to him as before or feel like Joel’s abandoning her. That’s the main reason he didn't want her to know, but with how often he brings up you being so much younger than him, and all the times he’s said you should be with someone your own age, you felt that he’s also ashamed of how old you are.
At least, that’s what you thought until the night before when he revealed his feelings for you and told you he wasn’t ashamed of you or the large gap in your ages.
When this all began, Joel was clear that all he could give you was his body—he was emotionally unavailable because he was too focused on taking care of Ellie.
Amazing sex with no strings attached? You were okay with that.
Except it wasn’t something casual, and there were strings attached.
You don’t just occasionally hook up with Joel; no, he’s at your place most nights and some days without his daughter knowing. You also can’t go out with anyone else, not that you want to—he doesn’t share or like when other men are interested in you. You aren’t any better, hating when women flirt with him, especially his next-door neighbor Sandra, who refuses to acknowledge he doesn’t want her.
Why does she, specifically, annoy you so much?
Not only does she shamelessly flirt with Joel any chance she gets, but she also touches him, her hand always ending up on his arm that he shrugs off, making him growl at her not to touch him. Does she listen? No, she still does it every time she runs into him, and it pisses you off that she doesn’t respect his boundaries. Plus, there was an incident a couple of months after he moved to Jackson where she got him over to her house under the false pretense of needing something fixed and then basically jumped him—she kissed him without his permission and came onto him, which he was not into and had him leaving immediately. He can’t stand her, and he’s been very firm with her that he’s not interested. If what she does to Joel isn’t bad enough, she creeps the fuck out of Ellie, and that pisses you off even more. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve saved the kid from talking to her; the look on Ellie’s face that screams she wants to be anywhere other than with Sandra makes your hackles rise, and a need comes over you to get the girl out of there as quickly as possible.
Has anything ever happened between Joel and Sandra to make her delusional enough to think if she keeps harassing him and his daughter, he’ll eventually want to be with her?
From what you understand, Tommy and Maria tried to set them up when he first arrived, but he declined; it truly was a case of right place, wrong time. He was polite when he rejected her and explained that his daughter needed him and that he had zero interest in starting a relationship with someone. Back then, he was completely occupied with taking care of Ellie, and dating was out of the question; it didn’t even cross his mind or was something he wanted. He was content with his fresh start in Jackson, alone with his kid to help her heal.
Why did Joel accept your advances the first time you met?
Right place, right time.
Once you moved to town, the father and daughter were settled to the point that Ellie was doing great in adjusting to life in Wyoming, and Joel felt he could finally do something for himself; you were tempting enough that he wanted to be selfish. He liked that you didn’t reek of desperation or made him feel pressured, neither of you doing anything that made the other uncomfortable. Obviously, there was a mutual attraction between you two, and the flirting went both ways; his head was already leaning toward yours when you went in for the first kiss, which he happily reciprocated.
What it came down to was he trusted you, and you were willing to do things on his terms.
And, of course, as it usually happens, feelings did develop—as his kid got better and more comfortable with living in Jackson, Joel opened up to you little by little, offering a tiny bit more of himself with each passing day and your relationship became confusing; it wasn’t only sex anymore; hasn’t been just that for a while, and it took you both over eight months to admit you’re in love, and for Joel to decide it’s time to tell Ellie, so he could actually be with you out in the open.
So, he left your bed before the sun had risen in order to be home before she woke up—that way, she wouldn’t be confused by his absence. He also planned on talking to her about what was going on between you two.
There’s this ritual he does before he leaves each morning that you’ve chalked up to him being from a different time and big on manners; your two previous sexual partners were closer to your age and nowhere near as courteous as him.
The slightest sounds will wake you, a side effect of surviving, and the moment the mattress springs squeak as he gets up, hours before you need to, your consciousness is coming back to you to assess if there’s any danger. Your ears perk at the rustle of him dressing in the dark, and you’ve learned not to spook when the blankets are pulled up to cover your bare body that gets tucked in. The kiss pressed to your hair always makes you smile at the sweetness, and you expect the whispered goodbye he says before he goes.
This morning, you didn’t expect the added ‘Love you’ at the end, which had your eyes opening and hand shooting out from under the covers to grab his, tugging him toward you. He knew what you wanted, chuckling as he leaned down to kiss your lips. You told him you loved him, too, when he straightened and started to leave, and he stopped at the doorway to get one last look at you under the dim light filtering through the gaps in your curtains from the street lamp outside, then headed home.
It’s safe to say your morning started off pretty great, and even though you didn’t see Joel after he left, the rest of your day wasn’t half bad either; it took a little turn when you got back to your house after working your job teaching at the school to a note from him on your door that read:
Come over
We need to talk
A romantic partner saying you needed to talk was never good, and worry knotted up in your belly like a ball, thinking things with Ellie didn’t go well when he told her about your relationship, and now he’s going to break up with you.
The first time you stopped by his place, you’d made the mistake of knocking; he was home alone and hadn’t known you were at the door until you rang the doorbell. It was adorable how he’d been a little embarrassed he didn’t hear you and pointed at his right ear to explain he had hearing loss. From then on, you always made sure to ring the doorbell, and you did so again, standing on his porch in the freezing cold with your winter coat on and worrying your lip between your teeth.
There’s the faint sound of him yelling from inside, “One minute!” thinking he’s upstairs, which is confirmed when you hear his heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. The deadbolt clicks as it’s unlocked, and the door is cracked open; Joel’s face appears, the rest of his body hidden.
He looks relieved to see you, and that’s a good sign. “Thank Christ, it’s you,” he says, opening the door some more to take your hand pulling you inside. The front door gets slammed shut, and your back is suddenly pressed against it, a surprised sound leaving your throat when his mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard.
This is an even better sign that everything is okay.
He’s never kissed you in his house before.
One of his big palms cradles your face, the other locking the deadbolt beside you before it glides up your jacket-covered front to squeeze your breast. Your lips part to allow his tongue to delve inside and tangle with your own, looping your arms around his neck automatically. This kiss has your brain fritzing out, unable to think about anything except how he’s claimed you with his lips and tongue so fiercely and possessively while his large body cages you in. It’s embarrassing how long it takes a coherent thought to come through, and when it does, you’re lightly pushing at his chest, the surprise of bare skin under your hand causing you to break your mouth away to look at his body immediately.
A disappointed noise comes from him, and your eyes go wide at what you see.
“You’re naked,” you whisper.
His hand lightly holds your throat as he starts kissing along your jaw. “I’m not naked—I’m wearin’ a towel.”
That’s true. The faded blue towel is wrapped tightly around his waist, stopping just before it reaches his knees. His upper body is entirely bare, with pink and silvery scars etched all over his skin. No matter how many times you see him naked, you’re always so surprised by his broadness—it’s not a trick of his clothing or lighting that makes him appear big; he is that big.
“Still pretty naked.” You remember the thought you had. “Is Ellie home?”
“No,” he says into your skin. “She’s with Cat—” Her best friend. “—and they’re meetin’ us for dinner later.” His mouth is at your ear, feeling his hot breath, and shivering when he rasps into it, “Now, stop worryin’ about her, and let me take you up to my room so I can finally fuck you in my bed—I’ve been dyin’ to break it in with you.”
The proposition makes your cunt clench, and you’re interested in seeing his bedroom—he’s never invited you upstairs.
“Is this why you really wanted me to come over, to christen your bed?”
He pulls back to meet your gaze. “Didn’t want to scandalize the neighbors by puttin’ it in writin’, but yes.” His eyes darken as he slowly unzips your coat. “You comin’ up with me?” His voice deepens, nudging his nose against yours. “Since you’re my guest, we’ll do whatever you want.”
Joel always considers what you want, but he also seems instinctively aware of what you need—that’s the great thing about being with someone so much older and experienced; he knows how to play your body and make you feel so good that you’re happy to go along for the incredible ride.
With him saying you’ll do whatever you want, he’s letting you call the shots.
Your eyebrow raises. “Anything?”
“Within reason.” He kisses your chin, your skin tingling under his lips.
“Is there anything we did last night that’s not within reason…?”
The previous night, you weren’t expecting to see Joel because he’d been taking care of a sick Ellie for the prior few days. When he arrived at your place unannounced, he found you trying to make yourself come on your fingers and ordered you to finish as he jerked off, watching you. Then he fucked your brains out until your limbs were jelly and surprised you by asking if he could come inside you—something he avoided in the past and had only accidentally happened a handful of times.
His head moves to look you in the eyes.
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s all within reason.”
That sentence excites you. “Let’s go,” you say quickly. He chuckles and helps you remove your jacket, hanging it on the nearby coat rack, which only has a few other items.
He grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs, the third step from the top creaking loudly under each of your weights.
You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting his bedroom to be like, but when you walk into it, you take a moment glancing around at everything; there’s his queen-sized bed that’s neatly made, he’s got a record player over in the corner with a stack of vinyl records next to it, a couple of landscape paintings of pastures decorate his walls, there’s a walk-in closet not even close to full of clothes, his own private bathroom, and on top of his dresser is a few framed photos—one of Ellie playing guitar, beside that, Joel and her standing next to each other laughing. The third has you walking over to pick it up.
“Joel?”
He’s shut the door, and his bare feet pad across the floor, moving toward you.
“Yeah?”
“If you didn’t want Ellie to know about us, why do you have a picture of me and her in your room?”
It was taken at the town party celebrating the harvest and shows Ellie sitting beside you at a table, leaning into you with her head against your shoulder as you both smile at the camera.
“She doesn’t come in here.”
He’s next to you, and you look over at him.
“But what if she had?”
“Wouldn’t have mattered.” He shrugs and takes the photo from you, setting it back down in its spot.
You turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, and his eyes lock onto your bosom.
“What do you mean it wouldn’t have mattered?”
It takes him too long to answer, and you realize he’s distracted, so you wave your hand in front of his face. “Focus, Joel.” His gaze goes to yours.
“What?”
“What do you mean it wouldn’t have mattered if Ellie saw the picture?”
“I mean, it wouldn’t have mattered; it wouldn’t have revealed anythin’ she didn’t already know.”
“How long?”
His face pinches in confusion. “Huh?”
“How long has she known about us?”
His hands sit on his hips, and his weight goes to one side, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.
“I don’t want you gettin’ mad at me when I tell you ‘cause I had no idea she was aware; if I’d known, it would’ve been made clear long ago to everyone you’re mine. Understood?”
It’s said with such conviction it leaves zero doubt that it’s the truth, and it feels like your skin is vibrating at the fact he’s really going to make sure all of Jackson knows that you’re together now.
You smile. “God, that’s hot—yes, I understand.”
“Good—she clocked us pretty much from the beginnin’.”
“Of course she did,” you reply. “I had a feeling she’s known for a while, but since the beginning? I am both impressed and very annoyed. Why didn’t she tell you she knew?”
He grimaces. “She thought it was a subject we avoided...” He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “I guess I’m cagey when Tess comes up, mostly ‘cause I don’t even know what that relationship was, and since I never said anythin’ about you, she figured we don’t talk about our romantic partners.”
Your eyes round. “Our? Is Ellie dating someone?”
His hand lowers, and he smiles, nodding. “She said I could tell you—Ellie’s way better at the secret girlfriend stuff than I am.”
“Cat?”
His eyebrows dip down. “How’d you know?”
“Ellie looks at Cat the same way you look at me.”
A long sigh leaves him. “So, it’s true.” He sounds defeated, his shoulders slumping.
“What’s true?”
“When she was pointin’ out how obvious we’ve been, she gave me shit for starin’ at you with, she called ‘em ‘googly eyes,’ whatever the fuck that means.”
You snort and step into his space, wrapping your arms around his neck, Joel’s hands holding your hips.
“It’s this way you look at me, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was until you told me you loved me last night, and I realized it’s love; devotion—your eyes show the truth of what you’re feeling, and good news, babe.”
“What’s that?”
“You can give her shit for having googly eyes like her father.”
That seems to cheer him up, and honestly, it’s cute.
“She’s gonna hate knowin’ that—I can’t wait to tell her.”
You giggle. “So, Ellie’s really okay with us?”
“She is.” He nods.
“Good—this might sound weird.” You can’t look at him as you say this and focus on a patch of freckles on his shoulder, heat creeping up your neck. “But, um, you being a great dad and loving your kids so much—” He’s told you about Sarah. “—really does it for me. There’s something about it that’s incredibly attractive.”
“Yeah?” He ducks his head to press his lips over your pulse point, peppering kisses up your neck; his hand slides down between your legs where your warmth is felt through your jeans, rubbing over your sex. It makes you gulp, excitement sparking in your tummy.
“Yes.”
His mouth reaches your ear, tugging the lobe lightly between his teeth. His warm breath fans against your skin when he hovers his lips to whisper, “I think I know why.“
Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and pulses in your core to the same beat, feeling your need for him drip into your panties.
“W-why?”
He speaks in a huskier tone, “You know that havin’ my babies means they’d get a good father, and you have nothin’ to worry about when I fill your perfect little pussy with my come.”
Pleasure cuts through you sharp as a knife, and you moan.
“Yeah, I know you like it—is that what you want tonight, sweetheart? Want me to stuff you full?”
What he’s saying is making your skin so hot that your clothes are stifling, and you want him more than anything; you need him to ease the ache in your center.
“God, yes.”
“Then I’ll give it to you.”
You’re wondering what’s changed that suddenly has him unbothered about the possibility of getting you pregnant when he actively tried to prevent it previously—something you’ll have to inquire about later because it seems Joel’s had enough talking as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss, and he pulls your body flush against his.
It’s consuming and exhilarating.
No one has ever made you feel the way he does—the all-encompassing fiery passion that has arousal burning like an inferno in your belly, needing him so badly you think you might die if you don’t feel him inside you.
Wouldn’t that be a way to go? Dying of desperation from not getting Joel Miller’s dick—sounds kind of nice compared to the alternatives in today’s world.
You’ve also never been with someone his age.
There was this girl a little older than you that you met on your travels—you don’t find very many friendly people out in the wilds, and she joined you for maybe a week before she headed west toward Seattle. She told you one evening, as you sat by a fire under the stars together, that hands down, the best sex she ever had was with an older guy who was in his early thirties when the outbreak happened. She went on about how generous he was in actually making her come and that he knew exactly what to do; the entire experience was apparently life-changing. She swore she’d never get with anyone younger again, and you were intrigued.
When you asked her if it was weird fucking a guy old enough to be her father, she gave you a funny look, and you’ll never forget what she said:
“Ain’t nothing weird about two consenting adults having a good time.”
