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cobrakaisb · 2 days

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call me, beep me, if you want to reach me

summary: percy, annabeth, and grover have some great news about their quest, but something is off about their hypothesis

word count: 2.8k

featuring: reader and annabeth’s relationship, slightly steamy reader and luke scene, more percabeth crumbs, fluff and angst

author's note: IM BACKKKKK...this one took me forever, and i am so sorry about that! between finals, coming home from college, and just dealing with life in general it has been a real struggle BUT we are finally back on the luke train 🤩 and trust, these next few parts are about to get real...anyways, enjoy 💗

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you run to the top of the hill, calling out to the three kids before they can cross the protective barrier surrounding camp half-blood.

“i just wanted to wish you guys good luck before you leave, although i’m sure you won’t need it,” you explain, walking up to the trio.

annabeth smiles at you. there’s an excited gleam in her eyes, and you remember how she’s been waiting for this for years -- her chance at glory.

“thanks,” percy mumbles, not really knowing what to say.

“i just…be safe okay?” you whisper, hands gripping tightly at annabeth’s shoulders while you look directly at her.

she nods, “i will. i promise.”

you nod in agreement, lips pursed in a tight line as you struggle to keep your emotions at bay. over the course of your years at camp, the bond between you and annabeth has grown exponentially. you love her like a little sister, one you’d do anything to protect. it scares you to think about her, a twelve year old kid, in the real world with no one looking out for her this time.

she senses your anguish, and pulls you into a tight hug. you freeze at first, not used to the affection from her, but ultimately wrap your arms around her small frame. the two of you stand there for a minute, embracing each other, but break apart when luke calls out to you from the bottom of the hill.

“it’s time to go,” he yells, and you imagine his pointed look and crossed arms. luke was just as worried as you, but he found it necessary to hide those feelings, claiming it was best for annabeth’s sake. you disagreed.

you nod, stepping away from the kids, back towards the chaos of camp, “i’ll see you at the solstice.”

you watch, with your stomach in knots from nerves and a mouth full of anxiety, as the kids step past thalia’s tree and into the world of monsters.

that was almost four days ago, and still no word from the trio. percy, annabeth, and grover were on their quest to find and return zeus’s master bolt, but the radio silence worries you. while you didn’t expect them to call every day to say good night — they needed to save their dracmas — you at least expected some type of update by now. the lack thereof leaves a nervous feeling in your stomach; something isn’t right, you know it, but you can’t quite determine what.

“those are called feelings sweetie,” katrina replies when you explain your current predicament to her.

you suck your teeth at her words, shoving her shoulder as you mumble, “shut up.”

“i’m being serious! since when do you care about three twelve year olds? no scratch that, since when do you care about anybody?” she shouts, throwing her hands up.

you look down at your converse, arms crossing over your bent knees as you sit and look at the rippling water. i care about luke, you think, and all those kids who will never experience a true family thanks to our parents. i care about you, and our friendship. i care about grover, who’s too kind for his own good. the list goes on and on, but you don’t say any of those names out loud.

instead you respond with, “i care about annabeth.”

katrina openly scoffs at your words, leaning back on her palms. “oh please, i’m talking about that little blonde.”

you sigh, looking at her over your shoulder. her short hair rustles in the breeze, and the unruly curls from spending the day in the water makes her possess a childlike innocence. if you didn’t know katrina, you’d think she was a sweet girl who’d chew you out for swearing, but you do know her; she’s anything but, and the constant taunting and teasing proves that.

“there’s something different about percy,” you explain with a shrug.

“yeah, it’s called your need to play mommy,” she mumbles.

“oh shut up,” you gripe, getting up from your spot on the dock. you make sure to kick her calf, not too hard, on your way back to hera’s cabin.

“harder,” luke commands, despite the sweat dripping down both of their faces.

percy groans, throwing his head back in frustration. they’ve been going at it for hours, practicing various techniques and maneuvers with wooden swords. while percy’s claiming was still new, and his slaying of the minotaur with no experience was still the talk of the camp, it was obvious to everyone that he needed to train. there’s an impending war coming, and the blonde boy has found himself right in the middle of it.

but he doesn’t even know what it is, you think, stepping into the dirt of the practice arena.

“give him a break, luke. he needs some hydration,” you exclaim, holding up two refillable water bottles.

they’re dripping in condensation, the ice from the pavilion already melting in the sweltering heat courtesy of long island summers. luke grumbles something under his breath, probably about how he doesn’t need a break, but takes the bottle from you with a squeeze of your hip. he stays close to your side as he drinks the water, and instead of giving him your attention, you’re busy looking over percy.

“there’s a cut on your forehead,” you say, pushing back some of his curls to get a better look.

“yeah, your boyfriend nicked me,” he replies, gesturing to luke with his chin.

“it was an accident! how many times do i have to tell you?” luke defends.

“a lot more. i’m great at holding grudges,” percy announces, and you roll your eyes.

“and that’s why you’re becoming friendly with annabeth?” you tease.

luke raises his eyebrows at your statement, looking over at the smaller boy, whose cheeks are suddenly a very dark shade of red.

“that’s different,” he grumbles, pouring the remaining water on his head.

“uh huh, right. whatever floats your boat i guess,” you reply, patting his cheek in a motherly fashion. percy swerves with an eye roll fit for a teenager.

“anyways, i’ll let you guys get back to it,” you announce, turning to face luke.

you kiss his cheek, and his palm splays across your waist. he gives it a gentle squeeze, a small sign of affection in a hasty moment. you smile at him, leaning into his chest to whisper, “go easy on him.”

“he’s training with the best swordsman in camp, he knows what to expect,” luke replies, cocky as ever, as you pat his sweaty chest three times before walking away.

the training arena is packed when you arrive, brimming with younger kids and blaring noisy chatter. they’re all clad in some sort of battle armor: shields, bronze chest plates, and celestial bronze swords. it takes a minute for them to notice your presence, but when they do they part like the red sea. most of them have the sense to keep quiet, watching you with nervous eyes and wary glances, fueled by the words of their older siblings no doubt. others, the more gutsy of the bunch, have the courage to whisper the exact words they heard from their siblings, warning their friends about you and your anger. you, however, are focused on finding the tallest head amongst the group; the one housing messy, onyx curls.

“he’s up front, helping jimmy with his armor,” a young girl whispers shyly, drawing designs in the dirt with the tip of her sword.

you stop walking, turning to face her. she’s young, no older than eight, and you feel the edges of your hard exterior soften from the sight of her pigtails and pink twinkle toes. you smile softly at her, hoping that it doesn’t scare her off.

“thank you,” you say, “i love your shoes.” she smiles at your words, giggling quietly to herself as a small blush coats her cheeks.

just as she goes to answer, luke appears at your side with, who you can only assume, is jimmy. you smile softly at him, ready to explain why you’re here in the first place, but luke beats you to it:

“let me just give them some instructions, then we can talk, okay?” he whispers, his free hand taking its place on the small of your back.

you hum in agreement, watching fondly as he takes charge of the large group of young demigods. he instructs them to practice the methods he just demonstrated in pairs, explaining that he’ll be walking around to give feedback once he’s done talking to you. as the kids partner up, he leads you to the side of the arena, where he finally meets your gaze with a raised brow.

“what?” you ask, crossing your arms at his confused stare.

“you never come here while i’m teaching lessons,” he answers.

“well, maybe i’m starting to,” you reply.

luke scoffs at your words, “no shot. what’s really going on?”

“i could be!”

“but you’re not. you hate their judgy, beady, little eyes. so, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours to make you seek me out while i’m in the middle of lessons?” he continues, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts.

you take a deep breath, meeting his chocolate brown eyes on the exhale, and state your concerns: “i’m worried. why haven’t we heard from them yet? it’s been days, and it’s not like annabeth to keep us completely in the dark.”

luke sighs at your words, “i’m sure they’re fine.”

you raise your eyebrows at his unexpected answer. this is luke, the same guy who refused to let you and annabeth out of his sight during capture the flag, talking? not a chance.

“so you’re not worried, at all?” you ask, searching for the true reason behind his lack of worry.

luke clenches his jaw at your words, looking away from you as he stares off into the distance. his eyebrows furrow, and you can see something flicker across his face. you don’t know what it is, but you know he’s battling something within himself.

“luke?” you ask softly, resting your hand on his bicep.

he shakes his head, a carefree smile taking over his face as he says, “it’s annabeth. she’s the smartest, most careful person i know. nothing’s wrong.”

you eye him warily, and nod your head slowly, “right. i guess i’m just overthinking.”

luke smiles, a teasing look in his eyes as he nudges your foot with his own. you look up at him, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as you meet his playful gaze.

“you always are,” he mumbles, followed by a loud laugh as you shove his shoulder.

he plants a quick kiss on your temple, hands rubbing up and down your sides before whispering, “i’ll stop by your cabin tonight. once they’re all tucked in.”

you hum in agreement, watching as he departs from your side and heads to the closest duo to provide feedback.

****

the door creaks open, and luke slips inside before the harpies register the noise. you’re already awake, patiently waiting for him on the singular cot in the cabin. the eternal flames of the fire pit burn brightly, leaving dangerous shadows on your face, illuminating the storm brewing inside.

