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sammysmaddy · 6 months

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Ransom (Geralt x Reader)

Summary: King Bryce, the father of Princess Y/N, wants to marry her off to an enemy in an attempt to reconcile the relationship between the two kingdoms. Geralt of Rivia makes his appearance in perfect timing and Y/N promises to pay him handsomely for holding her as 'ransom'.

Pairing(s): Geralt x Princess!Reader, OC!Lyd x Geralt x OC!Rosni (mentioned, but not explicitly)

Warning(s): Angst, mention of blood, alcohol, prostitution, p in v, desperate!geralt, fingering, creampie

A/N: There is a noncon version of this story linked if you would prefer that. This is the first I've written for Geralt. I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it! ;)

W/C: 6k+

Noncon Version

Masterlist

"Hm," The low hum of Geralt's voice filled your ears. While it was one of the few words you have gotten him to say over the course of the past week, if you could even call that a word, you were happy to have your remarks validated nonetheless.

You walked on the snowy dirt road next to Roach, treading a little bit behind as the horse was much faster. Geralt was adverse to you walking at first, but you had managed to convince him that it would warm your freezing bones.

Geralt's eyes traveled back to where you were every few minutes, you assumed to make sure you were still there, yet barely acknowledged any of the words you spoke.

You had learned that this was simply who he was over the past few weeks of traveling with him. And you had also learned to be quiet. This allowed you to enjoy and appreciate the serene atmosphere in silence, which was difficult at first and much different than the lively setting at the castle you call your home.

You missed your kingdom. You missed the warmth and your clothes, the maids and the dances, but most of all, you missed your father. You never wanted to let him down or make him disappointed, because he was the only person who truly understood the pain of missing your mother. On top of all of that, he loved you more than anyone ever could.

You knew your father wouldn't understand your dislike for Prince Loren. He was a handsome young man, yet only you could see his arrogance and lack of concern for anyone but himself. So, Geralt was your only option.

You knew witchers preferred to be paid in gold in return for their bravery, and luckily you had more than enough. You also knew that even though this wasn't necessarily a common task for a witcher, no monster was worth the amount of gold you were willing to pay Geralt for holding you as ransom.

Your father did not know you devised the plan and he had no clue that Geralt played a part in any of it. Both you and Geralt were free of any accountability and you could both walk away happily.

You cut your arm as you went, leaving a trail of blood out of your window which was on the second story. You drafted the letter before you left, listing the price of the ransom. You had claimed to be a very powerful force in Prince Loren's kingdom who would, at any cost, kill you if you had stepped foot into the kingdom.

Listing a bunch of random but reasonable motivations for your own death, you wrote a date to meet two odd months later. Then, you sealed the letter with a stamp you had borrowed from one of Prince Loren's guards.

You knew your father would pay whatever price he could to have you back. And you figured that it would be a good chance to explore the world on your own without the weight of being a princess.

Now, three weeks later, you could feel the lack of food and mead in your stomach. Your clothes seemed to fit looser from the lack of calories and the constant travel, your feet ached and your shoes were almost completely worn. In addition to your troubles, your company was less than pleasant to be around.

Your dream of traveling didn't take long to be unattainable, as you were still a princess and Geralt was very obviously a Witcher. You had stopped a few times, sometimes in the brush of a lush green forest and as the atmosphere got colder, you began to stay at a few inns.

Geralt was antsy at the lack of hunting for monsters, but you did your best to remind him of the handsome pay he'd receive for measuring your safety. He seemed to be annoyed with you most days, but you assumed that was his normal demeanor.

Luckily for you, there were women at nearly every stop, allowing Geralt to blow off steam and for you to have some time to yourself.

The next stop was only a day's travel from the next, and as the sun dimmed you knew you were close to your destination. As the road became wider and easier to travel, you started to smell fires being burnt and saw houses lit with candlelight.

"Where are we?" You asked Geralt, your voice slightly coarse from the cold air and the lack of use.

"Gelibol," He answered curtly, carefully climbing off Roach.

You knew more questions asked would not be answered, so you walked next to Geralt and grew more cheerful as you smelt food. The local inn was not hard to find and your stomach ached as you walked through the doors, leaving Geralt behind as he tied Roach up in a stable.

"What can I get you, princess?" The bartender asked as you sat down. Your cheeks grew red and your heartbeat fastened as you realized you were recognized, but you still attempted to play it off.

"Princess?" You asked coyly, with a small yet nervous smile on your face.

"Just something I like to call pretty ladies who walk into my bar," He said with a thick accent, winking at you as you sighed in relief.

He was handsome, light facial hair, and he didn't smell horrid. If he were dressed properly, he could surely pass as a nobleman.

"I'll take two of whatever ale you've got," You gave him a small smile.

As he walked away, you glanced across the room, tactfully avoiding any eye contact between yourself and anyone looking in your direction. Of course, the inn was full of men and very few women- all of whom nearly had their breasts spilling out of their corsets.

Your ale was brought to you and you placed one at the bar seat next to yours as a way to claim it. You didn't have to turn around to understand the silence that took over the inn, knowing that Geralt had made his entrance- his face sure to scare any living creature.

The sound of his large body slamming down on the stool next to you would have scared you had you not already been used to it. Geralt didn't say a word as he completely downed his ale, signaling to the bartender for another.

"This one yours?" The bartender looked at you, surely asking about Geralt.

"She's with me," Geralt answered gruffly before you could speak.

"I'm traveling with him. Needed a witcher to make sure I don't accidentally kill myself on my journey." You corrected Geralt, giving the bartender a small smile.

"Didn't realize witchers did anything but stink and kill rotting monsters. This one doesn't smell as bad as the others," He placed down the ale in front of Geralt with a small smirk. Geralt chose to sip the ale rather than down it, glaring at the bartender over the rim.

"We'll also need two rooms tonight." You announced. "And a bath drawn."

"I've got one room left and enough hot water for the both of you, but the witcher can make do on the sofa." The bartender answered and you nodded your head lightly. "I've also got a few women working tonight who have their own chambers if the gentleman is willing. We like to make sure our witchers get taken care of so that our creatures do as well. And I attend to the ladies before heading home to my wife." He winked at you.

"Thank you, we'll take the room and the bath," You could tell that Geralt's low gruff was in tune with the idea of women at his disposal, and you chose not to comment at the bartender's last sentence. "And a few more ales."

•••

You didn't mind bathing with Geralt, so long as your backside was turned to him. All of your life you've had time to grow used to being indecent around many people, whether it was alterers or guards- the male gaze never seemed to faze you.

You did however mind when there were two other women accompanying the witcher. You didn't like the fake laughs they gave or when they asked about the scars, you had heard the stories many times before through previous baths with other women.

And somehow after every one of these baths, you felt a lot dirtier than you did before bathing. So, you tried to wash yourself as quickly as possible.

Normally there'd be two rooms for the both of you, but unlike normal, these women had their own chambers for lustful men. You grunted as you climbed out of the bath, annoyed that the business could not have started in one of the women's rooms, and you quickly threw on your robe.

"To bed, I assume?" Geralt asked as you tied your robe, the two women caressing his chest as you glanced over.

"Not quite tired, might head down for another pint," You answered in a shrug, slipping your shoes on.

"Don't," He replied and you rolled your eyes before turning back to him.

"Geralt, have your fun. I'll be in bed before you've even got to the second one," You gave him a small smile and he grunted lowly.

"I don't want you down there without me. It's not safe," He hummed, barely paying attention to the other women.

"Why don't you join us, love? We could use more young, pretty women like you here," The brunette giggled and you scoffed at the idea.

"She may be too elegant to join whores like us," The second woman joined in but giggled afterward as she returned her attention back to Geralt.

"You really think I'd make it?" You asked jokingly, feeling a strange form of pleasure from being doted on.

"I think any man would pay a thousand coin just to watch you undress. Of course, you'd make it, love," The first woman commented.

"I think the women in this town would hate their husbands if she were like us, Rosni. They'd never be home!" The second chimed in and they seemed to be in tune with one another.

"Well, maybe I'll press my luck and begin my new career tonight," You joked and the women shrugged with small smiles on their faces.

"No," Geralt chimed in. "No selling yourself and no men. It's not safe, Y/N."

"I think the 'no men' rule is a little far, don't you think?" You crossed your arms, staring straight back into his glare.

"Come on, we get by just fine don't we, Lyd? I'm sure Y/N would handle herself quite well." Ronsi spoke up and the other woman nodded.

You were more than grateful for the women encouraging you, especially so against the witcher. You loved nothing more than winning an argument.

"Rosni and Lyd are still alive and well, I bet I could do the same," You smiled whilst agreeing.

"I said no," Geralt reiterated, this time much quicker and sharper.

"That's alright, then. I think I'd much rather receive than give. I don't reckon I'd make it in this line of work." It was partially a lie on your behalf.

Men could rarely ever do the trick for you, most often you'd end up finishing yourself, but by the Gods, you were going to choose them rather than having those same men pay to have their way with you.

"Lucky woman. Wish I could say the same, but I have my suspicions the witcher won't be a letdown." Rosni giggled as she turned her attention once again toward Geralt.

"Sometimes, just sometimes, you get a treat like this man and you know you won't go to bed without satisfaction," Lyd doted on Geralt and you internally cringed at the thought of pleasuring a witcher, someone who knows little to nothing about human emotion.

"You ladies sound like you're in for a fun night. My night will be just as fun but will rather consist of another ale and then a long rest," You gave a small smile, preparing for your exit.

"You may have one," Geralt's voice rang around the room. "Then bed. And definitely no fucking innkeeper will attend to you."

"Of course, Witcher," You answered before leaving the room, hearing Geralt's grunt at the nickname.

You knew Geralt would be too busy to even know whether or not you exceeded the limit he had set for you, there was no sense in arguing with him.

•••

You had two ales just to spite Geralt, despite becoming completely exhausted halfway through the first. While the bartender became more and more handsome with every sip and you really did want to continue to spite the witcher, you found that your tiredness would overtake your attraction toward him.

So, you made your way up to the room. The fire was lit and the small snowstorm tapped lightly on the outside of the window, your slight drunkenness made you feel even more at peace. The bed was warm and your belly was full, sleep was imminent and calling your name.

You climbed into the warm and rather large bed, lying right in the center and wrapping all of the blankets around you. You hadn't gone to bed this satisfied in weeks.

It seemed as though you had only dozed off for ten minutes before you heard those familiar boot stomps on the bedroom floor. You didn't think to open your eyes, partially hoping that you were still dreaming, but large hands slid under your body jolting you awake.

Before you could respond, you were lifted up as if you were a feather and pushed towards the right side of the bed. You landed softly and the covers were thrown onto you rather hastily.

The bed dipped as the weight of a witcher began to sit beside you. Watching as Geralt toed off his boots and threw his tunic onto the floor, you felt as though you were wide awake again.

"I thought they had their own chambers," You mumbled in annoyance and he grunted as a response. "Or I hoped that you would take the sofa, but I suppose this is fine."

"Go back to sleep," Geralt climbed under the comforter, staring daggers at the ceiling.

Your first guess as to why he was grumpy was that the women weren't willing to put up with a witcher, possibly leaving him high and dry. You knew just how difficult handling Geralt in any situation could be. You just stared at him, your eyes not wanting to close.

His eyes remained focused upward, and you took the opportunity to examine every one of his features. He was handsome, you weren't sure why any woman would deny him- especially for money.

At first glance, he was rather large and strange-looking, the attraction wasn't immediate. Then, as you traveled with him for the first week, you realized how stunning he was. After that, the attraction faded as you realized how impersonal he was.

You didn't like feeling alone whilst with someone else, and without Geralt's two emotions he displayed, you would have gone insane. Now, he was just a puzzle piece to your next destination.

"I can feel your eyes, princess," Geralt hummed, not breaking his staring contest with the white ceiling.

"Sorry, your hair is just a lot more gray than I originally thought," You poked fun at him, not expecting a response and not gaining one. "But, if it makes you uncomfortable, I too will stare at the wall above."

You turned your body and looked up, watching as nothing seemed to be happening. Like normal, you assumed Geralt was just lost in his thoughts. You stared for a good five minutes, hoping to become sleepy again.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked him, the deliriousness of your exhausted yet energized mind becoming apparent.

"None of your concern," He answered.

"Will you sleep soon?" You asked, looking toward him again.

"Will you?" He retorted, but you answered as if he were asking seriously.

"Probably not. Too many thoughts and too much alcohol inside of me," You answered honestly and he hummed at your answer. "It was a long, but very good day with a happy ending. I'm sorry you can't say the same."

You felt his unease as his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes shutting for a split second. "Happy ending?" Geralt inquired, which was something he never did.

"Yes, I had a good time tonight and now I can't sleep," You answered simply.

"I guess you just don't listen, do you?" He replied with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"What?" You asked, confusion laced in your voice.

"Go to bed, princess," Geralt said bluntly as he turned his body away from you, you swore you could see steam blowing out of his ears.

As you retraced your words, and even your thoughts, you recalled Geralt's clear instructions pertaining to the innkeeper. You quickly figured out that Geralt assumed you had slept with him.

You didn't want to make your ego skyrocket, but you sensed there was a bit of jealousy coming from Geralt. A jealously that spawned from you having a night full of pleasure and him not being able to. He was just jealous that you had ended up having a good night, even if he was mistaken.

"You're jealous of me!" You couldn't help it. You read him like a book for the first time ever and you were proud of yourself.

"Go to sleep," Geralt uttered and you smirked to yourself as you stared at the back of his head.

"I, a princess, but more importantly, a woman, made The White Wolf jealous," You didn't care that his jealousy was based off of something that didn't even happen, you were just excited to produce an emotion from him that wasn't annoyance.

"I'm not fucking jealous," He said in return but his tone said otherwise.

"Yes, you are," You retorted, staring back at the ceiling in accomplishment.

"No, I'm not!" He raised his voice, becoming more apparent in his discontent with you.

It was almost loud enough to scare you. However, you didn't begin to feel scared until Geralt suddenly sat up and turned toward you.

"This is all your fucking fault." Geralt stood up and grabbed his tunic off the floor, putting the cloth on before heading to the sofa.

"What's all my fault?" You asked, less excited than before and more anxious.

"You. Everything you've done tonight. I was so fucking worried about you whoring yourself I couldn't even-" Geralt stopped himself but you could assume that he was referring toward his lower region, making perfect sense as to how he ended back in the room for the night.

"I've not done anything, Geralt," You sat up, pressing your back against the wall as you crossed your arms.

"Did you really get off by letting him have you after drinking more than I asked you to?" Geralt sat on the sofa but continued to face you.

"No, I-" You began but were interrupted.

"Then why disobey my direct orders? Do you know how unsafe it is for you to put yourself in another man's care, let alone his embrace? You're a princess for fuck's sake!" Geralt seemed increasingly angry with you whilst you attempted to explain that nothing happened in the first place.

"I wanted him, but I-" You began again, but were interrupted once more.

"But you, what? How could you possibly justify putting yourself in that much danger?" Geralt stared daggers into your eyes, making you have to swallow that familiar lump in your throat.

"I got too tired, Geralt. I had two ales and then I went to bed. That's the truth." You replied, deciding to be as blunt as possible so as to not further upset your traveling mate. "It would just have been a bit of fun, nothing you're not inclined to."

"I am stronger than you, you couldn't defend yourself against a gnat," Geralt huffed.

"The innkeeper was harmless, do you really think he'd harm me after I came here with a witcher? Especially after he offered you his finest women?" You asked rhetorically and Geralt rolled his eyes.

"That's not the point, Y/N,"

"That's exactly the point, Geralt. You're concerned about my safety and justification over something that didn't even happen, and I'm giving you a reasonable answer." At this point, you knew you were tired.

You knew the argument was pointless. But you wanted to be right so badly.

"You should have just stayed with your whores and let me be."

"And you should have never engaged with those whores in the first place," He looked away from you, his jaw tense.

"Kind of hard when I had to share a bath with them. What does it matter to you anyway?" Your annoyance was growing quickly, the witcher yet to back down from his grumpy state.

"All they fucking did was talk about you. They talked about your breasts as they had their hands on my cock and talked about how much they wanted you to join us, and now I can't come back here because I-" Geralt stopped before his final explanation, each word uttered leaving you shocked.