She had a point.
When Joel showed up at your door looking so incredibly handsome soon after you moved to Jackson, the conversation with that girl came to mind, and you decided to see if she was right, and dear god, this man in his late fifties has ruined you for anyone else—he was the first person to go down on you, he was the first person other than yourself to get you off, he was the first person to come inside you; the last one was an accident and it shocked you how much the risk turned you on.
You can’t imagine being with anyone else after him.
The kissing heats up, practically all tongues at this point, Joel’s straining cock beneath the towel pressing against you, and it’s always incredibly sexy the way he knows just what you need without you having to say a word—in less than a minute, he's stripped you of all your clothes, and has you on your back in the middle of his mattress, Joel on his knees between your spread legs, and leaning down, with your pebbled nipple sucked between his lips.
He has both of your breasts in his hands while he laves at one and then the other, the nibble of his teeth on the sensitive buds causing your pussy to weep for him, your fingers clutched in his damp, grey hair.
"Oh my god, Joel," you moan.
He loves worshipping your tits, and if you let him, he’ll play with them for hours; the problem is today, you’re on a time crunch since you have dinner plans, and you want a chance to make him feel good, too.
Your hands tug on his messy waves to get his attention, saying, "Let me suck your dick."
His head lifts, and you're met with dark eyes, his lips shiny with spit. The cool air hitting your wet skin causes goosebumps to rise.
"You want my dick in your mouth?" he asks.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay.” He grunts as he pushes himself up to kneel. He’s still wearing the towel, which is tenting in the front.
You eagerly sit up and get on your knees, shuffling toward him, and when you’re close enough, he can’t seem to help himself, his palms holding your face as he passionately kisses you. Your hands snake between your bodies to unwrap the towel around his waist, tossing it to the side without a care, and you wrap your fingers around his length that’s hard as steel and velvety smooth, feeling hot to the touch.
He nips at your bottom lip when he ends the kiss, and without another word, you’re moving back enough to get on all fours, holding your weight on one arm while your other hand grips around the base of him, and then he’s in your mouth—his girth has you opening as wide as you can, your lips stretching to their limit. He’s heavy on your tongue, taking more and more of him as you bob your head.
“That’s it, baby,” he groans. “Fuckin’ love that mouth of yours.”
Saliva is dribbling down his shaft, lubricating every stroke of your palm over what can’t fit in your mouth, his large hand guiding your head up and down his dick.
“Spit on it,” he commands. You hover your lips over him, gathering saliva on your tongue, and looking up at him through your lashes as you let it drip onto the tip of him—his pupils are blown so wide, there’s hardly any brown remaining, a gorgeous pink flush crawling up his chest and neck to paint his stubbled cheeks.
He’s watching you, his chest rumbling when you take him back into your mouth and fondle his sack in your palm.
When you first met, you were pretty inexperienced when it came to sex—you’d only slept with two men, and it hadn’t been very pleasurable on either occasion. Then Joel came along and showed you how good it could be and let you experiment to figure out what you did and didn’t enjoy. He also walked you through what he liked, which is why you know how he’s going to respond as you suck him off and gently tug on his balls. “Fuucckk,” he says in a drawn-out moan, and it has electricity dancing down your spine that you’re making him feel so good.
You go back to jerking him, your hand moving easily, twisting on the upstroke along his spit-slick cock, while bobbing your head, feeling him slide along the broad flat of your tongue to hit the back of your throat—you’re making appreciative noises that vibrate against his skin, loving him in your mouth, and how vocal he is in his enjoyment, Joel groaning, his breaths getting heavier, and slowly thrusting his hips.
You come off of him, licking a stripe from root to tip, tracing a bulging vein with your tongue, and circling the sensitive edges of the head. His cock throbs in your hand as you hold it out of the way to go lower and suck one of his balls into your mouth, massaging it with your tongue before giving the second the same treatment.
His voice is a deep baritone, the words thick with desire. “You’re so fuckin’ good to me.”
Licking back up, you swirl around the tip and sink down again, hollowing your cheeks.
His hand easily covers yours low on his shaft to keep it and himself still, his other palm going to the back of your head. “Choke on it, baby—take it down that pretty throat.”
This time when he fills your mouth and hits the back of your throat, you relax, swallowing around him, taking as much of him into the tight space as you can, and there’s enough of him that won’t fit for your fingers to wrap around—his other hand clutches your hair as he keeps your head from moving, your eyes watering, drool spilling from the corners of your lips, while his hard cock fills your throat. You’re doing the best you can to breathe through your nose.
He’s panting. “That’s fuckin’ it—so fuckin’ beautiful with my dick down your throat.” His fingers go around your neck to feel it bulge. “You love havin' my cock fillin' you, don’t you? Your pussy, your throat, you're hungry for it and can't get enough 'cause no one can make you feel as good as I do, isn’t that right?” You moan in agreement, his shaft pulsing on the flat of your tongue. “God, you make the prettiest noises for me.”
You swallow around him, and his punched-out groan has your cunt clenching hard on nothing, a layer of slick coating your inner thighs.
“Stop,” he orders, pulling you off of him and causing you to sputter. “I’m not comin’ in your mouth.”
The statement has a sharp spike of arousal erupting low in your stomach because you know this means he’s going to finish inside you, and it has you wanting him with every fiber of your being.
He gets you up on your knees, holding your chin as he smashes his lips to yours, his tongue slipping inside where he sucks on your own. Your heart is hammering in your chest, moaning as the fingers of his free hand pinch and roll your stiff nipple, and you’re trying to convince your lungs that you’ll be okay without oxygen for another minute when his mouth suddenly leaves yours. Your chin is still cradled in his palm, Joel’s breaths coming out hard as he shoves his face against the side of yours and lightly bites the apple of your cheek before his lips are at your ear.
The sides of your faces are touching, his stubble prickling against your skin. “Now what?” he asks. Anticipation has you practically vibrating. “You got to suck my dick, what do you want now? You’re in charge—my fingers? Want me to eat your pussy? Or my cock without me loosenin’ you up so you’ll feel it tomorrow?” He smacks your ass with his other palm, and you gasp. “Tell me.”
Joel is very well-endowed, especially in terms of girth, and he’s aware of this fact; unless you tell him not to, he always gets you off before he fucks you, so it relaxes your muscles and makes it easier to take him. Right now, you need him inside you too much to have the patience for any more foreplay, so be it if you’re a little uncomfortable tomorrow.
You swallow before you answer. “Dick, please.”
“How do you want it?”
“Your choice.”
“You got it, baby.”
He grabs a handful of your asscheek, then gives it a spank and kisses your cheek, letting go of your chin to slide his fingers through the slick lips of your sex, his face coming into your line of sight.
It’s clear in his darkened eyes how much he wants you.
“You get so fuckin’ wet for me,” he says and presses two thick fingers inside you, your mouth falling open when he starts pumping. The tips press into something magical you can never reach, no matter how many times you try. “This needy pussy can’t get enough of my dick,” he continues. “You want it? Want me to stretch you open? Make you feel it tomorrow and come so deep in your sweet little cunt I’m drippin’ from you for days?”
He has you feeling so hot you think you might combust.
“Yes.”
A quick kiss is pressed to your lips. “Hands and knees,” he orders, slipping his fingers out of you.
His way of helping you get into position is manhandling you until your hands and knees sink into the mattress with him behind you—he fucked you hard face down, ass up the night before, and you’re wondering if he’s going to give you an encore.
His fingers dig into your asscheeks as he spreads them and spits on your pussy, feeling the hot saliva start to drip, and hearing him repeat the action on his digits, that he uses to wet his cock. Joel slides himself through your folds and presses to your entrance, your hips pushing back enough to engulf the tip of him—a palm lands on your ass with a loud smack, the sting causing your head to fall forward between your shoulders with a moan, his other hand firm on your waist to stop your movements.
“Don’t be greedy,” he grumbles, slapping your ass again. “I gotta go slow so I don’t hurt you.”
You whine because you want him inside you already.
“You’re real fuckin’ needy today,” he says and slowly begins pushing in. There’s a slight burn as your tight walls stretch around him to accommodate his size, the ache in your core dissipating with every inch he feeds into your pussy. “Jesus Christ,” his tone is strained. “You’re so much tighter when I don’t make you come first—you’re chokin’ me.” Your fingers are clawing at the bedspread, your heart’s pounding, and sweat is starting to bead on your skin. There’s one word repeating over and over in your head: Big.
He takes his time; the seconds that tick by feel like hours, and once he’s fully sheathed inside you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in—the familiar fullness satisfies the overwhelming need you had and has something purring in the back of your mind that this is right; it’s perfect how he fills you. He was right; there’s no one else on the entire planet who could satisfy you like he does.
His large palm slides halfway up your spine. “You’re doin’ great for me, baby,” he rasps. “Takin’ me so well. Now, I’m gonna make you feel good.”
And the fact you know he is has your cunt throbbing incessantly around him.
His hands hold your waist, and he does an experimental thrust, your answering moan encouraging him to start moving—he’s slow at first, rocking his hips and letting you feel every ridge and vein on his thick cock as it moves in and out of you.
He’s pressing into heavenly spots you didn’t know existed before him, loving how deep in your depths he reaches. The waves of arousal he’s coaxing from you is soaking his dick and easing his movements.
“God, I love bein’ inside you,” he says and slaps your ass; you clamp down on him, and he groans. “You feel so damn good—fit me like a fuckin’ glove.”
You fuck yourself back on him as you whine, “It’s yours!”
He grits through his teeth, “Yes. It. Is.” Punctuating each word with a hard thrust that knocks the wind from your lungs. “It’s. Mine. You’re mine.”
His rhythm speeds up, a steady slap of his hips against yours that echoes in the room, Joel grunting with each stroke and your moans coming unbidden. Your ass is jiggling from the onslaught, your head is dizzy with pleasure, and heat is growing at the base of your spine, threatening to explode.
This is how you like it, getting fucked senseless.
You squeak in surprise when gun-calloused fingers grip your upper arms at the bend of your elbows and pull you up, making you arch your back, Joel tugging you back each time he thrusts forward, pounding into you hard enough your eyes roll back in your head, and your mouth opens in a silent cry—his rough sounds are slipping through his bared teeth and obscene squelching is coming from where he’s fucking into you at an unforgiving pace.
You’re quivering around him, your entire body shaking, quaking, as he pummels a spot that’s making stars dance behind your eyelids, the muscles in your belly tightening, winding, building you up higher and higher. Your skin is hot and buzzing like every nerve in your body is lit up, a thin layer of sweat coating the entirety of it.
His breathing is ragged, and he grits out the question, “Are you gonna come for me?” He doesn’t slow down. “I can feel you squeezin’ me—I know you’re close.”
His hands have an iron grip on you. Noise finally leaves your lips in stuttered moans, and you’re losing your mind at how fucking good it feels—you’re not going to last much longer.
“Once you go,” he says, “you’re takin’ me with you, and I’m fillin’ you up.”
The reminder has white-hot pleasure scorching in your abdomen, and you’re coming undone, shouting his name as your climax hits and euphoria takes over every molecule in your body.
A choked sound comes from behind you, and you get pulled back flush to him, Joel’s arm locking over your chest with his hand squeezing one of your tits while the other wraps around your throat, his lips pressing to your ear as he raggedly groans “There we fuckin’ go.” His teeth sink into your earlobe as his hips stutter, and he buries himself one last time as far as he can in your depths, whining as he comes—his cock pulses and twitches hard as he releases deep inside you, spurts and spurts of his come filling your inner walls.
There’s a chance you’ve left Earth with how you feel like you’re floating, your brain completely empty of thoughts—you’re not sure you could think if you even tried, let alone move.
You register being laid down on your side and the warm body curling around your back; an arm is over your middle, and your breast is being held in a large palm, feeling so relaxed you think you might fall asleep.
A minute passes.
Five.
Ten.
There’s a loud snore behind you.
“Joel?” It’s embarrassing how it comes out as a croak.
No response—of course, there’s no response, his left ear is pressed to the mattress, and he can barely hear out of the right. You rub your hand along his arm and lightly tap it.
He goes eerily quiet, and you know he’s awoken, but he’s taking a second to assess where he is. Joel sits up a little. “Somethin’ wrong, honey?”
Your torso slightly twists toward him, looking over your shoulder. His eyes are filled with concern when they meet yours.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you reassure him and pat his forearm. “You fell asleep, and we can’t be late meeting Ellie. Otherwise, she’ll come looking for us, and we don’t need to scar the poor girl with her finding out her dad has a very active sex life.”
He snorts, his lips turning up. “She’s not dumb—she knows why I’m at your place every night.”
“She assumes the reason you come over—it’s one thing to assume and another to know for sure, and the second one, when it happens, will probably make her puke and then look at you with disgust for a while.”
He frowns, and you can tell he’s thinking hard. “I never brought women around Sarah…” he says. “I mean, when she was older, she knew, on the incredibly rare occasions I did, that I was goin’ on dates, but that was all. I never had long-term girlfriends.”
That’s something you’re aware of. He’s told you about some of his previous relationships, including Tess. When he was younger, before the world ended, he only had a few girlfriends that didn’t last long and a lot of one-night stands; Sarah’s mom was a fling in his early twenties who disappeared as soon as their daughter was born—she didn’t want to be a mother at such a young age, and only had the baby because she couldn’t stand the guilt of the alternative.
“Oh, so Ellie knowing me and being aware we’re together is new territory for you. How does that make you feel?”
“Real fuckin’ lucky I found someone she likes and who understands that she’s my top priority—the other women I dated couldn’t stand playin’ second fiddle to Sarah even though I was always upfront that she came first before anyone else, the same thing I told you from the get-go about Ellie.”
“And that makes complete sense to me. I know I’m important to you, but it’s different; she’s your child, who you’re responsible for, so she takes precedence. After all the shit she’s been through, it’s great she found a father who loves and cares about her so much.”
He smiles. “And that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you—you get it and were more than willin’ to be with me in secret to protect her.”
You smirk. “True, it didn’t hurt that the sex is fucking spectacular, too.”
He chuckles, and you find yourself on your back with him half on top of you, happily kissing you.
Your words are muffled against his lips. “I need to ask you something.”
There’s one last kiss, then his pretty face hovers over yours.
“What do you wanna ask that’s more important than me kissin’ you?”
“Something that I need to know after everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”
His mouth downturns, and his eyebrows furrow. “Is somethin’ wrong…?”