“you’re late,” you quip, not even bothering to look up from your book.

you’re laying on your stomach, propped up on your forearms with a paperback book in your hands. you’re in your usual sleep attire, shorts and a tank top, and luke has to physically hold back a groan. he’s never wanted you so badly in his life, but instead of expressing that desire, he apologizes for his actions.

“some of the younger campers were arguing, you know i had to settle that,” he whispers, burying his face between your neck and left shoulder.

luke kisses your bare skin, slightly warmed from all the sun you’ve been getting recently. your head tilts, giving him access to more skin, and he doesn’t deny that. his lips move to your neck, leaving more than a few marks.

“careful. hera’s watching,” you tease, closing the cover of your book.

“let her,” he mumbles, practically moaning when you thread your fingers through his hair.

“oh you’d love that,” you taunt, tugging on his curls.

luke’s right arm wraps around your waist, flipping you onto your back, while his left pushes your book to the floor. your mouth falls open in shock, and you gasp quietly. he smirks at your expression, feeling satisfied to have you speechless. before you can ruin the moment, he captures your mouth with his.

the kiss is rough, all tongue and teeth. his left hand settles next to your head, while his right tugs your hips closer to his. your fingers are still lodged into his curls, and you use them to keep his face pressed against yours. he pulls back, gasping for air, but keeps his forehead planted against your skin. before he can reconnect your lips, you’re kissing all over his face.

“missed you,” you murmur in between kisses.

luke sighs, relaxing into your arms as the tension from camp counselor duties and other activities leaves his body. he knows eventually he’s going to have to tell you. he thinks it will be something like ripping off a band aid. but, for now, when he has you so eagerly in his arms, and he’s content with baring the brunt of the burden. besides, the kids aren’t even close to figuring out the truth, he’s sure of it.

****

“we know who stole the bolt,” percy announces, nothing but confidence in his voice.

luke falters, but only for a second, before asking, “how do you know?”

immediately, annabeth starts rambling. she mentions an encounter with ares, how he knows who the thief is, but was clearly covering for them. as she talks, luke realize that their suspicions are anything but correct, in fact, they’re so far into leftfield it’d be considered a homerun. yet, he runs with it, not willing to give himself up.

“so who would ares cover for?” annabeth finishes, waiting for luke to answer.

“his favorite daughter. clarisse is the lightning thief,” he answers, making sure to sound shocked by their groundbreaking discovery.

“chrion’s got to arrest her, find out what she knows. there’s more to this than just the bolt, something bigger,” percy explains.

luke and annabeth share a look of uncertainty, one that percy picks up on because he quickly adds, “don't ask me how i know, you’ve just got to trust me.”

as luke is about to assure the kids that he’ll get to it straight away, you walk into the office.

“talking to yourself again, castellan? i knew you were crazy but not this off the rocker,” you tease, stepping closer to his side.

as you approach, you see the faces of annabeth and percy in the mist. you smile at the sight of them. while they look tired, they seem pretty intact and much better off than you expected.

“how’s your quest going?” you ask, hoping to hear some positive news.

“not too bad. between ares, the chimera and medusa, i’d say we’re doing pretty good,” percy exclaims.

your eyes widen at his words, and you look to luke to see what his reaction is, but he’s not even looking at you. instead he’s watching the two demigods arguing about which monster occurred each day. he smirks at the sight of them, gently bumping his hip with yours before saying, “what is this?”

“what?” annabeth answers, confusion written all over her face.

“since when did you guys turn into an old married couple?” luke continues to tease, and you smile at the kids’ shocked faces. percy blushes at luke’s comment, and annabeth makes a point to avoid your gaze.

“not to change the subject, but we need your advice luke. we’re going to vegas and…” before percy can say another word, the iris message cuts out, the connective screen dissipating along with the rainbow that brought it here.

“well that was entertaining,” you joke, turning to face your boyfriend.

you expect him to laugh at your words, but his face is set into a hard line. his arms are crossed and jaw clenched as he stares at the spot where annabeth and percy’s faces were previously occupying. his thoughts are clearly running a mile a minute, and you step into his line of sight, calling out to him.

“they think they know who the lightning thief is,” he grumbles, gaze still distant and cold.

“what? who?” you ask, stepping closer to him. while it’s only the two of you in the room, you don’t want to risk anyone else hearing; this isn’t the sort of thing that should be spread around camp, even if you hate the majority of the people here.

“clarisse,” he starts, “but they’re wrong.”

“how do you know?” you ask, nothing but confusion plastered all over your face.

“because it’s actually me,” luke replies, finally meeting your gaze.

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beesmygod · 13 hours

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You see the vid from Internet Shaquille on his experiment with going all in with youtube shorts for a month? It feels validating with a lot of stuff you've said about algorithm chasing: "the site rewarded me with channel growth and money, but keeping that up seems unsustainable, and my audience immediately and noticeably became much worse."

i just found it bc of this bc i didnt know he had a second channel. im glad he's been able to see past the fae glamor they're casting on people that tricks them into thinking this shit makes any sense.

also thank god he posts actual numbers!!! he expects 1.5-2k per month from his 1-2 vids per month. but he made 7k doing shorts and was like "this isnt sustainable" and instantly recognized it as such.

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writingmeraki · 2 days

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the guide to crushes and how to bag them ft. football player!joshua smau !

¡ pairing : jock!joshua x reader, strangers to beef havers to potential lovers. josh being a bit ( a lot ) downbad ??

! genre : fluff, humour,oneshot smau.

¡ warnings : mentions of injuries, cussing,awkward conversations.

! a/n : this is dedicated to my ara @moonlbabe ♡ im so late in giving your birthday gift but i hope you like this! also this is going to be like a series so each member will have their own oneshot smau hehee let me know what you think :) a pain to deal with these many ss goodnight

!! major edit : this is so embarrassing but pls if u're seeing this I realised there's so many ss that don't line up and it's entirely my fault for doing this at 5am 😭 so if they don't make sense im very sorry but it's all good now!

1. don't perhaps shoot a ball at their face and if you do, pls apologise.

2. beg for forgiveness or perish in ur sins.

3. food is the way to the heart right?

4. contemplate n ur life choices @ 3am and do NOT message them.

5. blurt out ur feelings because fuck it we ball!!!!!

6. die of shame like a coward because you cant face ur problems until they eventually catch up to you.

7. THIS ACTUALLY WORKED???

8. the cat in da bag.

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys ; @toplinehyunjin ; @cherrylovescheol ; @porridgesblog

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

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icallhimjoey · 1 day

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More!!! More!!!! More bookstore!joe! MORE!!!!!!!!!! we've seen his erratic behaviour when he visits the store after not having been able to come in for a while, but what about the visit before he knows he's not going to be able to come in for a while?

omg im so here for the bookstore!joe requests, but the "i already miss you even though youre still here" somehow turned into whatever this is... idk why i went where i went, my apologies, and tw for vomit Wordcount: 3K

---

Lost Moments To Keep

You hadn't stopped staring at Joe with the biggest eyes. You seemed confused and weirdly mesmerised. Your eyes tunneled a little, vision darker around the edges.

"That's Joe." Anne just said, and then your eyes moved to give her the same wild look.

"And I'm Anne. We like me, a lot. We don't like Joe. You've got temporary loss of normal brain function, look, Google says." Anne held her phone to your face, too close for anything to register.

"You're not helping, Anne." Joe scolded through clenched teeth.

"Wha–"

Joe was on the phone to someone, and... you knew who that was. You knew who that was. What the fuck. What was Joe Quinn doing in your bookstore?

And why were you on the floor, exactly? Your left elbow hurt, but the back of your head much worse.

"Yea, she's awake. She hasn't lost consciousness at all." Joe said to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Confused, though. Brain's all scrambled."

"Do you feel dizzy? Google says you might feel dizzy."

"I... what day is it?"

"Oh my God, she's asking what day it is." Anne said, turning to Joe like she was blaming him for what you'd asked. In Anne's terms, she was panicking. Anyone who didn't know her, though, would think she was being exceptionally calm given she'd just witnessed her boss lift a box of books that tipped her over backwards.

Your head hurt.

And you did feel dizzy. And nauseous too, a little.

It made sense that you had fallen, but it was strange to not remember and to have two strangers fret over you in your own business.

Your eyes darted from the worried face of famous actor Joe Quinn who was stood by your feet, to the wildly uninterested face of a younger girl who sat next to you with her legs crossed as she scrolled on her phone.

"Any vision disturbance? Are you more sensitive to light than you'd usually be, do you think?" Anne asked, seemingly going down a list she'd found online.

"Okay, thanks. We'll make sure she doesn't move until you get here." Joe looked at you as he said goodbye and hung up. That looked like your phone.

"Her mum's on her way."

Why was he using your phone?

"Any mental fogginess?" Anne continued, ignoring Joe and additionally ignoring you, entirely unfussed that you weren't answering any of her questions.

"Hey," Joe softly said, catching your attention as he stepped closer and leant an elbow on the counter as he bent down a little. He smiled warmly at you when he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Joe Quinn.

Joseph Quinn.

What was he doing in your bookstore?

And who the fuck was Anne?

Your eyes moved from one to the other until you saw black spots and the pain behind your eyes grew. Your ears were ringing when you softly said, "I'm... I'm gonna throw up."

Joe almost hadn't gone in today. He almost hadn't, because he didn't really have any time to waste. But, Jesus, he was glad he was there.

