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damneddamsy · 2 days ago

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falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part ii)

summary: Joel Miller never expected much out of Jackson—just a quiet place to live out the days he had left. But when a baby’s cries lead him to a mother unravelling under the pressure of nursing her child she never asked for, he finds himself tangled in something he can’t walk away from—no matter how much he tells himself he should.

a/n: on today's episode of 'angry idiots and sad assholes', introducing the one and only Joel Miller! I let out a few tears writing this one, too, it's really painful when you think about how Joel probably perceives himself, or how I think he does. onto other happier news, I simply cannot believe the kind of response the first part garnered, and I'm shook! rise up, depression girlies!!! To everyone who responded in the comments and reblogs, I've read them all twice over and giggled and twirled my hair and threw up butterflies. Thank you, and I hope you like this one! :)

Joel settled into his routine like a man settling into an old wound. Patrols, clearing trails, the stables, the repair shop, the bar, dinner in silence, rinse and repeat. It was easier that way—easier than thinking too much about a vain attempt. He ignored his neighbour’s existence completely. At least, that’s what he told himself.

But ignoring something didn’t make it disappear.

Every morning, he still ended up at the dining table—the one he never used—sipping his coffee too slow for his patience, gaze drawn to the big white house across the street like a goddamn magnet. Watching for movement. Watching for them.

And he fucking hated it.

Hated the part of him that waited, that noticed, that took account of the smallest details like they meant anything to him. Like he still had a reason to care.

Sometimes, Maya fussed too much, and Leela would come outside, her hair a little unkempt, gait all botched, but her hands steady as she cradled her baby against her chest. He saw her murmuring softly to the baby girl, pointing to the sky, the trees, the shifting clouds, the falling snow. A little trick from Maria, he figured. It worked well enough. Maya would quiet, those big brown eyes so curious, distracted by the vastness of the world she barely understood.

And Leela—she still looked tired. Still looked like she was moving through a fog, unseeing, carrying more than just the baby in her arms. But she took to Maya differently now, touched her calmly, like she was no longer afraid she might break her.

That was good. That meant she was doing fine. That meant she didn’t need him. And that meant Joel could stop worrying about the things that weren’t his to worry about.

Joel was outside, tightening the hinges on his porch gate, bracing against the cold, when he heard her steps crunching in the snow. Still quiet. Still waiting. He didn’t look up right away, just kept his focus on the task in front of him. If she needed something, she’d say it.

"Good morning, Joel," Leela greeted warmly.

Joel gave a short nod, adjusting the grip on his screwdriver. "Mornin’."

She lingered there. Honestly, he just wished she’d just go back inside. So, he kept working, unbothered, and didn't look up.

"Loose hinges?" she asked.

Courtesies. He wasn't falling for it. "Mhm."

He knew when he wasn't wanted. She was finding her feet now, somewhat starting to take care of herself, carefully taking care of Maya. She didn’t need him checking in, didn’t need him hovering. And maybe—maybe that should’ve felt like a relief. It didn’t.

"You need anything else?" he asked, voice gruffer than he meant it to be.

"No, I just..." Leela wavered, softly, like she already knew he was about to shut her down. "I wanted to say thank you. For helping me out these few weeks. I couldn't have done it without you."

Joel finally glanced up at that. Just a flicker.

Leela shifted in her puffy pants, adjusting Maya against her shoulder. The baby girl was bundled up tight, small fists curled into her mouth, watching him with that blank, childlike wonder in big eyes. It took every bit of strength he had to not fall for that, and just forget everything that happened.

Joel hung his head, nodding again, keeping his focus downward on the screw.

She was being friendly. Trying to meet him halfway. And he hated that this was what it had come to—that she felt like she had to say something, to extend some kind of olive branch, when all he’d done was build a wall between them. For no fucking reason.

He straightened up with a muffled grunt, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Nothin’ to thank me for. It was all you."

She half-laughed, something wry and knowing. "I know that's not true."

Joel glanced up, stiffening, but she wasn’t looking at him, just rubbing slow circles into Maya’s back, pressing a slow kiss to the top of her head, consoling herself.

He knew what she was doing. He wasn’t stupid.

She was trying to make things normal again. Like they hadn’t spent nights under the same roof. Like he hadn’t seen her fall apart. Like she wasn’t still here, right now, offering him something—a small, careful thing—and he was too much of a coward to take it.

So he didn’t.

Joel scratched the back of his neck with the screwdriver, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. "You oughta get inside," he said instead. "It’s too cold for the kid."

Leela’s expression flickered. Not hurt. Just resigned. He felt like he'd ripped the bandaid off a baby.

"Okay. Yes." She slowly nodded but hesitated a step back. Then—too quietly, almost like an afterthought—"It’s nice to see you around, Joel."

And with that, she started back down the road, holding Maya closer by her head, and Joel let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. That was better. Cleaner.

He grabbed his tools and turned back to his door, locking his jaw. He hadn’t meant to come off short, but it was better this way. Best to stay in his own lane. Best not to make something out of nothing. That’s what he told himself.

But later that night, when he was eating that damn delicious soup she’d left for him by his door—still warm, still considerate—he felt like a grade-A asshole.

From then on, it was Tommy who had taken over fixing the nursery, finishing what Joel had started. He figured that was for the best. It kept things clean. Tied up loose ends. He had no business stepping into that house anymore, no reason to.

And yet, his eyes always caught the details—the way the curtains in the nursery window shifted, the way light flickered between the slats, the way the wood he had sanded and painted was still unfinished, the way Tommy started bringing someone else along.

Mal.

Joel had seen him before, a younger guy with an afro that Tommy had taken under his wing. Handy with repairs, and good with his hands. Nothing special.

At first, Mal actually worked. Brought his toolbox, put up a few shelves, and nodded along to whatever Tommy said. Kept to himself. But then—things started changing. Mal started staying longer. Talking... to her. Right on the front stoop until the sun went down.

It was fine at first. Two steps between them. Then one. Then none at all. Soon, he was leaning close on the porch railing, shoulders nearly brushing hers, speaking in low, easy tones that Joel couldn’t quite make out from across the street. And then—laughter. Leela’s laughter. Soft, hesitant, but real.

More than Joel had ever gotten out of her. Not that he’d ever tried.

Tommy and Maria stopped coming around entirely. It was just Mal now. Every goddamn day. He’d stroll up, toolbox in hand, tap on the door, and then—nothing. No sounds of work being done. No hammering, no shifting furniture. Just conversation.

Joel told himself it didn’t matter. Repeated it like a prayer, like a lesson he should’ve learned by now. That whatever Leela did, whoever she let into her home, was none of his business. That was the whole point of leaving, wasn’t it? Cutting ties, walking away.

He didn’t care about the way Mal lingered on that porch, didn’t care about the way Leela had started looking at him—not quite wary, not quite inviting. Like she was still learning how to trust people but was willing to try. Didn’t care about the way Maya reached for Mal, the tiny fingers curling into his beard, the easy way Mal let her.

And yet, he always saw it.

The way Mal leaned just a little closer, the way Leela’s shoulders, once so tight and drawn, started to loosen. The way her fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleeves when she spoke to him, soft and hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to enjoy the conversation.

Joel hated how much he noticed. It was worse when he overheard them.

He'd been out all damn day. Sun up to sundown, rifle slung over his shoulder, dealing with raiders, clickers, and everything in between. The kind of day that made his bones ache, that made his back scream when he so much as breathed wrong. The kind of day where all he wanted was to go home, put his feet up, and maybe—just maybe—close his eyes for longer than ten damn minutes.

But no. Because just as he was rounding the corner to his place, the world ready to lay even more shit on him, he heard them.

"You mean to tell me no one's ever spun you around before?" Mal was saying.

Joel's step faltered. He should’ve kept walking. Should’ve ignored it. But of course, he didn’t. Joel adjusted his grip on the sack slung over his shoulder, slowing his pace, letting their voices drift through the cold evening air.

Leela snorted, light and dismissive. "Like dancing?"

"Exactly like," Mal confirmed, smooth as you please. "Having a little fun, letting go, feeling the music. Bet you don’t do much of that."

Joel’s fingers curled around the strap of his bag, grip tightening.

"There's more pressing matters than romance," Leela muttered, but she was laughing.

Joel didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t like the way she said it. Playful. Entertained. That was the first thing that rubbed Joel the wrong way. The second was the way the kid kept talking.

"Well, I bet Maya’s never even seen her mama all dolled up before, huh? Imagine that, baby girl," Mal cooed, and Maya's sweet crool followed like a melody.

Fuck this.

Joel didn’t hear Leela’s response, didn’t hear whatever she said next, because he was already moving—boots heavy, hands fisted, the strap of his bag biting into his palm.

The frozen dirt beneath his boots crunched as he made his way there, shoulders squared, hackles raised, barely restraining the urge to grab that kid by the collar and shake some goddamn sense into him.

Because who the hell did this punk think he was?

Talking like that, acting like Leela was some blushing girl to be sweet-talked. Like she hadn’t spent the last few weeks barely holding herself together. Like she hadn’t bled for that kid in her arms. Like Joel hadn’t been the one who—

He stopped himself there. Tamped it down. Shoved it deep into the pit of his stomach where all the other shit lived.

Instead, he turned away, kept his head down and walked straight home, fists tight around anything. By the time he kicked the door shut behind him, his jaw ached from how hard he’d been clenching it. Fucking Mal.

Joel dumped the sack of supplies on the table and went straight for the bottle. Pulled the cork out with his teeth, and poured himself a glass with a hand that was damn near steady.

He took a sip. Let it burn. Let it settle. Then he muttered, "Goddamn kid."

He wasn’t mad. Not really. Because why should he be?

She liked him. Sure, he wanted her to be happy. If that happened, he'd finally get a good night's sleep. And yet, it wouldn't mean a fucking thing to him if Mal was the reason. One day when he's going to see her and Mal inside her home, silver rings glinting off their hands, little Maya nestled between them, the picture of a perfect family...

Joel knocked back the rest of the whiskey and swallowed hard. Good. That was good. Good for her. She didn't need him. Maya wouldn't need him. He'd butt out and live alone, in peace.

He set the glass down a little harder than he meant to. Stared at it. Then, just to be sure, he muttered it out loud.

"Ain't my problem."

But the facts remained.

She still wasn’t eating much or sleeping well. The dark circles under her eyes hadn’t faded. She still rubbed at her temples when she thought no one was looking, still blinked a little too long, like she was fighting off exhaustion every second of the day. Food was out of compulsion, not hunger, for the sake of staying healthy for Maya.

And then, one night, he saw her asleep on the porch swing. Curled in on herself, arms tucked tight, shivering slightly against the cold, exhaustion dragging her under where she sat.

It took everything in him not to walk over and wake her. To shake her by the shoulder, drag her inside, make sure she was warm. It took everything in him not to care.

Because this wasn’t his anymore. He had no claim over them.

Didn’t change the fact that every time he saw Mal leaning against that railing, looking like he belonged there like he’d always belonged there—that knot in his chest twisted tighter.

And he hated that, too.

Joel had truly been looking forward to dinner. It was the same thing every week. He’d go over to Tommy's, have a decent meal, shoot the shit with his brother, and let Ellie fill in the gaps of conversation. It was comfortable. Familiar. Nice. A welcome change from the silence of his own home, from days spent running the same damn circuit—patrol, repairs, the bar, then back to a house that wasn’t a home, not really.

But tonight, something was off. Joel could feel it from the moment he sat down.

Maybe it was the way Maria and Ellie kept glancing at him like they were waiting for something. Or maybe it was just Tommy—sitting across from him, chewing through a mouthful of steak, his expression too nonchalant like he had something up his sleeve.

Joel didn’t think much of it at first. He focused on his food, carving through the meat, grounding himself in the scrape of his fork against the plate.

Then Tommy opened his big hole of a mouth.

"Mal’s been spending a lot of time over at Leela’s place."

Joel’s hand tensed around his knife. And just like that, his appetite was gone. He kept his face neutral and didn’t look up. Just kept chewing, lagging and deliberate motions, like he hadn’t heard a damn thing.

Tommy, either oblivious or just plain cruel, kept going. "Helpin’ out with the nursery. Putting some time in with the baby girl." He ripped a piece of bread in half, completely unaware of the way Joel’s grip had turned his fork into a weapon. "Good guy. He and Leela get along well. It's nice to see."

Joel exhaled slowly through his nose. Focused on his plate. Flattened a piece of potato with the back of his fork. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t his problem. That was the whole goddamn point, wasn’t it?

He’d helped Leela out. Gave her time. Took care of her baby. That was it. She was somebody else’s problem now. And yet, the idea of some guy stepping into his place, rocking Maya to sleep, working on the nursery, fixing things, being there—his mouth flattened into a hard line. It stung.

No. It wasn’t his place to care. He'd told himself so many times, it felt like one of those daily affirmations bullshit. Thou shall not think of thy neighbour's handyman and his fuckeries.

Though, still, before he could stop himself, the words were already out of his mouth. "Nursery ain’t even done yet."

The second it left him, he regretted it. A beat of silence.

Then, slowly, too slowly, Joel looked up—and immediately hated what he saw. Maria and Ellie were smirking. That stupid, all-too-knowing, ready-to-annoy-the-shit-out-of-him-smirk. He had the greatest urge to leave the room.

Maria lifted an eyebrow. "And how exactly would you know that, Joel?"

Joel pursed his lips casually, setting his fork down with a little too much care. "They live right across the damn street. Hard to miss."

Ellie leaned forward, propping her chin on her fist. "Right. And how much time do you spend looking across the damn street?"

He massaged the bridge of his nose. "Don’t start, Ellie."

Tommy tilted his head, giving him a look that made Joel want to knock his damn teeth out. "You’ve been actin’ real funny ever since you left that house, y’know."

"Ain’t nothin’ to act on," Joel muttered, shifting in his seat. "I helped her out. End of story. Moving on."

Tommy wasn't letting go, damn him. "Uh-huh. Then why you sittin’ here lookin’ like you just bit into a bad lemon the second her name came up?"

Joel’s jaw ticked.

"Yeah," Ellie added, grinning. "Why’s your face doing that thing?"

Joel frowned. "What thing?"

She pointed with her fork to the furrows above his eyebrows. "The thing where you pretend you don’t care, but your forehead says otherwise."

Maria hid a knowing smile behind her glass while Joel rubbed at his face consciously, glaring over at Ellie. "You could just go over there, you know."

Joel let out a short, humourless chuckle. "Oh, c'mon. For what?"

"Dinner," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just a meal with friends. Tommy, me, you, Ellie—Leela and Maya. Nothing big."

Joel stared down at his plate. His food had gone cold.

"We don’t need to be doin’ all that," he muttered, shaking his head. Getting familiar and cosy. It'd only invite more trouble.

Maria ignored him. "She’s got that nice, big dining room. French windows. Good view of the lawn. It’d be like a little party."

Joel didn’t respond.

"Come on, man," Tommy pressed. "What’s stopping you?"

That was the question, wasn’t it? Joel wasn’t sure he had an answer. Or maybe he did—and just didn’t want to say it.

Because the truth was, he had no business going back. He’d done what he came to do. He’d helped. That was it.

But then there was Maya—her featherlight body in his arms, the way she’d reached for his shirt in her sleep. There was Leela—standing in the doorway that last morning, silent, watching him go. There was the stillness in his own house, the way he’d catch himself in the middle of the night, listening for a cry that never came. What the hell was wrong with him?

Instead, he just stabbed his fork into his potato and muttered, "Pass."

Maria and Ellie exchanged another conspiratorial glance. And Joel had the distinct feeling this wasn’t over.

Once dinner had progressed into a chore, Ellie and Joel, ever the gentleman, helped Tommy dry the dishes. Well—Joel did. Ellie, on the other hand, was just sitting on the counter, swinging her legs and cracking jokes about Tommy’s new manbun. The kitchen was warm, the soft clatter of dishes filling the space and laughter, the steak dinner still settling in Joel’s stomach.

“You’re really doing the whole ponytail thing now, huh?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, flicking on the tap. “Jesus, you sound like Joel.”

“Hey, you take that back! I am way cooler than Joel,” Ellie corrected. “And I'm a thousand times funnier. Pun-nier.”

“Debatable,” Joel muttered.

“Did Maria do this to you?” she asked, flicking a sudsy fork in Joel’s direction. “Blink twice if you need help. I've got emergency scissors.”

Tommy snorted, stacking the last plate in the cabinet. “It’s practical. And I'm starting to like it.”

Ellie tilted her head, unimpressed. “It's lazy. Tragic.”

Joel smirked but said nothing, wiping down a plate before handing it over. Tommy shot him a glare like he was expecting some backup, but Joel just shrugged. Not his fight.

Maria walked in from behind them, and Joel noticed that infuriating look on her face. Oh, nothing good would come out of this. She set a small box on the counter with a dull thud, right beside Joel. He barely glanced at it before she plopped another paper box on top—leftovers from tonight. Steak and potatoes just for a special someone.

“Could you pass this on to Leela on your way back?” she said casually, drying her hands. “It's one dose a day, each.”

Joel looked down, his hands bracing against the counter. Vitamins. Of course.

Maria tapped the food box. “And dinner.”

Joel eyed them both, then her. The way she said it, like it was no big deal. Like she hadn’t just put him in a position he couldn’t easily wiggle out of.

He sighed, already seeing where this was going. He set down the dish towel, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tommy can pass it to her tomorrow.”

Maria simply raised an eyebrow. “Meat’s gonna go bad.”

Joel narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so this is how you’re gonna play it?” He glanced at Tommy, then Ellie, both of whom were very pointedly looking elsewhere. “Really?”

Ellie grinned. “It’s a neighbourly thing to do, Joel. Don't you call yourself a gentleman?”

“I’m with her on that one,” Tommy added, crossing his arms.

Joel let out a slow, irritated breath. Family? No, just a bunch of annoying, traitorous little shits.

Maria only smiled, sliding the box closer to him. “Wouldn’t want her going without. She's already skin and bones. And you know... you live right across the damn street.”

Ellie burst out laughing, raising her fist to Maria, who bumped with her own knowing smile. “Respect.”

Joel clenched his jaw. She'd got him right where she wanted. Because now, if he didn’t take the stupid thing, he’d look like an asshole. And Maria knew that. She was being fucking shameless about it.

His gaze flickered down to the box. Then, before he could stop himself and leave them standing, an image surfaced—Leela, sitting on that damn porch swing, curled up against the cold. Maya’s tiny fingers tugging at her collar, red-cheeked, catching swirling snow in her dark curls.

Joel closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't shake it off. And he admitted it to himself, despite all his grievances against this, he missed them. He missed Leela's soft footsteps in the nursery past midnight, he missed Maya entirely. He missed the sense of normalcy once the blood and gore of patrol ended, to head to a warm home and lay down, exhausted, knowing he hadn't had a drink to fall asleep.

Then, wordlessly, he grabbed the boxes off the counter.

Ellie elbowed Tommy in the ribs, giggling. “See? Look at him. Good ol’ Joel, real man of the people.”

Joel shot her a warning look while heading over to grab his jacket, the delivery under his arm. “Don’t push it, kid.” Then pointed a threatening finger at Tommy as he yanked the front door open. “Can't believe we're related.”

Tommy only puckered his lips at him, miming a kiss. “Mensch Miller.”

The house across the street was unlocked again.

Joel stood at the threshold, jaw clenched, boots planted firm against the porch floorboards. The door was cracked open, swaying slightly from the evening breeze, the light from inside spilling out onto the steps. Did she even care about safety? It should’ve been locked. It should’ve been bolted shut, curtains drawn, an armoury stacked by the doorway. But Leela still acted like the world wasn’t what it was. Like Jackson was different.

It had been a whole two months since Leela brought Maya into this world, a month of struggling, of barely eating, barely sleeping, barely breathing. And now she had the nerve to leave her door wide open like she was inviting trouble? Like Jackson was some safe little haven where nothing bad could ever happen? A dangerous thing, that kind of trust. He’d seen what happened to people who had it.

His jaw ticked. He took the porch steps two at a time and pushed the door open without knocking.

Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of woodsmoke and something faintly sweet—baby powder, maybe, or that lavender soap Maria kept handing out. The fire crackled low in the hearth, throwing restless shadows across the room, licking at the edges of the high-backed armchair and the mathematics-riddled books and papers neatly stacked up in scatters.

And there she was, standing in front of it. Leela was running a brush through her hair, violently. Dragging it down, tangling it further, hissing under her breath when it snagged. Frustrated, impatient. Needed a haircut.

The same damn nightgown again. White, sleeveless, falling in soft folds just past her knees. But this time, his eyes caught the details—the way a single pearl button at her collar had been left open carelessly, the way the thin cotton made the dark silhouette of her body visible beneath, and the odd little cherries sewn sparsely into the fabric. Small, stitched by hand.

He had no idea why all that stood out to him. It just did. And boy, did it leave nothing to the imagination.

Leela stilled, catching sight of him in the doorway. The brush hung mid-stroke in her hand.

“Oh,” she said, like he hadn’t just barged into her house uninvited. “Hello.”

Her eyes and voice were warm. Soft, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she wasn’t standing there in nothing but a slip of a dress while the light of the fire turned her edge golden.

Joel forced his gaze away. His eyes flicked over the living room instead, to the couch against the far wall—his couch, as much as he hated to admit it. The blankets were still there, folded neatly, stacked with the pillows like she’d been expecting him to come back. His grip tightened around the boxes in his hands.

“I—” He cleared his throat, stepping forward, extending the boxes toward her. “Maria sent you some stuff.”

Leela blinked again before setting the hairbrush down, padding toward him on bare feet. She took the boxes gently, fingers barely brushing his. “Thank you, Joel,” she murmured, flashing a little smile.

“Just vitamins,” he played off.

She pried the lid off the larger box and inhaled deeply. He caught the way her nose twitched, her fingers tightening just a fraction around the edges.

“Her famous steak dinner,” he offered her.

And then, like clockwork, her stomach betrayed her, the low grumble cutting through the quiet between them. She stiffened, laughing, breathless and sheepish.

“Sorry.”

“You should eat—”

A sharp cry cut through the air, calling for her. Both their heads swung toward the staircase.

Leela sighed first, setting the boxes away. “Napkin,” she murmured, as if reciting from a schedule. “Please help yourself to anything. I’ll be right back.”

But Joel stepped forward, one arm extended, the box acting as a barrier between her and the stairs. He despised the unfamiliarity.