“No, no, everything’s great,” you tell him and slide your fingers through the curls above his ears. “Has your feelings on children changed? Like, in terms of having more…?”
From the beginning, he was clear that he didn’t want any more kids, and it stressed him out whenever he accidentally finished inside you; you’d think that would put him off sleeping with you again, but he couldn’t stay away, and told you, when asked what would happen if you got pregnant, that you’d figure it out and you didn’t need to worry about him abandoning you—the last part always made you wonder how he’d be involved in your baby’s life with Ellie unaware you were together, and the only thing you could imagine was out in public, Joel taking on the role of your close friend your child calls their uncle, which is pretty depressing to think about.
He’s got an arm beside your head, holding himself up, and his other palm strokes along your cheek, his eyes softening.
“A lot has changed since I met you—you’ve turned my world on its head, sweetheart.” He smiles. “I know I swore I’d never bring another life into this world after losin’ Sarah, but Ellie came along, and I love gettin’ to be a dad again.” The fond look on his face is proof of that. “I really do. She’s a pain in my ass, but I love her, and now that we’re done hidin’ and can finally have a life with everyone knowin’ we’re together, there won’t be any doubt that it’s my baby if you got pregnant.”
Something about that excites you that he wants it to be clear he’s the father of your kid—for a second, you imagine what a child with him would look like, and it makes your heart squeeze at the thought of seeing tiny versions of his eyes and cheeks; would they inherit his elusive dimple?
“I know I’m too fuckin’ old to be takin’ care of a newborn,” he continues, “but I like the idea of havin’ one with you, and I think you’d love it. You’re so good with Ellie and all those little kids you teach. I can tell you want one of your own, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He smiles.
“Yeah, you do. You’d be a great mom. When I realized I was gonna talk to Ellie the other day and tell her about us, I thought this was somethin’ I could give you; it’s some kind of future, maybe not what you deserve, but it’s what I can offer. And it’s reassurin’ you’re gonna live a helluva lot longer than I will, so I know that if anythin’ happens to me, my children will still have their mother, along with Ellie, who I think would love bein’ a sister. So, to answer your question, yes, my feelings on havin’ more children has changed, but only with you—you’re the only woman I’d want to have a baby with.”
This revelation has you beyond excited—you’d love to have a child with him.
“It’s crazy that yesterday I didn’t know how to define what our relationship was—I knew I loved you, I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and today, we’re officially a couple and talking about having babies. At this rate, I’ll be moving in with you tomorrow.”
“Do you wanna?” he asks, looking completely serious.
Your eyes widen as you stare. “What? I was joking, Joel.”
“And I’m not jokin’, especially about havin’ you here all the time. I don’t want us livin’ separately if we do the baby thing, and you know I’m almost done remodelin’ the garage out back into an apartment for Ellie.”
Joel was pretty upset the night he came over after Ellie asked about having her own living space. It happened two or three months into seeing each other, and he’d been distraught that she was at an age where she wanted more independence and didn’t want to spend as much time with him now that she had friends—something else he never got to experience with Sarah and it really twisted the knife in his gut. There was no way the town council would give a teenager a house, so Joel agreed to convert the garage into an apartment for her.
“Are we moving too fast?” you ask.
When you say out loud everything that’s happened in the last day and your plans for the near future, it sounds like you’re moving too fast, but it doesn’t feel that way.
His eyebrow rose. “Baby, we could die tomorrow. Life these days is too fuckin’ uncertain to be worryin’ about movin’ too fast, and we should do what makes us happy.”
He’s right, and it isn’t a bad idea…
“I’ll only agree to move in if Ellie says it’s okay.”
Your response has Joel chuckling as he kisses you.
“Wait, I have another question,” your words are said into his lips.
His mouth breaks away from yours as he sighs and presses his forehead to yours.
“I love you more than anythin’, but can I please kiss you without interruptions?”
“If you answer this question, we can make out—with tongue.”
His head lifts, and he looks confused. “It’s not makin’ out if there isn’t tongue.”
“Do you wanna make out or not?”
His expression turns grumpy. “Yes, so ask your damn question.”
“What would you have done if you opened the door in just your towel, and it was Sandra instead of me?”
“I would’ve shut the fuckin’ door—now kiss me. I was promised tongue.”
Snow.
So much fucking snow.
Ellie hated winter in Boston, but Jackson? It’s a new kind of hell with how much of the freezing, white bullshit falls from the sky to blanket everything. On the days when she’s assigned the job of shoveling walkways down the main streets of the town, she wishes the bite on her arm had done her in—a dark thought, yes, but that’s how much she despises doing it.
The only positive thing about getting sick was not having to work; the biggest negative was Joel and how he was worrying so much he wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone. Yeah, it’s sweet, or whatever, that he cares so much, but this guy literally watched her sleep—he sat at the window seat in her room every night to keep an eye on her, and if she woke up, which happened a lot from the coughing, he was there at the side of her bed asking if she needed anything, and touching her forehead to check her temperature.
Thank god, his secret girlfriend came by when she did because Ellie was so close to stabbing him if he asked her how she was feeling one more time; her friends kept her sane the next day when they checked in on her, and luckily, by then she was pretty much over her sickness, and Joel had finally started to chill the fuck out.
That night, she thankfully got to sleep alone in her room, and it wasn’t surprising when she heard the third step down the staircase loudly creak—she’d tried everything, and there was no way to step on it without it making noise—a sign Joel was going across the street.
Oh, Ellie figured out something was going on between Joel and their across-the-street neighbor not too long after she moved in.
What tipped Ellie off was one day she was walking home after work and had almost arrived at their house when she saw the two of them chatting at her and Joel’s front door. Nothing fishy about that, right? Wrong. Joel was smiling as he spoke to the woman, and it wasn’t one of his fake, polite smiles he does when he’s trying to make himself look less scary and somewhat approachable; no, this was a genuine smile, with some teeth showing, and a rare sighting of the dimple in his cheek—it makes her gag to even think this, but she’d call the smile, charming.
Yuck.
Who wants to think about the guy that’s basically their dad trying to charm someone?
Disgusting.
If the smile wasn’t suspicious enough, the moment he spotted Ellie, it suddenly disappeared—why wouldn't Joel want her seeing him being so friendly with the new neighbor? Probably because he was hiding something; she’ll admit it also could’ve been so she didn’t tease him about having a crush, but the thing is, she wouldn’t have, which is really fucking surprising with how much shit she gives him.
See, she’s not stupid; she knows Joel’s made taking care of her his life’s purpose since they left Boston and that he loves her as if she were his own kid; not to get mushy, but she loves the grumpy fucker, too, and she wants him to be happy, like she is—he’s the reason her life is so good now, and it was time that he did something that’d make him happy. So, Ellie isn’t going to be a dick about him putting himself out there because she doesn’t want to discourage him.
Once Ellie was onto them, it was so freaking obvious that they were a thing—anytime they ran into the neighbor, Joel actually talked to her, instead of his usual one to two-word responses, he gave everyone else who wasn’t Ellie or Tommy. Joel always watched her if she was nearby and went over to her house the moment she asked him to fix something or help her—Ellie’s pretty sure a lot of the tasks were bullshit, and it was their excuse to see each other. Then there’s the damning evidence of Joel sneaking out almost every night; there was a night she got to a window in time to see him sticking to the shadows as he made his way across the street, and it confirmed everything.
He was pretty hush about his relationship with Tess—they’ve discussed her in general, and Ellie knows they had some kind of relationship; she’s just not sure if they were, you know, dating or in love. So, with Joel keeping quiet about what he’s got going on with their young neighbor, Ellie assumed he was just a private guy when it came to that stuff, and it was something they didn’t talk about, figuring if things got serious enough, he’d bring it up.
And hey, she’s hinted that she knows by inviting his secret girlfriend to eat and do stuff with them; Ellie’s even attempted to get the older woman to admit they’re together, but she wouldn’t break, no matter how hard the teen tried.
Then Ellie accidentally overslept at her girlfriend’s this morning and didn’t make it home before Joel, and now they’re both aware of the other’s love life. She won’t lie; it made her unbelievably happy that he didn’t give a single fuck she was dating a girl—he had more of a reaction to her getting a tattoo than her telling him she had a girlfriend, and she’s glad he didn’t make a big deal about it, not that she thought for a minute he wouldn’t be cool with her being with a lady since he was chill when she told him she didn’t like boys not too long after they got to Jackson; plus, the guy was really good friends with Bill and Frank, after all—he’s told her he’s glad she never got a chance to meet Bill because apparently, they would’ve caused a lot of trouble together and possibly taken over the world, which sounded pretty fucking great to her.
The snow crunches under her boots as she walks down the road on their way to the mess hall, her girlfriend, Cat, beside her, chatting about their days. Since she recovered from being sick yesterday, she had to go back to work today, and thankfully, she was assigned an easy job—animal feeding duty, which is both easy and fun.
“Shit, it’s Sandra!” Ellie hisses, grabbing Cat’s hand, “Hide!” She tugs the other girl behind a giant snow-covered bush. She peeks around it, seeing the bane of her and Joel’s existence walking up the street from the opposite direction, probably heading to the mess hall for dinner, too. The other woman is pretty far away, but Ellie doesn’t want to risk her seeing them.
“Why do we avoid Sandra again?” her girlfriend asks.
Ellie’s head turns her way; Cat’s wearing a purple beanie and an oversized navy blue coat, her dark eyes meeting Ellie’s. “God, where to start,” she says and takes a deep breath. “So, when we first moved here, Tommy and Maria tried to get Joel to go out with Sandra since they thought she was a great match for him—she’s also from Texas, pretty, widowed, and has no kids. Anyways, they tried to set them up, but Joel didn’t want to go out with her or anyone else. He was super polite when he turned her down. I guess Sandra took that as him playing hard to get, and she hasn’t left him alone since.”
“So, you avoid her, too…?”
“Oh, right—she wants to be my mom.”
“What…?”
“Yeah, every time she talks to me alone, she likes to bring up how I could use a mom, or wouldn’t it be great if I had one to take care of me and my dad—” Ellie makes a face. “—it’s always so fucking weird calling Joel that out loud.” He pretty much is her dad and she won’t correct anyone who refers to him as such, but to her, he’s Joel. “I think when she says that creepy stuff, she’s trying to get me to convince Joel to date her, but we both agree she’s nuts. Like, I overheard Joel talking to Tommy once, and apparently, some months after we got here, she came over to our house and asked if he could fix something at hers, and he went because Joel might be a bit of a grumpy dick, he’s still a good guy, and she kissed him and was all over him—you get the picture—and he got the fuck out of there, and isn’t as polite when he tells her to leave him alone now.”
“He’s made it clear he’s not interested, and she still won’t get the hint…? Does she know there are other single men in town…?”
“She only has eyes for Joel. I don’t think she’s used to men rejecting her, so now it’s her goal to get him. I mean, she’s persistent. If she sees me or him together or separately, she always talks to us; it’s awkward, and I have to tell you it’s disturbing watching someone flirt with Joel so hard—she’s not subtle at all. It’s honestly weird, and Joel is completely over it. I just don’t get why so many women in this town are into his old ass.”
Ellie has witnessed many women shoot their shots with Joel and get turned down, which is another thing that gave him and his girlfriend away—they never openly flirted, but there is a lot of friendly touching, which is out of character for Joel. The first time Ellie saw Joel open a door and guide the other woman inside with a hand on her back, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from yelling, ‘Aha!’
“It makes no sense to me,” she continues. “This dude’s old enough to be my grandpa, he’s only got one good ear, he’s weird looking, and after a few days not showering, his feet smell so fucking bad you’ll want to chop your nose off—I swear the only reason we didn’t run into more infected while traveling is because Joel’s disgusting stench scared them away.”
Cat snorts. “You’ve mentioned how bad he smelled a lot.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t un-smell him, and it fucking haunts me.” She shudders. “Now, back on topic, Sandra creeps Joel and me the fuck out, and I’m positive his secret girlfriend would’ve murdered her by now if she wasn’t a secret.”
“Hopefully, Sandra will back off now that Joel’s relationship is no longer a secret.”
“That’d be so nice, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“I know you’ve never said anything, but does it bother you how young his girlfriend is?”
Ellie’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would it bother me?” she asks. “She’s an adult and can do whatever she fucking wants. I mean, I don’t understand why she’d willingly choose to be with such an old, ugly, grumpy man, but that’s her deal, and she’s pretty cool. I’m just glad Joel got with someone I like and get along with.” A horrible thought comes to her. “God, imagine if he had started dating Sandra, and I had to pretend to like her and not be weirded out by her trying to be my mom? Yeah, who gives a fuck that his girlfriend is closer to my age than his, she’s not weird and makes him happy, and that’s all that matters.” Something pops up in her brain, and she smiles. “Oh my god, Cat—” She grabs the other girl’s arm and shakes it in excitement. “—what if they had a kid? I could be a sister!” That’d be amazing. She’s always wanted a sibling. Her hands go still, and her eyebrows pull together; she’s lost feeling in the tip of her nose with how cold it is. “Wait,” she starts, “is Joel too old to have a baby? Like, I mean his stuff—” She gags. “—you know what I’m talking about. Does it go bad with age? He’s really fucking old.” Cat’s trying hard not to laugh, her gloved palm over her mouth, and Ellie shoves a finger at her. “Don’t make fun of me for not knowing! What I learned in school was pretty basic, so I know how babies are made—revolting, by the way—there’s just a lot of shit they didn’t explain in detail, and don’t get me started on the awkward as fuck conversation Joel tried to have with me when I started hanging out with Dina and Jesse.” Jesse was the first boy her age she befriended in Jackson.
“The one where in the middle of him telling you boys will say anything to get into your pants, you shouted that you didn’t like boys?”
“Ugh, yes, and then he asked me if I liked girls, and I wasn’t completely sure, so I answered maybe, and he said—” She lowers her voice to try and mimic his. “‘Well, shit, I don’t know what the sex talk is for my daughter likin’ girls’—” She spoke normally again, “You know what, I’m actually impressed with what he pulled out of his ass.” He ensured she really understood what consent is and walked her through what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like.
“To answer your question, Joel isn’t too old to have a kid.”
Ellie grins. “Wicked.” She looks around the bush to check if the coast is clear. “Looks like she’s gone. Let’s get out of here.”
When they get to the mess hall, the mood is… weird.
There’s a lot of whispering and people sneaking looks in the same direction. It only takes her a second to figure out what’s stealing everyone’s attention, and her nose crinkles at the sight.
