#The Day when all the Miracle becomes Reality | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

Text

Past Astarion Meets His Future

This is a weird ass idea, but I'm doing it anyway. Some time travel fuckery. But the gist is: What if Astarion, decades before the Mind-flayers captured him, was on his last leg? Just on the verge of doing, what was at the time, his only way out. But what if something a little unworldly stopped him?

TW: Suicidal thoughts. M/F, me phoning it in with the dnd lore, Cazador is evil. Like, torture, physically and mentally, manipulation, literal horror shit. He's here so bad things happen to randos and our poor guy. I'm also using this as the backstory again for why Astarion can be in the sun in the future because it's so god damned convenient for drabbles.

Astarion watched the crowded bar with focused eyes, a feigned, relaxed smirk on his lips. But even with the acting, he could feel the smile on his face start to tremble, a tell-tale sign that he was truly on his last leg. It had been a long, horrible night, one that had no end in sight. Cazador was in rare form, demanding multiple warm bodies in the span of less than five hours. Astarion wasn't sure what had angered him this time, but he was taking it on the victims in a particularly savage way.

Twice already he had forced Astarion to stay in the room with the poor souls he'd brought back. And then Cazador... made him watch what he did to them. The monster truly had a knack for keeping them alive until the last possible moment. Beating them, assaulting them, laughing at their cries for help. He drank from them last, feasting on their blood until they were just on the edge of death before tossing to them ground. Then Astarion was dismissed with the order to find another.

He hated it. It was the worst part of his nights by far, not including when he was the one being tortured in their place. It didn't help that he always looked at their faces, full of terror and betrayal.

Why did he always have to look? It was a question he knew the answer to. It was because he did that to them. Perhaps not literally, but what was the difference? Astarion had led them straight into his hands.

That was all he did. His entire existence had been reduced to this. A slave, a rat, scuttling through the streets, only capable of inflicting the same torment on strangers. It was a hell that no one should experience, and one that Astarion had been in for nearly 130 years.

How could he continue like this? What was the point? He'd spent so long living on pure survival instinct, waiting for the impossible day where luck would be on his side. Where Cazador would kill the wrong stranger, where the possibility of his murder could become a reality. It was delusional, a poor excuse to continue clinging to this farce of a life.

But there was another option. There always had been. All he needs to do is wander off and wait for the sun to rise, and everything could finally be over. It's far from the first time he's thought about it. But Astarion is nothing but a coward. He'd seen the pure pain and misery of a death of that nature, your insides boiling from within as your skin turned to dust. It was horrifying, one of the worst ways someone could go. And yet... it was starting to seem like the only reasonable option he had left.

Maybe... maybe today would be the day, the first time he'd seen the sun in decades. And the last time he'd ever take a breath.

"Are you alone?" A voice asked, followed by a gentle touch to his arm.

Astarion turned, that same shallow smile instantly reappearing on his face. It was a man, one that was handsome enough for Astarion to probably not feel completely sick during the deed. Then again... he could always ignore them and go back to his final plan.

Or he could wait it out one more day, and pray for a miracle. Astarion nodded towards him, still slightly torn but willing to at least try. It's not like he could go home empty handed if things turned out that way.

"Come to my room?"

Well this was certainly easy. Astarion didn't even have to take the energy to bite out a subpar pick up line. He just followed the man to his room, a plan forming in his head on how he could convince him back to the manor. Not to mention his own escape if he turned out to have less than savory intentions.

The stranger shut the door behind him, sitting on the side of his bed with his hands folded in his lap, his eyes staring straight ahead. Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his own. Great. A weirdo. What a lovely way to end the night, spending it seducing a complete freak. But Astarion had dealt with worse. He perched next to him, crossing his legs as he waited to see where this would go.

"I can see it," He finally said, his voice gravelly as he turned to stare at Astarion.

Astarion raised his brow, wondering for the first time if this particular prey had been partaking in some mind altering substances, "And what exactly are you seeing?"

"You."

Suddenly, the man was wrapping a tight hand around Astarion's wrist, his eyes shining with an unnatural green light, "You're close to the edge. Too close. My lord needs you breathing."

Astarion froze, equally parts horrified and confused at what he was alluding to. How on earth did he know his thoughts? What lord? Or the more likely reality; How wasted could one person be?

Astarion tried to pull back, frowning when he realized the grip on his wrist was iron-clad. He could feel a bit of panic start to swell inside him as he struggled, his voice rising, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let go of me-"

"You must live," He said, the color of his eyes only getting brighter and brighter, near twin flames in the darkness of the room, "There is no other way. Kelemvor has work for you yet."

His confusion was quickly evaporating into rage. He didn't know what this thing wanted from him, nor why the god of death would have any interest in his life. But how dare he insist on Astarion's pathetic existence having meaning. He knew nothing.

His mask was slipping, his righteous anger spilling forth, "Let go. Before I rip your fucking arm off."

But he made no moves to back down. Instead he started to chant, an incantation that had Astarion officially panicking. Whatever magic he was using, it was powerful. Reality was shifting right beneath Astarion's feet, morphing into something different. The next thing he knew they were somewhere else entirely, his reality melting into something new right before his eyes.

The entire thing was so shocking that Astarion didn't even realize he was seeing sunlight. Without a single pain. He frantically looked around, the insane stranger's grip finally loosening as he twisted away. They were on a couch, in the middle of what looked like a brightly lit townhouse, voices spilling out of the other room.

Astarion stood quickly, a hiss escaping him, "Where in the hells are we?"

"Nowhere," The man said cryptically, his eyes still aflame, "Neither the present of the future. We are in nothing but a glimpse, taken and made for you."

That did nothing to answer his question. But it did make his mind go into more reasonable directions. This had to be an illusion, there was no other explanation for why he wasn't being burned alive. But an illusion of what? And for what purpose?

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose, at a complete loss at what to do. He could try and kill him and pray that that would break the spell. But there was also the chance that he wouldn't live through an altercation with someone who could warp his senses so easily. Or perhaps this whole thing was a nightmare, a horrifying dream he'd cooked up after a night in the torture chamber.

Still at a loss, he settled on asking another question, "Then what is this a glimpse of?"

"Home," The man said simply before slipping off the couch. The cryptic bastard.

He started walking towards the next room towards the unknown voices; Astarion feeling helpless but to follow.

He lingered at the entryway, his eyes widening at the sight of a woman standing there, cooing at a teary-eyed child she had on her hip. They were right in her line of sight, but she had no reaction to their presence, instead calling out into the other room, "Did you find it yet?"

Another voice called back, oddly familiar as it groaned, "If I had, would I still be on my hands and knees here?"

Astarion stepped forward, more than ready to see if he could enlist the help of strangers for his predicament.

"They can not perceive us," The stranger said, interrupting the call for help that was on the tip of Astarion's tongue, "They are not real. Merely copies of what is, what will be."

"Lovely," Astarion growled out, his fingers itching to fight back against this demon of a man, "Now what in the gods' names does this have to do with me?"

"Watch and you will see," He said, his eyes blazing straight ahead, "The Lord of Death works in mysterious ways."

Astarion's theory of this being a torture-induced dream was becoming more and more believable. He didn't even bother questioning it, not when one more inane answer would send him into a tailspin. Instead he stared ahead, waiting for the moment he would wake up.

The baby was still squirming. Annoying whining sounds spilling from its lips, nearly on the edge of crying. But the woman still had a bright smile on her face, calling back "I told you we should have looked for it last night!"

"Well when she threw it across the room I assumed that meant it had fallen out of favor!" That same familiar voice yelled back, followed by an excited ah-ha! sound.

"Isabella's gonna have a fit, isn't she?" The woman sing-songed, bouncing the child on her hip, "I guess Mommy's going to have to let you start sucking on Daddy's hair again, huh?"

"I heard that!" The muffled voice called back, getting clearer and clearer by the moment. And then another man was walking into the room, grinning ear to ear as he held up a pacifier, "And I will not be forgetting it darling. Don't come crying to me the next time she's gnawing on your nose."

He leaned over to kiss the woman on the cheek before popping the pacifier in the girl's mouth, laughing when it instantly made her calm down. He was tall and pale, an elf with piercing red eyes and pure white hair.

No. It couldn't be-

"There. All better," The man sighed, his voice crystal clear in the calmness of the room, "She has quite the arm for a toddler."

It was a voice that Astarion knew, better than anyone else. It was his own.

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as his other self lifted the baby up in his arms, laughing as the child squealed around the pacifier, "She sure is cute for someone who can be such a brat. She takes after her mother doesn't she?"

The woman rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. Almost like she couldn't help but do anything else as she watched the duo, "Brave words for someone of your nature. Not to mention how she's your twin."

"Nonsense. She looks just like you, we should have named her Tav Jr," Other Astarion playfully argued, taking his other arm to wrap around the woman's shoulders, "I'm only responsible for the corpse-like complexion."

Astarion stared at them, in complete shock. He didn't-why would anyone or anything want to show him this? It didn't make sense. How would it be possible for him to be in the sunlight? Let alone to have a family. Astarion knew that this had to be a lie, there was no other explanation.

But that didn't stop his heart from aching from being forced to witness it. He was too shell-shocked to speak as he followed the duo to the other room, listening as his other self set the child in a crib, still cooing at her, "Auntie Karlach is coming over and you'll need your rest. How else will you be annoying together?"

"Astarion!"

He watched himself laugh as he pulled back, kissing her little forehead before murmuring, "Mommy only says my name like that when she has no comeback, isn't that right princess?"

"You're going to regret telling her everything when she can start talking," The woman, Tav, piped up from next to him, "I hope you realize she'll tell me all of your secrets."

Astarion rolled his eyes before pulling her against him, pressing a sweet and lingering kiss to her lips, "What secrets do I have that you don't know? Please, enlighten me."

What kind of cruel joke was this? Astarion, the real Astarion, had seen enough. He turned to the bastard that had sent him here, growling through gritted teeth, "Why are you doing this to me? Have I not suffered through enough?"

The man offered nothing of value, "We offer you what could be, if you can survive. No more, no less."

No. No, no, no. He wouldn't believe him. He refused to. There was no future for him. There couldn't be. I-It wasn't possible. Not with Cazador looming, not when he couldn't walk in the sun without being burned alive. And especially not when he couldn't even fathom letting himself care form someone enough to have a family with.

But that's what was in front of him. He turned back, his morbid curiosity getting the better of him. Just in time to see the couple standing there, holding each other while they made out like teenagers.

"I love you," His other self sighed happily, the words free and unbidden from his own lips between kisses, "More than anything my sweet."

"With one exception?" Tav asked, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Astarion laughed, nodding towards the crib with a knowing grin, "With one exception."

Astarion stared at them, a horrifying feeling starting to grow in his chest.

Hope.

It's the greatest betrayal he could give himself, an eternity's sentence to his own personal hell on the delusional belief that something better would come. He couldn't give in to it. He wouldn't.

But the question still escapes his lips, "How long?"

"Seventy years until you meet," The stranger said, "You must live to see it. Five more until you're here."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as the alternate reality started to fade, the stranger's eyes becoming more dull and human-like by the moment. He stared until the last possible moment, trying to commit it all to memory.

But it was difficult. Like thoughts he couldn't quite grasp, slipping through his fingers. Something wasn't right.

"Will I remember this?" He asked, even though he was already on the edge of forgetting.

"No," The man said simply. They were back in the room, sitting on the bed as though nothing had happened, "But you'll remember the hope."

It was the equivalent of a curse, one that Astarion could barely fathom as magic twisted his memories. But he could feel it there, festering in his heart. The yearning for a new life, stronger than ever.

Astarion left Shar's Caress that night feeling dazed and confused. He barely managed to drag a wasted loner back to the manor with him, preying on him in the back aisles. It was startling to think that he'd almost forgotten his original mission considering the consequences. But whatever happened had... done something to him. Something that he couldn't quite name.

But he didn't see the sun that day. Or the next. Or the day after that. Instead he continued to struggle, to suffer at the hands of his sadistic sire with no end in sight. Not until years and years later, when the worst and best thing to ever happen to him occurred. He was kidnapped by mind flayers, but gifted with a disgusting parasite that allowed him to live in the sun.

It wasn't ideal but it was better than being under Cazador's thumb. Not to mention how he found companions relatively quickly. It had been pure luck that you stumbled upon him, even luckier still that you were the type to forgive a man for having a knife to your throat.

He was happy to accompany you. He was happy to do whatever it took to increase his chances of survival, frankly. It helped that he felt... strangely drawn to you. You looked oddly familiar. He didn't know how else to describe it, but it was almost as though he'd met someone from a past life.

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #what kind of christmas carol fuckery is this?#I'm having a kids moment #but hey isn't writing where you can explore the things you don't know if you want or not yet #heavy leaning towards not because my ass isn't locking down an astarion man #time travel?#what is this #idk #practice writing dont judge me #queue

679 notes · View notes

ashprince-of-bel-air · 4 months ago

Text

Touch Starved Rolan

A/N: I was on holiday and now i have written it! I dedicate this to @scandistar and @sasha199 who commented on my drunk ramblings of a touch starved Rolan!

18+ and very much smut.

Part 2

You had caught Rolan masturbating in his tower previously, his deep voice echoed through the door to his office as you listened, feeling flustered as you heard him call your name. You did not mean to listen the first time that you heard him, it was by accident as you were bringing him his supper for the night. Each night after was definitely on purpose, your thighs wet, clenching them together as you could hear his muffled moans through the heavy door, hearing him grunt as he finished. You would have given anything to be the one causing those noises to spill from his lips.

Days pass and each one was torture for you, you did not know how to broach the subject with him, do you walk in mid-session and offer to help him or do you try and flirt with him the proper way? In the end it did not matter, you encountered him in the small stock cupboard in the back of the store by accident, you were there to count the potion vials when you saw him in the corner counting the scrolls. You took the opportunity to count the vials next to him, your bodies brushing against each other.

Rolan’s voice caught in his throat as he felt your soft skin brush against his, in what he thought was an innocent gesture. “Oh… Y/N, I did not know you were going to be in here?” Rolan looked down at you, his eyes landing on your cleavage, why did you have to wear such a low cut dress, is what he thought to himself, groaning internally as he felt his briefs tighten. His eyes were transfixed, he could not think of anything other than his hands and lips around your breasts in this moment, imagining the ways he could touch and kiss you, his mouth around your nipples, kissing you with reverence. He was thankful that his skin was crimson already otherwise a blush would have spread throughout his face.

“Oh no I’m just doing a stock count” Your voice innocent and cheerful, pretending to not know what you are doing as you press your body closer to his slightly, writing down numbers of the vials to make it seem like you are doing your job, when in reality you were taking this chance to rile him up. “Can you excuse me a moment?” You had asked and shuffled your body in front of his, pressing against him, not even waiting for his response.

Rolan could feel your arse pressing against his cock and it made him groan, his hands gripping the fabric of his robes making his knuckles go numb from the force, He had wanted you for a while and to feel you against him was torture, he could feel himself getting hard against the curve of your ass, praying by some miracle that you would not notice somehow.

You turned to face Rolan, smirk on your face, knowing what affect you had on him in this moment. The closeness between you two was enough to make you blush, your bravado escaping you as you were almost chest to chest, feeling his length against your thigh. You gasped his name involuntarily as you finally felt his hands on your waist, his self-control had broken, that was all it took before you felt his lips against your neck. Rolan devoured your skin, kissing and biting it with his sharp teeth, eliciting a delicious moan each time his sharp canines nipped your skin, leaving his beautiful marks all over your neck and collar bone, you moaned even more imagining how they looked on your delicate skin. His hands roamed your body at long last and you craned your neck to let him claim you further, desperately wanting to be his.

As Rolan’s mouth explored your skin, your hand found his thick length beneath his robes, you groaned as you felt the size of it, desperate to feel it stretch you. Your touch was gentle at first, becoming rougher on him as he riled you up, desperate to feel him. It did not take long to feel him tremble against your hand and his eyes tear up against the soft skin of your neck, his load spilling into his briefs, whispering sweet apologies against your skin. You chuckled softly and kissed the top of his head, flattered that you got this reaction by rubbing him through his robes. You bent down and removed his briefs, kissing the tip of his cock gently, not wanting to overstimulate him, as you cleaned him up with your mouth, wanting to taste every inch of him

“Rolan, this is just the first of many times” you teased playfully, on your knees looking up at him through your thick eyelashes.. Rolan moaned softly at your touch and at how good you looked knelt before him, his thick fingers found the crook of your chin and slowly lifted you up, tilting you chin so you could look him in the eye. A devilish smirk crossed his face as a free hand found your clit through your clothes, moving in a slow languid pace, causing you to moan desperately against the torturous pace. You could feel Rolan lean towards you as he touched you, his breath hot against your ear. “It’s rude to tease sweetheart” Groaning deeply as you felt his teeth against your earlobe, almost begging for release, even though you knew he would drag this out as long as he could.

#rolan bg3 #rolan empire #rolan x reader #rolan #bg3 rolan #i am not well versed in smut so i hope its okay #rolan smut

138 notes · View notes

sunraies · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a one shot where rafe and y/n are a couple and y/n gets hurt or something and rafe becomes super protective over her?

Sure thing! I tried, I hope this is ok x

Freak Accident

Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings - Fluff, angst. Hospital, mentions of injuries. No use of Y/N

When Rafe gets the call that you are in the hospital, his heart drops to his stomach

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Rafe's heart dropped to his stomach when he received the call from Sarah that you were in the hospital.

At first, he thought it was a joke, some sick prank to get him annoyed. But when the reality of her voice sunk in, he had never driven a golf cart faster in his life, and he was pretty sure he broke the speed limit the whole way in Topper's Jeep.

He had been golfing at the club with Topper while you spent the day with Sarah. You wanted to learn to surf, and as much as he hated the idea, he knew he couldn't stop you. Once your mind was set on something, there was no stopping you.

Sarah had promised you would be safe. Kie and the other pogues would be there, all experienced surfers.

Once, he made sure you were ok. He was certain he was going to kill them all.

"Rafe!" Topper called out as he fumbled to catch the keys after Rafe dumped the jeep outside the hospital, leaving the engine running as he hurried inside. It was a miracle he was thinking straight enough to put the car in park.

He quickly found the front desk and asked where you were after cutting in front of a elderly woman. He ran for the elevators, mashing the botton, and when they took too long, he cursed before running up the stairs.

Sarah stood in the hall outside your room, wrapped in John B's arms when he finally made it.

"What the fuck, happened?" He breathed out, cheeks red.

"She's fine, dude," JJ spoke up after they all looked at each other. He sat with Kie, relaxing in the hard plastic chair and arm over her shoulders.

"I wasn't fucking talking to you" Rafe spat, pointing at him while still staring at Sarah.

"There was a huge wave, and she hit the rocks," Sarah said quietly. "But she's ok"

"How the fuck is she ok? She's in the hospital and it's your fault!" He snapped, running a hand through his hair.

"Whoa, it's no one's fault," John B stepped in front of Sarah. "It was a freak accident, man,"

Rafe nodded a little too frantically before scoffing and lunging for John B. "I'll show you a freak accident, man."

"Hey, Rafe. Not here." Topper held him back, having stepped out the elevator and found the scene before him.

They struggled for a moment before Topper snapped him out of it. "Go see your girl," He said softly, holding his shoulders as Rafe nodded slowly.

"He can't. The nurse is in with her, " Kie said quietly. "They said family only."

Rafe shook his head and closed his eyes. "Nah, fuck that" He broke away from Topper's hold before barging into your hospital room.

You jumped a little as the door flew open while the nurse was taking your blood pressure. You were sure it suddenly spiked as your very flustered boyfriend stood in the doorway.

His ocean eyes scanning over you, focusing on the bruise on your cheek, to the cast on your left arm and down to the cut on your right leg.

"Hi, gorgeous." You smiled gently at him, hoping he would calm down at the sound of your voice.

The nurse looked between the pair of you as Rafe breathed out a small 'Hi'. His eyes were still checking your injuries.

"Your boyfriend?" She asked. "You know it's really only meant to be family allowed"

"Husband," Rafe blurted out. "I'm her, husband. No way am I leaving now. "

Your eyes went wide as the nurse shook her head before smiling knowingly, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. It wasn't on the charts."

She obviously knew Rafe was lying but humoured it. She was very sweet. "Take a seat, I'm just finishing obs, and our girl here should be good to go."

Rafe didn't need to be told twice as he took a seat beside the bed, desperately wanting to hold you, but let the nurse finish.

"I'm a little worried about the concussion, but other than that. You should be fine for discharge." She smiled. "I'm sure with this guy around, I don't have to worry about someone to look after you once you go home"

"Damn right, she's not leaving my sight." He was deathly serious even though the nurse laughed at the charm to his tone.

"Alrighty then. I'll go get the papers." She left, leaving you and Rafe in silence while you could hear Sarah and the others asking about you.

"Come here, baby." You held out your uninjured hand to him, which he took quickly but carefully. He seemed nervous to touch you, like you would break.

"You scared the shit out of me," He sighed, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

"I know. I'm sorry." You sighed, hating the idea of him being so worried as you knew you'd be the same if the roles were reversed.

He sat down beside you, and you pulled him into your arms, ignoring the pain into your side as he held his weight off you. You ran your hand through his hair. "I'm ok, I'm just a little bruised"

He scoffed and pulled away, "and broken. You broke your arm, baby"

You hummed. "Oh yeah, would you look at that?" You were sarcastic as you looked down at your cast arm. "I wondered why it was heavy"

He rolled his eyes and smiled, aleast you were well enough to still be yourself. He chose that moment to gently cup your cheek. He was careful of the bruise as he kissed you.

