𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: abby anderson x fem!reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: mdni, smut
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: basically just hate fucking
: ̗̀➛ [𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧] [𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭] [𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱]
𝐚/𝐧: this has been in my drafts for a while, and I finally got it to a point where I'm mostly happy with it
The old theatre isn’t just cold; it’s a sepulchre, the kind of damp chill that leeches the warmth from your very marrow and settles in your bones like a permanent regret. The feeble fire sputtering in the grate does nothing but paint dancing, mocking shadows on the walls, making the cavernous space feel more like a tomb than a refuge.
Every pop and hiss from the flames feels like a taunt.
Huddling near its pathetic warmth is out of the question—not with Abby Anderson holding court on the opposite side of the room. She’s a statue of coiled resentment, her glare potent enough to frost glass. You can feel the weight of it from here, a physical pressure against your skin. The silence between you isn't merely empty; it's an active, hostile entity, charged with every unspoken accusation and shared, bloody memory. You’re pretty sure she’d blame you if the sun failed to rise.
It’s broken only by the relentless shhh-click, shhh-click of her sharpening her knife. Each methodical stroke is a promise of violence, a sound that doesn't just grate on your nerves but methodically flays them, layer by layer. It’s the sound of your own control being whittled away, each scrape a little closer to the core.
"You’re grinding your teeth again."
Her voice is a low mutter, a throwaway line she doesn't even grace with a glance. The sound in your own jaw stops.
You hadn't even realized you'd started.
"And you’re breathing too loud," you snap back, the retort childish but laced with a venom that feels like your only weapon. You shift on the moth-eaten couch, and the ancient springs groan a pathetic chorus to your frustration. It’s been hours of this—a slow-burn war of attrition where clipped words are the artillery and hostile silence is the poisoned ground between your trenches.
But the real battle is a civil war waged inside your own skin. It’s a deep, restless ache coiling low in your belly, a throbbing heat between your legs that has nothing to do with the room's chill and everything to do with the cruel, biological timing of ovulation. It’s a traitorous pulse, a drumbeat of primal need that has somehow synced itself to the rhythm of her knife—a frantic, needy counterpoint to every shhh-click.
You squeeze your thighs together, a futile, punishing pressure to smother the feeling. The movement is subtle, or so you hope.
But Abby’s eyes flick up.
They’re like shards of flint in the gloom, and they miss nothing. You can feel her gaze like a physical touch, cataloguing the minute tremor in your leg, the white-knuckled grip you have on the worn cushion, the quickening of your breath you can’t quite hide. The air leaves the room, all of it sucked into the vortex of her attention.
A slow, dangerous smirk curls one side of her mouth. It’s not a smile. It’s the expression of a predator that has just scented blood in the water.
"That why you’ve been such a pain in my ass all day?" she asks, her voice a low, knowing rumble. It’s a sound that seems to vibrate straight through the floorboards and up into your bones, resonating with that traitorous pulse inside you. "All that pent-up… energy?"
Every muscle in your body locks rigid, a statue of pure defiance. Denial, brittle and transparent, is the only shield you have left. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit."
The word is a gunshot in the quiet room. In the same instant, her knife clatters onto the floorboards—a violent, final sound that makes you flinch. She rises, uncoiling to her full height, and rolls her shoulders with a deliberate, cracking looseness. It’s the motion of a beast, not just loosening its muscles, but savoring the moment before the pounce.
"You’ve been snippy. Impatient—fidgety all goddamn day." Her voice is a low growl as her gaze drags down your body. It’s a physical weight, more invasive than any touch, a scalpel peeling back layers of fabric and pretence. It lingers with brutal, humiliating precision right at the junction of your thighs, and you can feel the heat of that stare as if it were a brand. "And now," she concludes, her eyes snapping back up to yours, trapping you, "you're wound so tight you're practically vibrating. I can feel it from here."
Humiliation and desire flash-boil in your veins, a volatile chemical reaction that sets your cheeks on fire and steals the air from your lungs. "Fuck off, Anderson."
A low, derisive sound escapes her—not a laugh, but the rumble of a predator who’s heard a particularly pathetic challenge. She doesn’t fuck off. Instead, she closes the distance in three long, ground-eating strides, her presence swallowing the space until the world shrinks down to the worn fabric of the couch and the overwhelming reality of her.
She cages you in. One hand plants on the couch back by your head, the impact a soft, final thunderclap. The other grips your jaw, her calloused fingers and cool metal gear forcing your gaze up to hers. Her eyes are twin voids, blown with a fury that feels indistinguishable from lust, and in their dark reflection, you see the terrified, wanting thing you've become.
"Maybe if I shut you up properly," she growls, her breath a hot, damp brand against your cheek, "you won't be such a pain in my ass tomorrow."
You barely have time to process the words—the dark promise coiled within them—before her hands are on you again. They are rough and impatient, a force of nature that shoves your thighs apart without ceremony. The coarse fabric of your pants grates against your oversensitized skin, a brutal friction that is somehow both punishment and a tease. A sharp, cold shock punches the air from your lungs as she yanks them down your hips, just enough, baring you to the chill, dusty air and the infinitely hotter, searing focus of her gaze.
"Abby—" It’s half-gasp, half-plea, your voice stripped of all its earlier defiance, reduced to something raw and exposed.
"Quiet." Her command is a low rumble that doesn't just enter your ears but seems to vibrate through the floorboards and settle deep in your core, commanding a stillness that your traitorous body is all too willing to obey. Her calloused thumb, rough and unyielding, presses against your lower lip, a silent, threatening mimicry of the touch you both know is coming elsewhere. It’s a claim and a warning all in one. "You’ve been pissing me off all day." Her voice drops, laced with a dark, possessive intent. "Time you made yourself useful."
Her mouth is on you before you can even draw breath to retort, hot and relentless, and fuck—she is obscenely, infuriatingly good at this. It isn't pleasure; it's a tactical strike. Your back arches off the couch, a bowstring pulled taut, a silent scream caught in the cage of your throat as her tongue—broad and deliberate—drags through your folds. It’s a cruel, knowing pressure that isn't just mapping your weak spots—it's cataloguing them for systematic demolition.
"You’re—ah!—you’re such an asshole," you gasp, your fingers fisting in the short, sweat-damp strands of her hair. The gesture is a battle in itself, every tendon straining with the paradox of it: the desperate, animal urge to shove her away warring with the clawing need to lock her in place forever.
Abby chuckles against you, the vibration a direct, taunting shockwave that erupts in your core and sends an involuntary jerk through your entire body. "And yet," she murmurs, her voice a thick, muffled hum against your most sensitive skin, "you're dripping all over my tongue." She pulls back just enough to nip at your inner thigh, a sharp, possessive sting that blooms with pain and promise, a hair's breadth from breaking the skin. "Guess I win."
You hate her. The sentiment is a fire in your veins, pure and simple. You hate the smug certainty saturating her voice, the way it drips with the knowledge that she's already won. You hate the bite of her thick, strong fingers as they dig into the soft flesh of your hips, branding you with their grip, pinning you down for her feast and rendering you utterly, shamefully immobile.
She laps at you like she's starving, a creature devouring its due, and the most humiliating part—the part that makes shame burn hotter than any pleasure—is how your body arches and yields in response. It betrays you completely, responding like this is the offering it was always meant to receive, a primal language it understands far better than reason or pride.
The world narrows, then shatters. It dissolves into the slick, hot friction of her mouth, the ruthless, rhythmic pressure that erases every other thought. There is only the feeling, and the burning coil of tension winding tighter and tighter in your gut—a pleasure so sharp it borders on agony, so intense it feels like being flayed alive.
"Abby—please—" The word is torn from you, a ragged white flag you never intended to raise, a surrender to the sensation that is systematically dismantling you.
"Please what?" She pulls back just enough to watch you come undone, her lips glistening with your own arousal—a liquid, damning proof of your betrayal. Her gaze is dark, utterly triumphant. "Can't take it?" Her thumb finds your clit, circling it with a quick, ruthless rhythm that feels less like a caress and more like a final, inescapable interrogation. "After all your bitching today," she taunts, her voice a low thrum against your trembling thigh, "I figured you'd be tougher."
You choke on a moan, the sound strangled in your throat as any protest is violently erased by the sensation of her diving back in. This time, there is no teasing. She sucks, hard—a direct, targeted assault on your very sanity that shatters your last vestige of control. There is no more thought, no more hate, no more you. There is only the cataclysm.
Your vision splinters into blinding white static as you come with a broken, ragged cry that sounds like it belongs to someone else. Your body seizes, back arching off the couch as a shockwave of pure, unbearable sensation tears through you, wringing you out and leaving you hollow in its wake.
But she doesn't stop.
If anything, she doubles down, her arm becoming an unforgiving iron bar across your hips, anchoring you to the storm. She doesn't just guide you through the violent peak; she drags you, kicking and sobbing, straight into the shuddering, oversensitive abyss on the other side. The pleasure curdles, souring into a near-unbearable sensitivity where each flick and stroke of her tongue is a lightning strike on raw, exposed nerves. Sobs you don't recognize as your own wrack your chest, a convulsive mix of overwhelming sensation and sheer, utter defeat.
You're trembling, a leaf in a hurricane, trying to twist away from the agonizing onslaught. But she holds fast, a relentless, immovable force proving a point you're no longer coherent enough to understand.
"Stay still."
The order is a guttural growl against the tender skin of your inner thigh, the vibration traveling straight through your flesh and bone to settle in your soul. A pathetic, broken whimper escapes you, a sound torn violently in two. One half is a desperate, animal need to escape the overwhelming sensation; the other is the terrifying, shameful realisation that you never, ever want her to stop. This is your ruin, and it is exquisite.
Your hips give a final, helpless, involuntary jerk—a last, futile protest from a body that no longer listens to you. Her response is immediate and absolute. One of her powerful arms hooks under your thigh, and with a grunt of effort, she slams you back down, pinning you to the couch with brutal, final efficiency. The fight drains out of you in a single, shuddering exhale. You are utterly, completely at her mercy, and the terrifying knowledge is the most potent drug you have ever known.
"Fuck—fuck, Abby—!"
Her name is a broken prayer and a shattered curse on your lips, torn from a place deep within your throat as her tongue delves into you again. This time, it’s not just a lick; it’s a claiming. She laps at you with a frantic, single-minded intensity, as if you're the only source of water in a desert and she's a woman dying of thirst. A low, approving hum rumbles in her chest, a sound of pure satisfaction, as if she's savouring the very taste of your own treacherous, leaking desire. The vibration is exquisitely cruel, a deliberate, calculated tactic that short-circuits your nerves and has fractured light bursting behind your eyelids.
"Pretty little cunt," she murmurs. The words are a hot, damp caress against your throbbing, most sensitive skin. The profanity is so casual, so utterly possessive, it doesn't just send a shudder through you—it feels like she's carving her ownership into your very soul with the words. To prove her point, she drags the blunt, threatening edge of her teeth over your swollen, over-sensitized clit, a mockery of a kiss designed solely to hear the ragged keen it rips from your lungs.