You hadn't been admired by women like that before. Although Geralt was clearly upset with you, you couldn't help but let a smile creep onto your face.

"Because you what?" You asked, that similar cocky feeling slowly creeping back in. You felt an immense boost after hearing the way the women talked about you.

"Because they laughed at me!" Geralt admitted in a thundering voice, standing up and looming over you. Once again, the happy feelings fled as the scared ones took over. "Fuck." Geralt ran the back of his hand against his forehead, going to sit back down on the sofa.

"Embarrassed are you, Geralt? What could a witcher possibly be embarrassed of?" You asked, a little scared to do so but your curiosity got the best of you. You just had to know.

"Because I finished too quickly and couldn't get it up again at the thought of you with that fucking bartender. I looked a fool!" Geralt admitted in a huff, with something you had definitely not expected.

You'll admit it took a second to kick in as you stared right into Geralt's eyes. He wasn't jealous of you having sex with another man, he was jealous of the man having sex with you.

Not only that but having other women talking about you whilst pleasuring him pushed him over the edge so quickly that it caused embarrassment. You didn't know whether to feel uncomfortable at the thought or incredibly flattered. You had no idea that Geralt thought about you in that way.

You couldn't help the smirk from forming on your face. Your mind raced with all the thoughts of what could possibly come next, and you weren't sure if you were becoming rapidly attracted to him because he was wildly gorgeous, because he seemed to be into you, or because you were deliriously exhausted.

"A good night's rest will cure all of your frustrations," You hummed, deciding to bask in the attention rather than progress it.

"If you weren't here, there'd be no frustration at all," Geralt replied, rolling his eyes at your smug face.

"Luckily for you, another month and I'm off your hands for the rest of eternity," You reassured him.

"Do you understand how you've frustrated me or do you simply not care?" Geralt was still tense, you didn't know exactly how to ease the situation but you felt in no danger. In fact, a small rumble in your core began to flood your senses.

"You are not the first man to come to me with frustrations and you won't be the last," Giving him a small smirk, you slid down into the comforters once again and closed your eyes.

You knew you weren't going to bed, especially not after having a witcher confess his attraction toward you. You were simply teasing the man until he grew the balls to say something of substance.

"You're... you're just going to go to sleep? After all of this?" Geralt asked, you could hear him becoming more desperate by the tone of his voice.

"Yes. That's what you've asked me to do and I'm doing it. I'm obeying, you were displeased when I didn't do so earlier." You answered simply, trying to fight the small smile on your face.

"Y/N," The witcher growled lowly, trying to gain your attention.

"Geralt," You answered in a similar tone to which he grunted at.

"I need your help," Geralt admitted in a low voice, like he was ashamed to say it.

"And why should I help you? I'm already paying you in more gold than you could imagine," You replied.

"Because you and I are traveling together for the next month and we're both bound to need some sort of release," Geralt tried to rationalize.

"Almost a fair argument, but you're going to have to give me an even more legitimate reason," You could have given in much earlier, but you were relishing in the desperation.

"Because I have never fucking wanted anyone more badly than I want you. No one has ever entranced me as you have, not even people I've loved before." Geralt's words tempted you to open your eyes, and you were met with soft yellow ones. It was the softest gaze you've ever seen the witcher give.

You sat there for a second. Narrowing your eyes as you looked at the expression on Geralt's face. With the tiredness and alcohol consumption combined, you found the witcher attractive now more than ever.

"Fair enough, but don't tell me you love me or you'll ruin the mood," You said teasingly, watching as his brows furrowed in anticipation as you stood up.

You only had to untie your robe to be fully naked and as the soft cloth fell to the floor with a swift motion, you watched Geralt's eyes as he seemed to take all of you in. You made your way over to the sofa, taking your seat on Geralt's lap as he slowly began to lose his tenseness.

You didn't say a word at first, only examining Geralt's facial features as your fingers combed their way through his silver hair. He seemed to be content with the silence.

His lips inched closer to yours ever so slightly but before they could touch, you pulled back. You looked down at his tunic-covered chest, deciding to pull the edges over his head until it was on the ground.

You grabbed his wrists, placing his hands on the parts of your hips where you wanted them to be, slowly stroking his arms all the way up until his neck.

"We play by my rules, Witcher," You demanded, cradling his face between your hands.

You weren't sure how he'd act if you took control or if there'd be an issue between your dominances, but as you felt him throb underneath you, you knew he was so desperate for you that he didn't care how it happened.

After a few seconds of letting anticipations rise, you tilted your head to fit with his. Your lips collided at a fast pace, the both of you hungry for one another. His lips were softer than you had imagined, much plumper and luscious as well.

Geralt's hands began to roam up and down, your body covering itself in goosebumps as your nipples became erect. Geralt seemed to sense this immediately, his right hand traveling to play with your breasts one at a time.

You slowly rocked your hips against Geralt's covered crotch, moaning slightly into his mouth each time his member moved underneath you. Your head tilted backward as Geralt pressed your core firmly onto his and you couldn't help but let a louder moan escape, his mouth latching onto one of your nipples as he began to suck.

Your fingers ran through his silver hair, the heat in your core rising due to the friction of your body against his. Geralt's hands grabbed your ass, spreading your middle even deeper onto his own. You were surely wet enough to have left a damp spot on his pants, and the hum of his moans against your breasts was enough to make you tremble.

Tilting his head up with your index finger, you kissed him one last time and his lips chased yours as you climbed off his lap. You laid back, propped up by your elbows on the sofa, suggesting how you wanted Geralt to take you.

Geralt gave you a slightly devious smirk which confused you before he placed his forearm over your abdomen. You writhed a little before realizing it was no use and that you were somewhat trapped, the juices flowing out of you a little faster as tensions continued to build.

Geralt kept his arm over your stomach, looming over you as he began to kiss you feverishly. You desperately awaited for him to unbutton his slacks, but instead, his fingers began to easily slip up and down your completely drenched pussy.

Geralt's thumb somehow knew exactly where your weak spot was as he began to trace circles on it. His index finger found your welcoming hole and began to pump in and out of you at great speed.

Geralt smirked into your kiss as you tried to manage breathing, kissing him, and moaning in pleasure all at once. He knew exactly what effect he was having on you, yet didn't allow your lips to leave him for even a small breath.

"Luckily for you," Geralt eventually let up, adding a second finger before pumping furiously. "I prefer to give."

You couldn't even reply before his lips were back on yours and his thumb began moving faster over your bundle of nerves. You could feel that familiar bubble boiling in your stomach, your climax sure to make you burst.

"Geralt!" You whined into his mouth as your body began to try and retaliate against his touch. His strong arm kept you in place until you felt like you were going to erupt.

"Let it happen, Y/N," And as if it were on queue, the rubber band inside of you finally snapped.

You took a big breath followed by a long gasp mixed with a moan. Your body began to shake as Geralt's fingers continued to assault your body, you felt as though the forearm keeping you in place was going to bruise your abdomen.

"Geralt, please," You tried your best to keep up with his fast-paced lips against yours, pushing your hands against his chest as the continuation of your orgasm began to become too much for your body. Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to remember how to breathe.

"We're playing by your rules, remember? You like to receive and that's exactly what's happening." Geralt's fingers seemed to be entirely unfazed as he continued to hit the sweet spot inside of you. Only when you began to whine a bit did he finally relent. "What do you want, princess?" He asked with a smirk, seeming to be extremely content with your desperation.

"I want you inside of me," You answered, knowing damn well you were no longer in charge of what was happening.

You were still riding the high of your climax, but you knew undressing Geralt would give you the time you needed to recuperate. Propping yourself up, you began to help Geralt with his pants. Your nimble fingers quickly got the buttons undone before his large ones could even begin to struggle with the task.

Although you could see the large imprint behind the cloth, when Geralt's pants began to slide down his legs your eyes went wide. You shouldn't have been surprised that a man like Geralt was specially gifted, but it caused a slight nervousness to race through your mind.

"Think you can take it all, princess?" Geralt cockily glared down at your shocked state.

"Fuck around and find out," You replied to which he jumped at, pumping his cock in his hand a few times before guiding it toward your entrance.

You spread your legs wide enough to accommodate him and moaned in sync with Geralt as he slowly slid into you. Once you felt fuller than imaginable he slid a few inches deeper, pressing the weeping head of his cock against your cervix.

Nervousness and anticipation began to ensue, you had never had a man quite as large as the witcher, but as he began to work himself in and out of you- you felt nothing but pleasure.

"Fuck," One of Geralt's favorite words, began to flee his mouth at a constant pace. He started the pace slow enough for you to get used to his size, but he began to move faster as he moaned louder with immense pleasure.

You gasped as his large hands gripped under your knees and pushed your legs toward the sofa your back was resting on. With the new position, Geralt began to hit places inside of you that you didn't even know existed.

Sweat droplets began to form on Geralt's body, most noticeably on his forehead and chest. His eyes traveled back and forth from watching himself slide into you to your colored orbs. As your eyes met again, he examined you for a second before crashing his lips down onto yours.

"Geralt!" You couldn't help his name from escaping past your lips again.

The intimacy mixed with the body heat mixed with the way his cock began to build yet another climax was almost an overload.

"I've wanted to fuck you like this since the moment I saw you in that fucking castle," Geralt began to sound more primal and his hips began to snap faster, bottoming out with every single thrust.

You moaned your reply, any words would have come out incomprehensible anyway. Geralt's thumb found your sweet spot again as he continue to attack you with his cock and his lips like there was no tomorrow.

"I want you to cum on my cock," Geralt grunted between peppered kisses.

"No promises," You said shakily, clearly lying.

This only motivated him to work harder as his thumb began to move in a way that was sure to have you coming undone in less than a minute.

"Oh, fuck!" You whined, tears forming again, as you felt the rubber band snapping too quickly to begin to even try to hold off your orgasm.

"That's it, princess. Just like that," The praise flooded your ears, officially pushing you over the edge.

"Geralt!" You chanted over and over. Your hands found Geralt's rock-hard biceps, holding onto him to relieve some of the tension as your climax hit you like a tonne of bricks.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so fucking hard." He exclaimed, every vein in his head a little more prominent. If you weren't aware of the context, you'd assume he was in pain.

Geralt's once relentless pace began to get sloppy, yet his thumb continued to work its magic. Your body began to shake and you were quickly becoming overstimulated, but you knew he was near completion.

"Cum inside of me, Geralt," You eased him on and his eyes tightened shut as he thrust a few more times.

With one particularly harsh and deep thrust, the both of you yelled out in pleasure as you felt his hot load spill inside of you. Geralt stilled, still deep in you, and continued to groan out curse words as his climax washed over him.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was as soft as before, and he reached down to give you a small, intense kiss. You could feel his small chuckle against your lips and the smile that spread across his face.

"Maybe I'll keep you around and forget about the ransom."

•••

If you'd like to read the noncon version next, here it is!

#fanfic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt #witcher

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heartsofminds · 9 months

Text

at least i let the light in (i).

"No one was more responsible than Bradley. No one was more reasonable than Bradley. No one was more mature than Bradley. No one else had life figured out the best they could like Bradley had. . . But no one knew how deeply sad Bradley actually was." or Bradley is on a downward spiral and Natasha doesn't know how much more she can take or the unofficial sequel to 'cause no one breaks my heart like you.

A/N: well guys, here we are! months after publishing 'cause no one breaks my heart like you, i decided to write my ass off and truly deep dive to the bottom of bradley's heart the best i knew how. while I'm not an expert and don't know everything, i am super proud of the work I've done and cannot wait to share more of it in the weeks to come. so for now, enjoy this small tidbit of the series and prepare yourselves to ride this rollercoaster with me! also, a special shoutout to jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me ramble about this and reading over the millions of screenshots and drafts I've been hoarding over the past six months! i could not have had the courage to continue to write this or publish it without you!

After - Three Months

Maybe Natasha was mistaken; a phenomenon that did not occur very often.

She’s one of those people who’s a lucky guesser. Precisely the kind of person who could say “fuck it,” roll the dice of whatever was being talked about, and always come out victorious, and if not entirely correct beyond a reasonable doubt, was as damn close to right as anyone else could get.

But she’s not a boaster.

Sometimes being right is embarrassing and she never seemed to like the attention it brought; making people roll their eyes when asked for her opinion or always lucking out in a money pool whenever a bet was placed amongst her friends. She likes being right but she doesn’t necessarily like the reputation being right gives her, so she closes her mouth, nods her head, and tries to put on her best poker face whenever a bad idea is uttered from the mouths of her colleagues.

Watching people blow their own bullshit in their faces is comical and she and Bob get an absolute kick out of it whenever it's on Jake’s dime.

But this time it isn’t Jake or Javy or Maverick or anyone she would giggle and be in stitches over looking silly and distraught.

This time it’s Bradley, and from the iron flavor in her mouth from where she had been biting her lip the entire night, she knows that this is bad.

This is really bad. This is super bad. This is fucking horrible.

In hindsight, Bradley had a little bit of a problem. In hindsight, it was a stupid idea to let him have as much as he did. And in hindsight, it was downright imbecilic to let him get that wasted, play a game of pool with Jake (who loves to engage in smack talk), and not tell Jake about the breakup which resulted in Bradley leaping over the table and trying to beat the absolute shit out of him for making a joke about his girlfriend whom everyone else had yet to establish was now his ex-girlfriend.

Maverick, who watched the entire thing go down from the bar stools, practically begged Penny on his hands and knees not to throw them out and she obliged but only after tasking Mickey and Bob with taking Bradley to the bathroom and letting him calm down in there before he was ready to come back out.

And Nat knew that they all should probably head home and that Penny had every right to kick them out for the evening (and probably should), but she remained quiet while trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. Her careful eyes caught wind of Bradley’s incapacitated disposition as he stood slumped between Mickey and Bob as if he was an anchor ready to sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Their gentle arms held him steady while their faces wore desperation. The chunky wet spot of acid on Bob’s pant leg told Natasha everything she needed to know and from the way Bradley’s head hung, he was down for the count.

If she was being truthful, Bradley had been down for the count for a long time; much longer than anyone had ever really taken notice of, and the seed of anxiousness planted in her torso only bloomed with each assisted step he had taken toward her.

Natasha was mistaken, and letting him tag along tonight was an incredibly bad idea.

“Hi, Nat,” he slurs with reddened cheeks and a boyish grin on his face. Part of him looks like the boy she had gotten to love like a brother all those years ago in flight school; way before the stupid mustache and the muscles and the “slight” drinking problem he’d developed over the past nine weeks.

“Hey, dumbass,” she snides back. She’s so overwhelmed that irritation is the only feeling coursing through her veins.

“We had a bit of an. . .” Mickey looks toward Bob who looks as if he’s about two seconds away from passing out, “incident in the bathroom. He really needs to get home, Nix.”

She sighs deeply; the likeness of a sleepless night and a massive headache in the morning a premonition burning bright behind the heavy blinks of her eyelids. Her hands hold her hips and her shoulders slump. She and Bradley had ridden with Jake to Hard Deck tonight, and she’s sure that the debit card saved to her Uber account would not appreciate a twenty-five dollar fee for an eight-minute straight shot up the road.

But asking Jake for a ride home after he’d been sat icing his left eye with a Heineken bottle isn’t ideal either.

Her eyes dart to the watch on her left arm; an old Cartier with a white face and hands that were always ten minutes off the hour. If she remembers right, multiplying the drive time by two would get her an estimate of the walking time, and if they jay-walk on Jasper and Kinnecky, they could shave off four minutes and be at her front door in about-

“Twelve minutes?” she looks up at the triad of men and flashes a small smile in the process, “Do you think he could make that long of a walk?”

Bradley tries to straighten his legs to stand on his own, but his knees buckle before he can even put his full weight forward. He giggles to himself; the sound childish and carefree. He attempts to lean his head on Bob’s shoulder but slams his forehead down too enthusiastically and knocks heads with the sheepish brunet instead.

“I’m gonna be so honest with you, I don’t think he can tell you what color shirt he has on. It’s a miracle he’s even standing right now.”

Natasha groans and puts her face in her hands.

Fucking hell, Bradley.

