#a tragedy I couldn’t find anything for the last one

[flower-blossoms654]

….

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too?" | Part ii

Joel Miller xf!reader

part one | next part

chapter summary: After getting back his memories, Joel and you slipped away again.

word count: 15,3k (yes, it's longer than the first chapter)

warnings: angst, perhaps fluff, mentions of death, mentions of blood, and more angst, you will find out why Joel is mean in this chapter. I know I'm a teacher, but I didn't proofread, so I apologize for any mistake. paragraphs in italics indicate flashbacks.

a/n: Hello! The awaited part 2 of this story is here! I want to say thank you for the amount of love the previous part received, it was so nice to see all your reactions to this one! It was also my first fic reaching 1k> in less than a week and was overwhelming (positively). THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART, so stay tuned for the next! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! happy reading and PLEASE tell me what you think. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

For a mere second of time, wanting was enough for you. In a harsh reality where a tender love couldn’t be part of the writing pages of a tragedy that had changed the plans destiny had for humanity, even a simple glimpse of a spark was enough to initiate the fire.

Finding a reason to wake up was enough. Joel was enough for you, even when it was a path with not a clear ending.

A lie.

A maim affair engulfed in fire burning your lungs.

A tragedy.

You looked up from your work as you sensed people entering at the place, your eyes meeting Joel’s for the first time. His expression was hard, his eyes narrowed as he sized you up. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with a guarded look that made you feel like you were being evaluated.

“Can I help you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady under his intense gaze.

“She needs that looked at,” he said, his tone brusque as he gestured to Ellie’s arm.

You nodded, motioning for Ellie to sit down. As you began to clean the wound, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you, watching your every move. It was as if he was waiting for you to make a mistake, to prove that you didn’t belong there.

“So, you’re infamous nurse” Joel said after a moment, his voice still cool and distant.

You looked up from your work, meeting Joel’s eyes briefly before returning your focus to Ellie’s wound. His words hung in the air, a subtle challenge beneath the surface.

“Infamous?” you repeated, trying to keep your tone neutral. “I didn’t know I had a reputation.”

Joel shrugged, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. “Small town. People talk.”

You nodded, understanding that this was as much about sizing you up as it was about Ellie’s injury. You’d heard about Joel—everyone in Jackson had. He was a protector, a survivor, and not someone who trusted easily.

“I’m just here to help,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you wrapped Ellie’s arm with a bandage. “That’s all.”

Ellie, sensing the tension, glanced between the two of you, her eyes wide. “She’s okay, Joel,” she said, trying to ease the atmosphere. “It’s just a scratch.”

Joel didn’t respond to Ellie; his focus remained on you. There was something in his eyes—a guardedness, a wariness that told you he was waiting for you to prove yourself, or perhaps waiting for you to slip up.

“I’ve been in Jackson for a few days” you continued, finishing up with Ellie’s bandage. “Just trying to do my part.”

“Everyone’s got a part to play,” Joel said, his tone still clipped. “Just make sure you know yours.”

You felt the sting of his words but didn’t let it show. Instead, you nodded, stepping back as Ellie hopped off the table.

“Thanks,” Ellie said, giving you a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, managing a smile in return.

Joel pushed off the wall, his eyes still on you as he motioned for Ellie to follow him. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice softening slightly when he spoke to her.

As they walked towards the door, Joel paused for a brief moment, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turned back, his eyes meeting yours once more. There was something in his gaze, something more than just suspicion. It was as if he was searching for something in you, trying to read who you really were beneath the surface.

For a second, the hardened lines of his face softened, but just as quickly, the guarded expression returned. Without another word, he turned away and led Ellie out of the infirmary, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud.

You felt like breathing again.

By the moment you had reached your house, the sun had barely risen, casting a pale light over the quiet settlement. A few people were starting their duties as you walked with dried tears on your face, just wanting not to be perceive and being able to take a shower and follow your routine as you always used to die it since your arrival, but the ache was bigger than your wiliness and you ended up lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the horror on Joel’s face kept replaying in your mind. The heartbreak was raw and overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, let alone face the day.

You didn’t even notice you had fallen sleep until a knock came at your door, it took a moment for you to register the sound. You dragged yourself out of bed, wiping at your newly fresh tears from your eyes and trying to compose yourself as best as you could.

Opening the door, you found Maria standing there, her expression concerned.  “Hey,” she said softly, her eyes scanning your face. “Ramirez told me you didn’t show up at the infirmary this morning. Thought I’d check on you.”

You forced a weak smile, stepping aside to let her in. “Thanks, Maria. I just... fell asleep”

Maria nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She glanced around, taking in the disarray before turning back to you. “You don’t look like you’ve slept much.”

“I had a pretty good sleep” you said, voice breaking at how you so could still picturing Joel’s eyes looking at you with adoration last night “But morning came” you said, voice breaking “Joel got his memory back.”

Maria's eyes widened with concern and understanding. She moved closer, gently placing a hand on your arm. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again. "He doesn't remember loving me, Maria. He thinks I took advantage of him. He hates me."

Maria's expression softened, and she pulled you into a comforting hug. "I can't imagine how painful that must be for you. But you didn't take advantage of him. You both shared something real, even if he doesn't remember it now."

You clung to her, "I don't know what to do. I feel so lost right now."

Maria pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Take it one step at a time. Give yourself permission to feel what you're feeling. And remember, you have people here who care about you. You don't have to go through this alone."

You nodded, trying to find some comfort in her words. "Thanks, Maria. I just... I don't know how to face him now."

Maria squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You don't have to figure it all out today. Take some time for yourself. Maybe stay away from the infirmary for a today? give yourself a break."

You sighed, feeling lost. "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea."

Maria smiled softly. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You're stronger than you think, and you have a lot of people who care about you."

You managed a small smile. "Thanks.”

She nodded, giving you another comforting squeeze before standing up. "I'll check in on you later, alright? And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

As she left, you felt a small sense of humiliation, as if what had just happened was just a small piece of gossip to feed a community.

You stare at the wall for a minute, getting your stuff together. If you could get over what happened before arriving to Jackson, you could follow your life. That’s what you were making yourself believe.

So, you changed into new clothes, placing Joel’s shirt under your bed to not having sight of it again. And with a deep breath you left your house, walking to de infirmary to get your job done.

A broken heart wasn’t really a big issue in an already broken world.  

As you walked to the infirmary, the weight of the morning's events lingered in your chest. The usual bustle of the settlement seemed distant, like a muted backdrop to your internal turmoil. Every step felt heavy, but you kept moving, determined to focus on your responsibilities and find some semblance of normalcy.

Upon arriving at the infirmary, you were greeted by the familiar soft hum of activity. People glanced at you with curiosity, but no one asked any questions. You were grateful for their unspoken understanding, and you quickly immersed yourself in your tasks, finding solace in the routine.

Hours passed in a blur of tending to some Jackson residents, organizing supplies, and ensuring everything was in order. The work kept your mind occupied, though it couldn't completely drown out the ache in your heart.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Maria standing there, her expression gentle yet firm.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft but steady. "How are you holding up?"

You managed a small, tired smile. "I'm getting by. Staying busy helps."

Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. "I'm glad you're here. I just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything."

You shook your head. "I don’t want to talk. It’s over” you said, avoiding her gaze.

She placed a reassuring hand on your arm. "I know you said you don't want to talk, but I'm here if you change your mind," she said softly. "Sometimes it helps to just let it out."

You looked at her, the pain still fresh in your eyes. "Thanks, Maria. Maybe... maybe later. I just need some time now."

She nodded, respecting your need for space. "Take all the time you need. Just remember, we're here for you."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, a bit of rage simmered.

“You all were the ones who told me to go for it. You told me Joel was in love for me and him recovering his memory wouldn’t break what was there, but this morning he treated me like a whore and broke my heart.”

Maria's eyes filled with sympathy and regret. "I know, and I'm so sorry for what you're going through. We all believed it would be different. Joel... he's complicated. The things he's been through have left deep scars. But that doesn't excuse how he treated you."

You took a shaky breath, the pain still fresh and raw. "I just don't understand how it could change so quickly. One moment, we were so happy, and the next... he hates me."

Maria reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "Joel's been through a lot, and sometimes people lash out when they're scared or confused. But that doesn't make it any easier for you. You deserve better than that."

You nodded, tears welling up again. "I just wanted to be happy. I thought we could be happy together."

Maria's grip tightened slightly, a gesture of support. "You will be happy again. It might not feel like it now, but you will. You're strong, and you have people who care about you. We'll get through this together."

Maria gave your arm one last reassuring squeeze before stepping back. You watched her leave, feeling of sorrow. The pain was still there, but you knew it would take time, but you also knew you wouldn't have to face it alone.

Later that evening, the emotional turmoil still roiling within you, you decided to head to the bar. You hoped the familiar atmosphere and a drink might help numb the pain, even if just for a little while. As you pushed open the door, the hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air, a stark contrast to the quiet despair you felt inside.

You made your way to the bar, trying to avoid looking around too much, but it was impossible not to notice Joel sitting at a table in the corner. His arm was wrapped around Lori, and they were laughing together, looking every bit like a happy couple. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, the wound from the morning’s confrontation ripping open all over again.

Taking a deep breath, you walked up to the bar and ordered a drink, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you waited, Rick, the bartender, sensing your mood offered a small smile.

“What’s wrong with your face, darling?” he asked, concerned on his eyes.

You graced him with a small, tired smile at the question. “Just a rough day,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded understandingly, setting your drink in front of you. “Well, here’s something to help take the edge off. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the drink. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, momentarily dulling the pain.

As you sat there, trying to lose yourself in the comforting anonymity of the bar, you couldn’t help but glance back at Joel and Lori. Their laughter and closeness were a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt. You turned away quickly, not wanting to see any more.

“Is it Joel?” Rick asked gently, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down.

He sighed sympathetically, shaking his head. “Love can be a real mess sometimes.”

You chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

The bartender gave you a knowing look. “It’ll get better, you know. It might not seem like it now, but time has a way of healing these things.”

You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. “I hope so.”

“If you need anything, just ask me, okay?” he said, smiling at you before going back to his task.

You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. “I hope so.”

You nodded, trying to muster a smile in return. As the Rick moved away, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you again. Lost in thought, you barely noticed the person sitting next to you until you felt their presence.

Turning slightly, you saw Joel, his expression unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of emotions surging through you, all the pain, anger, and a lingering trace of love.

Perhaps he was here to apologize.

Joel cleared his throat, looking almost as uncomfortable as you felt. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. “Hey,” you replied, your voice strained.

Joel shifted in his seat, glancing at the drink in front of you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much more. The sight of him so close, the contrast memories of his tender touch last night and the harsh words from the morning still fresh, made it hard to breathe.

He took a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Look, about this morning…I was asking myself if I should let my door open tonight for you to come in the lure or something?”

The laugh he made after that cracked your already broken heart. The sound was harsh, cruel, and it cut through you like a knife. Your eyes widened in disbelief, and you felt your entire body tense.

“You think this is funny?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with hurt and anger. “You think what happened between us is something to joke about?”

Joel’s laughter died on his lips as he saw the hurt and anger in your eyes. “I- “

“What did you mean? you interrupted, your voice rising despite your efforts to keep it steady. “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re entertaining yourself by making jokes right now.”

Joel's face twisted into a bitter expression. “What do you expect me to say? That I suddenly remember everything and I'm head over heels for you? Life doesn't work that way, princess”

Your heart sank further, the cruelty of his words stinging more than you wanted “You don’t have to be cruel to be funny, Joel. You could at least try to understand what I’m going through.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms defensively. “Understand what? That you’re upset because you tried to rewrite a history that doesn’t exist between us? I’m sorry, but I can’t change how I feel—or don’t feel.”

You shook your head, feeling an anger bubbling within you. “You don’t get it.” You said, simply. Taking a seat on the stool, again.

Joel’s expression hardened. “You’re too busy living in a fantasy to see that whatever you think happened between us is over. I don’t remember it, and I don’t care to. Move on.”

You looked at him, fighting the tears. “I will move on from you. You’re not that important.” You looked towards the direction he had come from, not breaking the façade. You immediately spotted Lori who seemed amused at Joels treating you badly. “Go back to your woman, Miller”

Joel’s jaw tightened at your words, and he leaned in closer, his voice low and laced with anger. “You know what? I will. At least she knows where we stand. Unlike you, clinging to some fantasy that never existed.”

Your vision blurred with anger and hurt as you stared at him. “You really think you’re better than me.”

He smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. “I’m done with your drama.”

The words hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you balled your hand into a fist and swung at him. The punch landed squarely on his jaw, causing him to stagger back, a look of shock and pain flashing across his face.

The bar fell silent as everyone turned to witness the commotion. Joel touched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, anger and something else—something more vulnerable—flickering in his gaze.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again” you spat, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “You are the worst mistake I’ve done here.”

Joel's eyes blazed with a mix of anger and shock, but he didn’t say anything. You could see his jaw clenching, and the vulnerability in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened look. The silence in the bar was deafening, every eye on you.

You didn’t wait for his response. You turned on your heel and marched towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of your emotions threatened to overwhelm you, but you refused to let Joel see you break down.

As you pushed the door open, the cool night air hit your face, offering a small respite from the intensity of the bar. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. You wiped them away angrily, not wanting to show any more weakness.

As you stormed out into the night, the tears mingling with the cool air, you heard the door swing open behind you. Heavy footsteps quickly followed, and you knew who it was before you even turned around.

"Hey," Tommy called out, his voice filled with concern. "Wait up."

You spun around to face him, your anger and hurt bubbling over. "What do you want, Tommy?" you snapped, your voice trembling with emotion. "Did you come to see the fallout of your brother's words?"

Tommy stopped a few feet away, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I came to check on you," he said softly. "I saw what happened in there. Are you okay?"

You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and broken. "Do I look okay to you, Tommy? Your brother just ripped my dignity there?”

Tommy's eyes were filled with sympathy. "I know Joel can be a real asshole sometimes. But he's just confused. This whole memory thing has messed with his head."

You shook your head, the tears streaming down your face. "No, Tommy. This isn't his memory. He doesn't care about me. He never did. He never will”

Tommy took a step closer, his expression pained. "That's not true. I know my brother, and I know he cared about you. He's just scared. He doesn't know how to handle this."

You scoffed, the anger boiling over. “Care about me?” you laughed. “He was just dumfounded. What you saw inside is the real him.”

Tommy's face twisted with concern, his eyes pleading for you to understand. “Look, I know it seems like that right now, but Joel’s been through a lot. This memory thing has him all messed up.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling. “No, Tommy. You didn’t hear the things he said. He thinks I took advantage of him. He doesn’t remember any of the good times, any of the moments we shared. He just sees me as some... some opportunist.”

Tommy sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say. Joel’s always been stubborn, and this whole situation is making it worse. But you’re not alone in this. We all care about you.”

“Caring about me doesn't fix what he did," you said, your voice breaking. "He treated me like I was nothing.”

“I get it. I really do,” Tommy replied, his voice softening. “Just... give it time. Maybe things will get clearer.”

“Time won’t change what he said. It won’t change how he made me feel,” you replied, the bitterness in your voice evident.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, realizing there were no words that could ease your pain. He took a step back, giving you space. “I’m here if you need me. Just remember that.”

“I don’t need the baby miller protecting me.” You spoke. “From now on, I’m just the nurse and if you need me patrolling, I don’t want Joel near me.”

Tommy's face fell slightly, but he nodded, understanding the gravity of your words. "Alright. I'll make sure to arrange things so you don't have to cross paths with him."

You could see the concern in his eyes, but you didn't have the energy to address it. "Thank you," you said, your voice hollow. "I need to be alone now."

Tommy hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Take care of yourself, alright?" He turned and walked back towards the bar, leaving you standing alone in the quiet night.

As you watched him go, you felt a mixture of relief and sadness. The night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

Turning away from the bar, you started walking, not sure where you were heading but knowing you needed to move. Each step felt heavy, but you forced yourself to keep going. You would find a way to heal, even if it felt impossible right now.

One step at a time, you told yourself again. One step at a time.

Week one.

You had promised yourself to not having. And Joel had had started to have punctuating headaches.

When he arrived, he noticed another guy standing where you used to be. The unfamiliar face caught him off guard, and a sense of unease settled in his stomach.

"Where's the nurse?" Joel asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The new guy, a young man with sandy hair and a nervous demeanor, looked up from his preparations. "She asked to be reassigned. Said she didn't want to do patrols anymore."

Joel's heart sank. "Did she say why?"

Before the guy could answer, Tommy walked over, overhearing the conversation. "I'll take it from here," Tommy said, looking at the new guy, who nodded and walked away.

Joel turned to Tommy, his expression a mix of confusion and worry. "What's going on, Tommy? Why'd she ask to be reassigned?"

Tommy sighed, crossing his arms. "She didn't want to be around you, Joel.”

Joel felt a pang of guilt and frustration. "I didn't mean for things to get this bad. I was just... I was trying to deal with everything, I think I handled it wrong."

Tommy nodded. "Yeah, you did. And now she’s moving on as you asked her to.”

Joel's chest tightened at Tommy's words. "I didn't think she'd actually was…I- I thought she’d... I don’t know, understand.”

"Understand what, Joel?" Tommy asked, his tone sharper than usual. "That you were scared and hurt, so you took it out on her? You made your bed, now you’ve gotta lie in it."

Joel ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his mistakes. “Okay what’s so wrong? Since when she is in love with me?”

“Did you know she was the one who brought you back here when you feel and hit your head so hard you forgot about her? Or about all this past year?” Tommy said exasperated, “She was there for you every single day and man, she was scared of letting you in because she knew all this was going to happen.”

Joel's mind reeled as Tommy's words sank in. "She brought me back?" he echoed, a wave of guilt washing over him.

"Yeah," Tommy said, his voice heavy with frustration. "She did everything for you. Every single day. And you just pushed her away like she meant nothing."

Joel felt his heart constrict. He had been so consumed by his own confusion and pain that he hadn’t stopped to consider what she had gone through. "I didn't know. I didn't remember."

"That’s the point, Joel. You didn't remember, and instead of trying to understand, you lashed out at her."

Joel nodded slowly, trying to absorb the pieces of new information.

"You can't just fix this with a few words, Joel.” Tommy added, as if he had just read his brother’s mine. “She had gone through much already.”

“What do you mean by that?” Joel asked, concern came from nowhere.

Tommy sighed deeply, looking away for a moment before meeting Joel's gaze again. "She went through hell before she even got here, Joel.”

Tommy’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Joel's brow furrowed as he tried to grasp what his brother was saying.

"What do you mean?" Joel asked, his voice low and hesitant, the concern now unmistakable.

Tommy looked at him for a long moment, as if debating whether to reveal something he wasn’t sure Joel was ready to hear. Finally, he sighed, his expression softening with a mix of empathy and frustration.

"She was on her own for a long time before she found Jackson," Tommy began, his tone measured. "Lost her family, everyone she ever cared about. Saw things that would break most people. But she survived. She made it here, and despite everything, she decided to stay and help us. She didn’t have to, but she did. And when you came back hurt and lost, she put everything into helping you, even though she knew it was a risk."

Joel felt a lump forming in his throat as Tommy spoke. He had been so wrapped up in his own struggles that he hadn’t seen the depth of what she had endured.

"And you," Tommy continued, his voice thick with emotion, "you were her last straw, Joel. She let her guard down for you, and you crushed her.

Joel’s heart ached at Tommy’s words. He felt the sting of regret deep in his chest, knowing that he had only added to her pain.

"Tommy, I..." Joel started, but the words failed him. What could he say that would make any of this right?

"You need to understand something, Joel," Tommy said, his voice firm but not unkind. "She’s not just some woman who’s here to patch us up and send us on our way. She’s a survivor, just like us. And she deserves a hell of a lot better than what you gave her."

Joel nodded, feeling the full weight of his actions pressing down on him. He realized now just how much he had taken for granted, how much he had failed to see.

That same afternoon, the weight of his guilt and determination pressing heavily on his chest, Joel made his way to the infirmary. He had rehearsed what he would say a hundred times in his head, but the closer he got, the more uncertain he felt. He needed to talk to you, to apologize, to start making things right.

When he arrived, he hesitated at the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. The familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of activity greeted him as he stepped inside.

You were at the far end of the room, organizing supplies and preparing to leave for the day. Your back was turned to him, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure of how to start. But then you sensed his presence and turned around, your eyes meeting his.

For a brief second, something flickered in your gaze—recognition, maybe even surprise—but it was quickly replaced by a cold, distant expression.

"Hey," Joel said, his voice sounding more tentative than he intended.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you continued with what you were doing, organizing a stack of medical supplies. It was clear you were trying to keep busy, to avoid engaging with him.

"Can we talk?" Joel asked, taking a cautious step closer.

You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you turned to face him fully. Your expression was unreadable, your eyes guarded. "I'm busy, Joel," you said, your tone clipped and distant.

Joel felt a pang in his chest at your coldness, but he knew he deserved it. "I know. I just... I wanted to apologize. For everything. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry."

You looked at him for a long moment, your expression hard. "I don’t need your apologies," you replied, your voice steady but laced with an edge of bitterness. "What’s done is done."

Joel swallowed, feeling the sting of your words. "I understand that, but I still want to make things right. I want to try."

You shook your head, a small, bitter smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You can’t just fix this with a few words, Joel. You made it clear how you felt. I was so pathetic for seeking tender love in a world like this, and I was so pathetic for accepting it from you."

Joel flinched at your words, the harsh truth of them cutting deep. He opened his mouth to respond, to say something—anything—that might reach you, but you were already moving past him, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.

"Wait," he said, reaching out to stop you, but you brushed past him without a second glance.

"I’m done with this conversation, Joel," you said over your shoulder, your voice cold and final. "If you have something to say, save it for someone who cares or maybe for when you fuck Lori.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, his heart pounding in his chest as he replayed the conversation in his head. The way you looked at him—so detached, so unlike the sweet person you were—shattered any remaining hope he had of mending things between you. Joel clenched his fists frustration welling up inside him.

And with that, you were gone, leaving Joel standing in the infirmary, the empty room echoing with the silence of everything left unsaid.

Week two.

The distance between you and Joel grew even wider. You kept yourself busy with your duties at the infirmary, throwing yourself into work to avoid thinking about him. Jackson was large enough that it wasn’t hard to avoid each other, especially since you made a point to steer clear of any places where you might run into him.

Joel, on the other hand, wasn’t faring as well. The days felt like they were dragging on, each one heavier than the last. The guilt and the lingering regret of how things had ended between you, was starting to take a toll on him. He found it harder to concentrate on anything, his mind constantly wandering back to you, replaying your last conversation over and over again.

Things hadn’t started bad between the both of you. There was a time, not too long ago, when things between you and Joel had been different—better. When you first arrived in Jackson. He was wary, of course, just as everyone. People with big walls up for protecting the same from the dangers from the outside.

Initially, he had kept his distance, observing you with a cautious eye. But as days turned into weeks, something shifted. You’d taken on the role of a nurse with a quiet determination, and your compassion and dedication gradually began to break through the walls Joel had built around himself.

There was one particular evening when you both found yourselves at a small community gathering. It was one of those special moments for people to unwind and reconnect. Joel, usually reserved and gruff, had shown up with Ellie in tow, and you were surprised to find him engaging in casual conversation, a rare sight indeed.

You and Joel had ended up chatting while sitting around a makeshift bonfire. The conversation had started with practical matters—how best to handle a certain type of injury or a recommendation for new supplies—but soon it evolved into more personal topics. Joel had shared stories from his past life, and you found yourself opening up about your own one.

The old versions of two people trapped in the endless tragedy

The atmosphere was relaxed, and for the first time, you saw a different side of Joel.

Joel was seated across from you, a relaxed look on his face that you rarely saw. His eyes, usually so guarded, were softer tonight. Ellie was nearby, occupied with a makeshift game she’d crafted from scavenged materials.

“So, you actually went through all that trouble for a single, mediocre meal?” you asked, chuckling at Joel’s tale of a particularly botched cooking attempt.

Joel grinned, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his face. “You’d be surprised what we went through to get even a half-decent meal back then. We were pretty desperate.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t imagine. I’m just grateful for what we’ve got now, even if it’s not gourmet.”

Joel nodded in agreement. “Yeah, things are better here. A lot better than they were.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. You glanced at Joel, noticing how his eyes softened as he spoke. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have someone who understands what it’s like out there.”