"Soaked for me," she breathes, the observation a triumphant verdict. "Bet you’d let me do anything to you right now, huh?" Her voice is a dark, knowing whisper that slithers into your ear and coils in your gut.
synopsis – after years on the road, you and joel finally settle in jackson and there's nothing you love more than coming back from work to your old man wearing those glasses.
smut. fluff
the last of us masterlist
after traveling what felt like the entire world following joel, you both finally decided to settle down in jackson. it was peaceful, a not so small community anymore where you could breathe again, where you could do more than just survive. eat three meals a day. sleep through the night without one eye open. and with all that peace came space, to feel, to think, to finally let yourself consider what had been quietly building between you and joel all this time.
he was reluctant at first. the age gap weighed on him more than it ever did on you. you’d never brought it up, never even seemed to notice it in the ways he did. but you two had lived too much together since you first started traveling with ellie. that kind of bond didn’t come easily. yet joel didn’t think he had the right to want something as soft, as tender, as the love you showed him. and jackson helped him with that. the town gave him the kind of peace he never thought he’d earn. and slowly, as the years passed, joel softened and started to accept the life he deserved and appreciate the little things.
the way you massaged his shoulders after a long day of work, the way he always made sure you were warm in the mornings when he had to leave early, how you'd wake up tucked beneath an extra blanket. you built a life together made up of shared breakfasts and quiet evenings walking through the snow-covered streets of jackson, of fixing things around the house side by side, of laughter in the kitchen when something burned, and the way he'd kiss your temple like it didn’t matter.
—hi, —you said coming into the house. joel looked up from where he was sitting at the table, glasses low on his nose, hands busy with something that needed to be fixed. his eyes softened the second he saw you.
—hey, darlin’, —he said, —you’re back early.
—yeah, the snow is getting worst, there wasn't much we could do in the garden, —you replied, shrugging off your coat and hanging it up by the door.
joel gave a small nod, eyes following your every move, —i figured, —he said, —how’s the ground looking? any chance we can save anything before the winter really sets in?
you sighed, taking a moment to pull off your gloves and slide them into your pocket. —a few plants are holding up, but it’s mostly the cold that’s making it tough. i’m thinking of giving it another shot in the spring, once everything starts to warm up.
joel hummed. you approached him and hugged him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. his hand, still holding the small tool, paused for a second before he gently placed it down, he took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.
—how was your day? —you asked.
—good, busy. dina told me the cracked main lines are full of roots. should've checked them but i forgot, —he rubbed his hands over his face, clearly annoyed with himself. you could see how much he cared about getting things right, about showing that he was still capable, still useful. he picked the piece again and fidgeted with it.
—it's okay, you can get it done tomorrow. the main lines aren't going to move, —you reassured him, your voice gentle, as you smoothed your hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm.
—yeah, you’re right. tomorrow’s another day, —the therapy sessions were working, somehow, because never in your life would you have imagined the joel you first met would learn to take things slow.
you kissed his cheek, his beard tickling your lips, as your hand slid slowly over his chest. you couldn't help but smile at how lost he was in the task, not even seeming to notice the way you were touching him. you pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, letting your lips pressed there for just a second before pulling back.
—joel, —you murmured. your fingers brushed against his before you gently took the small tool from him and set it on the table. you moved closer, slipping one knee over his lap, easing yourself down until you were straddling him. —are you planning on working all night?
joel's hands instinctively found your hips, steadying you, surprised but not willing to stop you. —was just about done here, —he said, —then i was gonna give you every bit of my attention. but i see you've got other plans for me.
you loved how he looked with the glasses low on his nose, made him look more domestic, but you gently slid them off, folding them and setting them on the table. his eyes followed the movement, then back up to yours, darker now but entirely focused.
—thought you liked those, —he murmured.
—i do, —you whispered, —but i'm afraid they might get in the way.
he hummed, his eyes fixed on your lips.
you unbuttoned the flannel he wore beneath his jacket. he watched you, barely breathing, his hands still resting on your hips but his thumbs began to trace soft circles through the fabric of your jeans. you sighed softly as the last button came undone, revealing his body. your hand moved over his chest, tracing the old, pale scars that marked his skin. your eyes moved lower, taking in the softness of his belly, the way he relaxed under your gaze instead of tensing. you bit your lower lip, what if you said this was the sexiest he has ever looked?
—i couldn't wait to get back home to you, —you brushed your nose against his, you hips started rolling against his own. joel swallowed, his hands flexed where they held you, fingers tightening just a little.
—yeah? —he asked, his voice low, a little gruff.
you nodded, and your lips finally met his in a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen all day. it was desperate, needy, but slow and passionate. your fingers sank into the soft, graying hair at the back of joel’s head, tugging gently, needing him closer. he groaned low in his throat, his hands working hungrily on the zipper of your jeans.
you lifted your hips from his so he could slid your jeans down your legs and immediately after, you straddled him again. as your fingers worked on the buckle of his belt and then unzipped his pants, joel's big hands cupped your ass, pushing you forward and encouraging you to grind against his crotch.
you whined, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans through the thin one of your panties. you pulled down his underwear, just enough for his cock to sprung free. you connected your lips with his again, his hands now on your cheeks as you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan.
you took all of him. joel let his head rest on your shoulder as his hands traveled down your body to your hips. he helped you move, at first just rocking your body back and forth against his. your lips, half parted pressed together, made it easier for your breaths to mingle. then, you lifted your body and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again.
—fuck, yeah, just like that, —joel groaned in your ear.
you tried not to be so loud, you didn't want to attract anyone's attention or cause a scandal. but your cries and his moans eventually echoed on the walls of your living room every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.
joel rose from the chair in one fluid motion, his strong hands holding your weight. with a sweep of his arm, tools and scraps went to the floor, forgotten. he laid you down on the now-cleared table, the wood cool against your back, contrast to the heat building between you as his cock never left your body.
—did so good for me, now let me take care of you, hm?
he grabbed your thighs with firm hands and guided your legs around his waist so he could go deeper. your heels pressed into his lower back as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. the table cracked with each one of his thrusts and you feared it might break, it wouldn't be the first time joel would need to ask his brother for help in repairing a piece of furniture that you had broken since your arrival in jackson.
one of his hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit, his fingers moving fast and with urgency as he felt how you were getting tighter and tighter. you closed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy from all the panting as your body jerked and squeezed his own between your legs as you came. after that, he didn't last much longer and released himself inside you.
you both stayed there for a few minute. joel rested on top of you and with your legs still around him, you welcomed the weight of his body pressing you down onto the table. you played with his hair as he finally looked at you. you showed him a little smile and he gave a quick kiss to your lips.
—my body's gonna hurt so much tomorrow from this.
you giggled, —i'll make sure to give you the best massage ever.
you showed him a little smile, and he gave you a quick kiss to your lips. but as you pulled away, both of you noticed the mess of tools and pieces scattered across the floor, the work joel had been focused on before everything had shifted between you.
—i'm afraid you're gonna have to start all over again.
Summary — Secluded evenings with Ellie are always perfect. You aren’t expecting this one to end the way it does.
Warnings — Allusions to Sex/Smut, Cheating/Adultery/Whatever-You-Wanna-Call-It, Ellie’s an asshole, Briefly mentioned age gap (Reader is 22, Ellie is 30), Angstttttt. this is just angst.
a note from me — angst is so cathartic and fun to write i just couldn’t help myself. (also this has been in my drafts for months) (also also this isn’t proofread im sorry)
Room 409 at the Starlight Hotel contained a decadent assortment of sights and smells. Lavender cleaning solution, the faintest wisp of pure black coffee, and now, the alluring scent of Ellie’s cologne. Some fancy edition of Bleu de Chanel that only requires a single spritz to latch on to her skin.
A number of things tell you that this particular rendezvous will be nothing like the ones before. You had been walking out of class after a distinctly gruesome exam when a message from her pinged your phone.
Can you meet me at our room tonight? I need to talk to you.
Ellie never needed to talk. Sure, when you met her every other week behind these four walls, she did speak. I missed you. You been good while I was away? Do something different with your hair? Never anything that the phrase, I need to talk to you usually implied.
Secondly, Ellie had shown up before you did, as evidenced by the sight of her languidly pacing about the room.
She doesn’t greet with a soft smirk and her usual, Hey baby. Her features don’t slack with relief. She doesn’t even look happy to see you.
That can’t be, you inwardly decide. The room is only brightened by a splash of yellow light emanating from a bedside lamp. Perhaps she only looks so glum because you can hardly see her.
Then lastly, you spot it just before she shoves her hands into her pockets. It’s wrapped perfectly around the soft skin of her left ring finger. Gleaming gently under the soft light, commanding your attention. Look at me, it practically begs.
“Hi,” You shuffle off your jacket and kick your Uggs into a corner. She’d have pounced on you by now. Ellie has never been one for wasting time, especially when the time you do have is sparse at best. She knows this as well as you. After an ardent round of newly-reunited copulation, she likes to pull you into an embrace against her sweaty chest. The swift pumping of her heart pours into your ear, lulling you into sleepiness, just before she whispers, “I wish it could be like this all the time.” It can be, you think. Don’t you know that it can be?
“Miss me?” You ask, folding your jacket over the chair in the corner of the room before making your way over to the bed. A hint of a smile graces her features for a whisper of a moment. You see it hiding deep within the sprinkles of sepia in her eyes.
“You know I did,” She scoffs. “I always do.”
You plop onto the edge of the bed, right in front of the space where she’s halted her pacing. She steps closer to you, caging her legs within yours. Just the warmth radiating off her body fills yours with immeasurable calm. “Yeah, we’ll usually you’d have said it by now. Two hundred times, at least.”
Ellie looks amazing as always, clad in deep brown button up and simple dark jeans. Her cuffs are rolled up her arms, stopping just beneath her elbows and exposing the sprawl of ink covering her forearm. “We need to talk,” She murmurs, “It’s about Dina.”
And just like that, the carefree—albeit mildly paranoid—demeanor you walked in with ebbs with all the ceremony of a weakening heartbeat.
You carry no ill will toward Ellie’s wife. That is, if you aren’t counting the soul-eating envy that infects every part of your soul whenever you so much as think of her. It didn’t help that the name Dina was never followed or preceded by good news.
While she’s shoving your skirt down your legs—We gotta be quick, okay? I’m supposed to be having dinner with Dina later. As you languid suck your lips over her jugular—Be careful with that, don’t want Dina seeing. Ellie’s wrapping her arms around you, burying her face within the crook of your neck—I wanna savor this night. Dina and I leave for Nantucket tomorrow.
“Okay,” You go completely still in anticipation, your head swirling with a hurricane of possibilities. Is she okay? Is she sick or something? Does she know about us? “…any day now.”
Your gazes meet, and you take that opportunity to search Ellie’s eyes for an answer. “Shit,” She whispers, voice peppered with what sounds like defeat. The slight movements of her facial muscles reveal the barely-there crows feet behind her eyes. Even while teetering around the edge of some unmentionable thing, she’s still so beautiful that it makes you lightheaded. “She wants to start trying for a baby.”
Your mouth goes arid as your process the confession. She wants to start trying for a baby. “What?” You say. It’s the only thing you can say. “What do you mean?” You ask the question with the naïveté of a child who had no idea where babies even came from.