“Don’t be mad at me. Please don’t be mad. Don’t be mad,” Bradley speaks up. His voice is whinier than usual and it’s one of the few phrases he’s bothered to utter tonight. His weight still remains supported by his two friends and for a moment, she feels guilty for even being frustrated with him at all.

The warm hazel of his eyes peer into hers and she can almost feel his sadness and solitude. Bradley always liked to operate like he was angry, but anyone who dared to get close enough to him knew that the anger was how he felt about himself; a mirage of explosives made up of pure loneliness and hurt.

“I’m not mad —”

“Oh my fucking, God!” Bob screeches.

A slosh of yellow vomit exits Bradley’s mouth faster than anyone can manage to process. The warmth of his stomach acid mixed with the various types of alcohol he had shoved down his throat throughout the night makes everyone around them wrinkle their nose, and it’s in that moment - the one with Bob dropping Bradley’s arm in shock and Mickey being left to support his weight alone and succumbing to his friend’s heaviness sending them both straight to the floor in the puddle of puke - does Natasha accept the fact that this was a mistake and that Bradley had no business being anywhere but on a bathroom floor with a cup of water next to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mickey groans, his arms pushing himself up. He grimaces as he stands and examines his hands; the chunks of what was in Bradley’s stomach (which isn’t much besides alcohol, he figures) sitting warmly on his palms and making its way between his fingers.

Bradley grunts from the ground and is almost an afterthought due to the catastrophe taking place in front of them. Javy and Jake jump from their spots near the pool table and help him up.

Natasha can feel the headache brewing in her temples. She turns to look around and take count of all the watchful eyes. Even though she’s beyond mad at him right now, she always finds herself looking out for Bradley. After a quick sweep of the bar with her gaze, she figures that he’s not embarrassed himself too badly to never show his face around again.

Her eyes catch Penny’s sympathetic look. She mouths an apology while Penny nods and slowly starts to make her way to the supply closet in the back. On her way out from behind the bar, she pushes Maverick’s head with her hand a little bit harsher than what could be considered playful, and Maverick simply gives a sheepish grin in return.

“M’soooo tired,” Bradley garbles some more. His head hangs as if his neck isn’t attached to him.

“No, no, no, no. You can’t go to sleep right now!” Javy discourages. He pulls Bradley’s arm tighter around his shoulder. The brunet is properly jostled and Jake grumbles beside him.

Jake sends a sharp glare to his best friend at his sudden movement and for a second, he feels a wave of sympathy wash over him. It’s no secret that Bradley and Jake had been each other’s least favorite person for much longer than they had been friendly, but the fact that they can call each other that now - a friend - makes this taste so much sourer in the blond’s mouth now.

“But I’m tired!” Bradley croons. His body starts to go slack again as if his bones were made of rubber.

“But you can’t go to sleep, man!” Javy tries to reason.

“Why not?” Bradley continues to whine. His eyes squeeze shut and he stomps his foot like a toddler.

“Because – fuck, dude – because you just. . . can’t!”

“Why,” his foot resounds on the ground to punctuate his word, “Not!” The force of its landing causes him to stumble back a little despite the hunkering support on both sides of him. The room spins slightly and he chokes back a gag.

“Penny hates sleepers and you’re already skating on thin fuckin’ ice with her,” Javy snaps, “I suggest that if you don’t wanna lose a hangout spot, you try and get it together.”

Bradley attempts to mock him, but the effort it takes to remember what was said proves itself too great. He gives up after his third attempt at unscrambling his words and instead sticks his tongue out.

A frustrated puff of air leaves Jake’s mouth before he turns to Natasha. The face he makes is something Nat likes to call his “bitching face,” which everyone knew he made when he had something to say (which was all the fucking time, so he would often argue that it was just his face). She rolls her eyes to mentally prepare for the bullshit that’s about to come out of Hangman’s mouth.

“So what’s your plan, Phoenix?”

She hadn’t expected for his statement to be so tame, and for the first time tonight, the pressure of having to be right pinched her nerves like a thorn. For once in her life, she doesn’t really have a plan, and the realization startles her.

“Shit. I – I don’t know–” she stammers.

She feels a sharp pain in her thumb and glances down to see the side of her nail torn to shreds and spewing crimson. She curses herself internally. Picking anxiously at her skin was a habit she thought she had kicked after flight school.

Jake’s lips form a straight line of dissatisfaction with her answer. Bradley utters something incomprehensible to the sober ear and Javy shakes his head, pretending to understand what the brunet is saying when he truly has no clue if it was even English.

“I don’t feel good.”

Despite the confession being whispered, the world stops turning as if it were screamed from the rooftops. Bradley’s face pales. Javy can feel his chest squeeze with a sense of dread. Jake’s grip on his friend’s shoulders tightens.

“I need you to tell us what we’re doin’ before he starts blowin’ chunks everywhere!”

Natasha just stands still with a God’s eye view of the scene unfolding in front of her. Had you gone back in time and told her this would be her life three months ago, she’s positive she would’ve laughed in your face.

No one was more responsible than Bradley. No one was more reasonable than Bradley. No one was more mature than Bradley. No one else had life figured out the best they could like Bradley had.

But no one knew how deeply sad Bradley actually was.

And no one knew that this is exactly where that deep sadness would land him.

“What’s the plan, Phoenix?” Jake’s voice booms and bounces around in her ears.

Her hands come up to push the flyaways from her French braid back. Natasha’s face feels hot and the mugginess of the bar feels like a wet paper towel trapping her movements beneath its paper tendrils.

Think. Think. Think. Think!

“You need to make a decision –”

“I don’t fucking know!” she screeches.

Time stands still and everything seems to be moving in slow motion.

Penny whips her head around to see the commotion; her eyes wearing worry. Bob straightens his back due to her sudden change in cadence. Javy shifts uncomfortably on his feet. Mickey and Rueben give each other wide-eyed looks while Jake’s lips mold themselves even further into a straight line.

Even the music playing over the speakers seemed to quiet down.

It all makes her want to cry.

Her breathing is rampant and her heart beats raucously inside her ears. Her pulse is in tune with it and she can feel the blood coursing through every single vein in her body. Her hands shake and her body feels electrified from all the adrenaline.

Making a choice isn’t doable right now. And making the right choice is a task that remains an unsolvable dilemma with a bright red “danger” sign at its conclusion no matter the option.

“Fine,” Jake grumbles. He turns his body slightly to face Javy. “He’s comin’ with me.”

Javy widens his eyes; his thoughts formulating what he wants to say before he can even come up with the words to express it. “He can’t even stand straight. How in the fuck are we gonna get him into that stupid ass lifted truck –”

“Can you just shut the fuck up and help?”

Javy rolls his eyes and lets out a puff of air that he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Jake is lucky that they had been best friends for over a decade and Bradley even luckier that Javy has a soft spot for him.

Natasha’s mouth feels stuffed with cotton and her limbs molded by concrete as the two men breeze past her to lead Bradley out of the front doors of Hard Deck. She could almost convince herself that the entire scene was a dream had it not been for the whiff of cologne and the slight tang of Bradley’s vomit hitting her nostrils as they walked by.

She slaps down a fifty-dollar bill on the bar top near the cash register before jogging into the sandy parking lot with the sky-painted indigo and violet above them.

By some miracle, Bradley is dragged (not without any hiccups or the impending fear that he would start projectile vomiting everywhere) all the way to the floor of the backseat of Jake Seresin’s black Ford F-150.

“Lard ass,” Jake mutters as he slams the door of his truck closed. Javy slides into the backseat with Bradley and another hollow sound of metal shutting can be heard.

Jake rips open the front passenger door for a meek Natasha, whose arms had yet to move from their crossed spot over her chest. Despite the dry summer heat nipping at her body and her damp arms showing evidence of her sweating, she feels cold.

Shocked.

Numb, is the word she’s looking for but can’t seem to find.

Her thumb rubs over her watch band and her purse hangs stagnant near her belly button. She looks as if she had seen a ghost. Her fingernails leave small scratches where blood had been drawn from her nervous picking.

Jake swats at her hand gently; telling her to let go. Telling her that this is okay. That this is under control.

That she needs to let go and let him help.

They stand silent in the hollows of the bar’s parking lot and Natasha can recall very few times where she had felt like this.

There was a weariness that grew in her whenever she told her dying grandmother that she would get to see her walk the stage at her high school graduation. There was a need for protection when she had broken up with her boyfriend before getting her first deployment assignment. There was a loss of hope whenever she looked at Bradley’s pleading eyes in her living room tonight, begging to let him tag along and carve out what he wants to say but can never manage to utter; “I’m lonely and I need help.”

Dread.

Impending doom.

Knowing the outcome despite trying to convince yourself that if you pray hard enough or ask God kind enough or are a good enough person or try your best or whatever the fuck you believe in doing – that this will work out and that you’ll come out on top.

But all that does is set you up for your grandmother to die two nights before high school graduation and for your boyfriend of three years to admit that he was cheating on you for two and a half of those.

All it gets you is a drunken best friend with demons and night terrors that still swallow him whole with fear despite sleeping on her living room couch and being thirty-seven years old.

“You coming?” Jake’s voice cuts through her downward spiral of thoughts.

She gulps down her feelings of decay. She makes a mental note to bring this up to her therapist this week even though she knows she’ll skate around it and they won’t get to unpack it for at least three more sessions.

“Y– yeah. I am,” she wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand, “Thanks.”

Jake gives a sharp nod of his head to her. Despite being a major shit-talker, he doesn’t really have much to say outside of the realm of having a good time or riling up some trouble.

He and Natasha aren’t close by any means of the word, but his appreciation for her had doubled the size since seeing all that she goes through dealing with an obliterated Bradley. Most friends don’t stick around like she does.

He sure as hell wouldn’t.

She throws herself up into his passenger side seat and closes the door before Jake can get to it. He’s already taking her and Bradley home, she figures. He can’t keep doing favors for her.

But then maybe shutting my own door is rude.

And then the thought spirals into why she doesn't think anyone wants to do nice things for her and how she’s undeserving of the good deeds she’s been dealt and then realizes that this thought pattern can wait because there are much bigger problems in her rear view.

Natasha turns her head to peer into the backseat. Bradley lays with his head in Javy’s lap and his legs folded in some miraculous knot. Javy doesn’t seem to mind and sits with his arms spread across the backs of the seats; scrolling away on his phone and checking his March Madness bracket to see exactly how much money he should be collecting at work tomorrow morning.

“How’s he holding up?”

The sound of her own voice surprises her. It comes out soft. Less assured. Less assertive than it usually does. She thinks that she sounds like her mother in a way before she discards the thought. She’s always hated the sound of her mom’s voice and –

Bigger things, Nat. Way bigger things.

Javy lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Pretty shitty,” he looks down from his phone and turns his neck to the side, “Can’t even hold that big ass head up on his own.”

Natasha lets out an airy snort. Her eyes continue to drink in the sight of the two men behind her before her attention snaps to the sound of Jake climbing into the driver’s seat.

He lets out a soft groan before shoving his key into the ignition and the engine roaring to life. His hand finds the button for the stereo and clicks it off before any sound can come from it.

“How you holdin’ up back there, ‘Yote?” he asks, right arm behind the back of the passenger seat as he begins to back out. He whips the gear into drive and guides the wheel with the palm of his left hand.

“Haven’t had to play EMT yet if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jake’s eyes catch Javy’s face in his rearview mirror. The idea of saying something sarcastic crosses his mind, but he doesn’t indulge in it; not now when shit has hit the fan and there’s seemingly no end in sight.

There’s a time and place for his snide comments, he thinks.

See, I’m learning. . . .God, these people have made me soft.

He wrinkles his nose and checks his periphery for Natasha. She sits solemnly at his side like a child who knew they were in for it once they got home. Her hands sit in her lap; fingers busied doing God knows what (probably picking, Jake would guess, but he’s too focused on trying to get everyone home without someone dying to actually look to confirm). Her mouth is set in a deep frown and her face competes with the moon for how pale it is.

Jake had never really looked at Natasha before, but he’s seen her enough in quick glimpses and fond flashbacks to know that she’s never appeared this hollow.

Something is weird.

Something is off.

Something is wrong, and Jake starts to wonder how anyone could have missed it at all.

He opens his mouth to comment on it before he’s interrupted.

“Turn left up here,” she whispers. Jake has to blink a few times to prove to himself that he had actually heard her voice come out like that and hadn’t dreamt it up.

A simple nod and a turn much wider than he would have liked it to send them to the driveway of a charming California bungalow. Natasha’s car sits outside the garage parked next to the God-awful and constantly falling apart Ford Bronco that everyone and their mother knows belongs to Bradley Bradshaw.

Jake fixes his wheels to be parallel to the lip of Natasha’s drive before throwing the vehicle into park and killing the engine. He throws the door open and hops out to help Javy pull Bradley’s deadweight out of the truck to take him inside.

“Up you get, dumb fuck.”

Bradley lets out a soft groan before being fixed across both men’s shoulders. His feet drag on the ground and his eyes remain closed. His brain is absent of any thoughts and the possibility of him remembering a single detail about this tomorrow is slim to none.

Natasha jams her house key into the lock and switches on the hallway light. She doesn’t bother taking off her shoes before she’s turned the corner to her kitchen to fetch some Ibuprofen and a glass of water. Javy and Jake silently struggle behind her, and she tries to ignore their hushed comments of “Oh shit!” after a loud thud fills the house, which she presumes to be them accidentally dropping Bradley on the ground.

Her feet feel like they’re stuck in buckets of cement as she stands before her kitchen sink; idly watching the air pocket bubbles of water fill the glass she holds beneath the faucet. The thought of getting Bradley water from the Brita filter in her refrigerator briefly crosses her mind, but then she remembers that she’s angry with him, and at the very least, he doesn’t deserve filtered water.

It’s a childish attempt at getting even, she knows, but she can’t express her annoyance any other way without feeling as if she was a raging bitch.

Her hand mechanically slaps the lever on the faucet to shut it off and her throat tightens when she hears the sound of her coffee table being scraped across the floor and Bradley mumble a whiny “Ouch!”

Natasha takes a deep breath and attempts to count to ten.

One. Bradley is okay. Two. Bradley is okay. Three. Bradley is okay. Four. Bradley is okay. Five. . . He’s fucking killing himself and you’re not even trying to help. Six. What kind of fucking friend are you? Seven. You should be ashamed of yourself. Eight —

With a wobbling lip and starry eyes, she forces herself out of her kitchen and into her living room where she finds two of her friends huddled around her other one; trying to position him on his side so that he can properly fall asleep.

“You fucking – you fuckin’ dropped me!” Bradley cries, his limbs flailing around like a baby’s.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Don’t cry over spilled milk, Bradshaw,” the lightbulb to say something shitty goes off in his head, “. . . S’not even milk you’re gonna remember spillin’.”

Bradley wordlessly slides himself deeper into the couch and smushes his face up against a throw pillow. Natasha watches from behind and makes a mental note to go ahead and plan on taking that pillow to the cleaners tomorrow.

It would be by God’s grace if she came to the living room in the morning and the cushion was absent of vomit.

“Don’t be a dick, Hangman. He’s already down bad enough as it is,” she speaks, brushing past him to set the water cup down on the coffee table. Her fast hands move the small waste basket hidden by her lamp near Bradley’s head. Her palm lingers on his head; fingertips ghosting the space where his hairline meets the back of his neck.

She sits down on the loveseat adjacent to the couch with a ‘plop.’ All that can be heard is the buzz of the cicadas outside and the anchoring, rumbly snoring exiting Bradley’s mouth. Javy shifts his weight between his two feet. Jake chews on his lip.

No one speaks.

The elephant in the room has gotten harder to ignore.

Natasha senses the ball forming in her throat before she feels it; the scary, dark monster of angst that everyone seems to want to will away. Its claws dig themselves deep into the crevices of her throat and tear every part of her to shreds. The stinging prickling of her eyes becomes harder and harder to blink away. Her nose begins to run; leaking the secret anguish she had been keeping to herself for months. Her limbs feel as if they had been injected with pure lead and she can’t will herself to move.

Because this is it.

This is the end.

This is the official cry for help that she had never wanted to make.

It’s crazy, she thinks, how your body can betray you even harsher than your worst enemy could.