You melted into him, thankful Sarah had called him. He was the best pain relief.

"I meant it, I'm not letting you out of my sight," He whispered against your lips.

"Husband, huh?" You whispered back, teasing as your foreheads rested together.

He blushed and smiled. "I would love to be"

"I like the sound of that. Wife sounds like a good word, too. "

"I would love you to be," He breathed, making you pull back in shock.

"Rafe Cameron, if that was a proposal, you can -"

He cut you off with the kiss. "Baby, the day I propose it will be a day you never forget. That was not a proposal." He chuckled.

Honestly, if he was asking there and then, you would have said yes. But knowing Rafe, it would be something involving fireworks and champagne.

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe request

2K notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 9 months ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (19)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex, manipulation, angst ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She didn't know what made her feel an unpleasant constriction in her stomach when she saw the Iron Throne out of the corner of her eye. She stopped, looking at it, standing in the half-light in the distance of the great throne room, illuminated only by the light of the torches.

She thought with pain and bitterness that everything that had happened, everything they had had to sacrifice and fight for, was only because of someone being able to sit on it and declare themselves the only legitimate ruler.

Greed flowed through the veins of Targaryens as much as fire and blood, she thought with dismay.

Sunk in her thoughts, she headed for the throne room, thinking in the back of her mind that even if her father and mother agreed to come to an agreement to build a truce on the foundation of their marriage, if she did not bear her uncle a son, her husband's faction would surely begin plotting against her mother despite the agreement.

Even if her husband remained faithful to her, she could never fully trust him, be sure that he was on her side.

The perpetual thought of betrayal was destroying her from the inside.

She knew that in a matter of days her moon bleeding should begin and she knew what it would mean.

Disappointment and danger.

This was why, every morning for the last few days, before she had even had time to truly wake up, she had sunk her hand between her thighs, feeling her insides clench with fear and terror as she sensed the moisture under her fingers, which then turned out to her relief to be only her wetness mingled with her husband's spend.

It made her draw in a loud breath and smile, for a moment believing that maybe a miracle would happen.

That the gods by making his seed take root in her womb would also indicate to the kingdom that what they wanted to do met with their approval.

Later in the day, however, all it took was for her to feel a discomfort in her lower abdomen, a slight sting or pain, a wetness between her thighs and a cold sweat would fall over her again. She would then lose her appetite and although she ate her morning meal in the presence of her husband, she would later lie that she had eaten a second meal during his training and duties.

She was unable to swallow anything out of fear.

She had the feeling that later when he took her, already as her legitimate husband, something inside her broke, all her terror, her doubts and despair spilled out of her like a rushing river.

She was afraid of his reaction, afraid of his certainty that it was impossible for them not to have succeeded in begetting an heir even though her whole body screamed that it could have been different, that it could be months or years before it happened, and they did not have that much time.

His words, however, took her completely by surprise.

You need to calm down.

Come to terms as I do with whatever the will of the heavens decides.

She didn't know why she suddenly felt burning tears under her eyelids, why her lower lip began to tremble, why her throat squeezed so tightly at the wonderful thought that he understood that no matter how much she begged the gods for their mercy, she had no control over what would happen.

He let her know that whatever would come to pass, he would not blame her.

That he would consider it the will of the gods and not her failure.

She made love to him for the second time that night in his chamber, the embrace of his strong arms tighter than usual, the touch of his hands more tender, his lips finding hers again and again in sticky, greedy kisses as the deep thrusts of his hips forced his swollen manhood into her.

Even though she was a prisoner, she felt free, even though her enemy was taking her, she felt safe, even though some part of her thought it a betrayal, she loved him deeper than ever before.

Her lover.

Her husband.

Her friend.

She hadn't understood when she was still a child how important was the bond they had created then, the long hours they spent at night in conversation, in discussions, sometimes even arguments, after which, however, they always found each other again, realizing that they didn't have to agree on all issues.

She realised, lying with her face cuddled into his naked chest, holding her hand over his lazily beating heart, enveloped tightly in his arms with her legs entwined with his, that although at the time, in the context of their future marriage, what they were doing seemed unimportant, it appeared that it was in fact the foundation of everything that had happened between them many years later.

Had it not been for the trust and affection they had for each other then, they would not have been able to find their way in this reality that faced them now.

"I am truly fond of you, uncle." She said softly, sitting in one of the chairs in his chamber facing him, similarly engrossed in her reading, swinging her legs that did not reach the ground. She realised, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, that she had never told him this and she was not sure he had ever heard such words from anyone.

He lifted his gaze to her and furrowed his eyebrows, as if for a moment he did not understand what she had said; his face expressed consternation and embarrassment, as if he was unsure whether he should respond as a man to such a confession.

However, he apparently decided after a moment that since it was not an overwhelming confession of girlish deep love, but a simple expression of affection, he could also express his opinion on the matter.

"Well…I'm fond of you too." He replied cautiously and grunted, turning back to his book, pretending to concentrate on his reading with all his might – she could see the vein in his neck pulsing rapidly, betraying his excitement.

"What do you appreciate most about me? I, for one, value in you that you know so many things and always listen to me attentively. When I don't know something, you don't mock me but explain everything to me. I like it when you teach me and when you look at my embroidery, when you choose the ones you find most beautiful. I am very grateful then." She said quickly on one exhale, swallowing loudly, overjoyed that he had responded to her words, wanting to take advantage of this and convey to him as much as possible at once, which of course overwhelmed him as he did not look at her for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line.

It seemed to her that he was trying to hold back a smile, but she didn't know why.

He did a lot of things she didn't understand and refrained from emotional statements or gestures, however, it didn't bother her.

That was just the way he was.

She heard him swallow hard, gathering up the courage to reply something, pretending to look at what he was reading, although she was sure his mind was just analysing everything she had told him carefully.

"Well. I must admit that I also appreciate in you that you never mock me and listen attentively to what I have to say. I am fond of your presence, simply put." He muttered, clearly feeling that he was drowning more and more with every word he spoke, settling back in his chair a little, lifting his book higher, not wanting her to look at his face any longer.

She smiled contentedly then, happy, and went back to her reading without disturbing him any further.

She remembered that day exactly, for when she had escaped to him as she did every night, hiding under his bedclothes, she had fallen asleep almost immediately, tired after her long day full of duties. He waited apparently for her to fall asleep, hoping she wouldn't feel it as his hand touched her cheek, as his lips pressed against hers in a warm, soft, tender kiss.

She didn't move or open her eyes, feeling the heat in her lower abdomen, her heart began to pound like mad with delight, for he had never kissed her first before, never kissed her like this before.

She thought of that night and that day as she watched him standing on the other side of the chamber in the morning, his servant helping him dress his black, leather tunic while her maid tied the bodice of her gown.

Their gazes met for a moment and she saw him sigh heavily, unhappy at the thought of what awaited them.

Borros Baratheon.

The Lord of Storm's End appeared in King's Landing at midday, accompanied by his son and his daughter, who it was agreed was to marry her husband. The King called a gathering in the throne room, at which she and her uncle were also to be present, to try to face the consequences of their somewhat joint decision together.

She and her husband stepped into a great hall with tall windows with seven-pointed stars through a side entrance. She swallowed loudly when she caught sight of the silhouette of a postured man, his beard, hair and thick black eyebrows furrowed in disapproval and rage at the sight of her, his lips clenched as much as his fists. Her gaze fled to the right, to the girl standing next to him.

Maris Baratheon lifted her chin higher at the sight of her, struggling to hide the expression of frustration and disappointment in her eyes, clearly hoping that the woman who had stolen her prince would be an ordinary and bland girl, standing in the shadow of her dragon husband.

She, however, had specifically ordered her servants to leave her hair loose, for although when she was a child its colour had driven her to despair, now she saw it as her advantage – her dark and shiny curls fall in gentle waves down her exposed back, accentuating her fair skin and bare shoulders.

Her gown was modest, black and matte, with floral ornaments embroidered in gold threads on her chest, her sleeves reaching all the way down to the ground.

Anyone looking at them from afar could have the impression that her choice of attire was no accident, even more so standing next to her husband clad in a black leather tunic.

They looked alike.

Their evidence of unity and intimacy, a wordless expression of their bond.

She wondered if she could see from a distance the previously red and now slightly purple bruise on her neck, a reminder of her husband's greedy lips, and if she was aware of what it meant.

She pressed her lips together at the thought, trying not to smile and provoke her.

Although she couldn't call her ugly or rejecting, there was something harsh in her facial expression and posture – her elaborate hairstyle with her hair slicked back was perhaps fashionable, but it didn't suit her beauty or her face shape. Her gown, though rich, did not emphasise her assets, whatever they might be.

She thought she wanted to look haughty, to show her that while she was a lady of a respectable house, she was a mere bastard, even if the child of a princess.

Everyone turned their gazes towards the main gates when one of the guards announced the King himself; her uncle stepped into the throne room confidently without bestowing even a single glance on Borros Baratheon, Aegon the Conqueror's crown shone on his head in the glare of light trickling through the stained glass filled windows.

She felt her heart pound like mad as her uncle took his place on the throne, her mother's throne, and she clenched her eyelids, reminding herself that he had extended a hand of truce and that if she wanted the matter of succession to end bloodlessly, she had to control herself and give him respect.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her husband and swallowed loudly, seeing that he stood upright like a stone, all tense, his hands clasped behind his back, his silhouette expressing the same passive aggression she had felt from him when she appeared in the Red Keep after many years.

He was prepared for battle.

He was prepared to kill.

"My Lords. We are gathered here today to address a sensitive matter. Lord Borros Baratheon and his house have suffered an insult and have come to demand justice. My Lord." Aegon nodded, extending his hand, with this gesture showing him that he was allowing him to speak.

Lord Baratheon walked closer to the throne, followed by his heir and his daughter, her gaze full of poison and rage still fixed on her.

She did not look away.

She had no intention of giving her satisfaction.

"I have come to demand that the honourable Prince Aemond keep his mother's word and marry my daughter, Maris, according to his choice. I witnessed his arrival and that he confirmed in my presence my arrangements with the crown. Yet word has reached me that the Prince has secretly married another woman in a barbaric ceremony." Borros growled, his voice tubular and hoarse, full of strength and determination. She swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in her stomach, a shiver of discomfort ran down her spine at his words.

She glanced at her husband feeling him move beside her restlessly, enraged, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He tried to remain silent and not explode.

Aegon nodded at his words with understanding.

"I understand your bitterness, my Lord. Indeed, our mother forced my brother to comply with her will. However, in my presence and that of our entire family, our father, and your King to whom you vowed, during the supper before his death, announced his will to us.

He conveyed to us that he was keeping the betrothal between my brother and my niece in force, foreseeing the division that would occur in the kingdom once he left this world. After his death, my mother imprisoned my niece and ordered my brother to fly to Storm's End.

Therefore, as you understand, my Lord, the case substituted in this light clearly proves that his decision could not have been in force, for as far as I am aware, it is the King's decision, not the Queen's, which is the final one." Said Aegon with a lightness that shocked both her and her husband.

She could not believe how good a speechmaker he was, with what ease he played with facts and half-truths, creating a image in which, indeed, his brother was in a no-win situation and their nuptials were an act of honour and a fulfilment of their late father's will.

Lord Baratheon drew in a loud breath, furious, his face all red with emotion.

"Are we to accept this insult in silence, then? They did not marry in the presence of witnesses, they did not marry in the Sept, so their marriage is invalid. I demand justice for myself and my daughter." He hissed, Aegon raised his hand, ordering him to be silent.

"I understand the source of your anger, my Lord. However, you have a right not to know that last night my brother married my niece in the presence of myself and my wife before the Septon, who prepared the appropriate act, and their marriage is valid in the eyes of the realm.

I recognise, however, the injustice that has befallen you and my brother has decided to donate part of his annual income as a dowry for your daughter. In addition, you or your son, that I leave to you, will be granted a seat on the Small Council in place of my grandfather, whose decisions led to this…misfortune."

He said softly; Borros pressed his lips together at his words, looking at Aegon with piercing eyes, clearly not knowing himself what he thought of what he had heard.

He hesitated.

After a moment, however, a woman's voice echoed in the throne room.

"It is impossible, my King. No one will marry a woman who has already been touched by another man. The Prince has taken my maidenhood."

All gathered began to speak loudly, shocked by her words – she felt her heart leap into her throat, her stomach squeezed so tightly that she had trouble catching her breath.

She and Aegon looked at her uncle at the same moment, her husband standing as if stunned, his healthy eye wide open, his mouth parted in disbelief. After a moment, however, his shock was replaced by an expression of anger and fury, he took a step forward like a lion about to lash out at its prey.

"Lie." He growled, the voices of conversation and disbelief all around them even louder, the King twisted in his throne, completely not expecting this turn of events.

"How can we be sure that it was my brother who deprived you of your…virtue, my Lady?" He asked quickly, wanting to turn her confession against her, in case it appeared that her uncle was guilty, to accuse her of being able to be taken by any other man.

She lowered her gaze, breathing loudly through her mouth, feeling the cold sweat run down the back of her neck, her hands clenched on her womb quivering as much as her body.

No, he would never have done something like this.

He wouldn't deprive a woman of her maidenhood knowing he wouldn't marry her.

Was she sure of that?

Maybe he took her as his wife that night because he felt remorse after betraying her?

She felt tears of despair welling up under her eyelids at that thought, feeling that for a moment she was in the throne room with only her body, no longer seeing the proud look of Maris who grinned seeing the expression on her face.

"I ran after the Prince once he wanted to leave. He took me in one of the corridors of our fortress against my will." She said without a shadow of embarrassment, as if dragging him down behind her was more important to her than her own honour.

She wanted to become his wife, the Prince's wife at any cost.

"Maris, good gods…" Mumbled her father, looking at her in disbelief, all red with shame at her confession, shocked as the others by what had left her mouth, knowing full well that she was not telling the truth.

"Disgusting lies. I followed my nephew out the stronghold and returned to the Red Keep to fulfil my duty to my father that same night. It was not your maidenhood I took then, shameless woman." He growled, and she felt heat in her heart and a burst of pride at his words.

Even though he had used lie against lie − after all, she was no longer a maiden then − the way Lord Baratheon's daughter swallowed her saliva, the way her body shivered under the weight of his words made her lift her chin, looking at her with superiority.

Insolent whore.

Aegon raised his hands in the air, clearly amused by the situation, ordering everyone to remain silent.

"As I see it, opinions are divided on what happened. Lord Baratheon is a party. Is there anyone else who could confirm your version of events, my Lady?" He asked lightly; the girl looked at him breathing heavily, her hands clenched on her lower abdomen. Aegon looked to the side, directing his gaze to his brother.

"And you, brother, can anyone confirm your words?"

"My nephew." He answered without hesitation.

She swallowed hard, reminding herself that he had, after all, allowed her to meet her brother, and the king wasn't aware of it.

That he could be accused of treason, lose Aegon's support.

"We exchanged a few unpleasant sentences before I returned to King's Landing. Only a brief moment passed between the time he left and our conversation. Certainly not enough for even the most desperate man to possess a woman."

"Who will believe the words of a traitor? Was it not he who took away your eye, my Prince? Did he take something else from you along with it?" She asked mockingly, her father looked at her in horror, his lips forming a silent, warning 'enough'.

She heard her husband draw in his breath loudly, his knuckles clicking in his fingers as he squeezed them as hard as if he wanted to break them himself.

"You were there, my Lord. You know that she did not run after me, and even if she had, she would have gained nothing. I chose her because she was most different from my wife. Lest she might ever think that I could lust after your daughter." He replied with a cold, deep hiss that echoed through the throne room.

She felt a wave of delightful satisfaction run down her body, and though she knew her husband's cruel words might have cost them everything, the look of disbelief on Maris' face was more than worth it.

Did she really believe that he had chosen her because she was the most beautiful of her sisters?

That he could ever desire her when she, his childhood friend, his confidante and lover was by his side?

"I do not know what I saw." Borros replied, however, without his previous confidence, not looking at him or the King, apparently trying with his last strength to protect his and his daughter's honour. Her husband snorted at these words.

"Pathetic." He sneered quietly, not daring to say it out loud; it seemed to her that his whole figure was trembling.

He was furious.

"If I were your daughter, I would be wary of such far-fetched accusations without any evidence or witnesses, my Lord. Some might call it as treason." Aegon replied, spreading out comfortably on his throne.

She couldn't believe some part of her admired him for how he was playing with the situation while still keeping what was happening under control.

Lord of Storm's End did not respond to his words.

Aegon's words were the nail in the coffin of whatever plan Lord Baratheon's daughter had in her head, and after her humiliating outburst, Borros agreed to the terms set by the king himself and the amount of her dowry, which her uncle-husband would pay out of his purse.

She watched with satisfaction and an involuntary smile on her lips as Lord Baratheon and his daughter were forced to sign the terms of the agreement imposed on them by her uncle.

Borros left the throne room like a storm, furious, without even bowing to Aegon, to which he only responded with an amused expression on his face.

Maris didn't dare look at her anymore, her face pale, from a distance she could see how red her eyes were from tears.

She wished to be a princess in a beautiful castle.

She could be his Rhaenys, but she had no intention of allowing any Visenya into their lives.

Even if it was one night in ten, she couldn't bear the thought of having to share him.

Fortunately, her husband was as possessive as she was.

The smile disappeared from her face as she felt an unpleasant, familiar stinging sensation inside her lower abdomen.

She clamped her hand over her womb as something warm and sticky ran down her thigh, a whine of despair and pain stuck in her throat as she pressed her lips together.

She took a step backwards, revealing the stone floor under her feet, and noticed a few drops of crimson liquid on it.

She was bleeding.

317 notes · View notes

dreamersworldduh · 1 month ago

Text

RISKY DECISIONS

• Oliver Queen x Male!Reader

SUMMARY — being an assistant is supposed to be an hell of a job, at least that was how the movies make it seems. Yet somehow it’s the complete opposite for you when you become an assistant to Mayor Oliver Queen.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 9.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! Hi! Sorry for the delay, I couldn’t choice which fic I wanted to do between Oliver Queen and Nate Jacobs, plus I have my first request that I’m writing, so I did to them all. Enjoy! 😚

You never imagined that living in a place like Star City would lead you to be sitting across from its enigmatic and undeniably handsome mayor, Oliver Queen, on a date of all things. Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them, and this was certainly one of those moments. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd go from an ordinary citizen in a bustling city to sharing an intimate evening with one of its most powerful and mysterious figures. But, as they say, fate works in mysterious ways.

It all began on what you thought was just another ordinary day, one where you were desperately scouring job listings and hoping to find something, anything, that could help pay the bills. As an art major fresh out of college, you'd always envisioned a life filled with creative pursuits—painting, galleries, exhibitions, and maybe even a small studio of your own someday. However, reality had other plans. The bills didn't stop, and your bank account certainly wasn't growing any larger. That's when the job posting for an assistant position in the mayor's office caught your eye.

It wasn't exactly a dream job, but it was stable, well-paying, and honestly, you couldn't afford to be picky. So, you applied, never thinking you'd actually hear back. To your surprise, you received a call within days. A whirlwind of an interview followed—though, admittedly, the moment you saw Oliver Queen walk into the room, you barely remembered what you said. His presence was larger than life: sharp blue eyes that seemed to see right through you, a confident smile that somehow managed to be both charming and intimidating, and the kind of charisma that could make anyone feel like they were the only person in the room. By some miracle (or perhaps your desperation showed just enough to make you seem dedicated), you landed the job.

At first, the position was everything you anticipated—and maybe a little less glamorous than you'd hoped. Your days were filled with the predictable rhythm of office life: fetching endless cups of coffee, juggling the mayor's ever-changing schedule, filing documents that seemed to multiply overnight, and acting as a buffer between your boss and the chaotic world of Star City politics. The office buzzed with constant activity, from council meetings to press conferences, all of it demanding your attention. You often found yourself staying late to meet impossible deadlines or untangling last-minute crises that seemed to pop up without fail. It wasn't the creative dream you'd envisioned, but it was stable work that kept your head above water. For that alone, you were grateful.

Still, the job came with its challenges. You quickly learned that Star City's political landscape was as turbulent as its streets. Factions bickered over funding and policies while the media scrutinized every move the mayor's office made. More than once, you found yourself running interference during heated debates or smoothing over tense situations with quick thinking and a calm demeanor. The work was demanding, but it left little room for boredom.

What you didn't expect, however, was how involved Mayor Queen was with his staff—or, to your growing surprise, how often he interacted with you personally. You'd heard the rumors before you took the job: that he was aloof, enigmatic, and often kept to himself. His reputation painted a picture of a man who carried his secrets like armor, a leader whose complicated past made him both a hero and a mystery to Star City's citizens. But the man you came to know was so much more than the headlines suggested.

Oliver had a presence that was hard to ignore. Whether he was striding into the office with his signature confidence or leaning over a conference table to make a point, his sheer charisma filled the room. What struck you most, however, was the surprising warmth behind the stern exterior. He wasn't just the brooding figure the tabloids made him out to be. He had a sharp wit and an easy, disarming sense of humor that could catch you off guard. He took the time to remember the little things—your favorite coffee order, your comments about your artwork, and even the days you looked particularly tired after long hours.