“She brought it up a few weeks ago—”
“—A few weeks?” You try to think of where you were a few weeks ago. Studying for an exam, applying for internships, texting Ellie affectionate words of how greatly you missed her and how you couldn’t wait to see her again. Well, you think, I’m seeing her again. “What’d you tell her?”
Ellie’s silence is deafening. Her eyes carry an undercurrent of fear, as though she’s the child on the receiving end of a scolding.
“Did you tell her what you told me?” Your voice unearths from your throat with a soft tremor. “That you’re in love with someone else? That you’ve been planning on leaving for months now?”
“Baby, I—” They’re the first two words she’s said in a while, but they do the opposite of whatever she intends.
“Don’t.” You raise to your feet, but the action doesn’t feel as powerful as you would like it to. It feels like your connection to Ellie is waning with every bit of anger that flows through you. But you don’t want that. You don’t want to be angry at her. You never do. You want her to tell you this is all some sick, elaborate joke. You want her to tell you she’s leaving her wife. “What did you tell her?” You plead.
“Can you just let me explain?” Ellie pulls her hands from her pockets in pursuit of encircling your wrists. The sight of her wedding band slices a fresh line through your heart. “Please?”
“What is there to explain, Ellie? I thought your marriage was on the rocks, I—”
“It’s not that simple.” Her tone is soft and firm, as though being eight years your senior makes her the authority in this situation.
“Yes, it is.” You push past her to get your jacket, shoving your feet into your boots soon after. “You’re just a fucking coward.”
You storm out of the room before you the first tear falls, fully aware that a cascade of other will quickly follow it.
Your phone buzzes fervently the whole way down, with texts from Ellie, undoubtedly. As you speed through the hall, down the elevator, and into your car. It doesn’t stop until you power your phone off, forcing yourself to sit within the suffocating silence of everything that just happened.
𖦹 synopsis: patient reader doesn't know who she is, where she is or how she got there. she's monitored by scientist joel miller who knows much more than he'll tell her. how dedicated can joel stay to his cause when he falls in love with her?
𖦹 warnings: human experimentation, handcuffs, guards (implied and discussions of mistreatment by them), lack of privacy, surveillance, lots of crying, Stockholm syndrome, hallucinations, panic attacks, arguing, use of needles, suffering from withdrawal, extreme pain, yelling at animals, metaphors for struggling with addiction.
no pressure tags: (interacted with my other posts so u might like this one !!) :> : @mcthsman @littledes1re @annastasia2055 @glittergrenade @foxispunk @moonlitsmile @bemyluvr @isabella-rose-trastamara @beardropascal @miss-celestial-being @ainhoetaaa @finco99
chapter one // chapter two.
𖦹 wc: 5.8k ( two part series )
FILE #365
[AUDIO TRANSCRIPTION]
- "This is Doctor code zero zero one, this is file three six five. Can you please state your name for the record?"
-
- "Can you please give a response for the record?"
- [incoherent]
- "Please raise your voice for the records."
- [pause] "I don't know my name."
- "This is patient code zero zero four version six five. Assessment begins at timestamp eighteen hours and one minute."
- "This assessment will be a series of non provoking questions to test your general knowledge and memory. Score to proceed?"
- [pause] "What?"
- "Score to proceed?"
- "Score?"
- "The subject's memory has seemingly decreased since the last assessment.
- "Score for the records. How would you rate your memory and mood before we proceed with the assessment? Ten is a perfect score, zero is the opposite. Score to proceed?"
- "How would you define perfect?"
- [pause] "I'm sorry?"
- "Is perfect a healthy memory or a lack of one?"
-
- "What are you testing for?"
[REMAINING AUDIO LOST]
File 365
Patient code 004 version 65
Doctor code 001
“Is perfect a healthy memory or a lack of one? what are you testing for?” you persisted.
He gathered back up his papers, dropping them down on the surface to straighten them out.
“That is your question to answer.” He was being dismissive, not wanting to sway you towards one answer more than another.
Maybe it was your question. What were you even here for? Maybe the test is to see what you think is happening?
“What’s my name?” you wanted to know everything you could, choosing to start off with the easier questions.
“Your patient code is zero zero four version-”
“My name. Not my code.”
He must've thought of you as stubborn. This version of you was much more curious and a lot less knowledgeable. Various commands were likely muttering through his ear piece, alternative phrases of how to further avoid the question.
“Like freya, daisy, mia. Real names.”
“What made you list those names?”
“Is one of them my name?”
“That is your qu-” “my question to answer, i know.”
He cleared his throat. You had never been this verbal before. You weren't afraid like you used to be and he didn't know how to handle it.
There was a new glint in your eye, a sense of hatred. It wasn't directed at him necessarily, maybe it was the machine recording the conversation that you hated. Maybe it was the security cameras or maybe it was the note paper.
You were convinced your name was written down somewhere. It was easier to try and steal the paper and find it than it was to pull it out of your subconscious.
“what about you?” you inquired.
“I'm assuming you don't mean my doctor code.”
“You know what I'm asking.”
He smirked at the passive aggression. This was also new. “If i tell you my name can you tell me yours?”
“But I don't know my name.”
“Lie.”
The machine’s whirring was a little louder. Maybe it was from the lack of noise you considered, but it felt different - like it wasn’t doing its job properly. You strained yourself to not look towards it, to not investigate. The session would end if you did and you had plenty more questions to ask.
“Lie? You mean I choose my name?”
“You can choose what I call you.”
“Are you going to tell me your real name?”
“If you like.”
The atmosphere had changed.
You felt as if you were going to gain an advantage which was a tell tale sign that you didn't actually have one. You were missing something, but you were far more curious about the information you were going to gain than try to get a proper read on the situation.
You stared in a request for him to do so, he gave you a small smile and a quick sigh.
“Joel.”
“Joel?”
“Yes.”
It felt harmless. You could tell he was somewhat embarrassed, a pinkish tint in his cheeks that wasn't there before. He clearly hadn't expected to like hearing you say his name as much as he did.
“And your name?” he questioned, making the deal you had even.
“Can you choose?” he shook his head in response, but it wasn't enough for you to give up. “But I want you to.”
“I can't do that.”
“Well, why not?”
“It is for you to tell me.”
He saw a glint of anger in your eyes, maybe it was just vague irritation and he was reading too far into it, he thought.
“I'm your lab rat but you won't give me a name.” or maybe he thought wrong.
He wasn't supposed to upset you. He had rules to limit the information you had and received which unfortunately came before your happiness. The last thing he wanted was for you to hate him, but he had a role to fulfill.
“I don't know which would be worse, if you called me a rat or a bunch of meaningless numbers.”
The resentment was building up. It was overwhelming even for you, the quick snaps between emotions but the consistent confusion, the consistent lack of information you had.
“What would you like me to call you?” he interrupted your spiralling train of thoughts.
“My name.”
He smiled in answer, fueling your upset further. It was a single piece of information and he couldn't even give you that. Did he enjoy your confusion that much?
“I’d have to think about it.”
The tension faded out, relaxing the furrowing of your eyebrows from a small sense of hope.
He saw your change in emotion, boosting his own enjoyment in the process. That was until he heard the static of the machine. The small red light was flickering unevenly, clearly no longer fulfilling its purpose. He hadn't noticed it the whole time.
Joel looked towards you to notice a hint of uneasiness, you knew the session was going to have to end before he even processed it himself. A frown formed on his face.
“Session end time at eighteen hours-”
“Stop!” you interrupted.
“I have to end the session for today.”
“That's not fair, I'm not done! I still don't know anything!”
“You know my name.”
“Thats not enough, i have more questions!”
He arose from his seat, you wanted to mimic his action until you felt the tug of handcuffs attached to your wrists. You hadn't even noticed that you were tied to the metal bars poking out from the middle of the table. Your emotions once again were rapidly switching.
“Session end time at eighteen hours and twenty six minutes. Abrupt ending due to technical malfunction.”
Joel made a note of it and you pictured a team of people listening in from a viewing window doing the same. He gathered all belongings and tucked his chair in.
The guards stormed into the room abruptly, heading directly towards you to remove handcuffs and pull you out of the room so that Joel could follow along after you.
He felt more guilty than he usually did. You typically didn't convey fear of anger, now you showed every emotion possible. You even wanted to keep talking, so did Joel.
The last thing you remembered of that day was calling out his name as you were dragged out, his attempted emotionless demeanor faltering as a guilty frown settled on his face.
File 366
Patient code 004 version 66
“How are you feeling today?”
There was obvious tension in the room, your glare gave Joel a twisted sense of pride. You'd wanted him to stay last session but he couldn't; you’d genuinely missed him. He shouldn't have felt happy with himself the way he did, but he held back a grin regardless.
“You want a score?” your passive aggressiveness shone through your words vividly. He nodded in response. “I still don't understand what I'm scoring.”
“Your mood, your memory. Everything overall.”
You watched the corner of his mouth twitch, gleeful with anticipation. The machine was whirring, working to full capacity unlike yesterday. His grip on his pen was slightly tighter, he was a little happier but much more tense. Was he nervous?
“Can I read your notes?”
“Can I have a score?”
You cocked your head a little to the side and let out a quick laugh. “Are you sassing me now?”
“I just asked a question.”
You lunged for the papers. ‘Patient code 004 version 65’ - last session. ‘Patient shows elevated signs of anger, confusion and memory loss. Persistent requests for personal information-’ He gripped it back off you.
“I wasn't done reading.”
“I am aware.”
You fiddled with the cuffs, a little tighter today than you remember them being.
It was probably your apparent ‘heightened emotions’ that caused them to take extra precautions. It sucked to be tied to a stupid table altogether, it felt demoralising. The whole thing did, and you still didn't understand a single thing that was happening.
In contrast, Joel stared at you expectantly, but it softened your guard just a little. The idea of being some kind of special gave you a sick kind of warm feeling, he found you interesting. He was curious. You wanted to feed into that.
“Can I ask you questions?”
“You may but I can't guarantee the answers you want.” he answered carefully and cautiously.
“Can you guarantee the truth?”
“I cannot.”
You bit your lip a little in thought before continuing. “Can you at least take these off me?”
You pulled up your hands, the rattle of the handcuffs against the table’s metal bar sent Joel's attention to them, probably waiting for an answer in his ear piece you guessed, as he scanned your eyes to figure out your aim.
The door opened abruptly, a guard walked through hurriedly. He looked exhausted, irritated. You sat yourself on the edge of your chair as much as you could, with full fear and heavy breathing you feared the worst. You yelled at him to stop, that you weren't done with the session. You felt a different hand on your shoulder.
“It's okay.” he whispered, standing over you.
You turned your head towards him, watching Joel give you a small smile and watched as he placed the separated handcuffs that must've been handed to him, onto the table.
You felt kind of pathetic, misreading the situation. Joel's hand didn't move, he wouldn't until he was sure your emotions were stable.
“Thought he was gonna take me.” you mumbled, sniffing and looking away from Joel, almost zoning out as you looked to the corner of the room.
“The session isn't over yet.”
“Well, it wasn't last time as that didn't stop you.”