“Cat?” She’s still staring, the other girl standing beside her.
“Yeah?”
“Am I seeing things, or is Joel really playing tonsil hockey with his not-so-secret girlfriend at our table?”
“Um, I can’t tell if they’re using tongue, but they’re definitely kissing.”
That’s obvious—the man and woman are sitting next to each other on one side of the table with their coats off, their upper bodies turned toward one another, and faces mashed together, Joel’s massive hand holding the side of her head.
“It’s weird feeling both happy for him and wanting to puke simultaneously.”
“I get it. Wanna see something that will make you feel better?”
She glances at her. “What is it?”
Cat nods her head toward a table. “Look.”
Her attention goes to where she indicated, finding Sandra clearly pissed off and glaring daggers at the couple making out, her hand clutching a fork so tight her knuckles are white.
Ellie is delighted and pulls Cat along to join Joel and his girlfriend.
“Please tell me,” she says, as they get to the table and start removing their gloves and jackets, “that you guys are being disgusting right now for the audience and that this won’t be a regular thing.”
Their mouths detach, Joel’s arm around the woman’s back while resting his other hand on the tabletop. There were trays of food for all four of them at each of their seats Joel must’ve gotten, Ellie noticing it was chili and cornbread night. The man looks at her with a close-lipped smile.
“It won’t be a regular thing—” he replies.
“—thank god,” she interrupts and sits down, Cat joining her.
“—in front of you,” he continues.
“That’s fine by me.”
He grabs his small bowl of dessert and slides it over to her.
“Peach cobbler!” she exclaims. “Fuck yeah!”
Not to be sentimental, but Ellie knows that every night they have dinner, and Joel passes her his dessert so she’ll have two, it’s him saying without words that he loves her—that’s just how they are; they suck at speaking their feelings, so they show how much they care for the other with random things like that.
“Thanks, Joel!” She ignores the chili and slice of cornbread and immediately starts digging into one of the cobblers.
“You’re welcome, Ellie—what took you guys so long? We were expectin’ you to be here before us.”
“We had to hide,” she says around a bite—it tastes so fucking good; peach cobbler is her favorite.
Joel's expression turns to one of concern. “Who the hell were you hidin’ from?”
Their girlfriends had started eating.
She swallows, giving him a look. “Who do you think?” She juts her thumb behind her. “Miss Crazypants over there, who—” She turns in her seat to find Sandra still looking pissed. “—might be Miss Murderpants now.”
“Stop starin’ and pointin’,” Joel hisses, and she faces him again.
Ellie rolls her eyes. “The woman annoys the fuck out of us, and you’re telling me not to be rude to her? A bit hypocritical, seeing as you’re clearly rubbing it in her face that you’re seeing someone.”
His jaw clenches. “That’s different.”
Her eyebrows dip together. “What?”
He adjusts in his chair to lean forward a little and starts whispering, “I want her to see us, so she’ll get the hint and leave us the fuck alone—I also want the whole town buzzin’ about me bein’ in a relationship tomorrow.”
“The first part of that, I get; the second bit, you lost me. It’s not like you to want to be the subject of town gossip.”
He straightens and picks up his spoon. “Don’t worry about it, and eat.”
That’s Joel speak for, ‘I’m done discussing this topic.’
“Okay, you fuckin’ weirdo,” she mumbles and takes another bite.
There’s some talking as they eat between all four of them. Joel seems incredibly interested in Cat’s hobby of tattooing people, which Ellie guesses is because she told him she was getting one. He’s probably just ensuring it’ll be safe and that she won’t have to worry about infections or whatever else could go wrong.
Ellie has completely demolished all the food on her tray and is stuffed, taking a big gulp of her water. She sets the cup down.
“So,” she begins, “how serious is this?” She points between the couple across from her. “Is this a fling? Is she moving in? Are you guys getting married? What can I expect?”
Joel swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin, which he clutches in his fist as he lays it on the table.
“It’s serious,” he says. “We wanted to talk to you about her movin’ in.”
She figured that would be the case with how much time they spend together at night. Ellie’s not against the idea, but she also does not under any circumstance want to know what they do when they’re alone. She has an idea; she’s not dumb. She just prefers not having any solid evidence.
Ellie pushes her tray forward and crosses her arms on the tabletop.
“Here’s the deal: I’ll be fine with her moving in under one condition.”
He looks curious. “What’s that?”
“Whatever you guys do alone in the bedroom happens when I’m not home; I don’t wanna hear shit, I can’t unhear, and I absolutely do not want to see anything I can’t unsee. It’ll only have to be like that until you finish my apartment.”
He seems to be thinking it over. “Deal.”
“You assholes gonna get married?”
“We haven’t discussed that yet.”
His girlfriend says, “I’m okay with marriage.”
Joel’s head whips her way, and he genuinely looks surprised.
“Really?” he asks.
Ellie snorts because the other woman is looking at him like he’s dumb. “Yeah,” she answers. “What about you?”
“I’m okay with it also.”
“Great.” She smiles.
It’s nice to see Joel so happy and to know he’s found someone. She always worried he’d die alone; sure, he’d have her, but he deserved to be loved by someone and to get good things after all of the shit he’s been through in his long fucking life.
She glances over at Cat, who’s scraping her spoon along the inside of her dessert bowl to get whatever of the cobbler is left. She’s staring at it so intently that Ellie thinks she looks adorable, and it makes her smile.
“Oh, are those the ‘googly eyes’?” she hears Joel ask the woman beside him.
“Yep,” his girlfriend answers.
Cat takes her last bite and asks them while chewing, “What are ‘googly eyes’?”
Joel sounds a little too happy, “It’s how Ellie looks at you.”
Ellie quickly turns toward him. “I don’t have ‘googly eyes’!”
She wants to wipe the smug smile off of his stupid face. “Yes, you do.”
“No, you’re lying!”
He puts a hand over his heart. “God’s honest truth, baby girl, you stare at her with ‘googly eyes.’”
Her cheeks feel hot, and she wants the floor to swallow her whole. “This is so embarrassing.” She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore and remembers something.
Joel’s smiling. “It’s cute.” He starts drinking his water.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m cute, whatever,” she says, swatting away his words with her hand. She focuses on him, leaning over her arms on the table. “You know what would be really cute, now that you’ve got a girlfriend, and I think it’s still possible at your age, you’re pretty fucking old, though, but if it is possible, it’d be really cute if you guys had a baby.” She grins and nods her head.
Joel sputters and starts coughing hard. It takes him a moment to speak, and the look on his face is a mixture of confusion and anger.
“The hell do you mean if it’s possible at my age?!” he rumbles. ”I’m fifty-eight, not dead!”
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Water is Thicker Than Blood Chapter 55
These sibs really love cutting right to the point.
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Again, i was not confident i would be able to finish this chapter this week, but i locked tf in and just kept drawing lol and HERE WE ARE!!!! i hope you enjoy :)
#my art#one piece#sabo#monkey d. luffy#asl brothers#one piece fan art#portgas d. ace#wittb#water is thicker than blood comic#wittb emmanuel#op sally#op sarie
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Sansûkh the Webcomic: Chapter 2: Pages 29-30
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ch1 p38-46
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12. stormy sky
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter twelve of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.6k
chapter warnings: anxious!reader. allusions to bad mental health day/sadness. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n.
an: this one is dedicated to all those who sometimes just need a day, a hug and a love. i see you, and i love you (notes at the bottom).
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key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
It wasn’t often you felt the storm coming before it arrived.
At times, it was kind enough to make itself more obviously known than on other occasions. Sometimes, it just happened, almost beyond your control—a feeling that wells up inside, leaving you in a funk for a day or two.
An unexplainable force that commands you to smile outwardly but crumble inwardly.
Then, you rise again the next morning, or in a few, completely anew—like nothing had ever happened.
Occasionally, it rides in on unexplainable sadness that follows you like a rain cloud, spreading out into swelling grief that chokes you from the inside out. Other times, it would be a headache that bloomed behind your eyes into something uncontrollable, unmanageable, that only settled with bedsheets and darkness.
As soon as the email appeared in your inbox, you felt the latter. It throbbing, pulsing—beginning somewhere between your second to final nerve.
Things shifting; a wave forming. One which rose inside of you when you weren’t aligning with the person you were working with. It growing. Swelling. Expanding inside of you to the point you were sure it was going to dislodge bone and deform you forever. The words on the screen slowly blur, barely discernible as sentences and not just another paragraph of failure.
You knew this could happen. From time to time creative visions weren't always going to align. A thing you reminded yourself of regularly, routinely. Telling yourself it in the shower, mirror or as you make your third coffee past midnight.
It never does lessen the sting, though.
Just like now, when your hand can't seem to stop slamming the lid of your laptop shut, or when you find yourself nervously nursing your lower lip between your teeth, a bubbling sensation begins within. Your mind fractures, allowing a flood of negative thoughts to pour forth, corroding, spewing and slathering itself over everything good.
You clutch at your phone, feeling the rubber of your case. Not even thinking; not even checking the time—just calling.
And hoping.
Waiting.
As soon as you hear his sunshine-like voice say your name and 'Are you okay?' (practically spoken as one word), you feel yourself take a breath.
Becoming aware, only then, of how damp your cheeks are, that your hand is shaking as he repeats the question, more gently, less dunked in worry.
Surprisingly, it feels easy to say no. To unravel silently to him as he asks you a question you rarely have been asked: 'Do you want to talk about it or something different?'
It’s small, a simple thing. But your heart swells. Your shoulders unlodge themselves from your ears and your spine softens, making the choice, all with far too much ease. Taking in the sound of his voice as he clears it, you hear him ask lowly and gruffly if you're comfortable before he begins explaining how he has a non-permanent tattoo of a creature on his arm.
Not a dinosaur, Rainy. Not even something born or created from Jurassic Park—and how he was worried that due to its placement, people would think Harold’s had become rougher, more dangerous business.
“Dangerous?”
You swear you hear him shrug. “People might see me, all tattooed up and think the worst of the place.”
Giggling, your fingers massage your head. “Where is it?”
“Guess.”
For a brief moment, like when light shines from behind the clouds, you grin. Guessing, naming body parts you know it couldn’t be, but only to hear his laugh—bathe in the joy that he can only summon, rinse your woes in it in the hope tomorrow you wake lighter.
“Ass.”
“They’d definitely think Harold’s had fucking changed if my ass is out baby.”
Smirking, climbing into bed (his advice, one you happily took). “I think I’d visit more. It’s peachy.”
Peachy he scoffs, but you swear he’s grinning. Adjusting the t-shirt as you lie down—one of his, stolen (with permission) from the drawer you’d made for him, taking in the scent of him, all musk, wood and man as you welded it with the voice as you discover it’s on his cheek.
“How are you going to explain that one?”
His laugh flows down the phone, meeting your ear as you lean against your pillows, trying (with all that you have) to almost convince yourself that he was here—and not streets and streets away.
Morning, guess what doesn’t come off with soap and a scrub? A monster.
Hope you slept okay, baby. Can bring a coffee round on my break. Can even see if I can sweet-talk a larger one for you. Put it in a flask.
Rainy, you awake?
Baby I don’t mean to worry, I bet you’re fine, just busy caught up in doing work, but just let me know you’re okay.
I have the spare key still from that delivery. If you don’t want to see me, tell me.
You’re not sure of the time—drifting on wood out at the sea of your own making. Having done so for a while.
Distantly aware of the passing of time. That it was no longer 3 am, which had been the last time you'd last checked the time. The sun is far too bright through your curtains; desperate to claw its fingers in and yank you from your sheets.
It doesn't, can't.
Instead, you're floating; lost somewhere between awake and asleep—only being disturbed, rocked from it, at the sound of your front door opening. The stiffness of the door, the squeak of a floorboard. All things which should fill you with alarm, but barely make your head move.
Because it's thumping.
Pounding.
Too much stuffed in there to do anything but lie there. Split at the seams, the rest of you shaken like a snow globe.
It crosses your mind—briefly—that if they were here to rob you, they’d find very little to take. If they were here for you, they were most definitely mistaken. Your eyes struggle to stay open, even if your ears are tuning, trying to twist to each noise, only relaxing when you hear the intruder mutter fuck.
Because you know that fuck. Know the exact voice as though it lives in your head with the one that wouldn't quiet at 3 am.
For the most part, you have to admit Frankie is quiet. A skill he likely gained from his former life, the one where it was a necessity. He just didn’t know your home. You only being able to tell he’s here from the little things, like that he’s not completely aware your front door gets a little stuck when it’s really warm and that some floorboards are looser than others.
In the same way, he doesn’t know that if you open your partially shut bedroom door slowly, it groans like it’s being personally offended—
“Mierda.”
You’re sure you croak a Hi Frankie.
You think it anyway; wanting to give an invitation to come closer, to move further in as your eyes try to focus on the money tree named Moana. With each blink, the leaves slowly come into focus as you begin to adapt to the brightness cast in by, what you now assume must be the afternoon. Blinking when you see him crouch down, all soft curls and silky brown eyes.
“You worried me.”
Swallowing, struggling to shove the dryness back, you clear your throat. “Headache.”
He’s gentle, slowly placing his palm on the side of your head, thumb brushing over the skin above your brow as he shifts in his crouched position. “Worse than that time you told me about?”
“About the same.”
It’s quiet, the way he answers with okay. Thumb doing a final swipe before you hear a pop of his knee as he stands, a mumble of Be right back, baby before the floorboards creek and you can hear him opening and closing cupboards in your kitchen. With a sigh, you close your eyes briefly, being roused by a gentle breeze caressing your cheek to find he'd returned, a glass of water in one hand and a crinkling packet in the other.
“Do you want to get in?”
“Sure,” he says, in the familiar deep voice—as you shuffle with ease.
Not daring to lift your head, to move too quickly or violently. The mattress dips as the bed groans when he throws his feet up, sliding into the warmth you’ve been creating for hours, finding his eyes—how that worry is still there. It swirling, likely mixing with the gold flecks and deep browns you admire every chance you can get.
You worry you've spoiled them, tainted them. Made them swirl with sadness caused by worry. And the thought makes your insides hum, as though someone has plucked all your strings. The twang of it trying to mix with the other emotions you don't feel equipped to unpiece.
“I’m s—”
“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, firmly. Not accompanied by any smile.
A thing you know he means when he asks you, voice wrapped in satin, if you can take a sip for him. His arm slides around you, trying to pull you close as you do more than that, but rather consume, drain, and finish the glass.