"Eat," he said, firm.

She hesitated. Her gaze flickered between him and the staircase, like she was weighing her options, debating whether to argue or just go along with it.

Another cry echoed from upstairs—short, needy. Joel could tell. It wasn’t hunger, wasn’t pain. Little Maya was lonely already.

“I got this,” he assured.

Leela chewed her lip. “But—”

“I know the drill.” He jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “Just eat.”

A long moment passed, heavy with hesitation. Then, finally, she relented, her shoulders sagging as she breathed in surrender. She took the box from him.

“I’ll grab a fork, I guess,” she muttered, turning toward the kitchen.

Joel smothered a grin while watching her go, and took the stairs two at a time, powerless to his anticipation. Two weeks since he held the baby girl. He'd missed the shit out of her, not that he would admit that to anybody. Of course, he wasn't about to pass up this chance for anything.

From the landing, the nursery's door cracked open, light from the hallway bleeding into the dim room. Joel frowned as he leaned in to inspect.

The first thing he noticed was that the crib had moved. His boots made no sound over the wooden floor as he stepped inside, scanning the space. The wooden shelves were up, already home to Maya's folded clothes, towels and napkins. The light installation dangled halfway, unfixed. No one had even begun work on painting the walls. No armchair. No rug.

This Mal guy was a complete jackass. Maya's nursery was a mess.

"Good with his hands, my ass," Joel muttered. "What a fuckin' tool."

Joel angrily followed the hallway light, stepping through the open doorway into the furthest bedroom, a room bigger than any he’d ever seen in Jackson.

Massive was an understatement. This was the kind of bedroom you’d see in a damn commercial—the kind of thing he would’ve scoffed at, once upon a time. The bed alone was ridiculous. Olympic-sized, sunken into a floor for itself, with plush, overstuffed pillows and thick sheets, barely disturbed. A sliding-door closet stood at the far end, pristine, untouched. A plasma-screen TV mounted to the opposite wall, thick with dust.

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line. There was something unnatural about it. The way it felt more like a untouched display than her bedroom.

Maya’s cries pulled him from his thoughts. Joel crossed the room, approaching the crib—the one he’d worked on. All pink and polished for the spoiled little girl.

The moment she saw him, her cries hitched. Big, teary brown eyes blinked up at him, wide and glistening, like she was struggling to focus. She sniffled, tiny fists flexing against the mattress, mouth wobbling around her jutting tongue, as if trying to place him.

Joel couldn't resist a grin, brushing a coarse knuckle at her soft cheek.

“Hi, baby girl.” Then leaned closer to whisper, “Traitor.”

Maya sniffled, blinking again, then reached for him—small fingers curling, grasping blindly before finding his much larger one, tugging it toward her mouth. She gummed at his gnarled knuckles with a fussy little noise, her brows furrowing in concentration.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That ain't fair. That's your apology?”

Maya made another small whimper of a sound. And a real smile. A big, toothless, gummy grin, full of warmth and recognition. Something nearly uncoiled at his ribs.

He pulled a so-so face. “Hm, I'll bite.”

It was muscle memory, really. The way his hands moved—effortless, practised. He'd done it more than fifty times in two weeks. He made quick work of the napkin, wiping her clean, then slid his hands beneath her arms, lifting her up in one smooth motion.

He grunted as he did, “C'mere, sweetheart. You beautiful, beautiful girl. Did you miss me, huh?”

She squealed, legs kicking excitedly as he cradled her against his chest, supporting her head the way he always did. And just like that, he eased into the old rhythm without thinking. That familiar weight against him, that warmth—gentle, swaying, murmuring under his breath. It was easy. Too easy. Like breathing. Like falling asleep.

She nestled into his shoulder, tiny fist pressing against his neck, seeking his warmth. She’d gotten bigger. Not by much, but enough. Still delicate, still small—but stronger now. More aware. Smart, like her mother.

"Yeah, you missed me," he murmured when she nuzzled against his neck.

And then—pure, infallible instinct—he dipped his nose into her hair and breathed her in deep. Soft linen and old cotton, warm and faint.

Sarah used to smell like this once. For just a little while. That same invisible claw tore at his memories. Joel closed his eyes, just for a second. He remembered how, when she outgrew it, he'd missed it terribly. How he’d sometimes let her sleep curled up in his arms all night long, his back against the headboard, just to hold onto that smell. Just to keep that small, fleeting moment of innocence before the world could take it away.

That nostalgia settled deep in his ribs, quiet and whole. This seemed like the only place in the world where suffering didn’t exist. Like his hands weren’t stained with all the things he’d done, all the lives he’d taken.

Because here, right now, with Maya, he wasn’t the man who had lost and lost and lost again. He wasn’t the man who’d left behind nothing but bodies and broken promises. No, she didn’t know any of that. She didn’t care.

She only knew his warmth. She knew the steady beat of his heart, the scratch of his beard against her soft skin, and the way he said her name. She only knew him as someone safe. And fuck, he wasn’t, he wasn’t, but—

God help him, he wanted to be.

Maya sighed, a tiny, content sound, pressing closer. And Joel—he let himself believe, just for a moment, that he was clean.

A soft gasp behind him made him turn to reality and toward the door. “Oh, Maya.”

Joel turned to find Leela standing in the doorway, hand to her mouth, eyes wide in amusement. She had changed—finally—into one of those oversized sweaters he’d seen her wear on colder nights, sleeves swallowing her hands. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at his chest.

Joel frowned. “What?”

Leela bit her lip, trying—failing—to smother a smile. She motioned vaguely toward him. Joel tracked her finger and glanced to the side. And felt it. Hot, damp.

Damned baby spit-up.

Maya’s little betrayal soaked through the fabric of his shirt, spreading down from his collar and shoulder to his chest in an uneven, milky stain. She smacked her lips contentedly against his collarbone, completely unaware of the mess she’d just made.

He sighed, shifting her to the other arm. He levelled her with a playful glare. “You gonna warn me next time you ruin my shirt, darlin'?”

Maya only gurgled in response, a soft, pleased little sound.

And then, following her daughter—Leela laughed.

Not the quiet, polite kind that he'd managed out of her once. Not the forced kind, either. A real laugh. Breathless, unexpected, warm. Like it had slipped out before she could stop it.

Joel felt it like a slow-moving punch to the gut. He didn’t hear that sound often. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard it before on his account. He'd finally done it.

It changed something about her, softening her face in a way that caught him off guard. Her eyes creased at the corners, the tightness in her shoulders eased, the exhaustion in her expression smoothed over—just for a moment.

It did something strange to him. Something he didn’t have the time to name. So he just exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath as he adjusted Maya over to the other arm, rubbing a hand over his damp shirt.

“Yeah, real funny. Your girl just aired her paunch all over me,” he grumbled.

Leela tried to sober up, apologizing, but another chuckle slipped out in between, and Joel caught the way she bit her lip, fighting to suppress it.

She was enjoying this. And he was in big fucking trouble.

"Don't move. I'll get you a spare shirt," she said, laughing, before walking to the adjacent closet doors.

Joel didn’t even get the chance to protest before Leela slid one side of the closet doors open, revealing—sweet Jesus.

His eyes landed on the neat rows of men’s clothing hanging inside. Not just a few misplaced items, not something left behind by chance. An entire collection.

Button-downs, slacks, henleys—clothes meant for daily wear. Added into the mix, were pressed suits, the kind that cost more than a month’s worth of supplies, the kind men used to wear to skyscrapers and boardrooms, back when the world was still upright. And golf shirts. For fuck’s sake, golf shirts.

Joel’s jaw hinged back up. Golf was a rich man’s game. He’d worked jobs near country clubs in his past life, and seen the kind of people who played. Men with money. Her father, perhaps.

Leela had definitely grown up rich. And looking at this—this untouched wealth, just sitting here, long past its time—it became clear. She probably still was.

Joel’s grip on Maya shifted slightly, the warmth of the baby pressing into his chest the only real thing anchoring him as his eyes dragged over the closet once more.

For all that Leela lived like a ghost, for all that she barely let anyone near her, this place still held echoes of what she came from. A past life that didn’t match the woman he’d seen standing at her front door, exhausted and hollow-eyed, desperate for her baby to stop crying.

Leela flipped through the hangers without hesitation, fingers brushing past labels he recognized—Armani, Burberry, Hollister. Eventually, she pulled out a green pullover. Soft, fine material. A little small for him, but it’d do.

She turned, offering it wordlessly.

Joel didn’t move to take it right away.

He was still staring at the closet. Not because he gave a damn about how much a fucking sweater cost, or whether she had a trust fund hidden away somewhere, but because it told him something. Something he hadn’t really thought about before.

Leela had come from comfort. Stability. A world where things were taken care of. And yet she’d buried herself in this big, empty house, alone, fighting tooth and nail to survive—like everyone else. And she never asked for help.

Leela cleared her throat. "It should fit. My father was a tall man."

Joel managed a sigh, shifting Maya in his arms. He took the pullover with one hand, already halfway through plucking open the buttons of his flannel.

While he worked, Leela stepped closer, ready to take Maya. She was quick about it, but Joel caught the way her fingers lingered, just for a second, as she scooped the baby up from his arms. Not on Maya.

On him.

Joel really tried to push it out of his head, write it off as an illusion, already plucking open the buttons of his shirt. His fingers brushed the fabric, and he paused when he caught the tag inside. Ralph Lauren, for fuck's sake.

Leela noticed with a small smile. "I didn’t take you for a man with fancy taste," she mused.

Joel let out a dry snort. "Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it."

He pulled off his flannel, the sleeves catching briefly on his wrists before he tossed it aside. The room wasn’t cold, but the air bit at his skin anyway. The scars felt it first—every healed cut, every old wound stretched over knotted muscle, each one a reminder of what his body had been through.

"Oh, man," he couldn't help but grunt, stretching his arms.

He worked the pullover over his head in one smooth motion, the fabric soft, snug across his shoulders. Felt like something he would’ve bought for Sarah back in the day, something she’d pull from a Macy’s rack, nodding in approval before insisting, "Dad, just try it on."

It fit better than he expected, but Joel barely registered that. His body had begun to ache. Not in one place—everywhere. It was late at night, it was cold, he missed his daily dose of whiskey, and he needed sleep for tomorrow.

The exhaustion sat in his bones now, permanent and familiar. His bad knee throbbed, aggravated from the cold, from the weight he put on it patrolling for hours at a time. His back had never been the same after that one fall, a long time ago. Some mornings, he woke up and could barely stand straight, feeling every single one of his years sink into him.

And yet, his body still held. Still worked. It wasn’t much to look at anymore. Not that it ever had been.

He had no delusions about himself—he wasn’t built for admiration. Never had been. Picking up girls and fooling around; was Tommy's thing. He wasn’t the kind of man people looked at twice, not in the way that mattered. His body told a story, but not the sort anyone wanted to read or had a happy ending,

His hands were ruined things, thick with callouses from years of exertion, from gripping rifle stocks, from skinning game, from chopping wood in the dead of winter. His knuckles were perpetually split, healing just enough before the next fight, the next job, the next reason to curl his fists. Scars mapped his skin, uneven and jagged, old bullet wounds and knife cuts, hard edges, marks of a life spent fighting for something—for anything.

He wasn’t young anymore. He wasn’t some smooth-talking son of a bitch with a face that turned heads. He was always angry at something, thinking about something, readying his next step, even if it was a complete waste of his time.

But he was still formidable. He could protect. He could endure the rough-hewn demands of survival, even now. He could fight like hell. That had to count for something.

But Leela—she wasn’t staring, exactly. Wasn’t not staring, either. It was subtle. Barely there. A flicker of something implicit, something fleeting, the way her gaze traced along his arms, his shoulders, abdomen, the sharp cut of his collarbone before snapping away. As if she hadn’t meant to look, and she’d caught herself a second too late.

Joel had been around long enough to recognize when a woman was checking him out. And hell—he wasn’t gonna lie to himself. It made him feel good. Fucking fantastic, really. Like he could wake up tomorrow feeling twenty years younger. Like he could leap right out of bed and his back wouldn’t stiffen before noon. Like he still had something left in him worth looking at.

He wasn’t an idiot, though. He wasn't going to let it go to his head.

Leela adjusted Maya in her arms, moving her weight as if giving herself something to do, something to focus on that wasn’t him.

And Joel—he pretended not to notice. Didn’t say a damn word about it. Didn’t shift under her gaze, didn’t smirk at her, didn’t let her see that she’d gotten under his skin in a way he hadn’t expected.

Just muttered a quiet, "Thanks," and left it at that.

Leela hummed in response, turning away to lay Maya down, who was already dozing her little head off, into the crib with practised care. Then, just as easily, she pivoted back to her bedside dresser, fingers moving over a stack of neatly folded quadrille paper.

"Can you pass something to Tommy for me?" she asked, voice soft, controlled. "It’s really important he gets this as soon as possible."

Joel might not have paid it much mind, might’ve brushed it off as just another errand he wasn’t keen on running—but then he saw it. The way her posture stiffened, the way her hands smoothed over the edges of the papers like they were something fragile, something vital. But whatever this was—it mattered.

She flipped through the pages, and for the first time since he’d met her, he saw something rare. Excitement. A flicker of life.

"It’s a wonderful breakthrough, Joel," she said, and there was a rare enough lightness in her voice, bordering on unguarded enthusiasm.

Joel just blinked. Leela wasn’t the type to get excited. Or maybe he's just never seen it in her before.

"So, I’ve been working on…" then she went into something technical for his dense mind, talking fast in words that blurred together. It all went miles over his head. Circuits, electrical theory, conduction points—half of it might as well have been a foreign language.

Joel just stared when she finished with a deep breath.

Leela instantly caught the look and pursed her lips. "Okay, um. Let me put it this way."

She shifted toward him, gesturing as she spoke, putting it into Layman's terms. "You know how the dam stops producing enough energy in winter? When the river freezes over?"

Joel gave a slow nod.

"So we rely on fuel, but fuel’s very limited. We've got the town expanding, and people coming in. So our batteries drain. If we had an alternative energy source, something reliable—" She held up the paper, tapping a rough sketch. "And that’s where this comes in."

Her hands moved as she spoke, cutting through the air with sharp, purposeful gestures. Not just passion, not just expertise. Conviction.

"Lightning is erratic, but it’s raw power. Joules of energy. Think about it. If we can direct a strike into a controlled medium—like a graphene capacitor—we can store it."

Joel narrowed his eyes, the concept clicking into his lagging brain. "So what, you think you can catch a goddamn thunderstorm and turn it into a battery?"

Leela wheezed a quiet laugh. "More or less."

He thought about it. "Seems like a hell of a thing to gamble on."

"It’s not a gamble. It’s math. Physics. It will work, Joel, I know it."

Joel didn’t argue. He didn’t understand it, not really, but he’d seen Leela work before. He trusted her genius. The nights she couldn't sleep—he’d sometimes blink awake to the sound of chalk scraping against a blackboard, catching sight of her standing there in the dim glow of the bulb, mapping something out with surgical precision. Or hunched over a notebook, scribbling feverishly, lost in calculations that only made sense to her.

It wasn’t just her passion—it was her outlet. A relief. A tether to something greater than herself, something she could control before she lost herself completely in the demands of motherhood. And if this was what she was holding onto, then perhaps it was more than just an idea.

She tucked the paper back into the stack, leveling him with a quiet look. "I also have a prototype," she said simply.

Joel raised a brow.

Leela nodded toward the hallway. "It’s in the basement if you want to see."

Joel wasn’t big on machines. Or gear. The finer technical details weren’t for him. But—he glanced at her, at the way she stood, weight shifting from foot to foot, something unreadable behind her eyes.

She wasn’t pushing him. She was waiting.

After a beat, he sighed, tilting his head toward the door. "Lead the way, ma'am."

The stairs were steep, the kind that creaked under their weight, but Joel kept a firm hold on Leela’s elbow, steadying her as they made their way down. She was still weak. Too breakable. As far as his knowledge went, she should've gotten better by now. And how the hell was she supposed to do that when she barely ate without cringing?

Joel had half a mind to tell her that, to point out how unsteady she was, how she winced when she put too much pressure on her feet—but she’d just brush him off with a shaky smile. So instead, he let out a quiet breath through his nose and adjusted his grip, keeping her close until they reached the bottom.

"There you go. Watch that last step," he guided as gently as he could.

She glanced up at him from the fringes of a smile, letting his hands go. "Thank you."

He expected damp walls, waterlogged corners, mould creeping up the corners, and a basement that smelled like rot and rust. As what he had been always used to when he went scouring towns nearby for supplies. What he got instead stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he blew out.

It was a workshop. A big-ass one. Tools lined up on the magnetic walls, neatly arranged, half-finished projects sitting on a worktable, schematics pinned up in careful rows. More of Leela's notes and markers, taped-up designs. Funny how there was life only around all this machinery. Off to the side, an old wine cellar, the glass cases still intact, though the bottles inside were coated in dust.

And then—the cars.

Joel let out a low whistle. Two of them. Just sitting there like some abandoned luxury showroom. One was a Dodge Aspen, a classic in its own right. All violet and under repair. But the other...—his eyes caught the silver emblem glinting under the dim basement light. A prancing horse on the red steel.

"Come on," he muttered in disbelief, stepping forward, barely resisting the urge to run his hand over the hood. "Is that a… Maranello?"

Leela took a deep breath, still recovering from the stairs. "Yes. Custom made. Not sure if there's any left out there anymore."

"Holy shit." His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t want to seem desperate, but fuck, when was the last time he’d seen something like this? Much less, been this close?

"Can I, uh…" He gestured indistinctly at the car.

Leela flashed him a small grin. "Knock yourself out. The door's unlocked."

He didn’t need to be told twice. Joel reached out, fingers brushing over cool, crimson steel before yanking the door open. The new car smell hit him right in the face—leather, polish, something untouched by time. His chest tensed at the familiarity of it.

He slid into the driver’s seat, running his hands over the wheel, the knitting around the stick shift, and the soft beige leather of the custom interior. And just for a second—he let himself imagine it. Top down. Gliding down the I-10, no speed limits, no patrols, just him and the open road, wind in his hair, sun on his face, Raybans on. That dream all felt like a lifetime ago.

A soft knock on the passenger side window startled him back to reality.

Leela’s face appeared through the glass, her lips quirked in amusement. "Should I leave you two alone?"

Joel huffed, turning slightly to mask the grin tugging at his mouth. She opened the door and drudged her way inside, moving slowly. The descent had taken more out of her than she was willing to admit.

When she shut the door, he immediately rolled down his window, straining his ears toward the stairs. The one time he wished his hearing wouldn't betray him. Had he locked the door upstairs? Could he hear Maya if she cried? What if he couldn’t? How come Leela didn't seem to think about this? God, this girl really had no clue.

Her voice broke into his thoughts. "I wish I knew how to drive it." She ran her hand absentmindedly over the dashboard, voice softer now, almost wistful. "I believe the last great invention of man was the automobile."

"You said it," he mumbled.

Joel glanced at her and did a little mental math. She must’ve been nine, maybe ten when the outbreak hit. No middle school. No high school. No road trips, no late-night drives with her friends, music blasting. No first kiss. Just one world ending, and another one starting—a crueler one.

Leela exhaled, long and slow, sinking deeper into the leather seat like she could melt into it. Her fingers drummed idly on the handlebars, tracing invisible patterns, slipping into an old rhythm—one she didn’t even seem aware of.

Then, soft as a whisper, she started humming.

It was unhurried, quiet, like something she’d sung to herself a thousand times before. But it was enough to make Joel pause, something about the tune pulling at him. A half-buried memory, something from before. He knew that song. Hadn’t heard it in years, but it was still there, lodged somewhere deep in the creases of his mind.

"That’s—" He frowned, tilting his head, listening closer. "That Patsy Cline?"

Leela glanced up, surprise flickering across her face before something warmer took its place. "Walkin’ After Midnight. Yeah."

Joel hid a grin. "That is way before your time."

"So?" She smirked, tipping her head back against the seat, fingers still tapping, moving. "I had old parents. Rubbed off on me."

A layer beneath her words made Joel tread carefully. He, of all people, knew how age could sit heavy on a person, how some things weren’t worth prying open.

"Can’t have been that old," he muttered, though he wasn’t sure why he said it.

"My mom was seventy-eight when she passed."

Joel blinked. "W-o-w." The syllables came out slow, one after the other before he could stop himself.

Leela let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes this time. She glanced down, her fingers still moving, trailing over the leather, the stitching, following some old path only she could see.

"I miss them every day," she said, voice softer now, more distant. "I’m grateful they singled me out of those photographs. Brought me here." She gestured vaguely to the house above her, her home, before exhaling, like she was letting something go. "I just hope I’m doing them proud."

Joel felt something shift, and he realized: too much sharing. It had to go both ways. And he was never going to be ready for that. So he did what he did best, avoided and threw her off the scent.

"Man," he said abruptly, with a cluck of his tongue, "if I had the keys and some fuel, I’d ride the hell outta this beauty." The words came out before he could stop them. "And die a happy old man."

Leela laughed. A loud laugh, sounding much like her daughter just then, deep in her chest, like she hadn't done it in a long time.

"It’s got fuel," she said, still grinning. "You can still ride it."

"Just sitting here like it's nothing." He shook his head, a small laugh rolling out. "Christ. This is amazing."

He glanced down at the stick shift, thumb absently tracing the edge of the gear knob, but something else caught his eye.

Her nightgown. Hitched up, ruffled around the tops of her thighs, loose fabric pooling where she sat. Bare skin. Soft, smooth, taut over lean bone—too much of it. The way she shifted, unthinking, rubbing one knee over the other, restless. He felt a rock dislodge in his throat.

Fuck. For all that he could be—a guardian, a protector—he had to be a man.

His fingers curled against his palm, an old instinct, something long-trained. Look away, don’t think about it. He turned back to the wheel, forcing his eyes forward. Dashboard. Windshield. Glove compartment. The thin layer of dust coating the steering column. Anything but the way one more inch of movement would have left too much for his mind to comprehend.

But the problem was—she hadn’t bothered to fix it. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t care. So why should he?

He swallowed, jaw flexing tight. Because that was the kind of man he was. Greying, frustrated, scarce on love.

His fingers twitched, itching for something to do, something to grab. Instead, he moved without thinking, across the partition—one finger. Just a light tug, barely a breath of a touch, dragging the hem of her gown down, covering her knees. A simple thing. A quiet thing. A mistake.