At first, your interactions were brief, professional exchanges—a quick thank-you for a report or a casual nod as he passed your desk. But those fleeting moments gradually grew into something more. Conversations in passing turned into longer discussions during late-night work sessions, where the two of you often found yourselves the last ones in the office. He'd linger, asking questions about your background, your aspirations, and what had brought you to Star City. You found yourself opening up in ways you hadn't expected, drawn in by his genuine interest and the way he seemed to truly listen when you spoke.

And then there were the glimpses of vulnerability, the cracks in his armor that revealed the man beneath the title. You could see the weight he carried—the burdens of his position, the responsibility he felt for the city, and perhaps even the ghosts of his past. There were moments when his smile faltered, when his gaze lingered on something unseen, and you realized just how much he gave of himself to lead Star City. It made him more human, more real, and in turn, it made your admiration for him grow.

Before long, you began to notice the subtle shifts in your dynamic. The way his gaze would linger just a moment too long when you spoke. The warmth in his voice when he addressed you by name. The private smiles he seemed to reserve just for you. It was as though he saw something in you that no one else did, and the realization sent a flutter through your chest every time. What had started as an unassuming assistant job was slowly transforming into something far more significant—something you never could have anticipated.

It wasn't long before the dynamic between you and Oliver began to shift in ways you couldn't quite define but couldn't ignore either. At first, it was subtle, so subtle that you wondered if you were reading too much into it. A fleeting glance, a brush of fingers when he handed you a file, the way his voice softened slightly when he said your name—these small, delicate moments began to stand out amidst the chaos of your daily responsibilities. It was easy to dismiss them at first as coincidence, or perhaps just a byproduct of your overactive imagination. After all, this was Oliver Queen, the mayor of Star City—your boss.

But the signs kept coming, and they became harder to rationalize. Like the way his gaze would linger on you during meetings, just a beat longer than it did with anyone else. Or the way his entire demeanor seemed to change when you spoke about your artistic ambitions, a rare spark of curiosity lighting his usually serious eyes. He'd ask questions—not the polite, cursory ones people ask out of obligation, but genuine inquiries that made you feel like he actually cared about what you had to say. And then there were the smiles, small and fleeting but entirely private, as though they were meant for you and no one else.

One moment in particular stuck with you. You'd been working late on a policy briefing, your desk cluttered with papers and a cold cup of coffee. Oliver had come by to check on your progress, leaning casually against the edge of your desk as he skimmed through a draft you'd prepared. When he handed it back, his hand lingered just a moment longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against yours. It was barely noticeable, but it sent a jolt through you nonetheless. He'd given you one of those rare smiles then—soft, almost shy—and for a moment, the bustling office around you seemed to fade away.

Still, you told yourself not to read into it. He was your boss, after all, and the last thing you wanted was to create some awkward misunderstanding that could jeopardize the job you'd worked so hard to secure. But the moments kept adding up, like puzzle pieces that refused to fit into the neat, professional boundaries you'd tried to maintain.

And then, one evening, Oliver made it clear that you weren't imagining things. It had been an exhausting day, the kind where the tension in the office was almost palpable. A city council crisis had thrown everyone into overdrive, and by the time the dust had settled, the office was nearly empty, save for you and a few other stragglers finishing up loose ends. You were at your desk, methodically packing up for the night, when you heard his familiar voice behind you.

"Long day," he said, his tone warm but edged with fatigue. You turned to find him standing a few feet away, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up—a rare, unguarded version of the polished mayor the public usually saw. He looked tired, but his gaze was steady, focused entirely on you.

"It's an understatement," you replied with a tired smile, reaching for your bag. You expected him to make a quick comment and head out, as he usually did after late nights like this. But instead, he lingered, his hands resting in his pockets as though he were trying to decide something.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he said finally, his voice low but firm. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a vulnerability you'd never seen before. You straightened, suddenly very aware of the shift in the air between you.

"Of course," you said, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart began to race.

He took a small step closer, the distance between you shrinking. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you," he began, his words deliberate, as though he'd been rehearsing them. "And I'd like to spend more time with you—outside of work."

The room seemed to grow quieter, the hum of the office fading into the background. His words hung in the air, carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken. There was no mistaking his meaning now, no room for misinterpretation. This wasn't a casual invitation to discuss a project over coffee or grab a quick lunch. This was personal, intimate—a step into uncharted territory.

"Are you... asking me out?" you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curved into a soft, almost sheepish smile, the kind you rarely saw from him. "Yes," he said simply. "If you're interested."

For a moment, all you could do was stare, your mind racing as you processed the enormity of what was happening. The mayor of Star City, the man who had once seemed so untouchable, was standing in front of you, vulnerable and waiting for your answer.

You agreed, of course—how could you not? But even as you said yes, a thousand thoughts raced through your mind. How had this even happened? How had a job you took out of sheer necessity led to this? As you sat across from Oliver now, his attention focused entirely on you, you couldn't help but marvel at the twists and turns life had taken to bring you to this exact moment.

As the evening unfolded, the boundaries between professional and personal seemed to blur, dissolving into something warm, candid, and deeply human. The weight of Oliver's office—of city budgets, policies, and public appearances—felt like a distant memory. For the first time, the man across from you wasn't Star City's mayor, nor a public figure surrounded by layers of protocol and mystery. He was just Oliver, and his curiosity about your life was genuine in a way that caught you completely off guard.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table as he spoke, his piercing blue eyes never straying from yours. "What made you choose art?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with a genuine interest that made your heart skip.

At first, you hesitated. It wasn't often someone asked about your passions with such sincerity, and you weren't sure how much to share. But there was something in the way he waited—patient, attentive, and utterly engaged—that made you feel safe enough to open up. You spoke about how art had always been your refuge, a way to process the chaos of life and transform it into something meaningful. You told him about the quiet joy of sketching in a sunlit room as a child, the long hours spent perfecting your craft, and how your dream of making a living from your passion had always seemed just out of reach.

Oliver nodded thoughtfully as you spoke, his expression shifting between admiration and understanding. He asked questions that went deeper than surface-level curiosity: What inspired you? What challenges had you faced? What did you hope to achieve? It wasn't just polite conversation; it was as though he wanted to piece together every fragment of what made you who you were. His attention made you feel seen in a way that few ever had, and the ease with which the words flowed from you surprised even yourself.

Then it was his turn. Slowly, carefully, he began to share pieces of himself—pieces you'd only glimpsed through the carefully curated image of Oliver Queen the public knew. He spoke of his years away from Star City, the pain of losing people he loved, and the weight of the mistakes that had shaped him. His voice carried a quiet intensity as he described the sense of purpose he had found upon returning home, the drive to rebuild a city he felt responsible for.

"I never thought I'd end up here," he admitted, leaning back slightly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Running a city, leading people—it wasn't part of the plan. There were times I didn't even think I'd make it through the day, let alone find a reason to keep going. But Star City... this place, these people, they gave me that reason."

His honesty was raw, vulnerable, and it struck a chord deep within you. It was one thing to admire him as a leader, a symbol of resilience for the city, but hearing the weight of his struggles made him feel more real, more human. He wasn't just the polished figure on campaign posters or the commanding presence in a boardroom—he was someone who had fought to piece himself back together, someone who had chosen to carry the burdens of an entire city on his shoulders.

Of course, it wasn't all heavy confessions and heartfelt exchanges. This was Oliver Queen, after all—a man whose charm was practically legendary, a weapon he wielded with precision even now. Throughout the night, moments of levity broke through, lighthearted and flirtatious in a way that left you both blushing and grinning.

"You have this way of pulling people in," he said at one point, his lips curving into a sly smile. "It's not just your art—it's the way you see the world. It's captivating."

You laughed, trying to brush off the compliment even as your cheeks warmed. "That's rich coming from you," you teased. "I'm sure you've had plenty of practice captivating people."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Maybe," he admitted, his gaze locking with yours, "but that doesn't make this any less real."

The weight of his words hit you like a jolt. It was playful, yes, but there was an unmistakable sincerity beneath the flirtation. He wasn't just flattering you; he meant every word, and the realization left you momentarily speechless.

And then there were his eyes. You'd always thought they were striking, but tonight, they were utterly mesmerizing. In the intimate glow of the room, they seemed to hold a depth and warmth that drew you in completely. There was an intensity in the way he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world, the only thing worth his attention. You found yourself hanging on his every word, not because he was Oliver Queen, the mayor, but because of the way he made you feel: seen, valued, and undeniably alive.

By the time the conversation began to wind down, you glanced at your watch in surprise. Hours had slipped by without you even noticing, the world outside fading into irrelevance. You weren't sure what the future held—what this connection would mean or where it might lead—but in that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All that mattered was the man in front of you, the shared laughter and confessions, and the undeniable spark that had taken you both by surprise.

Your relationship with Oliver had evolved into something that neither of you could easily define, but it was becoming clear to both of you that the lines between personal and professional were growing increasingly blurred. You found yourselves spending more and more time together—not just outside of work but during long hours in the office as well. Though you both tried to maintain a semblance of professionalism in front of others, it was becoming harder to keep up appearances. Especially when Oliver seemed determined to test those boundaries every chance he got.

One afternoon, you were in his office, helping him sort through a mountain of paperwork that needed his signature or review. The large space, usually a hub of activity, was uncharacteristically quiet, with most of the staff out to lunch. You sat comfortably in one of the plush lounge chairs positioned across from his desk, your legs crossed as you sifted through a stack of documents. Oliver was seated behind the desk, but you couldn't help noticing that his attention wasn't exactly on the papers in front of him.

"Okay, so this one is for the new community center funding," you explained, glancing up at him briefly before returning to the next item in the pile. "And this one is for—Oliver, are you even listening?"

He didn't respond, not really. Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you in a way that made your stomach do a little flip. You furrowed your brow, confused, and a little exasperated by his lack of focus.

"Oliver?" you prompted again, your tone carrying a hint of warning. That's when he stood abruptly, pushing his chair back and rounding the desk with a purposeful stride.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and curiosity as you tilted your head to look up at him.

Still, he said nothing. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours before firmly taking it in his grasp. Your heart skipped a beat as he gently tugged you to your feet, leading you behind the desk. Before you could protest or even fully process what was happening, he dropped back into his chair, pulling you into his lap in one swift motion.

"Uh, no, sir," you said quickly, shaking your head even as your cheeks flushed with heat. "This is definitely not happening. Do I need to remind you that your sister, who also happens to be my boss, would kill me if she saw me sitting on the big boss' lap?"

Oliver threw his head back and laughed, the rich sound filling the room and sending a shiver down your spine. "Relax," he said, his voice low and teasing as his hands rested lightly on your hips. "Everyone's out to lunch. We have the whole office to ourselves."

As if to further his point, he leaned forward slightly, brushing his lips against the side of your neck in a way that made your resolve falter. You wanted to protest, to remind him of the risks, but his charm—and the warmth of his touch—was dangerously persuasive.

"Oliver..." you began, your tone meant to be scolding but coming out far weaker than you intended. He smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying how easily he was unraveling your composure.

"You worry too much," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with mischief. "You work hard, you're brilliant at what you do, and you deserve to take a little break every now and then."

His lips pressed another soft kiss to your neck, and you felt your resolve slipping further. You glanced toward the office door, half-expecting someone to barge in despite Oliver's assurances that you were alone. But no one came, and for the moment, it was just the two of you in the quiet, sunlit office.

"Fine," you relented, though your tone carried a mix of exasperation and amusement. "But if anyone walks in, you get to explain this."

His grin widened, and he leaned back in the chair, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt protective and intimate all at once. "Deal," he said simply, his voice low and satisfied.

For a few stolen moments, the world outside the office seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your bubble of shared laughter, quiet teasing, and the unmistakable spark of something neither of you could quite put into words.

Suddenly, Oliver's lips claimed yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was heated, passionate, and filled with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs. His hands, firm and commanding, cupped your face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your heart pound wildly. The world around you blurred and disappeared, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the electricity crackling between you.

Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, Oliver's hands slid down to your waist, guiding you with a confidence that left no room for second-guessing. With a slight shift, he maneuvered you to straddle his lap, his strength evident as he adjusted your position as though you weighed nothing at all. Your knees pressed into the soft leather of his chair as you braced yourself on his shoulders, your breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

His hands found their way to your hips, gripping you firmly as though grounding you in the moment. But he didn't stop there. His fingers moved lower, kneading your curves with a mix of control and reverence, until they rested on the swell of your ass. His touch was possessive, his palms squeezing with a deliberate pressure that sent shivers racing down your spine.

Your body pressed closer against his, and that's when you felt it— his dick—hard, undeniable, and pressing against you with a need that matched the fire in his kiss. A quiet gasp escaped your lips as he tilted his hips slightly, guiding you against him with a motion that made the heat between you both nearly unbearable. His hands urged you to move, rolling your hips against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm that left no doubt about his desire for you.

The friction was electric, a spark that ignited something primal within you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips parting to let him take the lead as his kiss grew deeper, more consuming. His tongue teased yours, each movement of his lips and hands drawing you further into the whirlwind of his passion.

"Oliver..." you murmured breathlessly against his lips, your voice barely audible. But he didn't stop. If anything, your quiet plea only seemed to fuel him further. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave you tingling, and he pressed you down harder against him, making sure you felt every inch of him.

The sensation was overwhelming, his touch, his kiss, the way he looked at you with a gaze that burned with both desire and something deeper, something more tender. It wasn't just lust—it was connection, raw and unfiltered, as though the barriers between you both had finally shattered.

In that moment, there was no office, no mayoral responsibilities, no rules or consequences. There was only Oliver, his body against yours, his hands guiding you, and the all-consuming pull that neither of you could resist.

Your fingers moved almost instinctively, as though they had a mind of their own, reaching up to loosen Oliver's perfectly knotted tie. The soft silk slipped through your fingers, and with each tug, you felt a thrill rush through you at the sight of his reaction. Oliver's lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, his eyes glinting with delight as he watched you work. There was something utterly magnetic about his gaze, the way it locked onto you with unrelenting focus, making you feel like you were the only person in his world at that moment.

"Taking charge, are we?" he teased, his voice low and rich with amusement, though the heat in his tone betrayed just how much he was enjoying this.

You didn't respond, not with words at least. Instead, you let the tie fall free, the fabric sliding between your fingers as you dropped it onto the desk behind him. The small act felt bolder than it should have, but the way his smile deepened, his sharp jawline relaxing just slightly, made your pulse quicken.

Your fingers hesitated for just a beat before moving to the top button of his crisp white shirt. As you slipped it free, your fingertips brushed lightly against the warm skin of his chest, and you felt him draw in a slow, deliberate breath. The air between you seemed to crackle, the quiet tension growing with every passing second. You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver racing down your spine.

Encouraged by the way he was watching you, you continued. One button became two, then three, and with each flick of your fingers, more of his chest was revealed. The smooth, taut skin beneath his shirt was a distraction all its own, and the heat radiating from his body only seemed to amplify the electricity between you. His collar loosened, exposing just a hint of his collarbone, and you couldn't help but let your fingertips trail lightly against the edge of the fabric as you worked your way downward.

Oliver's hands moved to rest gently on your hips, his touch grounding you even as your heart raced. "You're full of surprises," he murmured, his voice quieter now, softer, but no less filled with that unmistakable heat. His smile had turned from playful to something deeper, something laced with admiration and desire.

As you undid the next button, the edges of his shirt began to fall open, revealing more of his toned chest, and you couldn't help but let your fingers linger for a moment, brushing against the smooth lines of his skin. His muscles tensed slightly under your touch, and his eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by something far more intense.

You were acutely aware of the closeness between you, the way his breath mingled with yours as you leaned closer, your fingers still working on the remaining buttons. The quiet intimacy of the moment was intoxicating, each small movement drawing you both deeper into uncharted territory. With every undone button, every fleeting touch, the barriers between you seemed to fall away, leaving only the undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore.

Oliver's lips crashed against yours with renewed intensity, his kiss deep and commanding as he lifted you effortlessly by your legs. You barely had time to gasp before he was standing, his strong arms supporting you as if you weighed nothing, and placing you on the cool, polished surface of the desk. The sudden shift in position sent a rush of heat through you, but practicality took over for a brief moment as you broke the kiss to hurriedly push the paperwork to the side.

The sound of the papers scattering across the desk made him chuckle, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Really?" he teased, his voice low and filled with amusement.

"Shut up," you shot back playfully, grabbing his face and pulling him back into another kiss before he could say anything else. Your lips silenced his laughter, and his hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. The kiss was fiery and relentless, leaving you breathless as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your mouth.

Then Oliver broke the kiss, leaving you gasping for air as his lips trailed down your jawline and onto your neck. His hot breath sent shivers racing down your spine, and the scrape of his stubble against your skin made your heart race. His hands, steady and deliberate, found the buttons of your shirt, and you felt the subtle tug as he began to undo them one by one. There was no rush in his movements—each button was undone slowly, almost torturously, as though he wanted you to feel every second of the moment. His lips followed the path of his fingers, brushing against the newly exposed skin and leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Your hands, seemingly acting of their own accord, moved to his waist. You fumbled slightly as you found his belt buckle, your fingers trembling with a mix of anticipation and urgency. The clink of the metal as you unfastened it filled the quiet space around you, and you wasted no time pulling the zipper of his tailored pants down.

The pants slipped down his hips, falling into a crumpled heap around his feet, revealing a pair of tight black briefs that left very little to the imagination. Your breath hitched as your eyes were immediately drawn to the prominent bulge straining against the fabric, impossible to ignore. The sheer size of him made your pulse quicken, and a faint blush rose to your cheeks as your gaze lingered. He was rock-hard, his dick was pressing against the material, begging to be freed from its confines. The sight alone was enough to make your thighs press together, a rush of heat pooling low in your abdomen.

Oliver caught the way you were staring, and his lips curled into a knowing smirk. "See something you like?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement and desire as he continued working on the last few buttons of your shirt.

You didn't answer—words felt unnecessary. Instead, you reached out, your fingers grazing over the waistband of his briefs, your touch tentative yet deliberate. The sensation of his hard length beneath your fingertips made him exhale sharply, his movements pausing briefly as though savoring the contact. The tension between you was palpable, every touch, every glance fanning the flames of a fire that had been building for far too long.

With a deliberate tug, you slid Oliver's briefs down, revealing him in all his glory. His nine-inch dick sprang free, thick, hard, and pulsing with need. The sight of him, fully aroused, made your breath hitch, your eyes lingering for a moment as you took him in. You bit your lip, a mixture of nervous anticipation and sheer desire coursing through you, before glancing up to meet his eyes. The way he looked at you—raw, hungry, and utterly captivated—only fueled your confidence.

Without breaking eye contact, you placed a hand on his chest and gave him a gentle push, urging him back into his chair. He complied willingly, sinking into the plush leather, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips curled into a faint smirk, but there was a flicker of tension in his jaw as though the anticipation was almost too much for him.

You slowly sank to your knees in front of him, your hands trailing down his thighs as you positioned yourself between them. The power dynamic had shifted slightly now, the usually confident and composed Oliver watching you with uncharacteristic vulnerability. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair as he waited for your next move.

Your hand reached out to wrap around the base of his shaft, your fingers barely managing to encircle his impressive girth. His skin was warm to the touch, the velvety smoothness contrasting with the hardness beneath. You gave him a tentative stroke, marveling at the way his body responded to you, the way his hips shifted slightly at your touch.

Leaning forward, you let your tongue dart out, flicking it lightly against the head of his dick. His sharp intake of breath was music to your ears, and the faint groan that followed sent a thrill rushing through you. Encouraged, you let your tongue trail along the length of him, your movements slow and deliberate as you tasted him for the first time. The salty, masculine flavor was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but savor every inch.

"God," Oliver murmured, his voice rough and strained. His hands twitched on the armrests, as though fighting the urge to grab you and take control. But he didn't—he let you set the pace, his trust in you evident in the way he surrendered to the moment.

With one last teasing lick, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, inch by inch. The stretch was intense, but you relished the challenge, the way he filled you completely. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a tight seal as you began to move, your tongue swirling around him with each stroke.

Oliver's reaction was immediate. His head fell back against the chair, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. "You're... amazing," he managed to say, his voice heavy with pleasure. His hands left the armrests, one of them tangling in your hair as though he needed something to anchor himself.

You glanced up at him as you worked, his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The sight of him, undone and vulnerable, sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. You adjusted your angle, taking him deeper, and the way his grip tightened in your hair told you exactly how much he appreciated it.

The rhythm you set was slow at first, deliberate and teasing, but as his moans grew louder and his hips began to move in sync with you, you quickened your pace. The room was filled with the sounds of his pleasure, the quiet groans and gasps that made it clear you had him completely under your control. Every movement, every flick of your tongue, every pull of your lips was designed to drive him closer to the edge—and judging by the tension in his body, you were succeeding.

Suddenly, you pulled away, letting his length slip from your lips as you caught your breath. The moment lingered, both of you flushed and panting, the heat between you almost unbearable. Without a word, you rose to your feet, your movements deliberate, your eyes locked onto Oliver's. His gaze followed you intently, dark and filled with desire, as though he could hardly wait to see what you'd do next.

Your hands moved to your belt, the faint sound of the buckle clicking open breaking the tense silence in the room. Slowly, purposefully, you slid the leather strap free and let it drop to the floor. Oliver's lips parted slightly, his chest heaving as he watched you with rapt attention. You moved to your pants next, unbuttoning and unzipping them with agonizing slowness, letting them fall to pool at your feet. With one final motion, you slid your briefs down, freeing yourself completely.