Joel met your gaze, his expression sincere. “And I’m glad you’re here too. You’ve done a lot for everyone. For Ellie, especially.”

For Joel, dealing with all of this started to become unbearable the moment migraines hit. They had started as a dull ache, a constant pressure in his head that he could push through if he focused hard enough. But as the days went on, the pain intensified, becoming sharp and unrelenting. The pounding in his skull would come in waves, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He tried to hide it at first, not wanting anyone to see him weak, but it wasn’t long before people began to notice.

He’d find himself gripping the edges of tables or leaning against walls to steady himself, his vision blurring as the pain surged through him. He hadn’t had migraines like this in years, not since the early days when the world had first gone to hell. But these were different, more intense, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow connected to something else.

Maybe someone, his thoughts screamed.

Tommy noticed too, of course. He had been keeping a close eye on his brother ever since the confrontation in the infirmary, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that something was wrong.

Joel had just returned from patrol; his face pale and his movements unsteady. As he walked through the door of the house, he winced, his hand pressing against his temple. The migraine had hit him hard, and he was struggling to keep it together.

Tommy was already in the kitchen, grabbing a drink when he noticed Joel’s distress. He set the cup down, crossing the room quickly. “You okay, Joel?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Joel tried to force a casual shrug, but the pain in his head made it difficult. “Yeah, just—” He hesitated, trying to find a plausible excuse. “—just got a bit of a headache. My new patrol partner’s been causing me more stress than usual. You know how it is.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Your new partner? We’ve only had him for a few days. Doesn’t seem like he’d cause this much trouble.”

Joel rubbed his temples more vigorously, trying to stave off the waves of pain. “It’s been rougher than I expected, okay? Just one of those days.”

Tommy didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push the issue further. “Alright, if you say so. But if this keeps up, you should get it checked out. Don’t let it go too long.”

Joel nodded, grateful for Tommy’s concern but unwilling to admit the full extent of his struggle. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to rest.”

Joel couldn’t even convince himself. He just didn’t find strength to face you.

That evening, the bar was lively, filled with the hum of conversation and laughter. Joel sat at a corner table with Lori, Tommy, and Maria. He was trying to focus on the conversation, but the throbbing pain in his head made it difficult. Lori, noticing his discomfort, kept a concerned eye on him, occasionally reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly.

As you walked in, the bar’s ambient noise seemed to momentarily quieten, and Joel’s gaze instinctively shifted toward you. You moved with purpose, but your demeanor was cold and distant. Tommy and Maria spotted you first and greeted you warmly.

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” Tommy said, waving you over.

Maria offered a friendly smile. “Yeah, come join us.”

You returned their greetings with a nod, but when your eyes met Joel’s, you turned your attention elsewhere, ignoring him completely. Joel shifted in his seat, trying to hide his discomfort, but the strain was visible in the tense lines of his face.

Lori noticed the awkwardness and frowned. “You could at least hide you jealously and stop being a mean bitch” she said to you, loud enough for everyone around to shut.

The bar’s noise seemed to drop as Lori's words cut through the air. You felt every eye on you as the tension escalated.

You turned to Lori, your face hardening. “I’m not here to entertain you or play nice.”

Lori’s face flushed with anger. “Well, if you can’t be civil, then maybe you shouldn’t be here at all.”

Joel, trying to defuse the situation, interjected, “Lori, that’s enough.” His voice was strained, both from the growing migraine and the emotional weight of the confrontation. “We don’t need to make this any worse.”

“No! I’m tired of this bitch being a pain to us just because you don’t love her back” she continued, calling you out.

Joel’s face tightened with a mix of frustration and pain. “Lori, seriously, stop. This isn’t helping anyone.”

You stood tall, your voice icy as you spoke. “I don’t need a lecture from you or anyone else. I’ve been nothing but professional, and this—” you gestured between yourself and Joel, “—is a personal matter. I’m done being the target of everyone’s frustration.”

Joel’s gaze wavered, his eyes reflecting the hurt from your words. “You don’t have to be like this.”

“No,” you snapped, “I don’t have to be here at all. If you want to know why I’m acting this way, it’s because I don’t want to be around someone who can’t see my worth.” Your voice cracked with emotion. “You can keep Joel. I don’t want a man who can’t appreciate me.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. “I’m so done with all your pity because the man I’m in love with doesn’t remember loving me. But life moves on, and so do I. I’m done being the center of anyone’s misplaced sympathy.” You sighed a little, embarrassment creeping up your body “I’m just- I want you all to stop talking about me as if I’m a broken little girl, please.”

With a final, resolute glance at the group and the rest of people inside, you turned and walked out of the bar. The door swung shut behind you, the muffled noise of the bar fading as you stepped into the night.

Joel froze there, the harsh sting of your words lingering.

The man I’m in love with.

Why did you even love him?

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest as he processed your words. The sting of your rejection mixed with the searing pain in his head, making it hard to think clearly. He stood frozen for a moment, watching you leave, his mind racing with regret and confusion.

After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his daze. He could feel Lori’s eyes on him, her frustration still palpable. Ignoring her, Joel pushed himself up from the barstool, his movements tense and hurried.

“Sorry, I need to go,” he muttered, his voice rough and distant. He didn’t wait for a response and headed for the door. As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, offering a brief reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of the bar.

Joel saw you standing just outside the bar, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The cool night air seemed to accentuate the solitude you radiated, and the flickering streetlight cast uneven shadows over your face. Joel’s heart ached as he approached, the intensity of his migraine fading into the background compared to the weight of his regret.

He stopped a few feet away, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Hey," he said, his voice rough but gentle. "I didn't mean to... to make things worse tonight."

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. They were red-rimmed, a sign of the emotional toll the evening had taken. "What do you want, Joel?" Your voice was quiet but edged with defiance.

Joel shifted uncomfortably, the words coming out in a rush. "I know I screwed up. I know I can’t undo what’s been done. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. I was a damn fool, and I didn’t see how much you were hurting."

You shook your head, looking away. "It’s too late for apologies. You made your choices."

“I know,” Joel admitted, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“Go back inside to your woman” you said, voice steady yet the truth of the words cut your throat.

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with an aching with regret and yearning. He could feel the pounding in his head lessen, as if your presence, though tense and fraught with pain, was soothing the storm within him.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I don't want to go back inside. I came out here to talk to you. I need to explain—"

You cut him off, your voice colder now. "I don’t want explanations, Joel. I want you to be honest with yourself and with me."

Joel's expression faltered, his usual resolve wavering under the weight of his migraine and the emotional strain. "I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly. "Every time I try to make things right, I just seem to make it worse."

"Look," Joel said, taking a step closer, though he kept a respectful distance. "I know I can’t fix everything right now, and I know I’ve hurt you more than I ever intended. But if there's any chance at all to mend things, I want to try. I need to try."

You glanced at him, feeling the strange mix of emotions. His presence, his apology, even his struggle, created a confusing pull. You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Just... take things slow," you said finally, your voice softening slightly. "Show me, don’t just tell me."

You gave him one last, lingering look before turning away, the night air feeling strangely lighter as you walked back toward your house. Joel watched you go, a fragile sense of relief mingled with the lingering weight of his migraine.

Joel nodded, his heart aching.

Week three

The situation between you and Joel remained tense and unresolved. Despite the brief moment outside the bar, there was still an emotional chasm between you two. Meanwhile, Joel's migraines continued to worsen, each one more debilitating than the last. The pain had become a constant companion, gnawing at him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Tommy had been watching his brother closely, his concern growing with each passing day. He had noticed how Joel winced at the slightest noise, how he gripped the edges of tables to steady himself, and how he often retreated to dark corners to try and alleviate the pain. Tommy knew something had to give, and he wasn't sure how much longer Joel could keep this up, especially with patrols still on the agenda.

During the morning, as the patrol assignments were being handed out, Tommy pulled Joel aside. “You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “These migraines… they’re getting worse, Joel.”

Joel nodded, though the movement sent a sharp pain through his temples. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, not wanting to admit how bad things had really gotten. “Just need to keep moving, keep my mind off it.”

Tommy sighed, not entirely convinced. “Alright, but I’m pairing you up with someone who won’t hesitate to call for backup if things go south.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, wondering who Tommy had in mind. His answer came when you walked into the room, your expression unreadable as you glanced at Tommy, then at Joel.

“You’re on patrol with Joel today,” Tommy said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “Consider it part of the consequences for that little outburst at the bar the other night.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then closed it, seemingly deciding against saying anything. Instead, you simply nodded, surprising both Tommy and Joel.

Due to your situation with Joel, you would have argued, pushed back, but you didn’t. Whether it was out of a sense of duty, or because you had your own reasons for going along with the assignment, neither man could tell.

Joel looked at you, his expression hard to read. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew that this patrol was going to be anything but ordinary. The tension between you two was palpable, and the fact that you hadn’t fought the assignment left him uneasy.

As the two of you geared up and headed out, the silence between you was thick, neither of you willing to break it first. The path ahead was familiar, but the atmosphere was charged with unresolved emotions and the weight of things left unsaid.

As you and Joel prepared to head out for patrol, Tommy pulled you aside, his expression serious. “Listen, I know things are tense between you two, but if Joel starts feeling bad, you come back immediately. No heroics, no pushing through it. Understood?”

You nodded, not meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Understood,” you replied, your tone neutral. The truth was, you didn’t know how you felt about being on patrol with Joel, but you weren’t going to argue with Tommy’s orders.

Tommy looked at you for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but he held back. Instead, he just gave you a small nod before turning back to Joel, who was adjusting his gear a few feet away.

Joel caught Tommy’s eye, and there was a silent exchange between the brothers—Tommy’s concern evident, and Joel’s stubborn determination clear.

Once outside the gates, the silence stretched between you and Joel, heavy and uncomfortable. The forest around you was quiet, the only sound was the crunch of your boots on the dirt path. You kept your eyes ahead, focused on the task at hand, but you couldn’t help but be aware of Joel’s presence beside you.

As you walked, you noticed something strange. Joel, who had been rubbing his temples and wincing in pain earlier, seemed to be a bit more at ease. The tight lines of pain on his face had softened, and he wasn’t clutching his head like he usually did.

You didn’t want to think too much about it, but you couldn’t help but wonder if your presence had something to do with it.

Joel, too, was aware of the change. He had been bracing himself for another wave of pain, expecting the migraine to hit hard as it had been for days now. But instead, he felt… better. The pain was still there, lurking in the background, but it was muted, manageable. And the only thing that had changed was that you were with him.

As you continued walking, the strange shift in the atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed. Joel glanced at you every now and then, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he was trying to figure out what had changed. You kept your focus straight ahead, but the weight of the unspoken tension between you two was hard to ignore.

After a while, you slowed down and finally came to a stop, gesturing for Joel to halt as well. Without saying anything, you walked over to your horse and untied a small bouquet of flowers that had been carefully wrapped and secured to the saddle.

Joel watched, puzzled, as you held the bouquet tightly in your hand. "Just... just wait for me here for a bit," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was a softness to your tone that caught Joel off guard, and he nodded, sensing that whatever you were about to do was important.

You walked a short distance off the path, through the dense trees and underbrush, until you reached a small clearing. The air was still, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

Joel stayed where he was, leaning against his horse, but his eyes followed you, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression.

In the clearing, you knelt down beside a small, unmarked grave, the earth slightly raised from where you had buried your boyfriend two years ago.

You placed the bouquet gently on the grave, your fingers lingering for a moment on the petals. Your heart ached with the familiar pang of loss, the pain of carrying love for someone who was no longer here. It was a pain you had learned to carry with you, but it never really went away.

As you knelt there, a few silent tears slipped down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. This was a private moment, one you hadn’t shared with anyone, not even Joel. He had no idea about the depth of your loss, about the man you had loved and lost before arriving in Jackson.

When you finally stood up and turned back toward the path, Joel was still waiting, his expression unreadable. You walked back to him in silence, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft as his eyes studied your expression.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers brushing lightly against your jacket. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is where I buried him. My fiancé."

Joel’s heart sank as he remembered the voice of Tommy telling him some things he didn’t even remember about you. And now seeing you here, in this quiet, sacred place, made the weight of your grief all the more real.

"I didn’t know," Joel said, his voice laced with regret. He felt a pang of guilt for not being there for you when you had gone through this, for not understanding just how much you had carried with you all this time. "I’m sorry."

You nodded slowly, still staring at the grave. "It’s been a long time since I’ve come here. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it, but… I guess I needed to say goodbye again. Properly."

Joel stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth at your side. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to be there, to offer whatever solace he could.

"He was a good man," you continued, your voice stronger now. "He was kind, patient, everything I could have asked for. But this world… it takes everything good and leaves you with nothing but memories."

Joel clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar ache of loss that never truly went away. He knew all too well the pain of losing someone you loved, the emptiness that followed, the way it changed you forever.

"He deserved better," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "He deserved a future, a life. But instead… he got this."

Joel rested his hand gently on your shoulder. "I’m sorry," he repeated, the words feeling inadequate but all he could offer.

But instead of finding solace in his touch, you flinched, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. The grief, the anger, the overwhelming sense of loss—it all came flooding back, and you couldn’t handle it, not right now.

“Don’t touch me, okay?” you said, your voice trembling as you pulled away from him, putting a small but significant distance between you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you needed space, needed to breathe without feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of your emotions.

Joel froze, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, the rejection hitting him harder than he expected. He swallowed, trying to push down the rising tide of guilt and pain that your words had stirred up.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew better than to push, knew that you needed time to process everything on your own. But it didn’t stop the sting of your words from cutting deep, reminding him of all the ways he had failed before, all the ways he had let the people he cared about slip through his fingers.

“Peter was the only man who deserved my love,” you said, your voice laced with a mix of bitterness and sorrow. The truth of it stung, cutting through the air like a blade. You didn’t mean to be cruel, but the words slipped out before you could stop them, a reflection of the turmoil swirling inside you.

Joel swallowed hard, the hurt in his eyes evident as he processed what you had just said. He knew you were grieving, that you were speaking from a place of pain, but it didn’t make the words any easier to hear. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond, his mind reeling from the sudden shift between you.

“I get it,” he finally said, his voice tight with emotion. “You loved him. And he was… he was a good man. Better than me.”

He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, feeling the weight of his own inadequacies bearing down on him.

 “Yes, he was” you said without a doubt. “And that killed him.”

Joel’s heart clenched at your words, the blunt truth of them landing like a blow. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, the weight of your statement pressing down on him. The silence between you grew thicker, charged with the grief and anger that neither of you could fully express.

“He and I had a kid” you confessed, you heart clenched at the memory of that little boy you took care of for five years of your life.

Joel’s head snapped up at your confession, his eyes widening in shock. The weight of what you had just revealed hit him hard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“He and I… we had a kid,” you repeated, your voice trembling as you forced the words out. Your heart ached at the memory of the little boy you had taken care of, loved, for five years of your life. The pain of losing him, of losing the family you had built, was still fresh, a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal.

Joel’s expression softened, the anger and frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface giving way to something deeper—compassion, understanding, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow for everything you had lost. He could see the pain etched into your features, the way your shoulders slumped under the weight of your grief, and it broke something inside him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t know what else to say.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, not wanting to break down in front of him. “His name was Sam,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was just a baby when we found him, abandoned… we took him in, raised him as our own. And then, one day” you sobbed, “They killed him…Those fucking soldiers killed him.”

“Peter and I had planned on how leaving all behind, he had hear about Jackson from a friend, and then he trusted the wrong people.”

Joel’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to you, the horror and anguish in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He could see the pain etched deeply into your features, the way your body trembled with the force of your grief. The image of what you had endured—losing not just your partner but the child you had raised together, taken away in such a cruel and senseless way—was almost too much to bear.

“They killed him,” you repeated, your voice thick with emotion as tears streamed down your face. “They took everything from me… from us. We just wanted to be safe, to give him a life that meant something. But those soldiers… they didn’t care. They saw us as a threat, as nothing more than collateral damage.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, anger surging through him at the thought of what had been done to you and your family. He knew the kind of world you were living in, where trust was a dangerous thing, and hope could be ripped away in an instant. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I’m so sorry,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He wanted to say more, to find the right words to ease your pain, but everything felt inadequate in the face of such a profound loss.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you continued. “Peter and I… we had it all planned out. We were going to leave everything behind, start over in Jackson. He had heard about it from a friend, and it seemed like the only chance we had. But… he trusted the wrong people.”

Your voice broke again, the sobs coming harder now as you relived the nightmare. “They promised us safe passage, said they’d get us out. But it was a trap. They turned us over to the soldiers, and Sam… he didn’t stand a chance. He was just a little boy. He didn’t even know what was happening…”

Joel felt a lump in his throat, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he watched you unravel before him.

Without thinking, Joel stepped closer, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly against him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to offer empty words of consolation. He just held you, letting you cry against his chest, his hand gently stroking your back in an attempt to soothe you.

The world had gone eerily quiet after the gunfire ceased, the only sounds left were your ragged breaths and the distant cries of crows circling overhead. You could still feel the heat from Peter’s body fading beneath your hands, his blood soaking into the earth beneath him. The image of his lifeless eyes, staring blankly up at the sky, was seared into your mind, a horrific reminder that he was gone, that the man you loved, the father of your child, was never coming back.

You had been too stunned to cry, too numb to feel anything beyond the cold realization that you were alone.

Hours seemed to pass in a blur before you finally forced yourself to move. You couldn’t stay there, not with Peter’s body cooling beside you, not with the knowledge that those men might come back to finish what they started. So, you rose on shaky legs, your heart pounding in your chest, and stumbled away from the scene of the massacre, your mind numb as you left him behind.

The sun had begun to set by the time you found the old cabin, hidden deep within the woods. It was small, decrepit, with broken windows and a door that hung askew on its hinges, but it was shelter, and that was all that mattered. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, the musty smell of decay filling your nostrils as you surveyed the dark, empty space.

It felt wrong to be alive, to still be breathing when Peter wasn’t, when Sam wasn’t. But survival was instinctual, and something inside you kept pushing you forward, kept you searching for a way to stay alive, even when all you wanted was to curl up and disappear.

You sank to the floor, your back pressed against the rough wooden wall as the tears finally began to fall. They came slowly at first, like a trickle, but soon they turned into gut-wrenching sobs that echoed through the empty cabin. You clutched your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as the storm outside began to roll in.

The wind picked up, howling through the trees and rattling the cabin’s fragile walls. Rain began to pour in heavy sheets, drumming against the roof and leaking through the cracks, pooling on the floor around you. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark interior in brief, blinding bursts, and the thunder that followed was so loud it shook the very foundation of the cabin.

You were alone for the first time in years, truly, devastatingly alone. The weight of that realization crushed you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think of anything other than the emptiness that stretched out before you. The storm outside mirrored the chaos inside you, the violence of it a reflection of the torment that raged in your heart.

Maria and a group of people found you two days later

And you had become terrified of storms ever since.  

You stiffened in Joel’s arms, the overwhelming flood of emotions too much. You couldn’t let yourself be comforted, couldn’t let someone else get close, not after everything you’d lost. The fear of opening up, of allowing yourself to be vulnerable again, was suffocating.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you stepped back, pulling away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Joel’s arms fell to his sides, the rejection clear in his eyes as he took a step back, giving you the space you needed. The hurt in his expression was evident, but he didn’t push, didn’t try to reach out for you again.

“You just feel pity because you see me as a broken doll” you said.

Joel’s expression tightened, his brow furrowing as your words cut through the air like a knife. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, clearly struggling with how to convey what he was feeling. The accusation hung between you, heavy and bitter, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.

“I don’t—” Joel started, his voice low and rough. He took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t see you that way.”

“Then why are you here, Joel?” you demanded, your voice rising with the pent-up frustration and pain. “Why are you trying so hard to be… whatever this is? You didn’t care before, but now you do because I’m broken?”

“How were you so sweet to everyone after what happened?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a hint of disbelief. It was as if he couldn’t comprehend how you managed to keep going, how you could still find kindness within you after everything you’d endured.

You looked at him, your expression softened by the lingering sadness, but there was a strength behind your eyes, a resilience that had kept you moving forward. “Because I didn’t lose them because of you all,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the pain that laced your words. “I wasn’t going to become angry at the people who gave me another chance.”

The truth of your statement hung in the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You had chosen to protect the small bit of humanity you had left, to hold onto the kindness that others had shown you when you needed it most. But that didn’t mean the anger, the grief, or the pain had disappeared—it was still there, buried deep, threatening to consume you if you let it.

Joel looked down, his shoulders sagging slightly as he absorbed what you said. He understood the weight of guilt, the way it could twist inside you, making you question everything. He had carried his own burden of guilt for years, but hearing you speak those words, seeing the strength it took for you to hold onto the good in the face of so much loss, it humbled him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words barely above a whisper. “I wish I could take it all back, change what happened. What I did to you and how I treated you the morning you woke up in my bed” he sighed, “Sorry for not remember what happened between us”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a quiet, resigned sadness. “It doesn’t change anything, Joel. It’s done. I can’t change the past either.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling heavily on him. The finality in your voice, the distance between you, made him feel even more lost, and he turned away, the ache of regret and loss deepening with each step he took.

Joel walked away, his steps heavy and deliberate. The weight of your words hung over him, a constant reminder of the things he couldn’t change, the pain he had caused. Each step felt like a step further from any hope of repairing what had been broken.

You watched him go, the solitude of the moment pressing in around you. The quiet was suffocating, filled with the echoes of the past and the weight of unspoken words. You turned back toward the grave, the memories of what you had lost mingling with the present pain.

A simple affair, torturing you.

+

Grieving the death and grieving the living were taking a tool on you.

Week four

A week had passed since that tense confrontation. The days had been a blur of activity and emotional exhaustion, the storm within you a constant companion. The quiet conversations with others and the daily routines in Jackson offered little distraction from the lingering sadness, but they kept you moving forward, one step at a time.

Everyone could say than a simply affair would dissipate with the time, that each week would make you unlove Joel, but you couldn’t take a complete distance from your lingering feelings.

And Joel? Joel had kept his distance, following your request for space. His presence was felt in the background, a reminder of the unresolved tension and the feelings that had been left hanging in the air. You had seen him around, in passing, but there was an unspoken agreement that he would not intrude upon your space.

He couldn’t bear to face you.

One morning, as you prepared for another day at the infirmary due to Tommy’s request, you found yourself in the familiar surroundings of the clinic. The routine was a small comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions. The soft hum of medical equipment and the scent of antiseptic filled the air, offering a sense of order and control.

As you were organizing supplies and checking on your patients, a familiar voice broke through the calm. “Hey.”

You looked up from your tasks to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of hesitation and resolve. He seemed slightly out of place in the clinical setting, but there was a determined look in his eyes.

“Joel,” you greeted, your voice steady but tinged with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Joel took a step inside, his gaze scanning the room before settling on you.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to give this to you,” Joel said, his voice a bit rough, as if he was struggling to find the right words.

Curiosity mingled with the apprehension you felt. “What is it?”

Joel took a deep breath, stepping closer but still maintaining a respectful distance. “It’s a little something I thought might help. I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I wanted to offer it to you anyway.”

You hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the package from him. It was small and wrapped simply, the gesture surprisingly thoughtful given the circumstances. You carefully unwrapped it, revealing a worn leather-bound journal. The cover was embossed with a delicate pattern, and as you opened it, you found pages filled with blank lines, waiting for your thoughts and feelings.

“You can write on it,” Joel said softly. “And I thought maybe, if you wanted to, this could be a place for you to put everything that’s been on your mind. It’s not much, but I thought it might help.”

The gesture was unexpected, and as you looked up at Joel, you could see the genuine care in his eyes. It was a small attempt to bridge the gap between you, to offer something meaningful despite the unresolved pain.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice almost choked with emotion. “It’s… thoughtful.”

Joel nodded, a small, almost relieved smile touching his lips. “I hope it helps, even just a little.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the weight of the past week settling in the air. Joel’s eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of the connection that had once been there, while you felt the tug of conflicting emotions—appreciation for the gesture, but also the lingering pain of his actions.

“How are your migraines doing?” You asked.

Joel looked slightly taken aback by your question, the personal nature of it a stark contrast to the more distant conversation that had been unfolding. He studied your face for a moment, perhaps surprised by your concern.

“They’re getting worse every day,” he admitted, his voice carrying a weight of weariness. “But today, I’m feeling a bit better. It’s been rough, though. The migraines have been relentless.”

You felt a rush of blood to your cheeks, concern and embarrassment at the question. “Tommy mentioned it,” you said quickly, wanting to clarify your source of information. “I just—well, I wanted to know how you’re doing.”