God, imagine if he hadn't been.

When Joe had woken up that morning, he thought he was likely going actually insane. He was flying out for work the next day, and instead of preparing, of packing, of seeing family and friends before he'd be off for a while - instead of all that, he showed up on the bookstore's doorstep at 10 am sharp. Right when Anne unlocked and opened the door. Just because that was where he wanted to be. He kind of already missed the store, even though he was right there.

Anticipatory nostalgia; Joe could feel it in his bones.

Instead of stepping aside and letting him in, she gave him a deadpan tired stare and waited for him to take the A-frame from her hands to put outside on the pavement.

Joe happily helped out. Said, "Good morning, sunshine!" all chipper and laughed when Anne looked like she had to try really hard not to vomit.

He'd called a good morning into the store, got a faint "Morning!" in reply from the backroom where you were making yourself a coffee, and found his ledge... empty.

Anne saw him look at the spot where he usually left the books that he was reading. You'd granted him that small little surface area of the store so you wouldn't have to keep putting his books back on the shelves, and so Joe wouldn't have to go looking for those same books again the next time he'd come in. A win win little ledge of excuses for Joe to return to your store. A real privilege, Joe thought.

Except he'd left books there.

He knew he did.

Where had they gone?

"I tidied." Anne said unsentimentally and challengingly looked at Joe over her mug as she took a sip of hot coffee.

She loved being a little shit and inconveniencing Joe wherever and whenever she could. Tidying the store was part of her job, and Joe knew if he was to complain, she'd have the upper hand, because what was he even really doing? The store wasn't a library, no matter how much he had starting treating it like one.

So instead, Joe used her inconvenient power move as an excuse to take his time to browse the whole store and took care to be in the exact wrong spot at the exact wrong time.

You secretly smiled every time you heard Anne sigh with frustration and heard her mutter, "Move!" under her breath before using a shoulder to push him aside. Every single time, Joe pretended he was totally oblivious. Would go, "Oh! Sorry! Was I in the way?" all innocently, but you could see how his mouth was fighting to keep his own smile hidden.

It took maybe forty minutes for Joe to have built up a little stack of books on the small sidetable next to your granddad's armchair in the window, and then Joe sat and read undisturbed for an hour and a half.

You loved it when Joe was in.

Just sat there.

Reading.

Absolutely engrossed in his own little world.

The faint feeling of envy was always overshadowed by the joy of being allowed to unashamedly stare at him from the counter, leant on both elbows.

You'd brought him a coffee after those 90 minutes of silent reading, and he'd given you a quick wink and a smile as a thank you.

Customers filtered in and out, and you went from moments of it just being Joe in the store to having eight people needing your attention simultaneously. It was both busy and not, and the switches in energy had left you in a weird spot mentally.

You hadn't realised you'd fully skipped lunch.

You'd seen Joe dart out for some pastries, and you'd ordered Anne to get her ass into the back to go and eat something, but you never followed up on your "I'll take my lunch after."

It was why, in a moment of quiet, you'd picked up a box of books from behind the counter that had sort of been in the way the whole morning, you been unsuccessfull.

Maybe you'd gotten up too fast.

Or maybe the box was just too heavy.

The entire thing had taken you down quicker than you'd been able to get it off the floor. It didn't help that the box was open. The reflex of your body became about making sure none of the books would tip out and hit you in the face, when the reflex should've been about cushioning your fall.

You shot no arms out.

You didn't drop the box.

You just... fell.

The weight of the box pushed the air straight from your lungs and left you gasping.

The back of your head had hit the wooden floorboards so hard, you immediately saw stars.

After impact, for a short moment, it was pin-drop silent. Anne froze, pausing for a moment, listening. She was waiting for you to go "I'm all right!", but that never came.

Joe was ripped from his book at the sound of the fall, but was confused. One moment you'd been there, and then now, you were gone.

When a soft wincing gasp was heard from where you were hidden form his view, he was on his feet in an instant, rounding the counter and finding you there on the floor, box of books heavy on your stomach, eyes completely glazed over as you rapidly blinked up at the ceiling in an attempt to erase the fuzzy bits in your vision.

"Oh my G– Anne!" Joe was quick to remove the box and the books that were tumbling out. "Breathe. Careful, don't move, just focus on breathing." Joe advised as he watched you struggle.

"What dropped?" Anne asked, getting closer now and trying to find the source of the whack.

"She did."

"I know she did, but what was that–"

"That was her." Joe tried to make eye-contact. "Hey, just breathe, all right? Are you hurt?"

The eye-contact failed, as did answering Joe's question.

You hadn't even properly heard him it felt like.

Anne and Joe shared a look, for a moment both unsure of what to do. Who was going to take the lead on this? Joe didn't work there, but Anne was a literal teenager.

Before they could even think of discussing a game plan, you incoherently asked through a constricted panicked voice if anyone had thought of the fire escape. They both turned to look at you, both faces frowning in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What was that?"

Joe and Anne spoke at the same time.

"I think I forgot. Are the bugs gone?" you winced as you moved a hand to where your head hurt, and Joe was quick in deciding he was going to have to be the one to call the shots on this. He'd clearly chosen to spend all day at the bookstore for a reason, so it seemed.

It took a little while for you to return to normal.

You babbled through some more disjointed chat whilst Joe carefully checked with his fingers if your head was bleeding. It wasn't, which was good. But you did wince in pain as he slowly felt around in your hair before you tried to sit up and take your shoes off.

Anne had to fight you back down onto the floor and sternly told you to relax whilst Joe slid his folded jacket underneath your head.

When your consciousness returned into the room, you were met by a girl sat by your side who was scrolling through concussion symptoms, and a guy stood up by your feet, talking to someone on the phone.

"What's going on?" You'd asked, and Anne had just casually said, "You fell."

Joe'd called your mum on your phone. Anne knew the code. Joe told himself he'd give her a stern talk about normal-people things like privacy later. Priorities lied elsewhere right now.

And then you'd thrown up into the box of books that had taken you down earlier.

Served it right, Joe thought.

Joe'd held your hair through it, and kept brushing back little pieces that kept falling into your face. His touches were so tender and gentle but they still hurt, and you were absolutely mortified. So fucking embarrassed. There was a fucking celebrity in the store and you were vomming into a box of books that, halfway through, got swapped for an empty bucket.

It smelled awful, and it probably was the most unattractive thing in the world.

You felt like the most unattractive thing in the world.

"Sorry you had to see that." you croaked when Anne handed you a glass of water to rinse your mouth.

"We think you're concussed."

Somehow, that made perfect sense.

"You took quite the tumble. The back of your head must be hurting."

You moved to sit with your back against a cupboard door, careful to not lean your head back too far, and Joe decided to stay put next to you. Keep an eye on you. Hold your hair back in case you weren't quite done throwing up yet.

Meanwhile, Anne had moved into the backroom and did her best in trying to save whatever books she could from where you'd thrown up over them.

"Do you have any pain anywhere else?"

You paused a second to focus on the feelings inside of your body, and then moved an arm to touch the opposite elbow.

"Your elbow? Are you bleeding?" Joe used a soft hand to move your arm so he could have a look. "Does it hurt a lot?" No broken skin. Joe hoped that maybe the blow he'd heard had been your elbow, and not your actual skull.

"Stop asking her a million questions!" Anne shouted from the back, like she hadn't been doing the exact same thing before.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, wouldn't you?" Joe's voice remained soft and warm for you. All kind and gentle.

For a moment, you just looked at him.

"Hi," he smiled, and he saw how you were trying to puzzle the situation together. "I'm Joe."

"I know who you are."

"Oh, that's great!" Joe exclaimed.

"Were you... did you happen to just be in here to buy books, or..."

Oh.

Not so great.

You knew who he was, but you didn't know who he was.

"Um, no, not really. I actually come in here a lot. I um... you let me hog one of the armchairs where I read books."

"You do?"

"Yea, it's awfully rude of me." Joe smiled. "But I'm lucky. You're very cool about it."

Joe could feel his chest swell at the faintest hint of a smile coming from you.

"He's your boyfriend." Anne bluntly interrupted as she stepped back into the storefront, and before you could even begin to process that wild bit of information, she added, "But not really. The two of you are... you're really weird about it."

It sounded like a weird joke, and you looked between the both of them to figure out what the punchline was, because you didn't get it.

Joe just smiled when you looked at him.

"She hates it."

"I do." Anne confirmed, walking across the store to move the sign on the door to 'closed'. Your mum was going to come by and pick you up to get your head checked and there was no way Anne wasn't going to go with.

Joe craned his head to watch Anne as she went to fetch the A-frame out front and then leant close and whispered, "We kind of like that she hates it."

That made you smile into your lap.

"Have you um..." you started, suddenly frowning. "Do you have a plaster for me?"

Joe's concern immediately grew again. He wasn't quite back where he was twenty minutes ago, when you'd laid right where he was sitting now, unable to catch your breath properly, but his eyes bulged like he was just as worried anyway.

"Why? Are you bleeding? Where?"

"I've not finished my homework."

"You've not..." Joe tried to make sense of something nonsensical before he realised he'd lost you again.

Joe wondered if he could let someone know he wasn't going to be able to leave the city tomorrow. Let alone the fucking country. The prospect of leaving you like this for a few weeks and having to actually do a job seemed impossible.