Your length sprang free, hard and ready, the cool air sending a slight shiver down your spine. Oliver's eyes flickered down, his gaze darkening even further as he took you in. A low, appreciative growl escaped his lips, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the way he looked at you, his hunger evident in every line of his body.

Without hesitation, you climbed back onto his lap, straddling him. Your thighs pressed against his hips as his strong hands immediately found their place on your waist, gripping you possessively. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to make you gasp, the pressure grounding you as you shifted into place.

Oliver let out a guttural groan as your length grazed against his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. The heat and hardness of his arousal pressed against yours, the friction intoxicating as you rolled your hips slightly. The faint slickness between your bodies only heightened the sensation, and you couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped your lips as your movements grew more deliberate.

"Damn," Oliver muttered, his voice rough and low as he tilted his head back slightly, his grip on your waist tightening. His usual composure was gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered desire. "You're going to make me cum."

You smirked, leaning forward just enough for your breath to ghost against his ear. "That's the idea," you teased, your voice soft but dripping with mischief.

Oliver growled again, his hands sliding down to grip your hips firmly. With an ease that spoke to his strength, he lifted you slightly, aligning you above him. The heat of his length pressed against your hole, and you felt a pulse of anticipation ripple through you. He held you there for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle, a stark contrast to the raw desire in his gaze. His hands steadied you, his touch a perfect mix of control and care.

You nodded, your lips parting as your breath hitched. "Always," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

With that, Oliver guided you down slowly, the pressure building as he pushed against you. The stretch was intense, but his firm, steady hands on your hips kept you grounded, helping you adjust inch by inch. The combination of his strength and gentleness left you breathless, and you couldn't help but marvel at the way he seemed to read your body so effortlessly.

As you sank lower, the feeling of him filling you completely sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you gasp and clutch at his shoulders for support. Oliver let out a deep, satisfied groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he finally buried himself within you. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, every nerve ending in your body alive with sensation as you both paused, letting the raw, intimate connection settle over you..

Oliver's lips claimed yours once more, a kiss that was deep and fervent, filled with passion that left you breathless. His hands remained firmly on your hips, his grip strong and steady, guiding your movements as you began to lift yourself slowly. The sensation of him inside you was intense, every inch of his length pressing against you in a way that made your entire body tremble.

You moved cautiously at first, rising up just enough for the stretch to ease before sinking back down, taking him in again. The friction was exquisite, a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your breath hitch with every motion. Oliver groaned against your lips, the low, guttural sound reverberating through you and spurring you on. His fingers dug into your hips, not enough to hurt but enough to ground you, to remind you of the control he still held even as he let you set the pace.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, you gasped for air, your hands braced against his shoulders for balance. His gaze met yours, piercing and filled with a hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine. He leaned forward, capturing your lips again, his tongue teasing yours as your movements grew more confident, more fluid. Each rise and fall of your body sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, the connection between you both deepening with every thrust.

Oliver's head fell back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a groan escaped him. "You feel... so damn good," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. The praise only fueled you, making you move faster, your hips rolling as you adjusted to the rhythm that had both of you teetering on the edge.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed beneath your hands as you rode him, the heat radiating from his skin. His hands slid from your hips to your lower back, pulling you closer against him as if he couldn't bear to have even the slightest bit of space between you. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your body.

"Oliver..." you gasped, the sound of his name escaping your lips in a breathless moan. He responded with another low growl, his hands gripping you tighter as he began to meet your movements, thrusting up to match your rhythm. The chair creaked beneath you both, the quiet sound lost in the symphony of your ragged breaths and the unmistakable sounds of your bodies moving together.

Each motion brought a fresh wave of heat, the pressure building with every rise and fall. The connection between you was raw and consuming, the kind of intensity that blurred the world around you until there was nothing left but him—his touch, his kiss, and the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely.

Oliver's lips found yours again, his kiss searing and desperate, as if he needed to feel every part of you, to lose himself completely in the moment. And you let him, your movements growing bolder, faster, as you gave yourself over to the intoxicating rhythm of pleasure and passion that bound you both together.

You never imagined yourself in a situation like this—having sex in an office, no less the mayor's office—and with the mayor himself. The fact that Oliver Queen, your unofficial boyfriend, was the one making you unravel so completely felt like something out of a fever dream. But here you were, straddling him in his plush leather chair, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. The taboo nature of it all—the high-powered setting, the risk of someone walking in—only seemed to heighten the intensity, making every sensation feel sharper, more electrifying.

The thought of the unlocked door barely crossed your mind. If it had, you didn't care enough to stop. The pleasure coursing through you was too overwhelming, too consuming, to let the fear of being caught disrupt the moment. Oliver's hands gripped your hips possessively, guiding you as you moved, his strength grounding you even as your world felt like it was spinning out of control.

His head tilted back slightly, exposing the sharp angle of his jaw as he groaned deeply, the sound echoing through the otherwise empty office. His usually composed and polished demeanor had completely unraveled, leaving behind only the raw, passionate man beneath. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch. The way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered—sent a rush of heat through your body.

"You're doing so good," he murmured, his voice rough and low, each word dripping with sincerity and desire. His praise sent a jolt of pleasure through you, spurring you to move faster, to take him deeper, to draw even more sounds of pleasure from his lips.

The documents behind you probably held the future of Star City in their inked words, but they were the farthest thing from your mind. All you could focus on was the way Oliver's hands explored your body, the way his lips occasionally captured yours in a searing kiss, the way his dick filled you completely with every movement.

The faint hum of city noise from the windows seemed a distant backdrop to the symphony of your shared breaths, quiet moans, and the creak of the chair beneath you. The unlocked door stood as a silent reminder of just how risky this was, but it only added to the thrill. Anyone could walk in—his other assistant, a council member, even Thea—and yet neither of you could bring yourselves to stop.

The sheer recklessness of the moment made it all the more exhilarating. The polished, professional space of the office felt almost surreal as a backdrop to something so intimate, so primal. This was the same place where press conferences were planned and city policies were crafted, and now it bore witness to a completely different kind of connection—a connection that was raw, electric, and undeniable.

You hadn't planned for this, hadn't expected to find yourself in a whirlwind romance with Star City's most powerful man. Yet, as you moved together, his hands gripping you tighter, his name falling from your lips in a breathless moan, you realized you wouldn't trade this moment for anything. Locked door or not, the passion between you was too powerful, too consuming, to be denied.

Suddenly, Oliver's eyes darkened with a new intensity, a spark of determination flickering across his face. Without a word, he tightened his grip on your hips, and in one fluid motion, he stood, his incredible strength evident as he lifted you effortlessly from his lap. The movement made you gasp, your body clinging to his as his dick stayed buried deep inside of you, the sensation making your head spin.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he turned and laid you down flat on the cool, polished surface of his desk. The contrast between the hard surface beneath you and the heat radiating from his body was electric, sending a shiver racing down your spine. Papers and folders scattered to the floor, forgotten in the haze of passion, as Oliver positioned himself over you, his hands firm and commanding as he held your legs in each of his hands.

He pushed your thighs apart, lifting your legs slightly to give himself the perfect angle. The possessiveness in his touch sent a thrill through you, making you feel utterly exposed yet completely safe at the same time. His grip was steady, his fingers pressing into your skin as he adjusted your position, and you couldn't help but marvel at the raw power in his every movement.

Without hesitation, Oliver began to thrust into you, his pace quickening with a new fervor that left you gasping for breath. The desk creaked slightly beneath the force of his movements, the sound mingling with the quiet moans and gasps that spilled from your lips with every powerful stroke. Each thrust was deliberate, his hips snapping against you with a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure radiating through your entire body.

"God, you feel so good," Oliver groaned, his voice rough and strained, every word dripping with raw desire. His gaze flickered between where your bodies were joined and your face, his expression a mix of concentration and unrelenting hunger. His intensity was overwhelming, consuming, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands instinctively reached out, gripping the edge of the desk for support as his thrusts grew deeper, harder, the angle sending shockwaves of pleasure straight through you. The fullness of him, the way he moved with such precision, made your head fall back, your lips parting in a breathless moan. Oliver leaned over you slightly, his strong hands keeping your legs steady as he drove into you with a pace that bordered on relentless.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of desire that drowned out everything else. Each thrust sent the desk sliding ever so slightly against the floor, a subtle reminder of the raw power behind Oliver's movements. His hands shifted slightly, his grip tightening as he adjusted the angle again, hitting a spot that made your entire body arch in response.

"Oliver!" you cried out, his name escaping your lips in a breathless moan as pleasure coursed through you like fire. He grinned at the sound, his usual smirk replaced with something darker, more primal.

"I love hearing that," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly as his pace quickened even further. His fingers dug into your thighs, anchoring you to him as he drove you closer to the edge. Each thrust was purposeful, each movement designed to wring every ounce of pleasure from your body, and you couldn't stop yourself from surrendering completely to him.

The desk beneath you seemed almost insignificant compared to the connection between you both, the way he moved, the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. The vulnerability of your position, the strength of his control—it was intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly perfect.

The pressure in your body had been building steadily, each thrust of Oliver's hips pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your fingers curling tightly around the edge of the desk as the overwhelming pleasure coursed through you, making your entire body tremble. The intensity was almost too much, each wave of sensation crashing over you faster than the last, until you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

With one final thrust, the tension inside you snapped. Your back arched off the desk, your head falling back as a guttural moan escaped your lips. Heat rushed through you, your cum spilling out in hot, pulsing streams against your stomach, the release leaving you breathless and utterly consumed. The slick warmth spread across your skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of the office. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body.

Oliver slowed his movements for a moment, his gaze dropping to your stomach, where your cum glistened against your skin. His lips curled into a satisfied smile, the dark, hungry gleam in his eyes telling you just how much he enjoyed watching you come undone beneath him.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough and low, filled with both admiration and desire. But he wasn't done yet.

His hands tightened their grip on your legs, holding you firmly in place as he resumed his thrusts, this time with a newfound urgency. His movements grew faster, more erratic, the sound of his hips snapping against you filling the room as he chased his own release. The sight of you, still trembling from your climax, seemed to spur him on, his breathing ragged and heavy as he drove into you with relentless intensity.

The raw power of his movements left you gasping, your body still hypersensitive from your own pleasure. Each thrust sent another jolt through you, the rhythm pushing you to the edge of overstimulation even as it brought him closer to his peak. His head fell forward slightly, his jaw clenched, and his hands flexed against your skin as his pace quickened.

"God," he growled through gritted teeth, his voice rough and strained as the tension in his body built. You could feel him throbbing inside you, his muscles taut as he edged closer and closer. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a fiery intensity that made your breath hitch, and you knew he was seconds away from unraveling completely.

With one final, powerful thrust, his body tensed, his head tilting back as he let out a deep, guttural groan. His release came in hot, pulsing waves, filling your hole completely as his hands gripped you tightly, as though anchoring himself in the moment. The warmth of him, the way his body trembled slightly as he came, left you breathless all over again. His chest heaved with the effort, his gaze slowly returning to yours, softened now with a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something intimate.

As the tension eased from his body, Oliver leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—a stark contrast to the intensity of the moments before. "You're amazing," he murmured against your mouth, his voice still husky with the remnants of pleasure. The tenderness in his tone made your heart flutter, a perfect end to the wild, exhilarating ride you had just shared.

Suddenly, the faint murmur of voices drifted through the office door, snapping you out of your blissful haze. Your head whipped toward Oliver, your eyes wide with panic.

"Oh shit," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Oliver, ever calm under pressure, smirked slightly and grabbed your hand. "Come on," he said, tugging you down toward the space under the desk.

"This is not gonna work," you hissed, glancing at the scattered papers strewn across the floor—the remnants of your earlier passion—and the very visible evidence of what had just transpired. Your heart pounded as the sound of footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable clack of heels.

The door creaked open, and you froze, crouched under the desk with Oliver. The sound of heels clicking against the floor sent a chill down your spine as the familiar voice of Thea Queen, Oliver's sister and your boss, echoed through the office.

"Ollie?" she called out, her tone sharp and inquisitive.

From your vantage point, you could see her shadow moving closer, her figure pausing as she took in the mess you'd left behind. Papers were scattered across the desk and floor, and—oh no—your pants and briefs were still in plain sight, lying in a heap next to Oliver's discarded clothing. You could only imagine the look of horror that must be dawning on her face as she pieced it together.

"Oh my god, Oliver!" Thea exclaimed, the disbelief in her voice palpable. "If you're going to have sex in your office, the least you could do is lock the damn door!"

You turned to Oliver, glaring at him with an expression that screamed, I told you so! He met your gaze with a sheepish grin and shrugged, mouthing, "Oops."

"Duly noted," Oliver replied aloud, his tone surprisingly casual for someone caught in such a compromising position. His calmness would've been impressive if you weren't on the verge of wanting to strangle him.

From her position above the desk, Thea sighed loudly, clearly exasperated. "Unbelievable," she muttered before she turned toward the door. But before leaving, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh, and tell Y/N when you're both...dressed that those papers still need to be on my desk by the end of the day. Got it?"

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. "Gotcha," you managed to reply, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

With one final huff, Thea walked out, but not before locking the door behind her. The sound of the lock clicking into place was strangely reassuring, though it did nothing to ease your mortification.

As the silence returned, you turned to Oliver, who was now sitting back on his heels under the desk, a smug smile plastered across his face. "See? Everything's under control," he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Oh, whatever," you replied, shaking your head as the two of you began gathering your clothes and the scattered papers. Despite the embarrassment, you couldn't deny the absurdity of the situation—or the fact that you wouldn't trade it for anything.

#dc x male reader #oliver queen x male reader #oliver queen #stephen amell #stephen amell x male reader #oliver queen x male!reader #smut #oliver queen x male reader smut

83 notes · View notes

icypopz · 1 year ago

Text

caught in 4k ♡

↬ request from anon ; I love your writing for blue lock and i was wondering if you could write a Rin x actress reader when they're adults and they get caught by the media somehow. ↬ notes ; itoshi rin x gn reader ↬ from ice ; pretends like i haven't been gone for months... anyways here's my grand comeback that literally no one asked for but this req was so cute i rlly wanted to write it 🥹 hope u enjoy ! ↬ warning(s) ; none

please reblog w comments ! it helps a lot :)

itoshi rin has always been a private person. he rarely shares anecdotes from his life with his friends, let alone the paparazzi. his fans constantly complain that they're starved for content, because despite the fact that he's one of the most famous football players in the world, he somehow manages to keep his schedule entirely under wraps and often downright refuses to do interviews. (the only way to get him on camera is to invite him for a joint interview with sae.)

his tendency to keep his personal life a secret is exactly why it comes as such a shock when it's revealed that he's dating you.

actually, 'revealed' is the wrong word to use when in reality, the both of you were spotted leaving a popular restaurant together by a pesky journalist. he snapped pictures of rin holding your hand, offering you his jacket, opening the car door for you... and the next morning they were all over the internet, splashed across the front page of all the major news websites. #itoshi rin is in a relationship?! was the number one trending topic for days.

the amount of attention showered upon the two of you is actually unsurprising, considering how you've been at the peak of fame ever since you recently took on a role that went viral. pair that with the fact that you're dating the most mysterious football player? it's a miracle they didn't hear about it in space! both your fanbases were gushing about how adorable you are together and they're always eager for crumbs of interaction between you two in public.

in private, rin groans and grumbles about how annoying it is to have a spotlight shining on your dating life, but he's secretly happy that you both don't have to hide your relationship anymore now that it's out in the open. he likes the idea that everyone knows he's yours, and you're his.

in public, he's as aloof and cold as ever to every enthusiastic interviewer that dares cross his path. the only time he visibly softens is when they mention you, and a hint of a smile will curve his lips. rin gets angry if they even imply that you're leeching off his fame, or you're a gold-digger, or you're trying to get close to his brother through him - he never fails to set the record straight immediately. the two of you love each other, and maybe these journalists' time would be better spent trying to find someone to love them instead of trying to ruin someone else's relationship. (his pr manager is at her wits' end).

overall, rin is not too bothered by the fact that your relationship ended up becoming public knowledge. of course he would have preferred it to be on both of your terms, but now that it's happened he just rolls with it. as long as you're happy, he's happy.

help i swear i'll be active now HAHAHA i won't disappear for a year again ,,, and btw i cannot believe my last post was over a year ago tf

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠 © icypopz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way.

#[ my writing — ! ]#[ blue lock — ! ]#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin #blue lock

390 notes · View notes

ryuzakistoe · 2 months ago

Text

Her (Chigiri Hyoma x fem!reader)

fluff, angst, angst with happy ending, school au, fem!reader, swearing, jealousy-ish, mentions of his torn ACL, arguing

a/n: y’know what, i might do sae next bc i love him so much

(couldn't really find anything that matched perfectly but that's okay ig)

——

He was the definition of beauty, and everyone at school knew it. His glamorous reddish-pink hair framed his face perfectly, each silky strand falling just between his eyes, enhancing his striking features. Those eyes—an enchanting shade of deep pink—were captivating, complementing his overall allure.

He had the look of a model, with a presence that was nothing short of glamorous. Yet, he chose to dedicate his life to football. His striking appearance wasn’t just for show, though; his physical abilities had a purpose.

With remarkable speed, he was virtually unmatched on the field, moving with a swiftness others could only envy or fear. His speed was remarkable, setting him apart in every game, leaving his opponents in awe—or jealousy.

His extraordinary talent allowed him to score countless goals, making him the star of his team. Soccer was his life—his passion, his purpose—and he poured himself into it fully. Nothing else mattered, and he believed nothing ever would.

That is, until the day he met the new girl.

The moment she walked into his classroom, his world shifted. Her graceful entrance, her hair flowing gently beside her, radiated an effortless beauty. But that wasn’t all that captivated him.

As the morning sunlight bathed her in a warm glow, he couldn't help but notice her smooth, delicate skin and the quiet power of her small smile. His eyes widened as he took in her presence. When her beautifully colored eyes finally roamed across the room and landed on him, he felt a spark he’d never experienced before. Soccer was no longer the only thing that mesmerized him.

His breath caught quietly as his gaze locked with hers. To him, it felt like a blessing—an unspoken gift to have someone so beautiful meet his eyes and hold them. He couldn’t look away, as though she were a magnet drawing him in.

But he wondered: why wasn’t she looking away first? They’d been holding eye contact for what felt like an eternity.

The truth was, she found him just as captivating. She had never seen such beauty. His bright hair seemed to radiate, like a flower irresistibly drawing a butterfly. And his eyes…she couldn’t begin to describe them. They were a stunning shade of pink, like nothing she’d ever seen before.

She could have lingered on every fascinating detail about the boy, but the teacher’s voice snapped her out of her trance.

"Hello? Ms. L/n? Would you like to introduce yourself?"

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and offered a shy chuckle. “Yes, I’d love to. Sorry about that.”

The teacher gave a firm nod, indicating for her to begin.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Y/n L/n, and I'll be your new classmate from now on. I hope I get to become good friends with all of you.” She smiled warmly.

That smile…he still didn’t know why it affected him so deeply. But as he glanced around, he felt a flare of annoyance—he wasn’t the only one captivated by her. Others in the room seemed just as taken, drawn to her beauty like moths to a flame.

But he didn’t want them looking at her. She was meant for his eyes only.

But he knew it was almost impossible. That lingering eye contact they shared could easily mean nothing. For all he knew, her gaze might be set on someone else.

It was the first time he’d ever doubted himself. The thought of having a chance with her felt unrealistic. Even with his reputation and titles, his odds seemed to go from nonexistent to barely slim.

What good was such a tiny chance, anyway? It would take a miracle for her to feel the same. But he knew the difference between dreams and reality.

This was just a dream—a dream he wished, more than anything, could come true.

…🌼…

He let out yet another satisfied sigh as the ball brushed the net. Scoring a few goals, he thought, might be the best way to clear his mind, to shake off the image of that beautiful girl wasting her time with some average guy. The thought nagged at him enough that he’d come out here alone, hoping the rhythm of the game would numb it.

Unbeknownst to him, the very girl he was trying to forget was seated on the bleachers, watching him with a gentle smile. As he kicked the ball into the goal again, a sudden applause echoed from the stands.

He turned, and there she was—his mind’s distraction, clapping for him. His ears flushed red, realizing she might have been watching the whole time. Embarrassment mixed with something warm and unexpectedly sweet as he caught sight of her wide grin.

Had she been watching the whole time…?

He stood there, frozen for a moment, before grabbing the ball and moving to the far side of the field, trying his best to ignore her presence. But it was impossible. Knowing she was there, watching him, sent a surge of excitement through him.

Out of all places, she chose to be here. What a surprise.

Each time he tried to shoot, his footing faltered, his nerves fraying under her gaze. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the ball, his mind kept drifting back to her. How could she have this effect on him?

Finally, as he decided to pack up and leave, her image lingering in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the quick footsteps closing in behind him.

"Hey."

Startled by her soft voice, he spun around, eyes widening as he took her in.

And there she was—standing right in front of him, delicate and breathtaking. His mouth parted slightly as he absorbed the sight of her up close. Those beautiful eyes met his, and he felt his heart begin to race.

He couldn’t help but trace his gaze over her features, taking in her soft, gentle eyes, her plush, velvety lips, and the way her silky, flowing hair framed her face. Every inch of her seemed to radiate beauty, as if she were something out of a dream—perfect, unreal, ethereal.