Joel nodded, his eyes softening slightly. “Thanks for asking. It means a lot. It’s been tough, but I’m managing.”

The vulnerability in his admission made you feel a pang of empathy. It was hard to see him struggling, especially when you had your own unresolved feelings and painful memories.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having a better moment today,” you said, your voice steadying as you tried to offer some comfort.

Joel’s expression grew more thoughtful, and he gave a small, appreciative smile. “Yeah, I’m holding onto that. Thanks for checking in.”

The silence between you was charged with unspoken emotions. You both stood there, the weight of your recent conversations lingering in the air. Joel looked like he was about to say something else, but instead, he gave a nod and started to walk away.

“Take care,” you called after him, the words carrying a genuine warmth despite the emotional distance that remained between you.

You had settled onto a barstool, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid was smooth and comforting, its warmth spreading through you as you took a sip. The effects of the alcohol were starting to take hold, making everything feel just a little more relaxed, a little more bearable.

Joel was at the bar, nursing a drink of his own. He hadn’t been particularly social that night, just sitting in his usual spot, lost in his thoughts. As the evening wore on and you became tipsier, you found yourself drawn to him, the comfort of familiarity outweighing the shyness that normally kept you at a distance.

You slid off your stool and made your way over to Joel, the room spinning slightly as you approached him. “Hey,” you said, your voice a bit louder than intended, carrying the cheerful buzz of someone who’d had a few too many drinks. “Mind if I join you?”

Joel looked up from his glass, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Sure, have a seat,” he replied, gesturing to the empty stool next to him.

You plopped down beside him, the warmth of his presence surprisingly comforting. “You know,” you said, leaning in slightly and grinning, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here this early before. You’re usually so… serious.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound of a low rumble that was both soothing and grounding. “Yeah, I guess I am. Just needed a drink tonight.”

In the afternoon, the usually calm atmosphere of the infirmary was disrupted by the sound of the door swinging open with a sense of urgency. Joel stumbled inside, his face pale and etched with pain. He moved slowly, his usual steady gait faltering under the weight of his unbearable migraines.

You looked up from your work, your heart sinking at the sight of him. He was clearly in distress, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to shut out the world. You quickly set aside what you were doing and hurried over to him.

“What do you want?” you asked, intending to sound too rude.

“I—” Joel started, but the words were interrupted by a sharp grimace of pain. “I can’t take it anymore. The migraines… they’re just too much.”

“From one to ten? How much is the pain?” you asked.

“What’s that bullshit?” He cried out.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your own frustration in check. Despite the roughness of Joel’s response, you could see that he was in genuine distress, and you needed to get a handle on his pain level to help him effectively.

“It’s just a way to measure how bad the pain is,” you explained, your voice firm but compassionate. “On a scale from one to ten, where one is no pain and ten is the worst pain, you’ve ever felt, where are you right now?”

Joel clenched his teeth, his face twisted with agony as he tried to focus. “It’s… it’s an eight,” he finally managed to say through gritted teeth.

He had saved that ten.

 The ten was the amount of pain he had when he lost Sarah.

A ten was the pain his heart felt when he looked at you from the distance.

You nodded, quickly assessing the situation. “Alright, I’m going to get you something stronger for the pain. Try to sit down and breathe slowly. I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to prepare a stronger medication, you felt the weight of the past few weeks pressing heavily on you. The bitterness in your words and his pain seemed to intertwine, creating a tense atmosphere that was hard to ignore. But your focus remained on getting Joel the relief he needed.

You quickly gathered the necessary medication and made your way back to Joel, who had seated himself on one of the examination tables. As you approached, you noticed his breathing was uneven, and his eyes were squeezed shut as if he was trying to block out the pain and your presence.

"Let me check your head," you said softly, your voice gentle despite the tension that hung between you. "I need to make sure there's nothing else going on."

Joel nodded slightly, his face still contorted in discomfort. As you leaned in to examine his head, your proximity made his breath catch in his lungs. The closeness between you seemed to amplify the charged atmosphere, making the air around you feel heavy.

You carefully placed your hands on his temples, your touch light but firm as you assessed his condition. Joel's breath became shallow and uneven, a sign that he was acutely aware of your closeness. He tensed under your touch, the intensity of his pain mixed with the vulnerability of the moment.

"How's that feel?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you moved your fingers over his forehead and the sides of his head.

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes still closed as he tried to focus on your touch rather than the pain. "Feels… a bit better," he managed to say, though his voice was strained. "Just… don’t know if I can handle this much longer."

You gave a reassuring nod, trying to offer comfort despite the lingering tension. "You're doing great. The medication should help soon. Just hang in there a little longer."

You both could feel your breathing mingling together, the agony of the closeness taking everything from you.

Joel closed his eyes for a bit, feeling you scent and your fingertips on his temples. In the haze of his agony, there were fleeting glimpses of a night that felt both distant and achingly familiar. He remembered the warmth of your touch, the softness of your lips against his. The kiss you had shared the night before he got his memory back began to resurface, bringing with it a surge of emotions he had long tried to bury.

The kiss had been tender. Joel could almost feel the echo of that moment now, a soft, lingering taste of intimacy that was both comforting and heartbreaking.

He remembered the way you had looked at him, the way your eyes had softened with unspoken words. The image of your face, so close to his, the way you had smiled before the kiss, replayed in his mind with a clarity that cut through the pain. It was as if your closeness was pulling these memories to the surface, forcing him to confront them once more.

Joel’s breath caught as he recalled the warmth of your lips, the way it had felt to hold you close. It was a vivid contrast to the overwhelming pain he was experiencing now, and it made him realize just how much he had missed and lost. The memory of that kiss, the feeling of being connected to you, made his heart ache with a mix of longing and regret.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the present while the memories swirled around him. As much as the past few weeks had been a struggle, this moment of closeness with you was stirring up feelings he had tried to keep buried. Joel’s eyes opened slightly, looking at you with a vulnerability that he hadn’t shown before.

“Sun…” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

The sound of "Sun" coming from his lips felt almost foreign, yet deeply familiar. It was a term of endearment he had used before his memory loss, one that had held a special place between you two.

“Sun…” he repeated, the word carrying tenderness and longing.

Your heart skipped a beat, the nickname a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared. It was a small yet significant piece of the past surfacing, offering a glimmer of connection despite everything that had happened.

You felt a rush of conflicting emotions, the glimmer of hope mingling with a deep-seated fear of revisiting old wounds. The nickname, the touch, the faint echo of past affection—it all stirred up feelings you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped back, your hand moving quickly to hand him the medication. “Here,” you said, your voice steady as you handed him the small packet of pills. “This should help with the pain. You should head home and rest.”

Joel looked up at you, a flicker of understanding and disappointment in his eyes. He could sense the shift in your demeanor, the way you were putting distance between you both. “You sure you don’t need any help?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “No, I’m fine. Just… please, go home. A storm is coming, and you should get back before it hits.”

Joel hesitated for a moment longer, but the look in your eyes told him that you needed space, that pushing further would only cause more pain. With a reluctant nod, he took the medication and turned to leave, his steps heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid.

As he walked out of the infirmary, you watched him go, the storm outside a stark parallel to the storm brewing inside you. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The fleeting connection, the memories stirred up—it was all too much to handle right now.

You were a bit tipsy, the effects of the whiskey making your steps a little unsteady. Joel walked beside you, his presence a steady anchor amidst the haze of your inebriation. You were both quiet, the conversation from the bar having dwindled into comfortable silence.

As you approached your house, you turned to him, a small, tipsy smile playing on your lips. The intimacy of the evening and the warmth of his proximity were too comforting to ignore. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. The action was impulsive, driven by a mix of affection and the blurred boundaries of alcohol.

Joel's reaction was immediate. He responded to the kiss, his arms finding their way around you as he deepened the connection. There was a brief moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, the kiss a sweet and tender promise of something more.

When you finally pulled back, your faces were flushed, and you looked at him with a mixture of uncertainty and contentment. Joel’s eyes were filled with a mix of surprise and warmth, the kiss having ignited something within him that he hadn’t anticipated.

“Good night, Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft and slightly slurred as you turned to go inside.

Joel watched you enter your house, his thoughts swirling in the wake of the kiss. He felt a strange blend of hope and confusion, uncertain about what the kiss meant for both of you. But the feelings were there, undeniable and strong.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow in your bedroom. You woke up with a throbbing headache, the remnants of last night a blurry haze. As you shuffled through your routine, the details of the previous evening remained frustratingly out of reach. The bar, the tipsy laughter, Joel walking you home—these were fragments, but the kiss itself was a complete blank.

When you encountered Joel later that day, you greeted him cheerfully, assuming nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Hey, Joel. How’s it going?”

Joel’s response was curt, his eyes avoiding yours. “Hey. I’m alright.”

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, the coldness in his tone. It was as if he was keeping you at arm's length, his usual warmth replaced with a frigid distance. You tried to brush it off, attributing it to a possible bad mood or personal issue.

Joel had resolved never to bring up the kiss, his feelings of hurt and confusion simmering beneath the surface. He’d come to see the incident as a miscommunication, a misunderstanding that he’d decided to keep buried rather than confront. The bitterness of feeling forgotten and dismissed had solidified into a quiet, unspoken rift between you.

Joel found himself unable to shake the feeling of the day's events. The migraine had ebbed slightly during the patrol, but as soon as he was back in his house, the pain returned, gnawing at him with a persistent, dull ache.

The house was quiet, save for the steady patter of rain against the windows. The storm outside was fierce, the wind howling and the rain pouring down in relentless sheets. Joel’s mood matched the tempest outside—stormy, unsettled.

As he was trying to organize his gear and get ready for bed, his eyes fell upon something on a chair near the door. It was the blouse you had lost that morning when he pushed you away from him, a soft, familiar fabric that he recognized immediately. He picked it up, holding it gently, and his mind replayed that morning events.

Joel held the blouse up to his face, breathing in deeply. The scent was faint but unmistakable—a mix of the outdoors, a hint of your perfume, and something more personal, something that reminded him of you. As the scent reached his senses, it hit him with a wave of emotions he hadn’t fully processed until now. He felt a rush of regret and longing. The migraine that had been a constant presence in his head now seemed to fade slightly as he held the blouse. The emotional weight of his actions, the pain he had caused you, and the gulf that had grown between you all came rushing back

You sat in the dimly lit living room of your small house, wrapped in a blanket, trying to find some semblance of comfort amidst the chaos outside. The storm had intensified, the wind howling and the rain slashing against the windows with a ferocity that made the walls tremble. Every rumble of thunder and flash of lightning felt like a jolt to your already frayed nerves.

You tried to focus on something—anything—to distract yourself from the fear that had settled deep in your chest. The living room was sparsely decorated, the bare walls and simple furnishings reflecting the practical, no-frills life you had tried to build for yourself. But tonight, it all seemed cold and empty, unable to offer you the comfort you so desperately needed.

You glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight, and sleep was elusive. The noise of the storm outside seemed to drown out any thoughts of rest. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to stave off the chill that had little to do with the temperature and everything to do with the lonely feeling that had enveloped you.

As you huddled on the couch, the flashes of lightning illuminated the room in brief, stark bursts. Each flash cast eerie shadows on the walls, making the storm outside feel even more menacing. You found yourself jumping at every crack of thunder, your heart racing with each one.

Part of you wanted to reach out to someone, but who? The distance between you and Joel felt insurmountable, and you had made it clear that you wanted to be left alone.

The living room was filled with the sound of the storm, punctuated only by your occasional sighs and the rustling of the blanket around you. You tried to focus on breathing deeply, calming yourself in the midst of the chaos. But as the storm raged on, so did the turmoil within you.

It was during a particularly intense flash of lightning that you heard a knock on the door. Your heart leaped into your throat, and you froze. Another knock, louder this time, followed by a faint call. “It’s Joel. Can I come in?”

The voice was muffled by the storm, but it was unmistakable. Your emotions were a whirlwind of confusion and surprise. You hesitated, wondering why he would come here, why he would seek you out now, but the desperation in his voice made you move towards the door.

You opened it cautiously, the cold wind rushing in and mingling with the warmth of the living room. Joel stood there, drenched from the rain, his face lined with worry and a mixture of other emotions that you couldn’t quite place.

“Joel,” you said, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at you with an expression that was a mix of regret, concern, and something softer that you couldn’t quite define.

Words weren’t need for moments like these. Two hearts beating as the silence felt like freedom of the remised prisoner love victim of the passage of time, the destiny or perhaps the fate of cursing spells.

It was there for you to see it and it was there for him to see it, but blindness was his curse. Not remembering was his curse. Joel wasn’t incapable of loving someone, but he was terrified of the pieces of the old him coming to the present where losing people was a daily occurrence.

Joel was terrified of loving and losing the last flame of goodness left in this mad world that had tainted people, but you. There was a pure innocence in your eyes, in your actions and in your kindness and he had come to face his old him through you, the old him that had died with his daughter years ago.

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes reflecting the soft light from the flickering candles. His voice was a murmur, almost lost in the howling of the storm outside. “You’re afraid of storms.”, he said quietly, his voice low and gentle. It wasn’t a question. He was stating a fact, something you had confessed to him when the love affair between you was burning. 

You looked at him, the realization dawning on you like the slow break of dawn. “You remember.” You whispered.

And you could only hear the steady beat of your own heart and the sound of Joel’s breathing.

I tagged everyone interested in part 2 but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed () if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me

💌 tags: @dreamtofus @paperstarzzz @chewie-bars @hotleaf-juice

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon

@18dmlk @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @frogjumps-world @camy-nyancat @sarahhxx03 @jasminedragoon @cuteanimalmama @eleganthottubfun @skysmiller @nana90azevedo @astralqueenoc

@missladym1981

[gay-dorito-dust]

Would you be willing to write a Miguel x Spider!Reader oneshot where they’re arguing over something the reader did on a mission. And in the heat of an argument, Miguel yells “Because I love you!” at the perfectly wrong time, revealing why he cares about the reader’s safety.

‘What the hell was that back there. You could’ve jeopardised the whole mission with that reckless stunt you pulled back there!’ Miguel barked, ripping off mask the first moment moment he could; Hellfire were setting ablaze to his beautiful scarlet eyes that were zeroed in on you as the anger, the frustration upon his face became prominent the more he closed the distance between you.

‘When will you let this go, Miguel. When we became Spider-Man we knew the risks that we were running with-‘ ‘so you thought it’d be better to take a running head start by taking the leap and then diving headfirst into them?!’ Miguel cuts you off and with an indignant huff he adds, ‘you don’t get extra points for being reckless, this isn’t some little game that you can just come back to when you feel like it. No, what we do is a full time commitment with no room for last minute deviations just because you were feeling more heroic.’

You grit your teeth. You respected Miguel, you truly did and at one point in time you wanted to do right by his little rule book of how to be a great hero. However you soon learned that it’s better to play by your own rules rather then it was to play by those made by others and slowly but surly found a method that worked for you. For no two methods were the same when it came to protecting and saving people but if they both end in the same conclusion, then no one should be able to raise an issue with it. At the end of the day you and Miguel saved people from a much bigger problem if left unchecked; so why was it that all of a sudden he had an issue with your methods?

It never upset him this much before, so why now. Did he think you as incapable? As unreliable? As untrustworthy to fully let you handle a situation on your own? Whatever it was it only proved in pissing you off despite your semi-injured state; you didn’t care that you’ve gotten hurt, you’ve gotten hurt plenty of times before and he never once batted an eye or exemplified his emotions as he did as of right now. You could barely get a read on the guy as he stood mere feet away, chest heaving even though he wasn’t out of breath, eyes wide and his hair slightly disheveled from the way he had torn off his mask earlier.

And yet you couldn’t help but find him beautiful in his anger, for it was like witnessing the makings of a Greek tragedy; beautifully written, yet so heartbreakingly tragic.

‘Why does it matter?’ You spat, getting up, despite your injured leg’s desire to buckle beneath the weight of not only you but the situation at hand. You saw the briefest movements of Miguel’s arms almost stretch out to instinctively catch you but stopping midway through the motion before going slack at his sides once more; as though remembering why he was mad at you in the first place. ‘It never mattered before, so why does it matter now? You don’t hound the others for doing it so why is it me that’s getting shit on for doing the same when I ain’t the first to do so!’

‘Because I love you!’ Miguel exclaimed.

The silence afterwards was almost deafening. Miguel’s outburst quieted you quickly as a thousand and one thoughts raced in your head; how long? why now? Was this merely a ruse to silence you so he could badger on at you for your supposed mistake? You didn’t know what to make of anything anymore now that he said that. You didn’t want to believe it for starters on the basis that not once had he ever shown interest in you, if anything he made it apparent to push you away or avoid you entirely from any and all interaction, and even when he did it was comprised of short responses that left the attempts at conversation to die as an overwhelming awkwardness forced you into leaving him be.

‘What?’

‘I love you.’ Miguel repeated, softer this time.

‘I get that but why-‘ ‘haven’t I shown it until now? As stupid as it sounds but I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me and look where you are,’ he gestured to your injured state, ‘hurt because of me.’ He adds defeatedly. You were about to open your mouth when Miguel raised a hand, indicating that he wasn’t finished, ‘I know I haven’t given you any reason to believe me when I say that I love you. I avoid you like the plague and I push you away whenever I see you starting to get too close and respond in a clipped tone of voice so that you’d loose interest and move on to talk to someone else.’

He stopped talking to move in closer to you, grasping you by arms with a firm grip as all the anger in his face seemingly having been melted away. The raging hellfire that once consumed his scarlet eyes in their entirety had been diminished to that of dying ambers, unveiling his admiration, his worry, his guilt and most importantly, his love; the sneer now long gone was replaced by a softer more tender expression that didn’t hide away the worry lines that were deeply etched into his skin. ‘I don’t deserve you, I’m not worth having you because sooner or later you’ll see me the way I’ve always seen myself and I’d rather you be as far away as possible when that happens.’ Miguel said, making sure he was maintaining eye contact with you the entire time to prove that he was being wholeheartedly genuine, not wanting to lie to you about something as personal as his feelings; He’s done that for long enough, Miguel knew his breaking point was upon the incline and seeing you act the way you did during the mission only fast forward it.

‘Yet for some inexplicable reason I can’t stop myself for wanting to protect you, to make sure you’re safe, to make sure that you never come to harm. At first I thought it was because I was looking out for a teammate, making sure you didn’t slip up and cause more potential problems for the rest of us, making sure that you didn’t let a single perpetrator slip but soon I learnt it was far more then just simply looking after a teammate...’ Miguel paused to blink away the images regarding of the nightmares he’d get concerning you, which were few and far between but those times were enough to suffocate him with fear. ‘It was something more and I grew scared, I grew scared because I know what it’s like to loose it all but for some reason I also knew that loosing you would just be the nail in the coffin for me.’

Miguel admits as he presses his forehead against your own, his hands trailing from up your arms until they’re caressing the skin of either side of your neck between calloused thumbs. He closing his eyes and allows himself to breath you in, reminding himself that you were here and that he managed to get to you before anything else could, that he kept you safe, not from all harm but at least from some of it and that was good enough but he knew deep down that he needed the do better. ‘Don’t make me imagine a life without you,’ he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours just that tiny bit harder as his fingertips found their home where your pulse points were to remind him that you weren’t gone completely from his grasp, ‘for I don’t think I’m strong enough to withstand that reality.’

‘You don’t have to.’ You told him softly, lifting your hands to caresses the skin of his cheeks and feeling him effectively melt within your hold. ‘Not anymore.’

[anitalenia]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𝒄𝒘: sexual content ahead, husband!bale!batman, fem!reader on top, riding, some dirty talk, soft sex, not my best writing but fr fr don’t come for me im just trying to post things okay? ahhhhhhh 😔🤚🏻 maybe some typos 😚 i oughta be ashamed of myself fr fr 😔😔🤚🏻🤚🏻 ₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆; eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy.

Labels. These were all just labels Bruce never particularly cared for nor paid attention to, monickers used to try and simplify who he really was so he could be easier understood. Labels used to better classify him because rich men like him supposedly didn’t have depth or purpose beyond what the media claimed him to have.

They were just labels, words that barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

Bruce had been called many things in his life, too many awful and offensive things he had quickly learned not to pay attention to. Caring gave them meaning, he was told so early on, caring gave them significance. Now, he really couldn’t care less.

Throughout the course of his life, throughout all the tragedy and grief, Bruce had learned to ignore it all; the names, the judgments, the looks, the labels. His indifference had become second nature, an innate response to anybody trying to provoke him.

He didn’t really have a choice anyway. There were too many people praying on his downfall since his birth, too many people biting at the fruits of his labor to see if they were ripe enough for the taking. Selfish, greedy, money hungry men desperate for his demise.

Sharks lurking in untamed depths ready to snatch him up if he swam too far, hiding in the black shores with their sharp teeth bared and beady eyes hungry.

Despite what many people believed, Bruce didn’t have it so easy in the sense of work and spirit. When you were rich like he was, famous like he was, as powerful as he was, everyone believed you couldn’t possibly be burdened by anything.

That he was too spoiled by the grandness of life that it had gradually bled into a lack of work ethic, that it was his last name that gave him any status at all, that it was his reputation that gave him everything he had without him having to ask for it.

He had the money to fix any problem, the influence to hide any scandal, the face to get him out of any situation he needed to get out of.

He was CEO of Wayne Enterprises for gods sake, son to Thomas Wayne, a man that was great and beloved all in his own right. Yes, people had doubted Bruce’s ability to lead, to run a business after so long of being away from it, but then he came back and proved them all wrong as he usually did.

Being someone so honorably renowned in Gotham City, someone that carried the Wayne name at that, it came with its own barrel of familial obligation and responsibility outside of his own personal commitments. He couldn’t disappoint anyone, could never fathom disappointing his late father.

Working by day a normal man with a bullet on his back, a price on his head to any hungry buisness man willing to do whatever it took to get to the top. Then working by night as Batman with the bruises and scars to show for it. Someone every criminal and lowlife in Gotham City wanted dead.

Batman, not so much a label as he was a separate being entirely. It was Bruce, but he couldn’t find any similarities between the polite buisness man wearing a suit by day and the other man wearing a blood stained mask by night. One was forced to coerce with society in the manner of business and passive aggressive smiles, another undertaking the grueling task of removing the grime from it.

Bruce Wayne was all expensive cologne and hand shake deals, money hungry tabloids and self absorbed white collars. It was a life always on display, always the center of attention, always everyone else’s focus.

Batman was purely mystery and intrigue. Hidden from sight yet found in every shadow, heard in the trembled whisper of every breath. No one knew who he was yet he had somehow gotten all of their attention. Everyone eager to know who was behind the mask but no one ready to answer for why he existed in the first place.

The only similarities they shared were the cause for conspiracy. Whether it was Bruce or Batman they stole every headline — always someone trying to figure them out, bring their true identity to light and spread more moral quandary about whether they were right or wrong for every choice they made.

Pure opposite lives he juggled in the same two hands.

No, he did not have it easy. Always more enemies than friends and more snakes than family. Every hour, every minute, every second he spent left exposed there was always someone right behind him ready to push him if he faltered.

He had to be careful; always be passive and nice, diplomatic and respectful to those he knew wanted him gone, to the people who wanted his seat at the head of the table and the money in his bank. Bruce had to be the CEO his father wanted him to be, the one he was destined to be, the one etched into his history before he was even born.

He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to live, a job to do.

But no, it was not always easy.

Being rich and handsome like he was did have its downsides, as meager as they may seem to less fortunate individuals. Many people hated Bruce Wayne just for those simple, superficial things alone. His looks, his status, his job he was so rightfully given. Apparently this made him an asshole, arrogant, narcissist.

It was looks of hatred and envy from men he’d never even met, women he’d abandoned after a steamy two hour hookup (not that he did those anymore but women loved to hold a grudge), businessmen who cursed him to hell and back for his amount of wealth and fame he had no control over.

He didn’t care about these people anyway. These rambunctious, single minded people who preyed on the weak and ate the hopeless. They were all self centered, arrogant, narcissistic. Self absorbed scum unwilling to put in the hard work necessary to be as successful as he was.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bruce was often regarded as someone lonely, someone lost, someone desolate and pitiful. He was a coward, hiding in his soulless black mansion under thick piles of money ever since the fatal death of his parents. So sad, an orphan, just depressing.