How was he not going to be thinking about you all the time?

To be fair, his life was already like that, a little.

But especially now; after all this, no one could expect him to not constantly worry if you were all right, could they?

"I don't think I've got any plasters for you, sorry."

"Oh," you seemed disappointed, but only for a second. "You bought Blindness from me."

There you were. Back again. God, he really did already miss you, even though you were right there.

"I did."

"You hadn't... you'd not read it, but you'd seen the film."

"I had."

"I remember."

"Read it in one day."

You'd likely be fine.

People got concussions all the time, didn't they?

"Sorry, I'm all over the place."

"You're not actually," Joe smiled. "You're right here."

Joe was going to leave the country tomorrow, and you'd stay with your mum until you'd be one hundred per cent again. You would keep the store closed, so there was no use in him hanging around anyway. And then, when you'd be all better, he'd pop back in on a random Tuesday morning without any warning, and then he could tell you all about today. You'd likely not remember a thing of it, all of it a lost moment to you, but one that he'd get to keep. Get to cherish. Get to share with you later.

"My head hurts..." you suddenly said like you'd only just realised it.

"Yea, you fell." Joe could go through this loop again, he didn't mind.

"I did?"

"Hmm, we think you're concussed. Your mum is coming to pick you up, have you checked out by a doctor to double check and make sure you're okay."

"We?"

Joe saw how you went to reach for the back of your head again, but before your fingers could disappear into your hair, the bell above the door chimed and Anne said, "No sign of her yet."

"That's Anne." Joe calmly explained, and then reached to grab hold of your hand, protecting you from touching your painful bits again. He'd make sure to hold it until your mum arrived.

Joe saw your eyes grow wide as you recognised him again, and smiled.

"And I'm Joe."

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x Y/N #joe quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #bookstore!joe #like a poem #lost moments to keep

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skelliko · 3 days

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Hello first time requesting

I was wondering if I can request reader x hanma were they have a toddler and hanma rough plays with him and overall hanma being a good father to the point that the reader is moved to tears as they see that since they never really saw how a loving father is supposed to look like so it’s like healing their inner child seeing their kid being genuinely loved by their father not just in name

(It’s to heal them daddy issues yes)

a/n: we're in this together cause me too. at first I didn't wanna write it since I've stated I wouldn't write about marriage or pregnancy but I'll let this dodge just cause I said so. (btw I did the kids gender as a boy cause you mentioned 'him' once, not sure if that was on purpose or not but i hope thats okay)

____

Hanma Shuji |-° a good father

it was scary getting married, afraid that it would turn south and become unhappy to the point where we'd turn down walls just to get our points across. afraid that cause of all our bickering he'd be secretly go with another woman, become avoidant and distant but that hasn't happened, at all.

finding out I was pregnant was terrifying, afraid that I would fail as a mother of a sweet baby and id be the reason for his dreams and innocence being taken away. you don't need to be drastically smart to know that you eventually become your parents, everyone has some sort of element inside of them that resembles their care givers. so I was petrified that I'd turn out like my father, or maybe that I had married the wrong man to commit in having child with; just like my mother. generational trauma doesn't go easy on anyone, so my heart always shook and sank whenever i held my boy.

I try, I really do try a lot to make sure that what I went through won't ever happen to my- our kid and he'll grow up to be loved. but fear does still strike me since I'm yet to figure out how to be as a parent, Im aware that how I grew up wasn't right at all, but that doesn't mean that I know what good parenting looks like.

I've told hanma about my fear of parenting before we had agreed on having a kid, he didn't look at me weirdly, he didn't say anything negative, he didn't tell me that I shouldn't worry half assed as if it should be common sense to figure it out on the spot. instead, he told me not to worry sincerely, he meant every word he said, soothed me with warm words and some of his little jokes, and told me I have plenty of time to figure out if I want to be called 'mom' and that there was no reason to rush into things. so after a few days I've made up my mind and went on to discuss baby names as a hint that i want to keep it.

----

I hear small giggles in the other room, ones that belong to our child, a child that has the most gorgeous smile and has his father's eyes. his tiny baby hands have grown to be toddlers and he's still growing everyday.

I wiped my hands dry and clean on a towel in the kitchen from washing the vegetables that I was about to cut up and cook. I could have started right away with the cooking but I wanted to quickly see what's so amusing that got our boy all loud and humoured.

leaning against the door frame I saw our boy stood up on his little feet with his arms circling around in the air, Hanma was gently pinching his tummy with this thumb, pointer and middle finger making him ticklish and making 'pow' and 'wow' sounds. Hanma was smiling and laughing along as he'd change him movements to then annoy the kid by tapping him on his cheeks and nose, the boy would try and move hanma's hand away but despite his annoyance he was enjoying it and that just kept Hanma to keep playfuly annoy him.

is that something that fathers do? is that what they call rough play, or is this something else?

a main thing that also struck me in this moment was that hanma was smiling while playing with the boy. Im aware that parents can still smile but seeing his joyed expression instead of a bothered and annoyed look felt really refreshing.

for the past few years we've had our boy he's been nothing else than a good father, sure we've had a few off moments but there will always be short lasting moments where it feels like we're all sinking because of our own mistakes and flaws.

but over time Hanna has made me realize many things, about himself, myself, our boy and on an overall what it means to be a good parent. what considers to be good parenting is a very controversial topic for most but I'd say as long as the child is happy and isn't sat through abuse or neglect, that's more than enough.

my boy will have the childhood that I needed but couldn't have, Hanma is being the father that I needed but didn't have. our boy will be smiling all throughout. while im over here trying to keep in my angsty emotions, c'mon I'm better than this aren't I?

I put a hand over my mouth to stop my quivering lips but my teary eyes took that as a chance to spill over before I could wipe them away. looking away to avoid any attention but before I could go back to what I was doing before; Hanma called my name out and I felt his hands slide up my upper arm and turn me around. he saw me cry before I saw him notice.

"hey hey, what happened? talk to me" he said worryingly

looking at him briefly, I wanted to speak up but even I was unsure on what I was crying about, but then i looked at our boy for a few seconds and it only then clicked in. I shook my head gently before replying "no it's just- you're a good father. and I'm glad our boy will have you to look up to"

hanma immediately brought me into a tight hug but then chuckled a little, I felt the vibration of his laugh against his chest. whats so amusing? "and he has an amazing mother to look up to as well. I know how stressed you've been and I'm really proud of you for how far you've gotten"

♡---

#i hate writing about a sappy family #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma shuji #shuji hanma #hanma x reader #hanma shuuji x reader #hanma shuuji x you #hanma shuji fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers hanma

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mamawasatesttube · 1 day

Text

on the note of yj in owaw im also thinking about this bit of tim narration from yj98 #36...

tim is feeling betrayed and frustrated (understandably), but what stands out to me is how he thinks of "that whole guardian fiasco". in the earlier yj owaw tie-in, he and the others express disapproval of kon for "stealing government property":

they let it go at the end to move on, but...

but like, the baby in question is a cadmus clone (just like superboy himself), cloned from a man who expressly wished that he not be cloned and forced back into the fight after his death.

as an aside, clone baby guardian arc is possibly the BEST in sb94 - it's about bodily autonomy and the humanity and personhood of clones, and the dignity that should be afforded to all people vs the way waller & spence etc want to treat them as property and disposable, reusable weapons.

so i think overall tim and the rest of yj talking about that situation like this... well, those plot threads overall got dropped in the general aftermath of owaw, but it feels like a real missing scene to me. because realistically, given everything kon stands for and everything he went through for baby guardian's sake, to give him the right to choose, i think tim and the others all talking about it like "it's the government so they must be right" would not sit well with kon. (and frankly, would be a pretty solid in-universe reason for kon to further mistrust their orders re: rescuing the suicide squad members, leading up to him disobeying and trying to save steel.)

owaw is arguably the most serious conflict anyone in yj has been involved in up to this point (kon and bart were both present for genesis, but genesis wasn't... Like This, imo. kon was also involved at the destruction of coast city, but this is kind of a tangent.) my point is, up until this point, they are all kinda operating under the assumption that the government is generally on the side of the good guys. this is partly bc of how comics are written, of course, but also makes sense as an in-universe stance for most young heroes to take; tim in particular is definitely a lawful good, and at this point he doesn't understand that his personal rules don't always 100% line up with what the greater authority of The Government dictates.

kon is a contrast to this, because kon does not have the whole "grew up with a family as a part of normal society" backstory like tim and cassie do. kon's involvement with cadmus, a government-funded organization, generally is written such that cadmus are good, except that the closer we get to owaw, the more questionable their intent seems. we see the agenda and their push for eugenics. we see guardian being treated as a tool and not a person. we see waller taking over.

anyways, all of this is kind of to say - i think it's a real shame we don't actually see a big conversation between tim and kon in the aftermath of this. i want to SEE tim get that first real big crack in his worldview that makes him start to think that huh. maybe if lying to small time authority figures for the sake of doing good, like me lying to my dad about being robin, is justified... then maybe directly disobeying the law in the name of doing good is also justified. like, i want kon to look him in the eye and ask "do you think i'm government property, too, then, jackass?" and i want tim to have to really sit back and think on it. i wanna see that character development.

because like - it is a flawed viewpoint, that tim and the rest of yj were written to treat kon trying to free a baby like this. but it's also not an unrealistic one when they're all teenagers who haven't really necessarily had to face moral quandaries of "what's right vs what's lawful" with such high stakes before. i wish this plot had actually gone more places with everyone.