Her whole body jerked, a sharp intake of breath—like she’d been touched by fire. Really, Joel felt it more than he saw it. The way her muscles tensed, a shudder raced, the quick clutch of her fingers as she held the fabric in place now, suddenly conscious of it.

Shit.

He withdrew instantly, fingers curling into a fist on the steering wheel. Should’ve just minded his goddamn business. Stupid, stupid man.

For a second, the air between them felt too tight. Even with the windows rolled down and winter winds howling outside, he broke into a sweat.

"Didn't see it," she mumbled.

He just shook his head, a small, dismissive grunt, keeping his eyes straight ahead. And that was that.

But the silence that settled over them after wasn’t comfortable. Not one either of them knew how to break.

Joel exhaled through his nose, fixing his stare on the windshield., fingers tapping slowly against the wheel, like he could smooth out the moment just by waiting it out. Jesus, he should’ve never touched her. Should’ve let it be.

“So, that prototype of yours,” he attempted to distract, voice rough. “You got it nearby?”

No response.

He frowned, risked a glance at her—and stopped cold.

Leela sat stiff in the passenger seat, her posture folded in on itself. One slender hand curled at her side, gripping the hem of her nightgown tight until her knuckles went white, the other was pressed to her face, knuckles braced against her nose. Her eyes filled with tears in seconds.

A long, slow breath in, too shaky.

Joel’s stomach sank. He knew that sound. He had seen a lot of it in his time. Had seen grief in all its forms—loud, violent, shattering. But this—this was different. This was quiet, heavy, desperate.

Her shoulders hitched, her breath sucking in too sharp like she was holding something back—something about to give.

And then, just like that, as if a thread had been cut, she sucked in another sharp breath, her whole body curling forward, hands coming up to cover her face—and it hit.

That same soft, keening sound he’d heard from her room almost every night. The one that came through thin walls, muffled by pillows, engulfed by fatigue.

But this time, she wasn’t hiding.

And Joel—he didn’t know what to do. His hands flexed against the wheel, confused and useless.

She wasn’t supposed to be crying. Not because of his pathetic self. Whichever way he saw it, this was his fault. He’d crossed a line, broken through a wall he’d meant to keep standing, and now she was here—crying. Because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

His mouth opened, and his throat worked, but nothing happened. Fuck. What the hell was he even supposed to say? Everything seemed inappropriate. There was no justification for what he'd done.

His fingers curled tighter, nails digging into his palm. He had to fix it. Before it got worse.

His voice came out too rough, uncertain. “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Just go.”

It hit like a crack of thunder. A faint, clear command, strangled between a cry. His stomach twisted.

He hesitated for half a second, long enough to hear the way her breath hitched, how her fingers curled deeper into her hair, how she looked like she wanted to fold in on herself, disappear into the goddamn leather seat.

He swallowed, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

He'd had seen women cry before. Ellie, Tess, hell even Maria. He’d occasionally held them while they did. But not this. Not her. And he hated—hated—that it was because of him.

His fingers flexed against his sides, fighting the instinct to reach out, to fix something he wasn’t sure could be fixed. But she’d made herself perfectly clear. To leave her alone.

So he did.

He wrenched the door open, barely registering the way it swung shut behind him. Didn’t look back, didn’t breathe until he was back up the stairs and out the door.

As he jogged down the porch stairs, the cold biting sharper now, cutting straight through the thick weave of his sweater, Joel tried to breathe. Snowflakes clung to the expensive fabric, melting fast, sinking in. He barely noticed. His inhales came long, exhales too short, not quite ragged, but uneven—like he couldn’t get enough air, like something in his chest was pressing down too hard, and no matter how deep he pulled, it wasn’t letting up.

It wasn’t panic. He knew what that felt like all too well.

This was different. A slow, creeping wrongness. A feeling that something had already slipped through his fingers, something he hadn’t even realized he was holding onto. And now it was gone, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to fix it.

He pressed a hand to his mouth, and wiped it down the scruff on his jaw, trying to steady himself, trying to shove it all back where it belonged. It wasn’t working.

His fingers curled into an aching fist. His breath fogged in the air in clouds.

He needed that fucking drink now.

The cold still lingered in the morning air, settling deep in Joel’s bones, but that wasn’t the only thing weighing him down. He hadn’t slept worth a damn. Tossed and turned all night, drifting in and out of restless half-dreams—images he didn’t want, memories he didn’t need. He woke up cold, despite the blankets, with a dull ache in his joints, and a scratch in his throat. Maybe from the weather. Maybe from something else.

Didn’t matter.

What mattered was getting out of that house. Getting up, getting moving. Keeping his hands busy, keeping his mind from straying where it wanted to go—back to last night, back to the way she had curled in on herself, hands to her face, shaking with something he couldn’t fix. He despised being around something unfixable. Made him feel incompetent.

He gripped the stack of papers tighter, the edges digging into his fingers as he stepped into the stables. Tommy was there, adjusting the saddle on one of the mares, humming some old tune under his breath. The familiar smell of hay, leather, and horse filled the space, grounding Joel in the moment. He clung to that.

“Tommy,” Joel called, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

Tommy glanced up, brow lifting in mild curiosity. “Mornin’, brother. No hard feelings from last night,” he said, giving the straps one last tug before stepping back. His gaze flickered to the papers in Joel’s hand. “What’s all this?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just extended them out. Tommy brushed his palms off before taking them, flipping through the pages absentmindedly—until he wasn’t. His fingers slowed, putting together the pieces, his brows knitting together, his mouth parting just slightly.

"What in the... I mean—I talked to her about this,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Told her we'd be having trouble. That was last week.” He let out a low breath, rubbing at his mouth as he stared at the pages like they had just appeared out of thin air. "She really did all this?"

Joel exhaled with a slight grin, feeling like someone had just handed him a gold star. An odd feeling settled in his chest—one he didn’t quite know what to do with. It wasn’t his place to feel this way, no right to. But still, pride curled warm and solid in his ribs.

“She stayed up workin’ on ‘em,” Joel muttered, not quite looking at him.

Tommy let out a short whistle, shaking his head. “Christ. This little genius just saved our asses out of the red.” He waved the papers at him. “Takin' this straight to Maria.”

Joel rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat. “Not just yet. There's a page is missing.”

Tommy paused and frowned, flipping through again. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

Joel crossed his arms, tilting his head. “I’ll give it to you if you let me fix that nursery instead of that goddamn kid.”

Tommy looked up at that, blinking. Then, realization dawned, slow and amused. His mouth curved into a smirk.

“For real, Joel?”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “Can’t even fix shelves right.”

Tommy cocked a brow. “He's just doing his job.”

“Little shit damn near had it fallin’ apart the last time I was there,” he argued. “Look, do you want the page or not? I'll just feed it to the horse.”

Tommy let out a sharp laugh, tipping his head back slightly. “You really got a bone to pick with this poor guy, huh?”

Joel’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer. Just kept his arms crossed, eyes unwavering. He wasn't backing down just yet.

Tommy shook his head, flipping the last page with a chuckle. “Fine, fine. You can fix whatever you want.” Then, without missing a beat, he held out his hand. “Now gimme the damn page.”

Joel handed it over without another word. But the way Tommy was still looking at him—grinning like he had something to say but was letting Joel walk away with his dignity intact—had him turning on his heel before his brother could get the last word in.

[ wow you read this far! now, if you're still reading, I'd just like to know - what song crept into your mind, about Joel or Leela, as you read this chapter? For Joel, definitely: Pain and Misery by The Teskey Brothers and as for Leela, ooooh: Wasteland by Royal & the Serpent! what about you? ]

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thehighladywrites · 1 day ago

Text

— “Bless me.”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd azriel x bimbo reader

☀︎ — summary: this is a little flashforward of what life looks like for you and azriel at different milestones!

☀︎ — warnings: sexual themes, fluff, pregnancy, smut

☀︎ — amara’s note: guys this is it💔 it’s been so fucking fun snd i’ve loved writing for them!!

series masterlist

The proposal

After four grueling years of college, you were about to walk the stage, hand in hand with Azriel. Both of you were dressed in matching black gowns and caps. You’d begged for a pink gown, but had to settle for pink heels, nails, and gorgeous Alaïa dress.

Azriel looked sinful in the suit you picked out while you were out shopping together. It was honestly dangerous to shop for him, that changing room was practically begging you to drag Azriel in it.

He also thought about ditching his glasses and that made you kinda sad because you loved seeing him in his glasses, he was so painfully cute in them.

“Not the glasses, baby. Please—you gotta leave ‘em on.” Honestly, you would beg if you had to. But Azriel didn’t let you beg he just nodded and kept them on.

He didn’t have time to think too much of it.

Because he was busy sweating bullets, not just from the ceremony’s heat but because of the diamond ring hidden in his pocket. The ring he had been saving 2 years for. It was for sure the most expensive thing he had ever purchased but the exclusive internship had paid well and you were going to get a good fucking ring.

As you waited to walk across the stage, Professor Lawder, looking fabulous in her academically decorated scholar gown, approached you and Azriel with a warm smile. “So, what are your plans after college?”

Azriel shyly smiled before letting her know what he’d been up to. “I’ve been offered a position at a company, Professor.”

Professor Lawder’s eyes widened with admiration. “That’s fantastic, Azriel! I always knew you’d achieve great things.”

You’re heart was overflowing with pride and joy for him as you chimed in with your signature bubbly enthusiasm, “He’s being super modest! He’s going to Synergy Tech! Dunno what they do there, but Azriel loves it there and they’re lucky to have him.”

Professor Lawder’s jaw dropped in amazement, clearly impressed. Synergy Tech was one of the worlds most leading companies in technological innovation and getting offered a job was no easy task. Azriel’s cheeks flushed a cute shade of red as he shifted nervously, his hand discreetly brushing against the hidden ring box. You gave him a reassuring squeeze, your happiness bubbling over.

“That’s very, very impressive and I wish you nothing but luck! And what about you, Ms. L/N?” Professor Lawder asked with a gentle smile.

You shrugged and gave a dazzling, slightly clueless grin. “Oh, um, well, I haven’t really thought that far ahead. College was, like, super tough, and I’m just ready to, you know, have fun and see what happens! Maybe travel with my man a bit, find some cute hobby or, like, just live in the moment. Who knows?”

Professor Lawder’s smile grew more amused and approving. “Well, it sounds like you’re ready to enjoy whatever comes your way.” Professer Lawder hugged you both before wishing you good luck one last time before you walked the stage. It was a wonderful feeling and you were so glad it was finally over. You cheered loud as fuck when Azriel was awarded with several honors diplomas and got a medal for his stellar grades.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come with me for a moment?” Azriel asked after taking pictures with your friends and family.

“Okay! Where are we going, baby?” asked with a bright smile, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you held your diploma in one hand.

Azriel’s smile grew more tender as he led you away from the crowd and into the quiet math building, the very first place you two met. The empty hallway seemed much smaller and more insignificant than it used to be.

He gently took your hand in his, guiding you to the old seats where you first bonded. As you both settled into the familiar space, Azriel took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

Okay, this was it. He was totally going to do it.

Azriel looked at you with an intense, tender gaze. “I’m insanely in love with you,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion.

You put a hand on his chest, your sparkly eyes lighting up with joy. “Awww, I love you too,” you smiled, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Azriel took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes twinkling with a mix of nerves and adoration.

“You’ve completely changed my life,” he began, his voice wavering with emotion. “From the moment we met, I knew you were someone extraordinary. You’ve brought so much joy, love and laughter into my world, more than I ever thought possible for someone like me.”

He smiled at you, his cheeks flushed with a mix of boyish excitement and nervousness. “I want to make you as happy, forever. You deserve every bit of happiness, love and devotion in the world, and I want to be the one to give it to you.”

Azriel took a deep breath, his eyes full of tender love as he knelt down on one knee as best as he could while being stuck in the back of the classroom. With a trembling hand, he opened a black velvet box to reveal a stunning ring that sparkled with every color of his affection for you.

“Please, bless me by becoming my wife,” he asked softly, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and making you as happy as you’ve made me. I want to be your husband and the father of our kids, your rock, your trusted. Please, allow me be yours. Marry me, my love.”

You gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as your eyes filled with tears. In no time you started sobbing. You didn’t glance at the ring, just Azriel’s eyes that were so filled with love.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes! I’ll marry you!” you squealed, your voice high-pitched with excitement. Tears streamed down your face as you flung yourself into Azriel’s arms, knocking him back. He held firm, never letting you go.

You buried your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “Az,” you hiccupped between breaths, “I love you so much. Like, I can’t even—oh my god!”

Azriel’s chest vibrated with a quiet laugh, his dimples deepening as he pressed his cheek against your hair. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotion tightening his throat. “I love you too.”

You sniffled, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your mascara smudged and your eyes sparkling. “We’re gonna be, like, the cutest married couple. We’ll have an amazing life and there’s so much we’ll do! We’re so perfect and hot and we can literally do whatever because we’re married.”

His lips curved into that rare, quiet smile reserved only for you. “Whatever you want,” he assured softly, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m all in.”

You beamed through your tears, your voice bright despite the emotion clinging to it. “Duh, you kinda have to be now. I’m gonna be your wife. And I’m just gonna let you know now—I’m very high maintenance.”

Azriel’s heart flipped at the way you so confidently called yourself his wife already, and then he laughed, low and warm, because of course you were high maintenance. “So, no big changes there, huh?”

“Nope!” you said proudly, popping the p. “But I know you’ll take such good care of me and it means the world to me.” Your hand lifted, thumb gently brushing across his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “God, Azzie, I couldn’t love someone more than I love you,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. ”You’re totally the love of my life.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as he gently took your hand. Slowly, he lifted the stunning light pink diamond ring from its velvet box and, with steady hands, slid it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, sparkling as though it had been made just for you.

You leaned in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, your eyes drifted down to the ring resting perfectly on your finger. It sparkled brilliantly—a huge pink diamond that practically glowed in the light. Your eyes widened in awe, lips parting in delight.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, voice trembling with excitement. “It’s so perfect. I’m gonna cry, Azzie.” You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Are ya sure you want me as your wife? Like, forever?” you added softly, the last part coming out almost shy.

Azriel’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. The mere thought of not wanting you made his chest ache. He would’ve married you right after your first tutoring session if you’d let him.

“Of course I do. Do you have any doubts, my love?” the thought made his stomach hurt. “Do you not want to do it?”

You shook your head vehemently. “No! I mean, yes, I wanna do it. But—what if you get bored of me?” You bit your lip nervously. “I mean, I can’t exactly have intellectual conversations with you or whatever. Ya know I’m not that smart, right?”

Azriel’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. This was all coming from the girl who had trouble pronouncing colonel.

“You’re very smart, first of all. And I’m not marrying you for debates, sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m marrying you because you’re my love and I don’t need anything else. Just you.”

Your heart melted as you softly kisses your future husband. “Okay, then. I wanna be your wife.”

————————————————————————

The wedding

Did anyone think your wedding would be small? Absolutely not. You hadn’t shut up about wanting a huge, fat Plaza wedding where everyone you knew would be invited, and you’d party all night with your insanely handsome husband while wearing a stunning Ellie Saab gown and sky-high Jimmy Choos. It had been your dream since you were a little girl.

You had all these plans, all these meticulously crafted visions for your perfect day, the flowers, the venue, the glitz, and glam but nothing, nothing, could have ever compared to the reality.

Nothing could have compared to Azriel.

Not the faceless groom who had always existed in your girlish dreams. Not the exclusivity of the prestigious venue or the shimmering of the evening.

Because it was him.

His steady hand holding yours as if he never intended to let go. The way his eyes never left you, not when you walked down the aisle, not when you exchanged vows, and certainly not as you danced in his arms under the soft glow of chandeliers.

Azriel made your dream wedding look trivial in comparison. He was the only part of the fantasy you’d never dared to dream up, and yet, he was better than anything you could’ve imagined.

At one point, you had actually wanted to elope. You literally couldn’t wait to marry him, pestering and prodding him every chance you got.

“Ya sure we shouldn’t just run away and get married? Wouldn’t it be sooo much fun, Azzie?” you’d asked, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

And yeah, Azriel totally wanted to marry you as soon as possible. The idea of waking up next to you as his wife was all he ever wanted. But he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about the wedding, how you dreamed of wearing a baby pink dress that wouldn’t be done justice in a courthouse was the only thing stopping him from saying yes.

“I would love to, sweetheart,” he had said, brushing his thumb gently over your knuckles. “But I know you want a beautiful wedding, and that’s exactly what we’ll have.”

And he’d made good on that promise. Because here you were, twirling on the dance floor in a stunning soft pink Ellie Saab gown that shimmered under the chandeliers, the air filled with laughter and love, all while Azriel’s gaze never left you, utterly captivated by the woman he was lucky enough to call his wife.

It was a small wedding, just your closest friends and family gathered intimately but it was still at the Plaza, still the fairytale wedding you had always dreamed of.

You beamed up at him, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can you believe we’re actually married? Like, you’re my husband. I can call you my husband now. That’s so hot, like, ‘Oh yeah, let me get my husband,’ or ‘My husband knows what to do.’”

Azriel’s lips quirked into that quiet smile reserved just for you. “I think you’ve said ‘husband’ more times in the past minute than most people do in a week.”

“And it’s only the beginning,” you giggled, leaning closer. “I’m never getting over this, husband.”

His hand found the small of your back, grounding you in that gentle, steady way only he could. “Good. Because neither am I, wife.”

Then he gave you the softest, most loving kiss ever. It was a kiss filled with the promise of your future, the one you’d spend together.

—

Sand. Palms. Warm weathers and the ocean.

You had been surrounded by your favorite things with your favorite person. It had been a few days since your wedding and you were now on your honeymoon.

The private island your father had gifted you as a married couple was absolutely perfect. It was completely magical and completely hidden away.

A single sprawling villa stood at the heart of it, with panoramic views of the turquoise ocean. Vibrant flowers bloomed in every imaginable color, their fragrance mingling with the salty breeze. Fruit trees, heavy with sweet, ripe fruit, dotted the landscape. And you were sharing it all with your husband.

That’s right, Azriel was officially your husband now, and you were his freaking wife. Sometimes it didn’t feel real, and other times it felt very real.

Like those times when Azriel made you ride him, begging you to call him nothing but husband. And he called you nothing but wife. His sweet wife, his beautiful wife, his sexy wife.

Azriel was unbelievably romantic, spoiling you left and right with thoughtful little gifts. Yesterday it was a jaw-dropping pair of diamond earrings; the day before that, a golden anklet etched with your initials intertwined. Every step you took made that anklet jingle softly, a reminder of how deeply he loved you.

It was also a cute reminder when he folded you in half, ankles in the air as the jewelry jingled. You had fucked just about everywhere. Outside, inside, on tables, in the hammock, on the beach chairs, and even right on the beach itself. That was the privilege of being utterly alone. You could do whatever the hell you wanted, scream and moan as loud as you pleased, without a single soul hearing or seeing Azriel slut you out.

That’s why you’d packed the sluttiest outfits imaginable — stringy bikinis, barely-there skirts, and see-through dresses. All scraps of fabric that Azriel would be tearing off anyway.

Your favorite ensemble was the white silk nightgown from Agent Provocateur that you’d worn on the first night. It was bridal, beautiful, and the match that lit this trip. The second Azriel saw it, he’d lost control and sanity. You’d ended up in so many positions that you couldn't walk without help the next day. He’d truly worn you out.

You still remembered the way his eyes had darkened when you stepped out of the bathroom and spun for him, showing off that sinful gown.

That was probably why you were now slipping into a baby pink lace bra and panties set — delicate and stunning. You tied it all together with a silk robe that wasn’t hiding anything, only highlighting everything. An open invitation, really.

“How’s dinner going, husband?” you asked, your freshly manicured hand grazing down his shirtless back.

“It’s coming along nicely, actually. Are you hungry, sweetheart?” he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose and scrunching it adorably as he stirred the sauce.

You smiled at the little quirk you loved so much. His glasses made your heart race every time. “Uh-huh, sure. I’m hungry. Actually, I’m reeeeally hungry.”

“Yeah? It’ll be done soon, and—”

His words faltered when he glanced down at you.

There was so much love and lust swirling in your gaze, your pupils dilated and locked on him. His throat went dry, forcing him to swallow once—then again.

“Everything okay, husband?” you asked innocently, voice soft and sweet, knowing damn well you were driving him crazy. There was nothing innocent or sweet about the way your hand dragged down his chest, all the way to his built abs and v-like that disappeared down his pants.

Azriel’s voice came out rough. “Oh, you’re not being fair, sweetheart.”

A slow, playful smile curled your lips. “Azzie, c’mon let’s fuck. Right here, right now.” you grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the kitchen island. There you looked up at him with those doe eyes, all innocent and sweet before you carefully let your robe drop.

“So, you gonna make me beg? i’ll totally do it,” you suggest with a little smile.

“Alright then, beg.”

—

“Wait—don’t hide your pretty face from me—fuck,” azriel reaches over and grabs both your hands in one of his.

God, you were being slutted out, whimpering mindlessly as you bounced in his lap. his ridiculously big dick was fittin’ just right, so snugly deep in your cunt.

“I want to see my wife’s face, so fucking pretty, might just cum from looking at it,” azriel was also a mumbling mess, groans and noises of pleasure escaping him whenever you lifted yourself and sat back down, your cunt sucking him in greedily.

The house was filled with so sinful noises, the noises were just sloppy, nasty, each ‘plop!’ and ‘pap!’ that echoed from both bodies was sending a wave of chills down azriel’s spine. The loud sounds echoing through the room only spurred him on more, making him fuck you harder, deeper, wanting to hear you cry louder.

“mm- az, there baby. righttttt there, fuck me good,” you’d weep out in a sweet whimper. he was in so fucking deep. A ring of cum had started to form around the base of his dick and dripped down his balls from how wet you were. you felt every delicious stroke, felt the way his tip kissed your cervix. fuck- you rolled your hips in circles, making his already fuzzy brain go more empty.

the combo of your sinful hips and the way your wet cunt was vacuuming each and every inch was just pushing him closer to the edge, turning him into a fucking mess. “o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum. keep ridin’ me, ride me good—shit, I-I think i’m gonna cum.” Azriel’s brows furrow in pleasure as he pushes the hair that fallen over his eyes back.