When you hand it back, you think about the fact that a you with your head not coming apart might have teased him, might even throw your leg over his and asked him if he thinks sex gets rid of migraines like it does headaches. But, the words catch, stick and clag to the roof of your mouth.
Something rising, the emotions you’d shoved down trying to weave up. Climb. Stick their spikes into your oesophagus and crawl out your mouth. That is, until his palm spreads out, the width of his fingers sliding further up and along your spine. The act aiding you, guiding you to take a measured breath. One that stammers, hammers. One that floods inside of your chest, rising and rising like it wishes to crash against a beach and take everything to shore—
But, then it eases, calms.
All being gobbled back up, calmer waves lapping as you shift, seeing him lit by muffled, golden yellow. Listening to his heart, the breaths he takes as you try to follow them—even the scratching of his beard as he tucks himself closer and asks nothing, except silently, to be here.
Eventually, when you stop counting seconds, the quiet is broken—not rudely, or unnecessarily, but just with: “What can I do?”
“You’ve done it.”
Turning to see him—to find the gaze you know will already be on you. To look at the face you think of and have truthfully only wanted to see, there. You begin to explain, letting it all unravel, it unspooling from your tongue. Maybe sharing too much, like that no one you’ve dated has shown up like this before, and that you don’t ever expect him to do it again.
Shifting closer, as you continue talking, eyes closed to not aggravate what is trying to lessen, as you add extra context, sharing what happens, that you’re okay—but that sometimes you’re not. Statements, mainly. Likely broken sentences you somehow mash into paragraphs. Filling in the gaps, from the last weeks to now, to the email and then the call. How it happened—
“Maybe it’s because I’m happy.”
“Hmm?”
Shrugging gently against him, your chest fills with air before you exhale it in one long drag through your nose. “Maybe because I’m happy, my work isn’t that good.”
“Maybe.” His fingers find your chin, turning your eyes to his. “Or maybe he’s got very high expectations and the two of you just aren’t a good fit.”
Chewing your lip, you lower your gaze. “Yeah, maybe.” Unconsciously turning into the palm resting on your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as you dare yourself to find his eyes. “I really hate people sometimes.”
Snorting, you feel his lips press to your forehead. “Let me tell you about this fucking asshole who tried to tell me the white paint he was buying wasn’t white.”
You press yourself closer to him ready to listen, hand sliding across his middle as you grasp more of his shirt, finding the smallest smile trying to crack through.
The next time you wake it’s to the smell of breakfast.
There's humming too, occasional words floating from the kitchen through the open door of your bedroom.
A coy smile already tugging across your cheek, the storm having waned, moved to the distance. But still, you test to see if it's safe as you lift from the pillows—sleep rubbed from your eyes as you spot the crumpled side of the bed. See the empty glass you’d drank before he held you, the jacket he’d been wearing when he’d showed up impromptu folded on the floor near the dresser.
Then, the grossness hits. The awareness that your skin feels claggy and awful, shuffling your feet from the bed, all the way to your bathroom.
His t-shirt peels from you with reluctance. The sadness eventually glides down the drain as the water falls down your skin—stepping out feeling refreshed.
Smiling as you head down the hallway, not forcing a smile as you slide your hands around his waist, fingers moving under the band of his tee, as they stroke over soft, warm skin and the dark hairs that swirl across his middle.
“Thank you,” you say, the words so large you hope they land with the weight you intend them to.
He turns and kisses you, whispering a don't against your minty mouth. Hovering for a moment there, before his mouth finds you again, more hungry, more laced with words as he presses you against the counter. Nowhere to go as he tilts your chin up. “You're worth showing up for, Rainy.”
You swear your heart triples in size as you bury your face in his tee and grin something stupid against him as he continues to sing whatever is playing out loud on his phone.
Do we need to go furniture shopping before or after you put the shelving in?
Probably before in case we need to order things. How’s your mini project coming along?
Well, I followed this tutorial by this very handsome man, and it seems easy to do, but my kitchen shelf isn’t straight.
Did you follow all of the instructions?
Now why would you assume I didn’t?
Because it sounds like you didn’t make sure it was level, baby.
Rude.
But did you?
I may have assumed that my eyesight was good.
How many holes do I need to fill in?
Oh, just the one.
In the wall.
Oh. Eight.
Since the moment he picked you up, you've been buzzing with excitement, just as you have been all week since he told you where he was taking you.
A skip in your step when you locked your door, the sun warming your skin in the short walk to the door he'd opened for you. Remembering how he teased you on the phone last night—you made a Pinterest board of what it could look like?—as you sat cross-legged on the couch, listening to him, shaking your head at the camera.
He handed you the coffee—brewed and made by him—only when you were seated. Another thing you were also sure had added to the swirling excitement in your stomach.
The drive, thankfully, hadn't been long. Undoing your belt when he kills the engine, his palm pressing down on your knee.
“No plants.”
“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”
Leaning across the centre of his vehicle, he pulls your lips to his. “A very polite ask.”
“You don’t fancy your own Benedict or Henry?”
The tip of his nose touching yours, “I really don’t.”
You suggested other names as the two of you walked to the store's entrance, hand slotting inside his. Only silencing from your torment when your footsteps echoed softly against the glossy tile floors—blending with the rumbles of distant, murmured conversations, phone rings and furniture being rearranged.
Suddenly, the two of you were enveloped in the scents of polished wood and fresh upholstery, a scent you’re sure you used to like, but now really freaking loved.
Because this place is nice. The soft glow of overhead lights bathed the showroom in a warm, inviting ambience—casting a gentle spotlight on each carefully curated display. It was a scene straight out of a home decor magazine—every homeowner's dream.
"C'mon, Rainy," he coos, guiding.
Adding a soft this way from the back of his throat, becoming aware of his fingers brushing over the back of your jeans—along the pockets, along the expanse of your ass as you eye him, finding that same shy smirk that could explode into something more devilishly and ridiculously hard to resist.
A thing he already is without trying.
A thing which worsens when his arm comes around and keeps your side flush to his as the two of you make the way to the rows and rows of desks.
It makes sense to begin here.
To choose the ‘centrepiece’ of the room—as Frankie had explained on the drive—because everything has to fit around it. A thing you’d teased that you thought he was good at making things fit. To which he’d, playfully, replied that he was good, but he wasn’t fit-a-desk-and-a-dresser-an-armchair-and-shelving-good. A thing you'd promptly argued.
Stepping from his side, fingers brushing over the top of one, you glance over at them all. How they’re all vying for your attention, each with a unique allure. From sleek modern to rustic wood.
Catching Frankie's eye and with a mischievous grin, you take a seat behind one of the desks.
“Frank DIY’s office, how I can hammer you a good time today?” you say into the faux telephone, “Oh, I am sure Mr Morales would be able to… bend over and get himself in—I mean, you in.”
Frankie shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you get up and sit behind another, typing on the desk as a keyboard, pretending to stare at the unplugged monitor that had no computer with it. Then moving to another, one with a desk mat and no other items than a plant that looks chewed by tiny teeth, before pulling yourself on the wheels behind one with drawers and a keyboard but nil else.
“Oh, hello sir. Your 2 o’clock is here.”
“Is that right?” he asks, folding his arms. “What am I doing for this appointment?”
Smirking, fingers poised over the keys. “They wish to know how to check if a desk is stable. For two people.”
You hear him take in a breath. Lips threatening to spread into a smirk before he clears his throat. “To work at?”
Shaking your head, you grin.
“I’ll have to call my assistant in. She’s a handful, bad with drilling, but, she can help me.”
Laughing, almost hiccuping from it, he stares down at you—palms still very flat against the desk—as it fades and spreads into a smile that hurts your cheeks. “There it is.”
“There’s what?”
“My smile.”
Eyes widening, you snort. “Your smile?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Mine.”
Rolling your lips, standing from the wheely chair, you raise your brows. Moving around the edge, fingers dancing along the wood until you’re standing perfectly in front of him—eyeing him, as always unable to take your eyes from him.
“I think I like this one,” you add, running the tips of your fingers over the smooth surface of the desk. “There’s no price though—or sizing.”
Frankie glances at it, eyes flicking from each of the sides as he likely does math gymnastics. “You’ll have a lot of space for your dresser—the butterscotch one.”
“You just know that do you?”
“Grab a measuring tape and I’ll confirm it,” he grins.
Hand on hip, you arch a brow as Frankie's laughter fills the air, but you can see it in his eyes, the challenge.
“Get it yourself, Morales.”
Pinching your ass, he walks around it. “I’ll remember that.”
Shaking your head, he snaps a photo of the desk—staring at his screen to check it before locking it. His hand offered to you.
“Chairs?”
Leaning close, voice dropping, you—all velvet-like— whisper, “Your face not on offer when I’m working?”
Pink spreads up his neck, tongue clicking against his teeth, he smiles. Grins. His fingers tighten around yours as you’re sure his eyes actually sparkle. “From the way you weren’t able to form sentences last time, not sure you’d get much work done.”
The chairs, for how colourful and varying they were, felt less fun than desk shopping. Most of them were out of reach, high up on shelves—having to assess whether they were as comfortable as they looked or if it was a lie. A game that got less and less fun the more you trailed.
Frankie, likely guessing your joy was wavering, grabbed a basket at some point—allowing you to peruse the mini plant aisles and other decorative things. For your shelves, he said, for the shelves, you replied, grinning, even as you grabbed a particularly wiry cactus you named Cisco.
“You think you’ve got at least one of everything in here?”
Fake laughing, your elbow confidently finds his side—hearing a gruff huff from him. “Almost. I just need—”
Eyes spotting it, body moving all of its own accord as though the required item had been lit under a spotlight and heaven-like noises had begun playing. Fingers gliding over each, brushing over fleece fluff that left marks of your touch, to more knitted, firmer types, too many choices all to be shared at, contemplated.
You feel it before you see it. Pain flaring from your side as your head whips—meeting the disgruntled face of another shopper, the end of their cart still firmly against your side as though somehow, you were the one who was required to move. Even after he’d practically rammed the cart into you.
“Hey man, watch it,” Frankie says, arm sliding around you, pulling you close.
The smallest of gaps made, created, between yourself and the offending cart. The pain throbbing, the embarrassment simmering, as you fight rubbing the impacted sight as it continued to pound, hearing:
And maybe, if you had looked across, you would have seen the man scoff—observed the expression that made Frankie tense even more protectively next to you You would have noticed why his usually soft smile shifted into a thin line as a storm brewed inside of him before you heard:
“She's the one in the way.”
An adult-like response if you've ever heard one. A thing you shake your head at, but reach your hand up to touch Frankie's chest, tapping lightly as you watch him visibly swallow whatever had been about to come out of his mouth. Instead, he mutters a few choice curses under his breath, shooting a silent but determined look to the person as they mumbled the most pathetic apology known.
But, you didn’t, don’t.
Because, if you had, you'd have missed the way it all vanished when his eyes met yours. How it was erased, wiped all clean. Every affliction on his face, from the hardened eyes to the twitch of his nose, slipped away back to its recess.
“You alright, baby?”
Not one blame placed on you; not even a thought to do so, as his knuckles brush your cheek.
“I’m fine, Butterscotch. It's nice to meet protective you, though.” His eyes shifting from you quickly, the deepest of reds flooding his ears, you flatten your hand to his chest. “I appreciate it.”
Meeting your stare, he swallows. “You sure you're okay?”
Biting the inside of your cheek when his palm, warm and spreading heat, begins stroking over the offended area, you nod. Grinning.
Because if anything, you're pretty sure you might be in love with him.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
notes: i've drip fed rainy's difficult client for a few chapters now, as well as her little wobbles with anxiety. i know this isn't everyone's experience, but i think we can all relate to those days when getting out of bed just feels hard. i hope you're all okay, and just know i'm always here. no one is ever alone when the grey clouds are overhead, even if they clouds hope to make us feel that way. ily all, jo.
#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#pedro pascal character fanfiction#triple frontier x reader#francisco morales fanfiction#frankie morales#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#francisco catfish morales x reader#catfish morales x reader#pedrostories#jo: dmy#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal
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chapter 35. don’t cope
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a/n: i was giggling so hard making this pls
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bros before hoes ✰ chapter 09: dance dance
wc: 0.7k
Waiting for Sunghoon, you quickly set up the cameras for your behind the scenes vlog. You were excited to practice with him again, having had so much fun the last time.
Through out the one month you’ve been MCs, you like to think you’ve gotten a lot closer. Especially after the day you practiced 7th sense together.
It was so easy to be around Sunghoon, his naturally charming and slightly awkward personality matching yours perfectly. He always knew exactly what to say, whether he was reassuring you or cheering you up. The highlight of your weeks was when you went to MC with him, always having the time of your life with his silly jokes and witty improvisations.
You’re reviewing the choreography for the dance as Sunghoon walks in, excitedly waving at you. You wave back to him, signalling him to come over to the camera.
You both stand awkwardly in front of the camera, looking at each other before you burst out giggling. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.
It was all in vain, because when you make eye contact with him again, the both of you breaking out into peals of laughter.
‘Today we’re gonna be practicing ‘woman on the beach’!!’ Your bright smile covers half the frame, your hands filling the rest as you excitedly continue to ramble about the stage.
‘I might be excited, but I don’t think Sunghoon is…’ You tilt the camera to capture Sunghoon, who looks like he’s going through the entire range of human emotion in the span of 3 seconds. He sighs, whining as he comes closer to you.
‘Why did they have to pick such a cute concept.’ He pouts unconsciously, frowning at the stage instructions in his hand. ‘I’m SO bad at cute concepts!’
‘Awww, no you aren’t! But… is this reminding you of Chamber 5? Another concept out of your comfort zone.’ You smirk as you tease him lightly, giggling at the way his ears go red.
‘PLEASE! Don’t remind me of that torture!!!’ He shudders, trying to shake away the bad memories.
‘Hmm I don’t think cute concepts should be that hard for you, considering you were the cutest in Hey Tayo!’ You continue to tease him, enjoying the way he squirms.
‘Oh my god, come on, let’s just get to practicing, PLEASE!’ He drags you away from the camera, your laughter following his footsteps.
You begin practicing, and slowly you start to slip into the zone. Although it’s a cute and lighthearted concept, you can’t help but treat it with incredible amounts of seriousness, focusing on every bit of advice the choreographer gives you.
Practice seems to go on for hours, but it’s so much more bearable with Sunghoon’s pearly smile and adorable whining.
