#Ford doesn’t know that though! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebugism · 7 months

Note

Okay maybe Eddie bought a silly couple costumes for himself and r (something cute with “Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” and “I’m not wearing that.”) 🩷

ty for requesting lovie! happy fictober! ily! — eddie buys you a costume you don't feel pretty enough to wear and the gang crashes your cuddling session (hints of smut, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.5k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Your bare bodies stick together beneath a decade-old quilt. Eddie’s nice enough to let you use his lanky bicep as a makeshift pillow while you cuddle on the couch. His other hand hovers over your face, smoothing out the subtle furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s this face for, huh?” he singsongs into the heavy, golden, post-sex silence of the trailer. His smile is swollen and crooked and barely there. It’s a very hushed sunshine compared to your distant pout.

“‘Cause I still feel bad,” you confess, voice so soft it’s nearly inaudible. Your feet knock with Eddie’s when your anxious legs entwine with his. “I made you miss that movie.”

“You didn’t make me miss shit,” Eddie laughs, assertive but not unkind. His warm palm spreads over your cheek. His chocolate eyes dance between both of yours. “I stayed in ‘cause I wanted to, alright? I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You called me a succubus,” you tease with a gentle giggle.

He had, though he doesn’t have much recollection of it. You looked far too pretty underneath him, and he’d been far too close to his orgasm.

His hips rutted sloppily against yours, his rhythm gone totally stupid after feeling you gush around him. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” he babbled into the sticky skin of your neck, voice tighter and higher than usual. “You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, baby? Pussy’s so good… I’d fucking— I’d do anything you wanted me to— shit.”

His legs are still numb from the mind-blowing climax he had a moment later.

Eddie’s chuckle is louder and more boyish than yours. It fills the trailer with sunlight. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause you are. Which means I’d much rather be here with you than at The Hawk with all those other schmucks.”

He kisses you to seal his promise — a chaste peck upon your smiling mouth. It’s beautifully innocuous compared to how good he was making you feel hardly more than five minutes ago.

“I know you don’t like those movies anyway, so…”

“That’s not true,” you argue with a very believable pout.

His gaze goes sympathetic. “Babe… You almost cried when we watched Nightmare on Elm Street the other day.”

“No, I didn’t!” You most certainly did.

“You said you weren’t gonna sleep ever again.”

“I like horror movies ‘cause you like horror movies, dummy.”

The term of endearment makes him grin. He likes it when you get all mean, though you never really mean it. “Is that so?” he lilts with raised brows that disappear behind his fuzzy bangs. The ends of the umber strands are damp with sweat.

You nod lazily against his arm. His fingers are starting to tingle with numbness, but he loves you too much to move.

“Mm-hmm. That’s how relationships work. Compromise. I tolerate horror movies, and you tolerate—”

“Your Harrison Ford obsession?”

You lose your firmness and get all sheepish. “Shut up…”

“I’m pretty sure they were showing Return of the Jedi in the theater over, right after Sleepaway Camp,” Eddie observes suddenly, brushing stray strands of your wild hair from your temple. “We coulda had a double feature tonight, but you wanted to stay in with little old me.”

“That’s ‘cause I love you a whole lot more than some guy I’ve never met.”

Eddie beams at your words. His eyes start to glitter like he’s won something, and his cheeks speckle pink with pride. He’ll never get tired of hearing you say that. He’ll never get tired of you loving him.

“I’m flattered,” he singsongs and means it.

You smile and lean in to kiss his grin. The boy gasps before you can. He springs up from the couch at a moment’s notice, climbing over you with naked limbs. He flashes you his bare ass just before he tugs on the crumbled pair of boxers left forgotten on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, eyes narrowed in curiosity and mouth quirked in amusement. You twist on the couch so you’re propped against the back of it. You clutch the heavy quilt to your naked chest.

“I forgot something,” Eddie mumbles, halfway to himself, then sends you a lighthearted glare over his shoulder. “Don’t move!”

You still, grinning softly at the boy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. You watch him while he rifles through a plastic bag beside the TV stand. “I got us something while I was at the Halloween store with Harrington earlier,” Eddie explains over the noisy crinkling sound.

“Oh, god…” you murmur.

Eddie laughs and looks at you over his shoulder again. “C’mon, babe. Have a little hope, would you?”

He returns to the couch with a smirk and something he hides behind his back. He grins like a kid when he reveals them to you — two packages of Star Wars themed costumes held in both his hands.

Pictured on one is a guy who looks eerily like Han Solo — complete with the vest, blouse, and holster triad. The other is an uncanny Leia Organa in a skin-tight white suit, beige knee-high boots, and a flowing cape.

You blink at both of them, then at Eddie.

“…I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“Our Halloween costumes!” he exclaims with a beam. “See, I’m gonna be Han Solo— ‘cause I’m, you know, charming and sarcastic and handsome.”

“Don’t forget humble,” you joke with a lovesick grin.

“—And you will be my beautiful, hard-headed Leia Organa.”

You glance again at the package in his right hand, at the pretty woman on the cover. You know you won’t look nearly as good in the costume as she does. Your soft smile flickers.

“Eds…” you mutter in a wavering lilt.

A frown forms between his bushy brows, similar to the one you’d been sporting earlier. “What?”

“I told you I wasn’t gonna dress up this year, remember?” you remind him, shifting awkwardly on the couch and clutching the blanket closer to yourself.

“But it’s Halloween, babe! Why wouldn’t you wear a costume?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you stammer out an excuse. “Because— I don’t know— I’m too… indecisive. Like, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“That’s why I picked for you!” Eddie grins, totally oblivious.

You laugh. It’s a bit cynical but not totally unkind. “I am not wearing that.”

He pouts, like a child or a hurt puppy. “But why not?” he wonders with a crestfallen inflection.

Again, you stammer. “Because— I mean— Just look at her, Eds!” you gesture to the package he holds with a significant focus to the girl on the front. “I don’t look like her!”

He grows from sad to confused. His brows pinch as he tilts his head to the side. His wild curls tickle his bare, pale shoulder. “Oh… kay?” he mutters, trying his best to understand you but not getting it completely.

You huff. Your chest stings as you explain it all to him.

“I’m… I’m not gonna look like the girl on the cover. You know that, right? I’m not— I’m not Princess Leia kind beautiful, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs, seemingly agreeing with you and smiling all over again. “You’re a you kind beautiful. That’s what makes you so damn sexy.”

He leans down over you with the intention to kiss you.

Still pouting and inwardly aching, you pull back from him.

“Eddie…” you murmur, still gentle but obviously sadder.

He concedes with a small sigh. The couch cushions dip with his weight when he sits down beside you. He leaves the packages abandoned on the other side of him and gives you his full attention.

“Look… You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, alright? We can stay in for Halloween for all I care. I just… I think it’d be a lot of fun, you know?” the boy rambles with a seriousness that’s typically foreign to him. His palm smooths across your knee over the thick quilt. His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “And I think you’d look… very pretty as my Princess Leia.”

His chocolate eyes twinkle with an undeniable sincerity. It makes your chest feel so warm it burns.

“Yeah?” you mumble, not quite believing him but wanting him to hear him say it anyway.

“Totally,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. He presses a lingering peck to your lips, then melts when he tastes leftover sex upon them.

A switch flips within him then. His belly twists, and his eyelids get all heavy. His smirk is weighed down by lust as he pulls back from you and shrugs. “I think I could show you better than I could tell you, actually…”

Across the living room, the door busts open.

Sunlight explodes throughout the dim trailer, making the two of you squint.

Steve enters first, knocking on the open door to announce his arrival. “Phone’s off the hook,” he observes, pointing to the telephone lying face up on the table beside the front door.

Eddie had two fingers inside you, and the thing just wouldn’t stop ringing. He grumbled in annoyance when he had to part from you to hang it up.

Steve puts the thing back on the hook while Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle walk in behind him.

Mortified, you watch with wide eyes as your uninvited friends file in. Your grip tightens around the blanket. You use one hand to make sure every inch of your naked body is covered with it.

Eddie doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as you are. Instead, he huffs in annoyance and spreads his arms along the back of the couch. They were the ones barging in, after all. If they had a problem with his pale, lanky figure and his thin, plaid boxers, then that was on them.

“Oh. Come in,” he hums, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “Make yourselves at home.”

Robin’s got a thousand-year stare in her eye and a blue, red, and purple mouth. “Can I use your bathroom?” she wavers, voice strained. Her fists are clenched beneath her baggy flannel. They tremble beside her baggier jeans.

“Uh, yeah. Knock yourself out.”

She’s already rushing down the hall before he can get the words out.

The two of you watch her leave and then turn to Steve. He’s an expert in all things Robin Buckley nowadays. He shrugs and tells you, “She had, like, four slurpees while we were waiting on you guys at The Hawk.”

You shift awkwardly like you’re getting scolded. Eddie only laughs.

As all the gang settles around the trailer — Jonathan on the recliner, Nancy on the arm of it, and Steve sitting on the adjacent table — Argyle is the only one without a place to sit. He idles beside the couch, smiling at you with rosy lips and rosier eyes.

“How are you doing today, amigo?” he wonders with a curt nod, as mellow as ever.

You smile up at the boy, not nearly as fazed by the bright style and long raven hair as you used to be. Actually, you’ve grown quite fond of his slurred jokes that don’t really have a punchline because halfway through, he realizes he’s forgotten it entirely.

“Good,” you respond, crossing your arms over the quilt you’ve got bunched at your chest. “You?”

“I’m peachy, brochacho,” he nods back at you. He grins, but the bright expression is weighed down by the weed. The skunky smell entwines with his musky cologne, creating a deep earthy scene that’s much more bearable than the weed alone.

“Not that I’m not thrilled you guys showed up—” Eddie starts with an inflection that would imply otherwise, wide eyes flitting around the room. “—But what the hell are you doing here?”

“You’d know if you answered the phone,” Steve retorts with a scrunched nose, flipping through a random car magazine. The Beemer on the front matches the sunshine yellow of his sweatshirt.

“Well, I was a little busy, Harrington—”

You nudge Eddie before he can finish the stupid joke. Everyone could already hear it anyhow — “I was a little busy, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

He shoots you an innocently confused look. You give him a half-hearted glare in return.

“You guys flaked on movie night, so we brought the movies to you,” Nancy singsongs with a sweet, pink smile.

Jonathan unrolls the folded-up paper bag between his feet. The flimsy cardboard crackles loudly as he rifles through it. He pulls out a number of unblanketed VHS tapes with handwritten stickers glued to the front of them.

“Uh… We got Sleepaway Camp, obviously,” the Byers boy mutters in his usual Byers way. He waves the tape in his hand and sits it off to the side. He reaches into the bag and grabs two more. “Twilight Zone and, uh, Return of the Jedi.”

Eddie is as grateful as he is confused. Movie night wasn’t totally gone, and both of your movies had been seemingly carrier-pigeoned to his trailer, but neither should be out on VHS yet. “How…?” the boy trails off with pinched-together brows.

Argyle answers. “Let’s just say I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy…” he smirks, then swirls his features in puzzlement. It looks like he’s trying to do math in his head. “…Who knows a guy.”

“I can pop some popcorn if you guys wanna, you know, make yourselves decent,” Steve teases with a feigned maliciousness as he hops off the square table. The old thing squeaks under his weight.

Eddie’s retort doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Right. My bad, Stevie. It’s not like you totally barged in on us or anything.”

You shake your head at their bickering, though you’re still smiling quietly to yourself. Eddie shields you while you rise from the couch. You wear the heavy quilt like a dress as you shuffle down the hallway to his bedroom. The thing trails behind you as you go.

“Sorry about them, sweetheart,” Eddie apologizes as soon as the door clicks closed.

He’d wanted to say something earlier, but kept his mouth shut instead of making it a bigger deal. He knew you were bound to be embarrassed — because you almost always tend to be, anyway. He didn’t want to draw attention to the situation, or least of all to you, and make it that much worse.

“’S okay,” you shrug and drop the blanket on the carpet.

Eddie tries not to go all teenage boy at the sight of your naked body, but he nearly loses his mind when you bend over to pick up one of his t-shirts from the floor.

“We did sorta flake on them,” you reason as you tug the cotton over your head. The baggy fabric falls over you like rain.

Eddie shakes his head, mostly at himself. He couldn’t love you more if he tried.

“Only you would blame yourself when those assholes walked in on us,” he laughs, walking the short distance to you and wrapping you in his arms from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your neck. You smell like flowers, sex, and his cologne.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, baby. No wonder those schmucks won’t leave us alone.”

Robin’s voice seemingly comes from within the walls — ‘cause the bathroom is only one room over, and the walls are especially thin. “Rude!” she grouses, voice muffled. “I mean, it’s true, but still.”

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teatreeoilll · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 (𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . •

w/c - 1.2k content - fem!reader, hurt/comfort??, ain't nobody really gonna divorce this man i mean, please

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° .•

For the past two months, once every two weeks on Thursday afternoons, Higuruma Hiromi finds himself on a leather chair in the stifling offices of Hayashi Divorce Law. Hayashi himself is a walrus-looking man with nicotine-stained fingers and an expensive wristwatch, who leans back in his chair across the desk from Hiromi, unbuttons the top button of his Italian blazer, and eyes him with a grin that says “I’ll clean you out before you can finish saying divorce.”

The worst of it comes when you enter the room. You sit down by Hayashi, getting trapped by the scent of the walrus’s sour cologne and stacks of papers on the desk, without so much as a glance in Hiromi’s direction.

Hiromi’s throat dries up the more he sits and nods along to Hayashi’s words. He doesn’t remember much about equitable distribution from law school and he doesn’t care to - the only thing he does is tug on the wrinkled fabric of his suit and mutter variations of “Alright” and “You can have it”.

After the first meeting was over, and you left the room leaving nothing but a whiff of perfume that soon dissipated into nothing, Hayashi turned to him and furrowed his bushy brows “Didn’t your ex-wife say you’re a lawyer, Mr. Higuruma?”

To which Hiromi replied “My wife,” while clinging to the last unsigned papers that would make this statement false.

By the fourth meeting, he’s a wreck. While he sits and nods along, Hiromi notices you’re looking at him with a hint of concern in your eyes. As you open your mouth his mind fills with hope. He’d drop to his knees without a second thought for a “It’s a mistake” or just a simple “let's go home” - even though it’s your home now since he’d forfeited it a month ago.

But when you finally open your mouth, after two months of silence, the only words he hears are “What about the car?”