That was hushed whispers behind his back and somber stares, awkward, harrowing smiles from coworkers and the front pages of newspapers. Bruce Wayne back from hiding after all this time… living on his father’s name… will he fail or carry on the legacy of the great Wayne fortune… yada yada yada.

Just more words. Pointless and purposeless, written to appease the swill of Gotham with no real substance behind them. Gossip, false news, attention grabbing headlines that were purely speculation.

However, as much as he hated labels — more so his — whatever names he got called behind his back, Bruce couldn’t find it in sensible reason to argue that they weren’t pieces of who he really was. Fabrics of his character torn out thread by thread and poked and needled at by societies curious hands.

They were just pieces, stretched and torn so far from the truth but yet the original strings were still there, hanging on in remembrance of what he truly was chaotically intertwined in the lies and deception of what people thought him to be. Too shredded to be properly understood but still thriving in the undercurrents of whatever he was now being labeled as and people were now foolishly believing him to be.

Yes, they were just labels. But labels that were not so far from factual truths.

However again, none of those words mattered to him as much as this did, as much as the one label that he truly cared about.

Husband.

Your husband.

The only title he held in the same esteem as Batman and Wayne Enterprises CEO, perhaps even higher. It was one of the only labels that carried a semblance of true meaning, one he didn’t shy from.

Husband. It was the only honorific that mattered to him, one of the only sentiments that made him feel actual pride in who he was. Husband was something real, concrete, not some anonymous opinion in a paper or a cruel murmur in a hallway.

It was the label that pierced him through and through especially in moments like this, moments when your hips were rolling deeply on top of his and he was buried balls deep inside your warmth.

He couldn’t think about anything in this moment. Nothing and everything at the same time as your finger nails, freshly manicured and glittering, gripped into his shoulder blades as you rolled your hips once again.

Bruce winced pleasantly, jaw clenching as his head leaned back into the softness of his black silken pillows. Brown hair frazzled and stringy, his smooth skin alight with a soft, lovesick glow.

You rolled your hips once more in a soft soothing motion, nothing too rough and nothing too fast; the evening had called for something more sensual in the delicacy of Bruce’s touch and the softness of his words just an hour prior.

“Oh Bruce…” You sighed dreamily, hands pressing into his bulky arms as he sighed out a trembled breath from his nose.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his heavy hands squeezing your hips but not as to pressure you, only to keep you connected to him at the hilt so he was never too far out of you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, get it just like that… mmhmm.” Bruce swallowed heavily, voice low and raw as his eyebrows furrowed over darkened hazel eyes. Fingers thrumming on your skin as you pulsed around him, wetness seeping out of your full entrance and gliding down his length until it could leave a memorable darkened patch on the sheets.

You whined quietly, voice high pitched and greedy as the length of him filled you up and pressed into every soft wall surrounding him. He was always thick, always perfect, always felt so fucking good it made your muscles tense and spasm.

You rolled your body in that delectable way he liked once more, barely moving yet every part of him felt the sparks of pleasure thrum through his skin and make his thighs lock up.

Bruce groaned hotly at the action, eyes flickering down to the wet mess of where your pussy was sucking him in. It was messy, glistening, shared arousal in white strings of mutual attraction. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass from where it sat perched on his strong thighs.

“Mm, fuck, honey.” Bruce breathed out gruffly more to himself than you when the sight of your wetness smeared all over him made his heart spike.

You didn’t respond, chin down to your chest and eyes closed as you focused on the pleasure in your own lower regions, the fullness and heaviness that filled you up and refused to part.

“Ohhh, feels so good-“ You gasped as a heavy spurt of pure pleasure sparked up your tummy, hole clenching around him tightly as an obscene gush of wetness leaked down his cock and onto his thighs.

Bruce licked his dry lips, eyes staring up at you heatedly; at the tightness of your shut eyes, the sweet moans gasping out of parted lips — lips, lips that were glossy and plush from all the needy kisses you shared with him just a mere moments ago.

He was enraptured by you, by your naked physique all soft and sweaty on top of him but he didn’t care. You were just so beautiful, pussy so perfect wrapped around him, squeezing his cock so good it made his mind fog up with indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, sweetheart, god, yesss…” Bruce agreed huskily, his head resting back on his pillow once more as you bucked your hips. His thighs tensed, toes curled, a grunt sounding in his throat as his hips rose to further dig himself inside you.

He couldn’t help it; like a soul to a light he sought you out, your warmth and tightness so snug and comforting around him he didn’t ever want to be apart from you.

You whimpered at the intrusion, nails digging into his skin in a painful sting that Bruce was too fucked out to really notice.

He swallowed hazily below you, eyes closing then opening to look down at the way your pussy molded into one with his hard cock as you rocked gently against him. Deep inside you where he was meant to be, stomach and pelvis and thick thighs soaked with your gushing arousal.

Fire shooting down his legs and tummy with every soft bounce back down on him, illicit wet noises sounding in the room with every desperate grind.

He loved that sound, your wetness mashing with his thick base. But not nearly as much as your melodic sounds gasping out every so often because his cock made you feel that good.

His mouth was terribly dry from his own grunts and moans, handsome face and muscular chest flushed pink, the air so so hot he could feel his own dark hair sticking to the dew on his fevered head.

His hands, big and clammy, dug into the soft fat of your hips to help you dig into him in that way you both liked, the one that had you both gasping hotly into each others mouths as you leaned down to give him another sloppy kiss.

You couldn’t quite get it right though, too distracted by the feel of him so deep inside you that your lips stuttered on his. Moving messily against him as you whined into his mouth once more, the tip of his cock so high up inside you it almost hurt.

He was always so big, so round and tall that the stretch alone always seemed to ache pleasurably with every short thrust he made inside you.

“That’s good, sweetheart… that’s it… just how you know I like it…”

Bruce breathed heavily against your lips from where you were leaned on top of him, naked breasts mashed to his chiseled chest and hands gripping onto the headboard now.

You needed something sturdy, something unbreakable to tether you back to him when you felt the pleasure making you float too far.

His breath was hot against your sore lips, mingled with your low moans and spoken just above the subtle creaks of the bed; sounding every time you moved above him in a sensually quickened pace that had your toes curling and thighs tensing.

“So beautiful, sweetheart, so good…”

Bruce couldn’t help but compliment you even in the most nasty of times, voice clenched yet breathy, spoken through hot breaths and pressed teeth as your wetness dripped down his length once more.

You moaned sweetly at his doting words, his voice cracked and low in that gravelly salacious tone you loved so much.

You clenched around him in response, his fingers tightening on you as he let out a handsome groan from the feeling. You watched as his head sunk into the pillow beneath him, eyes clenched shut and a heavy grunt leaving his chest.

The sight was attractive, seeing him so wrecked from just a few simple back and forth motions you were carefully orchestrating.

You felt a wave of stinging pleasure spike up your thighs and down your legs, up your tummy and into your head until your whole body was tingling. Your eyes brimming with unshed tears as sweat prickled at your skin and your legs burned from sitting for so long.

You didn’t care about the pain, too drunk on the sensations of his thickness rubbing inside the most intimate part of you, your hips rolling in desperate circular motions so he was never completely apart from you. You liked keeping him inside as much as possible, to feel that fullness and that dull burn to remind you of just how big he was.

Bruce loved it too, resting inside your warmth, comfortable, letting you take him however you wanted in whatever way you needed. He was always a giver, always a good husband when you needed him to be.

“F-fuck, Bruce, you feel so good.” You gasped wantonly, voice quiet yet fragmented, needy and breathless as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah, honey? It feels good?” Bruce replied just as quietly, being sure to thrust up into you just a little bit harder so you’d gasp some more for him.

It was lewd, lovely, his dirty words spoken onto your quivering lips and his meaty hands gripping your thighs to help aid in your eager movements.

It felt so good, so right, being there with him in the darkness of his room with only the sound of your shared panting and moans filling the silence.

It was hot and perfect; his hands on your thighs gripping hard enough to show you he doesn’t want you to stop, your mouths ever so often pecking together in a sweet kiss you couldn’t continue, fond gazes in darkened irises.

“Feels so good, Bruce, I can’t—“ You whimpered out all cutely, sliding up from his chest until you were sitting straight up once more. You could feel him shift inside of you, hardness still prominent and throbbing. He pressed against your walls, invading every nerve point as your clit rubbed against his naval in the new position.

Bruce gripped the flesh of your ass between his hands, helping your soft rocking motions against him as he spoke, “Yes you can, pretty girl, you always do for me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart, you have no idea…”

The praise made you smile brokenly. Your skin so hot it felt burning yet every grind against your husbands hard cock made your legs go numb. You whined and bucked above him as a tightness started to stretch in your tummy.

“Always for you, baby…” You managed to mumble shakily, lovingly, hands sliding over the abs on his stomach as you sat back on his lap so not a single inch of him wasn’t inside you.

Bruce clenched his jaw at that, hands digging into your hips as he thrust his own up to meet your soft grinds. Sparks, electricity, all of the cliche metaphors for how good he was feeling shooting down his cock and into his legs as his knees tensed up.

He felt lightheaded yet completely grounded, here to his mattress. Floating in the skies yet simultaneously stuck on earth with you, his gorgeous wife who always made him feel sane and normal.

Your hair was tangled around your shoulders and falling over your flushed cheeks as you stared down at him with a fond glimmer in your eyes, bright and burning under the lust so boldly wanting.

The stretch of him inside you was so good, his gravelly moans so good, the way he was making you feel so so good.

You exhaled as you settled your weight down on his pelvis, pussy sore yet eager as you squeezed around him once more. Love struck eyes looking down at him passionately as the moon cascaded a light gray glow behind you.

Bruce felt the air escape his lungs, lips parted as he stared up at you in utter devotion; you were so beautiful, so sweet, felt so fucking good around him he couldn’t even think straight. Brain numb and thoughtless, only you and your perfect pussy, you, you, you.

You took a moment to stare back at him. Unspoken love was whispered in the shadows of your eyes bright and glittering as your movements picked up into polite, subtle bounces that had Bruce digging his hands into you, breathy sounds escaping his lips.

“Ah, Bruce…” You mumbled weakly, voice soft and needy as you tossed your head back and moved your hips up and down so his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you he usually loved to tease.

“Such a good job, sweetheart, so beautiful like this…” Bruce spoke huskily, staring at your heaving breasts as they jiggled and beckoned him forth, beautiful and pure as you rode him to high heaven in your most organic form.

You hummed into a delicate moan, a smile quirked on your lips at his praise as you felt his hands slowly start crawling up the exposed expanse of your waist.

Warm and big and tender as they moved up, up, gentle fingers tracing over your ribcage as your flesh prickled at the touch. He was delicate, always intent on your pleasure over his as he admired your form above him, the feel of your skin under his textured hands that had hurt so many.

You trusted him, your husband, enough to see you like this. Trusted him enough to have you like this, to allow his bloodstained hands to wash over you like he himself was something pure and untainted, bestowing him your presence like a merciful deity to their promised worshipper.

You bit your lip as his palms enveloped the fat of your breasts into them, molded perfectly into his larger hands as he squeezed and admired them in a fashion so familiar for him; he always loved your breasts, enamored with the softness and weight of them in his greedy hands.

You stared down at him with a heated tenderness, the look of a wife irrevocably in love with their husband as he stared up at you with the same fervor.

When he was here, with you, there were no labels, no obligations and no judgments. With you he was just yours, another body made of flesh and blood and bone melded to yours in the conjunction of where his body ended and yours began.

He was no one but he was your everything, hands on skin and lips on collarbones, sweat amongst sweat and heady moans breathed in the gasps of kisses shared between two lovesick spouses.

In this space, in this moment, with you on top of him and his hands all over you any remnants of shame and Wayne inspired obligation was vacant. All he needed to do was sit and let you take him, sit there and be of use when you wanted to use him.

He was a good husband, the best husband to you, his perfect and lovely wife who never addressed him as anything more than yours. He wasn’t this, he wasn’t that, he was just everything and more in the confines of silken sheets under the safety of his mansion.

No cameras, no gossip, no press and no watchful eyes. Serene, tranquil, just you and him and the great love you shared that transcended any label or common sense humanity could fathom.

Yes, he was Bruce Wayne. Eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy. But those things did not define him, did not set his reality in stone so easily as your love did. He was all those things but he was so much more.

You never judged him, looked at him as anything more than the most important thing. You regarded him with love no matter his past, his present, and hopefully and most likely your shared future.

You didn’t care for labels or surface value lies like everyone else did. You ripped him at his seams, tore him apart to see what was inside and he was ever so grateful for it, for that loving animosity that bared his soul to yours. You were straightforward, heart to heart or nothing at all because then what was the point?

There was no purpose without pain, without pleasure, without love. You suffered, you loved, and you were most definitely bringing him pleasure. All blunt and raw emotions too passionate and loud to ever try and hide or make lies about. No secrets, no deception, no labels.

This night, every night just like this one — nights spent in your arms deep inside where he needed to be most, were nights where his mind was bare and he was just yours. Nights when he didn’t have to put up a face or make up a lie or tell a tall tale.

He was Bruce, he was yours, he was just this. And most importantly, he was just your husband. The only label that really mattered and the only one he ever really cared about. ₊˚⊹♡

tagging , @little-miss-chaoss , @ghostslillady , @boobaeri , @prayingal

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[festivalsofmargot]

Selfless {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Follow up to Pretty Thoughts. (I tried to write in a way you could follow what’s going on without needing to read the last part though, so jump in if you’d like!) Sebastian isn’t waiting for your permission to help you with your assignments anymore. He knows what he wants, and he’s going after it. Takes place after MC meets Anne and before Seb’s final quest. Your Hogwarts house is up to you.

Word Count: ~ 1,700

Warnings: Kissing

Author’s Note: If he wanted to, he would is the fanfic lesson of the day. This one’s a bit shorter than my others, but I feel like so much more happened! I finished up this one quicker than I thought, so I’m going to be sneaky and edit here and there if I see any typos (my worst nightmare). Hope everyone’s having a good day 🙂

Songs (if interested):

Run Away to Mars - TALK

Greek Tragedy - The Wombats

Mr. Rager - Kid Cudi

The World - TeZATalks

Sebastian was lounging on a couch in the Slytherin common room, one hand behind his head, the other rubbing at his lips. He was trying to remember the feel of your mouth on his when you had kissed him in the library. He knew a memory wasn’t the most reliable thing, but he could have sworn he felt your tongue at one point. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance remembering the part where the two of you had to pull apart because you heard Madam Scribner approaching.

He was going to try to get another kiss in after the two of you would have left the library together. But something shifted in your mood and you ran off without him. He had been confuzzled about it ever since. It couldn’t have been that he was a bad kisser, he didn’t think the two of you would have stopped if you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

He had tried to catch you before you left the castle that morning, but you were nowhere to be found. He was learning fast that it wasn’t going to be easy making you his. He needed to step it up, because you were a slippery one. Just when he thought he had you in the palm of his hand, you were gone.

He decided to stop moping and take action. He shot up off the couch and went to find a few people who he was thankful were easier to find.

-

When Sebastian arrived back on campus, he was covered in scrapes and bruises, and he absolutely reeked of dirt and sweat. Merlin’s beard, was this what you did nearly every day? He needed to toughen up if he wanted to keep up with you. 

After going to find Poppy and Natty, he had asked them about everything they had planned on helping you with. He told them he would take over, lying and saying he had similar assignments. He built up quite the list: Horklumps that could only be found in caves filled with ginormous spiders, ashwinder eggs he had to find hiking in the rockiest of places, and even bogeys he had managed to knock out a troll for. The professors had no hesitancy throwing you in the deep end, did they?

He was almost worried he bit off more than he could chew, but he had managed to complete the list, making the fatigue he felt oddly satisfying.

Despite being aware of his untidy state, he headed towards the dining hall. He thanked his lucky stars he had made it back before dinner time ended. He needed to get food in him or he would faint.

A majority of the students were gone, having already gotten their fill. He began making his way to find a seat, enchanted bag in hand. But among the few students left in the dining hall, he caught sight of you. Luck was officially on his side that day, he didn’t think he would have found you at all that weekend. He headed your way, wanting to walk faster but the soreness in his legs wouldn’t allow him. 

He plopped the bag on the table, startling you. He didn’t wait for you to say anything and slumped down in the empty spot next to you, too tired to lift his legs over the bench. He leaned his elbows back on the table and let his head fall back.

After allowing himself a brief moment to finally do nothing but sit that day, he met your questioning gaze and he gestured to the bag with his chin. “Hope this helps.”

You squinted your eyes at him, trying to work out what he was talking about. 

“Go on. Open it.”

You grabbed the bag and peeked inside. It didn’t take long for you to realize it had a charm to fit what looked like a dozen large jars. Getting a closer look, you realized they were full of items you needed for your latest assignments.

“Sebastian...” A proud smile tugged at his lips at the pleasant surprise in your voice. He leaned his head back again, another wave of exhaustion hitting him.

“I told you I wanted to help you.”

“This is... amazing. I -...” You were at a loss for words, shaking your head in disbelief. “I owe you, Sebastian. Please, let me know how I can repay you.”

He glanced back at you, raising a brow. “What are you going on about? You don’t owe me a thing.”

Something warm and fuzzy formed in your chest. This was not the Sebastian you first met. What ever happened to the Slytherin who was so eager to have people in his debt?

“Then why would you - …?”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” He smirked.

You looked back down into the bag, hiding the smirk of your own that formed. “Please do.”

He loosely took your hand in his. He would have grabbed it with a firmer hold if he could, but his forearms were aching too much. “You make me nervous too.”

You looked up to return his gaze and your heart fluttered. 

“I’d do anything you’d ask of me.” The way he said it while looking deep into your eyes, as if he needed you to understand he meant it, made you want to melt. He gave your hand a quick squeeze. “Please don’t run off.”

Finding your voice, you assured with a whisper, “I won’t.” You squeezed his hand back.

He smiled, relief overwhelming him. “Now that we’ve got that settled,” he gave your hand a quick kiss. Releasing it, he swung his legs over the bench to face the mouth watering platters. “I hate to ask, but could you help me get some of the food onto my plate. I think my arms are going to fall off.”

The two of you laughed and you happily obliged.

-

“Food really does taste better after a day like this.” Sebastian sighed, dreamily thinking back on how the first bite of many had made him want to cry.

“It does. I don’t know how I’ll survive when we don’t have Hogwarts cooking to come home to.” You replied as the two of you made your way to the Slytherin common room. You were going to drop him off and then head out to do your astronomy assignment. Once again, Sebastian had offered to come with, but seeing how he was practically asleep on his feet, you pleaded for him to get washed up and straight to bed.

Standing outside of the Slytherin common room, Sebastian let out a long exhale, thinking about how close to his bed he was. Oh how he wanted to collapse onto it. He looked to you. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

“You will.” You smiled at him.

He smiled back and turned to make his way into the common room.

“Sebastian, wait.” You grabbed for his hand with the gentlest touch. He stopped walking and faced you again.

“Yes?”

“I know you’re tired, but...” You drifted off as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. 

Though he was exhausted, he mustered up all the energy he could to kiss you back, hoping he would catch some kind of a second wind. 

He tasted earthy and salty from the dirt and sweat that covered him. The hand that cupped your neck felt extra rough and callused then, but you didn’t care. Thinking about everything he had done for you that day, you wanted more of him. Your tongue just barely licked his bottom lip and it sent a shiver up his spine.

Truth be told, you always went a little mad when he was disheveled and sweaty like this. Whenever he needed to take off his robes and roll up his sleeves, it made you weak. He especially caught your eye after dueling matches, he would be worn out with clothes and hair disordered. You always ached to stroke his hair back into place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He reciprocated by wrapping his arms around your lower back. He wanted to lift you off the ground but his muscles painfully screamed in protest. So he settled for just biting at your bottom lip instead, eliciting a light moan from you.

You weren’t masters of kissing yet. Still learning the ropes, the two of you could only do what felt right in the moment, be it little nips or licks here and there. Neither of you seemed to mind, however.

The echoing sounds of students chattering and making their way down the stairs stopped your kiss. He sighed into your neck, still holding you close. “We need to find better places to do this.” And with one final kiss to your jaw he pulled away.

“Probably for the best, you need to get some rest.” You told him, straightening your shirt.

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” His eyelids were heavy, and you thought it was the most precious you’d ever seen him. 

“You’re adorable.” You told him with a cheeky smile you couldn’t hide.

“Oh, please never call me that again.” He rubbed roughly at his eyes, too sleepy to be that annoyed with your words.

You took subtle glances to see if anyone around you was looking your way. When you felt you were in the clear, you snuck a peck to his cheek, surprising him. “See you at breakfast.” And off you went.

He watched after you. You gave him quite the reward for his actions that day, he ought to do stuff like this more often.

Someone behind him gagged. “My word!” Sebastian, startled, turned to see Ominis with a face contorted in pure disgust. “You smell putrid!”

Sebastian could only nod in agreement. “I’m aware. Now, help me into the common room, will you? I think I’m about to collapse.”

Ominis scoffed “I am going nowhere near you.” He began towards the common room without him.

“Ominis, please, I’m not joking.”

[solaireverie]

sv5 | stars all aligned and they intertwined

pairing: sebastian vettel x f!singer!reader

summary: [ social media au ] despite parting ways years ago, you and sebastian somehow find each other again (or: sebastian becomes your wag after his retirement)

warnings: language

faceclaim: anne hathaway + pinterest

author's note: seb is literally the definition of a wife guy. i love him so much. enjoy!

liked by phoebebridgers, oceanblvd, sebastianvettel and 3,459,127 others

yourusername the biggest thank you to everyone who came last night. i adore adore adore all of you with my whole entire heart ❤️

view comments

user MOTHERRRRR I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE!!!!!!

↪ yourusername i'm so glad you enjoyed it 🥰

↪ user holy shit y/n l/n replied to me i can die happy now 😵‍💫

user the finger in the first pic??? y/n girl are you trying to tell us something 🤨

↪ user i don't get it? does it mean anything special?

↪ user it's one of the most famous celebrations of ex-formula 1 driver sebastian vettel. they dated a while ago and he was at her concert last night!!!!

↪ user awww that's cute 🥺

sebastianvettel Always lovely to see you again 😄

↪ yourusername likewise 💕

liked by sebastianvettel, gigihadid, charles_leclerc and 874,935 others

tagged: sebastianvettel

yourusername behind the scenes 🎥

view comments

user new music soon??? 👀👀👀

↪ yourusername maybe 😉

charles_leclerc 🤍🤍🤍

↪ yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user seb and charles in the likes 😳 ariana what are you doing here?

↪ user seb's also tagged lololololol the rumors are terrible and cruel but honey most of them are (probably) true ✨

sebastianvettel Mein engel ❤️ [ my angel ]

↪ yourusername mein weltmeister (und fotograf) 💕 [ my world champion (and photographer) ]

↪ user absolutely unwell over this interaction. what do you mean seb took the photos. why are they calling each other pet names in german. UNWELL.

↪ charles_leclerc trust me it's worse in person

liked by lewishamilton

↪ user charles?!?!?!??!?! lewis?!?!??!?!??! y/n's collecting all the fast car boys fr 😭

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 481,359 others

tagged: yourusername

sebastianvettel These hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me

view comments

yourusername this love is alive back from the dead ❤️

liked by sebastianvettel

user THEY'RE SO FREAKING CUTE?????????

user so happy for them 🥺 it was really obvious that they were in love and that it was just bad timing the first time around...

charles_leclerc mom & dad :)

↪ yourusername who taught him this??? charles darling i'm afraid i'm not quite at that age yet

↪ danielricciardo i claim the fifth

↪ yourusername you're not even american 😑

user the caption sounds a lot like a lyric 👀

liked by yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, dyl.an, billboard and 7,936,872 others

tagged: sebastianvettel

yourusername I fell terribly in love with someone when I was in my mid-twenties, before either of us knew who we were. It was a love that people write tragedies about, a cautionary tale told to children for years to come, a car wreck you can’t look away from. In the end, I walked away from everything we’d built with tears in my eyes and walls around my heart. 

I don’t regret the paths I chose and sacrifices I made. The starkest realizations I’ve had about myself came in the days after, when I cried myself to sleep and pretended I didn’t know his name. I created some of my most beautiful music when I couldn’t enter a room without seeing him in the crowd. I grew from the experience the way forests grow back after a wildfire.

However, I always regretted letting go of him. He was the one I knew I could always count on, the one who held me in my darkest days, the one whose smile I searched for wherever I went, despite knowing I was the one who erased it from my life.