“ ‘s okay, azzie. you can c- cum inside,” you whisper breathlessly against the crook of his neck. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as your hips rut into him quicker.

“god- ‘m cummin’ fuck- ‘m cumming,” he moans, and his entire body erupts. his hand snakes down between your perspiring bodies just as he rubs tight circles on your clit, the small move pushing you over the edge as your walls spasm around his leaking tip, still spurting out rope after rope as your fell against his chest.

Your eyes are glossed over in pleasure and you felt like bawling your eyes out. There was nothing more beautiful than post sex with Azriel. It was all so emotional and sweet and you didn’t miss the way he held you closer.

Your pulled away from him, just enough to see his face. Azriel was already staring at you with no less lust or love than before. You pouted a bit before kissing his swollen lips. He’s so pretty, god.

Azriel’s inside were swirling around and it didn’t help that you were looking up at him, freshly fucked with so much love and submission in your eyes. It was like your eyes were saying the words you couldn’t. Azriel’s hand carefully stroked your bottom lip from your between your teeth.

“These eyes, man. You keep looking at me like that and I might get you pregnant, sweetheart.”

Azriel as a dad? A DILF? Fuck yeah.

“Do it then, knock me up, Azzie.”

————————————————————————

The pregnancy

You stood in front of the mirror, frowning as you tried to zip up your cute, frilly mini skirt. It wasn’t fitting quite like it used to. “Hm, there must be something wrong with this skirt. It’s not fitting me anymore,” you muttered, tugging at it a little. You huffed in frustration but quickly brightened. “Oh well, I guess that means it’s time to go shopping!”

You slipped on your favorite pair of black Manolos, but as you tried to squeeze your feet into them, they didn’t quite cooperate. You wiggled your toes and huffed again, forcing them in. “No way are my Manolos not fitting. They have to. These are my favorite!” you said, your voice tinged with frustration as you took a few shaky steps, struggling to balance.

Azriel walked in, his brow furrowing in concern when he saw you wobbling. “Everything okay, love?” His gaze drifted down to your feet, then to your stomach. He couldn’t help but notice how your clothes didn’t seem to fit as they usually did.

You stumbled a little, catching yourself on the vanity. “I don’t get it, Azzie. This skirt and my shoes… why aren’t they fitting? I haven’t changed that much have I ?!” Your confusion was evident as you looked at him, a little panicked.

Honestly, it had been three years since you graduated college and two since getting married. Did you just put on some weight?

You turned your head to Azriel, hands clamped infront of you in all seriousness. God you were totally gonna die if he said yes. “Azzie, am i getting fat?”

“No, no, sweetheart,” Azriel said quickly, his hands gently brushing over your arms, his touch soothing as if to reassure you that everything was okay. “You look healthy. I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “But… Azzie,” you gestured at your shoes, “these are my Manolos, they should always fit!”

Azriel chuckled softly, his smile warm and affectionate. “Do you want to get new ones?” he asked, his voice light as he gently helped you out of your clothes, clearly more focused on making you comfortable than anything else.

You let out a sigh, the panic easing just a bit. “That sounds nice, Azzie. Thanks,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude, feeling the love in every small thing he did for you.

Not just the small things—but the big things too. Azriel’s job was stupidly well-paying, and he was loaded. It was a reward for all his hard work in school, and it made you so proud. He was the main provider and never expected a penny from you, spoiling you rotten and taking the promise of taking care of you very seriously.

He knew you’d lived a life of glamour and glitz, and lord knows he wasn’t about to mess that up. Azriel had even told your father that he’d step up and take care of you the second he landed his job as a very important something at a tech company…thingy. You never really knew what he did, but he was so hardworking and cool that it didn’t really matter.

—

Azriel noticed the changes in you immediately. You were moodier than usual, avoiding your favorite foods—especially your beloved strawberry sweets—and, to top it all off, you’d missed your period. He knew your cycle well and tracked it enough to know that a missed period was a rare occurrence. And you? Avoiding your favorite sour strawberry candy? That was unheard of.

Azriel couldn’t help but also notice how extra clingy you’d become, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. He loved you dearly, after all. You wrestled normally very clingy but not like this. For the past two weeks, you had been practically glued to his side.

You napped on top of him like you couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second. You wrapped yourself around him as if you were a koala bear, holding on tight while he read or worked. And when he left the house—even for just a few minutes, you’d become teary-eyed, giving him a sad pout as if he were leaving for an eternity.

It was both endearing and a bit concerning for him. Azriel couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but the sudden shift in your behavior made him wonder. Was something off? Was this just a phase? Or, as he suspected, was it something more?

Either way, he couldn’t deny that he secretly loved the extra closeness. He’d never seen you so needy, and God you were needy at times, but it made him feel needed in a way that was deeply comforting. He would brush your hair from your face and kiss your forehead, trying his best to reassure you when you would cry about the most random things—like when he’d gone to grab groceries for ten minutes, or when he had to step out to take a call.

“You okay, love?” he asked softly, brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as you curled up next to him once again.

“I just missed you, Azzie,” you replied, your voice small but full of affection as you nuzzled into his side before you sobbed again.

Azriel chuckled lightly, his fingers tracing comforting patterns on your back. “I’m right here, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

It was a little intense, but it also made his heart swell to know just how much you needed him.

He had a strong hunch that you might be pregnant, but he couldn’t say for sure yet. So, being the overprepared and cautious person he was, he did what any sane person would do: he bought eight different pregnancy tests.

“Juuuust to be sure,” he muttered to himself as he set the tests down on the bathroom counter, glancing over at you. You were sitting on the bed, still unaware of his little purchase.

He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he was seeing the changes in you. And it really didn’t help that you were fucking like bunnies everywhere, everyday for so long without any protection.

Azriel cleared his throat, looking far too calm for someone who had just bought eight pregnancy tests. “So, sweetheart, I think I know what’s going on with you. You might be pregnant. And I’ve bought you the market’s top-rated tests.” He said it with a certain air of professionalism, like he was pitching an idea, and it left you utterly confused.

You stared at him, blinking. “Huh? Eight tests? Ain’t that kind of… a bit much?”

Azriel, however, was completely unfazed. “You see, my love, you can never be too careful. And I also suggest we visit a doctor’s office.” He handed you a massive glass of water, like it was a peace offering. “Just to help smooth things over,” he added, his eyes darting away, a faint blush creeping across his face when you arched an eyebrow at the absurdly large glass of water.

You stared at the massive glass of water, then back at Azriel. “Azzie, this is, like, a lotta water. You trying to drown me or something?” you giggled, swirling the glass dramatically before gulping it down with determination.

Azriel’s lips twitched into a smile, but he stayed close, clearly taking this whole situation very seriously. His gentle instincts wouldn’t allow for anything less.

With all eight pregnancy tests clutched in your hands, you made your way to the bathroom. “You’re staying right outside, right?” you asked, pointing a manicured finger at him. “I need you with me, Azzie baby.”

Azriel nodded, leaning against the wall like the dutiful husband he was. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be just outside.”

After a few tense minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom, wide-eyed, holding up the tests like some dramatic reveal on a reality show.

Each one displayed a positive result—two lines, a digital readout, even one that estimated how far along you were in weeks. No doubt about it. You were pregnant.

You blinked down at the assortment of tests, then back at Azriel, your voice trembling. “Azzie,” you whispered, tears welling up. “We’re having a baby.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, wonder filling his expression as he stepped closer, gently cupping your face. “My love,” he said, voice low and filled with awe. “We’re having a baby.”

You sniffled, overwhelmed, then suddenly let out a laugh through your tears. “Oh my god, I’m actually going to freak out! I already love her so much—I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Azriel’s lips curved into a soft laugh, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “Her? You think it’s a girl?”

You nodded lovingly. “Totally. I just know it, Azzie. You’re so a girl dad. And she’s gonna be adorable and for sure super smart, just like you.”

Azriel’s laugh deepened, warm and genuine. “Then she’ll be perfect, just like her mom,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

—

Pregnancy was unique, and Azriel found it endlessly charming. The way you waddled around in your third trimester never failed to make his heart swell. You didn’t think it was cute, but to Azriel, it was nothing short of endearing. And he made sure to let you know it every chance he got.

It hadn’t started out easy, though. Morning sickness had you in its grasp for weeks, and you couldn’t help but blame Azriel for it every time it hit. One day, after a particularly rough attempt at cooking chicken, you were hunched over the toilet, and when Azriel walked by, you just couldn’t help yourself.

“You did this to me!” you yelled, your voice a mix of frustration and nausea. “I’m sick, and it’s all your fault, Azriel. God, I can’t even eat chicken anymore and—”

But your rant was cut short when the reminder of the chicken hit you again, and you immediately had to empty your guts once more.

Azriel stood there, helpless but always ready to support you. He nodded in agreement, his face a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “It’s all my fault,” he agreed quickly, his voice full of mock guilt. “I’m so sorry for getting you pregnant. How irresponsable of me.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, it’s totally your fault,” you said dramatically, sinking down onto the cool bathroom floor and leaning your head on his shoulder as he crouched next to you.

Azriel didn’t mind; he just wrapped an arm around you, offering comfort. Even as you faced the discomforts of pregnancy, you refused to wear anything you didn’t like. You weren’t about to settle for ugly maternity clothes, not when you could still squeeze into your regular outfits. And so what if your t-shirt was riding up your stomach? it was still cute and you’d wear just that. It was just you plus a bump.

Even with you sick and throwing up left and right, Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen you so beautiful. You were glowing and had this ethereal beauty surrounding you at all times. It made no sense at times that someone as beautiful as you existed.

—

In these final weeks, the fear of giving birth and the reality of taking care of the baby were your biggest worries. Azriel, always attentive, made sure to check on you daily, asking if you had any pain, discomfort, or thoughts you needed to share.

You sighed deeply, looking over at him. “Well, I’m kinda scared, baby.”

Azriel scooted closer, rubbing your feet, and the second his hands made contact, it felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders. His touch was like magic, calming your racing thoughts.

“Yeah? Wanna talk about it?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “I’m scared of giving birth, ya know? I watched some videos, and honestly, I’d rather not do it at all. Like, babies should be born painlessly, right? I know it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, and I’m just… terrified.”

Azriel leaned in, his hand still caressing your foot gently. “I won’t lie to you, honey, it’s gonna be scary,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “But listen to me: you’re not going to be alone. I’m going to be right there with you, every step of the way. I’ll hold your hand, I’ll be the one to remind you how strong you are. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back into him, feeling his warmth and the sincerity of his words. The fear didn’t disappear entirely, but with him beside you, it seemed just a little more manageable. “I jus’ don’t wanna mess it up. I want to be a good mom, ya know?”

“You’ll be an amazing mom. The best,” Azriel said without hesitation, his voice full of certainty. “You’ve already proven that. And we’ll be doing this together, so you’ll never be alone.”

You smiled, feeling a little braver. “Thanks, Azzie. I really needed to hear that.”

“Always, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand still holding yours with a tenderness that made you feel like you could take on anything. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “So, does this officially make you a dilf?”

Azriel chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, and just like that, you’re a milf,” he teased, his smile growing as he gave your belly a gentle rub.

You liked the sound of that, you and Azriel officially being hot parents.

—

“Okay, I need this baby to get the fuck out.”

Yes, that’s right. You were still very pregnant, and it was starting to drive you mad. Hot one second, cold the next, hungry then nauseous. Everything felt off, and you were so uncomfortable. You were too damn pregnant.

“Oh my god, just get out, get out, get outtttt!”

Azriel stood next to you, trying to be supportive as usual. He was breathing way too loud, and standing just a little too close. “Seriously, breathe louder, Az. That’s just great,” you snapped, throwing your hands up in frustration. Your pink diamond ring caught the light, and your eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Sorry, I’ll just stop,” he said casually, clearly not bothered by your outburst.

Great. Now you felt fucking awful. He wasn’t the one who’d been throwing up for the past few months but he’d been the one holding your hair back, rubbing your feet, and making sure you were comfortable 24/7. You definitely didn’t want to stop breathing because that would cause him to die and you just couldn’t have that.

“‘m sorry,” you said, your voice shaky as you reached for him, burying your face in his shoulder. “Didn’t mean to snap. I don’t want you to stop breathing. You’re not annoying, I’m just—” you sniffled, feeling like a mess. “I love you so much, but gods, I’m so over being pregnant. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Please don’t hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as you broke down into his shoulder, his hand instinctively moving to soothe you. He wrapped you in his arms, pulling you closer as he gently rubbed your back, his presence steady and grounding.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “I know you’re done. You’ve been so strong this whole time, and I’m proud of you. But we’re almost there. Just a little longer.”

You sniffled, your face buried in his shirt, feeling the warmth of his embrace despite the chaos swirling in your mind. “I just feel like I’m going to lose it. I’m too hot, then cold. I can’t eat without feeling sick, and everything aches. I just want her here already. I love her so much, but I can’t do this anymore.”

Azriel chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment as he whispered, “How about we get her out by going for a walk and eating something spicy? Heard that works wonders. And if that doesn’t, uh… I heard sex helps.”

The blush creeping up his neck was unmistakable, and your heart squeezed at how he still managed to get shy around you.

You grinned through your tears. “How about we skip all that and head straight to the part where you fuck me real good?”

Azriel’s lips curved into a slow smile, though his face was still red. “Y-Yeah—hell yeah. Let’s do that.”

And he did. One very good fuck fest and 7 hours of labor brought your beautiful baby girl into the world. She was perfect—so tiny, so sweet, and when she opened her eyes, they were unmistakably Azriel’s.

“You did it, sweetheart,” Azriel whispered as he held her close, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s here. Our babygirl is finally here. Thank you, my love. For blessing us. For your hard work. I’m so proud of you.”

Azriel kissed you deeply and as you looked at your baby girl and the love of your life, you knew every ache and tear had been worth it.

—————————————————————————

Life

You kissed the top of her head, her soft black hair looking just like her father’s. You sat on the couch with your 6-month-old baby girl nestled in your arms. When she was born, she looked just like you, but as she grew older, her sneaky little features started looking more and more like Azriel’s.

You loved her so freaking much, and sometimes you’d just start crying out of nowhere. She was a tiny part of you, someone you made with love. It was honestly wild.

“Oh, my sweetest baby angel. You’re all mine, and I love you sooo much, yes I do! Yes I do!” you cooed, nuzzling your nose against her tiny button one, making her giggle wildly. She was seriously a masterpiece. Like, such a cutie.

After feeding and rocking her, her soft snores filled the room, and you found yourself counting each adorable little breath. Pregnancy had been… a lot. You weren’t exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, and sometimes you worried about whether you’d be a good mom. But Azzie had always been there.

Carefully, you stood up and tiptoed to her bedroom, which was right next to yours and Azriel’s so you could get to her super quickly if she fussed. You gently laid her down and pulled out all the baby monitors you had stocked up on. No way were you taking chances with your baby girl.

And sure, maybe three monitors and an Owlet sock was a tiny bit much, but whatever. And Azriel totally agreed.

You found him standing next to the door, still clad in his handsome dress shirt and slacks. Your walked over to him as you slumped your body against his, melting against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Every day I thank the gods we didn't end up with a fussy baby. she goes to sleep so easy." he smiled, placing his chin on the top of your head.

Here’s a cleaned-up and polished version while keeping her adorable, slightly flustered tone intact:

“Right? She’s totally in sync with me, and I’m so happy she’s so calm.”

“I really missed you today. A lot.”

Your heart started beating faster. Azriel was so casual about stuff like that, and it made you blush every time. He used to be shy and reserved about sharing his feelings, but now he’d just say it right to your face without hesitation.

And, of course, it turned you into a blushing mess over a few simple words.

“Y-you did? I missed you too.”

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. His voice dropped to that low, heart-melting tone he knew drove you wild.

“I missed you very much. Very, very much. And I’m going to show you exactly how much.” You giggle and blush like crazy when be grabs your waist and carefully chucks you over his shoulder, giving your ass a loud smack.

God, you love your life.

🏷️:

291 notes · View notes

drewsephrry · 9 hours ago

Text

Love Island: Episode 2

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 4.9k

warnings: cuss words

The fun and relaxed vibe the islanders had been building quickly shifts when the new arrival walks in.

“Woah! A girl!” Topper calls out from the kitchen, prompting a giggle from the newcomer as she approaches and greets him with a hug. Y/N, Sarah and Maddy exchange glances while Rafe, JJ and John B get off the daybed to meet the new girl. Rafe turns back to the girls with a teasing grin.

“Not coming?” He jokes, prompting them to get up. Y/N adjusts her dress, taking Maddy’s hand as they join the group.

“Why do I feel like she’s going to stir up some drama?” Y/N whispers, earning a snicker from Maddy.

“You’re probably right. My intuition’s saying the same thing.” Maddy replies as they follow the others. The islanders greet her warmly, introducing themselves with hugs.

“I’m Alyssa!” She announces with a bright smile. “Shall we head to the firepit? I’d love to get to know all of you!” She leads the way enthusiastically, the boys trailing after her while the girls hesitate before following.

As they all settle in, the boys begin asking Alyssa questions. It isn’t long before she glances around the group.

“Okay, so who’s coupled up with who?” She asks. Topper quickly wraps an arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

“I’m with Sarah.” He declares, as if staking his claim. Alyssa nods, her gaze shifting to Rafe, who is sitting beside Y/N.

“What about you? Rafe, right?” She asks. Rafe blinks, caught off guard.

“Uh, yeah. I’m, uh…I’m coupled up with Y/N,” He stammers making Y/N’s brows furrow slightly as Alyssa smirks.

“And how are things going between you two?” Alyssa presses, leaning forward slightly. Rafe glances at Y/N, seemingly searching for the right words.

“It’s still early days, but things are good.” Y/N answers when his silence lingers. The rest of the couples share their pairings as Alyssa nods thoughtfully. Later, the boys excuse themselves to let the girls chat with Alyssa.

“What’s your type?” Cleo asks curiously, making Alyssa pretend to think.

“Hmm…someone fit, with light eyes, that always gets me. Someone who’s fun but can have deep conversations too.” She pauses. “Rafe seems like that kind of guy.” She adds, causing the girls to exchange pointed looks. “Honestly, Rafe and Y/N seem like the it-couple here. They’re so close already and it’s only day two.” Maddy speaks up, making Y/N roll her eyes jokingly. Alyssa shruggs, undeterred.

“Well, like you said, it’s early days. His head could still turn.” She reveals, making the girls widen their eyes as they look at Y/N who turns to Maddie.

“Told you. Drama starter.” Y/N mutters to Maddy, who giggles, before turning back into conversation.

“Look, I’m not here to make seasonal girlfriends. I’m here to find love. If that means stepping on toes, so be it. You can’t expect to stay coupled up with the same person for weeks on end.” Alyssa leans back, addressing the group.

The girls exchange tense glances as Alyssa stands up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to chat with the boys. See you around.” She walks away, her hips swaying exaggeratedly as she approaches the guys in the kitchen.

“Oh my god.” Sarah mutters.

“I was this close to punching her.” Kiara says through gritted teeth.

“She’s got some nerve.” Cleo adds. They all turn to Y/N, expecting a reaction.

“Aren’t you going to say something? She basically said she’s coming for Rafe.” Kiara presses, but Y/N only shrugs.

“Guys, it's still the second day. I…yeah, I have fun with Rafe already and there’s definitely something building there, but if his head is gonna turn, I can't help it.” She says, her voice casual, though there’s an underlying tension in her words.

“He’s not going to go for her.” Maddy says confidently and the others nod in agreement.

“Early days, Mads.” She tries to remind Maddy, but mostly says it as a reminder to herself.

The rest of the evening unfolds with Alyssa effortlessly mingling with the guys, laughing and chatting as she tries to make connections. When it’s finally time to wind down, the girls retreat to the makeup room, giggling and talking as they remove their makeup and change for bed. Alyssa, however, is in the bathroom, mid-skincare routine, when Rafe walks in wearing nothing but his boxers, ready to brush his teeth.

“Oh, hey.” He says casually, grabbing and wetting the bristles of his toothbrush. Alyssa smirks, letting her hair tumble free from her ponytail and running her fingers through it.

“Hey, Rafe.” She replies, her tone light and flirtatious. She leans against the counter, her gaze roaming over his defined chest and abs.

“You good? Having fun?” He asks, voice slightly muffled from toothpaste as he starts brushing his teeth.

“Yeah.” She answers, her smirk widening. “You guys are fun. Nice. And very good-looking.” Rafe chuckles, spitting into the sink before wiping his mouth with a towel. She steps closer, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“So, what is it you said you do?”

“My family owns a construction and development company.” Rafe replies, his tone polite but detached. Alyssa nods thoughtfully.

“Do you have a type?” She asks, her bluntness catching him off guard.

“Uh…not really.” He says after a pause. “I guess I like someone I can have fun with, adventures, good banter, that sort of thing.” As he speaks, his thoughts drift to Y/N. If they could go far enough to explore whatever this chemistry between them has to offer.

“Oh my god, that’s exactly what I look for too!” Alyssa exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “So…would you say I’m your type?” Rafe glances at her briefly before shrugging.

“Uh, sure.” He replies nonchalantly, his tone devoid of enthusiasm, but Alyssa smirks.

“Good to know.” She murmurs.

Just then, the bathroom door opens and Y/N steps inside. She’s wearing a pink pajama set with delicate lace trim, her tank top and shorts hugging her frame perfectly. Her wide eyes flicker between them.

“Am I interrupting?” She asks quietly, fidgeting with the ring on her finger. Rafe straightens immediately, relief washing over him at the sight of her.

“No, no, not at all.” He assures her, stepping aside so she can reach the sink. Alyssa gives Y/N a slow, appraising look before humming softly.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Nice talking to you, Rafe.” Without waiting for a response, she saunters out of the room. Y/N ties her hair back and begins washing her face. Rafe leans against the counter, watching her through the mirror.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice softer now and she nods, glancing at him with a small smile. Rafe’s chest tightens at her smile. He waits patiently as she finishes rinsing her face and grabs her toothbrush.

“What do you think of Alyssa?” She asks suddenly, catching him off guard. Rafe’s brows shoot up.

“Uh…she’s…okay?” He says hesitantly and Y/N raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

“She’s pretty.” He admits, shifting uncomfortably. “But there’s something missing. I just…I don’t think I could ever be attracted to her. Not in the same way as…” He trails off, his gaze locking with hers through the mirror. He closes his eyes, scratching the back of his neck, before finishing his sentence. “…you.”