Jake knows she’s crying before Natasha knows she is. Growing up with four sisters gave him a special radar for hidden emotions. The knowledge startles him a bit because never did he ever think that she had it in her to be so. . .broken. His eyes widen when her chest begins to wrack with sobs.

He and Javy share a wide-eyed gaze as if the scene playing in front of them could be any less real. Both men had never been great at comfort because they never had to deal with it, and as she tries to stifle her cries in an attempt to not wake Bradley and to not freak out Javy and Jake, she wonders if the anger she holds in her heart for Bradley makes her a bad person.

It’s insane, she thinks, that in one of her darkest moments, she can’t help but be horrified of being an awful human being.

All she had ever known was sacrifice and she can’t help but want to throw in the towel. To stop fighting so hard. To stop caring so much. To stop loving so deeply.

But she can’t.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

And thus the tears continue to fall while she wipes furiously at her eyes. Through a blurry lens of reality, she looks down and sees marbled red between her fingertips, but says nothing. The metallic stench of her own blood dripping out of her nose isn’t enough to stop her frenzy of thoughts beating her feelings into those of self-doubt. If anything, the blood attracts the emotions of worthlessness like sharks to live bait.

“Shit,” Jake hisses. The sound of his boots tendering his steps toward her makes her cry harder. “Shit, shit, shit. It’s okay. It’s alright.”

His hand moves in slow motion to reach out and touch her, but he snatches it back before it makes contact with her body.

Although he’s good at detecting sob fests, he’s never been good at resolving them.

“Holy shit, that’s so much blood,” Jake whispers louder than he intended. He sits on his knees in front of her and tilts his head to both sides of her face to get a good look at the geyser of blood spewing out of her nose.

Javy sends daggers toward him before making a plan in his head. “You take her to get cleaned up,” he instructs, “I’ll stay with tilt-a-whirl to make sure he actually makes it to the trashcan.”

Jake opens his arms in offense and opens his mouth to make a complaint before Javy stops him, “Blood or puke, dude. Your call.”

The blond’s lips form a straight line before he quickly makes a decision. He ushers Natasha up and gently guides her to the bathroom down the hall. She can barely see with the rate of tears building up in her eyes and though she would rather die than show weakness, the vulnerability sat revealed on the cushions of her loveseat.

There is no tough guy act available for her use anymore.

As she sits on her toilet seat lid with her head tilted forward over a wastebasket, she determines that Jake Seresin isn’t the most atrocious thing she has ever encountered and has a slight appreciation for his detached demeanor.

He doesn’t ask any questions. He doesn’t push her to say anything. He’s more than content with the silence and sits on the ledge of her bathtub with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs.

In any other circumstance, they would be ripping the other a new one; trying to embarrass each other by coming across the other’s faults with a fine toothcomb. In another world, Natasha is somewhere teasing him about being a softy. In another world, Jake is rolling his eyes at whatever she was saying and dismissing it with a nasally, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” In another world, he never sets foot in her house and in another world, she doesn’t fall apart at the seams like this.

But in this world, the one with an entire box of bloody Kleenex filling the waste basket she has her head over, they don’t say anything because they truly don’t need to.

The thing no one tells you about hating someone’s guts is the way that you’re so accidentally in tune with them.

You know how they think. You know what nasty little habits they have. You know exactly what makes them tick.

And you know precisely what faces they make when they want you to spill your guts.

Natasha tries her hardest to ignore his wandering eyes and looks down at the mess beneath her instead. She can feel his stare slicing through her body; layer by layer: skin, fascia, muscles, organs, bones, and all.

“He’s been putting vodka in his coffee every morning.”

Jake quirks his eyebrows together. His stomach drops at the idea of what her admission may reveal.

“I suspected it for a while. He’s never been a Yeti cup kind of guy,” she lets out a sarcastic laugh, “So one day I went over to his desk and took a sip. I figured he wouldn’t mind.”

She shifts uncomfortably and her tears begin to slide down the apples of her cheeks like a waterfall once again.

“You know the shitty part about being right no one ever tells you? That it applies to dumpster fires too. Like, I didn’t wanna be right about my best friend drinking on the job but. . .”

Silence fills the air. Jake’s heart starts to race. This can’t be good, he thinks. This isn’t good, he knows.

“But?” he leads, leaning forward more to make sure that his ears don’t miss a single word that falls out of her mouth.

“Went by his desk every day for a week straight and sniffed his cup. I was right.”

Night and day pass before Jake can let the idea – no. The fact that Bradley had been showing up to work drunk settle in his stomach. It spreads like a thick goo that he can’t swallow down.

“How long?” he asks quietly. Gently, like a parent whispering as they hold their sleeping baby to their chest.

She licks her lips. The wetness of her tears help mend the dryness her mouth had encountered.

“Three months.”

The admission is dropped like a bomb. The effects of both of them knowing changing the intricate thread of life as they know it instantaneously. Jake’s chest starts to heave with a feeling that he doesn’t recognize.

Hurt. Anger. Disgust. Care. Sympathy. Hatred.

All of these things that he has never felt at one time. All of these things that he doesn’t have a name for.

His mouth moves faster than his brain. “You know you have to report him.” He says it with such finality and although he knows it’s the right thing to do, it certainly isn’t the right thing to say.

Natasha narrows her eyes at him. “You think I haven’t thought about it? You think it’s just that easy?” she scoffs, anger making her cheeks crimson red, “Fuck you, Jake!”

He knows that he shouldn’t take any offense to her words, but the weight of the events of tonight has taken a toll on him, and her words plant a seed of irritation in his heart.

“He’s coming to work drunk, Natasha! Screw me for wanting to keep people alive.”

She takes a deep breath. Her knuckles whiten around the rim of the trashcan she’s holding as a means to try and calm herself down.

“Look,” she speaks through gritted teeth, “I know this is horrible –”

“Horrible? Just horrible?” his words sound sharper than he intended them to be, “Horrible is your dog dying or losing a bet or staining your white couch with a fucking nosebleed.”

A sarcastic laugh leaves his mouth as he stands up to leave the bathroom. “He’s gambling with life, and he of all people should fucking know better.”

“Because using the dead mommy and daddy card against him is soooo fucking rich, Jake. What else is new? Huh?” She shoves the wastebasket to the side and stands up to look him in the face.

“You gonna pull the dead grandma card on me? Cheating ex-boyfriend? Oh let me guess. The female pilot who belongs in the kitchen and not the Navy?” With each word, she gets closer and closer to him.

“Don’t let the fact that I have a heart and actually try to do the right thing make you forget that I’ll fuck your life up beyond repair. You’re absolutely the last one to talk about gambling with life when you tried to kill your team and didn’t even feel an ounce of sympathy. Being number one means nothing when you kill all your competition, fuck face.”

The dried blood around her nostrils leaves a scarlet film in its wake. Jake takes a few deep breaths to remind himself to calm down. He knows that she’s right. He knows that he hasn’t quite redeemed himself. He knows that despite everyone having a chummy attitude with him, he is still considered a person who cannot be trusted.

Because he does bail. He does cut people down to make himself feel better. He does eliminate his problems instead of facing them.

“I know that he’s your best friend. I know that he means the world to you, but what he’s doing is dangerous, and you helping him hide it will only bite you in the ass in the long run,” he exhales softly, “You need to tell.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches past him to flip the light off. She stomps past him back into the hallway that leads to her living room.

“You still don’t fucking get it. You’ll never fucking get it!”

Her gaze finds Bradley sleeping softly on the couch and Javy curled up on the loveseat fast asleep before she decides to lower her voice. She turns on her heel to face Jake once again and takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

“You don’t have to get it or understand or even pretend like you give the smallest ounce of a fuck about him, but I do. I care about him so fucking much, Jake. And I know that it’s fucked up and I know that I’m not doing the right thing, but I can’t rat him out because betraying him when he’s like this would hurt him even more than getting in the cockpit wasted.”

“Nat –”

She holds up her hands to his chest and distances herself from him. The tears start to form again and she wonders if she’ll ever stop crying.

“I can’t take this away from him. I can’t take the only thing he has left away from him and you can’t make me. . . . Because this time, he might just hate me enough to dig the hole so deep that he won’t be able to climb back out.”

The collage of versions of Bradley she had gotten to know and love so well over the years of their friendship blind her with sorrow and sadness. She truly knows him in a way that no one else ever will, and while part of her takes pride in that, another part of her wishes there was someone else to help share the load because she’s tired.

She’s so fucking tired and there seems to be no relief in sight.

“And I’d rather him rot away on this couch knowing that someone loves him than get a phone call that he—that he killed himself because I helped everything get taken away from him.”

She zips past him to her linen closet to grab a blanket for Javy. “So yeah. You don’t have to get it but I do, and I’m gonna continue to stick by him regardless because that’s what friends do.”

Jake stands dumbfounded in the dimly illuminated doorway as she carefully unfolds a blanket and gently lays it on Javy. He watches as she turns to Bradley and puts her finger underneath his nose to ensure that he’s alive and breathing. Her eyes refuse to meet him as she walks into her bedroom and shuts the door.

And when she wakes the next morning to find Jake fast asleep in a chair alongside Javy and Bradley, she knows that there was nothing but truth to the words he had uttered to her last night.

When they wake, they separate and leave for work like the events of the evening had never happened.

Like Bradley hadn’t projectile vomited at the bar the previous night or that Javy hadn’t dropped him on his ass in Nat’s living room. Like Natasha hadn’t cried so hard her nose bled and that Jake hadn’t had the chewing out of his life given to him in a bathroom at three in the morning. Like everything is fine when they all know that it’s not – the textbook definition of burying an issue beneath a rug.

Natasha almost tricks herself into pretending like the entire evening had never happened until she spots Bradley’s black Yeti cup on his desk. She stares at it with wonder and hatred and she doesn’t even realize how long she had been standing there until she feels the warm drip of blood seeping from her nose slide down her face and onto her chest.

Natasha Trace was a person who was very rarely mistaken, but now she can say that her mistakes run large when she is.

Because Bradley Bradshaw is fucked, and there is absolutely nothing she can do about it.

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nouearth · 9 months

Text

obsession.

bart allen x male reader headcanon.

wc: 0.6k. genre: angst. warnings: obsessed!reader, stalker!reader, possessive!reader.

a/n: sorry it's so short (and sucky). ;; i've honestly been in a slump and i constantly feel like my writing isn't that good, LOL. it's been hitting hard the past few weeks, but maybe i just need to get some inspiration.

request: anon.

—it was dumb of you to feel this way.

—pathetic, if you were to insult yourself. you already have many times, so once more wouldn’t hurt.

—jealousy was not a vocabulary in your book. in your world, you trusted your partners, as they had trusted you. thankfully, every one of your relationships had ended on mutual terms.

—you were even still friends with a few of them.

—so, the fact that you were possessive over bart sent tremors to the spine of your book.

—it snapped, cracked, and allowed the loose pages to be carried by wind and drafted somewhere into the ocean.

—pages of feelings, deep and dizzying ones that kept you up all night until you had vertigo. and even when you were sick of those feelings, it only made you want him more.

—as if bart allen could pacify the swirls of your mind, or find the missing pages to your book. whether he could or couldn’t, it wouldn’t matter because he would be yours now.

—he’s mine.

—you remembered thinking that to yourself when a girl that you’ve seen before, two times now, batted her pretty eyelashes, licked her pretty lips, bounced her pretty hair at bart.

—it was the same ordeal. rinse and repeat, and it always caught him in a laugh, a gleeful smile.

—you wished it was directed towards you, curated solely for you.

—he’s just being nice. you convinced yourself.

—bart is only for you.

—you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. the only reason you did was because the barista called his name.

—bart. what an interesting name.

—since then, he’s hooked you like bait.

—iced caramel macchiato, you muttered one day.

—it was his usual. an extremely sugary drink, but considering bart always looked like he came in after a run, it was a reward that he treated himself to at least twice a week.

—and twice a week, you’d come. wednesdays and fridays.

—you’ve been wasting more money than ever, sipping on poorly brewed coffee that you could brew better at home.

—but it was worth it. all worth it.

—to see bart.

—always chipper, always tipped, and always…

—always had that girl come in and steal what could’ve been his dedicated attention towards you.

—you balled your hand into a fist, watching from your usual corner.

—he doesn’t fucking know you. can’t you see he’s uncomfortable? leave him alone.

—your breath hiked when her hand gently rested on his shoulder in the brief moment they shared a laugh.

—you wished you and bart could too.

—you swallowed hard on the fifth day, when the girl handed her phone to him.

—you wished you had his number.

—you breathed harder when on the sixth day, he no longer visited the café anymore because he had no reason to anymore.

—you wished you were his reason.

—another week passed, and you would wait every day now.

—anxiously and desperately as you gulped down bart’s favorite drink.

—it was the only way you could remember him.

—be a part of him.

—and the drink had never tasted so bitter until the last week.

—the last day.

—they held hands as they entered the café.

—one honey latte, please.

—all right, and for you, sir?

—uh, can i get one chai tea? that’s your favorite right, babe?

—for the very first time, you didn’t wish for anything.

—instead, you left, threw your drink in the trash, and grumbled.

—for the very first time, you’d take your wishes into your own hands and squeezed them into pulps, into demands.

—you.—will.—be.—mine.

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honeyatsu · 3 months

Text

Loner 4 (Junpei x Reader)

PREV | Masterlist

TW: mention of suicide

a/n:

Hiiii ~ T_T it's been so long since i've written lol! I am sorry if its not good....im kinda rusty! I found this draft after trying to fix my laptop and going thru my things....I figured why not finish it!!! :D I loved working on this fic even tho the only thing done is the outline/draft...i missed writing so im just getting back into a hobby I once loved again ((: I am sooo sorry if my writing style is no longer enjoyable lol but only way to get better after a too long break is to keep writing :D !!!

You decide to take matters into your own hands when Junpei doesn’t return to school the next two weeks – literally.

If the empty desk next to you and continuous lonely lunches weren’t offensive enough, he had the audacity to not even open your texts anymore. Leaving your texts on delivered as opposed to the checked read notification you would often see desperately checking your phone at the end of the day, along with sending your calls straight to voicemail. Sometimes you think you would feel less offended if he just blocked you.

So, you generously speak to your school advisor, showing concern in your friends’ absence and inevitable fate of falling behind – you offer to take his missing work to him and help him catch up, not a complete lie. You weren’t one to be ghosted— ever. A shot to your ego mixed with a concern of your best friend, you decided if he was going to ignore you, you would just go to him. Even if it meant getting his address through the school, no matter how creepy it sounded, whatever context you would put it in.

“Are you taking those to Junpei?” you turn to see your underclassman and teammate, Ino, staring at you with her large doe hazel-eyes, her naturally flushed cheeks spreading from one corner of her face to another.

Cute, Ino was cute. You offer her a simple nod, the white pages your fingers were buried under slightly slipping from your grip, Ino catching it, leaning it towards you again before they could fall. “Do you want me to come and help?” Her tone was sincere and kind, you could say her voice was almost as angelic as her face.

Your stomach churned, body becoming stiff as she stood in front of you, batting her doe-eyes at you with a smile. She annoyed you.

“It’s fine. Gotta go.” You mutter, gripping onto the folders and sheets tightly, speeding your way past her.

It’s lively here, the area you need to walk through in order to get to his home. There are students, chatting, taking up the streets and shops as they lounge around after school. When you walked passed Tatsu Ramen, you tried to not let the bitterness linger around, seeing familiar (yet not so friendly) faces eating there. You flick your tongue against your teeth, wondering if Junpei decided to finally stop ignoring you, where would you two go now. You try to avoid them, quickly shuffling past them, using the stack to cover your face.

The walk wasn’t a short one, nor a long one. It was far enough to make your ankles ache, holding onto the heavy workload – you weren’t sure if you felt bad for the missing work he was going to have to do, or the scolding you were mentally rehearsing to give him.

Either way, it was a headache he deserved, you thought.

The lecture that wasn’t ready was going to have to come sooner rather than later, as you spot him walking toward his home, his clothes baggy and even from the distance you were at, he was more relaxed than you’ve seen him ever be at school. You were at the top of a small street-hill that came before his house, the slope only aiding your speed as you ran towards him, shouting his name, gripping the folder and paperwork that were fighting to slip through your hands.