Ten years later, after I had already buried everything we once shared, I received a text from an unknown number. 

What came next is well-documented in pictures, notes scribbled on coffee cups, and train tickets across Europe. While we may have been the right person at the wrong time a decade ago, patience rewards those who wait.

I found myself falling for him all over again. It felt like a homecoming and a rebirth at the same time. We had changed and matured in our time apart, but we still knew each other like the backs of our hands. At his core, he is still the man I loved, and something in my soul knew that. 

Love is a strange thing. It is something we feel deep in our beings yet something we will never fully understand. It is untameable, maddening, and fickle. It is also enchanting, captivating, and thrilling. If there’s someone in your life who loves you, count yourself lucky. If you love someone, I hope they appreciate you.

This album is both a love letter to him and for him. It is an ode to his figure against the sunrise and arms around my waist. It’s a time capsule of carnival games, elaborate bouquets, and endless late-night conversations. I treasure each and every second I get with you, especially the ones we spent writing some of the tracks together.

My love, adore adore adore is yours.

comments on this post have been limited

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist

for the nerds like me, here's a breakdown of y/n's music in this verse

[overrboarrd]

sanctuary [2]: ghost of you

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clarke [oc]

warnings: hospital setting, mentions of spousal/sibling loss

word count: 4.5k

a/n: this one's kinda heavy, maybe not as much as the prologue but brace yourselves. sorry for getting it to y'all kinda late, i had midterms and a capstone and hella papers to do but, once again, we made it! let me know what y'all think. <3

Roman leaned against the cold tile wall of the firehouse shower, letting the scorching water beat down on his neck and shoulders. Five days straight. Five days of putting out fires, saving lives, and pushing his body to the limit. Normally, he welcomed the distraction—it kept him from thinking too much. But lately, his mind had been wandering to things he couldn’t control.

He was there again, standing in the smoke-filled yard, his heart pounding as the flames consumed the building. Echoes of the sirens screaming and the other firefighters shouting around him. And there they were, the nine words that would haunt his memory forever.

“There’s someone else inside,”

“I don’t have time, Ro.”

Time. 

That was the last time Roman heard his brother’s voice. The last time he had the chance to save him, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. His own name being the last thing his brother ever said to him. Roman opened his eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of the locker room pulling him out of the past, but the weight of grief stayed, pressing down on his chest like a vise.

Roman shook his head and stepped out of the shower. He couldn’t let himself get trapped in his thoughts, not when he had a job to do and a team to lead. The shower did little to relieve the tension that remained in his body as he finished getting dressed. His heavy steel toed boots carried him down the hall to the equipment room where it was quiet; the only sound being the soft clink of metal as he hung his polished helmet in the locker.

“Roman?”

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Randy, his teammate, stood at the doorway with a small yet knowing smile on his face. “You good, man? Looks like you’re about to go ten rounds with that helmet.”

Roman glanced down at his hands. He hadn’t even realized he was gripping the helmet so tightly. “Yeah,” he paused, “Just putting the rest of my stuff away.”

Randy didn’t buy it but didn’t push. Leaving Roman with a small nod, he walked back into the lounge with Damian and Drew, the rest of Roman’s squad. The three of them had been a part of his lifeline since Daniel’s death. Together, they formed a tight unit, the kind of brotherhood one could only find in a firehouse.

In those first few weeks after the accident, when Roman was too numb to feel anything and too angry to express it, the squad stepped up. Randy was the oldest of the group, a seasoned veteran who’d seen more than his share of tragedy. He offered the kind of quiet support Roman needed, never pushing him to talk but always making sure he wasn’t drowning in silence. Sometimes, Randy would sit with Roman after a tough shift, handing him a cold beer and making casual conversation about the job, easing him into normalcy.

Damian, with his laid-back personality, had his own way of helping Roman cope. He’d crack jokes at the most unexpected times, forcing Roman to crack a smile even when it felt impossible. He had this uncanny ability to lighten the mood without dismissing the heaviness they all carried. Whenever Roman had one of those days where the weight of loss bore down harder than usual, Damian was the one who made sure they got out of the firehouse to toss the football around for a few, or go for a round at the bar.

Drew, the youngest of the group, had gone through his own version of hell a few years before. He was the one Roman ended up confiding in the most when the grief felt like it was suffocating him. Drew would sit with him after late shifts, talking through the pain in a way that only someone who’d experienced loss could. He knew the right things to say��or when to say nothing at all. With Drew, there was no expectation to have it all together.

Grabbing the small backpack that held his things, Roman made his way out to where the guys were, finishing up their meals before the shift change. The TV was on, though none of them seemed to be paying much attention to it. They were too busy talking about their last call, the adrenaline of it still fresh.

“Man, that kid was lucky,” Randy said, taking a long drink from his water bottle and shaking his head. “One second longer in that car, and it would’ve been over.”

Damian nodded, his face thoughtful. “Yeah, but I’ll tell you what—I can’t handle when kids are involved. Messes with my head every time.”

Roman sat down on the couch next to Drew, his usual silence enveloping him. It was one of the reasons he liked working with his group; they didn’t push him to talk. But Damian’s comment lingered in the air. Everyone had something that got to them—an image, a sound, something they couldn’t shake.

His chest tightened as the words hung in the air, unspoken but understood by all of them. The job took its toll, physically and mentally. You couldn’t save everyone. Roman knew that all too well. He hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t been able to stop his brother. All the training in the world, all the strength he had, and it still wasn’t enough. He tried to shake it off, but some scars just ran too deep.

“You alright, Roman?” Drew's thick Scottish accent asked lowly so that only Roman could hear, giving him a sideways glance. All the guys knew not to push too hard, but Drew always had a way of sensing when something was weighing on him.

“Yeah,” Roman muttered, taking a sip from his water before sitting the bottle on the table and slouching against the couch. “Just tired s’all. Ready to go home to my daughter.”

“Ah,” Drew nodded slightly. “How's the little one?”

Roman stiffened, a pang of guilt rippling through him. “She’s…good. I’m just doing what I have to,” he said, trying to brush it off, but the truth was more complicated. Adopting Audrey had been both the hardest and the most rewarding thing he’d ever done. But there were days, like today, when he questioned if he was doing right by her. 

“You’re doing great,” Drew, always perceptive, reassured. “Don’t forget that.”

Roman offered a tight nod, but inside, the doubt lingered. The guilt that gnawed at him, the feeling that no matter how much he tried, he would never be able to fill the void Daniel left behind.

•────────────────•

About an hour later, Roman found himself walking up the steps to his house, exhaustion setting in from the long shift. The house was quiet, the early morning light filtering through the windows, casting a faint glow over the familiar furniture. He set his bag down by the door, trying not to wake anyone. Jey was already at the house, staying with Audrey while he was on shift. His cousins had been a godsend, always willing to step in when he had to be away. But it was too quiet. It always felt like that after he’d been gone for a few days, the silence somehow amplifying all the things he wasn’t here to see.

Without thinking, Roman moved upstairs toward Audrey’s room. The door creaked open, and he leaned against the frame, watching her sleep. She was small under the blankets, clutching her favorite stuffed animal, a gray plush rabbit she named ‘Kitty’. Her chest rose and fell in soft, even breaths, completely at peace. Roman’s heart clenched. He loved her more than anything in this world.  He stepped into the room and knelt by her bed, brushing a loose curl of hair away from her face. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake up, lost in whatever dream children dream. For a moment, all the noise in his head quieted, and he allowed himself to just feel the love he had for his little girl. She wasn’t just his responsibility—she was his reason for pushing through the darkest days.

With a heavy sigh, Roman kissed her temple, stood and quietly left her room, heading downstairs where he found Jey in the kitchen.

“You’re back early, Uce,” Jey said, lifting his coffee mug in greeting. “Everything go alright at the station?”

Roman shook his head, leaning against the kitchen island after stretching out his tired muscles. “Had a close call with a kid today. Wanted to come home earlier.” Jey nodded as Roman continued. “What about y’all? How’s she doing?”

“Little cousin’s an angel, as always,” Jey said with a small grin. “Stayed up last night watching the game with me and Jim before he left.”

Roman shot him a slightly annoyed glance, “Y’all know she’s not supposed to be staying up too late.” 

“I know man, but aye, you try saying no to her when she starts her lil’ pout thing.” Jey shrugs, “Plus the 49ers and the Seahawks was playing and she wanted to watch.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Roman’s lips before his hand ran over his face, stopping at his beard. “Can’t believe y’all got my daughter hooked on football.” He chuckled softly.  

“Exactly, your daughter, Uce. You shoulda seen it coming.” Jey added with a smile before finishing his coffee and grabbing his wallet and keys. “Oh, before I forget, me and Jim invited your new neighbor to the cookout this weekend.” 

Roman’s brow raised. Granted, he hadn’t been home for a few days, but nothing outside the house seemed different when he pulled in earlier. “What new neighbor?”

Jey’s mouth opened to speak, but he shut it just as quickly. A smirk formed on his lips as he walked halfway out of the front door.

“You’ll see.”

The sun peeked through the blinds of the nearly vacant room, casting soft shadows across the vinyl floor, but Azure felt far away from the warm Florida light. She sat up on the air mattress slowly, the weight of her dream still pressing heavily on her chest. Her mind was still trapped in the memory of D.C., of the home she had once shared, a time when she believed the world was whole.

The dream had started so sweetly, a memory she once treasured——the two of them unpacking, teasing each other about their new life together. The smell of fresh paint lingered in the air, and they had laughed over the chaos of settling in.They were shuffling boxes around the living room, deciding where each piece of their new life together would go. Her husband’s smile was as vivid in the dream as it had been in life, and for a few fleeting moments, everything felt normal, as if he had never left.

But then his expression had shifted. His eyes had softened with a kind of sadness that Azure recognized all too well, even in the fog of sleep. “I miss you,” he had whispered. His brown eyes, once full of life, seemed to look through her. "I wish I could still be with you, Azure." That was when the dream turned sour, the warm light of their new home dimming until it faded completely, leaving only the ache of loss behind.

The sorrow in his voice had pierced her soul, and she had reached out for him, but he was already fading. The dream blurred into confusion as the sound of his words echoed in her mind, each syllable a reminder of what she had lost. Now, wide awake and alone in her new home, Azure could still hear him. She buried her face in her hands, trying to shake the feeling that he was just out of reach, still waiting for her.

Cursing under her breath, she checked the time—she was running late. Azure dragged herself out of bed, feeling hollow. She stumbled into the bathroom, blinking against the harsh light as it flickered on. The mirror reflected a version of herself she unfortunately recognized—tired eyes, disheveled curls, and the faintest trace of tear streaks from where her cheeks had been damp with emotion in her sleep. The sadness she’d felt in the dream had seeped into her waking hours, turning every movement sluggish, every thought weighed down by a familiar grief.

She ran her hands under cold water, splashing it onto her face as if the shock might somehow wake her from this emotional haze. But the flashes of the dream continued to assault her, memories of her husband’s voice lingering in the back of her mind. Azure leaned over the sink, gripping the edges of the counter tightly. She had been doing so well lately, she thought—moving to Pensacola, starting fresh—but mornings like these felt like setbacks, reminders that grief was never linear. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let them fall freely this time, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The bathroom felt too small, too confining, and her sorrow expanded, filling the space. Her husband was gone, and no matter how many times she tried to accept it, the pain would sneak up on her in moments like this—unexpected and overwhelming.

After a few moments, Azure straightened up, taking a deep breath. She wiped her face with a towel, trying to steady herself. She didn’t have the luxury of falling apart—not today. She was already running late for work, and the last thing she needed was for Bianca or anyone else at the hospital to see how unraveled she felt. She had a job to do, patients to take care of, and a new life to build. It was why she had moved in the first place, wasn’t it? A chance to leave the ghosts of the past behind. Even if they seemed to follow her no matter where she went. No one knew about her husband, about the life she’d left behind in D.C. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to share that part of herself yet. 

As she finished getting ready, the memory of the dream continued to flicker at the edges of her mind, but she pushed it down, burying it beneath layers of routine. She dressed quickly, pulled her hair back into a low bun, and grabbed her bag before heading for the door. When she stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit her face, grounding her for a moment. She stood on the porch, taking a deep breath, before locking the door. It was a new life, she reminded herself. A chance to move forward. But as she started to walk toward her car, a small figure caught her eye. The little girl from across the street, with her dark curls and wide, curious eyes, was waving at her. Azure felt an unexpected smile tug at the corners of her mouth, and she waved back, her heart lightening for just a second. 

Then she noticed the man standing next to the girl. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a stern expression etched into his features. He was watching her, his dark eyes sharp, as if trying to place her. Azure hesitated for a moment. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out from where. He gave her a brief, quizzical nod, his expression never softening, and Azure, flustered by the encounter, quickly turned and rushed to her car. She didn’t have time to dwell on the interaction. She was already running late, and today was not the day to make a bad impression at work. Azure hesitated, feeling his gaze linger on her. She wasn’t sure why, but something about the way he looked at her made her feel like she was being assessed. She gave a brief, awkward wave before quickly heading for her car, trying to shake off the unease.

•────────────────•

The morning traffic didn’t help Azure’s mood, and by the time she pulled into the hospital parking lot, she was already running far too behind. As she hurried into the hospital, her priority was getting through the shift.

Inside, the busy hum of the pediatric wing helped drown out the lingering emotions from her dream. Azure clocked in and found herself at the nurses' station, where Bianca, the lead pediatric nurse, was already reviewing the day’s assignments. As soon as Bianca looked up, she frowned slightly.

“Morning, Azure,” Bianca greeted her warmly, though her perceptive eyes were quick to take in Azure’s slightly disheveled appearance. “You look a little off today. Everything okay?”

Azure hesitated, her instinct to brush off the concern kicking in. She wasn’t one to unload her personal issues on others, especially not when there was work to be done. She forced a smile, even though the heaviness of the morning still clung to her like a shadow. “Just a rough night,” she said, her voice more casual than she felt. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Bianca studied her for a moment longer, clearly not entirely convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she offered a gentle smile. “Well, if you need anything, let me know. You’ve been doing a great job, and I’m sure today will be no different.”

The warmth in Bianca’s words made Azure feel a bit lighter, even if just for a moment. She gave a grateful nod, appreciating the encouragement but too distracted by the emotional weight she was carrying to fully absorb it. She threw herself into her work, trying to focus on the children she cared for. The hours passed by in a blur of routine tasks, but the emotional residue from the dream stayed with her, a constant undercurrent of sorrow.

Near the end of her shift, she was checking on a young boy recovering from a minor surgery. It was moments like these that reminded Azure why she loved her job, why helping others heal brought her some small measure of peace. Suddenly, she felt someone’s eyes on her. Glancing up, she saw Dr. Rollins standing in the doorway.  “Azure, I need to go over a few things with you before you head out.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. This is it. I’m about to get fired and I’ve only been here for a month. She managed to let out a quiet “Sure,” before following Dr. Rollins down the hall.

•────────────────•

Azure returned home after her shift, exhaustion pulling at every muscle as she dropped her keys onto the kitchen counter. Boxes she had yet to unpack loomed in the corner, silent reminders of the past she wasn’t quite ready to let go of. She stepped onto the front porch, hoping the warm Florida breeze might ease her nerves. The evening sky was tinged with shades of pink and gold, and the quiet of her suburban neighborhood felt comforting, if not a bit lonely. Azure closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, willing herself to relax. But her thoughts were too scattered to calm.

Across the street, she heard the distant sound of a child’s laughter. Her eyes flicked up instinctively, catching sight of the same little girl she saw a few days ago.This time, it wasn’t the twins that were with her. There was a man—tall, broad, and familiar—standing nearby, watching the girl with a soft expression, though his posture was still tense, like he was ready to jump into action if she needed him.

Roman.

She knew she’d see him again eventually, fully expecting it to be at the hospital.

But she did not expect to see him standing in the yard across the street. 

And what she definitely didn’t expect was her heart unexpectedly fluttering at the sight of him. 

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded in her direction as if deciding whether to approach. He walked towards her, crossing the street with easy strides, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans. Azure straightened slightly, unsure if she should wave or just wait for him to speak.

"Hey," he said when he reached the bottom of her porch steps. His voice was low, steady, just like she remembered. “Welcome to the neighborhood. Guess I should’ve said that earlier, just didn’t notice someone moved in.”

"Thanks" she replied, her own voice coming out quieter than she intended. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, unsure of what else to say.

Roman nodded, folding his arms across his chest, his posture relaxed but guarded. There was something unreadable in his expression, as if he was watching her, assessing. Like he was constantly on alert, always trying to stay in control of whatever was happening around him.

“I ran into your cousins the other day,” Azure continued, trying to break the silence. “Jimmy and Jey?”

“Did you?” Roman allowed a faint smile to cross his face. 

She nodded, "They practically insisted on helping me move everything in. Well, it sounded more like they were threatened into helping me move in."

A soft chuckle fell from his lips, causing Azure to feel that unfamiliar fluttering again. 

“They’re good guys. Always trying to help out where they can.”

"It helps that they’re so friendly," Azure added with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, unsure of what to say next. She could feel the weight of the conversation hanging between them.

Roman shifted slightly, his gaze flicking to the house before returning to her. “So, you’ve been working at the hospital a while now?”

“Just a couple of weeks,” Azure replied. “I moved here to… well, for a change, I guess. I needed something different.”

Roman nodded, though he didn’t press for more details. Azure could sense that he understood without needing to ask.

“That place can be a lot,” Roman said, his tone thoughtful. “The hospital, I mean. You see a lot in a short amount of time. It’s not easy.”

“I can handle it,” Azure said, her voice soft but firm. “I like helping the kids. It makes me feel like I’m making a difference.”

Roman studied her for a moment, as if weighing her words. “It’s good work. Not everyone can do it.”

Azure wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an observation, but she appreciated it nonetheless. There was something grounding about talking to him, even if he kept most of his thoughts to himself. He had a presence that made her feel like he could understand things without having to spell them out.

She sighed softly, looking down as her mind went back to the conversation she had with Dr. Rollins earlier in the day. It was good work. And Azure loved her job, but it seemed like for the past twenty-four hours, her emotions had almost put that at risk. 

Roman looked at her, his brow lifting slightly as he watched her, though his expression remained neutral. “What happened?”

“So, I had kind of a rough morning,” she began, trying to sound casual. “Ran late for work—had one of those mornings where everything just slows you down, you know?” Azure hesitated for a moment, unsure how much she should share about the emotional start to her day. But she pushed forward, deciding to keep it simple. “I guess just…adjusting to the move. It’s been kind of overwhelming at times.”

Roman nodded, his arms still crossed over his chest. His eyes softened slightly, as if he understood that feeling all too well.

“Anyway,” Azure continued, “I barely made it on time, and then Dr. Rollins called me into his office.”

At the mention of Dr. Rollins, she noticed a slight change in Roman’s posture. It was subtle—his shoulders tensed just a little, and his jaw seemed to set. He didn’t say anything, but the reaction was there. Quiet, but noticeable.

Azure paused, wondering if she should keep going, but she was already in the middle of the story. “He wanted to check in, see how I was adjusting to the job. I think I caught his attention because I was running behind this morning. We talked about how I’ve been handling the workload, the transition to a new place… that sort of thing.”

Roman’s gaze darkened just a fraction, and though he didn’t say anything right away, his silence felt heavier now. Azure could feel something unspoken hanging between them.

“How’d that go?” Roman asked, his voice calm but with a slight edge to it. It wasn’t aggressive, but it wasn’t as relaxed as before either.

“It was fine, I guess,” Azure said, unsure why Roman seemed so affected by the mention of Dr. Rollins. “He was nice, just… doing his job. Making sure I’m not overwhelmed, that I’m keeping up with things.”

Roman nodded slowly, but his eyes seemed distant for a moment. He shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms, and glanced toward the street, as if gathering his thoughts. There was something he wasn’t saying, something that made his reaction to Dr. Rollins more than just casual indifference.

“You work with him a lot?” Roman asked, his voice even quieter now.

“Not too much. Mostly with Bianca or Ms. B, but he’s the head of the department, so we cross paths.”

Roman didn’t respond right away. His eyes narrowed slightly as if he were trying to piece something together. His quiet intensity was beginning to feel a little more guarded than it had a moment ago.

Roman shrugged, but there was an unmistakable tension now, barely hidden under the surface. “Just be careful. He can be… hypocritical.”

There was a pause, the weight of Roman’s words lingering between them. Azure wasn’t sure how to respond. It was clear Roman had some kind of opinion about Dr. Rollins, but whatever it was, he wasn’t willing to go into detail. It left her feeling slightly unsettled.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice softening. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Roman nodded, but the quiet tension didn’t leave him. He shifted his focus back to her, his gaze slightly more guarded than before. Whatever his issue with Dr. Rollins was, it was clear it ran deeper than just a passing thought.

“So,” Roman said after a pause, “if you need anything—questions about the neighborhood, places to go, whatever—don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Azure nodded, feeling a warmth in his offer, even though he still seemed distant. “I appreciate that. I’ll definitely let you know if I need anything.”

There was a brief moment of silence between them, the kind where something more could be said, but neither of them took the step to say it.

“Well,” Roman said finally, taking a step back, “I should probably head back inside. Audrey’s probably getting into something she shouldn’t.”

Azure smiled at the mention of the little girl. “She seems sweet.”

“She is,” Roman replied, his tone softening just a fraction. There was something in his eyes then—something that flickered briefly but quickly disappeared, as if he’d pulled a curtain over whatever it was he wasn’t ready to share. “Anyway, welcome again. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Azure said, watching as Roman turned and headed back toward his house. “See you around.”

-

[katelynnwrites]

so long, london | sydney lohmann

warnings: angst once again

word count: 957

summary: you have to say goodbye to london because of sydney

a/n: the seventh and final installation of my 'the anthology' blurbs series

it was quite clear to you, the moment sydney became disinterested in your relationship.

she stopped flying out to london when she had free weekends and stopped asking when you could fly out to munich.

you kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.

until you couldn’t.

despite your attempts at pulling your girlfriend closer, each time she drifted away, it was futile.

syd simply didn’t want to be with you anymore.

you thought she had known the commitments of a long distance relationship. the confidence in which she had asked you out after playing against your club in the second leg of the uwcl quarterfinals had mistakenly led you to believe that.

so you stopped trying to make her laugh and instead, started thinking about how much sad she thought you had in you.

on your first date, the midfielder had taken you to a cute little coffee place that you had never been to or even heard of, despite living in london for years, the day after arsenal knocks her team out of the european competition.

it didn’t matter that she had a flight to catch later in the day, she made time for you.

she was sweet and warm and ever so attentive to you.

it drew you in easily, she drew you in easily and it was entirely unsurprising that you quickly became smitten with her.

you learned that she loved her coffee and it became a point whenever she flew in to see you, that the both of you would find a new coffee place to try.

it led to the two of you discovering all the nooks and crannies of the english city.

small parks, quaint little side streets and endearing out of the way cafes, you and syd explored them all.

you flew out to munich to see her too. sat in the stands of the bayern campus to watch her play, experienced her cooking which she insisted upon and fell in love with her somewhere along the way.

she told you she loved you too, made you believe her words with intimate kisses and touches.

honestly, it was a tragedy how the end of your relationship came about.

it wasn’t anything like how they showed it in the movies you watched growing up. or in the television dramas sydney loved watching.

there was no big fight and storming out or someone cheating on the other.

it was just a slow and inevitable sinking of the ship. it simply was bleak. and agonising. and oh so devastating.

you took a blow to your heart, the day you realised that you couldn’t remember the last time the blonde had told you she loved you.