After about 2 hours, your bones feel like jelly and your face hurts from smiling. Just as you strike the ending pose for the performance, you hear the door open.
You turn around to see Tsuki, smiling ear to ear. She waves at you, patiently waiting for the choreographer to announce your break.
‘Sunghoon, this is your chance!! Go to talk to her!’ You push him lightly and he stumbles, his limbs suddenly burdened with awkwardness as he tentatively approaches Tsuki.
Your legs and hands may hurt from the hours of practice, but nothing hurts more than the tightening of your chest as you see Sunghoon talking to Tsuki, or at least trying to talk to her.
He awkwardly tries to make conversation with her, smiling every so often. You see Tsuki smiling back at him, nodding her head quizzically. Her lips curl into a small smile as he continues to ramble, eyes earnest as she listens to every word he says.
They look good together, complimenting each other in ways you didn’t think could be possible. And Sunghoon looks happy, and you know this is what he wants, she is who he wants. At the end of the day, it’s her, and not you.
You walk away, not ready to face that pain yet. You sit in the furthest corner of the room, waiting for everything to be over.
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synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...
note: this chap was supposed to be released WAY earlier but we ball :P hope you guys enjoy the angst 🥰
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#🎙️:bbh#enhypen#sunghoon#park sunghoon#enhypen imagine#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon fluff#sunghoon fluff#enhypen smau#park sunghoon smau#sunghoon smau#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfic#enhypen fanfiction#sunghoon imagines#enhypen socmed au#enha socmed au#sunghoon fanfic#enhypen fake texts#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen drabbles#sunghoon drabbles#enha smau#sunghoon social media au
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Double-Mutated Mikey
Chapter 11: Anthropophobia
Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club
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Splinter is the first to meet April as she walks in. She's carrying several bags that hang from her wrists and arms. Apparently she went grocery shopping before she got here.
Splinter walks over to her and nods his head in greeting.
"Ah, April. Good to see you again..." he sniffs the air, his demeanour immediately changing from composed host to excited foodie. "Ooooh, is that tiramisu I smell?"
April laughs as she reaches into one of the bags.
"All for you, Splints," she says, handing the box of cake over to Splinter, who grabs it with a huge grin.
"Aha! Come to big papa! Thank you, April, this is very kind of you."
"Anything for you and the guys," she says with a smile. "Speaking of which, how's Mikey doing?"
Splinter pauses.
"...How much have they told you?"
"You know Donnie, he likes to be vague and build up suspense for dramatic effect. But he texted me last night to say how the mission went."
"Did he?"
"Sometime at like, midnight or one AM," she grumbles. "Just to say that the mission was a success and they got Mikey back. I asked how he was, and all he said was that he was alive and conscious. But I haven't known Donnie all these years to not know when he's hiding something. So, how is Mikey, really? Is he okay?"
"It's difficult to say," Splinter mumbles, walking back into the lair with April. "He's... he's awake and can communicate, to some extent. He can walk and even run. But... I'll let you decide when you see him."
April is unsure what he means by that, but lets it slide. She's sure she'll find out in a bit.
The three other Hamato sons come into the room to greet them. Leo is first, rushing in with haste. Raph comes in after him, his pace quick but not as swift as Leon's. Donnie meanders in last, his stride slow and somewhat sluggish. He looks exhausted.
"Hey, family!" she says, leaning in for a hug from Leo, who takes half of the bags from her as Raph takes the rest. "How're you holding up?"
"Well enough," Leo mutters. "All things considered. At least, I haven't had a emotional breakdown yet!"
Raph looks embarrassed. Apparently he can't match that boast.
"Where is the man of the hour?" April asks. "I got some new paint pens for him."
Leo looks uncomfortable.
"Uhh... we left him in Donnie's lab. I think he's still asleep... let's get these groceries into the kitchen for now; we'll tell you about everything."
April nods sadly as she follows the guys.
.
.
.
"Hold him still!"
"Stop struggling!"
"Get me 20 Cc's of the mandrill, the boa, and the -- crap, he's gotten loose again!"
Mikey shrieks as he jumps down from the operating chair and dashes to the exit. A guard blocks his path, a cattle prod in his grip. He flicks the switch on it and a loud grinding sound ignites as blue sparks fly from the end. Mikey makes a quick turn and dodges him, running to a corner of the room and cowering. The doctors surround him angrily.
"Where's that frost gun?"
"Over there by the table!"
"Antagonizing little cretin! You'd think he'd have learned his lesson from the last time!!"
One of the men in white comes back, brandishing a long thin airgun with a blue stripe down the middle. A special weapon made specifically for him, for when he acts out. The doctor points it at Mikey and pulls the trigger. A gust of icy air shoots out directly at Mikey. He screeches in pain as the shock of temperature causes his body to go rigid. He falls to the ground convulsing and shivering, painful stabbing sensations prickle across his entire body. He almost feels like he's dying. He can't move.
The guards grab him roughly. He can't move to fight back. Mikey sobs and screams.
He hurts so much, there are so many hurting places on his body.
Needles that have broken the skin to inject what Mikey can only assume is poison because of how much it hurts.
Bruises from where he has been forced into places with other animals to see how they interact. They are never friendly. Mikey is the only one to ever walk out of the room again. Instinct is efficient and ruthless.
There is no love in this room. Only hate. Only pain.
Mikey is taken back to the chair and strapped down. He howls.
"I'd advise you not to do that again," a doctor says with anger burning in his eyes. "Or else there will be consequences."
Consequences worse than what is happening now? He doubts it.
Syringes prick his arms. Oozes and slimes and ghastly liquids are shoved into his veins and bloodstreams. He can feel it doing painful things to him, he feels his bones shift and crack and grow and shrink. His teeth snap into new formations and his fingers start to elongate, the nails splintering and curving into talons.
Mikey sobs. Why is he here? Why do they hate him? Where are the other ones?? Where is Red, and Blue, and Purple? Where did they go, why have they left him behind? Did they escape this place? This place is all he can remember, apart from them. He only recalls needles and linoleums and cages and cold and pain and tears and hatred and fury and longing and loneliness.
Why did they leave him... didn't they love him, once?
Didn't anybody love him once?
No. No one could ever have loved anything from this place.
No one could have loved whatever it is that Mikey is.
.
.
.
Mikey's eyes snap open, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He doesn't recognize this room. It's another cage? It's a small white tunnel, he's stuck inside, he needs to get out!
Mikey clambers around, whining and crying like a puppy stuck in a kennel. He somehow manages to make a backwards shimmy out of the tunnel.
He is in Purple's lab. He wants to leave, now. Right now.
Purple and Blue and Red aren't in here. Where did they go?
The door is open. Mikey rushes out, calling for them.
He howls, long whining hoots that anyone within the lair could hear. Why don't they respond? Where are they?
They left him again...? They left him. They left.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Mikey starts to whimper.
Should have known they would leave...
No, they wouldn't leave!
Then where are they?
Somewhere... Brothers are somewhere... He'll find them eventually.
No trust. Something bad. Smell something bad.
Mikey smells it, too. Where is the bad smell coming from?
It's not a disgusting scent. In fact, it is, in some ways, very nostalgic. There are traces of coconut oil in it. Sweet scents. But it is a bad smell.
Something dangerous is in the home.
It's coming from the kitchen...
Mikey goes into hunting mode. He digs his talons into the cracks between the bricks in the wall. As he climbs, the pads on his palms shift, tickling sensations that give pins and needles on his hands. Miniscule hairs create Van der Waals forces, causing a suction effect as Mikey starts to scale the wall and crawl to the ceiling.
He sneaks along the top of the hallway, following the bad smell.
Mikey cranes his neck down to peer into the kitchen. Everyone is inside, unloading bags and boxes and containers of food and supplies.
Rat is in the corner of the room, wiping his eyes. He was crying. The human who made breakfast is also in here, quietly rummaging through the pantries and cabinets as he places things away. He looks like he might cry, too. Blue, Red and Purple are holding someone in their arms. She is making a lot of noise, weeping and wailing and sobbing in their embrace. Apparently everyone was crying.
They must love her.
But she smells bad. She has the bad smell. Why trust bad smell?
The bad smell is human.
We don't like humans.
No... we don't... but the male human made the food for us! We trust male human?
NO. No trusting humans! Bad humans! They do terrible things to us. Mikey must not trust humans. Only Instinct. Instinct kept us alive.
Instinct kept Mikey alive...
The male human seems to sense something is watching them, and looks up. He yelps in surprise.
Red, Blue, and Purple turn to look at him, then at what he's pointing at. The girl looks up at Mikey and screams in fright.
He hisses back at her, growling loudly as his tail whips underneath him. The scales and scutes start to lift, the ridges on his shoulders and thighs raising high. His tail becomes a spiky bludgeon.
Let Instinct take over. Instinct will keep us safe.
Mikey can do it. Instinct Might hurt brothers.
Instinct is better. Stronger. Instinct is --
MIKEY CAN DO IT, he snaps back in his mind. His tail cracks like a whip again as he snarls angrily.
The human girl yipes and hides behind Red.
Mikey starts to creep along the ceiling, watching them. Making sure that the evil humans don't do anything to hurt Rat or brothers.
Red follows him around the room, raising his hands and guarding the girl.
"Mikey? Hey Mikey, come on down, bud..."
"How... how is he doing that?" the girl asks.
"Lizards can climb on walls," Blue mutters. "Remember we said he has lizard DNA now?"
"I can't believe... that's really Mikey?" the girl whimpers quietly, grabbing Blue's arm.
"It's him," Blue says. He sounds sad.
"Mikey, come down?" Red begs.
Mikey sneers at the girl.
"What? April? You remember April, right?"
Mikey snaps at her, baring his teeth. The canines are growing longer and longer.
"Mikey, she's your sister," Red enunciates.
Mikey's expression softens. Sister? Like brothers?
"Yeah, mi hermano, she's cool! It's big sis April!" Blue joins in, patting her on the head. "See? She's one of us!"
Mikey croaks at her, cocking his head in confusion.
Don't trust her. Don't trust them. Humans are evil. Humans did this to us. They hurt us, and kept us from brothers, and made us sad and scared. She will hurt you!
Red walks directly underneath Mikey and holds his arms out as far as he can. Mikey lowers himself into his embrace, dangling upside down from the ceiling for a moment before readjusting and wrapping his torso around Red's forearm, his spine twisting with flexibility that surprises his brother.
"Boa constrictor?" he asks, looking at Purple.
"I guess," Purple answers with a tired shrug.
Mikey keeps his eyes on the human girl. She cautiously starts stepping closer, holding a hand out to him.
"Mikey? It's me, April. Please say you remember me...?"
Her voice wavers. She sounds so sad.
Humans can be sad?
Humans only cause sad. How can this human be sad?
Her eyes become glassy and blur over. She sniffles. Her nose is red and her cheeks are rosy. She was crying. She was very sad. Why is she sad now?
Did Mikey make her sad??
Mikey mews at her. He feels bad now. Her fingers touch his beak. He takes in the scent on her hands... lotions, perfume, coco butter from her curls. Mikey doesn't remember her face, or her voice. But he remembers these scents. And they do smell safe. He loves these smells, though he can't remember why. His eyes water, the scents activating some distant and foggy recollection of a warm embrace and a soft hand against his head and the feeling you get when laughing too hard.
She might be human... but he loved her once. He can love her again.
Mikey purrs, closing his eyes and leaning his face into the touch. He hears her stifle a sob, stroking her hand across his forehead and down his cheek. Tears pool in his eyes and seep through. Soon enough, she's wiping the tears away.
The humans were never gentle like this in the other place. They never loved him. But she loves him.
He was loved once. He is loved again.
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#I HOPE I MADE YOU CRY BECAUSE I SURE DID#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tutant meenage neetle teetles#rottmnt mikey#double mutation mikey#double mutated mikey#rottmnt fanfic#rottmnt fanfiction#fanfic update#fanfics#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfic writing#angst#mikey angst#rottmnt angst#writing angst#mikey fanfic#rise mikey#rise michelangelo#rottmnt michelangelo#rottmnt april#rise april#april o'neil#fic#ficlet#short stories#short story
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UNDERSTAND | CHAPTER 17: the dots are connecting...
warnings: nothing! (not even cursing wow go me) ignore timestamps tho lol
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MESSAGE FROM NIC: nic try not to relate league to heeseung in every chapter challenge! hope yall enjoyed, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. i love u all 💞
TAGLIST: @02zhoonie @myjaeyunn @shinrjj @justandloyal2961 @enhaz1 @quemirasboboandapaya @mrchweeee @in-somnias-world @stqrrgirle @heesbaby @dear-hoon @karinasbaby @sunjaywoning @jjhmk @en-happiness @sunsunl0ver @yenqa @fluerz @nicholasluvbot @enhypeniara @mari-oclock @randomperfections05 @astrae4 @cassie6392 @kwiwin @bbangricz @darly6n @kyanmeai @cheybabey @jiawji @luvkpopp @rory-cant-sleep @miujunhui @odisdad @luveuism @manooffline @hyehae @aloverga @stryroses @infpistj @fufubai @chaerybae @minghaosstuff @nyuzip @i-yeseo @vernonburger @haechansbbg @wtfhyuck @jiyeons-closet @catwalkerluv (removed a lot of ppl who couldnt be tagged!)
© fakeuwus 2024 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize
#nic's library ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#fakeuwus#fic: understand#jay smau#jay social media au#park jongseong smau#park jongseong social media au#enhypen smau#enhypen social media au#jay fic#park jongseong fic#enhypen fic#enhypen#lee heeseung#park jongseong#sim jaeyun#park sunghoon#kim sunoo#yang jungwon#nishimura riki#son jiwoo#moon chanelle#choi jihyun#bang jeemin#r u next?