Y/N’s eyes widen as she nearly chokes on her toothpaste. She turns away, coughing violently. Rafe immediately steps forward, gently rubbing her back.

“You okay? Want me to grab you some water?” He asks, concerned but she shakes her head, still coughing.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just…swallowed wrong.” She manages, her cheeks flushing as she spits into the sink. Rafe chuckles, leaning against the counter again as she wipes her mouth. His eyes drift over her, taking in her loose ponytail and her now-glowing, makeup-free face.

“What’s that?” He asks when she grabs a small jar from the counter.

“My moisturizer.” She explains, with a hoarse voice. “Do you want some?” Rafe nods, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Only if you do it.” He murmurs making Y/N laugh softly as she gestures for him to lean down. He crouches slightly, closing his eyes as her fingers gently glide over his face. Her touch is featherlight and Rafe exhales a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“That feels…really good.” He whispers. Y/N smiles, carefully working the cream into his skin.

“It’ll feel sticky at first, but it’s great for hydration. With all the sun we’re exposed to, it helps a lot.” She explains. When she finishes, Rafe glances in the mirror, noting the glow on his face.

“Looks good.” He says, turning back to her. His eyes linger as she adjusts her tank top strap and his jaw tightens at the sight of her effortless beauty.

“Ready to head downstairs?” He asks, clearing his throat and Y/N nods, leading the way to the bedroom. They settle into their respective sides of the bed, adjusting the covers. Y/N shifts slightly, her leg brushing against his and Rafe’s breath hitches.

As the rest of the islanders head to bed and the lights dim, Rafe props himself on one elbow, watching Y/N as she faces him. He brushes a strand of hair away from her face.

“You don’t have to worry about her, you know.” He whispers, making Y/N hum softly in question, her eyes meeting his.

“Alyssa.” He clarifies. “I like what we have and I want to see where it goes. However long or short that is.” His fingers twist a strand of her hair as he speaks, his voice barely audible. Y/N smiles, her arm draping over his torso in response. Rafe mirrors her smile, pulling her closer. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, the warmth of her body lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

The next day moves at a slower pace compared to the earlier ones. The girls lounge by the pool, gossiping about the boys as they work out and relax around the villa. Rafe and Y/N find a quiet moment together, stretched out on the couch under the terrace, getting to know each other better.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Rafe asks, his eyes closed as Y/N’s nails lightly trace along his arm, the touch comforting them both.

“Uh…I dance. I paint. And I read a lot too.” She reveals, her voice soft but genuine.

“Creative, aren’t you?” He teases, a smirk tugging at his lips, making her chuckle lightly.

“What can I say?” She teases, making him laugh along.

“What kind of dancing do you do?” His curiosity is evident and her touch doesn’t falter as she answers.

“I do some hip-hop, some contemporary too but mostly heels dancing.” She admits casually, catching him by surprise.

“Heels dancing? How does that even work?” He asks, raising a brow in disbelief.

“It’s this really sexy, technical style of dance in stilettos. It can be very challenging, but it’s so beautiful.” She explains, her face lighting up with enthusiasm as she talks about it. Rafe can’t help but admire the way she glows when she speaks about the things she loves.

“That sounds…I mean, I’ve got to see that.” He teases, grinning at her reaction.

“We’ll see about that.” She murmurs, looking away bashfully.

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He prods. “I bet you’re incredible at it. Especially that kind of dance.” Her nails pause briefly as she looks at him.

“You really think so?”

“I do.” He says earnestly. “And I’d love to see you dance. Anytime.” Her lips curl into a smile.

“Okay.” She whispers, agreeing softly.

Their quiet moment is interrupted by the sharp ping of a phone notification. Gasps ripple through the villa and Y/N sits up quickly, exchanging wide-eyed glances with Rafe as he follows her lead.

“Yeah? You’ll actually let me?” He presses, slightly surprised, but her soft laugh and nod are all the confirmation he needs. He grins, satisfied, before pulling his sunglasses back on and laying back down on the couch.

“I got a text!” Alyssa’s voice rings out, full of excitement. Y/N rises from the couch and glances toward the pool, where some of the girls chill in, Rafe instinctively placing a hand on her shoulder as he trails behind her.

“Alyssa, tonight you get to couple up with a boy of your choice, leaving a girl single and vulnerable. #maketherightchoice #steppingontoes.” Alyssa grins, reading the message aloud. Her excitement is palpable, while the rest of the girls exchange uneasy looks. The boys huddle nearby, their murmurs growing louder. Y/N glances at Rafe, the pit in her stomach tightening.

“I’m…I’m gonna go talk to the girls.” She mutters, her voice low. Rafe nods slowly.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.” He says, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting her go. His eyes follow her as she walks toward Maddy and Sarah, her bikini accentuating every curve.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” Sarah groans as Y/N sits down beside her.

“Did you see how thrilled she was to read that? She doesn’t care about any of us.” Maddy snaps, glaring toward Alyssa.

“Y/N, what’s on your mind?” Sarah asks, noticing the tension on her face.

“I…I don’t know. It’s just…I can’t control who she’s going to pick. And if it’s Rafe…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll be pretty bummed.” Maddy shakes her head firmly.

“He won’t give her a reason to pick him. He likes you, Y/N. It's obvious.” Before Y/N can respond, Alyssa’s high-pitched voice cuts through the villa.

“Rafey! Can I chat with you?”

Y/N stiffens, glancing over as Alyssa grabs Rafe’s arm. He looks confused but doesn’t protest. He turns back briefly, as if to gauge Y/N’s reaction, but she’s already averting her gaze. With a sigh, he lets Alyssa lead him to a secluded couch far from the others.

“Spoke too soon.” Y/N mutters under her breath, her fingers fidgeting with her ring as she tries to suppress the unease bubbling in her chest.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” Maddy insists. “Rafe likes you. A chat doesn’t mean anything.”

Meanwhile, Alyssa is pouring on the charm as she talks to Rafe, her fingers twirling a strand of hair.

“When was your last relationship?” She asks, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. Rafe shifts uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze.

“Over a year ago.” He says flatly.

“Was it a bad breakup?” She presses, leaning in closer and Rafe’s jaw tightens.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Relax, it’s just a question.” Alyssa replies with a low chuckle, her eyes shamelessly scanning him. “You work out, don’t you?” He nods curtly, barely holding back his irritation. Alyssa laughs softly at her own comment, but Rafe is already tuning her out. His thoughts drift back to Y/N. He can’t wait to walk away from this pointless conversation and return to her.

In the kitchen, Y/N is slicing fruit for a smoothie when Pope joins her, sliding onto a nearby stool. His eyes flick toward where Rafe and Alyssa are seated.

“They’ve been talking for a while.” He notes casually. Y/N glances in their direction briefly before returning her attention to the fruit. Her hands move quickly, but her grip on the knife is noticeably tense.

“Are you okay?” Pope asks gently. “Maybe…put the knife down for a second?” Startled, Y/N looks at her trembling hand and sets the knife aside with a sigh.

“I’m fine. Just…you know.” She struggles to explain, but Pope nods knowingly.

“I get it. My ex, she was gorgeous.”

“She’s not dead, Pope.” Y/N quips, cracking a small smile despite herself and he laughs.

“Fair. But yeah, she always got a lot of attention. And I’m not the jealous type, well, I try not to be, but it got to me sometimes.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just…worried.” Y/N admits.

“That’s fair.” Pope says thoughtfully. “But even if things don’t go as planned, you’ll find someone who’s perfect for you.” He pauses, smirking. “Maybe he’s closer than you think.” Y/N chuckles, shaking her head as Pope blushes.

“Thanks, Pope. I appreciate it.” She says warmly before turning back to her smoothie.

“Hey.” Rafe says casually, drawing both of their gazes. Cleo smirks, rising from her seat.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the villa comes alive once again, music and laughter weaving through the air. Islanders mingle, drinks in hand, their conversations buzzing with energy. Y/N sits with Cleo on the daybed, both of them laughing loudly as they chat, until he approaches.

“I’ll leave you two to do your little Bluetooth thing.” She teases, waving a hand between them. Y/N rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement.

“See you later, boo.” Y/N murmurs as Cleo leans down to kiss her cheek, then walks away with a knowing grin. Rafe takes her place, kneeling on the daybed before sitting down beside Y/N.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice soft as his eyes fall to her hands, which are busy twisting the rings on her fingers.

“Yeah.” She whispers, but her tone betrays her. Rafe frowns slightly and reaches for her hand, his touch gentle.

“Be honest. Did I do something? You’ve been...distant. Earlier, we were good. Did I say something stupid?” Y/N lifts her head, her eyes meeting his briefly before she shakes her head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s just...I...” She trails off, struggling to find the words.

“You can tell me. Whatever it is, I want to know.” He squeezes her hand, his voice steady and comforting. Y/N exhales deeply.

“Alyssa.” She finally murmurs. “She...I’m worried.” Rafe shakes his head immediately.

“You shouldn't be.” He says.

“I mean, I get it…it's pretty early to close things off or anything and of course I'm not gonna ask you to do something like that. It's just…I like…how we are. The vibes, the talks, everything. And…I wanna explore this. But I can't help and worry. You know?” She explains and he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I get it. And for the record, I do like how things are going too. But…I'm not interested in her.” He assures her, his voice firm. She exhales softly, the tension in her shoulders easing.

“Okay.” She whispers. “But…what if-”

“She's not gonna pick me. I made it pretty clear that I'm not interested in her. Okay? Can you trust me on this?” He asks, grabbing her hand to reassure her. Her fingers tighten around his as she nods, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, everything else fades away. Her breath hitches when his gaze drops to her lips, but the moment is broken by the sharp ping of a phone. Y/N pulls back slightly, her eyes darting to the kitchen where Topper is staring at his screen.

“I got a text!” He announces. “Can all islanders gather at the firepit? #shitisabouttogodown #stealingtime.”

The group buzzes with chatter as they move toward the firepit. Rafe helps Y/N to her feet, keeping her hand in his as they walk. Just before they arrive, he gently tugs her closer.

“We’re going to be okay.” He murmurs, his arm slipping around her waist as he leads her to sit down beside him.

The tension in the air is thick as everyone waits, nerves on edge. Another phone ping sounds and all eyes turn to Alyssa, who smirks as she stands, her phone in hand.

“Alyssa, it’s time for you to choose which boy you want to couple up with.” She reads aloud, stepping forward. The girls exchange uneasy glances, but Y/N keeps her focus on the fire.

“This wasn’t an easy decision.” Alyssa begins, her tone practiced. “I didn’t have much time to think and I’m not sure if it’s the right choice. But this boy made me feel welcome and I really enjoyed the banter we shared. And I think there's more to explore with him.”

“The boy I want to couple up with is...” She pauses, the silence stretching. Sarah glances nervously at Y/N, Kiara’s leg bounces restlessly and Cleo suppresses a yawn.

“Rafe.”

Y/N feels her chest tighten at the reveal, her heart sinking.

“Oh my god.” Maddy whispers. Rafe looks at Alyssa, stunned, before turning to Y/N, whose face is unreadable as she stares into the flames. Alyssa steps closer, extending her hand to Rafe. He rises reluctantly, not touching her, his gaze fixed on Y/N.

Another ping breaks the silence. Y/N picks up her phone with trembling hands.

“Y/N, you are now single.” She reads quietly. “But don’t worry, the best is yet to come. #itsokayboo #troubleinparadise.” Sarah and Maddy immediately move to her side, guiding her away from the firepit. Rafe steps forward, trying to follow, but Cleo blocks him.

“Give her some time, pretty boy.” She says firmly, following the group with Kiara.

“What the fuck just happened?” JJ mutters, staring into the firepit as the others look on in stunned silence.

In the kitchen, the girls gather around Y/N on the couch, their faces etched with concern.

“How are you feeling?” Sarah asks cautiously and Cleo elbows her.

“What kind of question is that? Obviously, she feels like shit.”

“Cleo!” Maddy snaps, before turning back to Y/N. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N lies, twisting her ring anxiously.

“Don’t do that.” Kiara says softly, kneeling in front of her. “It’s okay to be upset.” Y/N exhales shakily.

“He told me not to worry. That he made it clear to her he wasn’t interested. He said she wouldn’t pick him. And yet...here we are.” The girls all stare at her with sympathy, wanting to comfort her. Before the girls can respond, Rafe’s voice cuts in.

“Can we talk?” He asks.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Kiara snaps, her tone icy.

“Fuck off.” Sarah adds sharply.

“All men do is lie.” Cleo mutters, shoving him back. Rafe stumbles and sighs, his eyes glued on Y/N who looks at Maddy on the other side. Maddy rubs her back as she stares back at her.

“Please.” Rafe says desperately, his eyes fixed on Y/N. “I didn’t know she’d do this. Y/N, come on.” Y/N finally looks up at him, her voice steady but cold.

“She wouldn’t have chosen you if you hadn’t given her a reason to.”

“I didn’t!” Rafe exclaims, frustration coloring his voice. “I told her I wasn’t interested!”

“Yeah, right.” Y/N retorts. “I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. You made me trust you and now you’ve ruined it.”

“She didn’t misunderstand.” Alyssa interjects smugly, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t mean to betray your trust…upset you. I meant it when I said that I'm not into her. Okay? I don't know, she…she must have misunderstood.” He exclaims, Alyssa and the boys following her.

Rafe turns to her, frustration evident in his furrowed brows, but before he can say anything, Y/N stands abruptly from the couch and heads inside the villa. The group shifts their attention to Rafe and Alyssa.

“Alyssa, what do you mean?” Sarah asks, adjusting her dress.

“I mean, Rafe was being nice to me, flirting, even. He never said he was closed off or that he wasn’t interested.” Alyssa claims, her voice laced with confidence. Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Alyssa, I’m not interested in you. And I wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite. That’s it.” His tone is firm, and Alyssa stiffens at his words. “I like Y/N.” He continues, his voice unwavering.

“I like how things are with her. Yeah, it’s early and she said we should keep our options open, but I’m not keeping them open for you.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving everyone stunned, including Alyssa.

Upstairs, Y/N sits on the terrace, absentmindedly twisting a ring on her finger as her eyes glimmer. The soft click of the door closing behind Rafe makes her glance up.

“Can we please talk?” He asks, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. She nods and he steps closer, settling beside her.

“Don’t shut me out.” He pleads. “Yell at me if you have to. Just…don’t shut me out.” Y/N sighs, her gaze dropping to her hands.

“I shouldn’t be upset. We never said we were exclusive and it’s still early. But…when she said you made her feel welcome, that she wanted to explore something with you, it frustrated me. Because you told me you weren’t interested. That you made it clear to her.”

“I did make it clear.” Rafe insists. “I swear, I never meant to give her the wrong idea.” She exhales shakily.

“Trust is a big thing for me, Rafe. And it’s not easy for me to just-” She stops, her voice trailing off. Rafe reaches out, resting a reassuring hand on her thigh.

“I know I messed up. I should have been more direct with her.” His thumb brushes against her skin in a soothing motion. “I get it if you’re upset. You have every right to. But I want to make this up to you, to prove to you that I like you, Y/N. That I’m in this.” His voice softens. “I can’t promise I won’t screw up again, because, honestly? I can be kind of an idiot.” A small laugh escapes her lips and Rafe grins.

“But I can promise to try for you.” He finishes, the sincerity in his eyes catching her off guard. She leans in slightly and he takes the hint, cupping her face gently. Her eyes flicker to his lips.

“I don’t want you to feel obliged to choose me.” She murmurs. “I love spending time with you, but I don’t want you turning people down just because of me or because you think you have to.”

“Just…let's see where this takes us? Okay?” She asks and Rafe doesn’t answer. Instead, he closes the distance, pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens for half a second before melting into him, the kiss soft yet charged. When they finally pull apart, Rafe’s lips curl into a small smile.

“Promise me you won’t shut me out.” He whispers. “I need to hear you. Even if it’s just to tell me I’m being a dumbass.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

“Okay, Rafey.” The moment the nickname leaves her lips, Rafe tenses. He swallows hard.

“Wh-what?” His voice comes out rougher than expected. She smirks.

“It’s not ridiculous.” He mutters under his breath, making her brows lift in confusion.

“Oh, that ridiculous nickname Alyssa called you earlier.” She rolls her eyes, grinning.

“Oh? My bad, I didn’t realize you actually liked it-”

“No, no.” He interrupts quickly. “I don’t mean that. I just-” He hesitates, then exhales. “I don’t like it when she says it. But…when you say it? I don’t mind.” Y/N tilts her head, amused.

“Oh? Good to know.” A knowing smile tugs at her lips as she leans back and Rafe watches her, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Under the night sky, they sit together in comfortable silence, the tension between them slowly fading into something lighter, something undeniable.

Later that night, as the islanders get ready for bed, Y/N heads downstairs and immediately notices the newly added bed in the room, her name plaque resting on top. She sighs softly, slipping under the covers and getting comfortable. Maddy walks past, pausing just long enough to press a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to her own bed. Moments later, JJ strolls by and stops beside her, smirking.

“You know, Maddy wouldn’t mind me joining you.” He teases. Y/N rolls her eyes, fighting back a smile.

“Go to bed, J.” She says and JJ shrugs.

“Well, I offered.” He exclaims before wandering off. Soon after, Rafe makes his way to his own bed, only to pause when he notices the name plaque on it has changed. His gaze sweeps the room until he spots her. Without hesitation, he walks over, leans down and presses a kiss to her lips before she can react.

“I’m gonna miss you tonight.” He murmurs, his lips still grazing hers. From across the room, Topper and Sarah holler in amusement, making Y/N giggle. She playfully pecks Rafe’s lips once more.

“You mean you’re gonna miss me hogging the blanket?” She teases.

“Oh, 100%.” He deadpans. “I love waking up in the middle of the night freezing while you’re wrapped up like a human burrito.” She laughs, giving him a gentle push.

“Go to your bed.” She murmurs. Rafe smirks, backing away slowly before finally climbing into his bed, conveniently positioned across from hers. He doesn’t take his eyes off her, watching as she shakes her head and turns to chat with Cleo.

Then, Alyssa enters the room. The energy shifts as everyone’s attention flickers toward her. Without saying a word, she moves to her bed and lies down, keeping to the very edge. She doesn’t look at Rafe. Doesn’t speak to anyone.

“Goodnight, everyone!” Kiara calls from across the room, sparking a chorus of sleepy goodnights as the lights dim. Just as the room falls into silence, Rafe’s voice cuts through the darkness.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” She furrows her brows, cheeks instantly warming, nervous for what to come out of his mouth.

“W-what?”

The entire room seems to hold its breath, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“For the love of God and for my sake, please don’t dream of Captain America tonight.” He jokes. Laughter erupts, filling the space. Y/N grins, grabbing her pillow and launching it across the room. It hits Rafe with a muffled thud, making him groan. As the laughter fades and the room settles, Y/N exhales softly, sinking into her bed.

Maybe Rafe was right. They’re going to be okay.

to be continued...

A/N: a little late valentine's day gift for you guys, hehe

taglist: @cherrygirlfriend @judesgfirl @slickdickwitchbitchh @leather-n-velvet @alinavalentine @littlelamy @nami11 @madiisynnxx @ts1mp0ne @starkeyslibrary @venusluves @rafecameronsfavourite @lolharrystylesissexy @nofacenocase00 @k4yr14 @drewslefttoe @tinie03 @angielvsnick @dellevans @malibuhearts @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @harryweeniee @imawhoreforu @fastlovela @jjmaybankmylovee @miserablebl00d @angeliki-spiteri9711 @drewsnr1slut @laniirackssss @emotionsmgcbabe @oconnrs @missabsey @amterasuu @cornliastreett @pvyden @italk2god @swagmoneydrew @lerclec @emmaaas-posts @dorcas4meadowes @isabellaxlilah @xoxosblogsblog @bxbychxrry @julesbog @annaaaamichelle @st8rkey @lewispool @my-name-is-baby @silkylovey @soincredible (if you have added yourself on my taglist and your tag doesn't show up here or if you want to add yourself, comment or reblog!!)

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luveline · 1 day ago

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hey jade!!! do u think we can get a little something with bombshell and spencer 🙏🙏 missing them

—you and spencer get serious. 1.3k

“So,” you say, holding two hands behind your back, shoulders tight in a vague attempt at flirting, “come here often?”

“To Austin?” Spencer nods. “This is the tenth time we’ve been in the last five years.”

“Big city. Thirteenth most populous city in the entire country, right? That’s a lot of crime.”

Spencer smiles approvingly. “Right.”

“At least this one was easy.”

You’re standing in the sunshine outside of a bar near the hangar, waiting for the jet to finish loading, the rest of the team inside drinking a round of well-earned drinks. Spencer was in good spirits but didn’t seem to love the ruckus, so you’d made some excuse about feeling light-headed and promised you’d be alright as long as Spencer came outside with you.

You don’t not feel dizzy. You’ve been under the weather all week. Spencer’s concern has had moments of obviousness. He’s roped it in for now, only evidence of his worry the lack of space between you.

You’re enjoying the game you’re playing for now. You lovingly ignore him. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Uh, trying to get home, honestly.”

“Yeah?”

“See, I know this girl,” he says, his voice a soft pattern of itself, “and she’s– she’s great. She really is. She’s smart, and she’s beautiful, and she’s stubborn as a mule when she wants to be. She won’t let me take care of her out here. I’m hoping when we get back, she’ll let me take her home. So I can look after her.” He has no intention of playing the ignoring game with you.

“Stubborn as a mule,” you murmur, leaning back against the bar’s brick exterior, lulled into security by his voice, and the sweet breeze that passes over you, the right side of cold as the sun begins to set behind the buildings across the street and beyond.

“You like that one?”

“No. Not my favourite comparison.”

Spencer holds his hand out across the way, palm up but low, his fingers still. “Stubborn,” he says as you slip your hand into his, “but in a good way.”

“…I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say softly.

“But I want to.”

You don’t know why you’ve been struggling with Spencer lately. It certainly isn’t something he’s done wrong, and it’s not the first time he’s wanted to look after you. But things between you are looking serious. Just a few weeks ago you took the ‘next step’, long overdue, and you told him you loved him. You do.

“If I did something–”

You wince and he stops. You knew he’d bring it up eventually, but it doesn’t make it hurt less. What a mess you’re making. “You didn’t do anything,” you say.