‘i love you.’

three basic words that had meant the world to you when she had promised them to you the first time.

you never thought there would be a last time hearing them from her lips. maybe that’s why you can’t remember when she said them last.

you didn’t know to memorise the moment because it had never crossed your mind that the moment would come.

that’s when you stopped CPR, after all it’s no use if sydney doesn’t want to love you anymore.

you fly to munich, to tell the german woman that you are done trying.

it ruins you when the blonde promptly accuses you of not loving her enough. that you are the one abandoning your relationship.

her voice is filled with quiet resentment and that is when your white knuckle, dying grip on the shreds of your once beautiful relationship relents.

for months, you have lived in fear of her walking out on your love affair. your friends have been telling you it wasn’t right to be scared every day of your relationship and now you see the truth in their words.

you’re helpless to save your relationship if she refuses to try on her part.

if sydney isn’t sure if she wants to be there, if she wants to be yours…then there is no way that you can force her to stay.

she swore that she love you but where were the clues? you died on the altar waiting for the proof.

so really, how much sad did she think you had in you?

because here you are, standing in your apartment with packed boxes all around.

you can’t stay in london.

not when every street and every corner reminds you of the walks you used to take with the bayern munich player, hand in hand. of the affection you used to hold for her. or the laughter you used to share.

you’re strong but you’re only so strong. you can only take so much and you aren’t sure if you can take the break up.

by the time you land in america, you’re just mad as hell.

because you loved that place. you loved london and you loved playing for the arsenal. you even loved the dreary weather.

but you had to give all that up because of sydney.

she’s spoilt london for you and you had to leave it and arsenal because of her.

you had to leave europe altogether, god forbid the two of you end up playing against each other in the champions’ league again.

the very competition that started your relationship in the first place is now a bitter memory.

north carolina is where you flee to.

it’s far enough from sydney. and munich. and london. where all your hopes and dreams once lived.

for so long, london. you had a good run.

sydney lohmann was a moment of warm sun but you’re not the one for her.

so long london. stiches undone. two graves, one gun. she’ll find someone.

it just won’t be you.

[grapejuicestyless]

So Long, London

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Years and years of love and affection couldn’t amount to the floods of tears that flooded the once prosperous city you danced through.

From a young age I’ve always wondered what death feels like. Those who have experienced it aren’t here to tell us their stories. Would it hurt, could I feel it clenching my heart in its dark grasp or would I sigh in my sleep and let the darkness take me with no sense of slipping away.

As I walk down the old roads I used to dance on, I understand the concept of it better now that my heals hit the concrete like bullet shells falling to the floor. The vibrant red brick seemed duller nowadays, moss covering the once new white concrete holding all these places I often visited together.

To me, death wasn’t the last breath of air in my lungs escaping, it wasn’t the melodic beeping of the machines beside me in a hospital room, but something that drowned me from the inside out.

His smell is stuck to all my clothes, his smile carved into the back of my phone case from the polaroids of us I kept for keepsakes for years. I can still hear his voice, it’s all around me in the people passing by on the street, the same accent fresh in my mind, his last words knives in my heart.

He swore that he loved me, but where were the clues? I died at the alter waiting for the proof. His green eyes flashing with mischief as he lied to my heart to keep me close, his bluest days tainting my mind, my endless sympathy forcing me to stay even with the gun stuck against the back of my head.

I don’t remember the end, only the feeling of my spine splitting under the weight of his body as I pulled him in closer each time he slipped out of reach. Only the fading of his smile as I gave up trying to make him laugh after so many failed attempts. The heart was dead, I stopped CPR after all, there was no use. Our love was long dead, lying buried with our faltering spirits. He killed me when he killed our relationship, two graves dug with one gun.

He swore that he loved me, and his face looked just like the man who said it to me and meant it, so I believed him as he led me down the street with his hands in his pockets.

For so long, I loved london. My clothes out of place, made for the states and carried across to my home where he laid in the dimming light of our sunroom. For so long, I held him and guided his heart to mine, I let him take parts of me I’ll never be able to rebuild. And I’m angry that I gave him all that youth for free, but I’m just mad as hell because I loved this place.

And he claims I abandoned the ship, he writes it in the songs on his albums and sends the troops to my front door, breaking down the home I just rebuilt but they’ll never know how I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding onto his quiet resentment.

But truly how much sad did he think I had left in me to give? How much tragedy? Just how low did he believe I could before I would self-implode, waiting for his grays and blacks to turn back into the vibrancy I fell so deeply in love with.

And as I walk these streets, his scent fading from my clothes, I can feel the color coming back to my face, and I feel bad for anyone who stops me on the streets and asks me to grab a coffee, because the hole in my heart is black and it’s pulling in anything in it’s path, it’s destructive and dangerous and it acts a lot like him.

He’ll find someone, my stitches will come undone and my heart will die as I lay silently on the empty floor of the apartment I never thought I would see again.

I have to leave, I know it even in this post-death mist. I am a ghost walking down these once euphoric streets we walked hand in hand across. I can’t let myself rot like he did, I won’t let myself get left behind like he intended.

And I’m just mad as hell because I once loved this place.

But for now, it’s so long, london.

[mariabtsos]

Unsinkable ||j.jk|| - Chapter 8

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Description: The 1910s are the peak of passenger ships, it was also the peak of classism, Jungkook is a third class immigrant from Korea, and you are a first class “prisoner” not wanting to go back to a life of strict standards. Once you meet Jungkook, life seems worth living, but when tragedy strikes, will you guys make it out to live the life you planned?

Genre: Titanic AU, poor/artist!JK x rich!f reader, angst, fluff, very slight smut, forbidden love.

Warnings: Mass death, graphic descriptions of: Hypothermia, thalassophobia, bodily injury. Thoughts of death.

Word Count: 1.5k+

You wished Jungkook had been joking on the night you met.

You tried your best to keep your eyes open as you did your best to swim back to the surface, it felt like something was pulling your legs further down, against your better judgment you looked down, barely making out the railing of the stern as it plunged down to what looked like the darkest abyss, you had to keep swimming if you were going to live, but you were scared, scared that something horrifying will come from black waters below you. 

Jungkook wouldn’t let that happen.

You didn’t realize he was pulling you up until you were almost out of the water, noticing how much harder holding your breath was getting to be. As you broke the surface of the water you gasped for air as if you were a newborn baby, you regretted this instantly, the cold air making you feel like a thousand knives were inside your lungs. Breathing was so painful, you were screaming in pain, was it coming from your leg or your head? It didn’t matter, no one could hear you, mainly because of all the screams that surrounded you as well.

Where were Taehyung and Yoongi? 

You looked at Jungkook with concern, remembering the fact that the doe-eyed man you loved had given you his lifebelt, so he was paddling to stay afloat at the moment, and probably to stay warm. As you swam behind you looked around to check if you saw any sign of the two you’d been so worried about. You couldn’t help but wonder if Taehyung was wearing a lifebelt? Yoongi was wearing one, so surely Taehyung was too, right?

“Where’re the others Kook?” Your voice came out shaky, even talking felt painful, were your ribs broken? Talking shouldn’t be this painful.

“I don’t know,” he spoke, shivering. You tried looking around for any sign of them, but it was so dark. So, so dark.

“YOONGI! TAEHYUNG!” You yelled their names, in hope that they would find you, in hopes that they were both okay.

Jungkook swam around and found a few pieces of debris you could float on, they weren’t very sturdy, and it took you both a few tries to figure out how to get on without falling each time. You looked up at the sky briefly, taking in how bright the stars shone. Where’s the moon? you thought to yourself. 

“TAEHYUNG! YOONGI!” You yelled again, your throat hurt from doing so, and it almost felt useless as the screams around you drowned anything you could possibly say. You hoped rescue was on its way, hell, there was a light nearby and the silhouette of what you thought was another ship. Did they see the flares the officers had sent out earlier? Did they hear how the ship so many deemed ‘unsinkable’ broke apart and sunk from right under you? You wondered if Namjoon and Chris’s bodies were sinking down too, and if their bones would even survive the crushing pressure from below?

You remembered your last moments with him before you left to find Jungkook, how he kept insisting that you get on that lifeboat with your mother, how he’d been holding so tightly and how scared you were of both of you surviving and this being your life. Was it bad that deep down, you were glad he’d died and that he had died quick? That you wouldn’t have to worry about living the life pre-destined for you? All of these questions swirled in your mind as you and Jungkook shivered. You wish you could hold each other, but the pieces of debris Jungkook found were not big enough to hold you both up in a way that you could hold each other. So, you had nothing to do but accept the chilling air of the morning.

“Yoongi…Taehyung…” your voice was merely a whisper now. “It’s so quiet Kookie.”

“We’ll…be okay…the boats will be back for us in no time…” his speech was slurred, the words barely separated as shivered uncontrollably.

“I’m so tired,” you shivered too, very slowly paddling toward him, however long had passed he’d moved far away.

“N-no…you can’t…can’t close your eyes, you have…to live,” Jungkook encouraged you, reaching for your hand which you extended to him, it took him a while to get a hold of it as he was barely able to keep his own hand up.

“You know, I was planning on making myself puke before we left London,” he looked at you, his eyes were heavy, you could tell he was sleepy, but he still let out the silliest of giggles, it was weak and soft, but you didn’t know how much you’d needed it until just now.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his speech was slurred and his skin looked even paler now. “Chris and I were lucky we won that poker game,” the doe-eyed man admitted, “I…think…it’s the best…thing I’ve e…ver won…dar…ling” he giggled again, and it almost didn’t sound like the current Jungkook, who you thought may have suffering the worst part of hypothermia.

“Do you think we’ll make it Kookie?”

Jungkook could barely keep his eyes open anymore, “We’re so close…Korea…can we swim to Korea?” He could barely enunciate his words. You looked at where his shaking finger — although it looked like was slowly stopping — was pointing and all you saw was open water and the silhouettes of other passengers in the water, you looked at him and noticed the debris he was floating on, his chest and arms were barely holding on, his body was submerged from the waist down

Before you could answer you heard a loud whistle along with yelling. “IS ANYONE OUT THERE ALIVE?”

It was them, they’d come to help, they’d come back to save you and Jungkook, maybe whoever was up there was looking after you after all? Hearing the manly voice so close made you come to a decision: you weren't going to die. You weren't going to die, is what you kept repeating to yourself, mustering all the courage and strength you could, you lifted yourself a little extra from your debris and saw the corpse of an officer, his body limp and a whistle frozen to his lips. You weren’t going to die. You got off your debris and swam toward the man, trying your best to not hurt him in case he wasn’t dead, you pulled it softly out of his lip and started blowing the whistle right away, with pleas scattered in between.

“HELP US” you screamed, and you kept on repeating the same phrase every time you stopped whistling to catch air, until eventually you saw a bright light pointed your way.

You didn't remember much after that, just helping drag Jungkook up to the lifeboat and then passing out. When the officer in charge of the lifeboat woke you, you were in front of another big ship and you saw as people climbed on the ladders on the side of the ship, as well as people being dragged up who looked pretty banged up, but to be fair so were you.

You dozed off a few times on the way to the medical area they'd set up, you had a dislocated knee, and had in fact broken a few ribs, you were being treated for frostbite like many others around you. 

Where’s Jungkook? That was the first thing that came to your mind as you finally were warm enough to stay awake.

“Jungkook? JUNGKOOK?”

“Madam, if you mean the boy that was found with you he’s in another room, he’ll be taken directly to the hospital once we get to New York,” the nurse who was walking by your bed came by, checking on your bandages. “I have to go with him, please!” You pleaded.

“Are you anything to him?” Shit, you technically weren’t, but technically, all your most important documents were gone with the ship, and unless your mother found you — which you doubted given they’d put you with the 3rd class passengers and she’d rather be caught dead than mingling with ‘vermin’ as she’d called them.

“Yes, I am his wife, please,” you lied. The nurse nodded, letting you know she’d do her best to ensure you'd be with him once Carpathia docked.

In the meantime, Taehyung and Jimin found you, and you cried seeing Jimin was still holding the little baby he’d found, you wondered if his parents survived, if they were here on Carpathia. As selfish as it sounded, you hoped Jimin would get to keep the small child. You told them all about you and Jungkook’s survival, they listened attentively and did their best to comfort you. “Yoongi hyung is in another room,” Jimin explained, once you finished your story “he got stuck on the railing and his leg broke in his effort to get himself out, the frostbite didn’t help much.”

“And even then, when we found debris to float on he refused to get on and insisted I did,” Taehyung said softly, you held out one of your hands to him in an effort to comfort him, “when the ship docks I’m going to the hospital with Jungkook, if I find out what the name of it is and if Yoongi is going there too, I’ll let you both know so we can all get off the boat together, we’re sticking together,” the two boys looked at each other and then at you and nodded.

[1d1195]

Traditional IX

You can read Traditional here.

This part is 7.5K words of almost entirely fluff. It's kind of a mess but I think it's a good mess. I thought of a few more things that I could do in the future so might squeeze an extra part or two out of it. Might involve some angst though :) :) :) Hope you enjoy!

Carefully, he leaned over the side of the basin, and tangled his fingers through her hair and started massaging the pads of his fingertips against her scalp. She sighed. “You gotta be careful or I’ll never leave this tub.”

If it meant he could always wake up and find her here, he’d massage her hair forever and draw a bath for her every day of their lives.

The phone only rang once before it was answered. She felt bad that he was probably hovering by the phone for the last two hours waiting for someone to call him back. “Is she okay?!”

She thought about the last time she saw her phone. It was either in the driver’s car or back in Niall’s office. But now that Harry had forgiven her, a little sliver of pain relieved after the horrible day, all the tears, sobs, plus lack of sleep caught up to her very tired mind. Her head was aching. She wanted to just lay in absolute silence and wish for sleep to come so she could just shut down for a while. But she had to make this phone call first.

Harry was in the kitchen, once more taking care of her. Gathering water and medicine for her tired body. “I’m fine,” she answered the panicked voice at the other end as gently as possible. Her heart rate was settling, and she thought she might fall asleep right there on the comfiest couch she had ever had the pleasure of sitting on. But she needed to make sure Louis knew she was alright. Since her phone was MIA, she used Harry’s.

First came the loudest relieved sigh she had ever heard. “Fucking hell, babe, what the fuck,” Louis sounded distraught. She remembered the last time Louis ever sounded so upset. Back when she was eighteen and asked if he could help her move out after he had gone away to university. After one of the hardest tragedies of their young lives she wanted Louis and Eleanor to just live two years post-grad in ignorant bliss of anything that was happening to her. They checked in so regularly, but she kept her life at home so hidden.

When Louis found out, saw, and heard…

It was the only other time because she vowed to herself that she would never be the reason for the anxiety laced in his otherwise happy-go-lucky attitude. But here they were anyway; both of them upset beyond words. “You scared me half to death!” He did sound scared. He sounded close to tears. Just like he never sounded distraught, it was even more rare of an occasion that Louis shed tears.

“I’m sor—”

“No, absolutely not,” he interrupted. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she could hear him shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him. “I’m not mad. I’ve just been worried sick. I thought you were at Harry’s this whole time...what took you so long to answer—”

“It’s a long story,” she mumbled. “I don’t want to ruin your weekend more than I already have.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Eleanor’s voice appeared at the other end of the line. It must have been on speakerphone.  “We were worried,” she said gently. “Tell us what happened, love,” She prompted.

So, she rehashed the story. The third time in half a dozen hours. Harry handed her water and medicine part way through. Sitting beside her, he watched as she spoke each individual word. Her voice was devoid of emotion through most of it. Louis and Eleanor must have asked questions, but she answered them all. Spared no details. But he caught the flicker of blush on her cheeks as she explained that awful story about the horrible woman that spouted lies about knowing Harry’s likes and dislikes.

“I’m at Harry’s now,” she shrugged. Harry worried about her well-being. That was a lot to happen in one day. A lot of emotions wreaking havoc on her body. Maybe it was shock again because she seemed so at ease chatting with her friends on the phone. Like they were catching up after a holiday. “I’m very tired,” she admitted. There was a pause before she smiled weakly then nodded. Harry couldn’t hear but he thought they were telling her to sleep. “I love you both so much,” she whispered. “Can I pay for you to get an extra day to make up for—” She pulled the phone from her ear quickly before her thought was finished. Harry couldn’t make out the words, but he definitely heard yelling from the couple. She giggled tiredly, her eyes drooping by the second.

“Oh, I’ll take that now,” Harry murmured putting the phone to his ear now that she was trying to take care of her friends all while draining the last bit of her energy of the day. Within seconds, as if she wasn’t in control of her own body, she leaned toward Harry, placing her head on his thigh and sighed contentedly and let her eyelids finally close. “Hello?” He said to the phone gently.

There was a moment of hesitation. A deep shaky breath. “Harry, if you break that poor girl’s heart, so help me God, I will murder you without a second thought,” Louis promised.

“Lou,” Eleanor said tentatively. El knew the poor girl would be embarrassed by Louis if she was awake to hear it.

Harry smirked and placed his hand on her head gently combing her hair around her ear and watched the evenness of her breath move her body while she laid quietly on his lap. Harry was so relieved she was okay. He was even happier she was right there for him to watch her and make sure she was okay. “Louis, I’d hand you the knife,” he promised.

*

He let her lay there for a long while—almost an hour. He scrolled through his phone shortly after she fell asleep, after he assured Louis and Eleanor that he would take care of her. He even suggested they do take the extra day for their anniversary weekend. “I think it would make her feel better if y’did,” he explained. “I know m’still new in her life, but I think we all know she’d feel unnecessarily guilty for worrying y’on your holiday,” Harry reminded them. After a hearty agreement, Harry also knew they were two of the people who loved her most in the world, they’d do anything to make her feel better too.

After that, he made his call to Niall.

“Is she alright?” He asked without any greeting. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be no greeting when they chatted anyway. Harry felt no jealousy at all. Especially after his conversation with Gemma. He felt good old-fashioned love for Niall who clearly cared deeply about the sweet girl laying across his couch and lap. “I tried calling her, but her phone was in the office. I have it with me because I thought if she was going—”

“Oh good, she was worried ‘bout that,” Harry mumbled. He didn’t want to move an inch because he just wanted this poor girl to rest.

“I’ll bring it by...is she okay?” He asked again.

“‘Bout as good as y’can expect.”

“She’s there?” Niall wondered.

“Where else would I let her go?” Harry smirked sadly. Niall informed him he really wasn’t sure. It was time for the story he heard twice now from Niall’s point of view. He only told Harry about her leaving and coming back in the simplest of details. How she asked him not to tell Harry about the harassment and so forth. Pair that with knowing her phone didn’t make it with her to the car, he wasn’t certain she was going to make it to Harry’s.

It was pitch-black dark outside. Since she fell asleep so suddenly, he didn’t have time to turn the lights on or anything. Only the kitchen light half illuminated the living area. He tilted his head against the back of the sofa, taking the new version of her story once more from Niall’s perspective. “Niall, m’sorry for being such a prick,” he said.

“It’s already forgotten,” Niall said kindly. “We all do crazy things for the people we love. Just make sure she knows she didn’t ruin our friendship,” Niall had a smirk in his voice and Harry felt a flutter in his heart at that not-so-little L-word. “Also, I would like to be part of the exit interview when you fire that horrific woman, if you want to truly make amends.”

Harry chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged,” he murmured. “Can y’pick up some food for us on the way? I imagine she hasn’t eaten today. I’ll wake her up and make sure she eats before bed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Course. Just let me know.”

It was another half hour before Niall said he had food in his car and would be ten minutes. In that time, he texted his lawyer asking what he could do about her situation to make it painless as possible. Then he sent another text to the driver requesting to follow her.

Once he received Niall’s message that he was enroute with food, he started to wake her up. “Hey there,” he hummed gently rubbing the length of her arm. “Kitten, wake up, please,” he whispered and gave her the gentlest little shake he could muster. “Niall’s bringing us some food, love,” he told her. At the same moment her stomach growled very loudly. He smirked feeling grateful he was waking her up to eat.

“I guess m’hungry,” she mumbled and slowly sat up. “Oof. My head,” she winced pressing one hand to each of her temples. A wave of dizziness and pain rolled over her exhausted mind like she was hungover.

Harry immediately brought his hands over top of hers and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. It made her fuzzy mind warm over with adoration for Harry. While he pressed a simple kiss to her head, all he could think was he was going to have a hard time letting her go to the bathroom of all things. All he wanted was to keep touching her and consoling her. “M’so sorry, baby,” he whispered.

“Harry?” She asked tentatively.

He frowned. He sensed he wasn’t going to like her follow up question. “Yes, kitten?”

“If you’re not too busy, could I stay the weekend? I really don’t want to be alone,” she said rubbing one eye.

He didn’t like that she felt like she had to ask. Part of him thought it was understood she would be there all weekend. But he was glad she wanted to ask and did ask. If all this had happened a few weeks prior she might not have been asking. “Mi casa es su casa,” he answered simply. She smirked. “Of course, love.”

“I just need a moment,” she said standing and made her way for the bathroom. Harry nodded watching her like she might fall to pieces just by standing. His leg was numb from sitting in the same position for almost an hour along with her head resting on his thigh. There wasn’t an ounce of complaining about it in his body, but he got up and stretched it a bit—he called his lawyer back while he wiggled his leg and paced the floor a bit. He turned on some more lights so everyone could see. Especially the outside one for Niall’s arrival. He did show up shortly after that. “I’ll call you back,” he said to his phone as he held the door open for Niall to bring the food inside.

He smiled at her as she reentered the kitchen while he and Harry got the takeout boxes settled. “Hey darling, you look like you’re feeling much better,” he chuckled and gave her a side hug with a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry was thrilled he wasn’t the least bit jealous of their physical interaction. It really made it seem like he was jealous of her not talking to him. Even just thinking about that bristled him a bit. He was irritated that she didn’t feel comfortable talking to him the way she did with Niall.

How were they supposed to get married if she wouldn’t tell him her every thought? It was an irrational worry, but he couldn’t help thinking about it.

Harry smirked despite the nagging little thought, as he set her food out. “I think that’s damning by faint praise. I don’t think I could look worse than earlier,” she snorted. Harry rolled his eyes and Niall laughed a bit more.

“So hard on yourself, darling,” he shook his head. Harry let them chat while they all ate quietly. Harry wanted to put her to bed and massage her head so she could relax. But he liked that Niall was good at keeping her chatting, distracting her. Harry was too nervous and busy cooing about her to hold a real conversation right now. Plus, he didn’t want to make her cry any more than she probably would on her own—if only because her head was still hurting her. He could see it on the little pinch of skin between her eyebrows and he wished she would just go to sleep so she could feel better.

“Do you need some time off…the whole week to get things figured out?” Niall asked. His voice was quiet and gentle—like he didn’t want to ask her. Harry was glad he asked it because it was an important question, and he was worried he would accidentally force her to take the week off if he tried asking.

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “That’s the last thing I want,” she emphasized the word last as she put the forkful of food to her mouth. Niall and Harry glanced at each other for just one moment. Harry shrugged one shoulder hoping she didn’t notice. “I’m sad, not blind.” He smirked despite himself. Niall tried to cover his laugh with a throat clearing. “Mom probably doesn’t want me there,” she said casually. Like it wasn’t the death of a parent. Like it was a birthday dinner. Or a doctor’s appointment. Her tone and words broke Harry’s heart. How could someone not love her? He truly couldn’t imagine. He wanted to ask why her mother wouldn’t forgive her, but it wasn’t his place to ask. Plus, (even though he might disagree with her mother’s choice and ignoring her very much perfect daughter) who was he to judge how she chose to grieve for another child? He wished with everything in him that they cared for her the way they were supposed to...before it was too late. She was so special, and it was unfair she didn’t have the support she deserved. “I don’t know. Maybe Louis will know what to do when he gets back...so I’ll at least work through Tuesday.”

“Well, whatever you need,” Niall shrugged. “I don’t want to hold you from sleep. You could use a ton of it. Thanks for the food, Harry,” he smiled. The poor thing was getting droopy eyed again. Niall kissed the top of her head and gave a wave as he headed out. “Call if you need me!”

*

She claimed it was much too early to go to bed. It wasn’t, but Harry would have agreed the sky was red if it came from her lips. He wasn’t arguing with her at all this weekend. Whatever her heart wanted, it was all hers. Her sleepiness wore quick, and she fell asleep almost immediately as The Good Place played while he rubbed her feet in his lap. Or at least, he thought she was asleep. “Harry,” she mumbled.

“Yes, kitten?” He asked curiously looking at her half sleeping figure.

“Would you ever do all this for…a regular companion?”

He shook his head. He would do anything for her, answer any question, but he wished she wasn’t worried about this right now. “No, but you’re very different than all the other ones.”

“You don’t have to pay me as much…since I don’t…” she trailed off.

“Kitten, I’d simply pay you more if y’did,” he had a sad smile on his lips as he spoke. That’s not why he wanted her. He meant it from the moment he responded to her over six months ago.

“Hardly seems fair,” she muttered. “I think you need to reevaluate our agreement. I know I’m not CEO, but I know a thing or two about supply and demand and cost efficiency.”

He chuckled. “Love, why are y’worrying about this right now?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. Her eyes were still closed. “I worry a lot about other people,” she told him.

He couldn’t argue with that. “I noticed.”