Hiromi looks up at you. The car. A navy blue Ford Sedan with it’s best years behind it much like himself. A Ford Sedan which only four years prior got its old wheels stuck in the wet sand of a Kanazawa beach, causing the both of you to stay the night in a nearby motel.

He remembered the motel room's crumbling ceiling and the scale models of ships that lined the shelves - below them a bed with azure sheets - which you collapsed on with a grumble, cursing out both the damn Sedan and its fucking wheels. All he could think of was how beautiful you looked with that shade of azure surrounding your skin - and by morning you’d called out his name so many times he forgot it had a meaning outside of your lips.

He’s silent for a long time. So long your confidence wavers a bit, “We can sell it,” you say, “take half of the money each.”

Hiromi awakes from his mind trip to Kanazawa and reality knocks the wind out of his lungs. “You can have it.”

“I mean it,” you shoot a look at Hayashi who looks displeased with the sudden display of kindness, “we can sell it and split the money.”

“You can have it.” Higuruma says, and Hayashi grins.

It’s already dark by the time Hiromi steps out in the hall. It takes him a few steps towards the elevator and a squint of his tired eyes to see you standing by it. It’s alright - he’ll just take the stairs.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him when he passes behind you. You press on the elevator button again. It’s been stuck on the 17th floor for a while now.

“It’s alright.” He assures, continuing his path to the stairwell.

“No. It’s not alright. Nothing’s been alright for a year now. Now wait here for the goddamn elevator.”

By the tone of your voice he knows he hasn’t got a choice. He takes his place next to you, shifting his gaze between the silver elevator doors, and the little screen that keeps showing “17” without any sign of movement.

A few minutes go by and there’s still no sign of the elevator. Your leg bounces on the marble floor and your lips purse before you let out a silent “What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh?” Hiromi blinks. The elevator doors ding open. The man and a woman inside move to make room for you, but you motion to them to go down, mouthing ‘we’ll take the next one’. The elevator closes.

“I said ‘what’s wrong with you.’” You turn to him. “I’m robbing you blind and you don’t say anything. So what the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You can have anything you want.” He says, noticing you haven’t pressed the button to call the elevator again.

“That’s not what I asked -”

“You can have anything you want,” He repeats. “Just don’t make me come and listen to which bits of our life you’d like to sell and which to split. Take what you like, really - Whatever’s left will remind me of you anyway and I don’t think I’ll be able to stand looking at it without -” Going insane, he wants to say, but when he sneaks a look at your face he swallows the words. The crease he got used to seeing between your eyebrows vanishes.

“I’m not making you come, you know.” You say, “If you signed it all away after the first meeting we wouldn’t have to go through this.”

He can’t make himself tear his gaze off of your face, “I know.” His fingers press down on the fabric of his suit, “But if I did that I wouldn’t have a reason to see you again.”

“Don’t say things like that.” You press the elevator button again. This time, it arrives in a flash. You step inside, and Hiromi follows. The doors slip shut.

“Then don’t divorce me.”

The floor numbers change, a rapid countdown - 12 - 11 - 10. Hiromi’s mind races. He really pushed it this time - and even though he doesn’t have anything left to lose - his heart plummets together with the elevator.

“Fine.”

“Huh?” Hiromi’s eyes stick to the numbers still, 10 - 9 - 8. He’s not sure if it’s an auditory hallucination that’s speaking.

“I said ‘fine.’”

His hand finds the emergency stop button and smashes it in. The elevator rattles before it halts.

“Did you say -”

“I won’t repeat it again.”

And you really don’t need to. A moment later you’re pressed between his warm body and the cool metal lining the elevator car. His kiss is a desperate one - open-mouthed, all teeth and tongue - with his hands running under your blouse to relish in the warmth of your skin. You tangle one hand in his hair while the other’s clinging to a fistful of his suit jacket.

Hiromi detaches from your mouth, only for a second - which is enough for you to catch a glimpse of his flushed face - before leaving a trail of gentle kisses down your neck. Unlike his lips, his hands aren’t gentle in the slightest, they hold a tight grip on your waist under your blouse - as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear the moment he releases it.

Hayashi stands by the elevator, looking at the screen that shows “7” without any sign of movement. His face grows tomato red. Two interns stand at the edge of the hall, looking at him.

“What’s he so pissed about it?” One asks.

“It’s the elevator.” The other motions to the number on the tiny screen, “If it’s stuck too long on one floor it means a couple’s doing it inside. If they’re doing it inside they’re not divorcing - and if they’re not divorcing Hayashi’s not getting paid.”

#higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi x y/n #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi x you #higuruma x you #higuruma x y/n #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #hiromi x you #hiromi x y/n #jjk hiromi x reader #jjk higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x y/n

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momotonescreaming · 4 months

Text

Teenage Dream - Part 5

AKA - the Jeff and Eddie have crushes on jocks series Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

“Jeff!” Eddie shouted, voice raised over the roar of the cars entering the student car park. Jeff whipped his head to look over at his friend, waving his arm from the other side of the car park, hanging out of the side of the van. “Dude!”

Vinnie gave him a look, raising a judgemental eyebrow in such a way that only middle schoolers could, as Eddie hollered for his attention. He was in no position to judge, Jeff’s met his friends.

Jeff sneered back, gently shoving at his brother’s shoulder, pushing him in the general direction of the middle school. “Move it, squirt, or you’ll be late.”

“As if,” Vinnie huffed, rolling his eyes, but walking off anyway. Brothers.

By the time Vinnie had left, Eddie was across the car park, leaning on the roof of Jeff’s old Ford. Keys in his hand, jingling against his rings. “He giving you shit?”

“When is he not?” Jeff replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he locked his car. Falling into step with Eddie, the pair walking in tandem towards the doors to Hawkins High. He found himself scanning the crowds, looking for Frank, or Gareth, or any of the Hellfire freshies. He found himself scanning for strawberry blonde hair, for blue eyes, for the familiar green of the cheerleader uniforms.

“He giving you shit about Chrissy,” Eddie sing songs, biting his lip and smiling as he nudges his shoulder against Jeff’s. He’s not shouting it from the rooftops, which is nice, but man, Eddie could stand to be a lot quieter. If anyone heard, Jeff was going to give Eddie a wedgie.

“Oh shut up,” Jeff replies, although he laughs as he shoves at Eddie back. “He doesn’t know and he’s not gonna.”

“Boo.” Eddie says, fake pouting. “That’s no fun.”

“You’re just saying that because you have no siblings,” Jeff replies, pushing open the doors and heading into the halls of Hawkins High. “Would you want someone in your house constantly giving you shit? I’m not giving them both any ammunition to be more annoying than they already are.”

“I mean,” Eddie starts, dragging out the word. “I have Wayne.”

“You told Uncle Wayne?” Jeff asks, brow furrowed as they manoeuvre through the halls to Eddie’s locker. He knew Eddie was out to Wayne — that it was part of the reason he was staying with Wayne and not his father (before he got shipped off to prison. But he didn’t think Eddie would openly admit his crush on Harrington to him like that. It would open a whole can of worms. Imply that there was something more. Something serious. If he was telling Wayne about it. It’s basically one step removed from meeting the parents. “About you and you-know-who?”

“Well no,” Eddie admits with a tilt of his head, swerving out of the way of a gaggle of sophomores, taking up the entire width of the hall. “But the old man can read me like a book. He knows things, I’m sure of it.”

Jeff snorts, leaning against the lockers as they stop at Eddie’s. Watching as he unlocks it, and sifts through the piles of shit he’s got in there. “You always say that about him, though. What makes this different?”

“He’s giving me looks, you know?” Eddie says into his locker, pulling out a ragged notebook and a stray textbook, before turning back to Jeff. “He’s figuring things out and he's going to be insufferable about it.”

Jeff snorts as Eddie shuts his locker, books in hand, as they head towards Jeff’s. They’ve still got time for once, normally Jeff heads to his locker alone, and Eddie arrives in a flurry later — speeding into the parking lot with a screech of his tyres. “Because your uncle has nothing better to do than speculate about your secret love life?”

“Exactly,” Eddie jokes, grinning back at Jeff. “But enough about me. Do you think you’ll meet her in your free period again?”

And thank god Eddie didn’t say her name, not here, surrounded by the teenage sharks of Hawkins. Any glimpse of vulnerability, something to exploit, the bottom feeders getting too big for their station — it was brutal.

“I’m not that lucky,” Jeff laughs, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow.

“Wanna bet?” Eddie jokes, nudging Jeff’s side with his elbow. He’s biting his tongue to hold back his laughter.

“One’s enough thanks,” He replies. “And I am winning that one, by the way.”

“Oh eat shit Jeff,” Eddie laughs, before sobering dramatically, whirling around to face him. Continuing to walk down the hall at an angle, not looking where he’s going, Eddie continues. “But anyway, you can tell me how you wrong you are about you-know-who at band practice tonight.”

Jeff just rolls his eyes again, smiling, and heads to class.

—

There’s a buzzing, an itch, an anticipation, the second the bell rings and it’s Jeff’s free period. It bubbles up underneath his skin, threatening to break through, and nothing will quell it. Nothing except seeing her, or perhaps the confirmed absence of her presence.

He packs up his things, leaves the classroom, and heads towards the library. He has all his things — he can’t procrastinate by getting something from his locker. Plus, someone will absolutely try and steal his table if he does.

That’s his table, dammit.

So Jeff sighs — quietly, under his breath — and weaves through the halls to the library, hitching his bag further onto his shoulder. Eyes down, walking fast, avoiding the eye of any jock or jerk who might be lingering in the halls. It’s easier, when Hellfire is all together, a united force. It’s also easier with Eddie, acting larger than life, scary and dramatic — to scare the jocks away. Also helps that he’s the high school’s only dealer. If he cuts them off — and he will — then they’re fucked.

So he makes it to the library without incident — nodding a silent greeting to the librarian — before he weaves through the stacks to the shelf he needs. There’s a book he needs to check through for his English essay, and he’s reached the point where he’s stuck without it.

Bag hanging off one shoulder, weighing him down, making him feel more off kilter than normal — Jeff tilts his head as he reads through the spines of the books. Gently tabbing through them, pushing them aside with his fingers, trying desperately to ignore the swooping of his stomach. His wandering mind.

He’s not alone in the library, there are others wandering the shelves, claiming the tables, and Jeff absently watches them out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t see any strawberry blonde hair, no cheerleader uniform, so he averts his gaze back to the stacks. Swallows his tongue.

Sighing — he tries to be quiet about it, so people don’t glare at him, so the librarian doesn’t shush him — and eventually finds his book. Slides it out of the shelf, tucks it under one arms, and weaves his way back to his table. Off to the side, near the back of the library, nice and quiet. Undisturbed, not like the tables in the centre, right by the librarians desk. There’s always chatter, always people, always large study groups. It was peaceful at his table, no one else usually came by, but Jeff couldn’t help but wish for company this time.

And it was like he had jinxed it.

Rounding the corner, Jeff looks over to find someone sitting at his table. Jolting in place, eyes wide, he finds a pair of clear blue eyes looking at his.

Chrissy shrugs, almost shrinking into herself as she gives him a little wave. Smiling shyly, cheeks flushing, as she looks at him from over the table. Sat in her seat from last time, leaving Jeff’s usual seat free, her books and papers spread out on her half of the table. Hair curled out of her face, pinned back with pale green pins. Her eyeshadow matches, because of course it does. It’s cute. She’s cute, as usual.

“Funny seeing you here,” Jeff jokes, smiling shyly back at Chrissy, heading closer so he can take his usual seat. Puts his book on the table, places his bag down at his feet, and slides into the chair.

“Hey Jeff,” She says, voice light, almost a giggle as she watches him from over the table. He likes the way his name sounds in her mouth, the way her tongue forms around it, shaping the sounds. Lips curling around the letters, pink and pert, and shining with gloss. “Hope it’s okay I’m at your table. I was a little worried you weren’t gonna show up in time and wanted to save it for you.”

“That’s okay,” Jeff replies, smiling, feeling his heart flutter in his chest and butterflies swoop in his stomach. Was Chrissy waiting for him? Did she sit at his table so she could see him? Was he someone she wanted to take the time to see? He felt a little giddy, lost in the feeling, the delusion of it. The fantasy of being someone Chrissy wanted to see. “Thanks for saving it for me.”

“It was no worries,” Chrissy giggles, and he tries not to look at the subtle flush across her cheeks. “As long as you don’t mind a little company?”

“’Course not,” Jeff replies, trying to smother his own smile, not look too obvious. “It’s nice to have you.”

He watches as she bites her bottom lip, looks down at her notes, and then back up at Jeff, looking through her lashes. Coy, almost shy, tentative. Looks away himself, dragging his gaze away from hers, reaching down to get the rest of his things out of his bag. His notebook and pens, a worn copy of the book they’re supposed to be writing an essay on, dog-eared and sun-faded. Places it on the table next to the book from the stacks — from the same author, so he can do some fancy compare and contrasting that he knows the teacher is a sucker for.

Opens his notebook, finds his essay draft, and tries not to let his mind wander. To let his gaze find its way back to her like a magnet, pulled together inevitably. To find himself doodling love hearts on the page. So he finds his place, and tries to write. To let the ideas flow through him, seeping into the page along with the ink of his pen.

He lets the ticking of the clock fade into the background, with the hum of students going out their business, and the scratch of his pen on the page. The sound of Chrissy’s pen on the page. Actually gets some writing done, makes a solid dent in his English essay.

And so he lets himself drift for a second, sneak a glance at Chrissy — only to find her looking back. She curls into herself — shy, embarrassed, giggling — with a hand over her mouth to smother the sound. But she can’t stop looking at him. And he can’t stop looking at her back. Maybe he’s imagining it, but it feels like there’s something there. And if that something is only friendship, a fleeting crush — he’ll take it. He won’t push her for more than she’s willing to give. He’s lucky to get this much. Her sitting at his table, remembering his name, waiting for him.

He ducks his head, huffs out a laugh that’s more an exhale of air than anything else, and looks back up at Chrissy. She’s still looking at him.

“Sorry,” she says through her hand. “I’m staring like a total weirdo.”

“I like weird,” Jeff says, feeling like he’s melting and sounding entirely too sincere about it. “If you couldn’t tell.”

“Well in that case, thanks.” She laughs, moving her hand away so he can see how much she’s smiling. She looks down and bites her lips, pausing, considering — before looking back up at him. Locking eyes.

“We share all the same free period’s right?” Chrissy continues. “Would you want to meet here tomorrow, like, officially. Be study buddies.”