He moved his hand, leaving a colder feeling than you started with. He sat himself back down, across from you and staring. You mindlessly stared, your words felt harsh but they weren't untrue.
“Do you dislike when the sessions end?”
Your mind brought you back to every time a guard had walked into a room, the dragging and pushing into walls, the yelling. The way they threw you around. More aggressive than they would be with even a science rat. They treated you worse than an animal.
Joel’s words were calming, sometimes irritable but there was still a lack of malice. He showed you different values than everyone else did.
You could only nod at him, the full extent of truth to the statement couldn't be expressed in a simple answer, especially when you'd just learnt that they were always listening in.
Joel arose from his seat once again, a hint of anger or determination in his eyes. He somewhat marched to the door and unlocked it. You had to turn in your seat to look towards him.
“Come with me.” he gestured towards the hallway.
“Am i in trouble?”
He shook his head.
The corridor felt a little different now that you weren't as terrified. However, the cracks in the aging ceiling didn't help to maintain your calm.
“The walls are blue.”
Realising he hadnt responded, you turned around to see him as usual staring blankly and confused.
“You didn't know?”
“I don't really get time to appreciate the scenery when I'm being dragged.”
Joel hummed quietly, more to himself. “Where would you like to go?”
You whipped your head around quickly in shock. “I can pick?”
“You may.”
You peered down either side of the hallway, no obvious indicators on what led to where. You were still too confused to revel in the new opportunity. Weren't you supposed to be monitored? Isn't that exactly why the session had ended last time - because they weren't able to monitor you properly? You couldn't verbalise this confusion.
While it was doubtful he had forgotten they needed to have a record of the conversation, you weren't going to point out an error in case it once again would put a halt to the session.
You stepped a little closer, using your tiptoes to reach and whisper into one of his ears that you noticed didn't have an earpiece, shielding your mouth as you did.
“Are they listening?”
He hesitated but nodded.
“Where?”
He opened the door to a room you could barely call a door with how it blended into the walls.
By the look of everyone's faces, this had not been approved. The looks of horror, confusion and intimidation. For once you weren't the one scared.
“Introduce yourselves.” Joel commanded the various workers.
There were computers, lots of headphones and obnoxiously large ear pieces that they'd begun taking out slowly as the conversation it played was now right in front of them.
You looked to the window on the left wall, showing the meeting room that you and Joel had just been in. you knew they could hear but you weren’t sure if they could see it all. The uneasiness refused to settle in your stomach.
Joel shot everyone a glare at their hesitancy, choosing to take initiative and introduce everyone to you himself.
Doctor White had white hair, Anderson was the only woman, and clearly the eldest in the room. Jones stared too much for comfort, causing you to lean into Joel and he held you closer in acknowledgement. He sensed your overwhelm after the one sided conversation, walking you back out of the room.
He absent-mindedly shut it harshly, leaning down to stare directly at you.
“See? You don't have anything to worry about. There’s no robots or aliens, we aren't here to hurt you.”
You couldn't respond, overstimulation creeping in.
“We monitor you. You know what that means? We look out for you, yeah? We take care of you.”
You shook your head, mental images of all the pain flicking through your head.
“No you don't. You leave. That's what you do. You care as much as you have to and then you leave.”
He reached his hand towards your face in an attempt to caress and comfort but you smacked his hand away.
“It's like I don't matter when I'm not talking to you. I feel like-”
“A rat?”
You nodded, tears brimming your waterline. He reached his hand back to wipe your tears, this time you let him.
“Do you want to see them?”
“See who?” you sniffed.
“The rats.”
They looked far more innocent, and much less free. Walking back and forth between their limited walls just as you had, until today. Pale white and loud as they squeaked in harmony with each other. One of them peered up at you, as if it could read your mind and feel your emotions.
Joel reached towards its cage as he stood behind you, unlocking the hatch and pulling it out.
You watched him stroke the rat, it showed no fear or hatred, it wasn't afraid of him either.
“Hold out your hand,” he instructed.
You followed his command, slightly shocked at the unfamiliar texture of its fur.
“You've met this one before.”
“I have?” you didn't look away from the animal, entranced by its movements from the palm of your hands and up the length of your arm.
“A long time ago. We did different types of sessions then.”
“What types are there?”
“That guy was involved in the sensory sessions. Various new objects each time to see how you responded and-”
“He's not an object.” your eyes squinted from his slight insult. Joel chuckled at your defensiveness.
“You're right, I should’ve rephrased.”
You nodded to acknowledge his apology.
“Would you like to keep him?”
You nodded profusely, finally a genuine wide grin on your face that Joel reciprocated.
“Our session does have to end-”
“No!” you halted, bringing the rat closer to you as if he had attempted to snatch it away. You stepped further away from Joel also.
“It has to-”
“No! This is exactly what i said! You leave me! Thats all you do!”
“Listen to me.” he put his hands out to his side in an attempt to ask for forgiveness. “It's not permanent. It's never permanent. If i always leave i always come back right?”
“You don't understand.” you choked a sob. “They hurt me, Joel. When they take me away from you, they hurt me-”
“I understand. I know-”
You scoffed, staring with complete disgust.
“You know? You let them do it-”
“No, but I'm not going to let it happen again.”
You tried desperately to blink away your tears before they fell.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Please don't lie to me-” you let out a harsh sob, reaching your free hand to your mouth in an attempt to hold back the noise. You fell to the floor, kneeling as you cried rivers.
The rat was somehow unfazed, only looking up at you to see the source of the noise. Eventually it crawled out your hands, walking slowly across the tile floors as you continued sobbing.
Joel crouched down to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder and reach your arms behind his neck.
He held you close, letting you sob against him as he tried to calm his anger at the events that had unfolded in his lack of constant surveillance.
Once you settled down a little more, you rested gently against him. He retrieved the rat back and handed it to you, letting you continue admiring it while your final tears fell.
“I'm not going to lie to you anymore. I truly promise you that.”
File 367
Patient code 004 version 67
A hand startled you awake.
You pushed the shadowy figure away, scrambling around to push off the heels of your toes to reach the corner where your bed and the wall met. You braced yourself - forearms shielding your face and cradling yourself in the fetal position.
The silence was loud. no second contact or voices, just the sound of your own heartbeat.
You flattened your palms over your face, slowly turning to face the other side of the room blindly. you cautiously parted your fingers and peaked through the gaps. the same blank walls you'd been left with the night before.
nothing had moved or changed; unless you counted the sinking feeling in your stomach.
you tried to pull the covers tight around yourself. swallowing down the frog in your throat as you tried to maintain your calm despite the frustrating uncooperative behaviour of the material.
you pulled it out from under your limbs where it was stuck, beginning to rush your movements without being entirely sure why.
the abrupt sounds froze you in fear.
it repeated again, two knocks on your wooden door. do you open it? do you hide? do you-
he pushed it open and stared blankly at you.
“you okay?”
Joel was carrying a tray of various breakfast foods, stood awkwardly, letting the door shut itself. he placed everything down on the floor by your bed, movements slow as if you were a spooked animal.
his confusion turned to concern. your unresponsive wide blinking eyes held his as he sat beside you.
your chest rose with your deepening breaths, desperate to ask questions but an inability to do so. Joel didnt push, eyes gentle and patient.
you parted your lips to speak but its as if you had swallowed them, forcing only a choked sob out. pressing your lips together and gripping Joels shirt sleeve, you tried to regain control.
your blood ran hot. infection running through your veins like acid, melting you down and killing you in a split moment.
he placed his palm gently against your cheek, the same hand you were gripping the wrist of.
you punched at your own chest.
nothings working. fix it. please fix it. fix it.
Joel grabbed your other hand, protecting you from yourself.
his mouth moved but you couldnt hear him. you choked on your own breaths.
Joels chest rose in exaggerated movements, eyes focused solely on you as he tried to encourage you.
he shifted your hand onto his chest. very subtle but nonetheless there, you felt his heartbeat. you subconsciously mimicked his breathing.
“you're okay,” you finally heard him. and it broke you.
tears streamed down your face as you mumbled your way through an explanation.
“someone was here” you cried out. “he grabbed me- he grabbed me-”
Joel cradled your face in his palm, catching your tears with his thumb.
“No one was here, i promise.”
“I felt it.”
He tilted your head to look at him. “You’re safe. No one was here, okay? Its just me. Its just me.”
“I didnt see him but i- i felt it- i dont wanna feel it-”
He pulled you close to him to cradle you, to held onto him tightly. Joel was a little shaky, a hint of guilt in his grasp.
“I thought we had time- i thought it was working.” he whispered out.
Your body froze. Now feeling entirely claustrophobic as opposed to protected.
You pushed at his chest - just enough to separate yourself.
“Its your fault.”
Joels eyes widened in fear, occasionally darting to view the door. He hadn't locked it.
“Im helping you. Im protecting you.”
Everything moved fast. Your grip on the tray of food Joel had discarded on the bed and losing it happened in a second.
“Its not working!” you yelled out as everything dropped to the floor. Food and drink mixing as it ran down the surface, fitting into all the creases.
Your hands locked in the shape of claws. As if you were holding something, or about to scratch or fight.
“It will, it will-” he tried to reassure you.
You stared shell shocked at the mess you made, the way it went closer and closer to the door; leaving the room. It left the room. You didnt realise you were following it until you felt him grab the back of your neck.
A sharp prick before you fell to your knees, into his arms, his control.
“What did you do-”
“I had to.”
“No.” you slurred your words, vision sparkling as Joel tried to calm you, gently holding your face.
“Its too early, i didnt want to.”
“What.. what a-are you,” you sobbed once again. “Whats happening to me?” tears followed their routinely path. Joel stuck to his self proclaimed role of catching them.
“Im gonna get rid of them, okay?”
You could only shake your head. He was a liar. He had to be.
“I promise.”
“W-why?” opening your eyes was too painful, beginning to feel them swell in your skull.
“They said it wouldnt work. I-i knew it would. They said to leave you a-and i couldnt.” Joel began swallowing down his own sobs. A man melting from guilt as you layed feeling like you were dying because of him.
You mouthed the movements a few times before sound escaped you. “F-fix it. Fix m-me.”
**DIV
File 370
Patient code 005 version 01
“Can you state your name?”
The lights were too bright, burning an imprint in eyelids. You stared at the tiles. You couldnt really think of what else to do.
You heard buzzing. Maybe that was the light too. Or maybe it was the machine.
“Do you know your name?”
You looked at the table. It looked rusted, the metal bars you were usually cuffed to were gone. So was the machine.
You finally met his eyes. You mustve looked dead, body tilted in the chair as if you were fully willing to fall from it. Joel hadnt shaved, eyes red from exhaustion and fear. He was still scared.
“‘m not supposed to, arent i?”
Empty. You felt empty, and drained. Joels expectant eyes didnt fill you with betrayal anymore. You didnt care. You just wanted it all to end.
“What? You want a fucking score?” you spit out. He barely gave you a reaction when you wanted one. “no cuffs this time either?”
the muscles in his face twitched, clearly trying to hide any hint of emotion but doing the exact opposite. he didnt answer.
you shifted around to rest your head in the crook of your elbow, peering up at Joel.