The closer you get to him, the sloppier your moves are, your nerves reaching all the way to the tip of your toes, the crack on the street not helping as you trip over it. Junpei’s arms reaches out, stopping you from falling into his chest with both hands placed on your shoulder. You stare him in the eye, chest heaving and breath loud and messy, you don’t care that you’re practically blowing your breath into his face. Seeing him felt like seeing a ghost — but seeing his wide eyes turn into a small scowl felt like seeing a ghost who just punched you in the chest.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes squinting as he observed the piles of work placed on your hand. He scoffs at the sight.

“You’re not in the right to ask questions! Do you even know how a phone works?” you huff out, trying to catch your breath and put your adrenaline at ease.

A look of shame left as quickly as it came as he let go of you giving you a slight shove, his lips pouting as he faced the opposite direction of your face, “Don’t tell me you’re here because you’re worried about my coursework.”

“Well, for us to graduate together, you kind of need to pass. I just thought I’d do you a favor.” Your lower your arms to remove the work that was covering half of your face, displaying your frown even though he was refusing to look at you. You take a deep breath as you contemplate your next sentence. “Plus, I was wo –”

“Us? There is no us,” You were interrupted anyways.

Your mouth opens but no words come out, Junpei finally turns to you. Looking into your eyes, challenging you, just daring you to say something next. You feel the heat of embarrassment rise to your cheeks – or maybe it’s anger, you weren’t exactly sure how you felt at the moment. At the sight of someone who was supposed to be your best friend staring at you with such disgust, almost as if he regretted getting to know you at all.

“You’re all the same.” He started out. His eyes never left yours. “Did you know we’ve gone to the same school for years? By chance you finally noticed me, and because you were too afraid to sit in the front. You think that makes us friends?” His dark gaze was going right through you, burning. The tension couldn’t be cut with a knife as he tried reading you, scanning you for any reaction.

You give him one, taking a slight step back, mouth thinned. You’re still holding on to the stack of papers, crumpling them between your fingers. He waits for you to reply, but you don’t.

“That’s not what bothers me. Your friends, they’ve been picking on me for years. How are you just now noticing? What – because you think we’re friends you finally think I’m worthy of being saved?” He gives a dry, coarse laugh. “You’re no different from the rest. You think you are, because you became friends with poor Junpei, right? You finally decide not to turn a blind eye, barley. The same way everyone else pretends to not notice, you did too! You let them get away with it. It’s not just me that gets picked on! And unless they’re your friends, unless they’re worthy of kindness, you just let them! Everyone does! Teachers, other students, you!”

You don’t dare to speak; you simply shove the assignments to his arms. You don’t look up, you don’t want him to see your lips quiver at his words – you don’t want him to see you fighting to keep your eyes dry, fighting to tune him out. Your attempts fail you, feeling your own wet lashes against your cheek, a single, suppressed tear managing to escape.

“I never needed you. I never needed your pity, I never needed you to save me!”

Of course, he’s mad at you. You don’t know what you did, but you figure that you abandoning him when there was something clearly wrong the other day had something to do with it. You knew something was wrong, yet you still left. And you feel guilty, so guilty for being such a bad friend, just like he says. You feel guilty, thinking that you could just march to him when you’re the one who is in the wrong. You weren’t a good friend, and Junpei knew his worth. You were convinced you were in the right, that it was okay for you to be mad at your friend for abandoning you, but you abandoned him first. You’re ready to turn your heel, turn back and leave him alone for good, and you almost do.

Almost.

“What’s going on here?” A strong voice asked from behind you. You turned your head to be met with a tall slender woman, short black hair, and holding a cigarette in her left hand.

His tone changes, along with his facial expression. His eyebrow twitches when he realizes who has arrived (at the worst possible time, for him); It did not take you necessarily long to realize who she was, her and Junpei practically sharing the same face. If you weren’t so hurt and angry, you could imagine how humiliated you would feel. Weeks of begging Junpei to let you come over, introduce you to his family — and here you are, face to face with the woman who brought your favorite person into this world (even if he was being an ass right now); snotty nosed, eyes glossy, and an ugly tight facial expression because no, you didn’t want him to see you cry.

“She’s bringing my missing work, just a classmate–”

You cut him off, introducing yourself by giving your name, “I’m his best friend.” you snuck in, bowing to his mother while grabbing a work folder, pointing to it. “I brought his classwork. And being honest, I was concerned. I wanted to see for myself that he was okay.” Considering the fact that he seemed to forget how to use his phone and turned into an asshole, you thought to yourself, but you knew to leave that thought to yourself, not wanting to push any of his mother’s buttons, determined to make a good first impression.

“The ramen girl?”

Your eyebrow twitches, turning to Junpei. It almost shocks you, how after his speech of how cruel he tried to make you out to be, this is what offends you. “Your mother knows me as…. the ramen girl?” Junpei stares at you in disinterest and shrugs.

“It’s not often I get to meet a friend, let alone a best friend.” She grins in amusement, “Do you wanna come in and help him catch up with work?”

“Mom, not necessary.” Junpei mutters quietly.

“It wouldn’t be a problem at all!” You chirped in response, grinning from ear to ear as you follow them into their home, ignoring Junpei’s face twisted in irritation.

Their home is welcoming, fit for a small family of two. His mother (you find out her name is Nagi), goes straight to her fridge, taking out a bottle of beer while settling on her counter.

“I appreciate you doing this for him. I understand school isn’t for everyone and honestly, it isn’t as big as you kids make it seem. “ She takes a sip of her beer before continuing, “but I would be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate this. Or you. I’m just glad I finally got to meet the girl who’s worked wonders you’re not even aware of.”

The praise makes you flush — your body heating up. You swiftly look towards Junpei’s direction, seeing his face tinted red, from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. He was avoiding his mothers gaze along with yours, looking to the side and pouting, arms crossed. He looked like an angry toddler, and you would laugh, normally — if you didn’t feel he hated you at this moment.

“ — Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you guys waiting?” His mother replies with a grin, “You’re free to go on, help your best friend catch up on his work!” She takes both of you, leading your way to his bedroom with her palm on both backs, lightly shoving you through the door.

Junpei is standing beside you, sheepishly, his guilt showering his face as he sees you softly close the door behind you and fist your palms as a way to calm yourself down. You’re nervous, and you can tell he is too, the blush never leaving his face. And as awkward and unpredictable this current situation is (meeting his mom in the middle of a fight and having her throw you into his bedroom, awkward is an understatement), you still know there are things you need to talk about. You slowly take a few steps towards him, each step causing you to take a deep breath before you trap him in a tight hug.

“I should’ve been a better friend.” You mutter into his chest. Still holding onto him, you look up at him and nearly laugh at his surprised expression. “Please don’t think you don’t matter to me. Or that I feel bad for you. I mean – ouch – because of how you judge my character. You are my friend. I care about you, a lot. And I’m sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

The gold locket you usually kept hidden in your shirt was brought out, it felt so delicate in between your fingers, but the feelings and memories with what was inside laid heavy in your heart. You took one last, slow, deep breath before you opened the heart-chapped locket, revealing the photo of your deceased father. “He was bullied at work. My dad. They treated him horribly, told him he wasn’t worthy of being man of the house, or something like that.”

Don’t cry, You try to tell yourself, don’t cry.

“Well, one day it all got to him. And he decided it was easier to leave me and my mom, than to ‘burden us with his pathetic excuse of a husband and father’. At least that’s what he said in the letter. If he asked me, I would’ve said he was great.”

You sigh, closing up the locket and placing it back into your shirt, “I should’ve paid more attention, you’re right. No one wants to believe people are bad, or people with hearts can be capable of being so cruel. I always thought people were just people when my dad died. When I read his note, it was so sad. Life seemed so dimmed in his perspective. I guess I didn’t want to experience my life like that, I became ignorant to those around me, especially my shitty friends. I was around bullies and was too dumb to even see it.”

Your arms quickly found their way around his waist, bringing your head to his chest and looking up at him, the small tears that still haven’t fallen glistening in between your eyelashes. “What I’m trying to say with all of this is, I’m sorry. I understand what they do is fucked up, and I’m sorry for just staying silent. My ignorance isn’t an excuse, it was never okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you. And I’m not enabling those friendships any longer. You’re my friend Junpei, I care about you.”

Junpei wraps his arms around you, pressing his body tightly against yours. He would’ve never guessed you felt as bad as you did — he would have never imagined you having to go through something so tragic, yet remained so strong, so willing, so vulnerable to the world around you.

It’s silent, the forgiveness that’s communicated between the two of you. After the embrace you look up at him, your eyes still glistening but your smile turns into a small curve, your teeth slightly showing before you start giggling, hitting his chest. He follows you after — laughing at how vulnerable and serious you two were with one another, and he’s happy, because this is new. He hasn’t experienced a true friendship, a falling out, or making up after, being vulnerable.

The next few hours are peaceful as you two sit sprawled out on his bed with the textbooks and folders with weeks worth of school work. You promised to help catch him up as long as he promised to stop skipping class and ignoring you, especially during times he needs people most.

Junpei spends five minutes staring at a problem, not quite understanding what he was supposed to do. He calls your name for help, but you don’t respond. “I really need help right now,” he states, bringing his attention to you, lifting his eyes to meet yours; His eyes softened at the view in front of him, the world around you became a blur — you being the focus point, the soft beating his heart slowly becoming rapid, his body becoming flushed seeing you laid across his bed, your mouth agape and slight drool dripping from the side. He stares and thinks to himself, he’s always thought you were pretty, but this would have to be the prettiest he’s seen you.

He slowly lifts himself off the bed, tip-toeing around to make sure he doesn’t make the slightest noise while going to your side, being sure to not wake you from your sleep.

Junpei takes your leg that was hanging from the edge and takes the piles of work spread across his bed and neatly places them onto his desk, sitting beside your sleeping figure and taking his blanket, covering your body. He then lays beside you, on top of the covers so there is a barrier between the two of you. His eyes trace the shape of your body, looking at the little details and appreciating every blemish, every texture, every line on your face. Without even realizing he brought his face closer to yours, in awe at how at peace you look laying beside him after all he’s put you through.

He takes a moment, taking in a deep breath as he decides to swallow his pride, whispering an apology.

And to his surprise, he hears you accept his apology faintly, right before your quiet snores echo around the room. He smiles at the sight, laying down besides you

As you two fell asleep with one beside one another, close but not close enough, his mother barged in, holding a tray of tea, about to offer some until she noticed the sight before her.

She then smiled to herself, wanting to wake you guys up, or just take a picture to tease you two with it later. She decides to let you two have this moment, because something tells her there would be more to come.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

When winter comes, it comes quietly — the snow falling sneaking up on the world, the same way your feelings for Junpei seemed to. You don’t exactly remember when his presence alone would have your heart beating out of your chest, you don’t remember when you would feel heat rise in your face when he would give you a simple compliment, but it made you uneasy — and confused. Because he was your friend, later on you realized that these physical setbacks weren’t supposed to happen around your friend.

Your friendship with Junpei slowly got better, it was like starting from square one, but he got comfortable fast — you’d say things were getting to how they once were, but you’d argue that they were better. Junpei smiled more, he laughed more, he even got bold and would initiate physical contact with you. It should make you happy, that he has become more open, more willing to shed his light not only to you, but others as well. He developed a better friendship with his club members, he even started to acknowledge people that even shocked you, and it should make you happy.

It should.

One moment you’re urging Junpei to smile more. He’s president of a club filled with classmates with the same interests as him, you jokingly tell him if he can handle being your friend he should have no problem making more. One moment you’re skipping down the halls, holding a bag with a surprise for him – a gift, there was no special event coming up, but you saw the item and thought of him. One moment you’re excited to start off his day with one of his warm laughs, and wide smile you’ve come to adore – and now, you’re trying to be still as your legs wobble, witnessing something that makes your stomach turn in discomfort.

Junpei is laughing – an honest, joyful, (almost too joyful) laugh. The gift bag almost drops to the ground, but you gripped it tightly as it nearly slipped out of your palms, your jaw suddenly tensed up, and you feel like even blinking would be impossible. His eyes are practically glistening as he looks down at the pink hair, doe-eyed girl you knew all too well. She looks up at him, reaching towards his upper left arm, grabbing it after giggling something you couldn’t make out to him. Junpei doesn’t flinch, in fact, he doesn’t react at all. He accepts her physical touch as if it was the most natural thing to him, and something in you bursts. It was as if a fire was casted in your chest, as if the devil himself pushed you far enough to run into Junpei’s back, nearly pushing him further into Ino if you weren’t able to catch the back of his school shirt before he got a chance to fall.

Before you realize what you’ve done, you feel Ino’s large eyes on you, a curious look on her face quickly switching to her sweet smile that has the rest of the school on the palm of her hands, and Junpei looking back at you curiously. You remove your hand from his shirt, slowly bringing it to your side, you lower your gaze to the floor, gripping your gift, wishing to any god out there to have you disappear from the scene itself.

“We have things to go over, Junpei.” You try to state as calmly as possible, but it comes out bitter, a shaky voice followed by a nervous hand reaching for his wrist, not waiting for a response before you attempt to drag him to the opposite direction of Ino.

You peak over his shoulder when he doesn’t move, seeing Ino hold onto his other wrist, keeping him in place. You try to imagine how this looks to the classmates around you, Junpei in between of two classmates, both pulling him into the opposite direction. You try to imagine the amount of self control it would take to not grab one of the most popular first years by the head and drag her down the hall without it becoming a big scandal.

Your breath hitches as Ino looks you in the eye, her smile never faulting. You watch her with a blank stare, your eyes staring at her hand gripping his wrist until she drops it. When you look up she looks back at you innoccently, as if she didn’t just send you into an internal war with her. “I asked Junpei to the Lantern festival.” Ino announces, clear and to the point, her eyes staring directly into yours.

“Just…just the two of you?” You blink back, letting go of the grip you have on him. Your gaze switched from staring directly at her to Junpei, “Did you say yes?”

“No!” Ino laughs out, and it pains you to admit how melodic it was, how you get why Junpei is so comfortable with someone he barely knows. “Chifuyu and Hori are coming. I didn’t want to be the only girl, so I asked Junpei to come along with you. You know them right? They’re in your art classes.”

“I’d like to go.” Junpei states softly. You try not to glare at him, huffing to yourself as you mutter back “whatever.” You pull Junpei rougher, which leads Ino to let go as you drag him into the empty art club room.

The room is silent for the first few minutes. The sound of you ruffling through your bag to get things out and place them onto the desk is the only thing that echoes through the room. The two of you avoid eyecontact with one another – Junpei looking at anywhere but you while playing with his hands, you take out pictures you’ve printed, sprawling them across the desk, neatly lining them up to one another.

A majority of them were selfies of the two of you. If the air around the two of you wasn’t as heavy due to the last encounter, you probably would’ve smiled – chuckled, even. These photos were the visual documenting of the friendship the two of you shared, a visual timeline of seeing his comfortablility with you. From looking awkwardly at the camera (you were lucky if you even got a smile), to some blurry pictures of him shying away, they blossomed into him

“You know,” you started off, pretending to look into the pictures as if you were inspecting them, “When I said you should show the more open side of you more often….I didn’t think you’d do it so easily. Especially with other girls.” You try to sound nonchalant. You try to make it sound like a friend teasing another one.

“I – I just,”

“It’s not a problem. It’s just crazy. Lookin’ at these pictures, y’know? How long it took you to get comfortable with me but you talk to Ino as if you’ve known her for years.” You don’t know what you’re implying or why you’re implying anything at all – Junpei is just your friend and it’s not not fair to act like you own him, that you’re the only girl in the world he should be laughing with.

It shouldn’t bother you that he’s getting more social thanks to his friendship with you. This should be a happy moment. But you can’t help the way the memory of him laughing so easily with her causes your skin to burn, or the heavy fall you felt in your chest when you saw Ino’s hand touch him. The red flush that spread around his face didn’t make it better either.

“I feel like I should say sorry.” Junpei admits, “But I don’t know why I’m apologizing.”

“You don’t need to.” You mumble to yourself, still refusing to look up at him. You sigh as you’re shuffling through the pictures, none of them working for you. The selfies themselves were nice, two friends just savoring memories with one another. Staring at them all heeds the realization that these pictures were nothing but mere proof of your friendship with one another, the word friends sitting grudgingly in your mind. “None of these are good enough.”