“Are you sure?”

“No, Spencer, it’s not you, really, it’s not, it’s me–”

The face he makes is of unbridled horror. You’re worried he’ll snatch his hand back. He squeezes tighter. “What are you saying?” he asks, his frown a pout that turns your heart.

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m sorry, that was a fright wasn’t it?” you ask, squeezing him too, pulling at him as you slip against his side. Your faces are close enough to kiss. “Not breaking up. I can’t describe how much I don’t want that.”

“But?” he asks.

“But… there’s been some chafing, lately, on my end.”

“‘Cos of me?”

“Aw, Spencer,” you murmur, turning your front into his side as you hold your free hand over his heart, “no, baby. No… No, it’s not because of you, or– it’s not your fault. I was alone for a while before you, and I guess being sick just reminded me that things are different.”

“And you don’t like it?”

“Spencer, please,” you plead gently, rubbing your thumb against his chest. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I love you–”

“I love you.”

“–and I’m not asking for anything here, not space, not for you to change, I just want to tell you how I’ve been feeling so you can stop confusing it for something you might’ve done wrong.”

Some days being with Spencer feels like you’re the same soul in two different bodies. It’s moments like this that remind you of how human he is, the depth of his feelings, and how much he cares about you —how much you can affect his life. He’s frowning like he’s not far from tears and you regret ever bringing it up in the first place, but you have to finish now.

“It’s scary, for me, sometimes, to be with you,” you say eventually.

“For me, too.”

“I worry I’ll get used to you and one day I won’t have you.”

“I promise you will,” he says.

“But you don’t know that.”

“For however long you’ll let me have you, you can have me,” he says simply.

You tease a line into his chest with your two fingertips. “I love how you look after me. There’s nothing like it. I fall asleep sick and I wake up knowing you’re there to make me a cup of tea, and to help me shower when my head’s hurting, you don’t let me down. You know that?”

“So why can’t I look after you tonight?” he asks, eyes dark as pine tar.

“You can. You think I’m not going home with you?”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“Please let me come home with you.”

Spencer lets his forehead drop gently against yours. The breeze runs a loop around your legs and cools your too-warm shoulders, pulling your blouse from clammy skin. For a while, you wait for him to speak, but when he doesn’t you figure you’ve overwhelmed him with your confession, maybe you’ve upset him.

He rubs the tips of your noses together slightly.

“Are you still dizzy?”

“No.” Your voice is a croak. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, being scared of the future? It’s okay.”

“I think it sounded like it was your fault.”

“I won’t take it that way if you don’t mean it like that,” he promises. “I just want to look after you, angel. I want to be with you. I’m scared all the time that one day I won’t have you, but then you smile at me or you–” He laughs. “You tug on my hair trying to make me kiss you and I don’t feel that way for a while. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

“The only thing that worries me is life.”

“Not much you can do about that,” he says.

“I know. I didn’t mean for it to get to you, too.”

He makes a nice humming sound, says, “I want you to feel better, and come home with me, and I don’t really care if I have to beg. You know I will.”

“You should know you don’t have to beg for anything. Not from me.”

Spencer’s hand comes up to your neck. He holds it carefully, pressing the soft of his cheek against your temple, the other hand working its way behind your back. “And you’re worried I might leave you?” he asks, laughing bashfully as he presses two kisses to whatever bit of skin he can fin, the side of your nose and the soft well under your eye. “When you’re saying stuff like that to me? In public?”

“It’s hardly the worst thing I’ve said to you in public.”

Spencer pulls away to meet your eyes. He's smiling. Worry and love line his gaze. “Do you wanna go find something to eat before we leave?”

“Yeah,” you nod, trying hard not to smile ear to ear. “Let’s go eat.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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obaewankenope · 20 hours ago

Text

They are, in some ways, scared of being a bother to authors, aye. But there's also an aspect of some who read fic, might hit kudos, and then move on because they're just used to a reaction notification being enough (see most social media nowadays that lets you just heart or thumbs up shit and then keep on scrolling).

Some don't know they can comment at all.

Some don't care that they can comment because they expect the kudos button to be enough.

Some don't know what to say and fear bothering the author because they've seen how people commenting on things on Instagram etc can get dogpiled on and are scared of that happening to them.

Some just don't have the time to leave a comment because they're bing-reading and forget the fics they've read.

Some think a 'shout out' on other social media is preferred when, honestly, authors want to have engagement with their readers (we eat up comments even as simple as "<3 <3 <3" seriously, we genuinely do) but they're used to platforms like tiktok and Instagram where a 'shout out' is more valuable because it means hits and financial payoff. They don't realise we don't get paid on AO3 to write fic so a shout out isn't as useful to us as an actual comment or bookmarking of our fic with screeching in the bookmark notes.

Like, there's lots of varying reasons why commenting on fic isn't as prevalent anymore (many of which tend to stem from "reaction to a post being equated with the kudos button and thus 'enough'" because that's usually fine on other platforms) but anxiety and being scared/worried/concerned with causing offense or upset to the author (or anyone who reads the comments) is a big one too.

With how overwhelmingly powerful cancel-culture is and how people are told about or hear of times when authors have ripped on people leaving 'reviews' when they've been unasked for, a fair number of individuals likely worry about leaving a comment that, in some way, could be construed as criticism or unasked for critique and getting cancelled for it as a result.

The best way to avoid that, however, isn't to not comment, it's to have a bare-bones structure for leaving comments, mainly:

I loved/liked/enjoyed this fic/chapter/one-shot! My favourite bit is/was probably [insert short summary or specific bit of fic like a sentence or paragraph] because it made me feel/think about/remember sth specific to the fandom!

Amazing/good fic! 10/10 would recommend! Extra kudos!

That's, ultimately, the easiest way to leave a comment on a fic or chapter because it gives the author sth to look at, go "oh they liked that bit! Nice! I enjoyed writing that part as well!" and lets them know you read the fic even if its not a 5 page long, size 12 font in Times New Roman essay review. It also avoids any of the risks of unintentional critique or critical reviews that authors tend to not ask for (unless we state such in our author notes) that often tend to be upsetting for the author to read because no one wants to be criticised (even if it is being done in a helpful way) unexpectedly when they haven't asked for it.

And if that kind of comment is too much, or you're too anxious for it, even the simpler:

Loved it! Extra kudos! <3

Works well enough for us authors to know you liked what we wrote enough to tell us that and shows us that it's only because you can't leave more than one kudos per fic that's stopping you from spamming us with kudos.

Just, if you can, comment. We don't need fancy, we just need to know you care.

"Ao3 should allow multiple kudos" "I want to be able to leave more than one kudos"

COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC

I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE COMMENTS MUCH NOW WHEN THE ONLY WAY TO SHOW APPRECIATION FOR A SINGLE CHAPTER IS COMMENTING AND I AM NOT HAVING THIS BULLSHIT BE LIKE TIKTOK WHERE NO ONE EVER COMMENTS POSITIVITY

FOR FUCKS SAKE JUST COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC YOU DON'T NEED A MULTIPLE KUDOS BUTTON YOU NEED ACTUAL WORDS

TRUST ME ON ANY WEBSITE OR APP I POST COMMENTS AND WORDS ARE 10X BETTER THAN ANY PLAIN LIKE AND WORDLESS REBLOG IF YOU LIKE SOMETHING LEAVE WORDS

COMMENT

THE

FUCKING

FICS

#ao3 #conversations #Commenting on fic #Writing #Writing talk #Ao3 comments

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tjelestial · 20 hours ago

Text

Pick A Lana:

Your Person's Fantasies of You 18+

PAC: Your Person's Fantasies of You 18+

☆ How to choose your pile: Take a deep breath, hold it for a sec - exhale slowly through your mouth. Close your eyes and focus on the question. Once you're ready, take a look at the number and choose the pile you feel drawn to.

If you feel called by more than one pile, there might be more messages for you.

Remember: This is a general reading, therefore I'd be picking up messages for collective audience. Take only what resonates and leave what doesn’t. May you find your message!

PILE 1

Hi Pile 1, welcome to your reading! Okay, right of the bat Pile 1, your person is giving ✨possessive✨ I just heard “You’re mine.” Damn. It’s the ultimate "I own you, and you own me" energy. There’s no in-between, just a raw, unshakable pull between you two. It’s almost obsessive, the way their body craves yours, the way their mind keeps coming back to thoughts of you, even when they try to focus on work and other things.

They fantasize about taking their time with you, making you beg before they finally give you what you want. I heard “arguing is foreplay”. It’s the kind of connection where even your arguments hold heat—one second you’re challenging them, the next, they’ve got you against the wall, their mouth on yours, hands gripping tight because they can’t keep their hands off you. Your body is like a prize they’ve won, and they’re going to worship every inch of it. For some of you, your person don’t shy from PDA and they like to show you off.

You’re someone who set high standards for yourself and actually put in the work to meet them. Whether it’s in your career, social circle, or relationships, you exude the energy of someone who knows their worth. For some of you, I’m getting IxTP/xxFJ vibes.

Your person is a provider. I almost thought it’s giving sugar daddy vibes, with how much they spoil you materialistically. But there’s this insecurity within them. Maybe they think you’re too good to be true? Maybe it’s fear of losing you? Maybe you shine so bright? But they don’t want to let you go. And in the heat of it all? They can’t resist you. They want to fuck the insecurity out of their system, to make you scream their name until they know you’re theirs in every way possible.

They love taking you from behind too, it’s one of their fantasies, gripping your waist, pulling your hair against them because they need to feel all of you. They’re possessive with their hands, their touches—palm against your throat, choking (consensually), fingers tangled in your hair, nails digging into your hips. They don’t just want to make love to you; they want to mark you with hickies, claim you, make sure you remember exactly who’s fucking you so good.

They love the way you let them take control, but they also love it when you push back—when you straddle them, pin them down, show them that you know exactly what you’re doing, it drives them crazy. They want to own you, but at the same time, you own them just as much. And they’ll make damn sure you never forget that.

For some of you, there’s also cuddle/spooning fantasy going on. They want to hold you tight after, in that sweet afterglow. But even while they’re holding you, their hands are gonna wander, teasing, exploring. Honestly they just can’t help it 🤷‍♀️

PILE 2

Oh, now this is the seductress irresistible pile. Your person? They don’t just want you—they ache for you, in a way that borders on desperation. What did you do to them Pile 2 🥵Your person hates how much control you have over them, but at the same time, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

They can’t stand it when you play with them, when you act all innocent, when you act like you don’t know exactly what you do to them. But you do know. You’re giving that "Who, me? I would never officer..." energy while knowing damn well you’re driving them insane. It’s not outright teasing, it’s subtle. You don’t have to try to be alluring; it’s just who you are. You don’t deny anything outright, but you never fully give in right away either. It’s that delicate push-and-pull that drives your person up the wall.

And you love it. You love making them work for it, love seeing them lose their composure, love the way their hands shake slightly when they finally get to touch you after being deprived.

It’s no brainer that they fantasize about you driving them insane—about you dragging things out, taking your time, leaving them with pent up frustration. But once they snap? Once they’ve had enough? That’s when they lose control, that’s when they take you the way they’ve been day dreaming about. Bending you against the nearest surface, with their hands gripping your waist. Spanking you, punishing you. They love to see you squirm, love to see you struggling to keep up with them, love the way your body arches against theirs, silently pleading for more.

Before I continue, if you feel drawn to Pile 1, that’s because there might be a message for you there.

For some of you, your person is obsessed with your mouth—there’s something unique about it. Could be your lips is pouty, or it’s unusually red, could be it has hyperpigmentation on the outer lips so it looks like you have lip liner on, could be the shape is plump and full, or it’s just that you have a smart mouth. Whatever it is, they just can’t get enough. The way your lips part, the way they run their fingers around it—it’s intoxicating. They’ll kiss you like they’re starved.

They like to see you. Mirror sex might be present. So they can take in every shift of your expression, every little gasp and whimper that escapes your lips. They want you to see exactly what they do to you, want you to watch the way your body moves against theirs, want you to witness the complete mess they turn you into.

PILE 3

Ah, Pile 3, your person is craving that deep emotional and physical connection—this isn’t just about lust, your person wants to make love to you. This pile got me listening to Make Love to You by Boys II Men and All My Life by Kci and Jojo. Your person is very passionate, loving and tender.

You are the indulgence they can never resist. You feel like a luxury, like a hidden treasure or something rare. They fantasize about giving you everything, pampering you with the finest things, worshipping you with their hands and touches. They want to be the only one who gets to see you like this—laid out for them, body relaxed, eyes hazy with pleasure as they take their time with you. The way you respond to them, the way your body shivers under their touch, the way you take all that they give you—it’s maddening for them.

They also fantasize about being taken care of and indulging in pure sensuality—slow, lingering touches, bodies tangled in sheets. There’s whispered praises, there’s physical craving—running hands over warm skin, feeling soft lips, savoring the connection fully. They also dream of devotion, they want you to crave them, to cherish them, to treat them like something precious and irreplaceable. Your person might have Leo/Aries in their big 3.

They fantasize about being wanted and wanting you so badly that restraint is impossible for both of you. The moment when all that confidence, all that dominance, turns into need. Because as much as they want to own you, as much as they want to be the one in charge, you have a way of turning the tables. They think they’re the one running the show, but then you touch them just right, whisper something sinful in their ear, look at them with those eyes, and suddenly, they’re the one falling apart.

They don’t even realize how much power you have over them until it’s too late. Until they’re groaning your name, gripping you tight like you’re the only thing keeping them grounded. Until they’re letting you do whatever you want to them because, fuck, they need it. They need you. It’s rare for them to lose control like this, but with you? You pull it out of them effortlessly. They fantasize about you taking from them—taking your pleasure, pushing them to the edge over and over until they’re left breathless and completely wrecked.

It’s not just the sex, though. It’s the connection. They want all of you, body and soul. That’s why they never stop at just one round. Even after the fire dies down, they’ll hold you close, fingers trailing lazily over your skin, pressing soft kisses to your temple. Because for them, this isn’t just lust. This is everything. And Pile 3 they’ll never get enough of you.

PILE 4

Welcome to your reading Pile 4! Your person fantasy carries a heavy emotional undercurrent, it’s not just about physical desire but something deeper, unspoken, and possibly even unresolved. There’s a sense of longing, nostalgia, and emotional intensity, as if their thoughts about you are tangled between wanting, missing, and aching for something far away or unattainable. This is more than just fantasy; there’s something real and deep about the way they think you. For some of you, this person could be an ex.

Your person’s fantasies might be tinged with frustration or a sense of emotional distance. They want you, but something always feels just out of reach. They imagine scenarios where they try to get your attention, but you’re so detached—which only makes them crave you more. There could also be a desire for an unexpected, intense moment that breaks through the emotional barriers.

Now if this is an ex, for them, you’re the one that got away. The one they can’t forget, the one they can’t let go of, no matter how much time passes. Their fantasy isn’t just about having you—it’s about getting you back. About fixing what was broken, about proving to you that no one else will ever know your body the way they do. Because no matter how much they try to move on, no one feels like you. No one haunts them the way you do.

For the action, they fantasized about a night where the past no longer matters, where it’s just you and them, tangled together in sheets that smells like longing. No more distance, no more hesitation. Just raw, unfiltered need. Their feelings go beyond just sex —they want to reclaim you. To remind you, through every slow drag of their fingers, every deep, desperate thrust, exactly who they are to you. They want to see it in your eyes—the way your walls crumble, the way you give in to what’s always been there between you.

You could undo them with just a single touch. And they know it. That’s why, when they have you under them, all soft gasps and breathy moans, they take their time. This isn’t just about pleasure—it’s about proving a point. That no one else will ever make you feel like this. That no one else will ever know you the way they do.

They love how your body trembles when they push—push you to the edge, push you to need them just as much as they need you. You’re so familiar, yet somehow, every touch feels brand new. And it has them consumed, you have them mad.

There’s a strong nostalgic, bittersweet and sentimental quality to their thoughts. They might fantasize about reuniting, rekindling an old spark, or returning to a time when things felt easier. There’s also a sweet yet intense craving for deep emotional intimacy, wanting to feel truly connected, known, and seen by you.

#tarotblr #tarot community #free readings #pac #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot cards #tarot daily #tarot game #tarot reading #love reading tarot

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omgfangirlland · 2 days ago

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The Shadows That Nurture 13

I saw these suits and I had an epiphany while thinking about what the bat sis should wear: one and two

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 13 >>next(TBC)

It always took a while for you to process something, especially this. You thought you’ll be fine- another shitty dad, nothing new, just keep yourself busy- work, college, train Mark, help around the house, repeat… You never realized how much you actually loved the man, how attached you grew to him despite how hard you tried to brush it off. You never realized until you crashed out after a mission while seeing a kid cry for their parents.

You moved behind some buildings, hiding between some industrial trash bins, curled into a ball, and just broke down. Bruce was whatever, he didn’t choose you like he chose the others, but Nolan did. The fucker went out of his way to take you- and yet… And yet neither Debbie, Mark nor you were enough to make him stay, to make him think of you lot as more than pets he can throw away. Those thoughts clouded your mind, and turned on you quickly, not even the shadows could soothe the pain.

The Immortal found you an hour later and gently picked you up. “It’s not your fault.” Was the only thing he said while he carried you home. After that Cecil insisted you take a break, which you found absurd, you were self-employed, worked under your own company, and the taxes you paid proved that, but you didn’t fight it. So, you’ve been rotting in your bed for a bit, simply not finding the energy to do anything but keep yourself clean and occasionally cook, just to help Debbie a bit.

The funeral of the Guardians went and passed, Mark had taken to moving into your room before he went to University, Eve, Amber, Samson, John, and your college friends occasionally visited. You haven’t seen Immortal since he got in a yelling match with Mark, calling you both as dangerous as Nolan. That had set your mental health back a few days.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John didn’t go back to the Justice League space station, he hung around for a bit, letting you hang onto him for a while, until you fell asleep. He didn’t go even when you were deep into the dream world. Constantine still stayed around, mostly sitting on the edge of the couch you slept on, only moving when Debbie invited him to some wine. He left the next day after you woke up.

So, when the pull of an emergency teleportation triggered and made him almost kiss the ground he wasn’t surprised to see the mug of an angry Batman with photos of your civilian persona from the fight with your dad and a screenshot of your hero persona wearing the “I killed the joker” T-shirt next to a tourist on the big screens. “Explain.” Was the only thing that came out of Bruce.

Constantine just sighed from the depths of his soul while pulling a chair and lighting a cigarette, ignoring Superman and Wonder Woman. “Could explain a lot of stuff, Batsy, be specific.” John didn’t even flinch as Batman slammed his fist on the table. “She killed the Joker.”

“Doesn’t look like I need to explain anything then, mate.” John blows the smoke away from Batman, he wasn’t that ballsy. ”You already know she killed him, what more would you want?”

“We just want to know how you know her. How you know Omni-Man.” Superman was quick to play the good cop, but John just shrugged. Honestly, he had to deal with way too many shades because of the clown, good riddance. “She’s a friend, none of you could kill her. Slow her down? Mm, maybe. Eliminate her? Never.” He knew killing was never Batman’s plan A, but he wasn’t betting on it.

“As for her daddy…” He sighs again, rubbing his temple. “He’s a Viltrumite, they conquer words and ‘better’ them. Why care now? You never did before.” John was referring to both you and the Viltrumites. “She’s a dangerous unknown.” Ah, and this is why Bobo was named the greatest detective and not the Bat. “And if the Viltrumites are as dangerous as you’ve said-“

“You only want to do something about it now because it may affect you.” John got up slowly not looking away as Batman towered over him. “The Viltrumites don’t have a kryptonite, Bruce.” He growled at the man. “We either get another fifty Supermen to beat their heads in until they stop moving or we change their mind. And look how well that option went for The Sorceress and Invincible.” Batman’s frown only deepened.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Black Samson was beyond worried. The Immortal had been off the hinges for a long while, hot and cold, black and white, exploding at anything and everything, the kids were driving him insane, and you were still missing in action. So, he did what any reasonable man his age would do and snuck into a young woman’s room. Yours specifically.

“Alright, I’ve had enough! You’ve been rotting-“ He stopped as soon as he saw you in your hero gear eating a bowl of sliced fruit. “…I was just eating a snack before going out.” You said while munching away. “Oh… Are you-“

“No… But it’ll be quite hypocritical of me to be mopping around when I nagged you every other week to get back outside.” You shrug. “I’ll get better… eventually. But It’ll take time.” Samson seems to relax at that. “And I had a whole speech-“ You snicker at that. “Yeah- my speech.”

“It was a great speech.” He tried defending himself. “It got me outside and everything.” You smiled, unable to argue with such sound logic. “Thank you for checking up on me, Sam.”

“You’re welcome, kid.” The man smiled at you before turning back to the window. “Now if you excuse me, I’ll leave. I do not want to explain to your mom why I am here-“ The devilish amused cackle that left you only urged the man to hurry.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You did get better… kind of. But it was good enough to make you put up with Lex and his blasted party. Granted, seeing your mom, Mark, and your friends enjoying the party, and destroying the free buffet, made you happy. You were hiding out on the balcony anyway.

“If your mother knew you were drinking alcohol without supervision, she’d have my head. Nice suit.” You snorted at Luthor’s words as he joined you, leaning on the railing with you. “You’d make a nice taxidermy trophy. And thanks, wanted to be different from the other girls.” You joked, nudging the man.

You both took in Metropolis’ night sky, enjoying the silence for a few seconds. “Why is the Immortal looking at you with such sad puppy eyes?” You snort. “Why are Wayne and the Kents here?” Lex just gave a shrug and a shit-eating smirk. “You like the Kents, Bruce Wayne wants to meet The Sorceress on the bat’s behalf, and I forgot to send my secretary the list of guests that was custom-made for the occasion and didn’t have ninety percent of the people here.”

“I like Lois Lane, both Bruce and the Bat can die, and-“ You sigh, rubbing at your temple. “Somehow, I believe that last part. Why are you so attached to my hip, anyway?” Lex gives a sarcastic laugh. “Nice way to avoid my question, but to answer yours, maybe I just want to enjoy the company of my greatest little helper.”

The look that you gave him was a clear expression of how much you thought the man was high on alien weed. “If by helper you’re referring to me calling you stupid for forgetting to check PFAS and Asbestos levels while snapping pictures for the Pulitzer winner herself, Lois Lane- sure. I believe you.”