#rimi talks #all of this to say ....... missing scene fic when #maybe i make this part of my kon & steel agenda after i work on the kon & lois agenda sdkfjfh #sorry for the longass post. i just have SO many thoughts #kon #tim #guardian

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thewertsearch · 3 days

Text

EB: and now i have all these sweet wind powers. EB: which is how i am making this car fly! GG: ohhhhhh! GG: that makes sense GG: dave had mentioned you reached the god tier

I think it’s funny that becoming a god hasn’t changed John’s personality, nor his modus operandi. He’s just as meandering as he's always been, and reaching the God Tiers simply enhanced his ability to meander.

If your Title does relate to your personality, then this would make a lot of sense. Perhaps you always get a power that helps you follow your own natural inclinations.

GG: but he did not say what it involved D: GG: he probably didnt want to make me worried EB: maybe, or he was just being some sort of aloof coolkid. GG: or that!

It’s nice that John and Jade are fully on the same page in this conversation, with access to more or less the same information. That’s pretty rare in this session, and it’s particularly rare with Jade.

For a long time, she was in the lonely position of knowing more than everyone else - and then, when Descend ruined everything, she was forced into the equally lonely position of understanding jack shit. When John declared that they needed to get Jade into the loop, there was real weight behind it, and it’s gratifying that we’re finally here.

GG: i wonder what space powers would be like?? […] GG: oh well EB: maybe you shouldn't rule it out though? EB: i mean, you did mention your dream self isn't COMPLETELY dead, remember?

I’ve been thinking about this.

See, the main problem with a Jade/Jadesprite merger is that when John died on his Quest Bed, he was completely supplanted by his Dream Self. There was no more Real John.

This wasn't a problem for him, because both Johns appeared to be the same person, with the same memories and consciousness. When John abandoned his realself, he didn't lose anything, apart from his sylladex.

Dream Jade, however, has completely diverged from Jade. They're clearly different people – so if one of them was erased in the merger, we’d be losing a unique individual.

Yes, if Jade died on her Quest Bed, her two selves might fuse into one entity, with both sets of memories - but there's no guarantee, especially when a Sprite is involved. There's a decent chance that Jade's ascension would destroy one of her incarnations, and that's too great a risk.

GG: why dont you tell me about your new friend? GG: he sure seems to be enjoying that horn! […] EB: he is just this silly guy i met when i woke up here. EB: he seemed to be curious about me and followed me around for a while. […] EB: also, another thing about him… EB: he has the queen's ring! […] GG: thats great! john you have to get that ring from him! EB: i've tried! i asked him politely for it and everything. EB: but he is very protective of it!

The Ring would be incredibly useful, if it wasn't destined for Earth.

As it stands, any attempt to use it is fraught with risk - and permanently separating it from WV would almost certainly doom the timeline.

EB: i think he is supposed to keep it. GG: you do? EB: yes. once i saw something in the clouds. EB: it was hard to tell what was going on, but i saw him! EB: im pretty sure it was the future, and he had the ring, and… […] EB: and then the cloud stopped showing me. EB: but i am pretty sure that some day… EB: he will have to wear it!

It doesn’t sound like John actually saw WV wearing the Ring. Seems more like he saw him holding the Ring, and jumped to the 'obvious' conclusion.

WV held the Ring for his entire Exile, and never used it once. I’m actually a little skeptical that he will wear it, at this point, especially since he's started dreaming about how much he doesn't want the thing.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3417 #s123

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apt502-if · 5 hours

Note

the decision to change M’s background/origin with the MC was an amazing game design decision because ngl a rivalry for rivalry’s sake sounded pointless to me and I was dreading having to interact with their character in the scenes for mc’s job. But now, readers have a reason to be interested and see where their character story goes!!!!! I’m so excited about that change! ALSO! WELCOME BACK AND IM PROUD OF YOU FOR PUTTING YOUR HEALTH FIRST :)

I thought the same too :> Which is why in the demo, M isn't immediately in their "hate MC" way since it's been years and it isn't in their nature to be like that without reason :P so they're still very snarky and give off the sense they dislike MC but it's not at a full level yet. It's only when the reason for their rivalry (fighting about a position/promotion which is a lot more than meets the eye) comes up that pushes M to go full rivalry "oh yea i hate you" mode :P It makes more sense that way :> Hopefully it makes sense for everyone else.

THANK YOU :>

#mail #about: mona/mason

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noxturnalpascal · 14 hours

Text

Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 10)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

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

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

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

⚠️PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERIES WARNINGS, ESPECIALLY: canon-typical violence/death, guns, blood/injury⚠️

III. Path to the Future

CH 10 (7.1k) Joel’s head snaps up, waking him from the sleep he didn’t realize he had fallen into. He looks directly across from him and meets Skinny’s sleepy-eyes, seemingly having just been woken up as well. They both sit frozen for a moment, startled still by the noise that woke them up. There are muffled screams coming from behind where Joel is tied up. Your screams.

Another beat passes and Skinny jumps up, grabbing the knife - Joel’s knife - off the ground, running back behind Joel’s chair. He hears grunting and cursing, a nasally voice hollering Mike, hey, Mikey, and then your panicked cries. What the fuck is happening? Joel tries to turn in the chair and look behind him but his bindings are too tight to move. He tries to move his hands towards his pants to reach for that knife he has tucked inside them but goddamnit, he’s tied up so fuckin’ tight his hands don’t budge at all.

More shuffling and crying behind him, Skinny cursing and shuffling around, then the slapping of bare feet on the wood floor, and you appear before him. Holy shit. You’re covered in blood. Not just a little bit, but an entire body’s worth of blood. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Every inch of your exposed skin is tinted red, your hair and clothes still wet, the bottom of the shirt dripping onto the floor, pooling at your feet which have left a trail of bloody footprints behind you. Only the whites of your eyes stand out, wide open in horror.

“What did you do?” your voice trembles.

“W- What?” Joel sputters. “What th- are you okay?”

Skinny’s shoes come squeaking up behind him, Joel can hear him panting, and can feel the kid’s quick, panicked exhales blowing hot on the back of his neck. He checks and rechecks Joel’s bindings, pulling and pushing on all of the ropes. Joel can see his hands are shaking and stained with blood.

“It wasn’t him, he’s still tied up. Besides, I was watchin’ ‘im,” Joel hears Skinny say in a quivering voice, conveniently leaving out the part where he fell asleep in his chair.

Except Joel knows he didn’t do anything, he has - in fact - been strapped to this chair for hours. Where is the Big Guy? Jesus Christ, is that whose blood you’re wearing? He looks you up and down, trying to make sure you’re not wounded and the blood isn’t yours. You’re twitching and hyperventilating but you don’t look like you’re in pain. You suddenly still, and grab your head, horror washing across your crimson face.

“Oh my fucking god, he didn’t come here alone!” you screech, finally waking the sleeping couple on the other side of the room. You point your red finger toward Joel’s face. “Who’s out there?”

“I don’t know what you-”

You slap your open palm across Joel’s cheek, hard. So hard you have to shake your hand afterwards from the sting. The metallic smell of blood overwhelms his senses and Joel’s cheek bites with the sharp pain.

“Quit fucking lying and tell us how many people you brought here,” you hiss, inches from his face now. Your terror-filled eyes bore into his and he remembers how much he missed that wild look you used to give him - but not like this. You look half mad. Joel just stares at you in confused silence.

“You guys need to check the fucking perimeter,” you scream at the kids standing in the middle of the room staring at you slack-jawed. “Now!” They stumble over chairs, the legs scuffing on the floor as they hastily make their way out of the building. You turn back to Joel but address the silent figure behind him. “Why are you just standing there? You need to get this fucking asshole to talk before they kill us all.”

Skinny rounds the chair and stands in front of Joel, looking much less menacing now that the shit has apparently hit the fan. He’s pale as a ghost, the dark red blood smeared on his still-shaking hands and up his arms making a stark contrast. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows down nothing, trying to gather courage. Hurry up, you whisper behind Skinny, you gotta hurry up. He hesitates in front of Joel, wringing his hands and patting his pockets for his knife.

Then Joel sees the knife, glinting in the moonlight just behind Skinny. In your hand.

You move quickly, drawing the knife deftly across Skinny’s throat, a ruby line forming along his ghastly complexion. Skinny’s eyes go wide as he clutches at his wound, the line dripping and then pouring blood, all over his neck, all over his hands, all over the floor. Several spurts fly out and hit Joel square in the chest. You cut deep. Shallow sounds come out of Skinny’s mouth - no words, just air - as he sinks to his knees. Joel watches him slide in the pool of blood forming on the floor and tip over onto his side, time moving in slow-motion as the life drains from the boy’s eyes in under sixty seconds.

He’s so caught up in watching the light leave Skinny’s eyes that your hand on his arm startles him. He didn’t even notice you’d moved next to him, and he watches you silently cut away several ropes with the bloody knife. He shakes his stiffened shoulders, shrugging off the restraints and pushes his body off the chair, fighting the tightness and pain from sitting tied up for hours. He turns to check on you but he’s immediately distracted by the blood-curdling scream you let out. Instinctively he ducks and swivels, looking around for the threat.