You feel Junpei tower over you, his eyes similarly scanning the photos you’ve laid out. He brings his arm out, it hovers over you, lighty grazing your shoulder as he grabs a photo that’s caught his eye. Your breath hitches when his chest presses up against your back due to the movement – your body freezing, this physical contact alone having your breath to become uneasy, using every ounce of your strength to not lose the balance onto your legs. Hesitantly, you turn your head to look up at him, his dark eyes glistening, staring at what he’s just picked up with nothing less than stars in his eyes. He brings the picture closer to him, unintentionally wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

Your eyes shift towards the picture he’s holding. It's one of the first ones where he actually felt comfortable enough to look into the camera and smile, his arm wrapped around yours and a peace sign being held up to the side of your face. Your gaze landing on him once again, you tell yourself not to overthink the small grin spread on his face, the red tint that’s just barely making itself visible to you. If you weren’t in such close proximity to him, truthfully, you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Can I keep this one?” Junpei barely whispers to you. He looks down at you for approval, eyes widening at how close your face has gotten to his. He looks down, noticing it was him who has pressed himself to you, and quickly looks back up into your eyes – face growing redder the more you two look into each other's eyes. You imagine the two of you share the same expression, a mix of being flustered and afraid. His arm wrapped around you stays frozen, afriad that moving would bring you closer or bring your bodies farther from one another. Junpei was unsure which one made him the most uneasy between the two.

Neither of you are sure who brought their face closer to the other, his nose touching yours being the only indication that the two of you were even moving. The quiet room wasn’t silent enough, the beating in your chest too loud for your comfort, convinced that Junpei could hear the way he was making your heart jump. Attempting to break the ice, you open your mouth, closing it just as quickly when you see Junpei scanning your face, his eyes landing on your lips. He tenses up, watching the way it closes and seeing your lips subtly pout.

Seeing Junpei watch you with so much want, feeling his chest rise and fall unevenly on your back, this whole situation became overwhelming for you. Here you stand, a few moments ago trying to rid yourself of the jealousy that was clouding your mind, to now find yourself trapped against him. As close as you two are, it still doesn’t feel close enough. You slightly look away, overwhelmed. Noticing in the corner of your eye the gold sparkly bag making itself noticeable to you on the tabl besides the one with all the pictures.

Whether you were even looking for an escape from the situation or not, you took it, quickly removing yourself from Junpei’s hold. Your cheeks heat up as you shuffle yourself away from him, quickly turning and grabbing the gift back. A deep breath escapes your lips as you turn to him, ignoring the look of rejection spread across his face. You chuckle awkwardly, lifting your arms straight and pushing the bag into his chest.

“I got you something.” You announce too quickly, the sentence almost sounding like one word mushed together. Junpei blinks as he stares at the bag, hesitantly grabbing it and removing it from your hold. Whatever confusing feeling he had left for the time being as he opens it, pulling out the movie Killer Klowns From Outter Space disk.

“I thought you hated this movie.”

“I do. That’s why I’m giving it to you. You can keep it, you said it was hard to find a copy. My mom was gonna toss it anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It was my dads. I would rather give it to someone who matters to me just as much than just throw it out.”

Junpei smiles, a soft “Thank you” leaving his lips while he pulls you in for a hug. You can’t move for a moment – nor speak. Just leaving one awkward situation where your bodies were almost too close for comfort right into another one. You slowly wrap both your arms around him, feeling his grip on you tighten.

While it no longer feels awkward, to deny you felt anything other than your stomach doing flips and feeling so at ease in his grip all at once would be a lie.

taglist:

pls let me know thru my ASK box if you want to be added/removed! It is easier for me to check and add that way, thank you ^_^

@wuvnoya

@loveinumaki

@i2kusou

@snackgod

@kasevna

@sillygoof

@chosos-sweetheart

@big-mood-bisexual

@hollingsworthray21425

@doughnuts-eater

@Keisukebajimipatron

@Broshot

@V08909v

@Riahs-world96

@pelicanpizza

@Coconut-socks

@thegirlwhoharnessedthelight

#jjk #junpei jujutsu kaisen #yoshino junpei x reader #yoshino junpei #junpei x reader #junpei yoshino #junpei x you #junpei x y/n

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eponymous-rose · 3 months

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OKAY, I have a lot going on over the next few weeks, and I desperately need to get my thoughts in order, so allow me to yell into the void about the research proposals I absolutely need to be working on over the next week:

Resubmission of a $600k grant proposal written with my colleague. This one technically doesn't have a deadline, but if we get it in quickly enough, we can fund an incoming grad student on it! The project is quite well-defined and we had a sit-down with the program manager, who both encouraged resubmission and went line-by-line through the last set of reviews to tell us which to follow and which to ignore. I've got a to-do list of changes, and thankfully no logistical stuff to worry about since we're submitting to the same call. I would estimate only about 5 hours needed to get this one ready to go for the first round of comments from my colleague/co-PI, and it'll just be going through the first version line-by-line with my notes and the reviews in front of me, changing as I go. My goal by Friday of next week: complete draft to send to my co-PI.

Resubmission of a $700k grant proposal written with a friend at a different university. This one's a bit trickier, since it was rejected by one federal agency and we want to submit it to a completely different one, so it'll require a complete rewrite and a fair amount of logistical juggling. We have the revised budget ready to go, and my co-PI met with the program manager and got the good dirt on what they're looking for. So content is yes, but focus and logistics (page length, format, etc.) are way up in the air. I would guess about 15 hours to get a complete draft done, and ideally we want the whole thing done by the end of the month. I'll have to sit down with the old proposal, notes from my co-PI's meeting, and the new proposal call in front of me and do a fresh document. My goal by Friday of next week: At least one of the three main sections complete to send to my co-PI.

Brand-new $800k grant proposal written with a computer scientist at my university. We met at a talk I gave last quarter and just got along really well and figured we should work together, and then this call came out looking to fund work bridging the gap between EXACTLY our two disciplines, so we couldn't resist. We have a budget and a very, very loose idea of what we want to study, but the details are vague and we also need to have this in by approximately the end of the month. We've loosely structured it so that its three sections are my specialty, his specialty, and then a combo of the two, so my role initially here is going to be creating a framing narrative into which we can each independently drop our sections of the work. I'm guessing my total contribution will be around 20 hours on this one. My goal by Friday of next week: A detailed summary with point-form bullets in every single subsection.

Brand-new $???? grant written with a friend at a different university. We literally just saw this call two days ago and went "YES", so now it's a matter of figuring out if we can actually get things done. This is a totally new area for both of us (wildfire science!) but it would involve the experimental radars that he builds and the fluid dynamics expertise I have. This was kind of me going "yes, let's do it!" so I feel some responsibility here to come up with some big ideas. I need to clarify, but I think we need to have this done by the first week of March or so, and we need to talk to the program manager to see if they're interested. We can talk budget at our meeting next week (or via e-mail), so I think initially here I just need to put some ideas on paper, similar to #3 above. No idea how much time to expect to put into this one. My goal by Friday of next week: A detailed summary with point-form bullets in every single subsection.

Grant co-written with a postdoc from Zurich who wants to come work with me! She's applying for two years of funding, but the deadline isn't until August so honestly I just need to brainstorm a small idea or two that I can contribute to the conversation.

Phew. Okay. Let's get started on some of this.

#eponymous academia tag #pomodoro my beloved don't fail me now

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never-gonna-danse-again · 2 days

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Scout Operation Beta

uhmmm massive text incoming sorry

I've had a few ideas about the scouting op gone wrong with Cutler, so I took it upon myself to draft a rough plan of it. just a warning this took a much darker turn than I thought it would, so please don't read if you don't want to/ wouldn't feel comfortable

but honestly now I want to write a whole fic about this >:) if my boy Knight Cutler doesn't have any official lore or solid story to go off, we will give him one

October 16th 2284

Knight-Sergeant Cutler leaves the Prydwen along with two lesser knights, Calvin and Woods, and three aspirants, Wade, Ruskin and Paytes. Their task is to scout the premises of a Super Duper Mart and determine if the area would make a useful store for arms or even a fallback point, if needed. The majority of the mission goes without a hitch, the vertibird launching perfectly and the six laying low on their short journey towards the ruins of West Milton.

They reach the set co-ordinates, mid operation as they are ambushed by a group of super mutants (of at least seven) who grab Ruskin and threaten to kill her if they didn’t surrender. The mutants are of much higher intelligence than average FEV subjects, not killing them outright, and the soldiers surrender, hoping that with their combined strength and cunning they could find an opportunity fight their way out. They brought the six in through the complex, in a clean state for a mutant hive, and lock them up in a smaller section of the store.

Knight Woods is taken to a closed off room with high security and stripped of his power armour; upon seeing vats full to the brim of FEV, he lashes out against his super mutant captors, pulling the rifle from one’s back and killing those binding him. Soon more fill in, and he is kicked to his knees and his head splattered against the glass panes from which his allies watch. The other Brotherhood soldiers are spared, saved only for a worse fate along the line, and left with the memory of a dead brother. They sleep, or try to, in a small corridor locked by chains on both sides, surrounded by the horrible stench of rotting meat as they rest. Wade, incredibly distraught from her closest friend’s death, sets off a distress signal in the desperate hopes to find a way out, and is comforted by Cutler after her fiddling brings him awake. By this time, the soldiers are left only with their uniforms and holotags, the power armour of the Knights left in the makeshift labatory; they dread what is to come next.

For a week, it feels as if the mutants have forgotten about them entirely. Some days, they are given food and water to share between five people, and sometimes go without it for a couple in a row. If not for Paytes’ sarcasm in even the darkest time of her life and their commander’s dogged hope, they would’ve been bored and starved to death much sooner. In the dark flickering lights of the abandoned store, the door is unfastened once more, and flanked by three super mutants hobbles a man with a cane; the right side of his body is far too large and twisted, his thin form hardly holding his deformed limbs up. The mutants refer to him as Leader, and refuse to answer to the team when they question the arrival. He looks over them, uttering the odd thing to his assistant mutant before he smiles emptily and leaves the room, helped along by a steady green hand to his side. Wade quivers as one approaches, clutching onto Cutler as it picked up her distress beacon. The super mutant eyes it strangely and throws it to the floor, smashing it under a meaty foot. He orders his soldiers to get behind him, checking over each one of their faces desperately, knowing not how to protect them. Tears fall down Calvin’s face, his sob cut short by a shot to the chest. Cutler yells out, trying to put himself between the mutants and the remaining soldiers; every clumsily shot fired misses him on purpose , and he can only watch as their bodies fall around him, Wade falling limp in his arms. As soon as the mutants leave, he breaks down crying, praying to every god and power he can remember to bring them peace.

They keep him alive, running tests on him every day and drawing blood until he feels light headed. A few rooms across, Leader and his adept mutants work on something tirelessly; as Cutler sits half-starved, staring at the walls to ignore the blood splattered all around him. He felt so much lighter, just skin, bone and wasted muscle; he winces as he noticed the torn jumpsuit was now baggy from a perfect fit. Two weeks pass in his strange Limbo, with no contact from outside that small room; the muties clear out the bodies a few days in. And when they give him food, he just tries not to vomit and gorges down every last scrap.

The day finally comes when they dragged his half-awake up onto two feet and walked him over to the labatory. He doesn’t fight, nor struggle, trying to stand stoically over the pool of FEV, trying not to think of what he was leaving behind. He feels like he’s drowning every second he’s drenched in the vat, slowly sinking, slowly dying. Every last shred of humanity was leaving his body over the course of hours, breaking apart and mutating into something new. Cutler lacks the pure strength to walk as he’s pulled from the FEV, instead keeling over to his knees with a crunch of bone; the strange man sighed above him, running his eyes over the broken body of the Knight with pity before ordering him to be taken away.

He feels the grasp of reality slipping away from the stretcher he lies on, feeling his heartbeat fade with the slow pulse of the light above his head. When he sees the Paladin in bloodstained armour run from the corner of the room, Cutler believes he’s already in heaven. But then the pain throbs back through every tear of flesh, and he remembers the bloody ending he was given. The horror on his face is unmatched by anything, pure rage from seeing what they’d done to him. Paladin Danse is ready to murder every single mutie left in the complex and bring Cutler to safety, bring him back from the edge of death. A fantasy, to say the least; he brings the pistol into the Paladin’s hand. Leaving it there, giving one last smile and embrace in arms before he sees blackness devour his vision, and feels his weary eyes finally shut.

After dismissing his own soldiers, Danse buries the squadron, leaving the Knights’ armour by their makeshift headstones of scrap wood. He recovers the holotags to hand back to Captain Kells, hoping to preserve their memory; the area stands for years as a safe haven within the trees, and the FEV strain that affected Cutler helps green life to blossom, flowers blooming through the gaps of his abandoned power armour.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #brotherhood of steel #bos fo4 #cutler #cutler fo4 #danse fallout 4 #paladin danse #fallout 4 companions #hc #i guess? idk

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annasinterests · 8 months

Text

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

all day long, i'm wearing a mask of false bravado ♫ trying to keep up a smile that hides a tear

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: she's alive!!! wow life has been so busy (and depressing lowkey) so sorry for taking forever to update. i do fear this may be a little underwhelming given the wait but i'm finally moving the plot along how i want it. i've also looked at this for way too long so i just need to post it or else it'll never leave the drafts. love y'all, enjoy <3

word count: 7.7k

pairings: joel miller x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, reader is lowkey highkey going through it, family dinner!, approaching threats, yearning, joel and reader have a bad case of the feels, swearing, mentions of blood/violence — please tell me if i missed anything!

It wasn’t addressed the morning after. Or during the late dinner that following night.

Not even two, three days later.

Which brought you to today, and still nothing. It was like a heavy fog that refused to dissipate, a complete contrast to the week before when words had flowed more freely between you two until that night. Now and then a brief conversation was shared, though its brevity only emphasized the distance that crept between you both.

And then there were those accursed papers, the unwelcome intruder into your already strained dynamic.

The progress was coming along much slower than you anticipated being that you had limited windows of time to work on them, often staying up late into the night in your room, or quietly flipping through them at the kitchen table or out on the front porch.

You had finally sorted them into two piles: the map and patrol schedules, and the roster and patrol logs. The constant scribbling, drawing, and highlighting had taken a toll on the papers, rendering them almost unrecognizable from their original state due to your desperate need to find connections, no matter how small they might be.

Despite your efforts to compartmentalize your thoughts on shift, your mind remained clouded with the ever-pressing mystery. Fortunately, today you’d been paired up with Mike, a partner that appreciated the comfortable silences and occasionally engaged in small talk about Jackson and everyday life, offering respite from the chaotic whirlpool that was your head over the last few days.

Returning to the stables after the long day wasn’t the reward you were hoping you felt like it was going to be, the idea of another sleepless night deciphering the papers looming over you. You leaned on the gate of your horse’s pen, observing the gentle giant before you, America.

She was brought in to Jackson just a few weeks after you settled, slightly underweight and skittish, but with the promise of improvement with time. It was during one of your grooming sessions when you hummed along to A Horse with No Name on your Walkman that you realized the irony of it, finding her name to be fitting of the circumstances.

She nudged your hands that were lazily draped over the wooden gate, prompting a weak smile from you. You reached up to caress her muzzle and forehead, her eyes closing in response as she leaned into your touch. Resting your forehead against hers, your hands moved to her cheeks, where you continued to stroke her gently.

“My best girl, always know when I’m off, don’t you?” She nickered and nudged you again, deepening your smile. “Rest up, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Just as you set her feeding pail within reach and tossed a few apples into her pen, the sound of your name caught your attention and spun you around to see Lottie. You squinted at the older woman, unsure of why she was all the way out here looking for you just as curfew was setting in.

“Lottie,” your voice was light with concern, guiding her shoulder gently back towards housing, “everything alright?”

“Oh, sure is!” She waved a hand, “I stopped by your house earlier today, I didn’t know you were out until Ellie told me and– which, can I just say, she is such a sweetheart. I mean she’s just-”

The corner of your lips curled up as she continued to gush, a prideful sense swelling up in you as when anyone spoke highly of her. You were drawn back into the conversation when she finally rounded to the point in front of her own home.