Oh fuck, Jeff thinks. She’s so cute. She wants to meet him again. Eddie is going to be absolutely insufferable about this. Because of course he is. Jeff’s glad he didn’t take that bet.

Something swells in his chest, expanding his lungs, covering his insides with something as sweet and sticky as honey. He smiles at her, letting that sweetness seep out of him. “I’d like that.”

Tag List: @goosesister @scarlet-malfoy @mavernanche @manda-panda-monium @yoriposts @grtwdsmwhr @panicatthediaz @m-owo-n @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaosgremlinmunson @thespaceantwhowrites @perseus-notjackson @eyesofshinigami @hotluncheddie @novacorpsrecruit @nburkhardt @pansexuality-activated @silentiumdelirium @steaddie-on @steddie-as-they-go @redfreckledwolf @lavender248 @actualwakingnightmare

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Jeff Stranger Things #Chrissy Cunningham #Jeff/Chrissy #Jeffingham #My Writing #Teenage Dream

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Daddy Lessons 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Rafe Cameron

Summary: You agree to tutor for the Cameron's, but find your student less than cooperative.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

There aren’t many summer jobs in Hammer Ford, but you promised your parents you would find something. Without any response from the grocery store, cafe, or library, your search is hopeless. That’s until you ran into Rose Cameron.

“Weren’t you valedictorian?” She asked.

The scene plays over in your head as you step off your bike to walk it up the hill. What luck that she found you picking out flowers with your mother. Almost as if she’d been looking for you.

“Uh, yeah, last year,” you smiled.

It’s been a year since high school ended, since then you’d spent two semesters outside the hamlet. In the city, people don’t just come up to you for no reason, and rarely a good one. Nor do they know you by name. Your home town seems more quaint the longer you’re away from campus.

“Great, I need a tutor,” she tutted, “how’s fifty an hour?”

You shake your head as you straddle your bike again. It’s an offer you really can’t pass up, even if the Camerons weren’t the most friendly family in Hammer Ford. It doesn’t matter as long as you can tell your parents you have a job.

You pedal east towards the house on the hill. You’ve never been up there. Not even in high school when everyone was going on about the ragers at the Cameron ranch. It was never really your scene. That and you weren’t invited.

You slow as you approach the low fence, breathless as you stop by the closed gate. Do you let yourself in? There’s a gold bell mounted on the post. You ring it and it sends a thunderous toll through the air.

You wait, looking around, though you don’t know if anyone’s coming. Someone appears across the field. You recognise Ward Cameron as he nears, waving a gloved hand as he does.

“Hi, Mr. Cameron, um…” you hold onto your handlebars and dismount, “Rose, uh, asked me to drop by.”

“Sure thing,” he unhooks the inside of the gate, “I was just brushing Juliet.”

“Oh, okay,” you smile.

“You can work in the dining room if that works, or the back porch? It’s pretty nice out,” he lets you through the gate and secures it before he points you towards the house. “Really glad you could come out. We went to an agency in the city but they wanted us to go to them.”

“Um, yeah, sure, no problem,” you peer over at a foal and its mother in a pen, “nice place.”

“You think so? Does it look different in the day?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I know about the parties,” he chortles, “it’s fine.”

“Well, I never…” you rub the back of your neck, “anyway, I guess we can study where Sarah wants.”

“Sarah?”

“Oh, erm, Wheezie?” You wonder.

“Did Rose not… explain?”

“I… assumed, well, she just said you needed a tutor so I thought…” You blink and chew your lip, “Rafe?”

He laughs again, “the one and only. We’re tryna get him back in good graces. He has a conditional offer in the city but he has to take an entrance exam.”

“Right,” you try not to show your discomfort.

Rafe is a year older than you. Even so, he never failed to knock your books out of your hands or laugh in your direction. When he graduated, the student populace sighed in relief but he only made it through one semester in college before he flunked out.

“He’s not the kind for ranch work,” Ward says as he gestures you up the front steps, “frankly, I don’t know what he’s cut out for but a degree will at least give him some prospects.”

“Mhmm,” you drone nervously. If Rose had said so, you may not have been so eager. You just assumed it would be one of the two Wards still enrolled in school.

“He should be around–” he pulls open the front door and lets you in first.

You step aside to slip your shoes off as he hollers for Rafe. You glance out the screen door and wonder if you can come up with a good excuse. Your mind is racing but you come up with nothing.

“What?” Rafe snarls as he traipses in through a broad archway.

“Tutor’s here,” Ward says.

“Tutor?” Rafe mutters.

“I told you,” he chides, “go get your books.”

“Dad, I told you, I’ll write the damn test–”

“And you’ll pass,” Ward insists, “books. Now.”

Rafe huffs and stomps upstairs. You turn around to watch him go. Ward shakes his head and beckons you onwards. You marvel at the neat interior. It’s all a lot more modern than the rest of Hammer Ford. A rustic contemporary mix of sleek white and faded pine.

“Feel free to help yourself to some water, or there’s a Keurig,” Ward offers, “I’d get you some myself but…” he holds up his gloved hands, “I doubt you like the taste of horse hair.”

You smile and nod as you slip your bag off your shoulder.

“Thanks, uh, I’m good,” you say.

“Don’t let him get to you. I know how he can be. He gives you any trouble, I’ll deal with him.”

“Sure, uh, no, shouldn’t be an issue,” you shrug, though you sound less than convincing.

“I’ll be around,” he says and taps the door frame as he leaves.

You sit as he goes and you open your laptop on the table. Your parents bought the used model for your first year of college. It’s a bit slow but it works. You’ll just need the wifi.

A sudden slam makes you yipe and jolts the table. You look up as Rafe stands across from you, scowling. Behind your laptop, there’s several textbooks and a notebook with curling pages. You try to smile but your lips only tremble.

“Oh, hey,” you eke out, “uh, so… we can start on comprehensive literature–”

“Fuck off, dork,” he drops into the chair.

“Well I… your dad–”

“My dad wants me to sit here and waste his money, sure thing,” he crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, “but i’m not takin’ no lessons from you.”

“Right, well, I…” you don’t know what to say. “Can I have the wifi at least?”

He doesn’t acknowledge your question as he pulls out his phone. You think he’s looking it up but he just sits and scrolls, his floppy hair drooping down his forehead. You fidget and flutter your fingers listlessly over the keyboard.

You should just go but you need the money. You close the laptop and reach for one of the textbooks. You open it and smooth the pages with your hand.

“Right, rules of grammar,” you begin, “nouns, pronouns, verbs–”

“Fucking dweeb,” he drops his phone and stands up, “for someone so smart, you sure are fucking dumb.”

“Identifying sentences…” you focus on the page as he paces.

“You think you’re so fucking clever,” he startles you as he pulls out the chair next to you, sitting in it as his elbow hits the table.

“Read the following and underline–” you angle the book towards him, silence by a jarring squeeze on your throat.

You recoil as his hand closes on the front of your neck and you push yourself back in the chair. You grab his wrist and choke, wiggling in your seat. What is he doing?

“What–”

“Shhhhh,” he puts his finger to his lips then presses it to yours, “you talk too much.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, pulling helplessly on his arm. He smirks as he leans forward, pulling you towards him.

“You think you’re better than me?” He snarls, “let’s see about that.”

#rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drabble #au #series #daddy lessons #backwoods au #obx #the outer banks

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misathinks · 2 months

Text

this little trend is so cute omg

but I don’t have a bf…or a husband… so,

things my situationship (?) does that are very Porter coded ♡

obsessed with cars and when I told him I just wanted a regular ford pickup he called me boring and rolled his eyes

“oh btw I won’t be in class today” “what? you’re leaving me? why?” “you’re acting a lot like you’d miss me sir!!” “and what if I did?”

proceeded to FaceTime me while he was sitting in said class

called me emo after I told him my quince dress was black. Mind you I’ve never seen him in anything else BUT black.

threw me over his shoulder and spun me around after I told him I’d be too heavy

Bullied me for my braids the whole day, then, “maybe I should put a hat on.” “Why?” “dunno.” “Do you actually think they look bad?? Never listen to me again”

puts his headphones on me at random times to show off his “hardcore” music taste (rap), but he was in Faye Webster’s top listeners for 2023… also thinks I don’t know this

“hey I love my little pony!!” “honestly??” “yeah, Twilight Sparkle is goated”

remembers almost every episode and its plot, including Equestria Girls

swears up and down he’s a “lover” but has played multiple girls in the past

Interestingly enough though hasn’t talked to anybody but me since we met. Very surprising

“I don’t see the issue you have with me tbh” “get off my cellphone please.” “lemme hit? :/”

gets mad at me if I open doors for him. “I am not going through there.” “you’re beyond difficult.” And then opens the door for me instead

acts nonchalant and tough with his friends and other ppl and then sweet to me

would be endearing if he didn’t join them making fun of me sometimes

says he doesn’t mean it afterwards

“I told you to never call me again. ” “…if I get you Wendy’s will you forgive me?” “yes actually!”

had horrible cramps once and he kept his hand on my stomach for an hour while working because I told him it helped

notices little things like my texting habits and the tone of my voice…He knows what he’s doing. Bastard.

“*talking about my research project*” “you like… smile with your eyes.” “I do?” “yeah.” “oh.” “sorry, I just like to look at you. Keep going.”

please help me.

tbh tho he could be Vincent if he tried.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted porter #I don’t know why I still talk to him #he has big eyes that’s why. damn #dw I’m self aware ik hes toxic #hopefully he comes to his senses bc we could be married with two kids by now 😞#Also if this isn’t porter-esque.. bare w me #haven’t even listened to the summit audio

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justagalwhowrites · 4 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 26: Carved

You and Joel search for Savvy outside of Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst because... duh when do I not serve everything with a side of angst. I wish I could tell you why. Canon typical violence. Past suicide attempt. Suicidal ideation. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 10.7k (I'M SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE EITHER OK)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It had gone unsaid for at least a day now.

Joel had been outside of Jackson with you for nine days and there was no sign of Savvy and it was time to turn back. He’d let you lead the way, picking directions, deciding when to stop for the day (within reason, he’d had to suggest breaks and point out the conditions of the horses at least once a day.) But there was nothing that pointed to her.

Your fourth day out, the two of you tracked a small group but it was about 10 people - three families with four kids between them - traveling to Seattle. When you found them, they were low on food so the two of you handed over the bulk of your rations. Joel told them about Jackson while you showed the younger kids the horses, keeping the occupied with a soft smile on your face as you patiently taught them how to pet Renaissance, how they had to hold their palms flat when offering her food. Joel wondered, not for the first time, how he’d never realized that you were a mother. It was so clearly built into you now that he knew to look for it. The families said they were heading for the coast and Joel hoped they found their way.

Day seven led you both to an abandoned camp that had been occupied by some kind of small party but nothing to indicate if it was raiders or someone else, though there was at least one horse. The two of you tracked that group for the last two days but they went into a stream they didn’t immediately ford and you lost the trail entirely.

“Fuck!” You dismounted into the water after you’d followed along the stream for several miles and seen no sign of the group on the shore. You kicked the water and screamed - the sound shrill and almost feral, more animal than human - before you fell to your knees. You collapsed back onto your heels as the stream flowed around your legs. You didn’t seem to notice.

Joel got down from his horse, too, gathering the reins of both animals and tying them to a nearby tree before meeting you in the water. He slowly lowered himself down on one knee, careful to leave some space between the two of you. Your hands were limp atop your thighs, palms facing to the sky, head bowed, prostrate to whatever higher power would bring your daughter back.

“Bambi,” he said softly. You didn’t even lift your head. This loss hit hard, he knew. The sign of a horse had perked you up. You had sat up straighter in your saddle, your eyes had more life in them. Your body had carried the signs of hope and those signs were gone now. “It doesn’t mean anything. It could have been anyone, just because…”

“What if she’s gone, Joel?” You asked, your voice cracked and broken. “What if it wasn’t a lie, what if…”

“Don’t know that,” he cut you off.

You’d told him what Mitchum had said to you, what he’d shown you as proof that your child was gone. The thought of it had nearly made him vomit, all but choking down bile as you spoke.

It had broken you for a while. More than a year, from the sounds of it. But, one day, you decided you couldn’t know what had happened to her, not really. Mitchum hadn’t given you any actual proof. He’d told you something he knew would torture any parent, gave you the piece of a beloved animal as a trophy. But the horse had been the older one, the smaller one. The one that could have been caught while Savvy slipped away on the younger, larger animal. So you made yourself move again, made yourself start preparing for a life beyond the place they kept you chained. You made sure you were ready to search when the time came.

Joel wasn’t sure if it was delusional or if it was discerning, if your mind was just desperate to find a reason to keep living or if you were seeing the holes in the logic of the cruelty forced on you.

“You can’t know,” he said. “Not for sure. Not unless we find her.”

“What if she died afraid and alone?” You asked, like you didn’t even hear him. But you lifted your head at least, your eyes finding his. “What if she was cold or hurting? She gets cold so easy, she always wears socks, even in summer… I could have held her, at least, I could have made it easier…”

Joel tried not to think about Sarah. About holding her, telling her that everything was going to be OK. About how his last words to her had been a lie. About how he wasn’t sure the last time he’d told her that he loved her. About how he wasn’t sure if telling her that as she bled out in his arms would have made it better or worse.

“You don’t know,” he said instead. “You taught her everything you knew, right? Means she’s smart, she’s resourceful. She’s out there, Baby, she is.”

You just looked at him, your eyes flat and dead and he wondered, for a moment, if that’s what Tommy saw looking back at him in the years before they made it to Boston.

“C’mon,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t shrink away from him. “Let’s get out of the water, it’ll be dark real soon, anyway. We can find a place to camp here, get you dried off.”

You didn’t say anything, you just hung your head, looking down at your hands again.

“Bambi,” he said after a minute. “Can’t help her by stayin’ here. We gotta keep you going and that means getting out of this cold water, now let’s go. Not going to do her any good if you get sick out here, let’s go.”

You nodded a little at that and Joel got up himself before helping you to your feet. He guided you to the horses and gave you Renaissance’s reins before leading you to a place far enough away from the stream that anyone following it wouldn’t see you but close enough that it would be easy enough to refill canteens.

He set up camp and got out dry clothes from your pack.

“Bambi,” he said gently. You at least looked at him, even though your eyes still looked dead. “Should get changed out of those wet clothes. I’m going to go get us somethin’ to eat real quick, you get dry. OK?”

You took the pants and socks from Joel but just stared at them for a moment.