They were quiet for a long while. Harry pressed his thumbs into the soles of her feet noting every little sigh that escaped her lips. Eventually he noticed her light snores. He carefully moved her feet to the side and slid off the couch. With a blanket he had tossed over the back, he covered her lightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t want to leave her there, but he wanted to take the next step in making sure she had everything she needed to recover from such a horrible couple of days.

*

She doesn’t know when she woke up, but Harry was backlit by the TV, knelt beside her. His hands were gentle as he rubbed her arm. “Hey, love. I ran you a bath.”

The last time she took a bath was surely in childhood. But Harry looked so proud that he did the right thing. She felt woozy again as she stood. Her brain aching but she wasn’t due for medicine for a while. A bath and some sleep might do some good. Harry led her to the bathroom and started to pull her clothes off: the cozy sweater, the silky blouse, and the dark dress pants that tied around her waist.

She wanted to protest out of awkwardness and shyness. She couldn’t believe Harry was undressing her again without the pretense of more, but Harry was acting like this was normal. Almost as if he was pretending, he didn’t notice what he was doing fully. His mind wasn’t on the fact she was naked before him, he was just taking care of her. She didn’t even blush as he did so.

He had a little towel folded where her head rested, and she sank into the warm water. Of course, Harry made sure the house was a comfortable room temperature given the winter air outside, but until she was slipping into the water, she was reminded it was the dead of winter and the water was so warm against the cold air. “Hmm,” she sighed. Harry rolled his sleeves up—she noticed he changed into a pair of joggers and a long sleeve T-shirt. Carefully, he leaned over the side of the basin, and tangled his fingers through her hair and started massaging the pads of his fingertips against her scalp. She sighed. “You gotta be careful or I’ll never leave this tub.”

If it meant he could always wake up and find her here, he’d massage her hair forever and draw a bath for her every day of their lives.

*

After the water started to cool and she was nearly back to sleep once more, Harry gently coaxed her to stand. Harry had the fluffiest towels. Like a hotel. She loved his washer and dryer. Everything about him and his house was a warm hug. She was going to hate leaving it in the spring. He wrapped her in one of the fluffy towels and helped her step out of the tub. “M’sleepy,” she mumbled.

“I know, beautiful,” he hummed. “Just wanna get y’dressed.”

“I don’t have clothes.”

Harry bit his lip and in her sleepy, grief-stricken mind she swore his cheeks had turned pink. “I…I may have had Gemma order some things for y’back when y’were all burned so y’always had stuff here,” he gestured to the folded pile on the sink counter.

If she wasn’t so tired, she probably would have asked a hundred questions. Did he snoop through her clothes looking for sizes when she wasn’t looking? Why did he get expensive brands like Lulu Lemon?  That seemed so excessive even for him. She didn’t even own it. How much did he get? And of course, had he ever done this before for someone else?

But the gesture was so sweet she was rendered speechless. Without any kind of fanfare, he handed her the pair of underwear still packaged in plastic while he pulled the tag off the shirt while he waited for her to slide them on. He did the same with the sweatpants. This was by far one of the kindest things any man had ever done for her.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom and headed to “her” bedroom. He tugged the covers back and left the room. She frowned sliding between the sheets thinking he was leaving her just like that. Harry returned quickly with an assortment of items in his arms. Her phone, a glass of water, pills, and a book tucked under his arm. “I…I don’t read much. But I do like this one. Thought y’might like it,” he sounded so shy. “And I know y’like t’have a book nearby.”

After having his sister order clothes for her, this had to be the second sweetest thing a man had ever done for her.

For the last half hour, the bath, the head massage, the book, and the clothes…she almost forgot the last day and a half was so terrible. Harry was pure medicine for her tired body and mind. She wished she was there for a normal circumstance.

“Do you have everything you need?” He asked. “Can I get you anything else?”

You. She shook her head. “I feel like a princess,” she mumbled. He smiled and brushed his thumb on her cheek.

“Think y’are one, love,” he pressed a long kiss to the middle of her forehead. “Shout if y’need something. Sleep well, beautiful,” he whispered.

As he turned to leave, at the last second, she grabbed his hand and pulled lightly. He stumbled a bit as he turned back to her. She clutched her hand around his instinctively. Held tight. It took her a minute to realize she had even reached for him.

He couldn’t believe her beautiful doe-eyed expression. Surely, she was the most gorgeous thing to ever exist. Harry swore his heart softened into mush as he looked her over for signs of tears or sadness. He knew he looked on with confusion, but he loved how her hand felt wrapped around his.

She didn’t say anything, and after a second, she just lifted the covers up in invitation.

Harry didn’t hesitate to slip in beside and wrap his body around hers. He flipped over to the other side of her. She pressed her face against his chest. He held her so close. For the last thirty odd hours she felt so broken emotionally, mentally, and physically.

With Harry wrapped around her, she finally felt whole.

*

Harry woke up still snuggled up to her. He carefully reached over her sleeping figure for a sip of her water and did his best not to disturb her. But she was pressing her fingertips over his chest like she was playing an imaginary piano. “Are y’awake, love?” He whispered. She nodded. It was so dark and so quiet in the room. “Are y’okay?” He asked.

She nodded again. “You worry too much about me,” her voice was soft and quiet. The only kind of voice that could be used at one thirty in the morning.

He had one arm wrapped beneath her neck and pillow, crooked around her so his arm wouldn’t go numb, but he could still hold her tight. The other draped over her waist. He nodded in response to her statement. “You gave me quite the scare over the last day.”

“I’ve been dealt worse hands,” she responded dryly.

“You certainly use humor as a main coping mechanism.”

“It drove my therapist nuts,” she had a touch of laughter in her breathy whisper. Harry never gave much thought to her family because she didn’t. As far as he could tell, Louis and Eleanor were her family. But it made sense she went to therapy for all she had gone through at sixteen. He wondered if she ever still went but didn’t want to ask something so personal. “Whatcha thinking about Mr. Styles? Me in a straitjacket?”

He snorted quietly. “Hardly…how long did y’go t’therapy for?

“Two years, every two weeks. Then once every other month all through university. I don’t go anymore,” he was a little grateful she volunteered the information without him having to ask. He would worry endlessly if she wasn’t feeling up to par and felt like she had to hide something that was helping her well-being.

“No?”

“I mean. I’ll probably make an appointment now but no. I haven’t had an appointment in a while.”

“Why’s that?” He had to know.

She didn’t respond to that question, however. She thought telling him that she met a guy who actually worried about her in such a casual way would send Harry into cardiac arrest. “Do you like the night?” She asked instead.

Harry didn’t mind that she didn’t answer. It wasn’t that important. “Hmm?”

“I’m a morning person. But I think when you can’t see the other person, night is better. Much more revealing.”

“Tell me something then,” Harry lazily drew shapes along her arm that looped back over his torso.

“I just told you about therapy. Your turn.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I’ll tell y’anything y’want t’know.”

She waited a minute. “Do you really like pineapple on pizza?” She whispered.

He laughed almost loudly. Especially for nearly two in the morning. “Yes, kitten.”

She sighed. “I really had a chance of falling for you and everything.”

“Is that so?”

She didn’t want to repeat that mainly because it was a lie. She had already fallen so hard. So, she moved onto her next question. “What did you do on movie night?” She asked.

“I went to the gym and took m’frustration out on a punching bag.”

She ignored the idea of angry Harry. Especially because of her. “Do you go to the gym a lot?” She wondered.

“Usually at the company one during the day.”

They chatted for about half an hour. Talking about random things. Harry laughed a lot at her jokes, and she enjoyed the feel of his fingers continuously running along the inside of her arm and sliding up to comb through her hair. “Kitten,” he mumbled as she got sleepier. Her answers and questions less vibrant in tone as she started drifting back to sleep.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember when I was sick?” He asked. She nodded against his arm. “You called me baby a lot when I was getting less foggy,” he said. “I didn’t know why.”

Harry could feel the smile moving her cheeks with her face pressed to her arms. “You asked me to. Said it made you feel better.”

He smirked, felt his cheeks warm knowing he asked her for such a silly but somewhat intimate thing. “Oh,” he chuckled. “Sorry.”

She was quiet for a moment. Harry almost thought she fell asleep. “I didn’t mind.”

His heart felt so warm. “You can call me ‘baby’ anytime,” he told her.

She yawned and nuzzled her nose against his T-shirt in response. Again, he thought she’d fallen asleep when she answered him once more. “Night, baby.”

“Good night, love.”

*

Harry once more stilled her hand as she reached for the car door once they were parked. He got out quickly and hurried to her side of the car to open the door. “I didn’t know you knew how to drive,” she giggled.

“Hardy-har,” he rolled his eyes holding his hand out for her as she exited the car. They were outside an electronics store. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he went shopping in person and out from behind his computer screen. It seemed like fun to get out of the house. Especially since she only had one request when she woke up that morning in the circle of Harry’s arms. “I don’t want to think about it today. Is that alright?”

“Harry,” she said alertly, alarm in her voice and pulled on his hand with a quick tug right before he walked into traffic as a car passed by. He smirked and looked back at her. Apparently, it had been long enough that he wasn’t as mindful about parking lots as he should have been.

“Thanks kitten. Keep hold of this for me? Don’t want to get hurt,” He said squeezing his hand in hers. His smile was flirty and adorable. She loved weekend Harry. The last time she spent the whole weekend with him was when she wasn’t up to par. Maybe emotionally she still wasn’t up to snuff, but this was better than him having to worry about her burns by far.

How was Harry going to deny any request for the girl he was so enthralled with?

She kept hold of his hand and she thought from the outside they must look like a regular old couple. No one would question it. He guided her through the doors and to the back where the laptops were displayed. She perused them for a while. “M’so sorry love. I’m getting a phone call,” he gave her hand a squeeze and made way for the exit in case he needed better reception outside. “Styles,” he spoke clearly. She smirked and continued her search.

She looked at the different brands. Sure, Harry had a ton of money but of course she wasn’t going to pick the most expensive one just for the sake of it. She didn’t do much on her laptop except type her reflections these days, shop online every so often, and watch Netflix. “Can I help you?” The person working in the computer section asked. “That’s a fairly good one you’re looking at,” he told her.

She touched the keyboard. “My current one died,” she explained. “But I liked it. So, I figured maybe I’d just get a new one of the same kind.”

“Can I persuade you to a different brand? It would be much better,” he said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want you to have a poor laptop.”

She knew where this was going based on the way his eyes sparkled. It didn’t seem to matter if she thought so poorly of herself. She was a girl in the electronics section and if it wasn’t the employee, it would have been a random man showing off his knowledge trying to convince her that he could take care of her needs. She sighed. “I’m not sure...I like this one.”

He was about to launch into a story about why it was better. She was prepared to listen politely but ultimately, she would probably pick this one. However, he kept encroaching on her personal space, and it was making her a bit weary as he explained the better quality of RAM and storage on the other brand he wanted to suggest. She was nearly bored to sleep when he brushed his hand on her arm. With little notice of just how close he was, she jerked back awkwardly and bumped into something solid behind her. Whatever it was, it only gave just enough to cradle her before she fell completely backward. “Hi beautiful,” Harry muttered holding her up. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head as he kept her steady. Then he looped his fingers back through hers. “Find one you liked?” He asked but he was staring at the employee who looked shocked.

“Umm… yeah. This one,” she pointed confused by how calm Harry was being. He nearly broke his friendship with Niall when he saw him touching her. How was he so rational over a stranger? Her heart fluttered violently. Harry glanced at the specifications printed on the little display model and then turned to the worker.

“Can we have the top version of this one,” he asked.

“Harry,” she whispered. “I don’t—”

“Right away,” the poor guy said hurrying behind the doors nearby to get the best model.

“Stupid idiot,” Harry grunted under his breath. How could he not know she was here with someone? How could he think she would fall for someone that was trying to dissuade her opinion of which laptop she wanted? Harry needed to be more careful when he left her alone.

Oh. He was very mad. She felt her face warm. “Harry?” She asked tentatively. He squeezed her hand.

“Yes, love?” He murmured.

“I don’t need to get the fanciest one,” she whispered. He squeezed her hand again, reassuringly.

“Mmm…”

“Harry, I swear I didn’t flirt or anything,” she promised.

He scoffed. “Kitten,” he shook his head. “You’re not seriously apologizing for someone else’s behavior?” She bit her lip. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and placed another kiss on the top of her head. “Shh,” he hushed as the worker returned. “Thanks,” Harry said grabbing the box from his hands and turning the two of them away from the display. He brought her along the back wall to look at laptop cases. “Want one?”

“Umm…I don’t know. I don’t think I really need one...I already have one that would probably fit this—"

“I like this one with the sunflowers on it. It looks like something you’d like,” he said pointing to one of the cases on the wall.

She blinked. “I remind you of sunflowers?”

“You wore this dress with sunflowers on it back in September when you first started,” he shrugged. “Thought you looked adorable.”

Her cheeks warmed at his assessment, and she grabbed at the case immediately. “Yes, I want it.”

He smiled. “Do you want anything else?”

She shook her head. “No this is plenty.”

He steered her toward the checkout line. The guy at the counter rang her stuff quickly, Harry accepted the five-year warranty that she normally skimped out on because it seemed useless. Harry slid his black AmEx card through not even registering the total at all. She did though, and she couldn’t imagine spending that much on something for herself in one go.

Harry opened her car door for her as she got inside. She was buckling herself when Harry got in on his side and in one motion, maneuvered so the back of her head pressed firmly against the headrest and his lips attached to hers. He devoured her breath. Making her already cloudy head spin. Pulling back, he pecked at her lips a few more times. She felt totally breathless. All Harry did was smirk at her and then reached up to brush his thumb over her cheek. Then starting his car up, he drove off without a word.

She would never intentionally make Harry jealous. But she liked it when the rewards of his jealousy resulted in kisses for her.

*

They were almost finished with The Good Place. A few more episodes were left when she felt a bit hungry. “Can we have breakfast for dinner?”

“What am I gonna make y’in the morning, then?” He smirked at her giving her arm a squeeze. They were snuggled up on the couch, again like an ordinary couple.

She frowned so cutely. Her little pout made his heart melt. He would have made her breakfast any time of day she wanted, multiple times a day, and he would eat it happily. “Well, I’m going to be sad tomorrow, and I don’t want to ruin breakfast by being sad,” she explained.

It was his turn to frown. “You’re gonna be sad tomorrow?” He asked.

“I think I have to deal with it, no?” She muttered.

Harry sighed. He hadn’t gotten an update from the lawyer since he stepped out of the electronics store earlier in the day. He was hoping for better news before he gave her information. Before she had to be sad. He didn’t ask them to go in guns ablaze. He just wanted to make sure her mum had everything she needed and that all would be taken care of so that she wouldn’t shorten the poor girl that had already lost so much. After the terrible day she had, he just wanted to give her the quiet and perfect weekend she deserved. Filled with kisses, good food, snuggles, and TV... and maybe a book if she wanted.

“Maybe y’should wait until Louis and Eleanor get back?” He suggested casually. “Gives y’more time t’recover...and if y’need t’take a day or two, love—”

“Okay,” she interrupted quickly but it was still sweet as syrup the way she said it. “I’ll think about it. Maybe Tuesday or something would be better.”

He sighed with relief quietly. Grateful he’d have the weekend to spoil her and figure out more details on the law end of things. Maybe he could even run it by Louis to get a bit more of the picture.

But for now, he would make her an omelet, pancakes, French toast, or even crepes if she wanted.

*

After their breakfast for dinner, Harry had her lying against his chest while the last of the episodes played. She was a quiet thing when she slept. He didn’t notice she had fallen asleep until the show was over, the screen dark, and he heard the quiet, rhythmic breaths coming from her. He kissed her forehead and shifted awkwardly until she was cradled against him, and he carried her down the hall to his bedroom. If she was okay with sleeping together last night, he hoped she wouldn’t mind tonight.

Plus, his bed was larger. He placed her in the middle and managed to shimmy the covers beneath her body. He slid in beside her and kissed her forehead once more. She cuddled against him silently, without waking. He sighed, completely content with the scent of her shampoo filling his brain. It was like a potion clouding his mind with overwhelming emotions of adoring her.

“Baby?” She hummed after several moments. Harry was almost asleep himself when she spoke.

God, he loved that word coming from her mouth directed at him. “Hmm? Need something, love?” He whispered.

“Did you carry me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, kitten.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“No promises.”

She pinched his shoulder without any pain. “Cheeky.” More silence. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Course, angel. Wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

“I meant your bed.”

“I did too.”

*

At one in the morning, they shared more secrets. Harry told her about some of his university days. Told her about a couple of his girlfriends and why they didn’t work out. He even chatted about some of his companions. She talked about the ex that cheated on her. How he never really understood her grief. “Sounds like he did y’a favor, love,” he said distastefully. He played with a strand of her hair running it against the side of her cheek. Harry adored her so heavily it shocked him that she didn’t have droves of men asking her to marry them.

“Well now I think he did...because I have a taste of the life I always wanted. A cute little office, almost finished with my second degree, and a cute guy that makes me breakfast and owns a porch swing,” she said dreamily. “What else does life have to offer?”

He chuckled. “A porch swing?”

“I would sleep out there if it was acceptable.” He kept that in mind. He wanted her to live here so badly. He would do anything to have her wake up in his arms always. He would chat with her at one in the morning every day as long as he lived. This was the most whole and perfect he felt in a long while.

“When’s your graduation ceremony?” The reminder she was almost done with her degree prompted him to start planning the rest of their lives. Also, he wanted to get her a really good gift.

“I’m not going,” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” his tone was admonishing. “You have to.”

She shook her head. “I went to my brother’s and Louis’ right before it happened...I wouldn’t want to upset Louis again thinking about it. Course Mom would never come,” she almost had an eyeroll in her voice. “I don’t see much point. It’s usually a family event...and I don’t really have one of those.”

He frowned. Of course, she was worried about everyone else. “Love, y’should be celebrated. S’a big deal.”

She shrugged. “I’d go by myself. I wouldn’t get any pictures...I just...I don’t know. I told El and Lou they don’t have a ceremony for my program...” He bit the inside of his lip. He would have to figure it out. Her best friends would love to go. He, of course, would be there with confetti for her. And he was certain Niall would love to go, too.

“Can y’think about it some more?” He asked quietly.

She nodded. “Sure.”

“No, really,” he rolled his eyes at her quick response.

Sighing, she took another deep breath and nodded firmly. “I will, baby.”

“Don’t distract me by calling me baby,” he said kissing her forehead.

“Did it work?” She giggled.

“Yes.”

*

Harry woke up smushed against his pillow. She was sitting up and reading the book he selected for her. Her hand was massaging against his scalp while tangling her fingers in his hair. He would love to live like this forever. It felt like magic. “D’you like it?” He mumbled and wrapped his arm over her lap.

She nodded. “It’s very good.”

He smiled and enjoyed the feel of her fingers in his hair for a little while longer. “D’you want more breakfast?” He asked. She put the book aside and wiggled until she was face to face with him. She slid her fingers over his face and admired how perfect he looked. Just a bit of sleep was still in his eyes as he tried to wake up. An adorable smile filling his face and the greenest eyes she ever had the pleasure of looking at. He looked a bit scruffy because he hadn’t shaved in a while. He didn’t usually need to shave all that often, but she noticed he hadn’t done so in over a week and a half. “What?” He asked with the most adorable smirk on his face.

He was way too good for her. Paying her for any reason, taking care of her, all of it was way too much. Especially after her terrible days. This wasn’t why he paid her. All she could think about now was sunflowers when she looked at him. The book he recommended on the side table. How he carried her to bed. In a couple months this would all be over. She would have a new job, a new apartment, and Harry wouldn’t make her breakfast anymore.

The thought saddened her so much. Once more she wished she had met him online. Or didn’t intern at Styles Incorporated. Maybe if they weren’t so tied together, they could have something more. Harry never pressured her in the rapidly approaching seven months they’d known one another.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his as she had many times before. He looped his arm around her, pulled her closer while he ran his tongue along her lip while reaching for the side of her face with his other hand. She sighed contentedly as he held her and kissed her for so long.

“Kitten,” he said pulling away from her mouth abruptly as her hands drifted down his torso and fiddled with the elastic of his pants.

Blushing, she glanced at him awkwardly. “Please?” She whispered.

“Oh hell, love,” he moaned. “Don’t need t’do that,” his voice was so deep as he mumbled the words. Her soft pleaded request, the doe-eyes...almost had him finishing before they even started. “Are y’sure?” He asked. She nodded silently. Harry kissed her again and again and again and again...

*

She was so quiet afterward. Hell, she was quiet during it. Harry was terrified that she didn’t like it...or worse regretted it. She rested her head against his chest, eyes closed. “We missed breakfast,” she whispered so casually Harry was grateful she finally spoke.

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Can still have it,” he told her.

She shook her head. “Want pasta...and garlic bread.”

“Whatever you want,” he promised.

“Whatever I want?” She hummed. You. You. You. She thought.

“M-hmm...” Forever. Whatever you want, forever. He wanted to say.

“Don’t think you’re ready for that just yet,” she whispered drawing a tantalizing little circle just below where his belt would sit.

“Insatiable,” he mumbled and rolled over, so he was hovering above her. He smiled down at her and then pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her lips. “Give me a minute,” he said and bent down to kiss the length of her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbone, the length of her sternum...down further until there was nowhere else to go.

She giggled and Harry wished with everything in him that Monday would never arrive because this was the most perfect Sunday in existence. Just her right there in his bed. A book by her side. The most beautiful smile he could dream of on the most perfect girl he could imagine.

--

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[mikavlcs]

Ricochet

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x fem!telekinetic!reader, platonic!Bianca Barclay x reader

Summary: An outburst ruins Wednesday’s relationship with you. The journey to reconciliation is long and hard, but she eventually finds her way there

Warnings: same as last time, ooc!wednesday

Word count: 6.2k

Notes: here is the semi-highly requested wednesday pov of my first story! i recommend reading the first part because i skim over some events to avoid repetition. hopefully you guys enjoy<3

Masterlist | Reader’s Pov

Wednesday was furious. No, she was well beyond fury at this point.

There wasn’t a word in any man-made language that could describe how fucking angry she was.

She had been throwing herself into her investigation for months now to try and find her stalker. He disappeared after the initial text at the end of her first semester, reappeared at the beginning of the second semester to taunt her for a few days, and now he had gone silent again.

Months of searching for clues and chasing leads only for them to go cold. Months of intellectual and emotional turmoil for absolutely no results. It was taxing.

Tonight was her last chance. The only hint she had left about her stalker’s identity. And it was a dead end. She had hit another brick wall while her stalker undoubtedly laughed from the shadows.

Her frustration couldn’t be put into words. It could only be felt as she stomped through the halls to her dorm. She could tell Thing felt it too by the way he lay still in her bag as if any movement would set her off. For all she knew, it would.

Her dorm came into view along with your withdrawn form. Instinctively, her eyes were drawn to your face, and she could tell by the drooping of your eyes and furrow of your brows that something had happened. Any other day she would be more than willing to listen to you and offer what little comfort she knew how to give, but right now she wanted to do anything but.

Electing to ignore you, she entered her dorm and threw her bag to the floor, barely registering Thing scampering off to her closet. The soft click of her door closing told her that you had followed her inside. Her fists clenched.

She wanted—no, needed you to leave. The white-hot anger in her chest was building steadily and she felt like a ticking time bomb. Any little thing would be enough to make her explode, and she wasn’t sure what she would do in the aftermath.

She prayed you would just leave her to suffer through her failure alone but you were far too kind for that. Instead, you spoke up.

“Do, um… do you need anything?”

During the many times Wednesday looked back at this moment, she could never pinpoint what exactly it was about the question that upset her. All she knew is that it was enough to detonate her.

The outburst itself was hazy to her, even while it was happening. She vaguely remembered turning around and yelling, but mostly she recalled the rush of relief she felt after expelling so much anger, how much lighter she felt.

But the moments afterward, she could still see clear as day.

The shock on your face, and the unmitigated hurt that crept in after. The tears in your eyes. The way her own relief mutated to horror when she realized what she had done.

She had turned her own world upside down in mere moments and she couldn’t collect herself enough to right it before you rushed out the door.

The only thing she could do was call out your name before the door slammed shut.

Wednesday was frozen. Somewhere, she could hear Thing feverish tapping something to her, but she paid him no mind. She couldn’t, not with the way her thoughts were racing. A million different things ran through her mind, but one thought kept rising to the surface.

She had hurt you.

She hadn’t meant to, but intentions meant nothing in the aftermath of a tragedy. And now she had to face the consequences.

-

Sleep eluded her completely that night.