You felt desperate to talk Joel's ear off rather than spend time in that dark room you knew you'd be left with.
he'd tried to remain stoic, following the idea of repetition to avoid spoiling the process. it was hard to maintain that idea when youd stopped staring directly through him.
“what file is this then?”
Joel hadn't done his usual robotic talking to the machine; ‘code blah blah blah’. he gave you full control of the conversation - which was frustratingly boring.
“file 370.”
you hummed in response. again, boring.
“can i.. see your notes?”
Surprising, he pushed them over to you instantly. plain. you searched across the files and the pages of his notebook but there was purely nothing. he'd taken precautions this time.
you met his eyes once again. practically shaking in his seat, eyes darting across various places in the room and table to avoid yours. had he always been this emotive?
“what is your problem?”
he refused to respond.
“what's going on?”
he took a deep breath, leaning forward in his chair causing you to jolt back in vague defense.
“how much do you remember?”
“I remember you fucking stabbed me with a needle and i-”
“you're not supposed..” his voice faded out seeing your expression shift again.
“what?” you pushed him to continue.
“You're not supposed to remember anything.”
File 372
Patient code N/A
You woke up to burning.
Eyes, limbs and blood. Malfunctioning as if you were a machine.
You crawled off the bed, sheets triggering every nerve on your body. The tiles were the only thing that provided comfort - a complete contrast from the acid layer you were supposed to wear as skin.
It was a humiliating need to press yourself so far into the floor, tears running down your face from the agony. Your hands clawed at the material.
It seemed to shift under your touch. Feeling like marble one second and wood the next. Regardless, it was cold. It was helping.
At least for the moment. Your body’s heat built up once again, limbs tightening, skull closing in on itself.
You yelled out in pain - as if exhausting yourself would lessen its power.
A faint squeaking was sharply poking at your eardreams, straining the pain in your head further.
You turned, eyes blurry.
The rat was yelling out at you, scratching slightly at the walls of its enclosure. Its noises were practically screeches, begging for help when you were the one dying out on the floor.
“Shut up.”
It was supposed to sound clear. A direct order, yet your voice failed you. Coming out as a mumble and slight drool leaving your mouth from the lack of feeling in your face.
The rat persisted - so you did too.
“Shut up! Stop!”
It was almost as if it got louder, to the point you needed to clamp your hands over your ears. The only thing you could do now was cry. Wail loudly like it would be of any physical help. You were still trapped in this stupid room.
It felt bigger now, more hollow but spoiled, dirty. Nothing like how it felt before.
The walls shifted. Cold, clean and close to you but now ruined, stained and distant. You pressed the heel of your palm into your eyes, forcing darkness and for your brain to make up its mind on where you were.
Footsteps creaked, light practically raced its way to your head in order to increase the pressure when he opened the door.
You rolled onto your side, facing away but still calling his name out. Even if you had to turn to the person keeping you here for help, it was help. Surely he could do something.
“Joel?” you sniffled, only now processing your running nose.
The moment you felt him begin to cradle you into his lap was when you wiped your running face, staring down at your hand and noticing the blood.
You sat up to face him, watching his worry practically triple from the look in your eyes.
He cradled your face. “It's okay, it's okay.”
You shook your head in refusal. “‘m bleeding, ‘m not - not okay.”
Your skull still felt like it was exploding, leaning down to rest on Joel's chest as you tried to mentally accept your fate.
“Bleeding? Hey -” he lifted you, interrupting you as if it was merely a sulk to have to face him. “Where are you bleeding?”
“My face, l-look.” you tilted your head up a little, thinking maybe that would make it clearer for him to see.
He caressed your cheek but just stared into your eyes with hesitant concern.
“Theres no blood, you're not bleeding.” His voice was soft, spoken at a low level like it was a secret. Or a lie.
“I am.” you whined, not happy he was keeping up with his usual antics of making you feel crazy.
He started ruffling through a bag you’d barely noticed he had brought with him.
He pulled out tissues, covering your nose a little too quickly, you jolted back from shock. You settled as he cleaned your face.
“See.” you commented. Joel cleaning your face while denying the presence of blood felt plain stupid.
He pulled back when he was done, presenting the tissue to you.
“I don' t wan’ that.” you mumbled, nose blocked up making it sound sickly.
“Look at it.”
It was damp from snot and tears. It took a second to process what he was showing you.
“You’re not bleeding.”
“I was. I was. There was lots i-i i’m not a liar, i’m-”
You closed in on yourself - body shrinking from expecting pain, covering your face so you weren’t witness to it.
Joel sympathetically pulled you to his chest, feeling your body shake as you cried heavily. Maybe even crying more when you felt him comfort you. It was unfamiliar. A physical embrace, one that didn't come with a punishment.
“You hurting?”
You nodded against his chest, clawing at his shirt. Noticing now that it was a thin material instead of his usual suits.
“It won’t be long. I promise.”
“Why?” you sobbed out, feeling your nose begin to run again with a liquid more runny than usual. Out of embarrassment, you pulled back.
He quickly placed a new tissue to your face, not questioning the state of you. It eased your insecurity a little.
“Can’t explain.”
“Why?” you repeated, tone more irritated.
You blinked heavily, the pain still persistent.
Joel's jaw clenched, eyes holding yours. “Don’t want you to hate me.”
Your throat tightened. You weren't sure if you already did. You also weren't sure if saying that to him would help or make the situation worse.
“Please?” you pleaded, watching as his chest rose deeply in fear of the words on the tip of his tongue.
For some reason, Joel’s body language was less hesitant, less cautious of you. You let him do it. Part of it was comforting but most of it was out of necessity. You needed answers. Being hostile had left you suffering clueless over everything that was happening to you.
Joel sat up to look directly into your eyes. You didn't bark or bite, you just held it. Like you weren't praying for the second you could leave him. He caressed your cheek with his thumb.
“Your memory,” he whispered delicately. “It's my fault.”
All your body let you do was shake your head. You knew there was more going on.
“I'm trying to help you. That's all I'm doing.”
“Why does it have to hurt?” a sharp sob escaped you, no longer able to filter out the pain.
You sobbed, hands holding over Joel's as he held your face. You forced a somewhat tight grip, you felt as if your only way out was to squeeze your skull - break the bones - to die at his hands.
“It hurts ‘cause I stopped it. I stopped it all.”
Guilt formed a lump in his throat as he couldn't look away from the red tint in the edge of your eyes. You were so truly suffering and he couldn't do anything to help you now. Not yet.
“Make it stop. Please.” you murmured.
“I want to - so bad.” he shook his head, eyes now watering. “I have to wait. It's the medication i-i have to let it flush out. You have to be clean of it all and then I can help you again. I've been working on new meds, I promise, it's not long.”
“I just want the pain to stop!” you cried out, feeling tears run down your neck.
“You have to stay clean.”
“Idontcare-idontcare I want it gone. Make it stop.”
“I-”
“I was happy before, right? Not always, but sometimes.” you sniffled, barely able to stay conscious, let alone care about your appearance. “I don't care if it doesn't work. I don't care that it won't fix me. I just want this - this pain to stop.”
“Listen to me.”
“No.”
“Listen.”
You shook your head, leaning down to place yourself against his chest. No longer able to hold yourself up, you gave Joel the role of keeping you together.
“I made you a promise when I took you here. I said I wasn't gonna be like everyone else. I was going to help you. I wasn't gonna give up - I'm not.”
He rocked you back and forth gently, hoping to ease you into sleep.
“You were happy. You were happy with me, you trusted me.” he sniffled, choking down sobs or failing to, you couldn't tell. “You loved me.”
- omggg im super proud of it so far, pls comment if you wanna be added to my taglist and pleeeaseee lemme know what u think !!
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who met you on a random day of October and forgot what she’d been doing entirely— hands still, breath caught, eyes fixed on you like you were something she’d never seen before.
She didn’t ask questions, didn’t hesitate. Just invited you into her too-quiet cottage, scrubbing her hands nervously before offering you a glass of water like it was the most important thing she’d ever done.
She disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, splashing cold water on her face, adding a little extra of that pine-scented perfume her dad used to wear. She had heard about you before, you would be staying in town for a couple of months until you found a place to stay back at whatever fancy city you came from.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who became suddenly hyper-aware of you. Always asking if you needed something, if you were comfortable, if you were hungry, if the silence bored you. She hovered in a soft, clumsy way of someone who wanted to cause a great first impression.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who broke her routine just for you.
She offered to take you on a horse ride like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean the world to her.
You couldn't tell back then but she was certainly freaking out when you insisted on letting Alice– her dog – to come outside and play for a moment while you figured the whole riding thing.
She held your hands patiently, steadying you as you climbed on, letting you pet the horse first, letting you breathe, letting you feel and get used to it before teaching you anything at all.
She remembers it as something almost unreal—the way the sun kissed your skin, the way baby hairs danced across your forehead in the wind. The sheen of sweat on your skin after too much time outside. How much she laughed at everything you said, loud and easy, like she wasn’t falling helplessly in love right there.
She took a picture of you with her polaroid, you didn't notice.
She wanted to remember you when you left.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who promised she’d guide the horse no matter what.
Who never told you how sore her body felt the next day from holding herself so tense, so careful around you.
She didn’t care. A few days of pain were worth your smile and praise.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who cooked you her favorite meal that night. Her dad’s recipe. Nothing fancy. Just a simple omelet that somehow tasted warmer, fuller and just more delicious than anything you’d had before.
She spent the entire evening watching you like she was memorizing your existence, letting herself feel something she’d sworn she wouldn’t, even if it hurt later.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who by december offered to walk you through town, hands tucked into her jacket pockets the whole time. Denim clinging to her shoulders.
She paid for everything, insisting it was her idea anyway.
That and the fact that everyone in town gave her discounts without her even asking. Everyone knew her. Everyone loved her.
Maybe you did too.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who couldn’t stop looking at you. She thought you freezing wasn’t something that should be allowed, so, when she had the chance Abby didnt hesitate. She bought you a scarf without thinking twice, stepping close to wrap it around your neck with hands too tender for a friend, even.
She thought you were the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. And that terrified her.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who avoided you for the rest of the night, claiming she was tired, that the cold was getting to her.
She drove you back in silence, broken only by the radio crackling softly with some half-heard Christmas song filling the space between you.
And you could tell there was more to it.
After all, two months and a week or two together couldn't end in a simple goodbye and a good friendship.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who stiffened when you caught her arm before she could escape to her room. Who nearly buckled when she saw you tug the scarf down, leaning in. She met you halfway, hands cupping your face immediately, tender like she was afraid even the smallest touch might shatter you.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who didn’t sleep that night. Just lay awake thinking of you. Only you.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who woke early the next morning with no idea what she was supposed to say, or do, or feel.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who froze when she found you already up, eating leftovers at the table. Hair messy, wrapped in too many layers of pajamas, smelling unmistakably like you.
She approached slowly, murmuring a soft “morning,” sitting across from you while her clumsy hands reached for—bread? She laughed quietly at herself, embarrassed.
“Wanna talk about last night?” she blurted out, too honest, too sweet. You almost melted on the spot.