“Have to change, OK?” He said, watching you. “Can’t help her if you’re sick or hurt. Not good to sit in wet clothes for too long, gotta change.”

You nodded then and he slung his rifle over his arm.

“Gonna be alright for a bit?” He asked. You nodded. “Gonna come back to you in one piece, right?”

You nodded again, though Joel still felt uneasy.

“Back soon,” he said.

He picked his way carefully through the forest, back toward the stream where there’d been plenty of signs of animal life. Since the two of you had given most of your rations to the travelers, he’d hunted almost daily. It reminded him of crossing the country with Ellie and, under other circumstances, he’d probably enjoy being out here like this with you.

In another reality, he’d bring his guitar. After the two of you hunted together, he’d play and you’d sing and then he’d hand the instrument to you and he’d sing while you played and you’d sit so that your body was against his, where he could feel the heat of you beside him. When the fire died, you’d climb in the same sleeping bag and he’d hold you close and tight and kiss you all soft and needy. You’d moan against his mouth and he’d slip inside you as though he belonged there, at home between your thighs and burrowed against your chest.

Instead he was alone and worried about leaving you unattended.

He remembered what he’d been like after Sarah died.

It wasn’t a pleasant memory. It was hard to recall the exact feeling in those early days of loss. When he focused on it, tried to actually get an idea of that hell, he was often reminded of the idea that mothers forget the pain of labor when it’s done. How the agony fades so they can face the idea of giving birth again. He wondered if that’s what his mind had done, too. If his head made that time hazy and lost so he could keep on living because surviving that again would be impossible. He’d never risk it.

He hadn’t wanted to survive it then. He’d tried not to, lasting not even a day without his daughter’s kind smile or keen gaze or smart mouth before he pressed a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

For a very long time, he didn’t know why he flinched. For a very long time, he wished it had worked. And something told him that he had the same look in his eyes then that you had now.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he got you back to Jackson. The two of you needed to turn back, you couldn’t just stay out here forever. Maria said he could have two weeks and he figured it would be OK if he pushed that by a bit but he couldn’t disappear with you for the time it took to comb every square mile of the wilderness.

What if you gave up like him? You were so much stronger than him. You wouldn’t flinch away from it, he knew that. What if you surrendered to it and he wasn’t there to save you? What if you just didn’t show up at the stables one morning and he went to find you and instead found your body, cold and empty and alone? Just what was left of you, surrounded by your music collection and the guitar he made you and the books you scrawled notes in, all these signs pointing to your life that would be gone. His might be gone, then, too.

He settled in what he thought was a good spot, signs of rabbits plentiful. Joel set up behind a fallen log, setting up the gun, and waited. It didn’t take long. A bush rustled nearby and he turned, quickly, before going still, gun set and ready. A minute passed, then two. Finally, a rabbit emerged, taking a cautious hop into the open. He fired and it fell. He slung the gun on his back and picked the animal up - carefully, deliberately - its hind legs still warm, sinews pliable.

He turned to start back to camp when he froze. Ahead of him was a deer, graceful and fragile, eyes wide and soft and watching him like he was watching her. Something in a nearby tree rustled and she startled for a second, wild and cautious, but stilled before looking back at Joel. At her feet was a tiny fawn, its coat speckled and its legs spindly and splayed. The mother watched him closely, like she was trying to figure out if this two-legged creature in her forest was a threat. He wondered if she’d ever seen a person before.

“It’s OK mama,” he said softly after a moment. “Not gonna hurt you or your baby. You’re OK.”

She watched him for another moment, not jumping when he moved - slowly - to stand up straight. It was like part of her could feel that he was safe, that she didn’t need to be so on guard with him. Eventually, she hung her head low, nudging her baby forward. Joel watched them until they were swallowed by the forest, mother leading her child through the wilderness.

***

Life in the forest around you felt loud.

You couldn’t make much out, all of it melding together into a drone that you could feel in your ears. There were crickets and birds and frogs and the rustle of leaves and it meant you couldn’t hear the blood in your ears anymore. Or maybe you could and the wilderness had swallowed you up, too.

That seemed like the best option. To disappear into the earth with the untamed things. Maybe it would stop hurting then.

You weren’t entirely sure how far you’d gone. Joel had woken you early that morning. You’d been in the middle of a dream, one that you couldn’t remember now. You just knew that your heart was racing and you kept feeling like there was something just out of your reach, something you desperately needed to get to.

“Bambi,” he said gently, a hand on your shoulder. There was something in you that wanted to pull away but you didn’t. You stayed where you were, fumbling through your mind as you tried to remember why your heart was threatening to race out of your chest. You looked up at him, a sad look in his eyes. He always had that look now, it seemed. He took his hand back. “Sorry… You were dreaming… Didn’t seem like it was anythin’ good.”

You just nodded and pinched your eyes shut for a moment. It didn’t seem to make a difference.

Joel gave you something to eat - you couldn’t really taste it - and you stared into space between bites, back propped against a tree.

“Bambi,” he said, in a tone that made it seem like it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. You turned your head to look at him, fidgeting with some of the meat Joel had given you. “We… we really need to consider heading back to Jackson.”

You frowned.

“But…”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m so sorry we didn’t find her yet. But we need to turn back, this is day 10 and it’s gonna take a few days to make it…”

“I can’t just give up on her, Joel,” you said quietly. “I can’t, I…”

“I’m not saying give up on her,” he replied. “I’m saying that we go back to town, let the horses rest, plan where else to go next time. If… if we’re smart about it, we can search a good portion of the region without backtracking and covering the same ground twice, give us a better shot. But we can’t do that out here, Baby, we just can’t. We don’t have the rations, we’ll run out of ammo if we run into trouble, the horses will be pushed too hard. We need to go back.”

You knew he was right. But it still felt so wrong, going back to Jackson without her.

“We can take a different route back?” You asked, ready to fight him if he said no.

“Course,” he said. “We’ll see what we can find, OK? But we need to head back.”

You sighed, looking out to the forest you hadn’t searched, something tight and sickening settling in your stomach, like if you just pushed a little harder, went a little further, you’d find her.

“OK.”

The sun was high and you thought you’d been riding for a while but it was hard to know for sure. You were trying to focus on everything but you had been for more than a week, and you were worried you were missing things in the haze of fog that had over taken you. Joel kept looking back over his shoulder to you, like he was making sure you were still following him even though you knew there must be the sound of you behind him.

He looked back over his shoulder at you 13 more times - some part of you was keeping count, always aware of him - when you saw something off the trail and frowned.

You pulled Renaissance to a stop and dismounted, Joel doing a double take back at you when he realized you were no longer following him.

“Jesus, Bambi,” he brought Ares to a halt and got down, too, coming up alongside you. “Gotta tell me when you see something…”

“Sorry,” you said, not looking at him. Instead, you picked your way through the brush toward what had made you stop to begin with. It was a trap, a slender branch from a young tree pulled down toward the ground, rope pulled tight.

“Is that…” Joel frowned, so close you could feel him next to you. It didn’t bother you the way it had back in Jackson. It still sent a thrill of fear through you, making your muscles coil and tense, body preparing to defend yourself even though you knew you didn’t need to. But part of you found it oddly comforting, too. In some ways, it felt good to have him close.

“It’s a snare,” you said, kneeling beside it. You looked closer at the rope, the fibers turning green and fraying at the edges. You reached out, delicately tracing the curve of the branch with one finger. “I think it’s been here for a bit.”

Joel was silent for a moment.

“Do you think…”

“She makes these,” you said softly. “I showed her how to make a few snares, this is the one she uses the most.”

Joel knelt beside you and you looked at him. His face was soft and eyes warm, looking less pained than you’d seen him in weeks. He got closer to the pins that kept the snare ready to snap up whatever might trigger it.

“Think you’re right on the timing,” he said. “There’s some moss startin’ in down here, been here at least a month. Probably closer to two.”

“She wouldn’t have just left it here,” you said as Joel sat back from the trap. “She was good about that, she always got her traps, she remembered where she put them and she got them back. She wouldn’t have just left it here…”

“Is it OK if I take it down?” Joel’s voice was so gentle and soft, like he was holding a delicate thing with his words. “You can take a closer look at it, see if it really looks like hers…”

You just nodded, not sure if you’d be able to speak around the knot in your throat. Joel delicately released the snare and freed the pins, one from the rope and the other from the ground. He set them, almost reverently, in your open palm and set about untying the rope from the slender branch.

You held the pins tightly in your fist for a moment, as though you could absorb some part of Savvy through them if she’d held them like that once. When the wood felt as warm as your fingers and Joel was still beside you, holding the coil of rope, you opened your hand, picking up one of the pins and looking at it closely.

You’d been the one who showed Savvy how to carve these pins. You’d never been particularly good at woodworking, nothing like Joel with his even, guided knife strokes that shaped the material into something that seemed to have been held within the grain of it from the beginning, he just helped reveal it. Your daughter was better at it than you. Where your pins were always jagged and harsh, hers had an elegance and smoothness to them, precision in her cuts that you’d never been able to find on your own. You’d always wondered if she’d gotten that trait from her mother or her father, if Mark had been able to shape things and you just hadn’t known. Maybe he hadn’t even known.

The pins in your fingers were fine and almost smooth and your hand shook as you traced the arc of one.

“Bambi?” Joel said softly.

“These are hers,” you said, voice thick. “She… she is so good at making these, hers are always so precise and smooth and almost artistic and…”

He gently took one from you and you let him. He examined it, too, looking closely.

“I don’t know where she got it from,” you said, looking at him. “I never… I couldn’t teach her to do it that well, I taught her the basics but she is just good. Even when she makes them quick they’re just good and these are hers, Joel, I know they are.”

“What would make her abandon a trap?” He asked after a moment, looking back at you.

You thought for a second.

“Bad weather, maybe,” you said. “If… if she got hurt. If something drove her out of the area and she didn’t have time to collect everything or if she was too hurt to go back for it, that’s the only thing.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the pin.

“Joel,” your voice trembled. “Joel, what if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her, what…”

“We don’t know anything yet,” he said gently. “It could have been bad weather and she packed up quick. Or she saw a threat and left before it saw her, too.”

“We have to look around here,” you said. “Please, Joel, I know we’re heading back but we have to look, I can’t…”

“We’ll look,” he said. “We’ll look, it’s OK.”

You just nodded and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. You did it without thinking, it was just instinct. Joel was stable and warm and smelled like home and you needed that. You needed him. He was still for a moment before he put an arm around you, holding you gently.

“We will find her, baby,” he said gently. “It’s OK.”

The two of you looked for signs of her immediately around the snare but you weren’t that discouraged when you didn’t find any. It had been weeks, footprints in mud and the scars of missing bark from trees would be long gone.

“Which way would she go?” Joel asked, watching you.

You sighed, looking around. Your heart was beating like you were running from something and at a fork in the road, forced to make a life or death choice.

“There’s water, northeast of here I think, right?” You said, trying to orient yourself. “She knew to stick near where she could find water, I think she’d head that way.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Then that’s where we’ll go.”

He watched you closely for a moment. Your jaw was tight, whole being taut and tense. He slowly, cautiously, reached for you, giving you every opportunity to pull away from him. You didn’t. Instead, you let him pull your worn body against his, his arms wrapping around you, his lips brushing your hair. You put your arms around him, looping them up and over his back, fingers splaying wide and clutching him close for a moment.

“It’s OK Bambi,” he said. You could feel his voice in his chest. “It’s going to be OK.”

You took the lead again, every direction change and choice feeling bigger than any other you’d ever made. Every path not followed hurt, a chance that you were losing. You tried not to think about it but your mind kept getting stuck, as though if you concentrated hard enough you could pull yourself apart and the pieces could keep searching. It didn’t matter much if you couldn’t put it all back together again. If you found her, it was worth it. If you didn’t, what would be the point.

Dusk was on the horizon when you started looking for a place to stop for the night.

“What’s that?” Joel said after you’d started looking for a good place to rest as well as for signs of Savvy. “To the east a bit?”

You looked back at him to see where he meant and followed his eye line. There was a bright spot through the trees about a football field away. You frowned a little.

“Worth looking at,” you looked back toward Joel. He just nodded before nudging Ares toward the bright spot and you followed with Renaissance. When you went to overtake him, he held his hand out.

“Should stay behind me,” he said. “Just… in case.”

You frowned a little but nodded and fell in behind him, watching as he brought his rifle forward. Your grip on Renaissance tightened and she huffed, her ears twitching.

It was almost a let down when it was just a small clearing. For a moment, you thought it was just a quirk of the forest but you saw another spot just beyond that was brighter, too. You dismounted.

“Got the map?” You asked, tying Renaissance off on a nearby tree before working your way through the brush to the other bright spot. It was a clearing, too. “Looks like campsites.”

“Here,” Joel said as you came back over, Ares tied off near Renaissance, the map in his hand. “We’re toward the north end of the Shoshone National Forest. Or should be, anyway.” You nodded, looking at the map. It didn’t have things like camp grounds marked that you could see. “Thinkin’ we’re about here.”

He pointed to a spot on the map and you nodded again.

“Near water,” you said, looking back up at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’d be a good spot.”

“Let me just…” you looked out toward the other clearing. “I’ll be back.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you just went back toward the other site, crossing it this time and working your way through the brush to another site. There were five all told and you found the remains of a fire at the fourth one. You knelt beside the small fire pit, the ash pile tall enough that you could tell it was from more than just a day or two. Joel appeared beside you.

“Someone was here,” you said, nodding at it. “For a little while.”

Joel’s hand went to the middle of your back and you jumped a little at his touch before you relaxed into it.

“Could be,” he said, replying to the words you couldn’t say. You just nodded.

The two of you settled in for the night, finishing off the rabbit from the night before. You tried not to think about patrolling with Joel. How you’d sit near him and find comfort in his presence, how you wanted to do everything beside him. Part of you still lived in that feeling. The rest of you was still chained to a wall, begging for help but getting none.

Joel hummed quietly as he carved - some small figure that you were curious about but couldn’t bring yourself to ask after - as you stared at the fire, watching the crackle as the wood popped and sparks flew.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” You asked, arms looped around your knees, looking across the flames to him when you couldn’t take the silence and distance anymore.

Joel frowned, raising his eyes to yours.

“No. Why would I think you’re crazy?”

“For doing this,” you said. “Searching with no real idea of where to go, endless space to look, all for someone I don’t…”

Your voice broke and you looked back at the fire.

“No,” he said gently. “Not crazy. I’d do the same thing.”