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new grounds
part 0.9. REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING . . . 1.29.2024
PLAYING IN THE CAFE . . . are you bored yet? by the wallows & clairo
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extras <3
yn and keiji made a pact as kids in primary school that if they ever heard any rumors or secrets about the other they had to share it with them (i.e. if anyone had a crush on keiji, y/n had to tell him)
as if they ever don't share gossip with each other about anyone or anything (besides this one occassion </3)
i realized spotify wrapped comes out at the end of november and i am severely off in time but don't think about that this is my au
in the process of making this chapter i accidentally sent bokuto's clown meme to my ex-best friend i'm secretly in love with and have just ruined any chance with her
tsukki is still upset that hinata left him in A&P
kageyama has to pretend and tell himself over and over again that it's okay that keiji and y/n are very close friends and that them saying "i love you" is platonic and that what he feels is not a jealous rage (it is)
again tsukki learned everything--ALL of his relationship advice--from the gossip he's heard from people next to him and the high school girls that accepted him into their classroom posses.
taglist: @ncitygreen @lvrlamp @cherrypieyourface @mimi3lover @lees-chaotic-brain @frootloopscos @0moonii @cr4yolaas @eggyrocks @pinkiscool @httpakkeiji @localgaytrainwreck @lunaviee @kitty-m3ow @lixie-phoria @aliruuiz @corvid007 @iluv-ace @yvjitadori @k8nicole @ryeyeyer @thechaosoflonging @kettlepop @r0seandth0rns (form to be added to taglist! <3)
#kageyama tobio#tobio kageyama#kageyama x reader#kageyama smau#haiykuu smau#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#hq#hq x reader
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Show Me Your Moves! (Chapter 16)
AO3 STORY
Chapter 16 : Shadow Down
A shadowy aura’s energy cuts the opponents defence in half. Can only be used by Shadow-type Pokemon, and has no effect on the type.
Turns out, to your unlucky win, you had indeed broken canon.
You were on the news for days because of your win, from being the underdog newbie to the race, to winning the very first time you participated.
You felt like you were being watched now. That everytime you turn around, someone’s going to be there just staring at you. And while that kind of was the case, you felt like it was more than just the neighbours who would look at you all starry eyed.
Sandy helped you close up shop early so you could get your grocery shopping done before the shops closed, and that’s where it all began.
You felt like someone was just staring into your soul, but every time you turned around, there would be no one staring at you other than some starstruck kid who thought you were so cool during the race.
But you felt like it was actually something much more sinister.
The next day, you voiced your concerns to Sandy, who immediately called up MK to ask him to watch over you and make sure that you were safe.
MK got Mei into it and the two began tailing you wherever you went in hopes of catching this person stalking you in the act, but it’s as if they just disappeared when the two heroes began following you.
A few days passed without your mysterious stalker following you around, so you declared Mei and MK had done a job well done, and it was all finished.
…Right?
Wrong…
The day after, your stalker started back up again, but this time, seemed a lot more present. Instead of them just disappearing as soon as you turn around, you spot a figure wearing all black simply standing there, turned away so you’re unable to get a good look at their features.
You were tempted to get MK and Mei to come around again, but not wanting to bother them again, you decided to stay quiet, which in your humble opinion, probably wasn’t the greatest idea.
And now to today.
It’s been about three days since you had MK and Mei stalking your stalker, and said stalker has begun making advancements.
Even one moment when you turned around and found them waving at you, a sinister smile on their face. You could barely make out peeks of black hair under their hat before they turned a corner to disappear.
All of this certainly made you paranoid, so much so that you ordered out from Pigsy’s much more often than you normally would just so you wouldn’t have to leave your apartment.
Despite trying to hide it, Sandy was a lot more perceptive than you give him credit for, and despite brushing off his worries about you, you’ll just continue to go about your day, attempting to ignore the feeling that you’re still being watched.
It wasn’t until you were forced to go Pigsy’s in person to retrieve your order that this entire situation came to a head.
You bumped into your stalker.
Physically.
“Ah, sorry about that. Wasn’t looking where I was going.” The stalker said, and now that you got a better, close up look, your heart dropped.
Fucking Macaque.
“Heheh, it’s no problem! Don’t worry about it!” You reply nervously before running off in the direction of Pigsy’s, completely ignoring the look that Macaque had given you.
Of course it was Macaque stalking you, of-fucking-course. Who else could it be?
~~~
<PREV ~ NEXT>
#lego#lego monkie kid#lmk mk#lmk sandy#lmk x reader#lego monkie kid x reader#x reader#reader insert#platonic relationships#platonic#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral post#cross posted on ao3#lady bone demon#lmk macaque#six eared macaque#lmk sun wukong#sun wukong#lmk wukong#lmk pigsy#lmk red son#lmk tang#lmk#lmk mei#lmk monkey king#lmk mayor#lmk jin#lmk yin#lmk pif
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Chapter 2, Page 66
prev // next // first
as we all know, stubbornly continuing to do something despite the physical and/or mental toll has never gone wrong for anyone ever
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secure that card! 11. the truth at last
content warning: mentions of sa
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SUMMARY ▸ zhong chenle is the owner of many cards. a black card? he owns that. he even has a stanford student id card. the one card he doesn’t own though? a green card. and if chenle plays his cards right, he just may be able to secure one by wooing you. or it could all fall through… who knows?
AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸crying cause the way i wrote this makes me want to kms it was so abrupt. i was too lazy to change it. for clarification though xiao zhan didn't actually go through with the whole act, yuqi stopped him before he could go that far, and that's what dejun saw. miscommunication at it's finest! yuqi's pfp also died for some reason idk what happened to it 😭(it's fixed next chapter though)
TAG LIST ▸ @marvelahsobx @lyvhie @odxrilove @jkslvsnella @aquaphoenixz @wonnieluv @acidwon @syatchy @sleepyvic @grassbutneo @chcnlcs @taeeflwrr @hibernatinghamster @jaeimjaemin @gukuwii @slayhaechan @yyangj3lly @seunghancore @clean-soap @bath1lda @lostinneocity @defzcl
#i apologize for how dark of a turn it took#lore + plot dump#also end of arc 1 ?????#nct#nct dream#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct fic#chenle#nct 127#nct x reader#nct dream fic#zhong chenle#zhong chenle x reader#chenle x reader#chenle x y/n#nct dream social media au#nct dream smau#nct smau#nct social media au#chenle smau#chenle social media au#nct dream hard hours#nct hard hours#nct dream series#nct dream imagines#chenle hard hours#zhong chenle fic
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—NEON GUTS
S 2 Ep. 10; Date? Date
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CW; short chapter sorry, timestamps don’t matter unless said otherwise
prev ep I masterlist I next ep
Summary; Scaramouche is "forced" to tutor you the "dumbass" of the class
A/n; the message of the fan account was supposed to be lumine 😭
Taglist; @featuredtofu @chemiru @veekoko @kamiboo @mercy-not-merci @sl-vega @shutingstar @simpinggirl @swivy123 @sn1perz
#kunimix#female reader#genshin impact#genshin smau#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#scaramouche smau#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche
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bros before hoes ✰ chapter 10: great chemistry
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synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...
note: WHO?? ME? POSTING CONSISTENTLY? yes :P enjoy this Slight filler chapter hehe
©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost
#🎙️:bbh#enhypen#sunghoon#park sunghoon#enhypen imagine#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon fluff#sunghoon fluff#enhypen smau#park sunghoon smau#sunghoon smau#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfic#enhypen fanfiction#sunghoon imagines#enhypen socmed au#enha socmed au#sunghoon fanfic#enhypen fake texts#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen drabbles#sunghoon drabbles#enha smau#sunghoon social media au
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Double-Mutated Mikey
Chapter 15: Feral FOMO
Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club
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"Llllleeeee--- ohhhh? Llleeeo! LEO!" Mikey shouts, tail flapping wildly and threatening to smack someone upside the head.
"You did it, bud!" Leo squeals, grabbing Mikey and hugging him close. "Ahh, music to my ears! My name has never sounded so good!"
Mikey giggles and sqeaks with joy before pointing to Donnie.
"Ee! Eee!" he says, hoping they get the hint.
"You wanna learn Donnie's name?" Raph asks. Mikey nods.
They spend the next ten minutes working on enunciating the 'D' in 'Donnie'. It's harder than they expected, and Mikey mostly uses the 'T' sound as a cheat. His voice is gravely and scraggly, worn out and scratchy. But it's there. Just a little out of use.
The vocal exercises and enunciation techniques slowly start to get on Mikey's nerves. He's trying, it's just so hard! And to him, he thinks he IS saying properly, it sounds right! But not good enough for the others.
But it's worth all the irritation, because when Mikey finally makes that 'D' sound, the room erupts into cheering. Mikey is elated.
The rest of the afternoon is spent teaching Mikey to speak again. They focus on sounds, pronouncing them as best as possible. Mikey understands the language, he just has to re-train his throat and vocal chords and tongue. But by lunchtime, he can say various basic words and phrases, such as his own name, Leo and Raph and Donnie and Splinter and Casey, food and cold and human, hurt and happy and scared and angry, among others. Simple things to help him express himself in quick moments. He's getting the hang of it pretty well.
Lunchtime is fun, Mikey shows off his new vocabulary to Casey, who he was calling male human until he learned his actual name. Casey looks a little hurt by that admission, but is blown away when Mikey says his actual name to him, not just signing! Splinter actually starts crying when he hears Mikey's voice, withered and hoarse as it is.
After lunch, Donnie insists on doing some work and suggests that Mikey have fun with the others, looking at Leo specifically.
Leo takes the hint and goes to get a bunch of puzzles, books, memory games, etc. Things to help Mikey exercise his brain.
Mikey, Raph, Leo, and Casey try to work out a huge jigsaw together in Mikey's room. Mikey seems to understand it well, his eyes moving fast and brain piecing it together. His problem-solving skills are on point. The only issue he comes across is getting to pick up the pieces. His talon-like fingers are too big and sharp, he ends up tearing the paper designs on top of the puzzle pieces. The others help him as much as they can, and soon enough they're halfway through.
Until Donnie walks into the room with an enormous grin on his face.
"If I might have your attention for a moment, I believe I have created something quite ingenious!" he states with excitement.
Mikey knows this excitement, he recognizes it well. He remembers having this same excitement whenever he finished a really good drawing or came up with some new... what was the word... razzmatazz!
It's why he and Donnie hung out a lot before... they were both imaginative creators, and wanted to share their work with people who they knew would appreciate it.
Mikey jumps from his seat and runs up to Donnie, purring and circling around his feet in anticipation.
"D-Dee! Dee make? Mikey see! Mikey see it!"
Donnie smiles enthusiastically and leads him to a room filled with ramps and skateboards. The rec room. They look around in confusion, wondering what Donnie's come up with this time. Dee halts, turns around dramatically, and points upwards.
Mikey cranes his neck and gasps in pure delight.
From the ceiling is hanging hoops, bars, levers, huge tubes with windows, rope swings, ladders, and even a slide! Donnie made him a jungle gym!
Leo whistles in astonishment.
"Geez, Donnie, when did you have the time to make this?"
"After the conversation about the importance of physical exercise yesterday, I got to work on blueprints and designs. I made most of the materials last night, and finally finished setting it up about half an hour ago. It is ready for use!"
He turns to his mutated brother.
"Would you care to do the honour of breaking it in?"
Mikey shrieks in delight and rushes for the gift his brother made him. He leaps up and grabs onto the rope dangling from the ceiling, scrambling up with light speed and swinging as he does. He jumps from the rope to a tube tunnel, scurrying through it and then leaping to the monkey bars, doing all kinds of gymnast moves and even using his tail as an extra arm before swinging to the slide and whooping on the way down.
"Well, that didn't take long," Leo jokes.
"Do you like it?" Donnie asks with anticipation in his voice.
Mikey squeals and shrieks in delight, rushing to his brother and pouncing on him, twirling around and around in his arms.
"MIKEY LOVE!!! Dee make... make Mikey happy! Mikey LOVE DEE!!"
Donnie grips him tightly, hoping to hide the tears in his eyes as his little brother shouts in his ear. He doesn't care, he doesn't mind. Anything for Angelo.
Mikey lets go of Donnie and dashes back to the upside down jungle gym and plays with it over and over again, looking down at them from the windows in the plastic tunnels and chirping at them, as if asking them to join in the fun.
Leo smiles and ribs his twin.
"Well done there, Don-Tron."
.
.
.
"How's its heart rate?"
"Doing well, Dr. Timothy."
"Good. Dr. Chaplin is coming in for an examination, you know how invested he is in our little pet project..."
Mikey runs as fast as he can on the treadmill. He's not getting tired, but he is getting bored. You can only run in place for so long... Cords and suctions and beeping things are attached to his wrist, chest, neck, and head as he runs and runs and runs. There are numbers on the small digital screen connected to his arm. The numbers are pretty high, at least that's what the doctors say.
"80 mph and going steady, Doctor."
"Wonderful! And how long has he been running for?"
"Almost twenty minutes... we've only just started."
"Good. Keep it up, Abigail."
A door opens and another man in a white lab coat walks in.
"Ah! Dr. Chaplin! Good to see you..."
"Mmm. Dr Timothy, Dr. Finn," the man hums, his gaze fixated on Mikey. "How's our little miracle monster doing?"
"Wonderfully, considering we've completely rewritten his DNA and molecular structure. We're testing endurance now. He's holding up fairly well -- health is good, stamina great... he's lost a lot of weight, though."
"Will this be an issue, Dr. Finn?" Chaplin asks, turning to look at the young woman with a tablet.
"Not to my knowledge. If it goes down any lower though, we may have a problem."
"Hm. Keep me updated on that. We want him healthy and strong. Speaking of which, let's place him in the Interaction room after this, Prof. Honeycutt has been good enough to create a new batch of machines for the training simulator, and I would like to see how this 'Mikey' creature handles them."
Abigail Finn nods and turns her attention back to Mikey. This poor dumb animal has no idea how terrible his day is about to get...
.
.
.
Mikey is dozing off a bit, letting his thoughts seep in like molasses, slow and sticky and enveloping him completely.
He had been enjoying the privacy of the tubes, resting in them for a bit as his mind wandered and he watched Raph and Leo teach male human Casey how to skateboard. They'd been doing that for a while, and it is now early evening, possibly around 5PM or so...
He comes back to reality when the memory of the labs is interrupted by April calling for Leo.
"Leo! Hey, 'Neon Leon'! Where IS everyone?"
"Rec room," Leo shouts back.
Mikey pokes his head out of the aperture and watches as April runs in, sees the jungle gym and stops to point at it, her mouth opening in surprise as she wants to ask a question before shaking her head and staying focused on topic.
"Leo, Cass just texted me -- there's an issue happening at the Chelsea Piers! It looks like that komodo-mutated Kristoff Van Bradford, and all-star player turned billionaire owner-slash-coach-slash-recording artist, Tim Dunkman!"
"Those guys?" Leo asks, riding his board up the skate ramp and landing with a twist. "Wow, whou'da thunk we'd hear from them again!"
"So I guess it's hero time, huh?" Raph calls back, jumping down from the opposite ramp and tossing his skateboard onto a nearby bench. "Alrighty then! Let's get our gear and --"
Raph pauses, and turns to Leo.