She looked so adorable, so tender. With her braid half undone and her freckles adorning her flushed cheeks. Her eyes staring at you. God, you nearly collapsed.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who later— in a poo attempt of being subtle —invited you to her room to watch a movie. She made popcorn, bought snacks, let you choose. She barely spoke the whole time, just grateful. Just there.
She didn’t want to think about else than the present.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who curled into you once the movie ended, breathing softly against your chest while you undid her braid.
“My dad was the only one who did this,” she said quietly, then corrected herself, hand resting on your stomach. “Touch my hair, I mean.”
She looked up at you, and you understood. She missed him. She missed love. She missed not being alone.
“Yeah?” you whispered, rubbing her back gently. When she looked up again, you smiled, cradling her freckled face between your hands. “Thanks for letting me do this.”
She nodded, just staring at you with loving eyes like she did. And then you realized. Maybe you were taking too much for granted. “Though I guess I should’ve asked first?”
You laughed, and she followed, shaking her head.
“Thanks for not asking.”
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who keeps one of your hair ties on her nightstand after you leave. She doesn’t use it. Just likes knowing it’s there, likes having proof that someone as you, as... tender and sweet and lovely and real chose her quiet world, even if just for a while.
𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 who kept staring at the Christmas tree you helped her choose and decorate. Each night quietly sitting on her worn couch, sipping her tea in silence.
Summary: When jackson is thriving, growing and improving, it shouldn’t be a surprise to you when contagious conditions embrace you too. But it does. And it scares the shit out of you.
tags/includes 🏷️: pregnancy, jackson joel, dina & ellie relationship, agegap (joel is 56, reader is 34), angst, domestic joel, arguments, mention of sarah and childloss, not proofread sorry
—
It didn’t take long for you to start showing. It happened pretty early on in your pregnancy, Dr. Lilah told you that she believed you to be five weeks along when you found out and now you’re 14 weeks, starting your second trimester. Your pregnant stomach was protruding even in jackets now thought it confused you, you remember Maria around this stage with her first baby and you don’t remember it being this noticeable.
You were thrilled, of course but there was a less thrilling part that came with you showing this much. The stares. You and Joel already deal with your fair share of staring when you’re out together in Jackson, hand in hand, that’s the most amount of affection the two of you are comfortable with in public yet people act like you’re doing a lot worse. You get it, you and Joel have a significant age difference and it’s shocking for some people that Joel is even still capable of getting you pregnant at this age.
You’re walking through the snow, your boots cracking down on the ice beneath your feet. It’s icier out than usual but you don’t pay it much mind. You hold on tight to the canned goods you’re carrying, hoping to trade it in for some wood. You asked Joel pretty early on if he would mind making the crib himself, you wanted it to be special even though he could have just searched a house for it or probably found one in Jackson. He agreed of course and now you were hoping to get on that.
You walked yourself all the way towards the construction zone of Jackson, where most of the stores were hardware stores and construction gear stores. There was an open area, similar to a market where wood was treated and sold. To no one’s surprise,Tommy was already there working on some project for Jackson. He was at the work bench using some of the tools you could rent if you didn’t want to trade or work for them when he saw you approaching.
“Hey Tommy,” you smiled weakly with a short wave as he set down his tool and removed his glasses.
“Hey…what’re you doin’ out here?” He furrows his brows and looks you up and down before approaching you quickly for some reason.
“Need some wood, thought I could trade in these cans for it. We’re uh—well Joel is gonna start on the crib soon,” you pointed to your stomach as if it wasn’t obvious the crib was for the baby.
He was still looking at you like you were a flower about to be stepped on, you raise a brow when he didn’t reply and just came over next to you.
“Joel know you’re out here like this?” He questioned while pulling off his gloves and you narrowed your brows.
“No, he’s still asleep—what do you mean “like this”?” You cocked your head to the side as he reached for your hand and put the other on your side, turning you around carefully.
“You don’t see all this ice out here? I didn’t even let Maria come out today, we’re still tryna remove it all. Hell—Ellie and Jessie threw a fit when Dina tried to step out,” he shooks his head while guiding you the other way back towards your house.
“I have Joel’s work boots on, it’ll be fine—“
“Nah, Joel’ll kill me if he knew I saw you out here and didn’t take you back home. You could slip real bad out here…let Joel handle the wood situation, alright?” He huffs while stepping carefully, a little dramatically in your eyes but you went with it.
“I don’t see the big deal, I’ve been walking real careful. I just wanted to help,” you groaned and turned down the street to your house.
“I know you do but you’ve got a husband for a reason, don’t ‘ya?” He chuckles and you grant him half a smile.
“Yes I do. A husband who deserves a break sometimes—“
“You ask him if he needs a break? I doubt he does,” he shakes his head and helps you up the steps one by one.
“Well—“ before you can even reply the front door swings wide open and Joel is standing there, half dressed but fully pissed off.
Both you and Tommy stop, don’t even make it to the door. Tommy slides his hand to the back of his neck and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Looks like you’re in trouble,” he mutters and you roll your eyes at him before he goes on about his business and turns around.
“Thanks for bringing her back, Tommy.” He grumbles, Tommy waves his hand in response before getting the hell out of there.
Joel’s eyes never leave you once. His nose id all crinkled up and his brows are pulled together focused on you. You stand there with your bag still over your shoulder and he steps towards you, grabbing your hand and taking you back inside while snatching something off the door. When you’re both inside, he turns around and without saying a word shows you the poster he grabbed off the door.
“It’ll be icy out for the next few days, best stay inside unless necessary. Will update when we’ve got it all taken care of-Jackson Council”
You read the poster even though you already read it when they first put it up yesterday morning while you and Joel were headed out. Your breath hitches and Joel lowered it when he saw that you were done. His flannel is still unbuttoned from being half dressed, he doesn’t have his usual undershirt on, instead his chest is bare like he threw his clothes on and ran downstairs. His works pants are on that he clearly grabbed in a rush to find you.
“I…I just wanted to help,” you spoke first, breaking the ice between the two of you as he stares.
“You don’t need you to help. You’re already doing enough,” he groans and rubs his hand over his face.
“I haven’t done anything. You renovated the baby’s room, you added in another bathroom, you go out on patrols day in and out to scavenge stuff for the baby and I—“
“And you are growing our baby…keepin’ em safe in there is a part of that. You’re doing that twenty four seven, sweets,” he cuts off and sighs with his hands falling to his hips.
“I…just wanted to help.” You mumbled, chewing the inside of your cheek now as you grow more frustrated.
“I know that, baby but what I want is for you to focus just on this. I can handle every else, okay?” He places a gentle hand to your bump and it takes you a minute before you agree with a head nod.
“Christ, you scared me this morning…glad yall’re okay,” he whispers while stepped forward and sliding his hands around you instead
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you whispered while hugging him back, you could feel his heart racing against your chest.
His hair was still messy like he’d just woken up snd thrown his clothes on when Tommy brought you back. His heart racing against your chest still made you sad, he held onto you for a minute before letting you go and rubbing a hand over his face again.
“Just—just, sit down for a minute, alright?” He gestures towards the couch and you go and do just that, plopping down.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Joel. You’re just…you’re doing a lot for us, you come to bed late from working on the house and patrols for us…I wanted to help out with getting the wood,” you said to him and he sits down on the couch next to you and turns you towards him as he pulls your legs up onto his lap.
“I’m supposed to be doing a lot. That’s my job, baby,” he chuckles softly and removes his work boots off you.
“Took my boots too, huh?” He grins and you suddenly feel a little embarrassed.
“Thought it would help…walking on the ice and everything,” you replied and he just grunted in response.
His hands started rubbing your feet, you’d been complaining about how sore they were with them steadily getting swollen here and there. Joel’s hands were slightly shaking as he rubbed your feet and you’d didn’t notice it at first but when you did, your heart dropped. You could see the way he was slightly frowning, his heart was probably still racing and there was a crease in the space between his brows.
“Joel…?” You called out and this time he just sighed loudly in response.
“Was so fuckin’ scared…I thought something bad happened. Thought you fell out there and—“
“Hey hey hey…I’m okay. We’re okay,” you climbed onto his lap and disregarded the foot massage to reassure him.
You grabbed his hand and placed it on your bump, hoping the feel of it would reassure him more than you could with words. You kissed his temple as he kept his hand on your bump and your heart began to race this time. You felt absolutely terrible, you didn’t think it was possible for you to be the reason he was terrified but it clearly was. He whispered something else as you held him but you couldn’t quite hear it.
“I don’t…I don’t want you liftin’ a finger alright? Need you here, where you’re safe…I wanna do things right this time,” he insisted and you can hear the way his voice cracks. “I won’t fuck this up again, I can’t. I need ya safe…both ‘a you,” he whispers and you can hear the way he’s struggling with the idea of you doing anything but that.
“Joel…” you breathed out and slid your hands down to cup his jaw. “What happened to Sarah wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” You gulped, it wasn’t very often that you spoke about Sarah but when you did, it was only if it felt necessary.
He looked up at you, eyes heavy with the millions of terrible things he thought happened to you when he woke up this morning and you were nowhere to be found. He doesn’t answer you but he doesn’t need to, you’ll keep telling him that as much as you have to.
“I won’t do that again…’m sorry. I just know how tired you are, I didn’t want to feel so useless anymore.” You whispered to him and that snapped his head up.
“Useless? Sweetheart, look at you,” he gestured towards your growing stomach and you nodded like you knew already but it didn’t change how you felt.
“You been takin’ good care ‘a me for years…just let me take care of you. I’m not denying that I’m tired, I’m denying that it’s not worth it…every ache, every yawn, every bit of soreness…’ts all worth it. I promise,” he explains with his head tilted up, you nod your head with a weak smile and he sighs with relief.
“Let’s get you up to bed, know your feet’re killin’ ya,” he says before standing up with you scooped up in his arms to which you let out a little yelp.
“Joel your back!”
“Quiet. I ain’t that old, I can still carry ya up the stairs,” he remarks sharply and you keep your hands over his neck with a little laugh as he does exactly that.
“ ‘sides, my back won’t kill me but the heart attack you give me will,” he jokes and you roll your eyes at that but still feel a bit of jerking around at your heart.
He carries you up the stairs and takes you into the bedroom where he sets you down and starts taking off your jacket. A part of you thinks he just enjoys doing this in general, which you can’t blame him for because you love undressing him too. He reaches for your jeans, the ones that are actually his and starts unbuttoning them, you lift yourself up a bit and holding onto his shoulder to steady you as he pulls them down and off you.
He gets your shirt off next, you lift your arms for him and even though he tries to hide he, he loves how heavy your tits are getting already. He glances at them for half a second before turning around and grabbing one of his shirts from the closet, already knowing how much you preferred sleeping in his shirts and puts it on you.
“You’re not gonna lay with me?” You questioned when it didn’t look like he was going to undress next.
“Gotta go on patrol in an hour…I’ll be back before dinner,” he kissed your temple and you frowned a little but got into bed for his own sake.
“Be back soon. Stay here,” he whispers once you’re all under the covers.
“Be safe,” you whispered back and he kissed you for that.
He kisses you tenderly before turning around and leaving quietly.