This is why Luthor enjoyed your madness. The sarcasm, the banter, the mocking with no hard feelings. It made him feel normal. He almost shivered at the thought, perishing it immediately. “There also, might be a mercenary who paid quite a lot to get a seat and have the chance to meet you.”

“Is he mad? Don’t answer that, I don’t think you’re a good judge of that.” You take a sip from your glass. “He’s quite reputable, Slade Willson. He’s-“ You immediately interrupt him. “I know who that is and what he does. Don’t you find it fishy how an apparent assassin with supposed morals just knew you’d host such a thing?”

“Don’t bother- I won’t believe a word that comes out of your smug ass face. I want half of what he gave you.” Lex Luthor just smiled brighter. “I’ll give you the full amount if you come back and tell me everything.” You laugh and accept the deal. You’d never pass on a good gossiping session.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Damn.” Lois said as Clark finished parroting back what he heard from the other side of the room. “I know that she doesn’t like you because she doesn’t know you-“ She said while looking at her husband before turning to Bruce. “But what did you do?”

Bruce’s scowl seemed permanent these past days, his blank look telling Lois that the man was beyond tired, and his silence told her that he didn’t know. “I don’t like how close she is to Luthor.” Clark whispers. “He’s not a good role model for anyone, let alone a young girl who just lost her father. And Slade…”

“She hangs with a lot of rich people and rogues, even talks to some from Gotham.” Bruce frowned at the information Lois provided. “She texts Red Hood and the Sirens quite a lot when she stays around me as I work.” Bruce stopped listening after as his eyes caught you and the bald eagle coming back inside, and he acted.

He quickly passed past the Kents, putting on his Brucie persona and grabbing a full glass of red wine, acting slightly drunk while walking right to the prize. He greeted business people and heroes, walking in a slight zig-zagged pattern to imitate dizziness and when he was close enough, he stumbled. The wine in his glass flew and hit its target.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry-“ His hand was slapped away as you shook with anger, your suit ruined by the wine, and your skin getting sticky. “Don’t you dare touch me-“ You hiss at the man, making his expression shake. “For fucks sake- you two-faced snake, are you just out to ruin everything I have?”

Something in you just snapped as you saw him act like a fool, knowing better than anyone it was all fake, so your hand just moved, grabbing a plate of mini cakes and smashing the sweets right in his face. “Why can’t you just leave me by, asshole?!” You spread the syrupy sweets on the front of his tux and let the plate fall on his feet, dirtying those too.

Lex wasn’t the only one enjoying the show. Slade immediately took the opportunity to join your other side as you tried to dry your neck and shirt. The mercenary politely greeted Luthor, ignored the still in shock Bruce, and introduced himself to you, offering to pay for the cleanup. “You’ll have to excuse Mr. Wayne he’s quite the imbecile.”

Bruce couldn’t even fight the allegation, it was well played by Willson, and acting like a drunk didn’t help his case. So, he just watched as the older man led her away. “Honestly, Brucie. What did you expect to happen? You’ve become too sloppy.” Lex mocked him, but his prideful smirk went away as soon as Mark and Immortal appeared in front of him, Invincible asked Bruce why he was here while the other man asked who he was.

Those two got distracted by each other, turning their anger on one another as they hissed insult after insult. “Oh, boy.” With Luthor’s mutter of disappointment, Bruce turned back, walking to the Kents. “It could have been worse. If it were me, I would have killed you for that, especially as the birthday girl.” Lois said while looking at Bruce. The man just grunts, neither noticing the way Clark tensed up at the information he heard by eavesdropping on Invincible and Immortal.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bruce felt beyond exhausted while he dropped in his chair, blankly looking through the Batcomputer, trying to register everything that happened. “Master Bruce!” He didn’t get a moment of peace before Alfred burst through the door, stopping a few feet in front of him while clutching a picture frame.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla

I said it once, I'll say it again, I always feel like I'm forgetting something.

#neglected reader #yandere x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere invincible #dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader

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whatifitis · 2 days ago

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♡ Pack It Up - CL 16 ♡

SMAU FUCK U TUMBLR AND THE PICTURES PER POST

this is paht 2, paht 1 is here <3

-=+=-

deuxmoi

456,291 Likes

deuxmoi Tom Blyth spotted getting close to his co-star, Emily Bader, after a night on the town.

📷 @/backgrid_usa

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User56 so.. Do yall feel stupid now?

↳ User23 a little…

↳ User12 Okay but how could we not think Tom and Y/n were getting back together? The evidence was stacked

↳ User90 there was no evidence 😭 yall are just stupid and read into things too much

User68 my husband is cheating on me 😱

User77 I hope yall apologize for the way you treated y/n during all this

↳ User33 FR! Like this could’ve seriously taken a toll on y/n and charles relationship. I mean there hasn’t been a peep from either of them since all this shit started.

↳ User87 do you guys think they actually broke up? /gen

↳ User31 honestly the chances are quite high considering the circumstances

-=+=-

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/n_l/n, phoebebridgers, and 912,693 others

charles_leclerc Mon coeur, there are simply no words to say how much I love you and how in love I am with you. Your humor, kindness, and honesty are something I adore so much. I will forever be grateful to have even met you, let alone get to spend my life with you. There is no life without you. Thank you for loving me through everything. I’m in love with the world through the eyes of this girl.

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y/n_l/n my favorite person in the whole world. thank YOU for loving me through everything. you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you forever

francisca.cgomes hurt her ever and you’re chopped liver

↳ charles_leclerc i only intend on loving her til my last breath

↳ pierregasly Enough with the poetry speaking, it’s creepy and makes me look bad

-=+=-

f1gossippofficial

459,291 Likes

f1gossippofficial uh oh, seems as if Mr. Snow was just playing y/n 🤔 the cold hearted snake was spotted making out with his co-star AND there’s talk of him sending messages to his friends about wanting y/n back so that he could “trick that stupid bitch into thinking she’s loveable”. He also was heard speaking ill about our beloved y/n and stating that she was “talentless” and that he should’ve never wasted his time on someone so “boring”

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User29 what a fucking twat honestly

User53 and here i thought he was one of the good ones 🤧

↳ User77 hate to break it to you, babe. but there’s no good ones

↳ User53 true true

User44 yall really didnt listen to ‘complex’ and it shows

User84 the picture is sending me 💀

User20 TOM BLYTH I WILL FUCK YOUR MOM AND FUCK U UP I HOPE YOU STUB YOUR TOES AND THAT BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW ARE ALWAYS MICROWAVE WARM 😡😡🤬🤬🤬🖕🖕🖕🦶🦶🦶🦶🫵🫵🫵🫵

-=+=-

charles_leclerc posted a story

-=+=-

y/n_l/n

Liked by charlesleclerc, pierregasly, 1,343,454 others

y/n_l/n thank you so much to f1 for inviting me to perform for the race this weekend! it was so much fun and i LOVED being able to perform my new song ‘call it what you want’ for the first time! (it will be out friday!). I also wanna thank the crowd for joining me in singing happy birthday to the love of my LIFE. this weekend was amazing and i will cherish these moments forever <3

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charles_leclerc Not only do I have the hottest gf ever, but I have the sweetest one. I don’t deserve you, truly. You’re my angel

↳ y/n_l/n what can i say 🤷 im just smart as hell (and so very in love with you)

pierregasly STOP RAISING THE BAR PLEASE IM JUST A MAN ↳ francisca.cgomes 😘 i love my balding bf

#f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 au #f1 x reader #charles leclerc smau #cl16 smau #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x yn #cl16 fanfic #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc au #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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sirhamburrger · 2 hours ago

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yoichi isagi is just a little younger than you. that’s what you find out, at least, when he and the other blue lock players are first introduced to bastard münchen.

this has held true, for obvious reasons, alongside the three undeniable truths that will hold true for as long as michael kaiser and alexis ness play for the team, and you keep managing it.

but you're think you might want to add another to this relatively short list, because -

yoichi isagi is persistent. good for getting the results that bastard münchen wants, but not so good for you.

see, it's been approximately three years since the blue lock project concluded, three years since yoichi and his friends have been signed to the team for the forseeable future. and three years in which he hasn't stopped trying to garner your attention. not even once.

he goes to fill up the team's water bottles with you, helps keep the team in line when the coaches are away, thanks you after every match won for your hard work and dedication.

the mutual attraction isn’t a question. the fleeting but also strangely lingering touches, and the murmured 'thank you's make sure of that. yet you can’t bring yourself to open up to him.

michael and alexis know. they know that deep down inside, you want something serious with somebody who can give you everything. and you’re just unsure - scared, even - if yoichi can do that for you.

but now it's nearing midnight on valentine's day, and you're holding on to someone as the whole team stumbles out of a local pub, completely inebriated. alexis is laughing and michael is laughing and you're laughing, drunk off your ass and feeling like you're on top of the world.

in a split second the pavement rushes up to meet your face, and you're pretty sure the person you're holding on to is being dragged down alongside you -

you fall to the ground, and it knocks the air out of your lungs. well, more accurately, you fall on top of someone, and the two of you are sprawled on the cold ground.

"m'sorry," you slur, trying to get to your feet. "lost my balance for a second there."

"no, it's fine, really!" yoichi squeaks, and you're nodding along, relieved.

wait - yoichi?

your vision is still spinning when you finally push yourself up onto your elbows, the heat of another body underneath you keeping you grounded. you blink down, disoriented, and there he is - yoichi isagi, wide-eyed and flushed, his hands hovering uncertainly over your waist like he's not sure whether to steady you or let you go.

"uh -" his voice cracks slightly before he clears his throat, his breath a little too warm in the cold night air. "are you okay?"

you let out a breathless half-laugh half-scoff, still trying to regain your balance. "yeah. more embarrassed than anything, honestly."

his lips quirk up into a crooked smile, soft and a little uncertain. "you, um… you really shouldn’t be embarrassed. i mean, considering the situation."

you tilt your head. "what situation?"

he hesitates for a moment, his hands finally settling at your waist, a firm but gentle presence. you hate yourself for liking it. then, as if spurred on by the alcohol or the moment or just sheer desperation, he blurts out, "you falling for me, obviously."

you stare.

then you groan, shoving at his chest. "that was genuinely so horrible."

"right?" he laughs, his grip tightening instinctively when you shift like you’re going to roll off him and onto the ground. "but, um -" his smile fades slightly, something nervous but determined taking its place. "since it’s still technically valentine’s day, and, you know, we’re already kind of on top of each other… would you want to go on a real date with me? sober. tomorrow."

your heart stutters.

it shouldn’t surprise you, not after three years of this - of him, of this unspoken thing lingering between you. and maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way his hands feel warm even through the fabric of your clothes, but for once, you don’t think too hard about it.

you just nod.

"yeah," you murmur, allowing yourself to smile. "i’d like that."

yoichi exhales like he's been holding his breath this entire time. his grin is wide and a little stupid, and before you can call him out on it, alexis and michael are dragging you both up with raucous laughter, half the team still stumbling around in the background.

but even as the night carries on, you can still feel the ghost of yoichi’s hands at your waist, the warmth of his body under yours, and the undeniable certainty that maybe - just maybe - this is something real.

bastard münchen’s manager is just a little older than yoichi. that’s what he finds out, at least, when he and the other blue lock players are first introduced to the german team.

there are three truths, noa tells them, that will hold true for as long as michael kaiser and alexis ness play for the team, and you keep managing it.

number one: michael kaiser is the core of the team. number two: wherever michael kaiser goes, alexis ness follows. and number three: the only person who kaiser and ness listen to is you.

you’re interesting, yoichi thinks. not exactly quiet, but not assuming either. the first time he speaks to you is at his first ever practice with the team. it’s not going well, not at all, because -

“micha and alex giving you a hard time?” you say bluntly. you’re speaking english now, not the german you speak with the coaches and regulars, but yoichi still finds himself depending on his translating earpiece to understand you.

“have they… have they always been like this?” he takes a sip from his bottle, immediately stepping to the side when he realises raichi and the others are waiting to receive their water bottles.

you eye him with what looks like mild interest, then look off to where kaiser and ness roughhouse on the field still.

“if you mean since they were fifteen, then yeah, they’ve always been like that.”

“you’ve known them a long time, then?”

“you could say that.”

you toss them each a towel, yelling something in german, and ness shouts something back. and isagi’s not really sure, but he thinks it sounds something like “love”.

“should i call you that too?” he jokes - or tries to, at least. his smile quickly fades as you shoot him a withering stare. “l-love, i mean-”

“not unless you wanna get trashed on the field later at practice.”

you turn on your heel and walk away, and yoichi isagi falls in love a little bit, just then.

#heh #happy vday #blue lock #bllk #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #bllk x reader #kai blurbs

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dumbblond3 · 2 days ago

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Caitlyn helping you suck Vi’s strap

Caitvi x reader

NSFW MINORS DNI

When you joked with Caitlyn about not knowing how to give a blowjob you never expected it would end you up in such a precarious position

“That’s it darling there you go-”

But here you are on your knees for Vi, Cait kneeling just behind you holding your body close helping encourage your movements up and down

“Fuck baby look so good taking my cock”

You glance up at Vi through watery lashes popping off of her strap with a huff trying to catch your breath

“Doing so well baby mm? Why don’t I give you a little reward,” Caitlyn whispers and you swear you clench at just the sound of her voice

It isn’t a second more before Cait’s mouth is on yours, her tongue sliding in easily, no doubt making things extra messy for Vi’s viewing pleasure

It must be working you think when you catch Vi stroking her strap to the sight as you let out little whines and pants while Cait makes you dizzy with her mouth

When she decides you’ve had enough Vi makes quick work of grabbing your hair using it as leverage to control your movements back on her cock

While embarrassing to admit the rough treatment is something you’re learning to love, the feeling of Vi’s strap deep in your throat turning you on beyond belief

Still your mind struggles to keep up with the pair while their words and glances are sweet their touch is anything but as they get off on your whimpers and gags

Vi’s hips start to jerk as Caitlyn reaches down to feel you through your soaked bottoms, at her touch you let out a strangled noise around Vi’s strap, both of them cooing at your struggle

“Fuck baby take it take it take it-“ Vi groans now fully thrusting into your mouth, chasing the pleasure of the harness rubbing against her oh so well

Your senses are overwhelmed with their touch, their smell, their taste so much so you can’t control the tears rolling down your cheeks

The two girls devouring you are quick to take notice and they can’t help but swoon at the pathetic little show you’re putting on

“Shh it’s ok love you look soo pretty for us” Caitlyn whispers starting to kiss and suck at your neck, you can hear the smirk in her voice as she croons but honestly you could care less

Vi’s hips start to lose control as she whines “fuck baby gonna make me cum- shit just like that” and as she pushes you to the hilt she’s cumming holding you close while Cait’s sweet nothings of praise fill your ears

When she finally lets up you feel sufficiently ruined and if the tenderness of their gaze is any indicator you must look that way too

Bringing her hand up to rub away at the spit glazing your lips Vi leans down giving your forehead a sweet kiss murmuring

“Our good girl”

AN- Not sure how I feel about this one but it's been sitting in my drafts for too long so oh well also I'm trying to get the hang of how I like to format things so ignore any weirdness! Hope you enjoyed ;)

#caitvi x reader #caitlyn x reader #vi x reader #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #violet arcane #caitlyn kiramman x reader

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mcflymemes · 2 days ago

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AS SAID BY ASTARION ANCUNÍN * assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

you are mine. no one can change that.

i wish... to drink. and be drunk.

you haven't earned the right to stare at me like that.

you could scream bloody murder out here and no one would ever know.

we should find a tavern and celebrate.

do my eyes deceive me? the gang really is all here.

i'd rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it's all the same to you.

you're cute, you know. in another life we might have been friends.

i don't hate you. because this is not you.

we just have to be vigilant. keep our wits about us.

you can try, but i will stop you.

do what you like. it's none of my concern.

i simply do not care.

we could do it, you know. we could rule the world.

i... i don't know what to say. thank you.

well that's just disgusting.

listen to me, damn it! i'm trying to save you, even if you're too stupid to see it.

believe what you want. i'm done with you.

you have no idea what i can do.

sounds like a delightful dinner plan. perhaps i'll join you.

forgiveness? you've never forgiven anything.

i don't need anyone to speak for me.

i don't owe you a damn thing.

don't worry. i'll keep watch tonight.

just don't ask me again.

is there anything else? any new and interesting ways you can waste my time?

i'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy.

this time i'll make sure i'm quiet.

you're lucky i'm such an open-minded person.

why send anyone after me? i'm hardly a threat out here.

what are you waiting for? help me!

"you can do whatever you want" sounds terrifying, and it is, but there's opportunity in it, too.

i am so much more than what you made me.

hold very, very still.

i'm sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?

get out of my way. i'm in no mood to talk.

you didn't think i could do it? i'm hurt.

i appreciate your loyalty, darling, but i don't think you understand.

fair? nothing about this is fair.

i don't know who they are, but i have plenty of questions.

i'm glad to hear it.

i do believe you. i know you only did what you thought was best for me.

i just need some time to let it sink in.

you're so good to me.

safe? how can i ever be safe now?

well, hello. looking for a cuddle?

now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk.

how flattering. and disturbing.

please tell me this is important.

there's also gold, sex, revenge... quite the list, really. but failing any of those, i will always settle for shallow praise.

now just tell me i'm beautiful and we can call it a day.

i want to thank you.

you're a vision. and you're so much more than that.

this is all a game to you, isn't it?

for as long as i can remember, i've been used by others.

of course i was attracted to you. look at you, for goodness' sake!

i will forever remember what you did for me today.

that's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? that's what you want?

i have been waiting so long for you.

come, give yourself to me.

i'll take care of everything.

it's time to try living again.

i feel safe with you. seen.

we don't have to rush into anything tonight.

would it kill you to dispense a compliment?

looking for something?

honestly, you have no sense of fun.

i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little.

would you like a tour? we can start with my tent, if you like.

everything was taken from me, too.

well, that could have gone better.

i don't know what you mean.

were you actually worried i was angry?

so what was it like? tell me everything.

i hope i'm not interrupting.

some day that soft heart of yours is going to be torn out of your chest.

what a party. we should do this again.

there you are. i've been waiting. waiting since the moment i set eyes on you. waiting to have you.

you've seen enough already.

i didn't want to lose control.

oh, don't be like that. not every problem has to be beaten to death, my dear.

wait! don't interrupt them!

let's not make trouble for some stranger.

my, this place is fun.

my past isn't exactly a happy story.

that was amazing.

it won't happen again. you have my word.

so many people need killing.

remember who saved you.

don't worry. i'm here.

158 notes · View notes

vampstarkey · 1 day ago

Text

◟sex with a gun

Masterlist 🪽

☆ warnings: gun play, neck tightness, daddy's kink, reader seems innocent but isn't, female masturbation, crying during sex, slaps on the thigh, thumb in the mouth, squirting, degradation, Rafe causes pain to the reader, mentions of somnophilia, Rafe calling the reader a "bunny" (I think that's all. I want to make it clear that it's all consensual, be warned)

☆ Note: honestly I was a little thoughtful before posting this fanfic theme, but I confess that I liked it, I ended up changing my writing style too, I hope you like it, bye.

You never thought Rafe would be able to use a gun on you, absolutely not, that idea was crazy and at no point had it crossed your mind to let him stick a gun inside your pussy, but you reconsidered that idea a little when he asked you for it, it was typical of Rafe to want things like that and you knew he would go crazy just to see you handed over to him as soon as you decided to accept, of course your boyfriend wouldn't force you to do anything that made you uncomfortable, but he kept insisting because he knew you well enough to know that deep down that idea made your panties soaked.

All you could think was that it was out of the question, after all they had never done anything like that before, a fear took over your thoughts, but it still seemed tempting, the danger was exciting, how could you simply say no to Rafe when he was right there with those eyes almost begging for a yes as an answer? You looked at the metallic gun on the table in the corner of the room while you closed your legs tightly. He found this situation funny and at the same time you could feel how his cock throbbed in your beach shorts just imagining bursting the walls of your tight pussy with the object in his hands.

— ☆ . .

Your body weight was completely thrown on the bed and your legs spread for the blonde. He stuck the gun in your wet pussy while he watched the scene of you writhing like a whore. Rafe stuck it so deep that you could feel the cold object touching your cervix. “Look how easily this goes inside you.” The contact of the gun with your pleasure point made a delicious wet noise to his ears. You gripped the white sheets tightly as you moaned in a daze. “Ray.. Please”

He smiled victoriously when he heard the desperation in your voice, with that scene before him, Rafe couldn’t control himself and squeezed his own cock over his shorts while his other hand quickly moved the metal object into your unit. “Is that what you want, huh? Ask daddy one more time like the good slut you are” The boy could feel himself sliding deeper and deeper into you.

“Yeaah, just like that, please don’t stop.” You said between moans that became louder and louder. You tried to keep your legs open for him, but you failed on impulse. Rafe was strong enough to grab your thighs, preventing you from closing them for him. “This is what you need. I make you feel so good, bunny.” Tears streamed down your face as you whimpered, feeling the sensation invade your insides. “My naughty girl is so needy. I’m going to need to make you cum really good.” The way he spoke and looked at you made you a little embarrassed, and honestly, he found it sweet and adorable in you.

Your pussy was dripping, smearing almost every weapon that came out and entered with agile movements inside. Without a doubt, Rafe would want to see you in this state once more, hundreds of times if possible. “Pretty girl.” Rafe brought his hands up to your neck, squeezing it tightly, still thrusting the object with greater force now. He could feel how hot your body was, reacting to everything he did. The excitement only increased as your boyfriend pounded deep, your eyes were crying as if they were begging for more.

“Crying like a little bitch, daddy is going to have to hurt you and I know you like it.” Rafe continued to choke you with skill, fascinated by every expression you made. In his eyes, you looked delicious like that. It was a perdition to see you with your mouth open, moaning and writhing like that without panties, just with a pair of white socks that went up to your knees.

You felt a present discomfort and it hurt a little the way he pushed the gun inside you, but as painful as it was, you were enjoying the pain and pleasure that mixed together. Your own fingers quickly ran to your clitoris, massaging it a little clumsily. “Does it hurt, bunny?” Rafe stared at your pussy as he bit his lip. “Yes, it hurts, daddy.” Your head bobbed in agreement, your legs began to shake too much, Rafe knew how close you were to cumming right now and he fucking loved it.