He wasn’t the only one captivated. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him either, caught in the same quiet, electric moment.

She found him just as unreal, just as stunning, with every feature and trait as mesmerizing to her as hers were to him.

After a moment, she broke the silence. "Hey, nice shooting back there," she said, a bit awkwardly.

She continued, "My name’s Y/n L/n, by the way—in case you don’t remember. We’re in the same class–"

"Of course, I remember," he blurted out, interrupting her without thinking.

She paused, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Well, that makes things easier, doesn’t it?"

"But I still don’t know your name," she added, her voice gentle.

Realizing he hadn’t introduced himself, he felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. "Chigiri Hyoma," he replied quickly.

"Chigiri Hyoma, hm?.” she echoed, a warm smile spreading as she tried his name out, savoring it like it held a secret just for her. “I'll remember that.” she continued.

Chigiri felt warmth flood through him at the sound of his name on her lips. It made him feel a mix of nervous excitement and an undeniable happiness. He loved the way she said his name—so much, in fact, that he could listen to her say it a hundred times… no, ten thousand times.

But his thoughts scattered as he noticed her turning to walk away. A pang of disappointment settled in his chest; he wanted to keep talking, to hear her voice just a little longer. He’d do anything to make her stay, even for one more second.

“I’ll see you later, Hyoma! I hope we can become friends!” she called over her shoulder, turning back to flash him a smile.

His eyes widened slightly at her words. The thought of her wanting to come back, wanting to be friends, sent warmth spreading across his skin. It was more than he’d hoped for.

She really wanted to be friends with him? He wouldn’t let this chance slip by.

He’d do anything to get closer to her—maybe even as more than friends someday. But all he knew was that he wanted to be by her side for as long as he could.

…🌼…

Meeting at the football field became their routine, something they both cherished. They would talk about their passions, their dreams, or simply whatever crossed their minds, and each day felt like paradise for the boy. He looked forward to their time together, and she felt the same way. Their presence brought each other comfort, a kind of peace neither had known before.

As their connection deepened, so did their unspoken feelings. They left subtle hints, shared shy smiles, and even had a few intimate, awkward moments. But neither dared to confess their true feelings, each afraid of rejection. Chigiri, especially, doubted he was worthy of her; he convinced himself her heart was set on someone else.

Y/n convinced herself that all he wanted was friendship—nothing more. Doubts and excuses piled up in their minds, each of them pushing aside their "what ifs" to avoid risking the perfect friendship they had. They tried to convince themselves that this connection was fine just the way it was, even as they secretly longed for something deeper.

They told themselves this was fate. But, one way or another, the fate they believed in would take an unexpected turn.

…

"Go, Chigiri!"

Cheers erupted from the bleachers as Chigiri gained possession of the ball. His team was in the lead, and the opposing side was struggling to catch up. The moment the ball touched his foot, the crowd roared with anticipation—they knew he would score. No one ever doubted his speed.

As expected, Chigiri sprinted down the field, closing in on the goal with effortless precision. The noise from the stands swelled as he prepared to shoot, seconds away from sealing the game. This would be the winning goal, and he was the one to bring them victory. With each swift movement, he dodged every opponent who tried to block his path, his speed unmatched and unstoppable.

His eyes shone with determination as the goal opened up before him. But just as he charged forward, he suddenly collapsed. The crowd's roar faded into silence as they watched, stunned, as the player everyone thought would be the hero now lay on the ground, muffling pained cries.

Chigiri's strained grunts were the only sounds echoing across the field, while everyone else stood in shocked silence, absorbing what had just happened. After what felt like an eternity, a few people rushed onto the field to help him.

Y/n’s eyes remained wide, unmoving, as she stood frozen in the crowd. Her mouth hung open, unable to fully process the scene. She had only seen him suddenly fall, as if his own body had betrayed him.

It took her a moment to fully register what had happened, but before she could shake off her shock, her eyes met Chigiri’s. He was being carried off the field, his face tight with pain as they rushed him to get emergency aid.

In that brief, shared eye contact, Chigiri felt a wave of embarrassment and defeat wash over him. Shame gnawed at him, knowing she had seen it all—the near victory, the fall, the failure. He quickly looked away, unable to bear the sudden rush of emotions her gaze stirred in him.

But it was too late. She had already glimpsed everything in his eyes: the hurt, the frustration, the vulnerability. She couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity, yet this was the last thing Chigiri would ever want—from her or anyone else.

…🌼…

He sat on the hospital bed, staring blankly ahead, contemplating his life. Just hours earlier, the doctor had told him to take it easy—his ACL was torn. If he injured it again, his soccer career would be over; he’d never play again.

Fear overcame him. The thought of losing soccer gnawed at him—without it, he didn’t know who he’d be. Soccer was his entire life, his only focus. The whirlwind of thoughts consumed him, until he was pulled back by a knock at the door.

“Chigiri? It’s me… can I come in?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t want to see her—not after she had witnessed his collapse. How could he face her now? He couldn’t bear to see pity in her eyes.

He didn’t want her to see him like this—weak, defeated. Would she look down on him now?

“Chigiri…?” Her voice was gentle, hesitant.

He paused, wrestling with himself before he finally replied, “I… I want to be alone right now.”

Guilt pricked him as he said it, but he couldn’t face the expression she might have, full of pity or regret. That was the last thing he wanted to see.

“Oh… alright. I understand. I’ll be on my way then.”

The sadness in her voice only made the guilt grow sharper. He wanted her there more than anything, but he knew he wasn’t ready. As he heard her footsteps fade, he let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He leaned his head against the hospital bed’s headboard, closing his eyes. How could he possibly face her?

More than anything, he wanted her to come in, to meet her gaze, those beautiful eyes he’d come to realize he loved. But he wasn’t ready to see the look that might come with it—pity, concern, maybe even disappointment.

He groaned softly, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He felt completely lost, unsure what to do or how to feel.

He felt clueless.

…

Weeks passed, and he continued to turn away every visitor. Y/n had come by several times, hoping to see him, but each time, he declined. The guilt gnawed at him—he wanted to let her in more than anything, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

Now, navigating the school hallways on crutches, he silently prayed not to run into her in this state. But, as if fate had other plans, he spotted a familiar figure ahead.

“Chigiri?”

His body tensed at the sound of her voice. Though it was weird. Even though he’d hoped to avoid her, he couldn’t help feeling a spark of happiness at seeing her again.

But he couldn’t move. He begged his body to move, even just a single step, but nothing happened.

“Oh… Chigiri… are you okay?” Her voice was soft, filled with concern.

Just as he feared, he saw pity in her eyes. A flicker of irritation rose in him. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially not hers. He didn’t want to be seen as fragile, someone who needed special care or couldn’t handle himself. He wasn’t some helpless boy, and he didn’t want to be treated as one—especially not by her.

“Chigiri… please, just tell me. Are you okay?”

His jaw clenched, annoyance simmering. Why did it have to be her, the one he cared for so much, that he felt himself wanting to snap at?

“No, Y/n, I’m not okay. Just do me a favor and go away.”

He hadn’t intended for his words to come out so harshly, but the frustration bubbled over. What surprised him wasn’t that she could have easily left; it was that she stood her ground and responded just as fiercely.

“No, Chigiri. I’m not going anywhere. I’m sick and tired of you shutting everyone out and being selfish.”

Her words struck a nerve, igniting his anger. “If you came here to pity me or tell me you care, then just fuck off, Y/n. I don’t need that from anyone right now.” His voice was laced with venom as he focused on the ground, unable to meet her gaze.

She felt a jolt of shock and hurt at his response. Shocked by the audacity he had to speak to her like that and hurt because he was pushing her away when all she wanted to do was help.

“How could I not care, Chigiri? It’s only natural for me to worry about you,” Y/n replied, her voice steady.

“In such a pitiful way? No thanks, I don’t need that.” His tone remained unyielding.

He wanted to avoid this conversation; he knew it would only lead to a pointless back-and-forth. More than anything, he dreaded hearing the words he desperately didn’t want to come from her mouth.

“Why does that matter? I care about you, and ever since the accident, I’ve been worried sick,” she said earnestly.

“And I don’t need that! Don’t you understand? I hate being looked down upon. I hate not being seen as equal or better. I hate feeling helpless. I hate all of this, Y/n!” He shouted, frustration pouring out as he aimed to end the conversation.

He didn’t want to spend another moment here with her.

He hated arguing with her, but her inability to understand his feelings only deepened his frustration.

"But they care about you! I care about you! How is that such a bad thing?!" she shouted back.

"Well, I don’t need that shit from anyone! Especially not you!" he snapped, not considering the weight of his words.

Before he could take them back, something unexpected burst forth from her lips.

"Well, that fucking sucks, doesn’t it?! Because I care for you! I care for you so damn much! When I witnessed that accident, I felt a fear I’ve never known, and all I could think was, 'Is he okay?'

"You can’t stop the people who love you from caring about you! That’s just how it works because I love you, Chigiri! I love you so much! It hurts my heart when you shut me out. I try to be understanding—I really do. But what you’re doing right now is just flat-out shitty.”

His eyes widened as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Shocked would be an understatement; he was completely taken aback. He never expected an argument to lead to a confession—unless it truly was a confession.

Could he believe the words that had just come out of her mouth? Did she mean it the way he hoped?

Before he could ask, she seemed to read his thoughts. “Yes, Chigiri, this is a confession… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, especially if you don’t feel the same. I just had to say it—”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Now it was her turn to be shocked. The realization hit them both, a powerful wave of mutual feeling. Nothing could describe the rush in their chests, the connection that suddenly felt undeniable.

The tension that had hung in the air dissipated, replaced by a steadier sense between them.

They breathed easier now, lost in each other's gaze.

"I love you so much, Y/n. I'm sorry for shutting you out," Chigiri said, breaking the silence.

"It's alright, Chigiri. I forgive you." Y/n smiled softly, never breaking eye contact.

With determination, Chigiri slowly released his grip on the crutches and took a step toward her. To his surprise, he managed to walk unsteadily but steadily forward.

He gently cupped her face in his hands, taking in her features, as beautiful as he remembered. It felt like that day on the field, except this time he was holding her.

His thumb brushed softly beneath her bottom lip as he asked, “Can I?”

A simple nod was all he needed. He leaned in slowly, closing the distance and filling the emptiness between them.

This was their first kiss—clumsy yet sincere, a moment they would both cherish as they navigated through their feelings.

He took the lead, deepening the kiss as he pulled her closer, his right hand sliding to the small of her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, matching his movements effortlessly.

Eventually, they broke the kiss, and he gazed at her lovingly, his heart swelling with happiness. Her eyes sparkled with the same affection.

A smile spread across his face as he held her in his arms.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Chigiri."

a/n: no words besides that Chigiri is truly an exquisite masterpiece

He's so zesty tho wth😭

72 notes · View notes

pizzabiscuitwithglasses · 8 months ago

Text

Two people one bed trope with the mashle gang (nothing steamy, mostly crack)

So I recently fell into the mashle rabbit hole and there's not enough content so here are my thoughts about the main cast having to share a room with you, their crush:

Those who will accept to share the bed with you:

Dot is very excited about sleeping in the same bed with you but he has never done it before so he is very nerveous. He spends the whole night awake, sweating bullets, unable to move a muscle and barely breathing as he is anxious about disturbing your sleep. He will still boast the next day to his friends about the "hot" night you spent sharing a bed but everyone is calling out his bluff. 4 out 10 his immobility was concerning you had to check his pulse thinking he died but also don't talk big when you can't even hold a hand?

Lance would probably not care much. He hops in his pyjamas and sleeps on his side his back facing away from you, hugging a giant pillow with the picture of his little sister on it. Also he either sleeps with open eyes or some other uncanny sleeping stuff . 5/10, good night sleep but the lack of physical proximity was underwhelming plus the sleep talk took you by surprise

Lemon pretends to be surprised even though it's no coincidence you have to share the same bed (she swears it's a honest mistake tehehehe). It would be like a nice pyjama party but she will keep asking you questions all night long. If you are still able by some miracle to fall asleep despite her never ending talk, you will wake up after a short moment felling a pair of glowing yellow globes eerily staring at you as if they were piercing your soul... 5 out of 10, too much activity and staring with not enough sleep.

Those who prefer jumping in the mouth of a volcano to jumping in the same bed with you:

Of course Mash breaks the door to your room and is shocked to be greeted by one big bed instead of two small ones. However, don't you worry, he puts the door back in its frame and will guard it to make sure no will disturb your sleep. You used magic to fix the door? Huh, he just remembered he wanted to try a new training. He does an invisible chair and sleeps like that for the whole night. He really doesn't want to invade your intimacy 6/10 confused but got the heart in the right place.

Finn tries complaining to the staff about the mistake which makes you think that maybe he doesn't like you. Him becoming a blushing mess when confronted with the reality of sharing a room makes you reconsider your first impression. He deeply appologizes for the uncomfortable situation and you cannot convince him to get in the bed with you. He chooses to sleep on the chair. 7 out 10 a true gentleman.

Bonus: (because why not)

Like his brother Rayne tries to make the management fix the issue. His intimidating looks and impressive title do not take him very far. Despite your reassurances, he refuses to take advantage of the situation. He sleeps in the corridor, his back leaning on your room's door. 8 out of 10, a chivalrous knight.

You think that Orter would give the hotel an earful when the promised double room is just one king bed instead but the sight makes his brain short cut. He looks at the bed then back at you, announces he will get a drink before leaving and never looking back. He doesn't invite you and drinks the night away at the hotel bar all alone. ?? out 10 because you were kinda hopeful he was coming back and that would spark the begining of your love story but at the same time you appreciate his thoughtfulness about giving all of the space you need??

Ryoh would moonwalk out of the room and go back home to spend the night with his family. He would probably use light magic or teleportation IDK. What I do know is that sharing a room let alone a bed with somebody else would be cheating and ain't no way that man gonna cheat on his baby mama!! 1000 out of 10 for our loyal king 🤴

#mashle #mash burnedead #finn ames #dot barrett #lemon irvine #lance crown #rayne ames #orter madl #orter mádl #mashle orter #mashle x reader #mashle magic and muscles #finn mashle #ryoh grantz #mashle fluff #mashle finn #mashle fanfic

179 notes · View notes

audreyscribes · 9 months ago

Text

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🔮 HECATE: Goddess of Magic, the Mist, Crossroads, Necromancy, the night and moon🌙

Author's note: Hello everyone! In lieu of posting the major gods demigod headcanons, here is the minor gods version!As usual these headcanons will contain what it's like being claimed and what it's like for the respective god and cabin, followed by a small story between you, the reader, and the respective demigod of that god. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! [PJO MINOR GODS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST] Disclaimer: To new fans or strictly TV watchers of the PJO series, future spoilers for the entire PJO series books will be referenced. Read at your own risk.

Out of the ‘minor’ gods, a child of Hecate is powerful and just as dangerous as a child of the major gods. As powerful as a child of Ares, Athena, and Apollo, but closer to a child of the Big Three.

When you get claimed, a rolling mist rolls in and you feel power sparkling at your fingertips. You always have felt the magical power within you but with this claim, it courses through your veins. The spell you cast at your claim is a tell-tale to your half-siblings what kind of magic wielder you are. One time, there was a child of Hecate who summoned the dead beneath their feet and everyone had a meltdown thinking it was another child of Hades until Chiron pointed out the claim symbol belonged to Hecate, and Necromancy is within her domain. Which can be utterly terrifying or cool. Just don’t actually mess with Death itself and stay in your lane, unless you want either Hades or Thanatos having a word with you; either or both. Nico di Angelo becomes a common sight around the Hecate cabin as he acts as a sort of liaison for his father’s domain.

Hecate’s domain is very broad and large, and you guys have a lot to figure out. Aside from magic, every child of Hecate has a mixed bag of what powers they inherited from Hecate’s domain. Some have others that others don’t. You have shared headaches with the children of Hermes, who are in a similar boat.

As cheesy as it might sound, your power is stronger at night and when the moon is out. Of course a full moon is when you’re at peak strength, but what people don’t know is that your powers can be at peak strength depending on the phases of the moon. This is determined by finding out what phase of the moon the day you were born on, and the phases leading up to that face you feel stronger but the phases afterwards feel less intense for you. If you were born on a full (and/or old) moon, well, more power to you. Literally.

While not all common, there’s a high percentage of children of Hecate being born in the evenings and night.

“With great power there must also come great responsibility” - Spiderman, Stan Lee. These words are similar to the Sword of Damocles, that Mr. D and Chiron tells you and the Hecate cabin that power cannot simply be enjoyed for its privileges alone, but necessarily makes its holders morally responsible for what they choose to do and what they fail to do with it. As a child of Hecate, with magic at your disposal, you have to work and study hard to control the magic and command it to your will, however it is a heavy burden to bear and magic can be not only bring miracles, but can take on a form of its own if their wielder isn’t convicted enough.

Along with magic, the mist is your next inherent power. You help maintain the mist between the world of the gods and the mortal realm; maintaining the balance. The power of the mist comes naturally to you and you can use it to create illusions or manipulate the veil over mortal eyes. However, be careful of it because if you mess with the mist too much, you might pull the mist’s veil over a mortal’s eyes too powerfully and affect their mind, distorting it; it’s cautioned to only manipulate the mist that is still tethered to reality. Worse, you also might get lost in it yourself; or worse find yourself between the borders between the living and the dead. Limbo if you will.

Hecate may seem a bit cold and solitary, but she does care for you. Especially after the 2nd Titan War, where many of your unclaimed (read: unrecognized by the camp) half siblings had perished during the war. You might get the occasional words of advice with magic, magical items, or what your siblings have collectively understood as vague magic teaching moments. You definitely feel her guiding hand when you command more magic that threatens to lash out at you, and you feel her hands guide you to mould the magic in a way you want like a potter’s hand. At least one thing is for sure, Hecate loves all her children equally…even including Lamia and Circe who are pretty hostile to you guys.

On that note, you have definitely performed a magic spell you’ve seen on TV, Book, Movie, or Game, and proceeded to tear it apart on how it should not have worked and how it should work before creating either an entirely new spell or an even better one. At the very least, you have a laugh and lead you into discovering and creating new spells.

You can use magic with your hands, but you could also use a wand or staff, or what have you. With wands though, it has never been easier walking around among mortals and spell-casting magic, and playing it off from certain franchises or being a very dedicated DnD player. The latter is very true and you have no shortage of LARPers.

You know the roles like “The Fairy Godmother”, “The Wicked Witch”, “The Wizard”, and etc? Oh yeah. Every child of Hecate starts to come into one of these roles and leans into it completely. What is yours?

You and your siblings have an awkward relationship with Lamia, who was a former daughter of Hecate, who became a monster, and is the reason why all monsters can find half-bloods. Sure it was out of spite at Hera for killing all of Lamia’s children, but like….really? You’re not entirely sure if you guys are safe from Lamia’s curse but on the other hand, given the amount of monsters you’ve encountered and the latest news from one of your half-siblings, Alabaster who was hunted down by Lamia from Gaea, it’s really up in the air. There’s a long research by all the Hecate cabin on how to break this curse or at least mitigate it.

When you get claimed, you feel the veins in your body growing both hot and cold, with power sparking wildly from your fingertips. The small well of bubbling power that had always been in you suddenly burst open and was overflowing, like the seal on it had been ripped off. Wind was kicking around you with the ground trembling and cracking under your power. You could see the mist rolling in and twisting around you with the wind, cutting you off from the outside world.

With what you could see outside it was utter chaos. People were running around doing damage control with a few brave, offensive demigods taking the front as they knocked away any flying debris and were keeping your magic from breaching the red zone as they batten down the hatches.

You weren’t sure what to do with this power but you couldn’t just turn the tap off either, you had to release it somehow. But just shooting raw magical power wasn’t desirable since the magic could take on the form of the cognitive power of those around you, whatever that was.

You tried to remember a spell you were familiar with. Something that was familiar to you that was almost as easy as breathing. You remembered it but the power of the magic within you was too much. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, the extension part of you had to move how you want like you were discovering growth pains, your limbs feeling almost feeling foreign to you. You tried to squeeze the magic into form but it pushed back between the gaps of your fingers like you took too much clay.

You started to breathe heavily as sweat clung and soaked your being, the strain becoming unbearable. Then you heard yelling as you felt something open beside you. Then you felt someone press up against you, hands grabbing yours that was also flowing with magic.

You gasped and looked at the person, seeing a girl with dark hair and with glowing green eyes.

“What-” you tried to say to say how and why she was here and that she shouldn’t be, but then before you could see anything more, she gripped your hands harder and you felt her magic flowing into yours, as if smoothing the gaps, helping you grasp your raging power.

“Do you know a spell?!” she yelled over the raging, howling wind.

You stammered to reply but nodded instead as she nodded back. “Alright! Use that spell! I’ll help you enforce it!”

You were confused but you could feel the magic about to explode soon so you pushed everything aside and focused on what was at hand. You remembered that spell from earlier, taking deep shaky breaths as you tried to manipulate the magic into a form. You could feel it oozing from the gaps of your fingers again but with the girl’s help, she smoothed it and followed your hands, shaping it with you.

You took form and you threw it in the air as the energy took on a form, taking the wind and mist with it. All tension in your body left you and disappeared with the spell , making you collapse immediately. You were out of breath and out of focus so you weren’t really paying attention to what was happening. All you heard was a boom, sprinkles, oohs and ahhs with gasps and peals of laughter.