“Is that why you’re helping me?” You asked, looking back at him.

He considered you for a moment, a brief flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Part of it,” he said eventually. “But, Sweetheart… I’d do anything for you. Lookin’ for your girl… that’s… there’s no question. I’m always going to want to help you, always going to want to take care of you. Doesn’t matter what it is but especially with this.”

You nodded and buried your face in your arms for a moment before you sighed.

“I’m scared I’m losing my mind,” you said before looking back at him again. “I don’t know if… If what I’m thinking and hoping and basing all this around is real or if it’s just… For a while, when I was with them, when I thought she was gone, I wanted to die. There just wasn’t a reason for any of it and everything just hurt all the time but I couldn’t do it. I just kept living and I resented it. But, after a while, it’s like I talked myself out of it. I convinced myself that she could be out there. Just enough that I could forget how much it hurt. And then I got out. But every time I saw something that made me think that it could be a sign of her… I think I’ve been moving toward this for a long time. Where I can’t be in limbo anymore and can’t just avoid it, where I need to know and… I don’t know how much of it is real and smart and how much of it is something just made out of the hurt and the fact that it seemed like it should have killed me but it didn’t. I don’t know how sane any of it is, Joel. I don’t. But I don’t know if I can survive without it and…”

You buried your face in your arms again, tears stinging your eyes.

“I understand, Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him, frowning a little. “I did a lot of that when… after Sarah died. I knew she was gone, there wasn’t a question of that. I felt it happen. But… I couldn’t live with it, either.”

You frowned a little, watching him closely.

“Tried to end it,” he said, sniffing once, his voice tight. “Next day. Put a gun to my head, figured it’d be quick. Didn’t work, obviously. Flinched.”

“Joel…”

“Spent a lot of years after that hidin’ from it,” he continued, turning his carving over in his hands. “Tried not to think about her. Regret that now. Who knows what I forgot because I was so busy trying to not hurt. Tommy never even said her name. We never talked about her. But it seemed like the best part of my day was the half a second after I woke up when I didn’t remember she was gone. Always felt like she was in the next room, that I’d need to make sure she was moving to get out the door on time for school… It took a long time before I found something else to live for. And it sure seems like she found me, not the other way around. Then we came to Jackson and I… I found you. With her and with you, seemed like there was a reason I flinched back then. Like part of me knew there was a reason to go on and I’d find it eventually.

“You’ve got that, too. Even if… even if it’s not me and even if it doesn’t seem like it. You have things to live for, baby. Promise you do. You may not even know what they are yet but you have ‘em. You just have to keep living, that’s all. Just keep survivin’. Please.”

You watched him through the flames for a moment before you got up and came around the flames to sit beside him, close but not so close that you were touching. He froze as you leaned over, slowly, to rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad it didn’t work,” you said quietly.

“Me, too,” he replied after a moment.

“I don’t know what I want right now,” you said, watching the fire. “But I know that I’m glad you exist. That I want you to be happy.”

You felt him turn ever so slightly, his lips and his nose brushing the top of your head.

“I’m here for you,” he said softly. “However you want me, I’ll do whatever you want. As long as you’re safe and happy, I’ll do whatever you want.”

He held his large hand out to you, a small carving of a deer in his fingers. You took it, turning its delicate body in the light.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” he said quietly. “All yours either way.”

***

You wanted to follow the river the next day. Joel was fine with that, especially since you picked the route that curved back toward Jackson. Or, at least, in that general direction. It was still a few days ride and he’d already made notes of where you’d found signs of Savvy to come back and check again if the two of you didn’t find her on this trip out.

You were more yourself than you had been in a long time. The two of you stopped for lunch and to give the horses a longer break and Joel started carving again, just to give himself something to do besides look at you. That hurt too much.

“Can you teach me?” You asked after a few minutes. He looked at you for a moment, surprised you were talking to him at all. It had been a quiet almost two weeks with you.

“Sure,” he said before you had a chance to take it back. “Want to come sit by me? Grab…” he looked around for a moment before finding a hunk of wood on the ground that looked like it would work. “That there?”

You nodded and moved to be next to him. Careful, he noticed, to not touch him but close enough that you could easily see his hands. He cleared his throat.

“Want to find the grain of the wood,” he said, watching as you turned the chunk of wood in your hands. “Want to work with it, go against it and it’ll split.”

“Makes sense,” you said. Fuck, you were so close to him.

“Start with a rough cuts, get the outline of what you want to make,” he said. “Knife in your dominant hand, wood in the other. Hold it real firm and cut away from your body in thin slices, don’t go too deep or it’ll fracture.”

You nodded and looked at the wood again, frowning down at it.

“What do you want to make?” He asked after you didn’t move to cut it.

“A moose, I think,” you said. “Just not sure where to start.”

He nodded slowly.

“Can I?” He asked, hand out. You shrugged and handed the wood over. He turned it in his hands for a moment, getting a feel for the shape of it, finding the grain. “Here,” he said, holding it close to you. “Back’ll probably be this part here…” He notched the blade against the wood and cut into it. “That’ll make this the neck.” He adjusted the knife and cut again. “Legs down here. You try that one.”

He handed the wood back and your fingers brushed his as you took it. He clenched his hand into a fist in his lap, squeezing some of the tension swelling in him out before releasing it.

“Here?” You asked, lining up your knife.

“Yeah,” Joel said. “But turn it a bit so you’re cuttin’ more away from yourself…” He helped you adjust and felt your skin on his again. You made the cut. “There ya go. Go back over the whole thing like that, shave off a bit more…”

You nodded and set to work and Joel tried to not watch you too obsessively. He didn’t want to push you away or make you uncomfortable but fuck you were so close and you weren’t mad at him. So much of what he remembered of how you felt in his arms had gotten mixed up in the night you’d left Jackson, how he clutched onto you while you screamed. He wasn’t sure you’d ever let him close again and now you were beside him because you chose it. He couldn’t ruin it. He went back to his own carving.

“Alright,” you said eventually, holding up the wood. “Think I’ve got it. Now what?”

He looked at it and nodded.

“Good job,” he said. “There are two other kinds of cuts you’ll use for the rest of it. One where you pull the knife toward yourself - most common one - and one where you push it. Pull is a lot like paring, you’re gonna brace the wood with your thumb and then pull your knife towards it.”He showed you on his carving and you leaned in close, nodding. “Keep your thumb back so you don’t get hurt, though.”

You nodded and positioned your hands like his before pressing into the wood. The first cut was jagged but the beginning of the technique was there. And you didn’t cut your thumb, so it was enough for him to call it a success.

“Good,” he said and you looked up at him, smiling a little.

He showed you how to do the push stroke, too, and the two of you sat in near silence for a bit, working at your carvings. Joel kept glancing your way, trying to not look too long so he didn’t distract you but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for it. He was close to you, close enough that your elbow brushed against him now and then and he could hear you breathing, with a reason to look at you. He’d have been happy to stay like that for hours, with birds singing and you breathing, like nothing bad had ever happened to either of you at all.

You’d made good progress when you cursed and hissed, dropping the wood and bringing your hand to your mouth.

“Cut your thumb?” He asked, setting his carving and knife down. You nodded, thumb between your lips. He held out his hand. “Lemme see.”

“Uh uh,” you muttered as you sucked on your injured finger.

“C’mon, Bambi,” he smiled a little. “Happens to everyone, especially when you’re learnin’. Lemme see it.”

You looked at him with those wide eyes of yours like you were half expecting him to judge you for your slip. But you sighed and pulled your thumb from your mouth and thrust your hand at him. He took it gently, yours so much smaller than his own that it seemed delicate even with the callus from guitar and riding on your fingertips and palms. The cut on your thumb started beading with blood before he had a chance to look at it and he frowned for a second before raising your hand to his mouth, putting your small hurt between his lips and pulling the salt and copper of you into him. Your breath hitched and Joel felt you stiffen beside him and it was only then that he realized what he’d done without thinking, the casual intimacy of caring for your body with his own. There was still a part of him that couldn’t accept the separation from you. It felt like an unnatural thing, you existing so separate from him that you could be hurting next to him and he was supposed to ignore it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He pulled your hand carefully from his mouth.

“Sorry,” he said, voice gruff, as he delicately examined the cut. It was deeper than he’d hoped but not to the bone. “S’not too bad, lemme just…” He released your hand and went into his bag, pulling out a scrap of fabric he had just for this kind of injury. He took your hand back and poured a little water over the cut before he wrapped it tightly, knotting the cotton around your thumb. “Keep that elevated for a minute, should stop bleeding before too long. When it does, we’ll get going.”

You nodded and Joel picked up your carving from where you’d dropped it. The moose was starting to take shape, though its form was jagged and rough. But the ruggedness suited it, something powerful not easily contained by the wood. Your blood stained the side of its chest, near where its heart would be. Joel tried to wipe it away but some had already seeped in, a red splotch on its chest.

“I ruined him,” you said, sounding a little sad. Joel glanced over at you, your eyes focused on the small creature in his palm, lips turned into a small frown.

“Think he’ll be alright, Bambi,” Joel smiled a little. “Besides, he only exists because of you. Don’t think you can ruin him.”

After a moment, Joel took your bleeding hand back and checked the bandage. It looked to be holding.

“We should go,” you said, a little breathless, watching him.

“Yes,” a voice from behind the two of you said. “You really should.”

Joel jumped to his feet and drew his gun, aiming it at a group of five men who - while he was distracted by you and your proximity and your blood - had managed to sneak up on him. He cursed himself silently as he glanced quickly to where you’d been. You were on your feet, too, gun drawn and held in front of you. He adjusted so he was between you and them.

“Not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel said. “Just passing through. Appreciate it if you’d let us.”

“Not too fond of folks passing through,” one of the men stepped forward, lowering his gun just a bit. The other four kept their weapons trained on Joel. He wasn’t in a good position to take out a group like this. He wished he had his rifle instead of his handgun but the rifle was strapped to Ares and he was tied to a tree a good 20 feet away. He ground his teeth. “Because it never seems like they’re just passing through.”

Joel stepped back until he felt you at his back and he breathed a little easier. He just needed to keep you in one piece, that’s all.

“Well, we are,” Joel said. “Looking for someone, think she might have come through here. Once we look for her, we’ll be on our way.”

“No one out here but us,” the man said. “Took this territory few months back and believe me, we’re not about to let anyone just take what’s ours.”

“She wouldn’t steal from you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Joel.

“Bambi,” he hissed but you ignored him.

“She’s a teenager,” you said. “Brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She set up a snare about a day’s ride from here so she was probably around for a while…”

“Told you,” the man said. “Don’t let people take what’s ours. This is our territory, don’t let just anybody hunt on it. We got folks to look after, can’t have just anyone taking animals on our land. Including you. So you can come with us or we can handle this here.”

Joel glanced at you, trying to do the calculus of what was the best move. Did he risk taking a hand off his weapon to throw you behind him? Did he start shooting and move himself in front of you? Did he try to talk these idiots down?

“We haven’t hunted in days,” you bit out before Joel had a chance to decide. “Haven’t taken anything of yours, just want to keep looking…”

“See, now, don’t think I can believe that,” the man said. Joel clenched his jaw. “Sure as shit can’t trust you to just stay in our territory…”

“We’ll leave,” Joel said, catching a glimpse of your head whipping around to stare him down. “Already heading back toward ours…”

One of the the four men toward the back took a step closer to you and Joel reacted before he really thought about it. It was instinctual. There was a threat to you and he took that threat down, the gunshot cracking through the air as the man dropped to the earth.

Everything happened quickly then. There was a split second of near silence, the echo of the bullet hanging heavy over the shocked silence of the surrounding forest, and the shooting began.

Joel moved for you as one of your bullets hit one of the men. Joel threw you behind a tree and kept shooting as the other men scrambled for cover.

“Three left,” you said, scrambling to reload before looking up at Joel, panting for breath. “Should leave at least one alive, question him.”

Joel nodded, gun low. A chunk of tree trunk exploded near his head and he flinched.

“I’m gonna draw their fire…”

“No,” you shook your head, cutting him off. “No, you can’t…”

“You cover me,” he said, ignoring you. “They’re gonna expose themselves to take a shot, take ‘em down then. Stay back. Something happens to me, get out of here, OK?”

“Joel,” you said, voice sharp and eyes wide, but he pressed on. There was the sharp crack of another bullet hitting the tree.

“You need to stay alive for her, OK?” He said. “Understand? You’re the only one who knows she’s missing and how to find her so you stay alive for her.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead he looked back over his shoulder and around the tree, as much as he dared to catch a glimpse of their positions before looking back at you.

“I’m going on three, OK baby?” He looked in your eyes for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time and took a deep breath. He wanted to touch you, promise you it was all going to be OK, but kept his hands on his gun. “I love you. No matter what.”

He counted down before you had a chance to say anything back and ran for a tree that would give him cover while also giving him a chance to get closer to the last of the men. A bullet passed so close to him he felt it on the air and you started shooting almost immediately, your second shot hitting one of the men in the chest. Joel kept shooting and so did you, but he was pretty sure it was his shot that felled the next man, just as he reached the other tree. That left one who was alive. He reloaded and looked over to you from his new position, your chest heaving but face set firm. He jerked his head back, hoping you’d understand what he wanted you to do. You nodded once. He held up three fingers and you nodded again. He counted down and you both moved. He tracked you with his eyes for a moment, thankful you got what he’d been trying to communicate with you. You moved quickly but delicately around the edge of the trees, going to loop around the back side of where the men were hiding. Joel went the other way. With any luck, he’d meet you in the middle by the final man.

“You two sure cause a lot of trouble for folks just passin’ through,” the first man called. Joel was quiet. That meant he probably hadn’t seen the two of you start to move. “Should understand why we kill everyone who comes through. Probably killed that girl you’re after. If she was around here few months back we did.” Joel clenched his jaw. He was getting close to the man’s position, having to move slowly to not make a sound. “Cleared the land when we took over, folks could join up or they got handled. If she’s anything like you two, she got handled.”

Joel barely had a chance to hope you didn’t take the bait when you roared, the sound sharp and harsh. He moved quickly then, just in time to see you knock the man’s gun out of his hand as he got a shot off. It grazed your arm but you didn’t seem to notice. You tackled him but couldn’t leverage yourself to stay on top fast enough and he slammed you into the ground with a sickening thud. You were still as he scrambled to his feet and brought his foot down, hard, on your arm. Joel heard it snap half a second before you screamed and he finally - finally - reached the man, looping an arm around his throat and pulling him back, pressing the gun to his temple.