“Anyway, I didn’t know if you’d run out of this yet-” She reached into her satchel and retrieved a jar, “Here.”

You quirked a brow as she pushed it into your hands. The liquid inside looked dark in the fading light, but a familiar white label with cursive caught your eye. A smile spread on Lottie’s face as your eyes widened, recognizing the gift she’d given you, “Lottie, I-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, your fingers curling around the jar as if it were the most fragile thing in the world. You brought it close to your chest, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I can’t say thank you enough.”

“No need, sweetie.” Seeing the joy it brought you was more than enough for her, her hands clasped together under her chin and grinning. “Anything for you and Joel.”

You met her eyes at the mention of his name.

“I would’ve just given it to him like last time, but I figured since it was for you anyway, I’d just give it to you myself.” She winked at you, “Save you the wait.”

You tried to appear as cool as possible even though it felt like you were short-circuiting. Last time? She knew it was for you?

“Well,” you cleared your throat, eager to change the subject “thank you again, Lottie. I better get going before it’s too late.”

Offering her a sweet smile and a nod, you rounded the corner, your thoughts buzzing with the secret she unknowingly let you in on until you stepped through your front door.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the smell of food reached your nose once you stepped inside, the aroma being the best welcome home you’d had in a while. Ellie’s head poked into the hallway, her cheerful greeting echoing down it as you kicked off your boots and followed the delightful scent to its source.

To your right was Dina standing by the stove, deftly balancing a pot and pan, while Ellie and Jesse worked together by cutting bread and vegetables at the island. She spoke without taking her eyes off her cooking, “You can probably get in a quick shower before it’s ready.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the unexpected feast. “What’s all this about?”

“A thank you for letting us crash on your couch tonight.”

The post-curfew rule.

With a full kitchen, it still lacked one person. Hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt, you inquired, “Is, uh.. Joel home?”

Ellie answered, “Yeah, he’s-”

“Right here.”

His muffled voice called from the dining room, emerging seconds later while wiping his hands on his jeans. His gaze first landed on you, then your hands, then back up to you with a drastic difference from his initial look. Your fingers involuntarily curled around the jar, feeling an immediate tension. The kids were chattering, but you weren’t listening as you locked eyes with him, his lips curled inward slightly.

“Gonna share with the class?”

Jesse’s voice and nearing presence brought you back to the scene that was your kitchen, pointing at your possession. Rather than telling, you handed it to him and watched as he surveyed it.

“Ah, honey.” He stated once he saw the label, turning it over to a curious Dina that approached his side. “Tupelo– What’s that, something special?”

Ellie’s cutting slowed at his question, darting her eyes quickly at Joel, and then you. Your attention remained fixed on it, your mouth half-opened as you pondered how to respond. It was special– in ways that went beyond mere taste.

“The flavor.” You replied with a soft smile, turning away to go upstairs.

The shower was just what you needed to wash away the day’s stress, the hot water a godsend on your skin. You returned perfectly on time as everyone took their seats at the table. Jesse sat next to Ellie, Ellie next to Dina, Dina across from you, which left you besides Joel.

Awkwardly, you sat at the same time, acutely aware of the other’s presence yet made no move to so much as look at the other out the corner of your eye. And if it couldn’t have been more awkward, you reached for the serving utensils simultaneously. You both retracted and silently urged the other to go first, although Joel held out longer.

The bread and vegetables Jesse and Ellie had been cutting were spread evenly on a large board that featured sliced cucumbers, carrots, bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, zucchini, and a dip in the middle of it all. The main course consisted of salmon with lemon-herb orzo and broccoli that made your mouth water just at the sight of, leaving you thoroughly impressed and appreciative with their efforts of cooking such a meal for so many.

Your hand grazed against his in passing it over, the sudden contact an electric shock to you. You stole a discreet glance at his fingers as they curled around the handle, following up along his strong forearms where the veins subtly raised under his skin– those same veins that you knew continued up. A desire simmered in your lower belly, fantasizing about how those very arms and fingers brought you great pleasure just earlier in the week, now borderline aching to have them on and around you again.

“Don’t wait too long, it’ll get cold.” Ellie’s gentle words reached your ears along with a small smile, her forearm resting against the edge with a clean fork in hand.

Quickly glancing around the table, you noticed that everyone else had started eating except you, apparent that she was waiting on you.

“Sorry, just-” You shook your head and picked up the spatula to serve yourself, “You guys really outdid yourselves.”

Jesse chimed in, “Well, technically Ellie and Dina did everyth-”

Dina interrupted with enthusiasm, “Oh, nuh-uh! This was a group effort!”

“Yeah! You carried everything back to the house,” Ellie added while she picked up a forkful of salmon and orzo, “that’s like, half the battle right there.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, “Yeah, but I didn’t actually cook anything.”

Ellie covered her mouth, her words slightly muffled by the food. “But you did cut the shit out of some bread, though.”

Jesse lowered his fork, shaking his head with mock annoyance and trying to hide his laugh, which only caused a burst of laughter from the girls. You hid your own smile behind your hand, sneaking a glance at Joel who’d been hiding his behind a glass of water.

“Whatever, anyway– what’s new with you guys?” He poked his fork into his plate, “Haven’t seen you since before the party, no?”

“Oh yeah, the party!” Dina exclaimed, “How was it?”

The three of them leaned in eagerly, curiosity shining in their eyes. Their intense gazes demanding details from either of you. Quickly, you grabbed your drink and took long, deliberate sips of the ice cold water, prolonging any sort of answer. You didn’t even dare to look at Joel. You hoped that each gulp would shock away the memories that threatened to play at the forefront of your mind; the drinking, jealousy, dancing, arguing, kissing–

Apparently, he had the same idea.

“Ah,” Jesse spoke in a hushed tone, “I see.”

“Mmhm, me too,” Dina joined in with a conspiratorial whisper, “Ellie?”

You raised your finger before she could input, feeling her response through her smug expression she directed your way.

“Easy.” Joel’s sudden tone was light with a hint of caution, “Nothin’ for you kids to worry about, jus’ adults being adults.”

Your attempt to conceal a guilty smile didn’t go unnoticed by them, turning their gaze to you in unison, then back to Joel.

“Adults being adults, huh?” Ellie teased.

“Ellie–”

“Oh, come on, Joel!” She egged him on. “Give us something.”

You busied yourself with another bite as Joel did his signature sigh of annoyance, wearing an expression that clearly showed his mild irritation.

“Really? Nothing? Either of you?”

You both continued to stare back at her, Joel’s gaze more unamused than yours, as you wore a slight smile on your face.

“Yeah, they’re definitely not telling.” Jesse piped up, “They’re doing the parent thing.”

Your smile dropped like you’d been caught in the act, but it was really at his use of being her..

“What parent thing?” Ellie switched her attention to Jesse.

Parent.

Moreso the allusion of being her parent.

Maybe it looked that way– sure felt that way sometimes, but the term wasn’t ever actually used. Maybe it made sense, though. After all, she did call Tommy ‘Uncle Tommy’.

“You know, the thing where you can ask them a million times, but they won’t say a word? Either because the answer is so obvious or they’re just not going to spill the beans, so they give you the old stare-down until you figure it out on your own?”

Okay, maybe he was onto something.

Ellie fell quiet for a second, looking down at her plate as she pondered the idea. Then, she lifted her eyes to you both.

“So that’s what that’s called?”

You shared a look with Joel before you both took simultaneous sips from your glasses, inciting another round of laughter from the kids.

To your relief, the conversation veered toward lighter topics after that. You finished your meal quietly and enjoyed the banter between Ellie and her friends. Occasionally, you caught Joel in your peripheral, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched on.

It’d been just half-past midnight when you looked at the clock, dragging a hand over your tired eyes. You’d spent the last few hours trying to put together a puzzle with pieces that felt like they were from different sets, making less progress than you would’ve liked. But, you did now have a foundation regarding the people who threatened Jackson, finally having a solid list of their names and physical descriptions.

On paper, it seemed like a group of six to seven all in varying stages of their twenties, led particularly by a man and woman. According to the logs, it suggested as if they all had some sort of combat and marksman skill, though two in particular were perceived to have medical training as well.

With a heavy sigh, you put your pen down on your desk, slumping back in your chair and feeling your muscles uncoil from being hunched over for so long while you drew out an organization chart. You flexed your fingers, trying to soothe the soreness from gripping the pen tightly for so long, and gently massaged your aching knuckles.

Reluctantly, you scooped all the papers together and rolled in your chair to your nightstand to shove them in the drawer, calling it an “early” night. The soft glow of your lamp, usually a comfort, was becoming nothing more than a nuisance at the hour. All you wanted was to retreat into the darkness under your covers.

You rose and stretched out your limbs, aiming to release the tension but froze midway when a knock came from the door, glancing back at your clock once more before padding over to the door.

To your surprise, it’d been Joel, with coffee, tea, and a warm slice of blueberry pie.

“Saw your light was still on..” he gestured with the plate, “.. kids brought this over, too.”

You opened the door wider, inviting him in if he wished to enter. He slowly stepped past you, getting a waft of the treats as he did.

“Little late for sweets, don’t you think?” You teased.

He set down the plate and tea on your desk, shooting you a knowing look, “Since when do you say no to a midnight snack?”

You rolled your eyes at his point. Never. Especially when the smell of warm blueberries and sweetness filled the air.

You slumped into your chair again, throwing one leg over the other as you leaned back with the steaming cup of tea in hand. With the first sip, you could immediately tell what Joel had added to it.

He stood near the foot of your bed in a way that it looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, teetering between leaving and staying. You noticed his reading glasses folded and hanging from the collar of his shirt, making an excuse for him to stick around for a few more minutes.

“Late night reading?”

He followed your gaze down to his chest, his fingers momentarily brushing over them, “Been stuck on the same chapter for a while.. can’t seem to get past it.”

You knew the feeling too well.

“What about you?” He drew a sip from his mug, taking a seat on your bed

You leaned forward to trade the tea for the pie, the plate still warm against your fingers. “Can’t sleep.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie.

He nodded at the answer, glad he deemed it as a believable one. The slice was gone within a few bites, the portion expertly cut to serve as the perfect midnight snack. For a while, you sat in companionable silence, quietly sipping from your mugs.

“Did it-”

“Well I-”

You both paused, a light chuckle filling the space. He motioned for you to speak first.

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but..” you hesitated, gauging his reaction to the warning you were giving him. He remained calm– open, even, to your curiosity. “Did it feel weird to be called a parent again?”

His expression was still soft, though his eyes fell to the hand on his knee, his thumb absently tracing the material of his pants. It was rare that you even brought up the thought of her. She represented the stark difference of your losses, and while he never made you feel like yours were less, you knew there was a unique pain that came from losing your own child. One that you’d never experienced.

“It’s.. complicated.” He sighed, “But it didn’t feel wrong.”

You watched the gears turn in his head and patiently awaited his choice to delve further or simply let it rest.

“I was lucky enough to be a father once, and when I lost..” His voice died down, both his hands cradling the coffee mug but looking as if they’d drop it at any moment. Gently, you took it from him and placed it alongside your abandoned tea, settling next to him and rubbing soft circles on his shoulder.

“When I lost her, I thought that was it.” His fingers brushed against your knee, their movements almost trembling and uncertain. “I did the worst thing a parent could do– I failed her.”

You placed your hand on top of his lightly, curling your fingers into his palm.

“Yet, somehow, I was given a second chance.” His hand curled around yours, “She gave me a second chance.”

The vulnerability made your heart ache, to listen to him speak so candidly about something that haunted him for years.

“She can’t replace my Sarah, but I don’t need her to. I love her just as she is.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the admission, though you didn’t need him to say it to know that’s how he felt about the teen living twenty feet from your backdoor.

You rubbed your thumb over his wrist, glancing down at your joined hands and then back up at him. “She loves you too.”

You could see the small smile appearing on his face at your words, his head dropping slightly and nudging you with his shoulder in a way that elicited a soft chuckle out of you.

In the light moment, you pulled back to grab both your mugs and rejoined him at his side. You enjoyed the silence, savoring your drinks of choice again. The floral sweetness tickled your nose with each sip, the honey making it go down more smooth compared to when you drank it without.

“How do you feel about it?”

You met his soft gaze, the glow of your bedroom lamp casting a gentle light on his features, making him appear even softer despite his imposing frame. For a moment, your eyes roamed over him, tracing the path of his beard down his neck to the glasses that hung from his shirt, and catching a final glimpse of a vein that ran up his bicep and hid under his sleeve. He looked so..

You tapped your finger on the rim of your mug, forcing yourself to rip your eyes away and distract yourself with a sip of your tea before answering.

“I mean, it’s..” You sighed, searching for the right words but coming up short. “Complicated, like you said.”

Your fingers traced patterns on the mug’s surface as a rush of feelings overwhelmed you, but your voice remained steady, “She didn’t even flinch at the implication, which I feel says a lot, you know?”

You swirled the last bit of tea at the bottom as you gathered your thoughts. “I never got to have kids, but with her, there’s just this feeling, this..”

“Instinct.”

You looked up at him and found an understanding in his eyes. He wasn’t offering to fill the gap, he was telling you what it was.

“Instinct.. to protect her as my own. Be the one she can rely on, love her through all the good and bad– stuff like that.”

A light chuckle into his coffee had you knitting your brows together, “What?”

“That’s what a parent does.” He shrugged with a half-smile.

You bit your lip as you looked down, drawing the mug up as his words sunk in and downing the last bit of tea left. You shook your head, an uncertainty still persisting.

“I don’t know, Joel. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to take that place. I don’t want her to think that–”

“Hey– she doesn’t.” He interrupted with a hand between your shoulders, “You’re just bein’ you, and you are what matters to her.”

Between the lack of good rest and emotional turmoil, it left you too weary to offer a counter argument. You simply surrendered to his word and settled for silence. Slowly, you leaned into him and rested your head into the crook of his shoulder, his arm gently wrapping around you and soothingly rubbing up and down your arm.

“Thanks, Joel.”

The words were barely a whisper but brimmed with sincerity, earning a simple hum in response and a cheek resting atop your head.

Moments like this reminded you how fortunate you were to have them both, to have found and created a life together after enduring the worst kinds of casualties. To have loved, lost, and found a purpose again.

“Try to get some sleep, alright?” He squeezed your arm and withdrew, reminding you both of the early morning ahead.

You nodded, observing as he gathered your empty mug and plate and balanced them all with one hand. A comforting smile graced his lips before he took his leave, yet he lingered in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob.

“If it makes a difference,” he looked at you as he spoke, “I think you’re one hell of a mom to her.”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks and made you look down at your hands that couldn’t seem to stay still now. When you summoned the courage to meet his eyes again, he shot you a wink and finally closed the door.

Padding over to the lamp and finding the switch under the shade, your fingers ceased to flip it as you stared at the dip in your bed where you both sat.

It wasn’t the conversation you expected, nor a conversation you expected at all, but it was one that undoubtedly drew you closer to him.

Despite only getting a few hours of shut-eye, you surprisingly felt well-rested. You welcomed the sun peeking through the blinds as it created a calm atmosphere in your room that further motivated you to get ready for the day, as well as the smell of fresh coffee brewing that had you hurrying to get downstairs for a cup and quick breakfast before heading out.

Joel’s back had been turned to you in front of the pot, noticing your presence almost instantly and quick to hand you a thermos with a mumbled good mornin’. You leaned against the counter beside him, feeling the warmth radiate through the cup, the sensation running a pleasant shiver through your body.

He watched you carefully as he situated himself, your state of peace bringing a smile to his face; your eyes closed with contentment as you inhaled the rich aroma, the steam rolling over your face in small waves.

Over the rim of the cup, you noticed the jar of honey you acquired less than twelve hours ago sitting on the counter. You figured that Jesse had forgotten about it once he set it down. Crossing the kitchen, you picked it up, giving it a once-over before turning to Joel with a smirk.

“So.. you did know.” The remark lacked any real accusal.

Joel leaned back, gripping the counter with one hand, crinkling his eyebrows and casually shrugging as he brought the coffee to his lips, “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Your smile deepened, “Oh, really-”

He loudly put the empty coffee pot in the sink, effectively cutting off your incoming line of questioning, ushering you to put down the jar and move, “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

You rolled your eyes and swiftly reached for two apples from the fruit bowl on the island. Blindly, you shoved one into your own pack and deftly managed to slip the other into Joel’s for later, all while he rushed you both.