He feels you thrust the knife handle into his hand and he takes it with shaking fingers, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He wipes the handle on his thigh to make sure his grip isn’t compromised by all the blood. You’re still screaming but he can’t see what you see, even with the moonlight illuminating the darkened room he doesn’t see the danger. The two kids come running back into the building and stop short, halfway across the room. The boy slowly raises a rifle up. Joel looks left and then right… then down. Oh. Skinny lies dead at his feet in a pool of blood. Joel is covered in blood spray and holding a knife while you scream bloody-murder behind him.

He’s the danger.

He looks back up at the couple and sees the boy aiming the rifle at Joel’s head with a tremulous grip. Great, he’s probably gonna miss his head and shoot him in the gut, and Joel’s gonna die a slow and agonizing death by his own fucking rifle at the hands of a chubby-cheeked teenager. What the fuck have you done? Wait, what the fuck are you doing? Joel sees you walking a wide arc around him, skirting towards the couple in the middle of the room, towards your friends. Your friends?

They’re not even looking at you, their focus solely trained on Joel, who has dropped the knife and stands with his arms raised in surrender. He watches you get closer and ease the rifle out of the boy’s hands - which he eagerly allows - happy to give the responsibility of taking a life to someone else, to anyone else. You check the chamber and tuck the rifle butt in the crook of your arm, but instead of turning the gun back on Joel you swivel it right back at the boy and shoot him directly between the eyes. His body falls to the ground with a sickening thump.

The girl yelps from the noise and then - realizing what you’ve done - takes a breath in to let out an anguished cry. Only she never gets the chance. You’ve chambered a new round and aimed the short distance to your next target. Joel hears himself cry out as you pull the trigger, the girl’s body immediately falling over, slumping down onto the ground next to her boyfriend.

You swing the rifle around now and aim it at Joel. His hands go higher in the air. He can’t remember if you were a very good shot when you lived with him, but you’re at a distance now where it would be difficult to miss him either way. He also just watched you murder three people in front of him, so he doesn’t doubt your commitment. You stare down the barrel at him, eyes black and grip steady. Your breathing is even, your demeanor is calm and calculated. You’re still dripping scarlet but gone is the terrified creature from moments ago. Then again, why would you be scared?

You’re the scariest thing in this room right now.

You hold the gun there, aimed at Joel, and he isn’t sure if you’re going to pull the trigger. You didn’t hesitate when you shot the other two, so maybe if you were going to shoot him you would have done it by now. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, drawing it out, making him sweat. He watches your face, passive and unblinking. Maybe this is payback for the way he treated you and all the shit he put you through. Maybe the bullet will be your final revenge. He can’t say he wouldn’t deserve it.

“You didn’t have to kill those kids,” he says, working to appeal to your humanity. “They’d already given you their gun.”

“I did them a favor. They were never gonna make it. They were soft. Weak.”

“So were you, once,” Joel coos.

“Is that what you think?” Your voice is even as you take steps forward until the barrel of the gun touches his chest, right over his beating heart. “I think I just trusted the wrong person.”

You see fear flash in his eyes. Good. He always had a way of underestimating you, of treating you like a delicate little thing. You tried to be good for him, wanted to expose your soft underbelly, felt an unhinged desire to please him, wanted to earn his love and affection. But you weren’t fucking weak, not after everything you’ve been through. It was this man - insistent in his tenderness - who wormed his way past the defenses around your heart, only to turn into a venomous serpent once your walls were down.

“You gonna shoot me, baby?”

Your eye twitches.

“Stop calling me that. I’m not your fucking baby. I saw you holding your baby.”

You jerk the gun away from his chest, stalking past him and pushing open a second door that had been behind where he was tied up. He turns and watches you walk out into the moonlight, dropping the rifle in the grass as you head towards the lake, stripping off your soiled clothes as you go. You reach the water’s edge and although he knows it must be close to freezing, you march in without hesitation. He watches you until you sink beneath the rippling blackness, bubbles rising where you once walked.

Once you’re submerged in the frigid liquid you let out the scream you’ve been holding in all day, forcing all the air in your lungs out, watching it rise and break at the surface. Fuck this day. Fuck Roy for his sadistic cruelty, your lip stinging again - reopened from your underwater wail. Fuck Mike for trying to put his hands on you in the dry-storage room. He was supposed to help you, not help himself. It could have gone down differently for him. Fuck those kids for blindly trusting you, making it too easy to see your plan through. Joel was right, they were innocent and would have easily surrendered. But it was all fucked, wasn’t it?

In fact, fuck Joel most of all. Fuck him for putting you in this position in the first place. Fuck him for drawing you in and then betraying your trust. Fuck him for continuing to think he deserved you, his obsession with you making it impossible to stop thinking about him. Fuck him for getting whatever he wants, for screwing anything that moved, for putting a baby in Bianca, for wanting anything that isn’t you. Fuck him for driving you away from the only place that felt like home in a very long time, forcing you into this cursed circumstance. Fuck him for every minute of today you had to endure.

Fuck. Him.

You come up for a breath, the chill in the night air sending goosebumps all over you, making your skin sting. You draw your hands across your body, washing the evidence of your violence off of you, before you walk back out of the water. You stride naked and dripping, cold and shivering across the lawn back into the side door of the dining hall. Joel stands right where you left him and watches you pass by him, moving to the dry storage and grabbing your clothes off a high shelf. You get redressed as he watches in silence and then grab the remaining jerky and half jar of pickles from your pack.

You share the midnight snack spread out on a table with Joel among the bodies littering the floor like some kind of macabre picnic.

“Did you know these people?”

“Oh yeah, we go way back,” your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“But they trusted you. They knew you-”

“They knew what I wanted them to know,” you bark.

“And what was that?”

“I told them I could get them to safety, get them fed. I told them I could help them.”

“But why would they believe you?”

“Because it’s exactly what they wanted to hear, Joel,” you laugh. “You spend a lot of time talking. I know people like you and all, but you don’t do enough listening. I listen to people, I pay attention, and if you listen well enough people will tell you precisely what they want. You can use that to your advantage if you know what you’re doing. You can convince them the thing you want is the same thing they want.”

When you look back at him you catch him looking at you with his mouth ajar. He’s taking in everything you just said and piecing together things in his mind bit by bit. Slowly, an entirely different version of you is coming into focus. He’s been working on manipulating people for years, honing his skills and constantly making adjustments to build up his community for protection. Meanwhile, you’ve done the same thing in under a day. You had these people wrapped around your fucking finger.

Effortlessly.

He remembers the lengths Tess went through to protect you from him, even going so far as to call her loyalty to him into question. Now that he thinks about it, sending you away to the farm behind his back was probably the only move Tess ever made against him in their entire relationship. Sasha once told him she felt bad for you, since you were so helpless. But you weren’t helpless. You were calculating. Oh my god, was everything a manipulation? Was every tear you shed just a carefully planned design to tug on the heartstrings of those around you?

“Did you listen to Tess?” he asks.

You slowly nod your head.

“What did she want?”

“Someone to take care of,” you reply.

Well, shit. You gave Tess what she wanted, didn’t you? And Sasha, what did she want? Probably someone to teach. Raw clay to shape into the huntress she had been taught to be. Based on your performance tonight it looks like that was also a success. He thinks about Amber, bragging about how proud her father Hank was that you were living with them, even if her mother was less than impressed. What were you doing for Hank? Jealousy flares up in his gut, licking like a flame at his insides.

“What about Hank?” he mutters. “What did that holier-than-thou old fool get outta you?”

A sideways smile forms at your mouth at the implication he’s made. You stare dead-eyed at him and let him await your answer, let the possibilities race through his mind, a hot flush creeping up his chest at the idea of another man’s hands on you. After a long pause, you speak.

“A son.”

“A- a what?”

“He had a daughter, made in her mother’s image. He didn’t have a son to work the farm with him.”

“You did that?”

“No,” you laugh to yourself. “But he thought I did.”

“Who did your work if you didn’t?”

“The farmhands,” you shrug. “And before you make another gross insinuation, I didn’t blow them either.”

“And they helped you because…”

“I don’t know,” you sidestep the truth, shoving the last bite of the last pickle in your mouth. You let the sour, salty liquid flood your mouth as you think it over in your head, how much you should tell him, if it’s a secret worth keeping. Finally you come back around to honesty. It doesn’t matter anyways, you don’t live there anymore. “They’re gay... Danny and Diego, they’re gay. They were afraid I’d out them or something so they did all my work for me.”

There it is, more manipulation. You’re like a fucking puppet master, everyone dancing from your hands. Where does it end? Where did it begin, he wonders? He remembers how he found you, clicker on your heels and bleeding out after barely escaping what looked like a hell of a fight. If only you could have convinced the clicker to feel bad for you, it might have been a different outcome.

“Where were you before I found you half-dead at the bottom of a mountain?” Joel asks.

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m curious. You never told me much about your past, but it feels like you wanna open up tonight.”

“That’s not something I’m lookin’ to open up about, Joel. They were very bad people and I was lucky to get away from them.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Good thing you escaped.”

“I didn’t-” you pause. “I didn’t exactly escape.”