From your starfished position on the ground, you heard feet crunching on the ground beside you and you peaked to see see the girl from earlier, hands on her hips with an exasperated smile on her face with a thin sheen of sweat; even she looked a bit winded.

“So that’s what kind of magic wielder you are” she commented, crouching beside you.

“What?” you tiredly said, confused.

She gestured to the air, “This kind of situation isn’t unusual for children of Hecate, even if yours is a little bit on the extreme side. Every child of Hecate that gets claimed has a spell that they have to unleash and we figured out the first spell they instinctively use is a good indicator what kind of magic wielder and person they are.”

“Oh” you uttered dumbly as you took in the open sky above you. The adrenaline was just dying down and your mind caught up. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you sat up and looked at the girl. “Wait, how do you know this?”

The girl grinned and stood up, holding her hand out to you as you clasped it. “My name is Lou Ellen Blackstone, daughter, head coven, and cabin leader of the Hecate cabin” she introduced herself as she helped you up.

“Oh…wait, does that mean-” you asked as Lou Ellen nodded.

“Yup, you just got claimed by Hecate which makes us half-siblings” she said as she patted your shoulder and helped you steady yourself as you headed towards the Apollo kids, “Let’s get you checked up just in case. Suddenly being able to have that much access to your magic takes a whole lot of you.”

“So this isn’t new?” you asked as a child of Apollo checked you over.

“Nah. While some children of Hecate can access their magic before they get claimed, when Hecate claims you, it suddenly feels like the cap on our magic is removed. Don’t worry too much about it, with some practice and integrity, you’ll get a hold of your magic soon enough. In the meantime, you have the entire Hecate cabin to help you.”

You smiled at the thought as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep due to the exhaustion.

220 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 11 months ago

Text

Yearling - Ch. 28: Newcomer

Life changes for you in Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-26 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst because duh. Canon-typical violence. Reference to past SA. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 14.1k (SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

October, 2027

“Is everything OK?” You frowned as you watched as Savvy pushed her scrambled eggs from one side of her plate to the other, her head propped against her hand and a flat look on her face.

She shrugged and moved the pile of eggs again.

“Need to eat before school,” you said, not really paying much attention to your own plate.

“Why?” Savvy snapped, looking up at you. “So I can have energy to go sit in a chair all day? No thanks.”

You sighed, jaw tense, and set your fork down, crossing your arms and leaning on the table.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she looked back at her plate and moved the eggs again.

“I might be able to help,” you said, smiling a little at her from across the table. “Believe it or not, I was a teenager once, too. And life here isn’t all that different from the life I had when I was your age.”

“Yeah, so you’ve said,” she muttered, an edge in her voice.

You watched her for a moment, feeling more distant from your daughter than you ever had when she was physically so close.

Becoming a part of Jackson had been a rough transition for Savvy. It just had taken you a while to see it.

At first, you were so relieved to have her with you again that everything else was white noise.

For a bit, that day at the stables, you were rooted to the ground. You were afraid to move too far, like if you left that space she’d vanish again. You couldn’t bear to stop touching her to walk home, your arms around her shoulders and holding her body to yours the entire way.

She clung onto you, too, early on. There was so much she didn’t know and so much you didn’t know that she didn’t know. Things about life in Jackson that were innate to you - muscle memory from a time the crumbling world was forgetting - were completely foreign to her.

Savvy had the same problem with electricity you had when coming to town, sitting with her fingers in her ears when you weren’t talking for the first few days she was there. She was amazed by so much. She’d seen and read about things like stoves and refrigerators, showers and CD players but she’d never used them. It was like she existed outside of the modern era, approaching it all with skeptical caution as she adjusted to the reality she now lived in. You did your best to guide her through it, showing her everything and explaining how it worked as best you could.

The two of you didn’t leave the house the first week she was there. You didn’t need to, food boxes appearing again. It was a good thing, too, because you were too busy catching up on everything that had happened in the years you’d been apart and getting to know each other again to venture out.

Savvy had never been captured by Mitchum and his men. They’d gotten close to her once, one of his men the first person she ever killed. She managed to slip away but had to leave Nike behind.

After that, she wanted nothing to do with people. She knew how to run and how to hide, how to get away quick when she heard or sensed something coming. She had become an expert at being alone, living off the land, crossing all over the region so she was never in one place for long enough to tip off any of the more powerful groups. It was a miracle that Joel had found her at all.

Getting adjusted to the people of Jackson was a struggle. She’d only ever been around maybe half a dozen people at once before, when you’d run into a family making their way through your territory and you decided it was safe for her to meet them.

Here, there were hundreds.

“Why are there so many of them?” She asked quietly the first time you left the house, her arm looped with yours as you passed a cluster of kids running toward the playground, a haggard looking man chasing after them.

You frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“The people,” she said, watching the kids for a moment with a small frown on her face before looking back to you. “There’s… there’s so many of them. There’s not enough space here, how does everyone live here?”

You smiled a little.

“This is what people did all the time before,” you said. “People like us were the odd ones.”

She crinkled her nose.

“Maybe that’s why the world ended,” she said. “Not enough room for us all.”

“I think you’ll like people once you get to know them,” you said, giving her a little squeeze. “They’re good people here. And you always had fun playing with the kids we met before…”

“That was a long time ago,” she said, voice sharp.

“I know,” you said, trying not to let the hurt at the thought of your time with her being long ago now. “But you were always good with people. Definitely better than I was. I think you’ll like it, once you understand it.”

“Maybe,” she said, skeptical. “I don’t know. I just… I kind of like it. Being by myself.”

“That’s OK,” you replied. “Doesn’t mean you can’t like people, too.”

“Right,” she nodded, looking at the ground.

She really had not enjoyed starting school.

Savvy just came with you to the stables when you starred back at work again. She immediately bonded with the horses and spent an hour just standing next to Perseus, her head pressed against his large shoulder, her eyes closed.

You tried to not push her too fast or too far. You knew it was a big adjustment, that she would need time. But you also knew how important this time of her life was. She’d been totally alone for so long and you wanted more for her. She should have a chance to get to know kids her own age, to make friends, to fall in love, to have a life that she looked forward to and shared with people she cared about. Instead, she was hiding away.

So you brought her to meet Susan, the woman who taught most of the older kids in Jackson, one afternoon. She was sitting at her desk, papers in front of her and gray hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head with a pencil holding it in place. She smiled when you came in, Savvy against your side with her brows together and her features drawn tight. You were reminded of when she was a little girl and you were first teaching her how to kill. How she wanted so badly for things to stay the way they were.

“I thought I might be seeing you two soon,” she smiled and introduced herself and gestured for you to sit on the other side of her desk. “Why don’t we get to know each other a little bit?”

She asked Savvy a few questions and Savvy looked at you before answering each one, her hand tight on your knee, your hand in the middle of her back. Susan gave Savvy a few work sheets and pulled you aside while she did them.

“Do you have any idea what her skill level is?” She asked quietly. “I’ve never worked with a student who’s coming into this quite like she is…”

“I’m not sure,” you said, looking back toward the door that separated you from your daughter. “I tried my best when I was with her but I was never some great student, didn’t like school much and I never went to college, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing…”

Susan reached out, her touch catching you off guard and you had to fight not to jump, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You did everything you could,” she said. “No one would expect you to run an elementary school when trying to survive the end of the world. But students backslide over summer break let alone something like this. Years on her own not keeping up with what she was taught and no formal schooling to begin with… she might have a lot of ground to cover.”

You just nodded, trying not to blame yourself for whatever Savvy was missing. Even though you knew, deep down, it was your fault.

But she hadn’t let her skills totally lapse in the last few years. When she stopped and checked houses and stores for clothes and shelf stable food, she also found books to read and something to write in. Her language skills were advanced and she had a good understanding of biology. But her math was rudimentary at best and her history knowledge was spotty, limited to areas that had caught your attention or hers through the years.

“I can put her with the other kids her age,” Susan said, her voice low as Savvy browsed the book shelves at the back of the classroom. “We’ll see how she does. I’m more worried about the socialization than I am anything academic. She’s not used to being around her peers or more than one or two other people at a time, it might be a lot for her…”

“Do you think it would be better if I kept her home?” You asked, the sting of tears at the back of your throat. What if you’d doomed your daughter to a life of loneliness because you hadn’t sought out a place like Jackson when she was little? What if she never had a chance to experience things beyond just survival because you’d kept her away from it?

“No,” Susan said, more definitively than you’d expected. “But it might be better to… ease her into the school experience. Just an hour or two at first and build up to it, plan to have her join during quieter periods when there’s lecture and not group work quite yet, that sort of thing.”

You nodded slowly, jaw tight as you watched Savvy pick a book off the shelf and turn it over to read the back. Susan rested her hand gently on your shoulder, making you jump and look back at her. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Children are resilient,” she said gently. “They adjust and adapt. She will be OK.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free.

“Mom?” Savvy called.

You quickly dried the tears and sniffed.

“Yeah?”

“Can I bring this home?” She came over and handed you the book. It was Little Women. “It sounds good…”

“It is good,” you said, clearing your throat and hoping she couldn’t hear the change in your voice. “But it’s not my book to lend, you’ll have to ask Ms. Parker.”

“Right,” she said, turning to her but looking more to the side than directly at her. “Is it OK?”

“Promise you’ll bring it back when you come to my classes?” Susan asked, smiling and trying to meet her eyes. “And that you’ll take good care of it?”

Savvy just nodded.

“Then yes,” she said. “You can borrow it.”

She smiled tightly and turned to go before you stopped her.

“Savvy,” you said. Like you, she’d forgotten what it was like to interact with other people after being totally alone for so long. You’d taught her please and thank you when she was little but, once it was just her and the animals, the habit had slipped away.

“Right,” she said, turning back and actually looking at Susan this time. “Thank you.”

Susan smiled.

“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it and I’ll see you soon in class.”

Savvy looked to you and you put your arm around her waist and guided her home.

She’d taken pretty well to school, all things considered. She liked to learn and was an engaged student, according to Susan. But she got bored easily and wasn’t the most tolerant of other students’ tendencies to goof off or talk during class. She also didn’t understand when the other kids teased her.

Sean, one of the older boys, sneered at her once and called her the wild girl.

“So?” Savvy had frowned.

“You’re not civilized,” he’d said. “Shouldn’t be here with us humans, should be out there with the fucking animals…”

You only knew about it at all because Ellie overheard the incident and handled it herself.

“Ellie!” You’d gaped at her when she told you as she leaned against the stall you were in. “What did you do?”

“Beat the shit out of him until he went home to cry to his mommy,” she sneered the last word, mocking and righteous.

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to hug her or scold her.

“You’re an adult now,” you said, going back to brushing down Shimmer. “You really shouldn’t beat up children…”

“OK first of all, he’s 16,” she said. “Second, he’s got a foot on me, not my problem if he’s a little bitch…”

“And thank you,” you cut her off. “For protecting her.”

She just shrugged.

“I was the wild girl once,” she said. “Sucks sometimes.”

“She OK?” You asked, realizing that you’d never thought you’d need to navigate things like bullies with Savvy until that moment.

“Fine,” Ellie shrugged again. “She didn’t seem that bothered by it, actually. Pissed me off more than her.”

You nodded slowly.

“I can introduce her to some people who don’t fucking suck,” Ellie said after a minute. “And she can come hang out with me and Dina and Jesse sometimes.”

“Isn’t she a little young to be running around with y’all?” You frowned.

“Not really,” Ellie shrugged. “And we won’t let her get into too much trouble.”

You sighed, brush frozen on Shimmer’s side. The horse huffed, turning back to look at you, a sense of judgement in her eyes.

“Try not to be a bad influence on my kid,” you said, glancing at Ellie, who smirked.

“Bad influence? Me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ellie did introduce her to some of the older kids who were still in school and Savvy started staying after school to hang out with them a few times per week. There was one boy, Kyle, who she started talking about a lot, a small smile tugging at her lips when she did.

She also started going to movie nights and even to the mess hall with people besides you, easing into knowing people. She even slept over at Ellie’s once, leaving you anxiously pacing your house all night, not able to shake the feeling that she should be here and she wasn’t. There was the lingering thought that, maybe, you’d only ever imagined her coming back at all and you’d been alone all this time. You left the lamp on by the front door for the first time since she’d come back and you slept on the couch, waking with a jolt when she came home the next morning.

But she’d started pushing back against you for the last two weeks. She answered questions in as few words as possible, she pushed her curfew when she went out with her friends, she snapped at you when you asked her to help around the house.

You were taken aback by it. You’d never had conflict like this with her before. Of course, it was hard for her to rebel much when there was nothing else for her to rebel WITH, no other people or forbidden substances to act out with. But she’d also only been 11 when you’d been taken. She was 15 now. You weren’t sure how much would have always happened this way and how much she was picking up now that she was around other teenagers.

“Do you not want to go to school anymore?” You asked gently from across the table. Her hair was extra wild today, her all but shoving you away when you tried to braid it before heading to the mess hall for breakfast. She’d refused all attempts to contain it, curls springing in every direction.

“Is that what I said?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at you.

“No,” you said. “But I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling, honey. I can tell you’re upset by something and…”

“Were you ever going to tell me about you and Joel?” She snapped.

Your heart stuttered.

“What?”

“You and Joel,” she said. “You were together, right? Were you ever going to tell me about that?”

“I… I don’t…” you just blinked for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “Where did you hear about that?”

“Something Ellie said tipped me off,” she replied. “Don’t think she realized she was giving away some big secret…”

“It’s not a secret, honey, it’s just…” you sighed. “It’s not… it’s not important right now, you’re what’s important and…”

“Am I?” She smacked her fork down on the table hard enough that you startled away from the sound. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, chest getting tight. “Savvy, you’re the most important…”

“Did you even try to find me?” She cut you off. Her eyes were glistening and her face was drawn, tight and hurt. “Did you even bother to really look? Because I looked for you. I looked for you for years, Mom! I searched and I searched and I thought I’d find you eventually. I thought you must have really been hurt to have not come and found me so I needed to find you because my mom would never have just left me like that.

“After a while, I thought you must have died, that’s the only thing I thought would have kept you from finding me again,” she kept going, voice a little louder, the people around you at the mess hall awkwardly glancing away. “And that hurt and I missed you and I felt… I felt so guilty about that because I knew that if I just hadn’t been there you’d still be alive and you were only gone because of me and that was the only thing that would have kept you away from me. But I was wrong, you were just… you were here the whole time, here having some happy life with some man like you had before and… did you forget about me? Once you found this place was I just nothing to you anymore?”

“No!” You just gaped at her from across the table. “No, that’s not what happened, that’s not at all…”

“I have school,” she stood up, picking up her plate of half eaten eggs as she did.

“No,” you shook your head, standing up, too. “No, we need to talk about this, if this is how you’ve been feeling, we can go home and…”

“Do you want me to go learn freaking algebra or not?” She snapped. “You’re the one who says it’s so important, is it important or not?”

“It is, but…”

“Then I’ll see you later,” she said, a little quieter and calmer now. “Besides… I don’t think I want to hear what you have to say right now, anyway.”

You just stood there, watching your daughter stalk off toward the school.

It was hard to focus at the stable that day. You kept looking up, hoping Savvy would come in. You weren’t sure if it would have been better to chase after her or give her space and you tried to remember what you would have wanted from your mother when you fought with her but your relationship with Savvy had never felt like your relationship with your mother. You felt so different from your mother that you sometimes wondered if you’d been traded at the hospital, another girl out there in the world who loved all the things she did living the life you were supposed to have. But Savvy had always felt like another part of yourself, independent but never fully separate.

“You caused a ruckus this morning,” Julie said when she came by the stable in the afternoon. You sighed and she perched on the wall of a stall before handing you an apple. You took a bite of it and sighed, leaning next to her.

“Heard about that, huh?” You asked, turning the fruit in your hand.

“Think the whole town has,” Julie took out an apple of her own. “Sorry.”

“Shouldn’t be too surprised,” You sighed.

“Want to talk about it?” She asked.

“Yes, in great detail,” you said sarcastically. You were thankful for Julie in that moment, though. After Savvy had come to Jackson, Julie had reached out to check in on you and, in spite of the awkward moment in the orchard outside of town, you’d grown to be friends. Which was something that you’d sorely needed as you navigated this unknown landscape of your new relationship with Savvy.

Julie snorted.

“Yeah, should have known better than to ask that. You OK?”

“I just wish I knew what to do,” you sighed. “I don’t know what she needs, I don’t know how to make her feel better, I don’t know how to make her understand…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose for a moment, sighing again.

“She’s a teenager,” Julie said kindly after you were quiet for a second. “Teenagers are hard. You remember being a teenager…”

“Not as well as you do,” you teased and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes, you’re very old,” she teased back before turning serious. “She might just need space. She’ll get past it. They always do.”

You just nodded as Persephone nudged you with her large head and you surrendered the last of your apple to her.

“I just don’t want to lose her,” you said, petting the horse’s velvet nose as she chewed. “I lost so much time already, I don’t want to lose any more…”

“I know,” she said gently. “She will come around. I know she will. And in the mean time, we can drink about it.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, think I might need that.”

Julie hung out at the stable for a bit as you shoed a horse, talking to you about the date she’d gone on the day before with Karen, which had surprised you.

“Karen? Really? Wouldn’t have thought…”

“Yup,” Julie smirked a little. “What can I say, I have a good eye.”

“Are you just turning the women of Jackson?” You teased. “Wasn’t it Beth last month?”

“Maybe I am,” she teased back. “Someone needs to, Beth went out with Henry for like two months. Fucking Henry. It might be the apocalypse but options aren’t really THAT limited…”

It was a nice distraction, listening to her talk about her love life and the petty property line war happening between two of her neighbors as they went back and forth about whether or not one of their clothes lines pushed into the other’s yard and the new cocktail she was planning to roll out soon at the Tipsy Bison.

“She really will come around,” she said, dropping all pretense as she got ready to go get changed for her bartending shift. “You two love each other. She’ll understand eventually.”

You just smiled tightly.

“Thanks,” you said. “It really does help…”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said. “And if you come by the Bison tonight, I’ll even let you be one of the first to try the new drink. Take your mind off of family trouble, guaranteed.”

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You finished up early at the stable and, instead of heading for the mess hall like you normally would, you went home, hoping that Savvy would be there. But it was quiet when you came in and you sighed.

“Savvy?” You called anyway, hoping she would answer.

You took off your boots and went upstairs, knocking on her bedroom door all the same. She didn’t answer then, either.

So you took a shower, trying to not linger on what she said that morning. How she thought you’d abandoned her, forgotten her, thought that there was anything in the world that was as important as her.

You’d never told her about Mitchum. It didn’t feel right, you didn’t want her to have that in her head. But you weren’t sure how to explain your absence without it. It had never occurred to you that she would think you chose to be apart from her, as though you’d choose anything over being with her. But she did.

The chill of fall was settling in so you actually dried your hair before getting dressed and seeing if, maybe, Savvy had come home while you were in the shower. You went back to her bedroom door and just happened to look down as you went to knock. There was just a bit of paper poking out from below the door. You frowned and picked it up, pulling it out from below the door. On the paper was a note in Savvy’s haphazard scrawl.

Need space, it said. Find you eventually.

“No,” you breathed and flung her door open without bothering to knock.

Her bedroom was neat and organized and everything that she’d brought with her that she considered hers was gone. All her clothes, her backpack, the books that were on her nightstand, the carvings that she’d made. All that was left in the room that hadn’t been there when you moved in were two small carvings you’d made her: two deer, one large and one small. Both were rough, the limbs not quite the right proportions, but you’d been happy to make them, sitting next to her on your porch while you both worked in a way you’d never really done before.

“Well, I’m still learning,” you’d said, putting the figures in her open palm a few weeks earlier, before this cold distance had started growing between you. “And I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you, you’re just a natural…”

“No, they’re really good, Mom,” she’d smiled. “I love them!”

They were there on her nightstand, the larger one knocked on its side as though the table had been jostled on her way out the door.

“No,” you shook your head, heart racing. “No, no, no, no, no…”

You took off, going two stairs at a time. She was gone, she’d left, she’d taken her things and left and you hadn’t even been able to find her the first time and she was gone and this time she chose it and Joel had been the one to find her last time, not you. Joel found her once. He could find her again.

You ran to Joel’s so fast you didn’t even close the door behind you as you left. The sun was setting and you almost ran into a couple walking home hand in hand as you careened around the corner. You barely even paused at Joel’s door, the fear and warning signs that usually took hold this close to his house buried deep below a fresh horror that your mind couldn’t wrap itself around yet. You ripped the screen door open and went to grab the knob of the main door when it opened before you touched it, Joel standing there in his boots, jacket half on.

“Bambi…”

“She’s gone,” you panted for breath. “Joel, she’s gone, she left, she left a note and took her things and I need your help, please, I need your help, I’ll never ask you for another thing, I promise I…”

“Bambi,” he said again, voice gentle. His big hands gently cupped your shoulders and pulled you inside. “It’s OK, I know, she’s here, she’s OK…”

“She’s here?” You grabbed his arms fingernails digging into the thick muscle of his biceps as you searched his face. “What do… she’s here?”