He always liked to get there early, spend some time with his horse and go over the routes a final time before actually heading out.
—
Dinner rolled around and Joel still wasn’t back yet. You were sitting at the table with a bowl of chili and rice in front of you, waiting for his return. The bowl was no longer steaming and you refused to eat with Joel, despite your aching hunger.
As much as you wanted to grab your coat and head out there yourself to see what was taking so long, you couldn’t. And as time went on you grew progressively more nervous, you settled your hand over your bump as you waited for him but it provided no comfort for you.
It wasn’t until night had already fallen that Joel came in, boots dripping with snow, hair damp and his nose a little red with his cheeks. He took his boots off first and then placed them outside before turning to you while slipping off his jacket.
“Fuck—you didn’t eat? Ya didn’t have to wait for me, baby,” he shook his head as he hung up his coat and made his way over to you.
“I like eating dinner with you. We always eat dinner together,” you replied blankly and his eyes winced at that before he leaned over and kissed your temple.
“Shit, ‘m sorry. I was looking for one of those baby carriers, like the one you saw in that magazine I brought back last week. I got some books too, found ‘em at one of the houses I cleared,” he grunted as he sat down across from you and you just nodded slowly.
“Food looks good—the hell?!” Joel’s eyes flash open when he looks across the table and sees you bursting into tears, cradling your face with your hands as you sob silently.
He sits there for a minute too stunned to move but after he snaps out of it, he’s up and crouching down by you in the chair. He’s wiping your tears with his rough and calloused hands while directing your face towards him.
“This is stupid,” you sniffled and wiped your face with your sleeve, scoffing at how emotional you’d gotten in mere seconds.
“What’s stupid? What’s goin’ on baby?” He questions while rubbing his hand against your cheek.
“I’m so hungry…but I wanted to wait for you to come back so I didn’t eat and now…I’m starving,” you complained while sniffling and he dropped his hand down to rub over your thigh.
“I don’t know why I’m crying! Fuck!” You exclaimed and kept wiping your face roughly.
“Hormones, baby. Our little fighter in there is determined to make you cry over anything, ‘m afraid,” he explains while gesturing towards your stomach and you exhaled loudly.
“Come on, let’s get some food in ya,” he rubs your thigh a final time before standing up and going back to his seat.
You start picking at your food, scooping up some of the chili in rice while doing your best to fight the tears because you’re quite literally in the process of eating. After a few minutes you’re finally settled and feeling embarrassed by your outburst that made no sense at all, Joel doesn’t seem to mind though he continues scarfing down your cooking like usual.
“Better?”
“Better.” You agreed with a head nod and he let out a low chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me!” You snapped playfully and he did his best to conceal his grin.
“You’re the one who did this to me,” you mumbled before taking another spoonful.
“I don’t reckon you recall being the one who always asks me to finish inside when ‘m close, do ya?” He reminded and you gasped softly while shaking your head.
“You have no shame, Mr. Miller.”
“Neither do you, Mrs. Miller,” he jokes back and you both looked up smiling at each other like idiots.
You continue you dinner together and once you’ve calmed down fully he tells you about the things he found. He managed to find some pregnancy books for you two to read and the reason that he was late is because he went out a little farther than usual to check out another house in search of the baby carrier you wanted. After dinner was done, he took care of the dishes despite you saying you could. He told you to go wash up for bed while he cleaned up downstairs so that’s what you did.
You slipped into one of his big red tee’s, a little faded at the edges from age but you loved it. He was in the shower by the time you were in your bedroom and you couldn’t help but look at your bump in the full length mirror by the door. You observed yourself and your changing body, soon enough you’d need to find a bigger bra and maybe some maternity pants too. A part of you wished it was summer so you could just put on a dress and call it a day but it was much too cold for that.
You got into bed and just sat there waiting, you couldn’t sleep without Joel’s arms around you. When he was finally done showering, he came back in dressed in a plain white shirt and plaid pajama pants, grinning a little when he saw you just laying there.
“Waitin’ for me?” He hums and you nodded, he flicked the light off and crawled into bed with you.
“I missed you today,” you whispered when his arms draped over you from behind with one hand on your stomach.
“Missed you too…’specially after damn near giving me a heart attack this mornin’,” he grumbles with a gentle rub over your stomach.
“I said I was sorry Joel.” You reminded and he just laughed.
“I know…just don’t go doin’ that again. I don’t know what I’d do if you fell or somethin’ like that,” he insisted and you nodded in agreement.
“Well soon it feels like I won’t be able to even get out of bed on my own,” you huffed in annoyance and slightly turned over onto your back.
“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look at me Joel! I’m only fourteen weeks…I’m showing more than Dina and Maria and they’re both farther along than me…I’m gonna be looking nine months pregnant sooner than later,” you informed with annoyance in your voice and he furrowed his brows.
“What’s wrong with that? I think you look beautiful,” he muttered and you just shook your head slow.
“I…I see how people look at us Joel. I dunno, I thought I’d have more time to enjoy the secrecy of the pregnancy before I had to deal with the staring,” you confessed and he sat him a little bit and stopped rubbing his hand over you.
“You are an adult and so am I. Fuck ‘em if this bothers them that much. I’m happy about this baby…’ts the greatest thing that could happen to me at this age,”
“Don’t make me cry, Miller. I won’t forgive you,” you shake your head and he laughs at that before leaning over and kissing your cheek.
“Can’t believe I’m gonna be a father again…greatest fuckin’ gift you could give me,” he continues rubbing his rough and calloused hands over your growing bump. "Whaddya think is in there? I think we got ourselves a princess on the way," he imagines and it would be a lie t say you hadn't thought about it.
"I dunno...was thinkin' a cowboy might be whats makin' me swell up so much. Maria told me that if I carry low it's a boy and if I'm carrying high it's a girl...don't think we can tell just yet though," you answered and he nodded.
He pulled you a bit closer to him, his arms fitting around you perfectly as he took comfort in the warmth of your bodies this close together. It didn't take long for you to doze off but per usual, you stirred awake every so often at the sound of him talking to your little prince or princess. You didn't know what he talked to them about and you never asked, the sound of his whispers was soothing enough to keep you asleep. You felt he was owed that privacy, especially with how cute you found it.
—
It'd been a week or so since your little "ice skating" stunt and you hadn't left the house since. They'd clear up the ice three days ago and left notices that it was safe for people to come out now but you were still sitting on the porch with a hot cup of tea, watching people go by. A few days ago you tried to pick up knitting but it didn't go to well so now you were back to drawing. You were sketching when you heard the wood of the stairs creak, you looked up and saw Tommy grinning.
"My big brother still got you on house arrest?" Tommy chuckles and pulled his gloves off while coming over to sit next to you.
"Well...kinda. I just don't want to worry him...we talked about it and I don't want him to worry more than he needs to so house arrest it is," you shrugged and set down your pencil.
"That's real kind of you...I know he probably don't say it enough but you're a mighty good woman. Feel like he thinks he's walkin' on eggshells the way he talks about getting everything ready for the baby," he nods his head after sitting down next to you.
"What about you? You ready to be an Uncle again?" you teased and he let out a heavy exhale.
" 'course. Can't help thinkin' about all these birthday's that'll be close together now," he laughed and rubbed the back of his aching neck.
"Oh I'm sure Joel is lookin' forward to that," you remarked sarcastically and Tommy joined you in laughing.
"So uh...Joel's still out on patrol, right? He'll be back in the hour?" Tommy changes the subject with a tone you don't necessarily favor on him.
"Mhm...is something up?"
"No...no, just send tell Joel to come speak to me at The Tipsy Bison, alright?" he stands up, letting out a forced exhale when he's on his feet and you nodded.
"Enjoy your house arrest," he gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder before taking off and leaving you to return to your drawings.
When Joel came around, you sent him to The Tipsy Bison even though you would have much rather preferred spending your alone time with him. Either way, it seemed important so he was off, promising not to take longer than necessary. Typically, your dynamic called for Joel making dinner and you preparing breakfast but now that you had so much time at home, you got started on dinner while he was out.
What you thought would take an hour at most turned into two. By two hours and a half, the platers were set, dinner was finished and you were hungry. Time was creeping towards three hours and you just couldn't take it anymore, you grabbed your coat from the closet and put on Joel's boots, not your own (for safety of course). You gulped as you opened the front door, all the ice had been cleared by the last thing you wanted was to jinx yourself.
You stepped out onto the porch and shut the door, when you went down the steps you took it one by one with your hand firm on the railing. The Tipsy Bison was a ten minute walk that you turned into damn near half an hour with how slow you were moving. You hadn't been scared to fall before but now that Joel had mentioned it, it became a new fear of yours.
It started to snow while you were out, you didn't move any faster but sometimes you did just pause and stand there. You looked around, hoping to find someone you recognize and ask for a hand but you never did. All you found were people who'd been giving you dirty looks for months now. You put your hand up on the buildings you walked by and your other hand around your bump, just incase you did fall you were hoping your arm would break the fall.
When you reached The Tipsy Bison, you realized that this is why the streets looked so empty out. It was packed as ever. You shook off the snow at the door and did your best to keep enough distance that people wouldn't bump into you while scanning the room for Joel. You looked to the bar and found him seemingly arguing with Tommy, they were going back and forth in a way you'd never seen before.
You wiped off the boots on the mat before walking towards them at a somewhat normal pace.
"One job Tommy. You had one damn job!" Joel rubs his hand over his face in distress and you flinch a little at the sheer anger in his voice.
Before Tommy replies, his expression drops when his eyes settle on you. Joel's back is facing you but Tommy can see you approaching behind Joel. He curses under his breath and Joel slowly turns around to find you walking towards him with your hand protectively over your stomach. Joel's hardened gaze falters at the sight of you, his pregnant worried wife, coming right towards him.
"Everything alright here?" you questioned, slightly out of breath from your trip here.
"Fuck—yes...'m sorry, didn't even know it was dark out. I'll take you home—" he starts scramibling to gather his things, taking his coat off the back of the chair at the bar and putting it on without even glancing at Tommy.
"If it's important, I can wait—"
"No. You shouldn't have had to come out here f'me anywhere...we're done, let's go home," he assures you, moving rather quickly to get you out.
He doesn't say anything else to Tommy, not even a "goodbye" and that's how you know somethings wrong. He takes your hand in his and shuffles you out of the bar, making sure no one bumps into you like they had before. Once you're out, you decide to wait until you make it back home to ask him what really happened.
"Dinners cold but I can heat it up," you told him once you we're outside, he's scanning the snow all over the pavement and his hand squeezes yours.
He's frozen, doesn't move anything but his head as he looks around at all the snow making the pavement slick. You turn your head when you realize he's not moving and you give his hand a squeeze.
"It's okay...I got here without any problems," you tried reassuring him but your words didn't mean much to someone who'd lost so many people through accidents.
You could see him fighting the urge to offer to carry you. You knew the nature of Sarah's death, you can't even imagine how hard picking you up right now might be for him but you see it all over his face.
"Come on...we'll go slow," you give his arm a gentle tug before stepping out because you know if you don't move, neither will he.