You were a seemingly shy and innocent girl to other people, but Rafe knew how naughty you became for him when he made you horny. It wasn't very difficult to turn you on. The living proof of this was the way you were, so wet, so surrendered, he was on the verge of collapse. "This pussy is mine, bunny." A hoarse growl left Rafe's lips. He had come in his own shorts just by seeing you contracting and pulsing against his gun.

Rafe's hand left your neck, then he brought his thumb into your mouth, making you suck it. The blond's thumb muffled your moans. You stared at him sucking on your finger while your cheeks flushed with lust and a slight shyness. Your own fingers stopped moving against your clit, grabbing Rafe's wrist with the hand he had stuck his thumb in your lips.

“Next time I want you to let me wake you up by fucking you right here.” Your moans were getting louder and louder in the room. Rafe turned the gun inside you, causing spasms and goosebumps to appear on your skin. “Ray..” Your eyes rolled back, you felt like you were going to explode, your liquid dripped down the metal of the gun and into Rafe’s hand. “What a hot pussy, you dirty bitch, I’m going to finish you off.”

Rafe took his thumb out of your mouth and slapped your inner thigh hard, squeezing and playing with the soft area. “But that’s not a problem for you, is it? After all, you like being treated like a dirty bitch.” Rafe couldn’t help but laugh at that naughty expression he had and that you knew very well.

“I like it, I like it a lot.” The slap made you jump slightly from the bed, the voice that came out of your lips was slurred, almost as if you were struggling to speak in the midst of that delicious situation. “Then cum, bunny, cum now..” Rafe said in a tone of authority that made you shiver, he was now going faster than usual, you were wetting his hand without any difficulty, you were almost there..

Your legs opened even more and to help you reach orgasm, Rafe massaged your clitoris quickly. He rubbed it with desire, you brought your hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, but he quickly removed it. “No, no, no, I want to hear you scream.” Your hips began to move desperately against the metal object inside your pussy.

Rafe finally felt your orgasm coming, quickly wetting everything. “Fuck, Rafe.” you screamed his name as you squirted, wetting the bed along with the gun that was still inside you. “Yeah, very good, girl.” The blond slowly removed the object from inside you, throwing it on the small table in the room as he approached your side, seeing you completely exhausted.

Drops of sweat ran down your forehead and he wiped them away, then tucked your hair behind your ear. “Are you very tired?” His hands caressed your head. “Yes, quite.” Seeing your state, Rafe pulled you by the waist and made you sit on his lap. “Tired enough that you can’t help me by getting on your knees for me?” You quickly understood what he meant by that. No matter how tired you were, you would help him relieve himself anyway, so there you were on your knees, waiting to suck your man’s cock while he stood in front of you.

124 notes · View notes

orchidyoonkook · 2 days ago

Text

KIKI!!!!!! I know I already screamed at you in DMs but holy shit dude!! I'm so spoiled in your love <<<33333. My coworkers literally looked at me like I was nuts because of how near manic my smile was reading this. I cannot believe you wrote all this about my babies. They love you so much too!!

can i just say how i am totally captivated by this fic once again just going back and reading everything again had me mesmerized by this plot line,

YOU REREAD IT???!!!! 😭😭😭😭♥♥♥ I love your love for them so much. You make me wanna keep writing every time I see your name in my inboxes with your delicious words. I eat them up in record time, every time.

The plot line was VERY plotted so I'm glad it's being given a moment to shine!!!!

seriously it is so good you guy have no idea, it's written to perfection that you are completely be drawn into the story, just like a movie it plays out in front of your eyes as you read the words i am not even joking it's literally the best part about it that you get drawn into the fic like that it's magical I tell you...

I try so hard to get the details and imagery. The movie thing is EXACTLY what I want to happen as you read so this particular feedback makes my heart just SIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGG.

Also I will cry at "it is so good you have no idea" because I'm trying so hard to write stories worth reading, ones you don't go "meh" afterwards. Like I want the folks who read them to be happy they spent their free time reading my stories, so I cannot stress enough how much hearing things like this motivates me, thrills me, and fills me with the most incredible happiness.

sorry for the babbling on

NEVER! No sorries, I live for the babble. I love to yap, babble, whichever, gimmie all of it no bars held.

but i can't fully express how much i love this fic and i can't not mention the prince and me because it just reminds me of it especially oc's personality and how she works so hard to achieve her goals i love it so much,

I LOVE THAT MOVIE

It was not any part of the inspiration for this fic tho! Funny enough, but now that you mention it, you're so totally right, (minus the initially douchey prince) but holy cow the similarities are kinda wild now that I'm thinking about it. I sweat it wasn't intentional XD

yoon your words, how you describe oc passion and jungkook's desires it's just beautiful you build the scenes so well and not only that the emotions, their thoughts it's like you are one with the character and this world you have build it sometimes brings me to tears to read the way your wrote their thoughts like in chapter 3 I literally had tears in my eyes...

emotions are so hard dude, especially as an AuDHD girly. So i again, try so hard to get them right. I just experience emotions differently than 'regular' folk, in a way that's hard to describe and feel, therefore, making emotions and desires hard for me to describe and write into my characters. So confirmations like this help me a lot to know that what I'm doing is working for the readers!!

(also not me and going back to reread chapter three so I could remember what you were hinting at there XD)

I was honestly blown away and that scene in the at the cafe when they are truly just themselves, i can't stop saying this but they way you write is pure gold and i hang on all of your words, the way oc and jungkook conversations just flow and holds so much meaningful moments like i can't describe it but it feels more like just a conversation for a story it just latches on to my heart and i feel like your words have so much meaning behind them, the placement of certain words, what they talk about it's like poetry if i am being honest i feel like there should be an analysis of each line or thought that they have that's the best way I can describe it...

The words do in fact have loads of meaning behind them, they are all also intentionally chosen and placed, so you nailed that to a T. But that being said, I did go back and reread this scene and I sae a good handful of mistakes (grammar and double uses of words close togehter). And thats what I get for editing chapters so quickly after writing them, I don't catch those XD.

It's so funny you mention poetry because you aren't the first person to compare my writing style to poetry, and that's funny to me because I don't like poetry 😂😂. Like at all. I could/can never get the meanings behind it like other people were abel to do (hello un/diagnosed AuDHD literal thinking brain)

An analysis would be so cool. Vi (violetsiren90) does that for me sometimes and she'll get meanings out of my words that I didn't even intend to have, but there she goes, everytime, making me out to be way better of a writer than I really am XD

jumping into ch. 5 can i just say i love oc's spirals about the jungkook dating news i don't wanna spoil it but gosh i love her trying to decipher why it's that girl, why out of the people in the world it's her

omg OC is just like me FRRRRR. I spiral think about everythhiinnngggg. and it's gotta be her for the plot, i dont make the rules except yes I do

i really enjoyed that and her subtle inclusion of herself in the comparisons hehehehe oc i see you, also i am with Yuri and oc on the hate train, oc's just hilarious in that conversation i love it..

I love seeing everyones reactions to Her, because obviously from a literary POV she's written in to be a villainous type of character, but from an I created this human being from my mind POV, I know why she is the way she is, and in the wise words of Ender Wiggin "I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves."

As for OC doing the subtle comparisons, I loved that because it makes her that much more human and real to me.

so the slow ass burn warning was very much needed hey wow no I still can't believe jk did a whole post with that girl and didn't tell oc, i somewhat get where his coming from but cmon how did he think she would react especially since their friendship is so strong and they clearly care about one another hehehe

slow burns are my fav and you can bet your ass it. is. slow. i make no apologies. I've had the plot plotted for three years now and I've loved the arc for just as long. I hope you will too

I think we as people, often forget that JK is a boy, and even though hes a nice boy with big responsibilites in this story with his title and all that, he is still, a boy. And boys arent the best at remembering to tell people stuff XD. also he like,, really didnt want to tell OC XDD

and jk's spiral after she confronts him ouch the slowest burn ever and the angst got me hooked,

😈😈😈😈😈 I love yearning so much, it really just makes a story that much more story centered.

i am absolutely looking forward to how things proceed between jk and this girl and oc's take on everything will she be able to focus on her time with nel

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S BEEN SO FUN TO WRITE THIS!!! The back and forth, the similarities, the differences, all of it between the two couples, oh it's so fun to compare and contrast them.

i'm pretty sure she's gonna have jk on the brain

no comment.

(also not sure if i mentioned it but I am sooooo not team this girl she's clearly soaking up all the influence jk brings and the complete opposite of what jk needs and she's oc's nemesis so not my vibe i can only imagine a scene where this girl just says the wrong thing in oc's presence and oc just flips and gives her a piece of her mind oooohh I hope that

i really wanna say something about this point specifically. but i CANT because it spoils something in a future currently unwritten, but very well documented plot wise, chapter. so just know that i wanna but cant.

(also the giggle /eye roll, which i totally blame on oc by the way, that i let out when i read this man was at a party making out with this girl, jk whatcha doing my guy??????)

excellent. As we can clearly tell from his tone in the chapter he was having an absolute BLAST (sarcasm). Very much: *through gritted teeth* "I love my job" of him.

lemme hop on into the next chapter and see jk's thought this man better explain himself 😉🤭🖤

EXCITEEEEEEEEMENTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!

okay!!! i have officially spent about two hours writing this reply now (between writing, and having to go back and reread stuff and then wiritnig and rereading) so i hope it's a good response! if you have anymore questions or talking points, you know where I am. And if it wasn't blatantly obvious: Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. for all the kind words and the theories and the thoughts. I cannot thank you enough for this. Thank you.

xo, Yoon

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week.

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures.

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August.

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again.

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night. And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning.

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation.

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on.

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on.

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead.

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go.

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY. SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN… SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth.

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say?

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her?

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t.

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her!

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type.

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it.

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again.

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history.

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself.

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it.

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything.

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores.

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate.

He chose Adaline Dupree.

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is.

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures.

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything.

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt.

You didn’t expect it to hurt.

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you.

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation.

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning.

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow.

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t.

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least? SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.”

“Thanks, me too.”

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook.

But is he just Jungkook anymore?

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else?

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles.

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her.

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried.

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great.

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do.

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes.

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses.

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth.

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried.

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago.

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally.

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together.

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship.

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence.

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted.

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created.

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now.

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world.

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty.

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task.

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes. “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point.

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone.

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him.

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her?

Oh.

Oh…

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline.

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why.

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another.

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far.

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was.

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship.

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures.

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand.

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts.

He wants real.

He wants authentic.

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead.

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet.

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him.

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too?

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy.

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue.

Don’t say shit Y/N.

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same.

At. All.

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.”

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.”

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King.

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her.

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice.

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive.

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever.

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front.

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him.

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel.

And not him.

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend.

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t.

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else.

For the person who has a boyfriend.

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you.

Because it’s you.

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him?

For being happy with who makes you happy?

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart.

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official.

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to.

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is.

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck.

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far.

More, then.

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

#I'll respond to the others tomorrow and friday!!#I unfortunately have adult tasks like laundry and dishes and dinner making that take up way too much valuabe tumblr responding time #being a grown up sucks dude #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH #you're a big part of why the fic community stays alive #reviews #TWWWBAATTA reviews #Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations #moonchild1 #kiki my love <3 #the kindest of souls #if you see typos no you dont

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lara4eclipze · 3 days ago

Text

›› tan lines and good times

sypnosis -»what was supposed to be a vacation turns into meeting possibly the prettiest girl you've seen in your life

beware -»fluff , small smut scene , kissing , confessing, swearing, pining , mutual liking

talks-» hihi , finally had time to write a long fic!! , I missed writing things like this , hope you like it!! mwaa — released this early for @sixflame438

taglist (open); @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

to be fair you agreed to this — your friends had planned out going to the beach for months and it's finally the day , what you failed to tell them was that you were gonna have to leave earlier due to some complication with your schedule

now trapped inside a van with cruel summer playing in full blast and your friends singing at the top of their lungs

"it's a cruel summer with you" marquise sings along with the speaker as she drives , lexie was busy feeding ezrela some chips and karlee was sleeping

you plug in some earphones and close your eyes , taking in the view outside the vehicle

"are we near yet?" ezrela says as she munches on the chips previously fed to her by lexie

"yep , just wait a bit more" marquise replies steering the wheel

the place was gorgeous , airbnb karlee booked was spacious and had the view of the beach — you got the smallest room since you didn't want to sleep with anyone else

"y/n! let's go!" you hear ezerela call for you , you finish tying up the strings of your swimsuit before wearing a skirt to cover your lower half

"soo what do we think?" you said as you ascend from the stairs , showing your actually not so bad fit

"hot"

"stunning!"

"okay let's stop stalling and get to the beach then!" marquise pipes up , you all walk towards the beach , helping each other apply a good amount of sunscreen

the waves were amazing , the sun wasn't too hot and the place wasn't so crowded — it was truly a gust of cool wind — well obviously you still had work to worry about but that's a problem for tomorrow for now you wanna soak up the sun and get a beautiful tan

"I'm kinda thirsty — I'll buy us a drink , what do you guys want?" you ask the rest of the girls — well actually only karlee and lexie since the rest was already splashing around in the water

"pineapple juice will be good" lexie replies "make it two for me and ezrela" she follows , "ill have strawberry shake and I think emily and marquise will like a fruit punch each" karlee says before you walk to the nearest store

god help me right now — the seller? or maybe owner? honestly it didn't matter she was gorgeous — her long black hair fell perfectly over her shoulders and her face seemed like the best artists in the world sculpted it

"hello?—just those?" she asks before you stop staring at her , "oh uh- yeah just that" you replied cheeks heating up in embarrassment — okay now's the perfect time to channel your inner confidence and ask for her name

maybe not? — wait stop doubting yourself, but at the same time it's not like you'll be staying here for a long time might as well take the risk

you read her name tag , lara , what a beautiful name for someone equally as beautiful

"i love your swimsuit by the way" lara mumbles as she types in your order — your heart was beating out of your chest, you felt flustered to say the least

"thank you , i love your fit too" you replied shyly

you stand to the side as she hands you the receipt and drinks, as you walk away from the store you feel her eyes glued on you — you check the receipt and you saw a small smiley face and phone number scribbled at the bottom

you looked like a child geeking out that she gave you her phone number – as you sat next to your friends they had this suspicious and doubting look on their face

silently telling you to spill what happened, "fine...there was this girl in the store and she was so beautiful, her voice was like honey dripping, her skin glowed and her hair was flowy" on and on you rambled about how perfect lara was

"okay chill out, just give the rest their drinks, besides we need to go back it's getting late" karlee says

in unison all of you nodded before walking back to the airbnb , you were lost in your thoughts thinking about how you could've just bagged the prettiest woman ever

the gorgeous skies were painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun set within the horizon — your mind clear from any thoughts other than relaxing and maybe ms. pretty girl

you lay in bed rethinking the whole encounter — it felt like it was a scene in a very cheesy rom-com, but seeing as how you have been so affected by those simple actions she took maybe it was more than being flustered

your body turns to the side sighing out of frustration, first is why the hell are you catching feelings and why are you suddenly so head over heels for the girl you barely knew

the sun has barely risen when you wake up, the rest of the girls were still asleep — the breeze was fresh and cold yet the skies were this darkish blue

you decided to take a morning jog, to shake off the drowsy state you were in and maybe when you come back the rest wouldve been awake

you lace your shoes and adjust the straps of your tank top to the perfect length before opening the door leading outside of the airbnb — you plug in your earphones and started the jog easily

you passed by a couple of houses and establishments, but most were still closed due to the early hour, you admired how peaceful the place was compared to the city, how clean and quiet it is

you passed by lara's store — it was surprisingly open, offering some breakfast options, you read the sign hung up on the window — the smell of bacons and eggs lured you into going in — tottaly not your girl crush

"hello goodmorning, what can i get you started on?" lara asks as you take a seat on the bar right infront of her, she looks up and immediately recognized you, "hey pretty girl, what brings you back here — in this early hour even" lara joke

"it smelled heavenly in here — and because i was on a morning jog" you replied casually "I'd like some bacon and cheese sandwich and what drink is good?"

lara thinks a bit before writing on the paper she had on hand, "i think you'll like what ever ill serve" lara winks before walking to the kitchen and handing in your order

the desi girl walks to you and sits next to your chair, tying up her hair with some loose strands framing her face — "you haven't texted me yet?, what nervouse?" lara teases

"i got busy what can i say?" you replied — sort of staring at her face, she was perfect literally her eyes was one like a fox or tigers they were sharp yet gave a clear window into her emotions

"take a picture it'll last longer" lara says, grabbing your phone and taking a selfie, "now you have a souvenir, y/n's beach experience featuring lara" lara giggles

"best souvenir, if i do say so myself" you replied, smiling at the now wallpaper of your phone

the conversation flowed freely before you even knew it, it was already 7 am — crowds of people were starting to line up for food outside the store

"hey i wouldn't want to keep you from working' thanks for the food, see you later?" you said to lara — "see you" she softly responds as she helps the customers in, you left a hefty tip and a cute doodle on the check

you breathe out as you sit on the sofa at your airbnb, small beads of sweat dripping from your forehead to your neck — you smile remembering the stupid topics you and lara shared opinions about, you had way more in common than you think

"soo where have you been" lexie asks as she walks and sits near you — it was obvious she had just woken up aswell, "morning jog, and some breakfast" you replied — "at the girl you told us yesterday?" lexie says casting you a side eye

"maybee~" you replied a hint of mischief in your voice — "you're like the gayest girl i know" lexie jokes making you laugh

"hey can you really blame me, she's so beautiful and we have so many things a like" you rant on and on to lexie

well till you looked over, to lexie now sleeping her hoodie hiding her obviously closed eyes, "wow okay supportive queen" you scoff in faux disappointment

later that day you decided to finally text lara's number that she had given you the day before — adding the nickname "lara (maybe my wife)"

y/n: hi lara!, its y/n how are you — are you working rn?? ^^

it took a few minutes before lara responded, in which you pondered whether you should've even texted her

[lara (maybe my wife)] has texted you!

your phone dings in notification, you then opened the text delighted to see laras response

lara (maybe my wife): not really luv, its slow on days like this — earlier there was an morning rush though

y/n: i was wondering maybe later by 11 pm maybe you'd like if we went for a swim and after i treat you to lunch?

lara (maybe my wife): cute way to say you want to have a date — okay then, wear something like you wore yesterday that swimsuit really suited you ;)

you giggle, flustered by her response — fuck butterflies there was a whole zoo in your tummy by this point

y/n: confident, i like that — see you later lara!

you stare at your neatly placed clothing options on the bed — ezrela also looking at the clothes with a critical hint in her eyes, "this white one or this pink one" you hold up the bikini tops matched with a flowy skirt each

"the pink one def'" ezrela pipes up, you wore it, applying light make up on your face a fresh pinkish blush and glitters on your eyelids

"all good, see you guys later" you bid farewell to the group taking a stroll to laras shop — seeing her already dressed in a purple bikini top and a white long skirt, golden jewelries accentuating her wrist and waist line

"hey!" you greet lara as she smiles warmly embracing you, her tropical yet smooth perfume invading your senses

"so let's go? by the way, I love your fit it's so cute" you compliment as you two start walking along the beach — the waves adding a calming sound

"so what brings you here," lara asks, as she pushes back some stray hairs on her face

"a group vacation, me and friends planned this long ago, and we just now get to actually do it" you replied, laying a blanket on the sand to provide you two a comfy place to sit

lara nods along with you, as she hands you a soda, "i know its hot drink some" lara laughs lightheartedly

lara lays down as the sun casts a soft glow on her skin, you admire the woman, admire her confidence that practically oozed out of her being, her passion for the place and everything that makes her lara

"i would love to live here" you mumble staring at the ocean, its blue waves and the people that swam care free in it — "really?" the girl asks

"yeah, it's so calm — not that it matters but all I ever knew was the city, being drowned in work, my breaks were day dreaming about a better life" you replied

"why not move here then, i can help you — i know some people who would gladly help you find a cheap place to rent or buy" lara responds, she sounded genuine

"i can't, work is so frustrating" you grunt, lara sits up and places her hand atop of yours

"how about don't worry about that right now okay? — enjoy the peace you get from here, with me okay?" lara gently reminds you, making your worries fade

"thanks," you hum

lara splashes around in the water, her laughs a balm to your heart — she splashes some on you making you scream as you two chase each other on the shallow end of the water

"come back!" you run after lara toppling over her on the sand, with a soft grunt,

"ouch! — no cheating!" lara says as she tickles you to get you off her

hours passed like seconds, by the time it was 2pm you two mutually agreed to eat at your airbnb — "my friends are there though i hope you dont mind" you say to the woman

"i don't, let's go," lara says hooking her arms with yours, sand rubbing against both your skin

at the airbnb you offer her some clothes and a shower, karlee occasionally spying on you two — and marquise not so subtly taking pictures you know for "keeps sake"

lara looked gorgeous in your shirt, a small part of you swelled with love as she smelled like you because of the shirt, you cook some gyozas and tonkatsu which you two happily shared over some cheesy rom-com

lara soon lays her head on your lap, staring up at you, you pretend not to notice but the beat of your heart says something else — her hands were intertwined with yours

you tried to act like the movie was suddenly so interesting when honestly it wasn't — lara sits beside you suddenly her soft hands placed on your cheeks

"can i?" lara asks, her voice vulnerable as she searched for approval in your eyes, "yes, please" you replied making lara smile and connect both your lips together, her hands drifting to your nape as she deepens the connection

lara moves to your lap, smiling as she continued kissing you only pulling away when you two needed air

"i love you, so much" lara mumbles as your hands wrap around her waist pulling her flush against yours

"i do too, isnt this funny though? we met like a day ago" lara laughs, "what can i say huh, we just clicked" you replied with a little boost of ego

"shut up" lara slaps your shoulders as she blushed

time flew by and suddenly it was night time stars decorated the skies as people slowly drained from the beach

"i think I'll stay the night here" lara mumbles as you two hug laying down, "ill like that" you murmur back placing a quick peck to her head

soon the desi girl was asleep her head buried in your chest, you sigh wondering how did you even bag someone in the span of two days not to mention the woman was perfect

you might just have to move here, "woo!" karlee silently cheers you, as the rest of the girls teased you

you flip them off, laughing at their antics, eventually succumbing to sleep as well, i guesd the sofa was comfier with lara hugging you

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