“That was a fuckin’ mistake,” he growled. The man clawed uselessly at Joel’s arm. “If you’re smart, you’ll cooperate. If you ain’t, that’s OK too. Don’t mind forcing you.”

Joel looked down toward you, tears in your eyes as you lay flat on your back, pupils blown.

“You still with me, baby?” He asked, resisting the urge to snap the man’s neck. You nodded and blinked tears from your eyes. “Good. Stay put, just a minute, OK?”

Joel wrenched the man around and shoved him to the ground before pressing him back against a tree. He flinched back for a moment and Joel almost smiled at him. He was afraid. Afraid was good.

“Gonna ask you just a few questions,” Joel said, gun still pressed to the man’s chest. “And you can tell me what I want to know or I can hurt you. Either way, I get what I want. Don’t matter much to me which way it goes.”

“Sure we can work something out,” the man said, his eyes darting and wide. “We’ve got a good crew, we’re setting up something permanent, could use someone with your skills…”

“Don’t need a place,” Joel cut him off. “Especially not with someone who would kill a kid. That what you did? You kill a kid?”

“Look…” he said but Joel turned the gun down and pressed it to the man’s thigh, pulling the trigger. The shot was nearly deafening and the spray of blood was hot as the man screamed, his hands flying to his mangled leg, his torso arching over his injured limb. Joel calmly wiped the man’s blood off his gun using some denim that had missed the splatter before he holstered it. He pulled out his knife and opened it before pressing his knee into the shin of the man’s injured leg. He screamed again and Joel held up the knife.

“Got plenty of places I can put this, too,” he said, voice calm. “So answer the question. Did you kill a kid?”

“I’m sorry,” he slumped back against the tree, his hands clutching around his injured thigh, as though that would hold him together. “We… we killed a lot of people when we moved in here, there were people all through this area but they… they weren’t organized, just nomads. They were a threat, we’ve been running from another group, made it far enough from where they mark their territory, needed to stake a claim before we lost that, too. We offered… anyone we found we offered a place but if they didn’t hold up their end or if they turned it down we killed ‘em, couldn’t let ‘em live, they knew too much, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Still haven’t answered the question,” Joel said. “Did you kill a kid?”

“My kid,” you said, voice closer than Joel had expected it. He glanced back to you and you were standing just behind him, cradling your arm to your chest. “She’s 14, brown skin, brown eyes, curly hair. She was out here about two months ago. Seen anyone like that?”

Joel tried to not picture Sarah trying to navigate the wilderness alone.

“No,” the man shook his head quickly. “No, I haven’t I swear I haven’t, not back at the settlement, not out here, I haven’t, I promise! I promise.”

“Any of your buddies mention someone like that?” Joel asked, knife still in hand. “Any of your buddies take a liking to teenaged girls?”

“What?” He frowned. Joel sighed and thrust the knife into the man’s good leg at the knee. He screamed, shooting forward in pain. Joel waited for the choking sobs to turn to whimpers.

“Asked if your buddies might have mentioned her,” he said. “Or if any of ‘em like teenaged girls. Think you know what I’m askin’.”

The man panted and looked up at you, as though you’d help him. Joel grabbed the man’s chin, yanking his gaze back to him.

“Not at her,” he said. “You’re with me. Answer the question or I’m gonna make things a whole lot worse for you. Any of your buddies mention a girl like her? Any of them have a habit of taking up with girls?”

“No,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “No, none of them mentioned her but…”

Joel was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, he gripped the knife, adding just enough pressure that the man yelped and started panting for breath.

“But?” Joel asked.

“But they wouldn’t have mentioned her!” He cried out, opening his eyes to look up at you again. “We didn’t talk about who we took out, there were a few dozen and… I’m sorry, if she was here… if she was here when we came through…”

Joel pulled the knife out before he could finish the statement. You didn’t need to hear that.

“Where’s your settlement?” Joel asked, wiping the blood on a clean spot on the man’s shirt before pressing the point to the man’s throat, just enough that he’d feel the sharp of it.

“Northeast!” He said. “Northeast, just south of the road going into Cody, about 20 miles west of the town. We… we’ve claimed through here all the way about five miles south as ours, we’ve got about 250 folks up that way…”

Joel nodded and closed the knife before standing. He looked over at you, at the cold and detached look in your eyes.

“Bambi,” he said gently, but you ignored him.

Instead, you pulled out your gun and aimed it at the man’s head. He barely had a chance to raise his hands, didn’t have a chance to beg for his life, before you shot him point blank, his blood splattering your good hand as your broken arm hung, limp and misshapen, at your side. The man’s body slumped over and you screamed at it, the sound seeming like it was ripping up from the center of you. You screamed until you were out of breath and you stood there, standing over the man’s broken form, the gun dangling from your fist, tears in your eyes.

Joel wordlessly went to one of the other men, one he’d shot in the head. The blood splatter on his shirt was minimal. He pulled it off the corpse and brought it over to you.

“Give me your arm,” he said gently. You didn’t seem to hear him. He gingerly took the elbow of your broken arm and you jumped, looking at him like you were surprised he was there. “Here, it’s OK sweetheart.”

He tucked your arm into the soft flannel before he tied the sleeves of the shirt together and draped it around your neck. He went to your other arm, the one that had been grazed by the gunshot and looked at you for a moment, a silent request for permission. You gave him a single nod before he poured water over the wound, cleaning it as best he could. It didn’t look too bad, at least. It would leave a scar but the damage shouldn’t be anything more than that. He got a bandage from his pack and wrapped it around your bicep before tying it off.

“Bambi,” he said again, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

“We should move,” you said, your voice flat. “Sure that drew plenty of attention.”

You stalked back over to where the horses had been tethered - thankfully safe from the gunfire - and stopped to pick up the carving and your knife from the ground. Joel followed behind you and watched as you carefully packed the half-formed moose away before tucking the folded knife into your pocket. He went to help you up onto Renaissance but you brushed him off.

“Broken bones before,” you snapped. You tried to glare at him but your eyes were so empty. “Know how to get on a horse with one, I’m not useless.”

“OK,” he said softly. “I’m here if you need.”

You mounted up fine - not that he should have been surprised - and Joel got on Ares, both horses surprisingly serene given the gunfight that had happened not far from them only 20 minutes earlier. But Joel knew you’d worked to desensitize them to the sound of guns. You’d made them all but warhorses, sturdy enough to withstand anything the apocalypse would throw at them. It had served the two of you well.

“They said northeast, right?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“Bambi…”

“If they killed her, I’m killing them,” you said. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t know that they did,” he said, bringing his horse alongside yours.

You stared him down.

“Sounds like they killed enough to deserve it either way.”

“Maybe so,” Joel said carefully. He tried to imagine how someone would need to talk him down from killing everyone who’d planned to kill Ellie. If someone would have even been able to stop him from killing every person in that goddamn hospital. “But you’re hurt…”

“Joel.”

“We’re low on ammo. Goin’ now will just get you killed and…”

“So?” You yelled. “Do you think I care? You think it matters if…”

“It matters!” He yelled back, his chest tight. He fought to stay in the present, stay with you here in the wild and not in a field outside Austin as he felt his daughter die and not on the floor of a broken house with your cold, barely breathing body pressed against him. “It matters to me and it matters to Ellie and, goddammit, it matters to your daughter! You don’t know, Bambi, you can’t know if she’s gone. But you’re the only one who knows how to look for her and I’m not going to let you throw that away, I’m not. I am not takin’ you there and we both know that, without one arm, you ain’t gettin’ far without me. We’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

You stared him down for a moment, a shadow of rage in your eyes before that died, too. He made you take the lead so he could keep a proper eye on you and the two of you made decent progress before stopping for the night, Joel hunting on the way so he wasn’t going to leave you unattended. He took your weapons when you did. You glared at him but handed over your side arm.

“Knife, too,” he said, his hand out.

“Fuck you.”

He didn’t take the bait. He just kept his hand out. After a moment, you wrenched it out of your pocket and smacked it into his waiting palm.

“Thank you.”

You kept your distance from him that evening, just staring blankly into the fire and cradling your broken arm.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Bambi,” he said as you set up to sleep and he got set to keep watch. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

It took days to reach Jackson, your arm discolored and pain the only thing visible in your eyes when you got there. Joel brought you straight to the clinic and walked you inside, still not willing to let you out of his sight. He couldn’t hold your body. Not yours, too.

He took the horses to the stables, giving a confused Renaissance an extra apple as she chuffed, looking for you.

“Gettin’ her taken care of, too,” he said gently stroking her neck. She bobbed her large head. “She’ll… she’ll get there. It’s OK.”

He went back to the clinic after and sat on the steps outside, waiting for you to come out, hoping he wouldn’t see Ellie until he went home for the night. He wanted to see her, hug her, but he wasn’t sure if you could handle it. And he didn’t want to try to explain everything to her, at least not everything about you.

Joel wasn’t sure how long he sat there waiting when the door behind him opened with a creak and he turned to see you standing at the top of the steps, your arm in a proper cast with more than a makeshift sling this time.

“You’re still here,” you said, your voice flat.

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he replied.

“What, haven’t had enough of me over the last few weeks?” You asked. It seemed like you’d meant to put your usual bite behind the words but they were just hollow.

“No,” he replied. “No such thing as enough of you.”

He carried your pack for you, walking alongside you on your slow path home.

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

You shrugged.

“Took some doing to get my arm set. Had worse.”

Joel nodded.

“And how are you feeling… outside that.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded again, making his way to the front gate of your home. You opened it and didn’t stop him from coming up the walk so he followed you to your door. You stopped there, holding out your good arm for your bag.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, looking at his chest instead of really at him.

“Course,” he said. You went to open your door but he stopped you, a large hand cupped gently around the elbow of your intact arm. “Bambi…”

You looked at him with those wide eyes. He sighed.

“I don’t know if it’s right, leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be OK,” you shrugged. “Not your job to worry about me.”

“I want to worry about you.”

You sighed.

“Joel…”

“I do,” he said. “Doesn’t matter what you do or say, I do. And I’m going to.”

You looked at him.

“I don’t think it’s good for us to spend time together right now,” you said.

He tried to not let the hurt show, the feeling of a knife twisting in his gut.

“You want something different than me,” you continued. “And I just… I can’t. Not right now. And I don’t think us spending time together is smart.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“I can wait.”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, chin jutting out defiantly. The knife twisted again. “You should move on. It’s for the best.”

“And what are you gonna do?” He asked.

You sighed and looked back out at the street. There were birds in the distance and the wind blew in the smell of apple blossoms from the orchard just outside the walls. It would be idyllic if his heart wasn’t cracking open and bleeding on your porch.

“Survive, I guess.”

“Bambi,” you looked back at him. “Meant what I said out there. You can’t give up, OK? You have to find something to fight for. You can. I know you can. And we don’t know if what they said was true, we can’t know. We can keep looking. Once you’re healed, we’ll find another window, we’ll search. She got out of there in a hurry, she probably just…”

“Right,” you said. It didn’t sound like you believed it.

“Promise me,” he said.

You frowned.

“Promise you what?”

“That if I leave you here you won’t do what I did,” he said. “That you’ll be stronger than me and live with it. That if you need someone you’ll come to me and you won’t try to do it alone. Because I meant it, all of it. May not be the same for you anymore but that’s OK. Think I can love you enough for the both of us, just come to me when you need it, please. Need you to promise me, sweetheart. Please.”

“Joel…”

“Promise me.”

Your eyes met his and, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a shadow of the spark of you there. That you were there, buried deep in grief and pain and betrayal.

You took a deep breath.

“I promise.”

Joel slowly, cautiously, raised a hand to cup your cheek. You didn’t stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, your lips parting like you were going to kiss him. But you didn’t and he didn’t try to take it. Instead, he tilted your head and nuzzled against your forehead for a moment before kissing you there, pressing his lips against your skin, breathing in the smell of your hair. He lingered against you as long as he could before he stepped back, taking a moment to memorize you.

You took a deep breath.

“Goodbye, Joel.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Goodbye, Bambi.”

Next Chapter

A/N: I am so so sorry for the wait on this and for the fact that it's a bit of a monster chapter. It got away from me, I admit. I'm trying to get back into the swing of my regular writing cadence now that the holidays are through and I so appreciate you being here and your patience ❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc

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waklman · 1 year

Text

Glue Song (Pt. 2)

summary: you meet rooster and jake doesn’t know how to feel about it.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: brief mention of death

a/n: more pining, friends to lovers, fluff x angst, rooster x hangman moment (?). part 3 comes next..!

word count: 2.2k

previous part | next part

Jake doesn’t know what gets on his nerves more.

The fact that Javy insisted to go help you grab more cookies from the kitchen, leaving him to brood in his seat alone or the fact that he’s been painfully watching Rooster struggle to squeeze his Bronco between your mini cooper and Jake’s very own Ford truck.

After a heated argument on which pilot should lend you a hand, Javy won on the basis that Jake should be the one to greet Rooster when he arrives. And so, Javy is able to escape the wrath of his seething friend with the most shiteating grin on his face as he got to follow you out back.

Replaying the scene back in his mind leaves Jake annoyed beyond belief, and now that he’s witnessing Rooster back out of the parking spot for the fifth time this evening, he feels his anger flare up even more.

Jake leans back in his seat, throwing his arms across his chest and watches his guest finally stroll through the front doors as if he’s not running late with another variation of his Hawaiin button up slung over his thick shoulders.

Rooster doesn’t know what to say as he carefully steps inside, spotting Hangman sitting by himself. He keeps a neutral expression on but doesn’t know what to make of his view. Hangman is waiting for him by a table of love-themed baked goods. He can't help but to imagine how Natasha would kick him in the balls laughing once he tells her what he’s currently seeing.

Rooster takes in Hangman’s appearance as he gets closer, bewildered that his hair is styled nicely, instead of being slicked back by five pounds of gel. And he can’t recall a time where he’s seen Hangman dressed so casually before. For the first time ever, he acknowledges that Jake looks pretty good.

As he takes his last step over towards the table, Rooster hesitantly speaks.

“Look man. I don’t know if you misunderstood what Mav said but—”

“Sit.” Jake asks through clenched teeth, peeved that Rooster would even assume he’d have any kind of romantic interest in him.

Though slightly horrified at the situation, Rooster obliges anyway—taking a seat, awkwardly adjusting himself in the tiny chair.

The sight was laughable. The two grown men were basically swallowing the small seats they sat in with an array of goodies displayed between them.

Jake looks across the table, his eyes silently trailing up and down Rooster’s body.