“What?” His brows knit, deepening the line between them.

“They let some of us go scouting so we could find other places to raid,” you explain.

“And who, may I ask, convinced them of this idea?”

He already knows the answer.

“I might have brought some of the finer points of the plan to the table,” you shrug.

This is it. This is how you’ve survived the last nine years. You refuse to carry a knife, you can barely cook a meal without cutting or burning yourself, he doesn’t even think you can start a fire on your own. But you’ve gotten other people to take care of you, feeding off them like a little parasite, intertwining their survival with your own.

“You’re-”

Genius. Maniacal. Sensational. Devious. Fantastic.

You’re everything he’s been trying to be.

“I’m- …what?” you ask him to finish his thought.

“You’re more like me than you’d like to admit,” he teases.

“I’m nothing like you, Joel. I’m just trying to survive.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do too, baby.”

“Cut that shit,” you slam your hand on the table, the noise reverberating in the silent stillness. “You’re a controlling maniac, lying to people so you can get your dick wet. So you can have women barefoot and pregnant in your kitchen.”

He laughs. That’s not who he is. Maybe the lying part but not the rest of it. You make him so goddamn crazy. He’s had his head in a fog for months, lost in his thoughts of you and now it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. The new you. No, the you that was apparently always there, the you that you’ve kept hidden from him. Mouthy, capable, and fierce. In your eyes he sees fury and passion. Damp hair tied in a messy little ponytail, dried blood under your nails. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever been more attracted to you.

“I love you,” he blurts out. The first time he’s said those words out loud in nearly a decade.

“That’s not gonna work on me anymore, Joel,” you sigh.

“I’m not tryin’-,” he huffs a deep breath in and out. Then he says quieter, almost to himself, “I shoulda said it before. A lot a’ things I shoulda- shoulda done different.”

“You shoulda said that shit last year,” you chuckle darkly. “I was over the moon for you. Out of my mind… stupid…” You grab a bite of jerky and chew on it slowly. “You know, I spent my whole life being mediocre. Good at some things but never great at anything. Not smart but not stupid, not ugly but not pretty, not useless but certainly not useful. I used to think about my purpose in life and wonder if anyone would remember me after I died. I’d think about if my life meant anything at all to anyone else, if anyone would miss me when I was gone.”

You pause to take another bite. Joel sees another metaphorical wall coming down between you. You continue your thought. “And then… one night I was washing dishes with you, and you told me about your daughter. When you looked at me - the grief in your eyes - I felt your sadness like I was washed in it, like it was poured over me. It wasn’t just your sadness, it was our sadness, like we were soaking in it together. In that moment, with your eyes on mine… I felt like maybe I had a purpose.

I felt like if my purpose was to rescue you from that sadness, then I’d do it. If my purpose was to drown with you in it, then I’d do that too. The more I let you in, the more sure I was of my feelings and the night you went down on me it felt like it was all made clear, everything was revealed. I thought we were united. I thought you felt it too, our bond, my purpose. That maybe I was only put on this earth for you, to be yours. To love you and be loved by you. If that was my purpose; to only live for you, to only matter to you, for you to be the only one to remember me… If true, that would be enough for me.”

Joel watches a single tear fall out of your eye, which you quickly swipe away, muttering stupid again.

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” Joel says, his voice a whisper.

“You knew what you were doing,” you level at him. “You brought me into that house to be just another toy on the shelf. Just another broken girl to add to your collection. You didn’t care about my feelings as long as you had my devotion.”

“I was trying to help you.”

“Stop lying to me Joel. Or are you still lying to yourself? You were helping you. And the worst part was, that after everything you did to me I still felt your hands around my fucking neck when you stood up there with Bianca and your-,” you wipe another tear from your cheek. “Your goddamn baby. You still had me in a chokehold and the shattered pieces of my pathetic broken heart just turned to dust.”

“Bianca’s baby-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Joel. I can do math, I know it was before I got there but I don’t give a fuck, ‘cuz you’re still a liar. I couldn’t stand to be there for one more day watching you with anyone who wasn’t-”

Me. You stop yourself from finishing your sentence. You’ve spilled enough of your blood on the table. He doesn’t even deserve the honesty you’ve given him, and you’ve given him all of it. You take deep breaths and long quiet stretches out between you.

“I’m an asshole…,” he breaks the silence. “...and a liar.” You make a face that tells him you’re very much not impressed by his admissions.

“I know. You already know. None of it was your fault. You know that too. I’ve been doin’ this for a long time, been usin’ people and doin’ whatever it takes to keep myself from-,” he takes a deep breath. “I pretend it’s to keep me alive but that’s not the only reason. It also keeps me detached from formin’ any real relationships. Keeps me from carin’ about anyone that I could potentially… lose.”

He sees your face melt, just for a moment. Hitting you right in the soft spot you must still have for him deep inside. You shake your head slightly.

“I’m sorry, but… that’s just not an excuse.” you say softly.

“I know. It’s not,” he affirms. “It’s just the why, doesn’t excuse anythin’.”

“Why are you tellin’ me this? It doesn’t change-”

“Bianca’s baby is not mine,” he interrupts.

Your eyes snap directly to his, narrowing in suspicion. He knows this is what seems to bother you the most, even more than his one-night indiscretion with Kerri. It’s the truth but he’s not sure you’ll believe him.

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe your bullshit now, do you?” you toss out, a cruel smirk on your lips.

“I thought she was your friend. She never told you it was mine, did she?”

“No, she-,” you suddenly feel awash with guilt. She didn’t tell you anything. Literally. She hardly ever spoke a word. You think back of all the time you spent together. You were content to sit with her in silence, daydreaming about Joel and assuming her quiet nature meant she was okay not talking about herself. But maybe you just didn’t ask. Turns out you just weren’t a very good friend. “She was pretty quiet,” you finish.

“Yeah, ‘cuz of what she went through,” he says as if you should know.

You shake your head. You have no idea what he means. “I guess we weren’t that close,” you admit.

“She wouldn’t ‘a told you either way. She was basically a mute… PTSD the doc said. We rescued her from some very bad people,” he says, copying your earlier phrase. “They were using women for their bodies, doin’ horrible things… Bianca was pregnant when we found her. She didn’t trust anyone but me ‘n Tess, so we took her in. She was too scared to be touched and I never laid a fuckin’ finger on her, not once.”

You nod your head slowly, absorbing the information he’s provided and replaying things over in your mind.

“Why did she have to leave the house?”

“Tess thought it’d look like it was my baby, that it’d look like I had some kind of ‘harem’ goin’ on at the house.” He meets your eyes and you exchange a knowing glance. “I know, but still, she thought some people wouldn’t like the idea of it, regardless of what was true and what wasn’t. Plus, she said it’d be best if Bianca had a ‘better environment’ to raise the baby in.”

You nod and then a thought pierces your mind like a needle.

“Why… why didn’t you just tell me this the other day when I asked you if it was your baby?”

He looks down, averting himself from your scrutiny.

“I wanted to hurt you,” he whispers.

He’s still looking down so he doesn’t even notice when you jump up and dive across the table, knocking him over in his chair and scrabbling your hands to his neck. You’re screaming at him, telling him he’s an asshole, telling him he ruined you, telling him you hate him. Even though you got the jump on him, he’s easily keeping your hands from squeezing too tight around his neck, gently prying your fingers off and pushing you back off him.

He gets up off the ground, hauling you up with him - thrashing and screeching - pushing you up against a column by your shoulders and waiting for you to calm down. There’s not tears in your eyes anymore, now they’re filled with fire. You grit your teeth and continue to claw at the air, trying to pluck his eyes from his head. He’s apologizing, softly repeating over and over that he’s sorry, saying it so many times that it starts to lose its meaning.

“Hurt me?” you say hoarsely. “All you ever did was hurt me.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes. “I’m sor-”

“I hate you.”

“I deserve it.”

“Fuck you. I hate you,” you seethe.

He lets you go, expecting you to attack him again - which would be justified - but you just stand there with your fists balled and your eyes aflame. Maybe you’d feel better if you hit him, if you made him bleed. Maybe he’d feel better.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I hate you.”

You collide like two stars, your heart orbiting around his until they burn supernova hot. Your cores are drawn together by the laws of the universe until they collapse, creating a black hole where your bodies once existed. All the air in the room disappears, as does every thought and doubt in your mind. Gravity itself seems to fade away until you’re nothing but a weightless void, floating through space or floating underwater. Either way his lips are on your lips and you can’t fucking breathe.

You feel his hands everywhere, hot and rough, grabbing onto your flesh like he’s going to tear pieces off and take them as souvenirs. Your tongue wraps around his, seeking his taste, craving the feel of him. His warmth, his scent, his desire. It’s there, low in your belly, the effervescent feeling of being the object of his affections. You hate him. You miss him. You hate yourself.

You shove your hand down the front of his pants and without preamble, grab his half-hard cock in your hands. Joel jerks away slightly, causing you to lose your grip, your hand slipping out of his jeans. Your faces pull back from each other and you stand there in the moonlit room, staring into each other’s eyes, the only sounds the racing of your heartbeats.

“You don’t want me?” you ask, panting.

“Of course I want you,” Joel answers.

“Then what’s the problem?

“Did you fuck that guy?”

“You think I fucked the stranger who kidnapped me?”