“She’s here,” he said again slowly, carefully. “She’s alright, I was just about to go find you and tell you so you wouldn’t worry. Need you to take a deep breath for me sweetheart, you’re gonna pass out if you’re not careful…”

You just nodded and let him guide you to the couch, your hands still clutching onto him. Standing on your own felt uncertain, like you were newly shaped and your legs at risk of collapse under the weight of yourself. Ellie came out of the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest, a worried look on her face.

“Where is she?” You asked, looking from Joel to Ellie. “If she’s here…”

“She’s at my place,” Ellie said, shifting awkwardly, putting her hands in her back pockets. “She was really upset, she was there when I got home… I told her I was going to get us something to eat, I should get back…”

“Is she OK?” You asked, moving to stand but Joel held you in place. “Can I see her? I need to see her…”

“That’s probably not a good idea right this minute sweetheart,” Joel said. He sounded so calm.

“I need to see my daughter,” you looked at him, heart racing again. “You can’t… she’s my daughter, I need to see her, you can’t just keep me from her, she…”

“Not keeping you from her,” Joel cut you off. “But it sounds like she’s hurtin’ right now…”

“So you need to let me see her!” You yelled and Ellie’s eyes got wide, glancing quickly to the back door. “If she’s hurt I need to take care of her, she’s my child she’s not…”

“I know,” Joel said. “Physically, she’s fine. She’s upset, her feelings are hurt. Goin’ after her right this second might just make things worse. Think you need to give her some space.”

“I’ll look out for her,” Ellie said quietly. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quick but… I’ll look out for her. At least for tonight, Bambi. She’s… It’s like how I was with Joel. If you push her too far she might not stay with us and I don’t know if we could stop her if she decided to go, she’s stubborn as hell.”

“She’s OK,” Joel said, his hands still firmly on your shoulders. “She’s safe, she’s with Ellie. She’s alright.”

You just nodded and tried to breathe through it. Joel turned Ellie, still holding onto you. You were thankful for that, his hands a grounding force that were holding you inside yourself. It seemed like you might split into disparate beings without him.

“Why don’t you get on back, baby girl,” he said to Ellie. “Take some of the leftovers from the fridge, keep an eye on her. Don’t let her go anywhere alone, OK?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I will. I’ll take care of her, Bambi. I really will.”

You nodded again and closed your eyes, listening as Ellie gathered things from the kitchen, the back door slamming behind her. You took a deep, shaky breath and opened your eyes again, lashes wet.

“Joel,” you said, voice thick.

“Gonna hold you,” he said gently. “That OK?”

You trembled and nodded and he pulled you against his broad chest and you collapsed against him, sobbing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

“You’re alright,” he said gently, one thick arm looping around your waist, the other going around your shoulder so his hand could cradle your head to him. “She’s OK, you’re both alright…”

You clung to him, your arms snaking up his back, fingers clutching so hard at his shoulder blades that part of you was worried you were hurting him but you couldn’t make yourself stop. It was a struggle to breathe through your tears, gulping in air that smelled like Joel’s skin and cedar and laundry soap. It was like your body forgot to be afraid of him now, so desperate for something to hold on to that it didn’t matter anymore.

His hand traced a slow, soft pattern from your hair down your spine before starting over again and you felt his lips press into the crown of your head, lingering there as you shook in his arms.

“Shhh,” he soothed, starting to rock you gently. “S’alright. I’ve got you and her, you’re alright.”

He said it over and over and you concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest, the smell of his skin, the gentle motion of him. Eventually, you quieted, hiccuping as your tears slowed and your breaths caught up with your body. His rocking slowed, too, but he kept holding onto you, his nose nestled in your hair until your grip on him loosened and he relaxed as you sat back from him.

“You with me?” He asked gently, one hand still loosely on your arm. He went to take his hand back but you caught it and he froze.

“I’m sorry but…” You fought to not hyperventilate again. “If… can you…”

“Do whatever you want with me, sweetheart,” he said and you nodded, moving so you were tucked against his side and your head was on his chest. He sat, stock still, as you guided his arm around your waist and you pressed yourself closer. It felt better with him here like this. He’d brought Savvy home, he’d take care of her, you could trust that. You could trust him.

“What happened?” He asked quietly after you’d settled against him.

“She found out that we were together,” you said, your voice raw. “And she just… she thinks I forgot about her, that I was just here and happy with you the whole time she was out there alone and…”

“You didn’t tell her what happened to you?” He asked softly.

“No,” you shook your head into his chest.

“Baby…”

“She’s 15,” you said softly. “She doesn’t know how bad it is out there, she didn’t grow up with shit like girls before, she never had to learn to be afraid of men. I still remember the first time a grown man grabbed my ass when I walked by and I was 13 and I don’t… she doesn’t need to know about all that, Joel. I don’t want her to know about that and I don’t want her to look at me and think about that, she can’t…”

“She should know that you tried,” he said, his hand going in a slow, easy path from your shoulder to your elbow. “She should know that you fought for her.”

“I don’t want her to know,” you whispered, tears slipping from you again even though it seemed like you shouldn’t have any more left in you. “Please, I can talk to her some other way, please don’t tell her, please…”

“Won’t tell her,” he said gently. “S’OK Bambi.”

You remembered the look on her face this morning, the anger and the hurt there and you pressed a strangled sob into Joel’s chest as he held you closer.

“She hates me,” your voice shook. “And I don’t blame her, I should’ve tried harder, I gave up on her, I let him lie to me and…”

“You did everything you could,” Joel cut you off. “And you protected her. She was alone out there but she survived because you let her escape and you taught her what she needed to know so she could live. You did everything you could, baby, everything.”

You nodded, even though you didn’t really believe it, and curled in on yourself, your whole body against him now.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked softly. “I don’t want to be far from her, I can’t…”

“Course,” Joel said. “I’ll go make up the bed for you, you can stay there, I’ll take the couch…”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I want to be down here, if she comes inside…”

“OK,” he said gently. “Want me to stay with you?”

“Please,” your fingers tangled in his flannel.

“OK,” he said again. He just held you for a while before getting some blankets and a pillow out of a cupboard you didn’t remember holding them before and you realized it had been almost half a year since you’d been in Joel’s house. Things about it had changed. So much time had passed but really, none at all. Joel got you water and made you drink two tall glasses of it and eat an apple before he stretched out on the couch and you folded yourself in around him. It had been months but your body still remembered how to wrap around his to sleep, where your head fit best against his chest, how your leg best hitched over his, how his arm draped over you.

“I can’t lose her, Joel,” you whispered into the dark. “I can’t, not again. I have to fix this.”

“It’ll be OK,” he said, his fingers trailing over your bicep. “She’ll understand. Don’t give up, it’ll be OK.”

The next morning, Ellie came to the kitchen with the excuse of needing tea and found you and Joel still asleep on the couch. She assured you that Savvy was still there and had asked to stay for a while. Ellie had already said yes.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, head still fuzzy from sleep and the emotional turmoil the night before.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Joel said as Ellie headed out. You opened your mouth to fight him on it but he held up a palm, silencing you. “Just to lay down some ground rules. Not gonna tell her she needs to go back to yours or tell her anything about what happened to you. Just gotta set some expectations, that’s all. OK?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, OK…”

He got you more water and draped the blanket around your hunched shoulders before he went back to Ellie’s. It felt like he was gone an eternity before he came back, settling in beside you on the couch again. His hand found the middle of your back, moving over you in slow, soothing circles.

“She’s still pretty pissed,” he said softly. You nodded. “Told her she can stay as long as she wants but no boys spending the night, needs to go to school every day and show me her progress, she’s gotta eat three meals a day and be in for the night by 9 every night.”

You nodded, your fingers knotting and twisting together.

“OK,” you said. “That’s… that’s good, she’ll go for that, I think.”

“Seemed receptive,” he said. “She’s a good kid, raised her right. She’ll come around. It’ll be OK.”

You nodded and pressed your face into his shoulder, letting his soft flannel soak up your tears yet again.

It was the start of a new kind of friendship with Joel. You came by every day now after you were done at the stable, Joel giving you a report on Savvy, both what she told you and how she seemed. He said he was trying to gently nudge her into talking to you again but she got worked up when you were mentioned.

“Don’t push her,” you said after you’d been in this strange limbo with your daughter for two weeks. You’d hardly slept or eaten and you could feel yourself starting to almost seep out of your body, little pieces floating away into the ether the longer you were separated from her when she was so close. You wondered how Joel had survived it as long as he did with Ellie. “I don’t want to hurt her any more than I have…”

“Should think about telling her, Baby,” Joel said softly.

“I know you think so,” you said, arms crossed tight over your chest. “But… I can get her back without that, she doesn’t… she doesn’t need all that in her head, Joel, she doesn’t.”

He nodded slowly and sighed as you headed back to your cold, almost empty house.

When it had become clear that Savvy wasn’t going to come home in just a day or two, you’d gone to where the working dogs of Jackson lived and asked to bring Gattling home with you. You’d been so excited to see her once you could actually wrap your head around the fact that she’d come back with Savvy, too, but she’d always been a working dog. She was used to having something to do all day everyday and you knew she’d be happier helping on guard duty or protect the livestock with regular visits from you and Savvy. Now, though, you picked her up on your way home so you wouldn’t be alone.

That was an adjustment, too. Gattling was cagey around you when she first came to Jackson, skeptical of you even though she clearly remembered you. But she’d warmed up to you again now and greeted you with a wagging tail every night. She followed you obediently around your house and curled up next to you in bed, sighing her heavy dog sighs as she settled in to sleep and you thought that this was what life had been for your daughter for the past four years. Having no one but her horse and her dog because you’d left her to fend for herself in the wilderness.

It took until November for you to feel at all adjusted to this new way of things with Savvy. You saw her in the mess hall, scheduling your day so that you had the best chance at seeing her in the morning or the evening, just to catch a glimpse of her and see that she was whole and happy. You tried to catch her eye and hoped she’d do something besides glare at you eventually, that you’d be able to actually talk to her at some point. It hadn’t happened yet.

But you couldn’t let yourself completely break down into nothing.You knew that. So you started trying to eat something and tried to do beyond the bare minimum in your day. Julie came by in the afternoon and you took a walk. You talked to Joel about something outside of Savvy. You even played your guitar - though you made the mistake of playing Sweet Child of Mine and dissolved into tears, Gattling licking your face and whimpering as you lay curled on the cool wood of your living room floor.

You’d found a semblance of a life again, taking comfort in knowing that Savvy was alive and healthy, even if you didn’t get to hear her voice or see her smile. You were focusing on that in the afternoon when you heard Ellie coming toward the stables, her voice oddly chipper and friendly, odd enough that you frowned and watched the doors as she came in, hoof pick in your hand as you worked on shoeing a horse.

“Stables are here,” Ellie said, leading a man who had to be close to Joel’s height inside. “You’re starting up patrol and if you end up in the regular rotation, you’ll probably be here a lot and you’ll get assigned a regular horse to take out. I usually go on Shimmer… Oh, that’s Bambi, she runs the place.”

The man turned so that you could see his face and you froze, grip on the pick tightening.

You were surprised you hadn’t recognized him from behind. You always thought you’d know him immediately, sense when he was even remotely close to you. But he’d made it here, to the heart of Jackson, into your stables, and you hadn’t known. You’d heard that someone had come in with a patrol the week before but you hadn’t heard a name or seen anyone new in town since then. You weren’t worried about it, you had enough else on your mind without concerning yourself with a new arrival.

But you should have been. You should have been very worried.

“Bambi,” Ellie smiled brightly, leading the newcomer toward you. You lowered Ares’ hoof slowly to the ground and shifted the hoof pick to your left hand, holding it so tight you were sure your knuckles were white. “This is Cody, he’s going to start out on patrol soon, he’s going out with Joel soon…”

He stood there, looking at you, his jaw tight for a moment. After what felt like a small eternity, he held out his hand.

“Bambi, is it?” He asked. “Nice to meet you.”

You didn’t take his hand. The thought of touching him turned your stomach.

“Ellie,” you said, not taking your eyes off him. “Shimmer is out in the paddock, do me a favor and take her around once, make sure she’s walking OK after I shoed her and bring her in.”

“What?” Ellie laughed a little. “I’m kind of in the middle of…”

“It can wait,” you snapped, still watching him. “I can introduce him to a horse, do what I’m telling you to do.”

“Alright, Jesus,” she muttered, stomping off to obey. Cody watched her go before turning to you.

“Good to see you,” he smiled a little. “Wasn’t sure if you’d actually made it…”

He moved to close the gap between you and you stepped back on instinct, your heart beating so fast it drowned out the sound of his voice. You could remember exactly how he felt inside of you, how his breath felt on your skin, the self righteous look on his face because he thought he was better than the others because he didn’t get off on hurting you. Your head spun.

“Stay the fuck back,” you hissed, adjusting your grip on the hoof pick.

He frowned. “Why? Come on, you know I’m not dangerous…”

“Like fuck I know that,” you snapped. “You’re just as dangerous as the rest of them. What, are you here to do recon?”

“No,” he snapped. “I left.”

“Good for you,” you said. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Don’t think that’s the way you want to talk to the guy who saved your life,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Feel like you owe me a little more than that…”

“Don’t owe you a goddamn thing,” you said. “Didn’t kill you that night. Far as I’m concerned? Life for a life, we’re even.”

That was a lie but he didn’t need to know that. You wished you could bring yourself to kill him but you didn’t think you could. He had saved your life, had been kinder to you than most of Mitchum’s men even if he had hurt you. You weren’t sure if he deserved to die, you didn’t think you could handle killing him.

“Hardly counts as even,” he said, taking a step toward you. “You know I wasn’t like them, you know I was different…”

Another step and something inside you snapped. It didn’t matter that you were in Jackson, that he had saved your life by getting you away from Mitchum, Cody was a threat. You knew what he was capable of and he was here with you and your daughters.

You met him in the middle, catching him off guard. He moved to touch you in some way - hug you, grab you, you weren’t sure - and you threw your left arm over his throat, your right into his chest, shoving him back against a stall, putting one knee between his legs so you could hit him in the groin if he tried to move and pressed the tip of the dirty hoof pick to his throat.

“What the fuck!” He yelped, his chest heaving.

“Gonna give you this one warning,” you said through clenched teeth. “You stay away from me, you stay away from my girls. I catch you even glancing their way, let alone talking to or touching one of ‘em? I will rip your goddamn throat out, do you understand me?”

“How am I supposed to know who your girls…”

“Any girl here,” you seethed. Your stomach turned at your body being so close to his but you forced yourself to stay on him, keep the pick pressed to his throat. “But Ellie and the girl she lives with? They’re mine and if you think the fact that I owe you my life would save you if you touched them, you got another thing comin’.”

You heard the scrape of the door and you stepped back from him, chest heaving, lowering the pick. He stayed back against the stall, his eyes wide and darting from you to the door.

“She’s walking fine,” Ellie said, leading Shimmer in from the paddock. “Don’t know why you were worried, anyone knows how to shoe a damn horse around here, it’s you.”

She put Shimmer in her stall and went toward Cody but you stepped in front of her, putting your arm out to keep her behind you. Cody’s eyes narrowed.

“What…” Ellie began but you cut her off.

“You supposed to show him anything else?” You asked, not looking back at her and keeping your eyes on Cody.

“Just here,” she said. “How the stables work, shit like that. But…”

“I think he’s fine from here,” you cut her off again. “Why don’t you go to the school, walk Savvy home.”

“Bambi?”

“Go, Ellie,” you snapped.

“Fine, Jesus,” she muttered just as Joel came in and she ducked around him. Your eyes darted his way but you looked back at Cody almost immediately, not willing to let him out of your sight. You saw Ellie go out of the corner of your eye, keeping Cody pinned to where he was with your gaze. Your grip was still tight on the pick.

You could feel Joel’s eyes on you as he moved slowly to stand at your back. You could feel him there, close behind you at your shoulder, the heat and strength of him there.

“Everything alright here?” He asked, his voice deep, empty of the warmth you’d come to associate with him.

“Fine,” Cody said, his eyes darting up to Joel before going back to you.

“He was just leaving,” you said. “Weren’t you.”

He just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “I was.”

“Better get moving then,” Joel said, dark and dangerous, like every word was a threat.

Cody kept his eyes on Joel then, slowly moving around you, staying out of arm’s reach until he had a clear path to the door. Only then did he turn his back to you, putting his hands in his pockets and closing the door behind him.

The second he was gone, the pick slipped from your fingers and hit the concrete of the stable floor with a clatter. You couldn’t breathe. It took you a moment to realize you were shaking, your heart racing. You clutched at your chest and stumbled to the stall you’d thrown Cody into, collapsing against it as you struggled to get enough air.

Here. Cody was here, in Jackson. He knew you, he knew where you were, he’d been with Ellie, he was where Savvy was…

“Bambi,” Joel’s hands were on you, one at your ribs and the other taking yours, his thick, long fingers closing around your own completely. “Gotta breathe for me, baby, gotta breathe through it…”

You just nodded and tried to listen but it wasn’t working.

“Here,” he said, guiding your hand to his chest and holding it there. “Match me, OK? Gonna push everything out first…” you exhaled with him, nodding as you did. “Now in.”

He breathed in slow and deep and you tried to keep pace with him, focusing on how he felt next to you, his heartbeat below your hand, the warmth of his body.

“Talk to me,” he said once your breaths had slowed and your shaking had eased. He stopped holding your hand to his chest but you left it there, holding onto him. “What’s wrong, what did he do? He touch you?”

“No,” you shook your head, taking a deep, shaky breath. “No, he didn’t touch me. It’s fine, it’s OK…”

“He did something,” Joel said and you looked up at him, into those soft, brown eyes that had been home for so long and you missed him. You missed him so much you thought your chest might crack open with it, the ache in your heart too big to be contained by your skin and ribs. You missed how safe you felt with him, how much he felt like home. You moved slowly, cautiously, until your arms were looped around his waist. He hesitated and then he was enveloping you, clutching you close and tight and you could hear his heart racing in his chest. You felt his lips and nose brush the top of your head before he tucked you below his chin, his large hand cradling your skull as though you were some precious, treasured thing.

“Talk to me,” he said again, quietly, holding you closer. “What’d he do? You can tell me, I’ll handle it…”

“Nothing that you can handle,” you said, your voice thick.

“Watch me.”

“Joel,” you nuzzled closer to him and breathed deep.

“Tell me,” he said. “Let me help you, take care of you. Please.”

You just held onto him, focusing on him as he swayed just a little with you, almost like you would rock a restless child.

“He one of them?” He asked eventually, deathly quiet.

You pulled back from him ever so slightly, looking up into his eyes and you watched the warmth slip away from them as he answered the question for himself.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No,” you shook your head, holding him tighter. “No, you can’t…”

“Why,” he was straining to stay calm, you could feel it in his body. “Don’t matter that he’s here, I’ll kill him in the street like the goddamn animal he is…”

“He saved my life,” you said. “He… he hurt me but I wouldn’t be here without him, he got me out, I owe him my life, I can’t… he can’t die because of me. I told him he needs to stay away from Ellie, from Savvy…”

“Baby,” he breathed holding your face in his hand and you closed your eyes, trying to stay focused on him and not lose yourself to the panic that was still at the edges.

“I’ve handled it, Joel,” you said after a moment, opening your eyes. He was still watching you intently. “If he tries something with them I’ll kill him myself but you can’t kill him, Joel. Not now. He can’t die because of me, not after he saved my life. I can’t live with that. Please.”

He sighed and pulled your head into his chest, his cheek pressing into you.

“Won’t kill him,” Joel said. “But I should. And I swear to God he even glances at you or the girls I will rip him apart. I’m sorry, baby, but I will.”

You just nodded into his chest and he held you close and you wished you had one of his shirts again so you could wrap yourself in the scent of him and keep his warmth and safety close when he left.

Ares’ large head nudged your shoulder and he huffed and you laughed, separating from Joel enough to see him there, one hoof off balance from the others.

“Right,” you laughed and sniffed a little. “I was shoeing you before we were interrupted, wasn’t I?”

His head bobbed once in what you’d call a nod if you didn’t know better and you dried your cheeks with the back of your sleeve, separating from Joel and picking the hoof pick up from where you’d dropped it in your panic.

“Thank you,” you said to him quietly.

“Course.”

“Not just for this,” you said. “For everything the last few weeks. With Savvy. I don’t… I don’t know if I could have gotten through it on my own and…”

“Always gonna look out for you,” Joel said. “Doesn’t matter if we’re not… Always going to take care of you how I can.”

You nodded and he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking to the side at nothing.

“Should probably get back,” he said. “I was just passin’ by, thought I’d… I dunno, say hi. Or… somethin’. Didn’t have any business here… Anyway. I’ll see you tonight, give you the Savvy update after I check in with her.”

You nodded again and he gave you a sad, tight smile before leaving you to your work.

***

It took everything Joel had inside himself to not go find Cody and kill him.

He’d seen the man a few times as he was introduced around town and he’d seemed decent enough. Tommy had been encouraged by his shooting test results, happy to have another skilled man out on patrol.

Fuck, how was he supposed to let this man come back from patrol alive?

He’d hurt you. He terrified you, that much was clear. Joel wasn’t sure he wanted the details of what Cody had done to you but, whatever they were, Joel wanted to do at least ten times that to him. He wanted to do more than kill him. He wanted to feel the life leave his body and know that he’d made it happen. He wanted to hear him hurt, he wanted to make him beg. He wanted him to be helpless and at his mercy and he wanted him to know why. That his actions had brought his pain, that he was only receiving what he was due.