Rooster can’t tell if he’s trying to size him up or he’s simply curious about how many Hawaiian printed shirts he owns.

Both men clear their throats and flinch at their synced mannerism.

Before they get a chance to fester in an awkward silence together, Jake feels his phone ring repeatedly in his front pocket.

Jake immediately recognizes the unique text-tone he specifically set for your contact.

Rooster curiously watches Hangman, the man across from him practically shoves half his arm down his pants to grab his phone, a small smile replacing his previously annoyed expression.

Angel

Me and Javy are warming up the cookies now!!

Is that his truck out front???

I'm so excited Jack!!

We’re coming out soon I promose :))

His grin peers back at him in the reflection of his screen as he rereads your typos, you were so happy for him that you didn’t even bother to look over your own spelling.

“Who’s Jack? :(“ he quickly types out in response, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

Jake bunglingly shifts in his seat, attempting to find a comfortable position after realizing that Rooster had been watching him check his phone.

“Coyote is joining us in a bit, and my other friend too.” He speaks so fast Rooster would’ve never caught what he said if he wasn’t paying close attention.

“Oh, alright” he responds.

They both synchronously stare down at the food in front of them before making brief eye contact with each other.

Both men quickly retract their gaze, pretending to look around the shop–unsure if they want to make eye contact with one another again.

Rooster stares off in the direction of the kitchen and spots Coyote walking out, his head looking back over his shoulder to smile at a girl following closely behind him.

“Wait, watch where you’re going.” you draw back your smile, a worried look settling on your face as you kick at Javy’s ankle, alerting him to look ahead.

Pulled in by the sound of your voice, Jake quickly averts his eyes in your direction.

You and Javy are both wearing the new bear paw oven mitts he helped you pick out last weekend as you carry out red velvet cookies together.

He can’t ignore the way his throat tightens as you two make your way over.

Jake doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He blinks to regain his composure, realizing that he spaced out so severely within the last few minutes that he didn't realize that you and Javy had already politely greeted Rooster and you had taken a seat next to him.

He drops his gaze down to your knee as it bounces nervously, unaware that your leg is slightly rubbing against the side of his jeans.

His eyes trail up to your face, and follows your line of sight. You’re eagerly staring down at the cookies you just put out with Javy, as the two pilots sitting across from you are engaged in friendly conversation.

“Try her stuff.” Jake speaks up, interrupting the conversation.

He quickly rams a cookie into his mouth with his right hand, as his left gently grabs your knee, halting you from giving yourself carpet burn from the way you were furiously rubbing against his denim pants.

Jake feels you look up at him appreciatively from his peripheral as he shovels a chocolate croissant into his already stuffed cheeks next, urging his fellow aviators to join him.

“Mmm so damn good,” he moans—closing his eyes, appreciating the way the chocolate swirls on his tongue.

“Yeah?’ Your shoulders shake, laughing at his reaction. Despite how many times he’s already tried your baking, Jake has never failed to display his enjoyment every time.

Rooster and Javy quickly reach for the closest treat as Jake shoots them a spine chilling look while you distracted yourself, trying to find a napkin from the empty table behind you.

Once you’re fully facing everyone again, you hand Jake his much needed napkin and place a napkin in front of everyone else too.

Javy thanks you by shooting a thumbs up at you since his mouth is full, and you Bradley shyly grins at your kind gesture.

Rooster then takes a big bite of one of your red velvet cookies and feels a wave of nostalgia hit him right in the chest.

“Oh wow. This is amazing,” he compliments you, wide eyed.

It tastes so much like his mother’s cookies that it makes his heart twinge.

“I don’t remember the last time I had something home-made. This is great,” he admits to the group with a smile.

Javy and Jake stills at his statement, knowing the reason why he hasn’t eaten anything home-made in awhile. The duo learned recently that his mother passed not long ago, and his father died in an accident involving Maverick while he was young.

“If you come around here I can whip up something for you. What do you like, Rooster?” you offer, lips pulled into a small smile.

Jake knows that you mean it too. It wasn’t just to make conversation or to distract from the topic—he can almost envision you keeping yourself past store hours to practice new recipes for Rooster.

“These cookies are great as is.” he returns your smile, appreciative that you didn’t attempt to pry or send him a look of pity he’s grown accustomed to receiving.

“How about you come around in the morning with Jake? Maybe it’ll count as bonding time to your boss.” you joke.

Jake feels himself choke on his croissant, Javy pushes a cup of water in his friend’s direction immediately.

Jake fervently nods his head no at your statement after clearing his throat with water.

“Jacob Daniel Seresin.” you scolded, appalled by his manners.

Bradley smiles watching the once cocky pilot he knew shrink in his seat like a kicked puppy as you stare him down.

“Sounds good.” Rooster agrees to watch Jake sulk further.

“Hey are you guys coming down to the Hard Deck next week? Phoenix convinced Penny to reserve the space for just the navy Friday night” Rooster suddenly brings up, picking up another cookie for himself.

“Oh. Yeah I’ll be there, what about you two?” Javy looks at you and Jake.

Jake can practically see the wheels in Javy’s head turning and he wants to splash the rest of his water on him to halt his scheming.

You bite down on your tongue, a nervous habit you could never rid yourself from. Jake has never really brung you around his friends, besides Javy and now Rooster. He knows you run on the introverted side, you’re comfortable meeting others in small intimate settings like this. But a bar–the Hard Deck? Full of boisterous members of the navy running on a couple beers? Jake even grows nervous for you.

“What do you say Hangman? We can have her as our plus one.” Javy offers, slightly provoking Jake.

He looks over at you, trying to decipher your expression but it's unreadable.

“If that's okay with you guys?” you combat his nervous stare with a smile, reaching down to play with his fingers that were currently splayed on your knee.

Jake relaxes a bit, feeling your fingers twist at his graduation ring–but the anxiety still sits at the back of his throat like bile.

You don’t want to disappoint Jake and rudely decline the invite. That was probably the last thing you wanted.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll have fun since Jake and Javy will be there. It’ll be nice to see Jake spend his weekend outside the walls of your apartment for once. You’ve been feeling guilty for keeping him inside so much, although he insisted there wasn't a place he’d rather be.

But you knew deep down, Jake was much more of a social butterfly than you were. He would thrive at a bar filled with people. Your chest warms, knowing that in a room full of others, Jake will always manage to shine and cast his presence onto everyone there like a mirrorball.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Javy grins as you both stare back at him.

Within the following days, Jake learns that he has to share his mornings before work with both you and Rooster.

He tries his best to be civil, making small talk with the two of you but he can’t help but to feel like he was kicked to the curb. His involvement in conversations grows less and less by the day, yet this doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You’ve attempted to pull Jake aside a few times but he insists that he and Rooster are already running late to base–leaving you defeated as you watch him walk past customers and make a beeline for the exit. You know there’s something clearly bothering him and you grow increasingly worried, watching him retract from you like this.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake has the same worried feeling weighing down on him.

Everyday, as you speak to Rooster–Jake takes the time to study your face, admiring your features, trying to commit them to memory–worried that one day he won’t get to see your face as often anymore. He feels his heart sink the second he looks over to Rooster and sees that the brunette has the same admiration for you in his eyes.

The feeling grows worse by the second–and Jake is unsure of what to do with himself.

You even tried to talk about it with him–but for some reason-Jake uses every excuse in the book to avoid the problem. Jake Seresin, a man who thrives off the thrill of confrontation can’t fathom the idea of having a possibly confrontational conversation with you. All because he doesn’t want to hear about what you think about Rooster. He doesn’t want to hear an ounce of praise for the man to leave your lips. He doesn’t want to learn that you grew close with Rooster like how you’ve grown close with him. It’s better if he doesn’t know anything, that would hurt less.

This morning he finds himself standing next to Rooster, dozing off as the mustached man animatedly speaks to you, his muscled body leaned over the counter you worked behind. The scene in front of him makes him feel so nauseous that he hasn’t even made an attempt to taste his latte, afraid that he won’t be able to stomach it.

“Jake?” you softly called out to him, pulling him out of his haze.

He looks up from his coffee and meets your stare from across the counter, he sees you bite down on your tongue–a nervous habit of yours. He feels even more sick.

“Am I still coming over to your place on Friday to get ready with you?” you look up at him hesitantly, afraid he’ll deny your request.

He feels guilt coat the roof of his mouth. You looked so scared to speak to him.

“Yeah I’ll see you Friday, Angel,” he assures you.

Your heart twists sadly at the term of endearment.

“And we’ll talk then?” you ask.

“We’ll talk then,” he reiterates.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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azsazz · 8 months

Text

Break Up in a Small Town

Modern!Cassian x Archeron Sister!Reader

Summary: Based off of the song Break Up in a Small Town by Sam Hunt: You and Cassian have broken up and everything in town reminds him of you. It's inevitable that he sees you around, and it's hard for him to be okay when he sees you with your new man.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, drinking.

Word Count: 4,489

Notes: Small town Cassian giving me life rn.

_________________________________________

Cassian knew he would see you around.

It’s hard not to see someone he knows every time he leaves his house—the town has less than a thousand people for fucks sake. There isn’t a day that goes by where someone doesn’t stop to talk to him while he’s putting gas in his beat-down Ford Bronco or chatting him up while he tries to pay for his food in the drive through.

And normally, he welcomes it. He loves to shoot the shit with people he’s known since he was young. He’d run into Tarquin the other day at Walmart while he was picking up a rack of beer for tonight's party. He hadn’t seen the team captain of the high school football team since he’d heard Tarquin received a full scholarship to Ole Miss. He was the only one on their team to do so, though Cassian also had recruiters watching him at games. Thanks to a nasty red-flag tackle by Jurian which left his ACL torn during the championship game, they’d pulled their offers back quicker than a greased pig. Hybern High went all for nothing that year.

He still looked sheepish when Azriel’s mother had checked him out at the grocery store, even though he’s been of age for a few years now. Cassian’s cheeks flushed under her knowing look: she’d caught them more times than he could count when they were teenagers trying to find a way to sneak booze without her knowing.

The party is in full swing. Drinks are flowing and Kallias has taken over the speakers to play his mixtape. The bass is so heavy Cassian can hardly hear the words, but Vivianne’s vocals are grating, pitched too high and not on key with the rest of the notes. He shares a look with Azriel, who cringes, but clinks his beer against Cassian’s before throwing the whole can back.

Cassian follows suit, downing the cheap beer like it’s his job. It’s not his occupation, no, that would be working on cars down at Bryaxis’ Axles, but it’s pretty much his secondary one. He trails Azriel into the kitchen, wading through people gyrating on the makeshift dance floor. They round the counter laden with alcohol—tequila, empty fruity vodka shots that Mor has forced him to take with her, and some concoction of juices and multiple alcohols that nearly burned off his nose hairs when he smelt it—and make way for the fridge where he’d stuffed his beer. It better still be in there or there will be hell to pay.

“When’s Rhys coming down again?” Cassian asks, taking the beer from Azriel as he rises. He tries not to let his fingers brush his quiet friends. They’re marred and Azriel doesn't like when attention of any kind is brought to them, even though Cassian and Rhysand had never held it against him.

A house fire was the rumor around town. But Azriel had only set it straight with him and Rhys at a sleepover one night, when it was going on four in the morning and they were sleep deprived and drunk off their first beers. Maybe Azriel had thought they wouldn’t remember the next day, but there was no way Cassian could forget that his step brothers had taken the lighter fluid form the garage and set his hands ablaze because of their sadistic tendencies.

Azriel’s mother had taken him and moved as far as she could with the money she was saving up, but they’d only made it a few towns over, and Cassian is thankful. Azriel’s father had never shown his face in the years he’s lived here.

“No idea,” Azriel responds, stepping aside to let Thesean into the fridge. The fucker dips his hand right into Cassian’s box of beer, pulling one out before diving in for a second. Cassian grits his teeth but when the other man straightens he notices how glazed over his eyes are, and Cassian knows his threats won’t land. “You know he’s got that internship up in New York.”

Right, while Cassian could only afford to go to their local college, Rhysand’s parents sent him to the most expensive one they could buy him into. And Azriel’s had a job since he was a teenager, when hacking into cameras around town for fun turned into something that made serious money. He bought his mother a house and everything, even offered a room to Cassian, but Cassian wants to make his own way, even if he is living in a run down apartment across town. It’s his, and he worked hard for it.

“Shit, you’re right,” Cassian sighs. It turns into a full on glare when the backdoor shoves open and Balthazar stumbles through, arm wrapped around Emerie for support. The man’s eyes light up at the sight of him and Azriel, while Emerie parts with a sour look in his direction, slinking off into the living room.

“What’s up?” Balthazar slurs, leaning heavily against the counter. He looks like he might slide right off of it, but neither he nor Azriel do anything about it.

“Hey, Balth,” Az greets, popping the top of his beer so he has something to do. They’ll be trapped with the talkative man if they don’t think of an excuse to leave soon.

Balthazar’s eyes light up at the sound of the can cracking open, but neither of the men before him offer to get him one. No matter for him, he pulls a joint from the pocket of his jeans and a bat shaped lighter from the other, flicking it to life and setting the tip ablaze.

“You guys hear Feyre might be pregnant?” He says through a deep inhale of smoke. Cassian shares a look with Azriel, who never seems affected by any of the small town gossip. He never seems affected by anything, really.

His heart skips at the thought of Feyre. Not because of her and whoever the father of this maybe child might be, but because he’s reminded of you, her sister, the girl he’d lost. Gods, did Cassian fuck up royally when it came to you.

He takes the bait. Anything to get his mind off of you. “No fucking way.”

Balthazar smiles smug, holding the joint out their way. Cassian declines with a wave of his beer, but Azriel takes a hit, obviously uncomfortable with how crowded and rowdy the party has become.

“Yup. Apparently it was a one night stand with ‘the most beautiful man she’s ever seen,’” he bats his eyes like a simpering girl, voice pitched high in his best impression of the youngest Archeron sister.

Azriel answers through a puff of thick smoke, his voice already scratchy with it. “But isn’t she with—”

“Tam? Yeah, man, I thought so too.”

Cassian sighs, looking at his beercan. It’s full, so there’s no excuse for him to turn away and grab another. He’s wracking his mind for anything he can use as an excuse to escape the conversation, his night gone sour now that his mind is on you. It likely will be for the rest of the night too, and he’d rather sit on his futon and wallow by himself than to stay at this party.