“I heard-”

“He was dead before you heard anything,” you let your words sink in. “Do you want me or not, Joel?”

“You’re all I want.”

“Then take me, Joel. I won’t ask you again.”

Joel grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls your face to his, making you whole again. You go for your own pants this time, unbuttoning and unzipping while he follows your lead and does the same. He pulls back to remove his shirt but you yank him back towards you, biting his lower lip and then licking your tongue across it to soothe him. He responds exactly how you’d hoped, wincing and then retaliating.

He quickly turns you around and pushes you bent over, face down onto the table, yanking your pants below your ass. You’re not wearing underwear and a vision flashes in his mind, the reminder of what happened to your underwear and what you’ve done here tonight. He resists the instinct to look around the room, to survey the carnage. This is inappropriate. This is the end of the world. This is - apparently - what you want.

He grabs your arms and crosses them over your back, your hands resting together at your lower back and with his other hand takes out his cock, now rock-solid and leaking precum. He runs his tip up and down your wet seam a few times before notching himself at your entrance. He doesn’t move his hips forward despite the burning desire to do little else. He leans over your back, bringing his mouth to your ear and gives it a few gentle kisses before you try and shrug him off of you.

“Let’s go already, what are you waiting for?” you goad him.

“Do you want this?” he whispers, placing another kiss just behind your ear, his stubble brushing your neck and causing you to shiver.

“Come on. You waitin’ around for me to change my mind?”

You try to move your hands, to reach for him, but he holds you in a firm grip.

“Tell me you want me,” Joel huffs in your ear, no more than a murmur.

“Shut up and fuck me already-”

“Please,” he begs.

“I want you to fuck me Joel, please just fuck me,” you drag out the last word as he pushes himself into you.

Every shallow thrust of his hips drives him deeper until he’s finally home, his hips meeting your backside in perfect harmony. You feel fucking amazing.

“This cunt is so fucking perfect,” he grits his teeth, head tilted back and speaking to the ceiling.

He lets go of your arms and grabs the flesh at your hips with both hands, pulling out and slamming himself back in. You reach back and clutch the edge of the table and he takes it as his sign to set a rough pace, slamming himself into you again and again, driven on by your satisfied moans. He leans over you again, puts one hand down on the table next to your head and tangles his other hand into your hair, pulling back your head to expose your neck to him.

“Tell me again,” he commands. “Tell me you want me.”

He runs his lips down your neck, nipping your tender flesh with his teeth when you don’t answer.

“Fuck,” you yelp. “I want it Joel. Give it to me,” you repeat the last sentence over and over, babbling into the table.

He places more kisses on your neck, down to your shoulders and across the top of your back before he stands back up resuming his thrusts, gentle at first. He feels you squeezing his cock as tight as a fist, feels your wetness coating him, mixing in the coarse hairs at the base of him. He grabs your hips again, driving himself harder into your center, feeling what you denied him all this time. This is what he’s needed, what he’s wanted for so long. You. You and him. This is how it was meant to be. He’s half out of his mind, grunting, wishing he could keep doing this forever, knowing he’s not going to last much longer.

He can’t wait to get you home and have you in his bed, can’t wait to properly have his way with you. He’s going to lie you down and lick you until you shake, to fuck you until you can’t walk. He’s going to take his time with you, make you come, make you scream, make you cry, make you forgive him, make you love him again. The thought nearly drives him over the edge and he lets out a long whine as he stutters his hips, quickly grabbing the base of his cock to stop his release.

“You close, baby?”

“Don’t stop,” you reply.

“I know but I’m gonna-,” he moves his hips again, slowly at first, feeling your fluttering cunt around him. God, you’re gonna be the death of him. “Are you close? Do you need me to-”

He lifts your hips up with his left hand and moves his right hand to snake under you, to rub circles around your clit the way he knows you like except you slap his hand away before he can get it under you.

“Don’t-” you snap. “Just keep going.”

You feel him grab you firmly back at your hips and resume his thrusts. He resumes grunting and groaning, muttering filth to himself about your perfect cunt and how you were made for each other. You bear down, grabbing the table edge harder and squeezing his cock in a tight clench. A noise begins in the back of his throat and builds as it comes out of him as a wail. He must be about to come. One of you should.

Not you. This feels good but this isn’t intimacy. This isn’t love. This isn’t forgiveness. This is goodbye.

Joel’s hips come to a halt and he moans over you, cursing and shouting noises you’ve never heard him make before. He’s muttering apologies in your ear, repeating that he loves you, the same shit over and over. You’re half-worried he’s going to start crying.

Joel steps back, pulling out of you slowly to admire his spend spilling out of you, unable to temper the fascination of marking you as his. This isn’t about that, the rational part of him thinks, this is so much more than that. He reaches out to help you up off the table but you’ve already pushed yourself up and are pulling your pants back up over your hips. Joel does the same, a satisfied grin plastered on his face when you turn around to face him.

“Your guns are in the kitchen,” you say. “In the freezer.”

“Oh- thanks,” he murmurs, feeling the awkwardness of the deliberate topic change.

“Are you heading out now or are you gonna wait ‘till sunrise?”

“Am I-,” a shadow is cast over his face at your wording. “What do you mean am I heading out now, why wouldn’t we walk back together?”

“Because we’re going in opposite directions.”

What the fuck? He can’t help the gamut of emotions that run across his face, exposing his vulnerability to you. Confusion, Anger, Pain. Oh, the pain. You’re rejecting him, again. All the walls that fell down over the last several hours were just built back up - and in fact - built back up while you were fucking him. How did you do that? Why did you do that?

He didn’t think you forgave him but he thought this was going to be a new chapter, that you were letting him back in and giving him another chance. Does he deserve it? Maybe not but he would do anything to get it. Anything. Give you anything, give up anything. But you never even intended to give him a chance.

You-

Did you even come?

He reaches out to you but you pull back, increasing the distance between you.

“Baby-” he whines.

“Stop it,” you say, voice even. “Nothing changed Joel.”

“But… we had sex,” he whimpers, and as it leaves his mouth he hears how pathetic he sounds.

“It’s not a big deal, Joel,” you say, mirroring the words he once said to you when you’d caught him giving himself to any willing mouth on their knees.

God, he underestimated you.

He had no idea how strong you were, how fucking hard you could grab his heart and rip it to shreds.

“Please,” he begs. “Wait… Just- please.”

“Goodbye, Joel,” you say, grabbing your empty pack off the table and brushing past him towards the door.

He grabs your arm as you pass him, placing your palm over his heart. He doesn’t speak but when you look into his eyes you see tears spilling out over his cheeks.

“I gave you everything you ever wanted Joel, how can you ask for more?”

“I need-”

“You need to let me go. In fact, I’ll give you the last piece of the puzzle.” You pull your hand back from him and take a step backwards, towards the door. You speak your name. The one you never gave him. The piece of you that you kept to yourself. A name only spoken by people who loved you, by people who are dead now. The name you wanted him to earn. It hangs between you in the screaming silence. “Now you have everything. You’ve taken every last piece of me. So just fucking let me go.”

You take another tentative step backwards and when he doesn’t move, you turn on your heels and walk out the door, grabbing the rifle off the lawn where you’d dropped it, and jogging off into the coming dawn.

---

The birds start singing before you see the sunrise peeking over the horizon. There are clouds moving in from the west and judging by the smell in the air, you’d guess rain is coming. You can weather the storm, your canteen is full and your pack is heavy. You’d found another summer camp at a different lake further south and were able to scavenge some supplies to help you in your journey.

You briefly thought about Sasha, and how she would be proud of the way you found a tarp and a bungee cord and immediately thought it would make a good raincoat, or the way that you checked the barn to find edible oats when the kitchen pantry had already been picked over. The old you never would have thought of those things.

You’re walking just in the treeline and past the overgrown grass you can see the road to your left, an abandoned vehicle scattered here and there, but otherwise empty. And still. It’s so quiet out here, the air is almost heavy with the silence. You turn down a country road as the clouds move in, attempting to go around a village ahead and avoid the chance of meeting with any more unwanted company. As the sky turns gray and the damp moves in, you spot a covered bridge on the road ahead, not an uncommon sight in these scenic New England towns.

Just as the first fat raindrop hits your head, you duck under the cover of the bridge and take a few steps into the dark. You shrug your pack off your back and begin to fish out the tarp you’d tucked away so you can cover yourself from the incoming downpour. You don’t hear any noise above the splatter of rain on the old bridge’s roof but you feel a sharp pain at the side of your skull and the world goes black.

---

Joel eases you to the ground once you slump backwards into his waiting arms. He sees some dark drops hitting the ground, running off from your temple. He rips off a strip of his shirtsleeve to wrap around your head. He swung too hard. He didn’t want to hurt you but he had to be sure to incapacitate you, he had to be sure you wouldn’t take off on him again. You’ll be alright, he’ll take you to the doc when you get back and get you all patched up. Maybe he’ll even read to you while you heal up. He still has that copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide in his desk drawer. It’ll be just like old times.

He brushes your hair out of your eyes and says your name, kissing your forehead.

“I already told you baby, you can’t run from me.”

🖤

I miss you Iris 💐 Thank you for helping with this series. Thank you SO MUCH to my darling Beef and Bug for helping me to edit this bad boy. Cult Joel (CJ) loves you!!

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