It takes you a while to get back home but when you do, you can see the relief washing all over his face as you make it inside. He glances over your shoulder and see's the table all set for you both, his jaw clenches as you reach at his shoulders.
"I'm sorry...fuck I'm so sorry," he murmurs and you just shake your head with a soft smile as you begin removing his coat for him.
"What happened...? I saw you two arguing," you turned and hung his coat up then did yours.
Before answering he had you sit down on the couch so he could take your his boots off, he untied them with a sigh and that only made you more nervous.
"I don't want to worry you," he mentioned and if anything that only worried you more.
"Tell me." you insisted firmly, trying not to look too nervous at whatever he might say.
He gets both boots off, sets them down before running his hand back over his hair. He looks tired but not just from patrol or the hard years he's endured but rather whatever he and Tommy were arguing about.
"You remember Dr. Smith?" he clasps his hands together and keeps his gaze off you, staring at the floor instead.
"Our OB? Yeah, of course,"
"She...wanted to check out a hospital 'bout thirty miles out, lookin' for some more supplies since more people are havin' babies and uh...Tommy let her go even though we'd never searched that area before. He sent her out with a group of six, she and two other's didn't come back," he ripped off the bandaid thinking it would hurt less to hear but it didn't.
You put a hand over your stomach, you couldn't even blink. Dr. Smith was the only doctor in Jackson whose specialty was obstetrics. She helped bring in more babies than you could count and you had anticipated on being next. Joel says something else but you don't even hear him, you're so utterly terrified that you're frozen in fear for what this means for you. There are other doctors, sure, but none of them specialized in obstetrics. Dr. Smith had been training a few other doctors but it wasn't the same, she had thirty years of obstetrics under her belt.
He doesn't even have to say what it means, you already know. And you don't like what you know, it scares you. He reaches over, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb back and forth over the top of it. You can't even gather the strength to form words, he's talking to you but you're not replying. You pull your legs up a bit and scoot over, rubbing your head against his chest. Like clockwork, his arm falls over you and he grabs the blanket hanging off the armrest to put over you without question. You keep your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat calms you as much as being this close to him does.
You grab his hand and put it on your growing stomach, you trust him more than anything but right now you need to feel protected. There was no one more protective over you than Joel and he gave you exactly that, rubbing his handover your bump and peppering kisses on the top of your head. A scared as you were, you felt a little better knowing you weren't alone and that Joel was just as nervous about this as you.
an: um first time writing something like this so be nice😖
now playing: an eater matt martians
✉︎ synopsis~ellie is a little too obsessed with her favorite writer
✉︎ scoops~obsessed fan!ellie x writer!reader
✉︎ flavor~dark chocolate
✉︎ allergy warning~ dark content, stalking, breaking in, obsessive behaviors, fighting, use of chloroform, and implied kidnapping
✉︎ swirl~one-sided love
✉︎ serving size~onshot (1741 words)
“Thank you for coming,” you say with a smile, handing over an autographed copy of one of your best sellers, ‘Mystic Mistakes’.
Making the ‘Heart of Glass’ series wasn't easy. Hours of your time spent staring at a bright computer screen, the blinking cursor taunting you. Months of submitting weeks worth of work to publishers, only to be criticized and rejected in no less than twenty minutes. Days where you wanted to completely give up, convinced you’d never make it big and that writing was just a “silly little hobby,” as your mom liked to call it.
But it was all worth it.
It was worth stumbling across fans cosplaying your characters on your fyp. It was worth seeing thousands of fanfics inspired by your books, no matter how widely inaccurate the characterizations were. It was worth having a line of fans wrapped around the block, eager to meet the creator of their favorite series.
A girl steps up to your table.
She’s wearing a green baggy short-sleeved shirt paired with baggy, dark blue jeans. Her face is covered in freckles standing out against the red tint coloring her pale cheeks. Her eyes are a striking light green that contrasted the dark circles under her eyes.
The way she looked at you was different from the way your other fans looked at you. Her gaze looked primal, hungry even. It unsettled you. You brush it off, and smile up at her.
“Hi, what’s your name?”
“Um—Ellie,” she says quietly, avoiding eye contact as she extends her book towards you.
You take the book opening it to the first cover, “How do I spell that.”
“E-l-l-i-e.”
You write each individual letter to form her name and finish it off with a little heart beside it.
“Here you go.” you hand the book back to her with a smile.
“T-thank you. Um, I had a question about Faun’s backstory behind her discovery of her magical powers and how it could be tied to her lover, Willow. And-“
“I’m sorry,” you interrupt gently. “I’d love to answer your questions, but there’s a long line of people waiting. Maybe you could email me your questions.”
“But everyone else got at least three minutes.” ellie’s tone turned colder and her eyes turned disturbingly dark. “And I still have two more minutes.”
“Like I said—Ellie, is it?—you can always shoot me an email, and I’ll respond as soon as I can.”
“You promise?” she asks quietly.
Her question catches you off guard, but you quickly recover wanting to end this as quickly as possible. “I promise.”
❀⋆.ೃ࿔❀⋆.ೃ࿔❀⋆.ೃ࿔❀
“Home sweet home.” you let out a tired sigh, as you shut the front door behind you.
For the past three months, you’ve been touring the country promoting your newest book and today like everyday was as packed as ever.
You sluggishly walk over to your king-sized bed and flop onto it.
Ping!
“Ughh.” you groan at the notification, and dig in your pocket to retrieve your phone.
A message from your manager, Kat.
kat: sorry to tell you this so late, but can you check your email as soon as possible? Books Galore messaged you proposing a collaboration, and I need to know if you're interested. Kisses🫰🏽
you: ok will do that now
You click off messages and go to your email, and are about to dig for the collaboration, until a certain subject line caught your attention.
“You promised”
“What the fuck is this?” you say under your breath as you open the interesting email.
You promised. You promised that you would respond. But you lied. You looked me dead in my eyes, smiled at me, and lied. Do you know how much I love you? How much I adore you? Much more than any one of your fucking fans, that’s for sure. And I’ll prove it to you.
-e.
‘E? Whose e? And what promise are they talking about?’ You rack your brain for a couple minutes until you put the pieces together. Your stomach dropped when you realized who this person was. That girl, Ellie. Your hands are shaky and clammy as you dial Kat’s number. She answers after three rings.
“Did you read the email?” she asks.
“Um—no not yet. But do you remember my meet and greet that I had a couple months ago in California?”
“The one for ‘Mystic Mistakes’?”
“Yea. There was this certain fan there. She rubbed me the wrong way from the moment I met her, and I should’ve trusted my gut.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Kat’s voice grows a little more worried when she hears the shakiness in your voice.
“When I checked my email, I got this message from her. And it’s really disturbing. It’s freaking me out.” you say, your voice cracked as fear wells up in your chest.
“Ok,breathe. Just sit for a second and breathe.” she instructs and you do just that. You close your eyes, taking a deep breathe in before slowly exhaling it. You do it a couple times before you re-open your eyes. Slightly calmer.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Still freaked out but a little less panicked.”
“I don’t blame you. Can you send me a screenshot of the email?”
“Yea. Give me a second.” You go to your email and screenshot the message, sending it to her.
“I see why you’re so spooked. Even reading it gave me chills.”
“I don’t know what-“
Knock. Knock.
The sound freezes you mid-sentence.
“What’s wrong?” Kat asks.
“Someone knocked on my door.” you whisper into the phone, your eyes glued to the door.
“Just stay put. I’m going to call the police.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Let me check first.”
“Why? For all you know, it could be that girl behind the door!”
“And for all you know, it could be just some hotel worker bringing me the food I ordered a while ago. And it wouldn’t be a good idea to cause a scene if nothing bad ends up happening. It would be bad publicity, and I don’t need that right now when I’m on top of my game right now.”
“…I guess you’re right. Just a peak.”
“Ok.” you say, before getting up and walking to the door. You move aside the gold peep hole covering and look out straight into the hotel hallway. Nothing. You look to the sides and it was the same outcome. Your eyes glide down an land on a silver serving platter sitting in front of the door.
“I was right.” you chuckle, relief washing over you, “it was just my order.”
“Ok, well if any other issues arise just call me.”
“You know I will. Bye bye.”
“See you tomorrow.”
You hang up the phone, shoving it back into your pocket before unlocking the door. You bend down to grab the platter but stop mid crouch when you see a boot in your peripheral vision. Your blood runs cold. You look up slowly to see Ellie standing over you while, smiling wildly.
“Gotcha.”
You spring up and immediately try to slam the door shut but Ellie’s hand grabs onto the door, fighting to pull it open.
“Open.The.Fucking.Door.” she grunts.
“Go the fuck away!” you yell, using all your might to shut the door. Ellie’s strength overpowers yours and she manages to force her way in.
You stumble backwards, eyes frantically scanning the room for an alternative exit.
Ellie walks into the room quickly and closes the door. She smooths out the stray strands on the top of her head before turning around, that same twisted smile plastered on her face.
“It’s so good to see you again.” she says, walking towards you with her arms extended.
You back away, clattering into the nightstand behind you.
“Not a hugger? I get that.” she shrugs. “Did you get the emails I sent you? I wasn't sure if they went through.” she scratches her head.
You don’t respond, still too frozen with fear for your lips to form a sentence.
“Oh, sorry. I don’t know if you remember me.” She laughs awkwardly,” I went to your book signing a couple months ago.”
“…”
“That probably doesn’t help. You meet hundreds of people everyday. Sorry, I’m just-“
“H-how did you find my hotel?” you interrupt, trying to steady your voice.
Ellie brightens up immediately, she looked like a kid in a candy shop. “Well it was pretty simple I just-“
As she talks, your eyes drift to the metal clock sitting on the nightstand. A plan starts to hatch in your mind. You slowly reach behind you and grip hunk of metal.
“-and now here I am!” ellie finishes proudly.
“So, what’s the plan now? Are you gonna kill me.” you say, you tighten your grip on the alarm clock.
“No no no.” A hurt expression etched onto her face, upset that you would even think she was capable of such an inhumane act. ”I would never hurt you. You're my other half. My soulmate.”
In one swift movement you rip the clock out of the outlet ,and with all your strength, hurl it at Ellie’s face. It clatters with her left eye causing her to cry out and stumble backwards, cradling her injured eye.You take the chance to bolt for the door, your fingers brush against the cold door handle until, but was roughly pulled away by your shirt. Your back collides with her chest and she immediately wraps her arms around you.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, bitch?” You thrash wildly against her stern hold trying your hardest to separate yourself from her. You scratch, bite, and hit at her arms but it was no use against her firm grip.
“I did all of this for you and this is how you thank me?” her voice drops dangerously low. “Thank the love of your life?” Her grip tightens.
You continuously struggle not wanting to give up and Ellie just chuckles at your weak attempts. She slips a hand into her pocket pulling out a blue rag. Before you could react it's quickly pressed tightly over your mouth and nose. Your racing thoughts start to slow, your limbs start to feel heavy, and your sporadic movements slowly turn sluggish. The room begins to spin.
“Shh, just go to sleep, sweetheart.” Ellie’s voice sounded slow and distant as if you were under the water. You stare up at Ellie’s twisted face before your vision went black.