“Speaking of Archerons,” Balthazar says, taking the joint back from Azriel. “How are you and—”

Fuck it, Cassian thinks, because Balthazar is totally drunk enough not to notice his full beer. “I think I need another drink,” he states, and Azriel glares as he abandons him with Balthazar. That man can gossip for hours, and luckily, silent old Azriel is the perfect listener.

“Isn’t the fridge right behind you?” he hears Balthazar ask Azriel as he retreats, but he doesn’t care. He shoves his beer onto the counter as he makes his way towards the front of the house where his Bronco’s parked.

He hasn’t had that much to drink yet, not even a slight buzz has kicked in, or it’s been dulled from Balthazar's painful topic of gossip. Cassian slips through the crowd as easily as a six foot five man can, girls trying to lure him onto the dance floor and guys clapping him on the back, rallying him for the next game of beer pong.

Cassain politely declines, reaching for the knob just as it pushes open and his heart stops.

It’s you.

His breath is forced from his chest by your beauty. You look amazing as always, hair done up to perfection and eyes alight with the shots you’d taken for confidence, a part of you knowing that you might see him here tonight. You’re laughing with Elain and Feyre who cling to your sides, and Nesta brings the Archeron clan to a close. Your steps falter and grin drops when you meet Cassian’s eyes.

Your mouth parts as if to say something, but Nesta’s interrupting and shoving you inside with a grumble and a curse spat Cassian’s way. His heart shatters again as he watches you walk deeper into the living room without a glance back at him.

He clenches his jaw and steps out into the cool night.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

You haunt him.

It’s a week later and Cassian hasn’t stopped thinking about you. How…good you looked, glowing and laughing whole-heartedly with your sisters when he’s hardly been able to even get out of bed. You’re still burrowed too deep in his heart. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hands, your—

He knows you haven't left town, but it feels like you have, with the way you’re avoiding each other. And you seem to be a professional at it, since it's been almost two months since the night you left him. He was a fool to let you go, not fight for you the way you surely wanted because he had accepted failure all too easily. You had made more than one good point. Cassian can’t be what you need.

Cassian hadn’t seen you at the football game tonight. The Velaris Stars had made it to the championship game of the season and everyone in town had come out for it, as the only exciting event for all to enjoy.

He’d gone with Azriel, of course, and even Rhysand had responded to his video of the winning touchdown. The popcorn had been fresh and the air was jovial, the night ending on a high note. The team is going to state.

Fiddling with the stations on his radio at the red light, he doesn’t realize that you’ve pulled up next to him until your giggles filter through the cracked window of your car and his heart stops. He thinks he hears you sometimes, telling him to knock it off when he’s had one too many beers or makes an ill-timed joke. The height differences in your small car compared to his tall one make it difficult to look, but he sits straighter and cranes his neck to see out the passenger window, and yep. It’s definitely you.

In your white Nissan he knows better than his own car. That thing is always breaking down. His heart pinches in his chest when he’s reminded of the time you’d taken it out into the fields to go stargazing. It wouldn’t start and your phones had died. Instead of walking ten miles back to town, you’d asked him to stay up with you all night under the stars, laughing and kissing like it was your last night on Earth.

Cassian wonders who's working on your car now that you’re no longer together.

He doesn’t know why you’re laughing, but he revels in the sound of it even though he feels like shit because he’s not the one making those noises coming from your mouth. Cassian wears a soft smile, thinking about all of the good times you’ve shared, until he notices the hand on your thigh.

The smile falls right off of his face.

His knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the steering wheel. The bright red of the streetlight pours into your car but he can’t see the passengers face, all he knows is that’s a man's hand holding your leg and soothing over it with his thumb. His teeth grind.

You refuse to look his way. Surely, you must know that you’ve pulled up beside him at this Godforsaken light that for some reason will not turn the fuck green. No, they want him to sit here and see what he’s lost, how happy you are with someone new.

And when the light finally changes he can’t seem to move. He sees your fleeting smile as you take off and he’s left reading that silly bumper sticker Nesta had slapped on the back bumper when she was the one who owned the car, the ‘honk if you like reading smut’ in thick, bold letters laughing at him in the face.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

The worst part about this breakup is, everywhere he goes reminds him of you.

You used to hang out with the same group of people but since the breakup happened Cassian didn’t want any of them to be stuck in the betweens of your fucked up relationship. He couldn’t even suggest trying to be friends because the thought of that alone made him want to throw up. He could never be friends with you, he doesn’t want to, because knowing you in the way that he did and not being able to touch you and hold you and fuck you like he did was much too painful. He kept Azriel in the breakup and let you have everyone else.

When he goes to the McDonald’s for lunch he sees the booth you’d spent almost two hours in, wrappers from ice cream cone strewn about the table because you asked shyly if he would judge you if you went back for a second cone and he grinned mischievously and asked if you wanted to bet on who could down more ice cream. He won, of course, but it had been a valiant effort from you nonetheless.

When he went to the library to return the book he hadn’t even cracked the spine of. He thought reading would help take his mind off of the breakup but Cassian didn’t have the energy. Gwyn was at the front desk, glaring up at him as he slid the book across the counter for her to return. The workspace was filled with art supplies, a post-it note with Feyre and your names scrawled on it and he remembered that the both of you host a arts and crafts day for the children in town once a month. Gwyn had caught his eye and shooed him away. Nesta would have been proud of the shy girl.

When he drives down the country curves, avoiding the crossroads to your house completely. All of the places he’d haphazardly pulled over when you were searching for a place to have sex. But there’s no privacy in these small towns so the back of his Bronco would have to do. It was spacious, but never the place he really wanted to take you in. He wanted to give you a proper bed and worship you like you deserved. If you’d only given him a few more years he would have his own place, though you merit a plush, large bed instead of his paper thin futon.

Cassian stops into Alice’s cafe. It’s fairly early in the morning, but the place is still packed because it’s one of the only restaurants in town. Somethings off about him today, though, and maybe it’s because his mind hasn’t stopped working overtime, trying to figure out who was in that car with you.

Why hadn’t he been driving? Did you want to drive or was he so pretentious that he wouldn’t take you around town? Does he even have a car? He can’t stop overanalyzing the situation and he’s sleep deprived. All he wants is a fucking coffee and the town doesn’t even have a Starbucks yet, so he has to park his car in the overflow lot and go inside. He doesn’t want to be bothered, but the cafe is crawling with townies, so it’s inevitable he’ll see someone he knows.

He doesn’t expect it to be you.

It’s not like you’re sitting in any of the booths that line his path to the ordering counter. His eyes seem to gravitate towards you no matter where you are, and your playful flirting is unmistakable. He knows, he’s been happily on the other side of that banter before.

Cassian’s gaze locks on you first. You look perfect, unfazed by anything happening in the loud cafe around you. Dishes clang together as the waitress gathers them. It’s Cerridwen, and her twin Naula is manning the espresso machine, Cassian notices when the waitress nods her direction, letting you know that your latte will only be a few more minutes.

“Take your time,” you reassure, eyes sparkling as they move back across the table. Cassian wishes that Cerridwen would move out of the way so he can see who you’re smiling at. “I’m in no rush.”

And then she steps away and his world comes screeching to a halt.

He knows who was in that car with you because he’s sitting across from you right now, a fox-like smile on his face.

Eris Vanserra.

The most pretentious of the Vanserras, if Cassian does say so himself. They’ve never gotten along, mostly due to the fact that Eris is a raging, rich, dick and he’s from the boonies. The Vanserra’s are some of the wealthiest folk in town, their father, Beron, a successful farmer. They own half of the land in this town and then some.

He knows that Eris can take care of you, money wise, but does the asshole please you in bed? He looks like he’s all take and not give. He knows that Eris has a working car, a nice one too, so he doesn’t understand why you were driving him around that night, but it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment when all of the thoughts racing through his head incinerate with his anger.

Cassian’s fingers curl into fists.

Of course it’s Eris. Of. Fucking. Course. It. Is. It couldn’t have been anyone else? Not Bron or Hart or even Lucien? The nicest of the Vanserras? Cassian knows he’s been in a steady relationship with Elain since they were in middle school, but still. Isn’t it weird to be dating the brother of your sister's boyfriend? Cassian sure as fuck thinks so.

This is utterly ridiculous and he’s raging. He needs to get out of here before he picks up your latte and brings it over to you, shoving Eris further into the booth so he can slam his hands down on that table and yell, “Why him?”

Cassian abandons the idea of getting coffee and spins on his heel, ignoring some of the people who try to greet him, leaving the cafe as quickly as he can.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

“You knew?” he asks into the phone. The bite of pizza in his mouth turns to sludge and he feels betrayed, but he’ll let Azriel explain because surely his best friend hasn’t kept the fact that you’re seeing one of the Vanserra’s a secret from him.

Azriel shrugs, and something shuffles across the line. “I uh, I’ve been talking to Gwyn.”

Ah. So he’s finally trying to make a move on the fiery redhead from the library. He’s proud of Azriel on the inside, but it doesn’t reflect in his tone because he’s hurt by the subdued man’s actions.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“You never want to talk about her!” Cassian’s dumbstruck. He’s never heard Azriel so loud, irked by his sad nature. His mouth parts even though he doesn’t know how to respond but that’s more than okay because Azriel’s not finished yet. “It’s been months, Cass. You can’t expect her to wallow in sadness for the rest of her life.” And, ouch. That one felt like a direct shot at him. “She was bound to move on at some point and Eris treats her well enough, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It wasn’t, and that just stings more.

Cassian’s reply is quiet, throat tight. “I’ve got to go.”

Azriel sighs down the line, sensing he’s fucked up. “Cass—”

“No, it’s cool, Az. I’ve just got shit to do. I’ll talk to you later.” He hangs up on Azriel’s protest, making a face at the half eaten slice of pizza in his hand. Cassian tosses it back into the box and sits further back in his chair, running his fingers through his almost too-long hair.

Fuck. He can’t sit around and think about you and Eris together or he’ll actually go nuts. With a grunt he stands, swiping his keys from the bowl by the door. He has to work out his frustrations, and there’s only one thing that can help him with that.

He’ll go to work.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

“Cass?” Helion calls, “What are you doing here?”

“Just need to work off some frustration,” Cassian says, cringing at the hard edge to his voice. He flings his keys on the top of the tool box before slipping into his grease-stained shirt. He shoves his finger into the button to raise his car on the lift, snagging his safety-goggles from the shelf and sliding them on.

Helion appears, sliding back into the open doorway of his office, a teasing grin on his face. “You know, when I was your age, working off frustration meant—”

“Now’s really not the best time, Helion,” Cassian responds, taking his quarter inch wrench and walking beneath his car, examining the underside. He knows exactly what needs to be done, all of the parts that he can’t afford on his meager wages means that he has to purchase them slowly, one at a time, and it’s likely that the new parts will be worn in and rusted by the time he even comes close to finishing this project.

Fucking small towns.

“Girl troubles?”

Cassian shoots him a sour look that only makes the older man laugh. “Isn’t it always?”

“When I was young,” Helion starts again and Cassian rolls his eyes. The owner of the mechanics shop always starts his stories with variations of ‘When I was your age’ or ‘when I was young.’ It’s annoyingly endearing at the best of times, but right now, it’s down right infuriating, especially since Cassian wants to be alone. “I had a girl too. She was everything to me, and I had plans to marry her.” The older man's tone goes soft, longing, and Cassian pauses his work to look over. “A pretty thing, long, amber hair and all soft smiles…”

“What happened?” Cassian asks, but is weary, already sensing how this story might end.

Helion shrugs, as if after all of this time it doesn’t bother him. Clearly, it's not the case and Cassain wonders if this is his destiny, to end up like Helion, alone and longing for the woman he’s lost. His heart aches.

“She got away,” his boss answers sadly, eyes dull. “I couldn’t be who she wanted me to be, so she left me. Found herself someone better off than me.” Cassian wonders who it could be. Helion was born in this town and never left, never wanted to, but he’s not sure if it’s because the woman he is still so clearly in love with is here and he’s waiting for his chance to be with her, or if it’s because the man has nowhere else to go.

“Sounds similar to what I’m going through right now,” Cassian sighs, shoving his goggles up on his head. He’s clearly not going to get any work done, so he slumps into the extra chair by Helion's desk, a frown on his face. “Helion? Is there something you would do differently?”

The older man sighs, assessing him deeply. It makes Cassian shift uncomfortably in his seat.

And when he speaks, it’s exactly what Cassian needs to hear. “I would’ve gotten the hell out of dodge, had I been smart.”

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

The drink he had at Rita’s hadn’t been a good idea. His stomach is in knots, and the alcohol hadn’t helped loosen them in the slightest.

Is he really going to do this?

He had the entire night to think about his plans, his future. Had Helion been honest when he said that he should’ve left town to avoid the heartbreak that plagued him? Could skipping out actually help mend his aching heart?

It might be worth a shot.

Cassian’s backpack is light, stuffed with only the necessities. He’d called Rhys on his drive back to his apartment, and he’d offered him the second bedroom at his apartment for the summer if the Bronco could make it all the way up to New York.

It would be a change, a big one that makes his heart pound in his chest to even consider, but if fleeing town like a coward will help him heal from the breakup, it might be worth the shot.

He decides that he has enough money to make it to New York, and he’ll call Azriel when he gets there, or when he’s on the road and bored of seeing only the highway. He knows Az will be hurt, upset that he didn’t tell him in person, but he’s still mad at the quiet man for keeping your relationship with Eris a secret.

Azriel was being a good friend to you, that Cassian knows, but it still hurts. It hurts to think about Azriel hanging out with you and your sisters and their boyfriends, how he might even actually get along with Eris somehow. The thought of being friends with Eris Vanserra has always been foreign to Cassain.

He takes a last look around his apartment. Azriel will send down the rest of his stuff later, he knows it. His lease ends soon anyway, so if he’s going to leave town, now is the perfect time.

There isn’t anything in this apartment he’ll miss. He’d thrown away the things he kept from your relationship in a fit of rage when he found out about you and Eris. He’d regretted it immediately after.

Cassian loses a breath. A fresh start in a completely different state. This is what he needs.

He shuts off the lights and turns the knob one last time before stepping into the new chapter of his life. New York, here I come.

The streetlight spills through the open crack, illuminating the figure on the other side, hand poised to knock.

Cassian stills, hand so tight on the knob he thinks it might warp, the sight of you in his doorway a shocking surprise.

You’re twisting your fingers together nervously, shifting on your feet like you’re not sure what you’re doing here at all.

“Hey, Cass…”

#cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #modern!cassian #azsazz

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