On the walk over you made a few more attempts to extract an answer from him, but were met with skillful deflections that made you giggle with each evasion. You took a sip of your coffee, raising and dropping your shoulders in a mocked defeat.

“Well, guess I could ask Lottie, then.”

He quickly shot you a look, “Or you could not.”

You laughed and playfully swatted at his shoulder, “So you’ll tell me then?”

He let out a huff and shook his head, gesturing to the patrol board that was surrounded by more people than you expected, “Let’s save it for when there aren’t so many ears around?”

You flashed him a grin and deliberately raised your voice with each word, “Why? Don’t want people knowing your little secret about-”

He swiftly stepped in front of you, putting just enough space between you both to maintain propriety. His faint smile lingered as he lightly touched your shoulder. “Listen, I promise you can give me all the grief you want later, alright?”

It was almost endearing how flustered he got, though you had no intention of revealing anything. Even after you agreed, he held your gaze for a moment longer, and you swore you saw a glint of something intimate before he turned away. Excitement fluttered in your belly after joining the line, your body flushing with a mild heat from the quick moment of close proximity.

As you approached the board, Joel lagged behind in conversation with a fellow patrol member. You scanned the board, quickly reading names over and between figures, though none revealed your own. Once at the front, you used your finger and dragged down the list until you found your name, darting over to the next column where you raised an eyebrow at seeing your partner for the shift was none other than Joel himself.

You turned to him still absorbed in discussion, moving out of the way for others and politely tapping his shoulder as you offered a warm smile to the other man. “Hey, we should start moving out.”

His eyes flickered between you and the board, pointing to it and nodding, “Yeah, let me go see-”

You placed your hand on his forearm to stop him from walking, being met with an inquisitive brow.

“You and me, Miller.”

You grinned at his surprise, patting his shoulder twice and brushing past to go to the stables. Besides being tricked by Tommy earlier in the week and today, you hadn’t been paired up for patrol in quite some time, and part of you believed this was another convoluted plan on his again.

It didn’t take long for Joel to follow you and ride down to the gate together, falling in with the assembled group with Tommy at the front giving one of his customary speeches before departure. He found you both easily with a mischievous smile, cementing your belief.

The route today was to go through Wilson Valley down to Elk Creek, take Elk Creek to Colten Bay, then loop back around to Wilson Valley. It wasn’t one of your favorite routes by any means, finding it less scenic compared to others, much of it consisting of open fields and small bodies of water overrun with algae that served as markers.

The first few hours were just as boring as you expected them to be, the majority of it spent traversing to Wilson Valley alone. You didn’t bother to hold America’s reins as she navigated the familiar path. Instead, your hands took small sections of her mane to gently detangle and then braid.

Your eyes roamed over the vast land and mountainous structures, the varying hues of green and yellow abundant everywhere you looked. Dilapidated houses and barns littered along the fields, worn and picked down to their foundation, no longer even offering shelter to the poorest of travelers.

As time passed, impatience crept in. It felt like you were seeing the same sparse trees and tall grass over and over again, the scenery quickly becoming more monotonous by the minute.

You peered over at Joel with nonchalance, “Is now a good time for that grief?”

A grin appeared on his face as he looked down at his saddle and then back to you, raising his hands and letting them fall on his thighs with a playful flair, “If you must.”

You simpered, simply reiterating an earlier point. “So, again, you did know.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I did. And yes, I got it from Lottie.”

You didn’t get the chance to get a question out before he started speaking again.

“She stopped me one mornin’ on my way in for patrol, not too long after she dropped off that box for you. Was askin’ me if you liked honey in your tea, ran inside and brought it out to show me.” He chuckled as he told the details, “When I saw what kind it was, told her I’d pick it up on my way home that evenin’.”

“But how do you?..” You furrowed your brows at him, still stuck on the how. “I don’t recall ever-”

“You remember when we’d camp out durin’ our runs back in Boston?”

You nodded.

“And how sometimes we’d bring a bottle if we knew it was gonna be a long night?”

Your groan transformed into a laughter and rang into the air with his, the era of that time certainly not lost in your memory.

“Yeah, it’d been one of those nights. You were sittin’ there, tellin' me about it with all smiles.” You cringed, now realizing why you didn’t remember. “Didn’t quite understand why until you said her name.”

You took up America’s reins in your hands as the bittersweet memories flashed through your mind of a better time. His voice held a soft, contemplative tone as he continued.

“The way you talked about it– talked about her– was like you were tellin’ a story from just a few days ago. Hadn’t seen you talk like that about anything before.”

Your grip tightened as he recounted the memory from his perspective, rubbing the leather between your fingers as an ache bloomed in your chest.

“So when I saw it– I knew I couldn’t pass it up, and I told you I didn’t know because I thought..” He trailed off, running a hand over his beard and letting out a sigh, “.. I thought it would’ve made it more special.”

Your hands were so hot you were certain the reins would’ve caught on fire. You couldn’t do anything but rub your thumbs faster against the material to quell the rising emotions, the stinging in your nose that made it crinkle without fail every time. Biting down on your lip, you looked away and let a few tears bounce off your cheeks before swiftly wiping away the remnants.

You got one of your answers, but fuck– you weren’t expecting all of that. He remembered because he saw how happy it made you one night all those years ago?

He knew– he fucking knew– and he never would’ve told you so that you could have it to yourself.

The alarms were blaring. The sign clear as day. It wasn’t coincidence, it wasn’t chance– it was pure deliberation driven by an old memory. And it messed with you hard, because you knew that in knowing, there was loving. A type of love without the need for grand declarations and elaborate speeches to prove it, because it’s proved by showing.

You couldn’t look at him during this minor epiphany, and a frown formed on his face when he realized. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, because you did– but if you did, it would be too real. It would mean that you were right and that he lo–

“M’sorry if I-”

“No!” The word came out more frantic than you intended, catching him off guard with its intensity. His face registered a mixture of confusion, quickly correcting yourself with a softer tone. “N-No, don’t apologize, Joel-”

“I–” A weak smile tugged at your lips, trying your best to keep the tears at bay, “It’s nice that you knew.”

Amidst all the other uncertainties and unresolved issues between you two, this was something entirely different– a direct, indisputable act on his part. Yet you knew it wouldn’t be so easily discussed as such.

So your horses continued to trot along the path in silence, entering Elk Creek.

You sat at the edge of a small lake in the warm gravel, little past the halfway point of the route and well into Colten Bay.

The last few hours were pleasant, marked every so often by eye contact and the exchange of a soft smile. Joel continued on about the honey ordeal, explaining that Ellie got roped into it not long ago when she asked to use some after discovering it in the pantry. She’d looked at him oddly when he told her to use it sparingly, then having to reason as to why. You chuckled as he recalled the details of their conversation that day, Ellie’s eyes widening at learning a new fact about you, pulling up a chair and practically begging Joel to share more stories about your time together in Boston. According to him, the conversation had started early in the afternoon in the kitchen and lasted late into the evening in the living room, even surviving their stop at the Tipsy Bison to grab a quick dinner, her curiosity unwavering

Despite the unremarkable scenery of the lake, you enjoyed it with Joel by your side. The trees towered over you enough to give shade from the dwindling sun, casting dappled sunlight over the forests and mountains in the distance that contrasted against the blue sky.

You passed a paper bag back and forth with jerky in it, preferring to string your pieces apart rather than bite and pull until your jaw was sore, which earned you teasing from Joel.

“Laugh it up, old timer.” You quipped, “You’re lucky there’s no more TV, because if there was, I’d film how you eat and send it straight to National Geographic.”

You couldn’t tell what made you laugh harder, your own joke or Joel’s belly laugh to the point wiping away tears from the corners of his eyes. You grabbed his arm to steady yourself, both of you involuntarily leaning in towards one another, and for a moment, it didn’t feel like you were working. You were just two friends enjoying each other’s company.

“Man,” you reached for the bag and shoved it into your pack, standing off and dusting off the back of your thighs, “I got you fucking good.”

Still chuckling, he shook his head and took your offered hand, following you back to the horses. He began to speak, but the words fell deaf on your ears as you heard the faint crunching of sticks and swishing of leaves close by, snapping your head in the direction and raising a hand for him to be quiet. He caught on instantly.

You both acted swiftly, instinct taking over as Joel drew his revolver while you unholstered yours, aiming with precision and falling into synchronized steps. The rustling grew louder and louder until a figure bursted through the underbrush and halted upon seeing you both.

Before you stood a young woman, clearly in a state of panic and distress. Fresh blood stained her clothes and smeared across her face. She raised her arms, chest heaving as if she’d been running for some time.

“I-I don’t mean harm!”

You maintained a cautious stance, your eyes fixed firmly on the woman. Her wide brown eyes darted nervously between you and Joel, sweat plastering her short hair to her forehead. She was short, maybe shorter than Ellie, and thin.

“I-I was chased.” She stammered, “Got separated from my people.”

“And who are your people?” You pressed rigidly.

“Just a few of us– please, you gotta-”

Whatever plea she’d been begging drowned out as you really began to stare at her. She was covered in blood, yet had no wounds to show for it. Not even a scratch. Slowly, details from your chart began to emerge.

Female. White. 5’1-5’4.

You narrowed your eyes.

Short dark hair. Slim build.

Your jaw tensed.

Fuck, what was her name– Mel?

You muttered her name under your breath, catching Joel’s attention as he looked at you in his peripheral.

“I’m sorry-” You cut her off sharply as she was still blabbering, “I don’t think we got your name.”

She froze, shuffling her feet and darting her eyes away and back to you, “M-Miranda.”

You decided to go out on a limb

“You seen any wolves, Miranda?”

Her face flushed, and you saw her mask slip for a moment before putting on the facade again, “Wolves? I haven’t seen any wolves.”

An anger simmered in you. Liar.

Joel took a step closer to you, maintaining his gaze on the girl while lowering his voice, “Care to tell me what it is you’re doin’ here?”

You ignored his question, “Get on your horse, Joel.”

“What?” He scrunched his face, “I’m not-”

He paused when he caught the lethal look in your eyes, scowling at your insistence but ultimately complying. There wasn’t enough time to explain nor were you privy to the idea of letting him in on your work outside of work.

“I told you my name, I think it’s only fair that-” She began to reason, but it only made you more angry.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” You backed up until you reached America and swiftly hoisted yourself up, flickering your eyes into the trees every few moments. You kept your pistol trained on her, “Be careful about those wolves, Miranda.”

You stared down at her, your voice dripping with venom, “If there’s one, there’s probably a pack nearby.”

Luckily with Joel ahead, he missed your insinuation. The woman glared you down and snarled as you rode off, dropping her hands down in a frustrated defeat.

You ushered him to pick up the pace, taking the lead through the remainder of Colten Bay and all throughout Wilson Valley, your head on a swivel the entire time. The hours painfully dragged by, doing a number on your anxiety as you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched the rest of the way home.

Immense relief washed over you upon seeing Jackson’s gate in the distance, whistling up to the guards so you could ride straight through and to the stables, not wasting another minute beyond the walls as the night fell.

You led America into her pen, fetching her feeding pail and gently gliding your hand along her neck as she ate. You couldn’t stop thinking of Mel, that look she gave you when you let her know you weren’t falling for her act.

It was too close, and you berated yourself mentally for not doing more. You shouldn’t have killed her, right? Even though she was the enemy? No. You didn’t condone killing people in that cold of blood.. Not anymore, at least. Should you have tied her up and brought her back? Interrogated her more? Maybe. But doing so might’ve pissed off your enemies even more and put Jackson at an even greater risk.

Truthfully, you did what was best. You recognized the trouble and withdrew without wasting any bullets or risking injury, moreover keeping Joel safe, who seemed peeved with you at the moment.

Looking over at him, you noticed a small figure at his side. Your hand fell hard on America’s gate, the other finding your hip as you cocked your head.

That fucking woman from the party.

You couldn’t miss the broad smile she aimed at him, leaning casually against a pillar and swearing a shirt that left little to the imagination. You scoffed loudly at the audacity to come out here just to flirt right before curfew.

Your disapproval didn’t go unnoticed, Joel shooting you a look over his shoulder that begged you not to start. Seizing the moment, the woman shot you a dirty look before switching back to her charming smile when he turned his attention back to her.

Thankfully, Tommy entered the stables, and for once, you were grateful for his presence. With a smirk, you strided over to Joel and slipped your hand under his arm to guide him away.

“Um, excuse me!” Her high-pitched tone doubled as annoying and surprising. Reluctantly, you met her gaze, but didn’t drop your hold on Joel. “We were having a conversation.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s too bad.” Her mouth gaped.

“I think what she meant was that-” Joel attempted to soothe the burn, but you were absolutely having none of it.

“I meant exactly that.”

You smiled at him, successfully pulling away and getting joy from seeing her on the brink of a temper tantrum. You even smiled through the scolds he muttered to you under his breath as you approached his brother, his mood entirely sour now.

Tommy’s face shifted from neutral to concerned upon seeing you both with contrasting expressions, “Everythin’ alright?”

The lack of an answer told him what he needed to know, patiently waiting until the stables cleared out completely before giving him a rundown of the incident. You omitted the details you figured from your sidework, chalking the encounter up to being a baiting technique for an ambush.

He rolled his lips under his teeth, tapping his foot against the wood with hands on his hips, a telltale sign of deep thought. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to expect of a response, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a form of criticism on your part or a question regarding the situation. However, it never came. He dismissed you both after noting he’d make the necessary alterations for tomorrow, commending you for getting out safely. It was clear that he was shaken up by it, which furthered your guilt.

Joel had a five-step lead on the walk home no matter how hard you tried to keep up. You kept calling out to him, but received no response.

“Joel.” You called again. No answer. “Joel!”

He kept walking, maintaining his pace. You caught up and tugged him back by his arm, “Joel, what the f-”

“Not now.” He tersely replied.

The response was frustratingly vague. Not now? What did he mean not now? He was five steps ahead of you again before you knew it.

“What, are you mad at me?” Your confusion was mounting, and the silence from Joel was only making things worse.

He remained unresponsive, like talking to a brick wall, but you refused to let the matter rest. You didn’t stop pricking until you got home and he couldn’t ignore you any longer.

“Seriously, Joel? You’re not ev-”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

You creased your brows for a moment, “Tell him what?”

He fixed you with a scrutinizing look, “How you questioned that girl.”

Shit.

“That was-” You darted your eyes away and back to him, letting your hands fall against your thighs, “I was seeing if she was lying.”

“About seeing wolves?” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Awfully specific if y’ask me.”

You straightened up, taking a step towards him, “Is there a problem with how I handle things?”

He let out a scoff, “The problem is when you don’t involve me.”

“Yeah, well next time I’ll make sure to stop and give you a full briefing!” Joel rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel a sting of annoyance, “Jesus, Joel– I’d think after all this time you’d have a little more trust in me.”

Your inward chuckle ceased when he didn’t respond, his reticence loud as he only looked at you. A pang of hurt hit you hard– Really?

The persisting silence only made it worse.

Whatever. Just go to your room and work for the rest of the night.

Walking past him, he stopped you with a firm hand on your hip.

“‘Course I trust you,” his voice softened, gently turning you to face him, “always have.”

The reassurance calmed you, reducing your fire to embers. His hand fell from you, but a slight frown remained.

“Jus’ can’t stand if somethin’ were to happen and I couldn’t do more because of what I didn’t know,” he searched you for understanding, “make sense?”

You couldn’t stay mad with how genuinely concerned he looked, growing disappointed with yourself for going at him hard when you would’ve done the same thing. Nodding, you mumbled out an apology to him, your eyes stuck on the floor.

Slowly, you felt his arms wrap around you in a way that let you know he accepted it. You exhaled a breath you weren’t aware you were holding as you yielded to his touch, resting against his chest and closing your eyes. The weight of the day felt heavy, but the sound of his heartbeat made it feel just a little lighter.

You thought things were on their way to getting better, that you were closer to tying up loose ends.

But it was only getting complicated again.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #annasmasterlist #anna writes

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