But he couldn’t hurt you.

It seemed like you were finally, maybe, starting to trust him again. You’d slept on him the night Savvy came to Ellie’s, you’d wanted him to hold you today. It was like you were finding comfort instead of fear with him now. He couldn’t hurt you, especially not now.

Joel showered when he got home, changing out of his shirt and putting on a clean one. If you did think he was safe, if the way you calmed when your face was against his chest was any indication, he might be able to help you this way, too.

The girls were home before he was and he went to Ellie’s, the music inside loud enough that he could hear it through the door. He knocked once and he heard a high pitched giggle before Ellie called for him to come in.

Savvy was laying broadside on Ellie’s bed, her head dangling over the side of it, her curls brushing the ground, a comic book laying across her chest. Ellie stretched to turn down her boombox, a notebook open on her lap.

“Hi Joel,” she said in her lightly teasing tone. “Here to do the daily old man check in?”

“What can I say,” he replied. “I’m a creature of habit.”

“Well, I helped out at the mess hall this morning,” Ellie said. “Getting ready to go out on patrol with Dina in a few days…”

“First overnight patrol without me,” Joel nodded. “Still feelin’ OK?”

“It’s getting cold, probably won’t even see any infected,” she said. “And haven’t seen shit for other trouble lately. Think we can handle some scary deer and shit.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Joel cautioned, though he smiled a little all the same. “But I think you’ll do just fine.” He turned to Savvy. “And how about you?”

She sighed and he was reminded for the millionth time since Savvy had moved in with Ellie of Sarah. It hurt less now, looking at her. He was sure it was sharper because she was only a year older than Sarah had been when he lost her, her hallmarks of teenage independence the same as any other teenager’s, including his daughter’s.

“Still hate math,” she said. “It’s boring. Why do I need to know how to calculate stuff like that? Maybe it was important before but it’s useless now.”

“Need people who can do math to help build and maintain things around here,” Joel said. “Afraid that means you have to study it.”

“Ms. Parker says I’m catching up,” she said. “I borrowed a new book, Catcher in the Rye…”

“She talked to a boy,” Ellie drew out the last word, smirking.

“Ellie!” Savvy shot up, twisting herself around on the bed so she was facing Joel and Ellie. She grabbed the pillow at the head of the bed and threw it at Ellie, who caught it and laughed. “Shut up!”

“Boy, huh?” Joel asked, treading lightly. His hand clenched into a fist at his side anyway. “Boy from school?”

Savvy sighed and nodded and Joel’s fist relaxed. A boy from school, not a new man in town.

“His name is Kyle,” Ellie teased.

“Ellie!” Savvy hissed, eyes wide. “Shut up!”

“Long as he’s a nice boy,” Joel said, trying to picture a kid in town named Kyle. “Respectful. All that.”

“He’s fine,” Ellie said, serious now. “Kind of a dork but fine.”

“Shut up,” Savvy said again, more pouty this time. “I think he’s cute.”

“Well you and your bad taste can have him,” Ellie shrugged.

“Thank you,” Savvy said, smug, relaxing a bit onto the bed and picking up the comic book that had fallen to the side. “But that’s all. Not much to report.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Good. Just… One more thing. Need you girls to do me a favor.”

Savvy just nodded but Ellie frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. Joel took a deep breath.

“Need you girls to stay away from that new man in town,” he said. “His name’s Cody. He tries to talk to you, come tell me or your mom…”

“Why?” Ellie’s frown deepened. “What happened?”

“Just tryin’ to be safe,” Joel said. “Don’t know him yet, you’re both young. Want to make sure you’re protected is all.”

Savvy just shrugged and nodded, already getting distracted by the comic book. Ellie was still frowning.

“Ellie.”

“Sure,” she said eventually. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he nodded. “You girls behave. Let me know if you go out, OK?”

“OK,” Savvy said, flopping back down on the bed and holding the comic book over her head.

Joel turned to leave and the volume on the boombox went back up but Ellie caught his arm as soon when he wasn’t even half way back to the house. He frowned, looking down to her.

“What’s up baby girl?”

“What’s wrong with Cody,” she said more than asked.

“Ellie…”

“It’s something,” she said. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Joel. Bambi practically kicked me out of the stable today, you’re telling me to stay away from him… what’s the deal.”

He sighed and tightened his jaw.

“Bambi’s come across him before,” he said eventually. “Doesn’t trust him. Best for you girls to stay away for now.”

She watched him for a moment, skeptical.

“You gonna let him live?” Ellie asked eventually.

Joel could have hugged her, his daughter so like him in this way, for better or for worse.

“For now,” he said. “She doesn’t want him dead so, for now, he keeps breathin’. On thin ice, though.”

Ellie nodded.

“I’ll look out for Savvy,” she said, turning to go back inside before turning back to Joel. “I think you should kill him. And if I see him try to fuck with either of them? I’ll do it myself.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond, just going back in, Joel hearing a laugh from from just beyond the door before he headed home himself.

You came by a few hours later, seeming much more like yourself when you did. He gave you the rundown and you seemed happy about Savvy talking to a boy, something that made Joel raise his eyebrows.

“No, Ellie’s right, I’ve seen him around, he’s kind of a dork,” you smiled a little. “Harmless kid. But… I want that for her, you know? Want her to have someone she can have a crush on and feel giddy about…” You looked, longingly, out the window to the backyard.

“She’ll talk to you about it,” Joel said. “Once she figures herself out. She’ll tell you.”

You nodded and smiled tightly at him and went to leave when he stopped you.

“I… uh…” he awkwardly cupped the back of his neck, not entirely sure what to do with his hands. “Earlier, at the stable… I know, back before, you liked the coat and things because of the smell and… anyway.” He picked up the shirt he’d changed out of just before you came over, the one he’d put on clean that afternoon, and handed it to you. “Thought… seemed like it might be helpful again. Wanted to help, if it was.”

You took the folded shirt and watched him as you lifted it, slowly, to your nose before you closed your eyes and breathed deep before you clutched it to your chest, crossing your arms tightly over it.

“You gonna be OK over there?” He asked. “Can always stay here if you’re worried…”

“I can’t let him drive me out of my house,” you shook your head. “Besides. Got Gattling. She’ll rip his throat out and save me the trouble.”

“If you change your mind,” he said. “Can always come over here.”

You nodded and held the shirt a little tighter.

“Thanks, Joel,” you said. “I appreciate it.”

He hardly slept that night, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the fear on your face the second Cody was gone. How you’d trembled and cried, how you were reduced to that much fear by his presence.

It didn’t matter what Cody had done for you, Joel was going to take care of it. Saving your life didn’t forgive his sins. He couldn’t have a man like that here with you, with Ellie and Savvy. He was going to take care of it.

Joel beat you to the stables that morning and you frowned when you walked up, hands in the pockets of your jacket. He could just see a hint of the plaid flannel of the shirt he’d given you the night before peeking out over the collar.

“You’re usually not this much of an early riser,” you said, letting the two of you into the stable. “Patrol doesn’t leave for another hour…”

“Figured I’d get the horses,” he said.

“Joel.”

“Not lettin’ him near you,” he said. “Not if I can do something about it.”

You just nodded and started getting Ares and Cassiopeia ready. Joel took over Ares, giving the horse a good scratch behind the ears as he worked.

“You should take Ares,” you said, adjusting the saddle on the mare. “He’s harder to control, I have no idea about… about his abilities. Can’t risk a horse getting hurt because a rider isn’t up to snuff and on an animal that’s too powerful for him.”

“I’ll make sure I bring your horses back alright, Bambi,” he said gently, watching as you busied yourself, checking buckles more times than you normally would.

When you handed him the reins, your fingers lingered on his palm.

“You can’t kill him,” you said quietly, all but begging him with your eyes. “Please. I can’t have that on my conscious…”

“Not gonna kill him,” Joel said, reaching out slowly, cautiously, to cup your cheek. You closed your eyes and pressed against his palm and he had to resist the urge to kiss you. “I’ll bring him back in one piece. Promise.”

You nodded against him and he led the horses outside and waited for Cody to arrive.

Joel had to fight to be civil to the man. He introduced himself, apologized for the awkwardness the day before as the two of them made their way outside the walls of town.

“Really not sure what got into her,” he laughed after he and Joel had been riding for a few hours and were taking a break, getting ready to turn around and head back. “Know her well? Bambi, think they said her name was?”

Joel shrugged.

“Really not trying to get on people’s bad side this early,” he said and Joel could see how he’d lasted as long as he had in town. He was easy going, charming. It was hard to picture him running with raiders. “Never found a place quite like Jackson, don’t want to spoil it too soon.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” Joel said, resting a hand on the pistol at his side. “You won’t be stayin’ long.”

The man frowned.

“What…”

“Know who you are,” Joel said, straining to keep his voice calm as he stepped closer. He only had about two inches on Cody and he was at least a decade older but that didn’t matter. If it came down to a fight, Joel knew who would win. “Know what you did. You ain’t stayin’ in Jackson.”

Cody’s confused face turned angry and entitled and Joel could see him as a raider now. The switch flipped quickly from charismatic man who could talk his way into places into one who wasn’t bothered by hurting and killing to get what he wanted.

“I don’t know what she told you but…”

“Didn’t need her to tell me,” he said. “Knew from how she was looking at you. You’re one of ‘em and you hurt her.”

“No,” he snapped. “No, I never fucking hurt her, I was always careful, never was like what they were…”

“You really think that matters?” Joel asked, his voice flat. He tried not to think about what he used to be, the things he used to let happen. “Think it makes a damn difference to me?”

Cody lunged for him, trying to punch Joel in the face but he dodged him easily. Joel shoved the other man to the ground before catching his shoulder with his boot, forcing him onto his back. Joel dropped to one knee, putting it in the middle of Cody’s chest and yanking his gun from the holster, tossing it over by the horses before looking down at him, his head cocked to the side as the man’s hand scrambled over Joel’s leg, clawing for some weakness he wouldn’t find.

“Can’t just kill me,” he panted up at him eventually. “They’ll know…”

“They wouldn’t,” Joel shook his head. “Just say we ran into infected, you got bit, had to shoot you. Unfortunate loss but the merciful way to go. Hell, they’d even console me for havin’ to do it. No, killing you’d be easy. But I’m not gonna do that.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed. “Just do it, get it over with.”

“Nah,” Joel shook his head, clenching his jaw for a moment. He had to remind himself that he couldn’t kill Cody. It didn’t matter how good it’d feel to pull pain from his body, to watch him scream and beg, he’d promised you. “If I was going to kill you, it’d be slow. Painful. Only get to kill you for what you did once, better be damn sure I’m gonna enjoy it. I’d enjoy it plenty with you.”

“You’re a monster,” he managed through gritted teeth.

Joel shrugged.

“Maybe. But I’m her monster. And she asked me not to kill you. Said you got her out so she owes you her life. This is her repaying that, understand? If it were up to me, you’d be dead today. But that’s not what she wants.

“So here’s whats going to happen,” he continued. “We’re gonna ride back to Jackson like nothing happened at all. You’re gonna stay in town for two days and you’re gonna talk to people. You’re gonna be restless, you’re gonna say you miss being outside. Two days after we get back, you leave with what you came with, no more. You’ll go far away from here and you won’t tell a single goddamn soul about our town or about her. I catch you so much as looking at her or our daughters? I’ll kill you in the middle of town, I don’t give a shit. When you go, you’ll stay gone. Ever come back? I’ll kill you. I find out you told anyone about where she is? There ain’t a corner of this planet you’ll be able to hide from me. I will hunt you down like a fuckin’ dog and you’ll wish I killed you now, just the way I want to. I bein’ clear?”

Cody just glared at him and Joel sighed before grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“I asked you a question,” Joel said, leaning in close. “Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Repeat it.”

“I leave in two days,” he said. “And don’t breathe a word.”

Joel released his hair.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t want to hear another goddamn sound from you the rest of the day unless it’s warnin’ me about infected because I’m taking your fuckin’ guns. And you best keep her name out of your goddamn mouth the next two days or I’ll make you regret it. Understood?”

He nodded once and Joel lifted his knee from his chest before hefting him to his feet.

“On your fuckin’ horse,” he said. “Move.”

The rest of patrol was, at least, easy. Joel spent most of it keeping an eye on Cody but did notice signs of a large group of infected moving through somewhat recently, most likely migrating south for the winter. He made a note of it but he doubted it’d be worth following up on this late in the season.

When the two of them got back to town, Cody still looked off balance. Angry, entitled, like he was thinking of picking a fight he wouldn’t win. Joel just took his horse outside the stables.

“Remember what we talked about,” Joel said. “Two days from now and you’re gone or I’ll make you go.”

“Got it,” he seethed, looking murderous. Joel didn’t care.

“Good. Get the fuck out of here.”

You were waiting inside the stables, perched on the side of Perseus’ stall, stroking his neck. You stiffened when Joel came in but relaxed when you realized he was alone. You were wearing his shirt.

“Where’s Cody?” You frowned, coming and taking Cassiopeia’s reins. “Joel, you promised…”

“He’s fine,” Joel cut you off. “Sent him home. Told you I’d let him live so he’s alive. No intent of changin’ that.”

You nodded slowly, starting to take the horse’s tack off.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy…”

“It’s your decision,” he replied. “Don’t matter what I want.”

You nodded again and the two of you slowly, methodically stripped down the horses side by side.

Joel saw you catch a glimpse of Cody in the mess hall the next day, he saw the shiver pass through you as you spotted him and all but ran for the doors instead of staying for breakfast. He had to fight the urge to kill him then, knowing how he still hurt you. But he resisted. It should be up to you, he wasn’t about to take that from you.

It was a relief when word spread two days later that Cody had left in the night. He’d even given the guards at the gate a note to pass to the council, saying exactly what Joel had told him to say. That he missed being outside and didn’t feel like Jackson was a good fit, that he’d be no trouble and doubted he’d come back.

“Weird that he’d just leave like that,” Maria said as she, Joel and Tommy sat around her and Tommy’s kitchen table, making sure they had all the coverage they needed for the patrol leaving the next morning. It was going to be a big one, a few groups going out overnight, including Ellie with her friend Dina. “Rough on us, too. He was a solid patrol prospect…”

“Can’t force a man to stay who don’t want to stay,” Tommy shrugged, bouncing William on his knee, trying to settle him. “His spot is open now though… think Bambi would be OK to fill in? Olivia can cover the stable for a few days and that’s one of the easier routes, s’why we were sending the new guy out on it. And it’s with Julie, her and Bambi are friends, right?”

“Doubt she’d mind,” Joel shrugged. William reached and groped for him so he held out a finger and smiled as the toddler wrapped his chubby hands around it. “Been a bit since she was on a patrol.”

“Perfect,” Maria said, noting it in a journal and on a map. “You two go to the lookout to take over for Jesse and Eugene, Ellie and Dina can cover this territory, Bambi and Julie here. One last go round for the big stuff before the snow flies.”

“Assuming we make it back before snow flies,” Tommy said. Maria scoffed. “Bein’ serious, it’s on the way, can feel it.”

“Just because your joints are getting old…” she said and Tommy laughed.

“Don’t start on his age,” Joel said, getting up and stretching. “Don’t even want to think about what that means for mine.”

“You goin’ to the dance later?” Tommy asked. “You and Bambi been looking a bit closer lately…”

“Don’t start on that either,” Joel said. “And figured I’d stay home. Worried I’d cramp Ellie’s style if I went, kid seems pretty damn excited.”

“We can keep an eye on her,” Maria said. “Savvy, too, especially since she’s coming here tomorrow while you and Ellie are patrolling.”

“Appreciate that,” Joel nodded. “See you in the morning?”

“Be there bright and early,” Tommy replied.

Joel took the long way home, pausing outside your house for a moment, checking the status of your woodpile. It would be OK for a bit but he made a plan to come chop more for you, make sure you had a good stockpile before the cold really set in.

Ellie and Savvy had left for the dance before he got home and he took advantage of the quiet. It was chilly but not freezing so he settled on the porch with his guitar, not playing anything in particular. Instead, he was thinking of you.

He wasn’t sure where to go from here. Things felt better than they had in months. You leaned into his touch. You were wearing his shirt. He wanted to let you have control. You deserved that much, at least. He didn’t want to push things or rush you. He didn’t want to push you away but, more importantly, he didn’t want to hurt you. But he missed you. He wanted you back so bad it hurt. He had this underlying fear that he’d never move past this point, this constant longing, no matter what he did. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

Joel lost track of time out there, Ellie and Savvy coming back eventually, Savvy giggling and Ellie’s eyes wide.

“Everything OK kiddo?” Joel frowned as she cut around the house. “Have a good time?”

“Oh she had a great time,” Savvy giggled and Ellie elbowed her, only making her laugh harder.

“It was great,” Ellie said.

“Yeah it was,” Savvy said in a tone that made Joel think of you.

“Shut up,” Ellie hissed and Savvy giggled again. “We’re going to bed, some of us have to get up early.”

“Bet you wouldn’t say that if I were…” Savvy said but Ellie cut her off.

“OK, goodnight Joel!” She said, shoving Savvy playfully toward the back. “See you tomorrow…”

Joel tried not to laugh as he watched the girls dissolve into giggles as they went inside and he shook his head a little before going in himself to make a cup of coffee, something he figured he’d regret when he couldn’t sleep but it sounded too good. But he made the most of it, putting it in his favorite mug, one that Ellie liked to tease him about because of the owl but that just made him like it more.

He wondered if Tommy was right about the snow. He leaned on the railing of the porch, looking up into the dark. The skies were clear and he could see the constellations that you and Ellie both loved so much. He’d been looking for a good telescope for Ellie for years now and nights like tonight made him wish he’d found one by now.

“Hey.”

Joel jumped enough that he was surprised he didn’t burn his hand from the coffee.

You were there, at the base of the stairs, looking up at him with eyes wide and bright. His heart skipped a beat.

“Hey,” he cleared his throat. You were wearing his shirt. You didn’t have on a coat.

“It OK if I come up?” You nodded to the porch.

“Course,” he said. “Always welcome.”

You jogged up the steps, the same one as always squeaking under your feet, and Joel smiled a bit at that. The little sound he’d come to love because it announced your arrival.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” He asked. “It’s not bad, all things considered.”

“No,” you said. “Not in the mood, it’d be wasted on me.”

“You go to the dance?” Joel asked after a moment, your body close to his as you leaned against the railing beside him.

You laughed once.

“No,” you said. “Didn’t see much point. Besides, Tommy asked me earlier if I could fill in on patrol because we were down a person so I thought I’d try to rest since that means it’s an early start.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Didn’t go either,” he said after a moment of quiet. “Girls got back not long ago, though, gigglin’ up a storm. Think they had fun.”

“That’s good,” you said, nodding, too. “I wonder what Savvy thought of a dance… I hated them when I was her age but that’s because my mother made me go. She might love them. It’s hard to know.”

“They’re not for everyone,” Joel said. “But can be fun. I’m sure I’ll get all the details soon, I’ll pass ‘em on when I do.”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing at him for a moment before looking up at the stars again. You were quiet for a moment before you sighed. “Joel…”

He looked at you, your fingers gripping the railing so tight your knuckles were pale.

“Joel, did you kill Cody?” You asked, turning to look at him, still holding the railing tight.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you asked me not to so I didn’t.”

“So, what, he just disappears two days after you go on patrol together?” You asked, brows raised. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“No,” Joel shrugged. “But I didn’t kill him. Didn’t hurt him, either. Told him he had to get the fuck out, that he couldn’t come back and couldn’t tell anyone where you were or I would kill him. But he’s alive. Unless he got himself fuckin’ killed since he left but since he made it this far, seems doubtful.”

“Joel…”

“Couldn’t have him here,” Joel said, taking a sip of coffee. “Not with you. Not with our girls. He’s too dangerous. You wanted him to live so he’s alive but he couldn’t stay here, so I handled it.”

You straightened up, looking him in the eye before you stepped closer to him. He waited for you to say something. Say something. Blame him, rail against him, something. But you didn’t.

“What are you doin’ here, Bambi?” He asked softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you whispered, so close he could feel the heat of your breath on him.

“Why’s that?” He asked. You reached up slowly, cautiously, and put your arms around his neck. He set his mug on the post of the railing and his hands curled gently around your biceps. You stepped closer still, your body against his now.

“I was thinking about you.”

Your eyes drifted to his lips before going back up to his eyes.

“Can I…”

“You can do whatever you want with me,” he breathed and you nodded before you kissed him softly, slowly. Your lips were gentle and easy on his, so much like he remembered them being. Your whole body slotted perfectly against his, the curves and arches of you melding into him as he wrapped his arms around you to cradle you against him and you deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth. He damn near whimpered when you pulled back from him, your body still pressed against him.

“Would it be alright if we went inside?” You asked.

“Whatever you want,” he said softly. “Give you whatever you want.”

You just nodded before kissing him lightly, pulling back much faster this time.

“Then let’s go inside.”

He just nodded, guiding you to the door before opening it and welcoming you into his home.

Next Chapter

A/N: EEEEEEEEE THEY'RE FINALLY BACK TOGETHER!

The Joel/Bambi relationship based angst is coming to a close and I think we're all pretty happy about that. Yeah? Yeah. Think we all know what the next chapter will be. Hope you're excited about it because I know I am!

Thanks for being patient while I write this insane chapter. I so appreciate you all for being here and sticking with this story! Love you!

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

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

256 notes · View notes