"Sorry. Uh, what's the move, leader?"
"April, text Cass to try and hold them off but stay safe," Leo responds after thinking it over. "We'll be there soon, just need to figure out a few details."
"On it!" she calls, grabbing her phone out and typing quickly.
"Okay, next up... someone has to stay and keep Mikey company."
Mikey yells his protests, swiftly clambering down from the jungle gym and expressing his utter disinterest at being left behind. Leo seems to ignore him as Casey walks over.
"I can stay, if you need me to..?" he offers.
"Great. Mikey, is that okay with you? Do you feel comfortable with CJ?"
Mikey utters sounds and scoffs as he tries to think of words that can help.
"Mikey... g-go! Mikey... angry, Mikey go! Mikey... not love alone, Mikey go w-with brothers! Mikey... ssss... ssssstttt... stttrrrong! Mikey strrrong, Mikey not, not..."
"Weak?" Raph offers, trying to help with word association.
Mikey nods at Raph. "Mikey... help! Mikey good help, Mikey not weak!"
"It's not about strength or weakness, bud," Leo says, crouching to lay a hand on Mikey's shoulder. "I just don't want to risk losing you again. And I 100% believe that you could kick their butts no problemo, but you need your rest. The last thing you need is to go on a mission and risk getting hurt while you're still recovering."
"Awwwww!" Mikey whines loudly.
"No buts, mi hermanito," Leo says firmly, standing tall. "You're staying here for now. We'll only be gone for a short while, and then we'll be right back."
Mikey pouts and crosses his arms, hoping this will change their minds. It doesn't, and Leo starts to lead Raph and April out of the room to go and fetch Donnie.
Mikey chirps sadly at them and tries to follow before Casey places a hand on his shell, causing him to pause. Mikey whimpers at him, begging him to stop them, or let him go. But Casey doesn't lift his hand. He strokes his shell softly, but seems kind, sympathetic. Mikey sits.
Mikey gazing sadly as his brothers walk out carrying weapons. Donatello stops to glance back at Mikey, a worried expression on his face. He keeps walking, though. Mikey follows after them quietly, watching as Leo swipes his sword and creates a portal in the air.
Mikey's eyes widen.
When did he learn to do that?!
The three others step through the portal before Leo, who turns back to see Mikey giving him a sad expression.
"We'll be back soon," Leo promises, a soft smile on his face.
Mikey takes in the smells sifting through the portal. Water. Fish. Smoke from cars and boats and machines, something like rubber from balls like the ones he and the other experiments were given to play with...
Leo steps through, and the swirling blue light vanishes. Mikey yipes a quick whinge, then runs to where it was a second ago.
"Don't worry, they're okay, they'll be back!" Casey promises.
Mikey is not happy about this. He wants his brothers back now.
They left you again. I knew they would. Betrayal. Betrayal. Betrayal.
Mikey starts running immediately.
"Wait, Mikey!! Where're you going?!" Casey calls after him.
Mikey isn't sure. He's following his nose for now... He dashes back and forth, looking for the exit...
He finds the garage where the tank is, but doesn't understand how to navigate the tunnels... Casey runs in after him, out of breath.
"Mi-- wheeze, wheeze -- Mike, Mikey! Would you -- gasp, gasp -- would you slow down for just a second?!"
Mikey can't. Mikey has to be fast. Mikey has to be swift. It will be bad otherwise.
The labs taught us that.
Mikey finds a hatch high up in the ceiling. There's a ladder. Mikey runs to it, despite the shouts of disapproval Casey yells. Mikey makes it all the way to the top and inspects the hatch.
Unscrew. Lift. Simple.
It is simple. Mikey twists the manhole cover and pushes it up. He climbs out and looks around.
LOUD. VERY LOUD.
Mikey ignores the blaring sounds of traffic and the overwhelming smell of bad humans. It's everywhere. He crawls out of the manhole and slinks to the shadows, watching. Looking. Smelling.
Saltwater. Fish. Smoke. Rubber. Look for those. SMELL.
Mikey smells. He can very faintly pick up the scent. He hears Casey yelling after him as he climbs the ladder rungs to give chase. Mikey dashes away over the wire fence behind him before the male human can take him back down.
Mikey is swift and unseen. He manages to snake himself about in secret, dodging all eyes as he follows the scent of saltwater and fish to the pier. Once there, he finds the smells of rubber and smoke. He follows it to a section of the pier where several warehouses and complexes are being evacuated as a reptilian man with long blonde hair, and a tall and thin man wearing a mystic amulet around his neck are demolishing the place.
"Dis will teach you imbeciles to underestimate Kristoff Van Bradford!"
"And I will not let my career be a shambles! If I can't have the basketball championship, then NO ONE CAN! Nobody one-ups 'The Dunk'!!"
The two men create chaos and smash the sports equipment as a young woman fights against them, drawing their attention away from the crowds.
"Kaliiii MAAAA!!" she yells, flipping as she dodges their attacks. "Is that the best you can do?! A BABY COULD FIGHT BETTER!"
Mikey ducks in and watches from a corner. This female human smells like the male human he ditched back at the lair. He wonders...
Mikey suddenly hears a familiar sound. A roar that should terrify him, but instead fills his chest with warmth and a joyful feeling of comfort and safety.
Raph lunges forwards, his entire body covered in red light as a ginormous version of himself that covers him up like armour slams his fist into the komodo man. He flies backwards and lands in a basketball store.
"This would be a lot easier if you'd just show us how to do the Seven-Deadly-Vipers move!"
"Kinda in the middle of something, now!" April shouts back.
Mikey sneaks in closer. His brothers are here. Mikey wants his brothers.
But they betrayed you, and left you...
Never.
Leo slides in, his moves quick and calculated. He slashes the air as Raph throws an entire canister of baseballs into the portal he creates. A separate portal activates across the way and slams into the back of the man wearing the amulet. He yells in pain before clutching the amulet tightly, his body contorting in odd ways before transforming into a giant cyclops creature.
"I am SO glad I kept the magic jewel from that archway!" he cackles, grabbing several of the balls and tossing them back at lightning speed.
Leo dodges them, creating a new portal that lands him on top of the cyclops. As the Dunk struggles to reach behind him and grab the turtle, Donnie creates a huge ray gun that sucks up the Hudson River and shoots it at the two villains, soaking them both and slamming them into a wall. Leo creates one last portal behind the Dunk which reopens above a dented basketball hoop. The celebrity flies into the portal and falls into the net, getting stuck upside down in it. The amulet slips off of his neck and clatters to the floor, the one-eyed monster transforming back into a man with a groan.
"Now that's what I call a slam DUNK!" Leo proclaims proudly, doing a quick fistbump.
Meanwhile, Kristoff Van Bradford crashes into a soccer goal and becomes tangled in the net. Raph grabs the two ends of the goal with his hologram form and wraps them around the man, effectively tying him up.
"All wrapped up, eh?" Raph tries.
Leo boos him in jest.
"The jokes are my thing," Leo scorns. "The hero speeches are yours."
Raph rolls his eyes and smiles as he hangs up the green-skinned actor and pet komodo dragon next to Tim Dunkman so they can't escape.
"Is that everything?" Raph asks.
"I think so," Leo sighs, turning to Donnie. "What's the damage?"
"Structurally, not as bad as it could have been. As for the publicity, I think a few people snapped some chats of us," Donnie informs, clicking away on his wrist tech. "But nothing substantial. We're in the clear. The police are on their way now, so we should get going."
Leo nods, ready to lead the way when he stops, his gaze catching Mikey's eyes glittering from the shadows. He peers at him before his eyes widen and his mouth falls open with shocked anger, realizing what the glowing eyes belong to.
"MIKEY?!"
Uh-oh.
The others turn to watch as Leo storms over to where his brother is hiding. Mikey slowly creeps out with soft chirps, hoping it will smooth things over with his infuriated older brother. It doesn't.
"Mikey, what did I tell you?!" he shouts. "I said you needed to stay home! I said we'd be back soon! How in the f--"
"LANGUAGE!" Raph shouts quickly.
"--ffffffffrrick did you get here?!" Leo grumbles.
"Mikey smell brothers, Mikey follows," he explains. "Mikey no like alone. Mikey want brothers."
He looks at the expressions of the people watching his scolding. They don't like that he's here, either.
"Mikey... do bad?" he asks hoarsely, looking up at Leo with sad puppy eyes.
Leo stares back at him, trying to keep from falling for those big eyes again.
Don't fall for it. Don't fall for it...
He lasts five full seconds before closing his eyes and sighing, relaxing his tense shoulders and kneeling down next to his brother.
"Mikey... I just want you to be safe. I can't lose you again."
Lost. Not betrayed. Mikey was lost?
He stores that information away to ask about later...
In the meantime, Leo hoists him up and lets him ride on his back as he takes him home.
"Come on guys, let's get outta here..." he groans.
"I need to stop at the junkyard," Donnie announces. "I need more supplies for some of my tech."
Leo gives a nod and the group hurry away from the pier, avoiding the crowds as they travel to the Repo-Mantis scrapyard.
Mikey clings close to Leo, feeling guilty for making him mad and disobeying him. He whimpers softly, nuzzling closer and resting his cheek against the area between Leo's shoulder and neck. Mikey vibrates his throat, murmuring his self-pity and hoping Leo can tell how sorry he is.
The group arrive at the scrapyard. It's quiet.
"You think he closed for the night?"
"Not like it matters," Donnie says as he slips through the entrance. "I'm not paying for his scrap metal."
The team wander into the area as Donnie flips his goggles and begins scouting for the items he needs. After a few minutes, something in Mikey stirs. He lifts his head high, sniffing the air.
"Mikey? What's up? Something bugging you??" Leo asks, feeling the change in his attitude.
Mikey's tail spikes raise. The scales on his shoulders lift and curl into quills.
Donnie's goggles sight something in the distance as well, and he grips his tech-bō.
"Be on alert, there's something up ahead..."
Mikey starts to growl.
"What--"
The group are suddenly ambushed as a series of pink and purple people start charging them, climbing from the trash and rubble and rusty metal, roaring and snarling. Their bodies are covered in eyes, globs of putrid flesh and veins, claws that protrude at odd angles, spines and extra arms and faces where they shouldn't belong.
"AGH! Krang zombies!" Donnie screams.
Mikey roars back at the creatures and leaps off of Leo's shoulders at them --
Only to be caught midair by Raph, who grips him tightly and pulls him back.
"RUN!" he shouts loudly.
The team runs away from the horde, seeking whatever shelter they can get. Another group of krangified zombies start running from around a mountain of crushed-up cars, herding them towards the very back of the landfill.
"This way!" Donnie yells, leading them to a small building that Repo-Mantis works out of, trying to open the door. "It's locked!"
Raph creates a giant fist and punches the door down, revealing a cowering Repo-Mantis from the inside.
"Ack!! What're you doing here?!" the mutant bug man yells, jumping away from them. "What the heck is that thing with you?! It's not one of them, is it??"
"Donnie, get the door!" Raph bellows, ignoring the frightened villain and carrying Mikey over to another area of the room and setting him down. "Mikey, you stay here!"
Repo-Mantis stares at the double-mutated freak in fear, slowly scooting away.
"How long have they been here?!" April shouts as she helps to board up the windows, while Donnie creates a special ninpo door that bolts into the framework of the building.
"Three days!" Repo-Mantis sobs. "I've run out of onion rings and pork rinds!"
"You've been holed up for three days?!" Leo yells. "How are we supposed to get out of here?!"
"Why not use your portal swords?" April points out.
"Take me with you!" Repo-Mantis weeps, crawling on his hands and knees as he begs the heroes. "Please! I need to use an actual bathroom so badly!"
"Okay, ew."
"We can't just leave these guys here!" Raph rebukes. "We gotta take care of the horde, or else they'll just go after other innocent people!"
"Right, okay, so if I can make a quick portal to the lair -- April, Cass, you go get the formula and --"
The door shakes. The walls pound loudly, drowning out anything Leo says. The ceiling starts to cave in.
"Here they come!!" April screams.
Raphael stretches his arms out and backs everyone away from the door. One last stand...
The door holds. But the walls and windows do not. The monsters crash through, growling and howling as they all burst into the shabby shack.
Mikey unexpectedly scurries underneath Raph's legs and approaches the zombies. He roars at them, his scutes, scales, spines, and quills raised high and sharp, his talons extended and his fangs to their full length as he snaps and snarls at them.
"Mikey!" Raph yells.
Suddenly, he's back in the hall, and Mikey is about to fight an army of mutant, mangled animals, and turn into something terrifying that he should never have been forced to become...
"No! Not again!"
Mikey roars loudly at the krangified, and the horde freezes...
They stop.
They stare blankly at Mikey, who stands in between them and his family. He clicks angrily at them, his tail cracks like a whip. The horde slowly backs away. Mikey moves forwards, pushing the zombies back and out of the broken down hut they were invading. One of the bigger krangified zombies staggers forwards, growling at him, barking in defiance. Mikey roars in response.
Raph, Donnie, Leo, April, and Cassandra stumble outside to watch this strange altercation. Each member of the team dazed and confused as they watch Mikey. Repo-Mantis just runs the heck away while he still can.
The larger zombie rushes Michelangelo, who is more than ready for him. He swipes his tail under his legs, knocking him down instantly. His tail grabs the zombie and whips him around, throwing him into a pile of metal with a loud crash. The creature staggers and whimpers as it embarrassedly limps to the back of the horde...
Mikey howls at them again, and the krangified stand at attention, cowering under his gaze. Mikey's throat makes a deep and guttural clicking, a warning for them to stay in line or else.
"What... what is he doing...?" Leo asks, voice barely a whisper.
"It... it looks like an animalistic intimidation stance," Donnie responds, just as thunderstruck as his twin.
Mikey snarls at the horde, and they cease their offensive stances, slowly sitting or laying down on the ground at Mikey's command.
Mikey sits down as well, his scutes and scales lowering as he calms.
He turns his head, smiling brightly at his brothers. His tail wags with pride at a job well done.
"Mikey do good?"
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#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tutant meenage neetle teetles#rottmnt mikey#double mutated mikey#double mutation mikey#double mutated#double mutation#mutant#mutated#mutation#mutants#krang#krangified#rottmnt fanfiction#rottmnt fan fic#rottmnt fanfic#fanfic update#fanfic rec#fanfics#fanfiction#fanfic#ficlet#short stories#short story#wholesome
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