She laid in bed for what felt like an eternity, replaying your conversation and yet it seemed as if she blinked and suddenly sunlight was shining through the window. She shook herself out of her reverie and got ready for class.

Thing was noticeably absent. He was most likely upset with her for what happened. She couldn’t blame him, not when she felt the same.

Throughout her first class, she couldn’t help but watch you. You were notably more quiet and almost standoffish, avoiding people more than usual. She hadn’t seen you smile once the whole day. It pained her to think that her words had wounded you so deeply.

She kept her eyes on you all day, monitoring you discreetly. Or so she thought. During your last class, you turned and glared at her with such rage, such vitriol that she had to force her eyes away.

She was used to being the target of people’s resentment. It usually overjoyed her to see how negatively she was able to affect people with her mere presence, but it was different this time. This time, it was you, and seeing you look at her with so much anger made something bubble up in her chest.

Guilt.

Guilt so devastating, so overpowering that she couldn’t at least try to act on it.

-

An hour was all she allowed herself before she went to your dorm.

The walk was familiar, one she could do in her sleep, but this time she was aware of every step she took. Every inch closer to you made her tenser. Her mind was turbulent, in complete disarray. She was anxious, she realized. She had no clue what she was going to say.

Thing had yet to make an appearance so she couldn’t fall back on his guidance or companionship. She was left to deal with this alone.

For the first time in her life, she had no idea what was going to happen next. And as much as she tried to deny it, that scared her.

And it turned out that she was right to be scared because you refused to listen to her. You didn’t even open the door. She couldn’t be upset with you, she knew this was her fault. But she had to try.

“Listen,” she started again, “it is truly urgent. I…”

There was so much she wanted to say but nothing came out. An apology was sitting on her tongue, waiting to be said, and yet the idea of really facing what she did and opening up to you held her back.

“Thing has something important to tell you.”

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Shame bloomed in her stomach.

Coward.

A hard scoff sounded from the other side of the door.

“Yeah? Well, tell Thing that if he ever needs to talk about something then my door is always open to him.”

The finality in your tone told her what she already knew: she had failed.

The conversation had reached its definitive end, but she didn’t move. Her feet were planted in the hall outside your door, at odds with herself about what to do next. Part of her wanted to speak up, to tell you the truth. And yet another part of her, the one she let lead her through most of her life, wanted to just leave and avoid confronting her feelings completely.

She stood outside your door for minutes on end, a war raging between her emotions and her pride. But in the end, her pride stood victorious, and she walked away, heart heavier than it’d ever been before.

-

The following weeks were long.

She didn’t bother trying to talk to you again after her disastrous visit, knowing it would end the same way. You made it clear that you didn’t want to talk to her, so she wouldn’t force you to do so.

Despite that, she couldn’t bring herself to fully withdraw from you. After months of your constant presence, your sudden absence from her life was surprisingly difficult for her to deal with.

It felt as if everywhere she looked, there was an empty spot where you would usually inhabit. On her bed during her writing hour, the seat next to her in class, the space beside her at her lunch table—all places you should be. But you weren’t anymore.

There was an emptiness in her chest that she didn’t think even the joys of torturing Pugsley could fill.

So she resolved to keep watch over you from afar. She told herself that it was to make sure that no one hurt you or that you didn’t do anything stupid. But she knew better, and so did Thing.

He wasn’t on board with the idea at first, still mad about what Wednesday had said, but after she brought up the group of werewolves that bullied you, he hesitantly joined her. But they both knew this wasn’t about some stupid mutts.

Still though, he preferred to spend more of his free time with Enid, and she allowed it for the time being.

Enid herself had also been acting a bit differently. She was still bright, bubbly, and all-too friendly with Wednesday, but it was clear she knew something happened. The werewolf would cautiously avoid talking about you to Wednesday, quickly changing the topic whenever your name came up in conversation during lunch or class.

Sometimes, she’d catch herself staring for just a little too long and when she turned her attention back to what she was doing, she’d see Enid giving her a certain look. It wasn’t exactly pity, but it was close enough to make her vehemently uncomfortable. She tried to glare, cold and deadly, but her roommate had long since stopped being afraid of her, so she just let it be.

After school, she would look for you. Only to make sure you were safe, of course. If she wasn’t able to go for whatever reason then she sent Thing to keep an eye on you.

You spent a lot of time in the library for the first week, but then your schedule abruptly became more erratic.

She saw you head into the woods a few times after your last period and though her curiosity was peaked, she never had the heart to follow you. Some things deserved to remain private.

Days were long and arduous, but weeks passed, nonetheless.

Exactly one month after you stormed out of Wednesday’s dorm, Wednesday saw you use your powers for the first time. And it happened at lunch of all times.

She was sitting at her usual table, idly listening to Enid and her friends gossiping about something she didn’t care about. Her textbook lay open in front of her, completely neglected. She brought it along to try and distract herself from thinking about you.

Needless to say, it wasn’t working very well.

Her eyes were drawn to your solitary figure across the quad but she resisted. She had to study and she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle seeing you now. Especially given what day it was.

It had officially been a month since Wednesday’s outburst, an entire month without you.

She wished she could say it got easier with time, that the ache lessened with each day but that would be a lie. In fact, it was the exact opposite of Wednesday’s reality. Each day was more torturous than the last, the hole in my chest growing wider every day you were gone.

But she couldn’t think about that—about you now. She had studying to do. She was only two weeks ahead in her classes when she was usually at least a month ahead and that bothered her. So she forced her eyes down to the passages of text and made herself focus on her studies. And she succeeded.

Nearly.

A familiar, obnoxious voice cut through the noise, instinctively making her tense. She looked over and her fingers twitched.

Adrian. The pathetic werewolf that loved to make your life at Nevermore hell.

She couldn’t make out what he was saying but he was looming over you, his equally inept friends sneering behind him.

Her fists clenched. But they relaxed when her gaze settled on you. Because, unlike every other time she had witnessed this, you weren’t scared or resigned. No, you looked more annoyed than anything, either staring up at him blankly or ignoring him entirely in favor of your book. The sight made her brows raise slightly.

No matter how hard he tried to taunt you, you gave him no leverage—just a dead-eyed stare. Instead of just giving up, he riled up even further, his voice raising to a yell that echoed across the quad. The students began to quiet as they took notice of Adrian’s tantrum and Wednesday’s patience was quickly running thin.

She shared a look with a worried Enid, who looked ready to pop her claws out at any moment. Thing had also crawled out of her bag up onto the table, the three of them silently agreeing to step in if things went too far.

He reached for the knife on your lunch tray, and she had enough. She didn’t care if you hated her for interfering, she was going to kill him.

She went to push herself up when suddenly, Adrian froze. There was seemingly no reason for it, he simply stopped.

Puzzled, Wednesday observed the scene before her, trying to put the pieces together. They fell in place only moments later. Her mind flashed back to a few months before, when you finally mustered the courage to tell her about the powers you inherited from your parents.

Telekinesis.

You were doing that to him.

She watched as you leisurely read your book, ignoring Adrian’s friend’s pleas to let him go. The whole quad watched on as you finally stood and approached Adrian, like a predator stalking up to its prey. You threatened him like she did so many times before and she was positively mesmerized by the sight.

The boys ran off the moment you let Adrian go in a depressing flurry of cowardly panic. Wednesday felt her lips twitch.

There was only silence in the aftermath. All eyes were on you and Wednesday wondered if everyone was as entranced as she was.

You didn’t seem to care either way. You said nothing, only used your powers to put the knife back on your tray and turned back to your book. Not a care in the world for the dozens of stunned onlookers you left in your wake.

Hushed whispers began to engulf the quad as minutes passed, but Wednesday paid them no mind.

In front of her, Enid giggled and, much to her embarrassment, Wednesday nearly jumped at the sound. She had forgotten there were other people with her.

“That was amazing,” Enid gushed. A chorus of different positive answers rose from around the table and Wednesday couldn’t help but agree with them.

It was amazing. You were amazing.

Sure, she knew about your abilities, but she had never actually seen you use them—no one had until today. But now that she had, she was obsessed. That must have been why you spent so much time in the forest, she realized. To practice using your telekinesis in private. Suddenly, she wished she had followed you.

For the rest of lunch, she was left to marvel at what she had seen, dark eyes never straying from you as you read.

-

The incident remained on replay in Wednesday’s head for days.

It appeared that the rest of the school was in this predicament as well. Enid, of course, raved about your actions on her blog, informing anyone that hadn’t been in the quad of your power. Adrian and his pack of dimwits disappeared, much to Wednesday’s unending amusement.

Good riddance.

Overnight, you became the biggest gossip of the week. All eyes were on you and Wednesday couldn’t help but notice the similarities between your current situation and her when she first arrived at Nevermore.

She witnessed the students part like the Red Sea when you walked down the halls between classes. Loud conversations quieted to whispers as you passed and rose back up in volume when you left. Rumors, both bad and good, began swirling around you.

(Enid took it upon herself to try and disprove the bad ones on her blog. Wednesday just glared at anyone she heard gossiping about you. It was incredibly effective.)

The best part was that you didn’t care, at least not outwardly. Only a month ago, you would’ve hidden from this much attention, but now you seemed not to even notice. Disinterest was a good look on you, she noted.

The only downside of this was that it made any efforts to get close or approach without you instantly noticing her much more difficult. Wednesday didn’t want to risk it since she now knew that she had gotten a glimpse of your abilities.

She didn’t think you would use your powers on her, but it was still something she had to consider. So she elected to wait for a natural opportunity to get close to you.

And that opportunity came in an unexpected place: Botany class.

Wednesday despised Botany class. Both because it brought up bad memories from last semester and because the new teacher, Mr. Emerson annoyed her. Badly. His general happy demeanor and gratingly chipper voice made her want to commit unspeakable offenses. Worst of all, the overexcited imbecile loved group projects.

When he announced that he would be assigning another one, it was met with a predictable amount of displeasure from the class. Usually, Wednesday would be among them, but not this time.

One of the only tolerable things about Emerson’s group projects was his tendency to pair students with similar grades together. Given Wednesday’s immaculate grades, she was always put with someone with similar educational prospects.

You weren’t normally one of those people since you always had average grades in the subject. But your scores had risen over the semester, meaning the chances of you being paired with Wednesday were high.

Wednesday sat up straighter in her chair. This was possibly the best situation she could have found herself in now.

You being bound to her by educational obligation meant that she would be given ample opportunity to finally talk to you. It was perfect.

She impatiently waited for Emerson to announce the pairings, eyes instinctually drifting back toward your table.

For just a moment, she dared to believe that the stars would align for her here—just this once.

Then Emerson announced that you would be paired with her ex-archnemesis, Bianca Barclay.

Her jaw clenched as she stared into the space in front of her, not bothering to acknowledge her partner sheepishly approaching her table. She was foolish to waste her time with something as flimsy as hope.

She grimly watched you and Bianca nod at each other. You seemed satisfied with the news, probably because you hadn’t been paired with her.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you was as dissatisfied as she was.

-

Something unexpected happened after the project.

Wednesday had noticed you were spending time with Bianca but thought nothing of it. You two were partners after all. It was most likely just for the class project. Then, with no apparent reason to Wednesday, Bianca was suddenly everywhere with you.

She sat next to you in class, you joined her table at lunch, you could both be seen hanging around campus together after classes. She had even dropped Wednesday as her fencing partner to partner with you.

It hit Wednesday unexpectedly hard.

It was utterly maddening to watch you use your powers to get a pen Bianca dropped in class or see you laughing together without a care in the world at lunch.

And it was even worse because Wednesday knew she had no right to be upset about it. You weren’t hers anymore, so she had absolutely no say in whom you chose to spend time with. She knew that. She really did.

But something about seeing you so close to Bianca of all people—someone she couldn’t exactly call a friend but also certainly wasn’t an enemy—was too much for her.

Watching the two of you in fencing class was especially difficult. You had never been the best at fencing, having little to no interest, but now you seemed engrossed in the activity as Bianca helped you get into the on guard position. Her hands were on your arms and legs as she got you into position and Wednesday could do nothing but grip her sabre in her ire.

The other students avoided her, and they were smart to do so because she likely would have found a way to maim them now, even with their protective gear on.

She lasted about three classes before she cracked.

You were smiling and laughing in a way she hadn’t seen for nearly two months now and while she was glad to see you in higher spirits, she did not like that you were happier because of her.

As soon as the bell rang, she was on her way over to you, her determination and anger likely apparent in every step she took.

For a brief moment, your eyes met hers and Wednesday felt electricity course through her veins. It had been so long since you had truly looked at her. The eye contact was invigorating. But unfortunately, it didn’t last long because Bianca followed your line of sight and immediately jumped into action.

She watched Bianca drag you away, a new, unpleasant burning sensation making itself known in her chest. As if she had ingested acid and it was eating away at her insides slowly.

It was jealousy, she realized with an internal jolt.

She was jealous. Of Bianca fucking Barclay.

The epiphany nearly made Wednesday break out into hives. This had gone on too long, she decided. Whether you wanted to see her or not, she would find a way to make this right.

-

It took Wednesday nearly three days to reach an embarrassingly simple conclusion.

She had been searching for a previously unthought of solution. Goody was a witch, so she thought perhaps an incantation or spell of some kind would be of use.

When, in reality, the answer had been in front of her the entire time. Or, more accurately, it had been staring at her from atop her desk.

Wednesday was a writer (still unpublished, but that wasn’t important) so it made the most sense for her to translate her complex feelings into written words.

The letter took two days to finish. She dedicated as much time to it as she could, even putting aside her novel for the days it took to complete, but she struggled much more than she anticipated.

Narrating Viper’s woeful adventures and hardships was easy, but something about transcribing her own feelings and thoughts into words evaded her. It just didn’t come naturally to Wednesday, and it showed.

Countless attempts ended up crumpled in her overflowing garbage can. She grimaced at the amount of paper being wasted, but it needed to be perfect. And eventually, she wrote one that was as close to perfection as she believed possible.

The moment the letter was finished, she put it in an envelope and called Thing to help her deliver it, ignoring the inquisitive look Enid was giving her from her side of the room. She didn’t want to waste another second.

She made the trip to your dorm in record time, pausing before your door. You were rarely in your dorm after classes these days, but she wanted to be safe.

She knocked. No answer. She nodded at Thing, who was resting on her shoulder, and extended her arm for him. Thing crawled down her arm and grabbed onto the doorknob but hesitated. Wednesday gave him a look.

“You wanted me to apologize, now I’m apologizing. I’m not going to take anything, I will simply leave the envelope on the bed and we will leave. Breaking and entering isn’t even a serious crime anyways,” Wednesday muttered, fishing the lockpick out of her pocket and giving it to the appendage. “Now hurry up, we don’t know when she’ll be back.”

With that, Thing got to work, fiddling around with the tool until the lock clicked, and the door opened. He hopped off the knob as Wednesday walked inside, immediately climbing up to your bed. Wednesday took a moment to look around the familiar room.

It had been a while since she’d been there, but it looked relatively the same. Little things were moved here and there but it remained mostly true to her memory. She took a step toward your bed when something on her right caught her eye.

On the wall just above your desk was a piece of paper. It was rather crudely hung onto the wall by what looked like a pen.

The reasonable part of her told her to leave it alone, but the detective within her couldn’t dismiss a possible clue.

She crept forward and braced her hand on the wall, careful not to touch the paper as she swiftly read through its contents. The letter, it turned out, was from your parents and it was appalling. How any parent could say such abhorrent things to their child, she didn’t know but it made her want to pay them a visit and test out her favorite torture methods on them.

Wednesday read through it again, committing every word to memory to quote back when she got her hands on your parents, but her eyes kept getting caught on one word.

Pathetic.

It was repeated a few times in the letter, making it stand out but it resonated with her for another reason. Because when she read it, she was taken back to that night when she hurt you so badly and she realized why that insult made her pause.

She had said that. She had called you the same thing your parents did.

Startled, Wednesday stepped back, her mind racing. This explained a lot—the recent change in your behavior, your willingness to use your powers, why you avoided Wednesday so intensely.

Suddenly, the letter in her hands felt inadequate. With this new information in mind, Wednesday made a decision.

“Change of plans. We’re leaving,” she marched to the door, envelope held so tightly in her grasp that it began to crease. Thing remained on the bed, confusion apparent in his stance. Wednesday looked back, exasperated. “I will tell you what’s going on later. Come on.”

Thing hurried off the bed and over to Wednesday, taking his rightful place on her shoulder as she walked out of your dorm.

Enid was gone when she reentered their dorm, likely off with Yoko and Divina. Wednesday was admittedly thankful for her absence. As much as she had grown to care for the multi-colored werewolf, she could still be a lot at times and she needed peace right now.

Silently, Wednesday stationed herself in her chair in front of her typewriter. Thing jumped off her shoulder and rounded on her, about to ask what was going on, but one look at her face had him running off to her bed.

Wednesday never liked unexpected developments in her cases and that remained true now. Your parents’ letter took her completely by surprise. It recontextualized everything.

The damage she had done was unforeseeable and she saw now that a letter alone, no matter how beautifully written, would be insufficient. You deserved more than a piece of paper after what she’d done.

Wednesday looked down at the envelope in her hand. It contained so much of how she felt and yet it simultaneously said so little in the grand scheme of things.

Because even apart from her regrets, she had so much she wanted to tell you now. She wanted to tell you how proud she was to see you stand up to Adrian and his friends, how incredible your abilities were, how good you looked while using them. But before she could do any of that, she knew she owed you an apology—a real one.

One delivered from her own mouth rather than through stationery.

But you were still avoiding her like the black plague. Approaching you herself had already failed. Deep down, she knew what she had to do. If she wanted an audience with you, she would have to do something she despised.

Ask for help.

-

A firm knock cut through the silence of the hallway.

Wednesday waited patiently, sparing another look around the corridor to make sure nobody she knew was around to see her. The sound of approaching footsteps brought her attention back in front of her.

The door opened to reveal a casually clothed Bianca Barclay, whose expression instantly hardened at the sight of Wednesday.

“What the hell do you want, Addams?” Bianca asked, an aggression she hadn’t been on the receiving end of since her first semester present in her tone. Wednesday paid no mind to it.

“I have an important matter to discuss with you.”

Bianca laughed. “No.”

The siren began to shut the door but Wednesday shoved her foot in the doorway to prevent it from closing.

“Move, Wednesday.”

Bianca tried to kick her foot out of the way. Wednesday didn’t budge.

“No. I need to talk to you,” Wednesday said, moving to make eye contact with the taller girl once more. Bianca tried to push the door closed. When she gained no traction, she sighed.

“You’re not going to leave me alone about this are you?”

“No,” Wednesday deadpanned.

Bianca stared for a moment, then opened the door. Wednesday strode inside and stood by Bianca’s desk, hands poised behind her back as Bianca sat down on her bed.

“What do you want, Wednesday?”

“I have a feeling you already know what I’d like to discuss with you,” Wednesday stated, unblinking eyes boring into her former adversary. Bianca was giving Wednesday a hard glare. Not nearly menacing enough to compare to Wednesday’s own, but an admirable effort, nonetheless.

“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”

“I simply need to speak with her.”

Bianca snickered mirthlessly. “Yeah, because that went so well the last few times, right?”

Wednesday bitterly swallowed the myriad of insults on her tongue. She supposed she deserved that. And pissing Bianca off further wouldn’t help her case.

Bianca was about as resistant as Wednesday expected her to be. The siren was almost as stubborn as she was.

The logical part of her knew what needed to be done, no matter how much she dreaded it. In order to get her counterpart to listen, she would have to do something downright deplorable: tell Bianca the truth.

She took a deep breath. God, emotions were embarrassing. But even just the chance to talk to you again made it worth it, so she pushed the lingering humiliation down and opened herself up. Just a little bit.

“Listen, I know that I hurt her badly. What I did—what I said has haunted me in the weeks since it happened. My intentions are not nefarious. I truly just want a chance to apologize to her in person,” Wednesday’s fists clenched, fighting every instinct to roll her eyes as she forced out a final, “Please.”

Bianca stayed silent even after Wednesday finished her plea. Seconds turned to minutes and Wednesday was nearly about to walk away when Bianca sighed and pulled out her phone. Wednesday’s brows furrowed, curiously regarding the siren as she typed something out.

Bianca set her phone down and met Wednesday’s questioning gaze. “I asked her to meet me at the library tomorrow at 4:30. You better give her the apology she deserves.”

“I will,” Wednesday asserted, resolute. Bianca nodded.

“Good. Now get out, I have things to do besides listen to your begging.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, but she spun on her heels without comment. She paused by the door, turned back. “Thank you, Bianca.”

Surprise flashed in the siren’s eyes but her expression remained stony. “This is your only chance, Addams. If you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.”

Wednesday gave her a sharp nod and left the dorm.

-

Wednesday was at the library thirty minutes before your scheduled meetup.

She tasked Thing with keeping the door locked and standing guard. Wednesday herself lingered behind some shelves in a corner of the library, awaiting your arrival.

The seconds felt like hours as she stood in waiting, the hard bookshelf against her back grounding her. She felt as if all of her nerve endings were attached to live wire. Wednesday couldn’t remember the last time she was this nervous about anything. Perhaps she never had been.

You showed up at 4:20, early as always. She used the extra ten minutes to further prepare herself for the conversation. She couldn’t mess it up this time. This was her only shot.

At exactly 4:30, she walked over and revealed herself to you.

It started as catastrophicly as she feared it would, but somehow, she got you to stay. You gave her five minutes of your time and she wasn’t going to waste it.

So she swallowed her pride, tore down her walls, and apologized to you with everything she had. Her speech went above and beyond what she initially wrote out. Once she started, she just couldn’t stop. The floodgates were open, and all of her emotions came pouring out to you.

By the time she was finished, she could only hope that she didn’t go over the allotted five minutes.

You were quiet after she finished speaking, enough to daunt her. She offered you an out, convinced you would take it and never talk to her again. But that wasn’t what happened.

Against all her expectations, against all odds, you forgave her.

One more chance was what you told her and she took those words to heart. This was her last chance and she refused to squander it.

In the moment, she had no real reaction to your forgiveness, she couldn’t muster one truthfully. The intense bout of emotional honesty had drained her. When she finally regained a modicum of her composure, she hesitantly wrapped her arms around you, resting her head over your heart.

Later, she would be embarrassed by the tears that gathered in her eyes when she felt you return the embrace, but in the moment she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The feeling of your arms around her erupted a wildfire within her and for the first time in months, she basked in the flames.

-

Eventually, she let go of you and you both reluctantly left the library with promises to see the other the next day.

Thing eagerly approached her the moment she opened the door, tapping out “what happened?” the whole way back to her dorm but she stayed quiet.

Expelling so many emotions in such a short amount of time drained her. She decided to just tell Thing and Enid at the same time so she wouldn’t need to talk any more than she had to.

Enid was ecstatic that you were back on good terms, as was Thing. The hand wasted no time scurrying off to your dorm, giving Wednesday a gentle pat on the way out. Enid on the other hand jumped on Wednesday, wrapping her in a tight hug. Wednesday rolled her eyes but allowed the contact. If Enid noticed the extra five seconds Wednesday waited before shoving her off, she didn’t say anything.

The next day, she woke feeling lighter than she had in a while.

It was a Tuesday so unfortunately, your schedules didn’t intersect much. She went about her day as usual, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit distracted.

She was finally on her way to lunch—on her way to see you—when someone fell into step beside her.

‘I heard your talk went well,” Bianca said, perfectly matching her strides. Wednesday nodded.

“Indeed. I suppose I should thank you again for your assistance.”

Bianca said nothing. The siren stopped just before they reached their destination, pulling Wednesday to a halt as well. Wednesday looked up at the taller girl questioningly.

“I’m happy for the both of you. Really, I am. But, Wednesday, if you hurt her again, I will use my siren song and make you tear your heart out of your chest with your bare hands.”

Wednesday’s lips twitched, slightly impressed by the threat. She stepped toward the siren.

“If I ever do, I will tear it out myself. No siren song required.”

Bianca stared for a long moment then nodded, and they went their separate ways.

Wednesday stepped into the quad and saw you at her table, listening to Enid’s overly excited rambling about something. Thing sat on the table between you two, apparently also invested in whatever gossip was happening.

Your eyes met hers over Enid’s shoulder and you gave her a small smile as she rounded the table and settled in her usual spot beside you.

“Wednesday,” Enid exclaimed in greeting, “you’re finally here! You have to hear about the drama going on with the Fangs. It’s insane. I’m working on a post for it now-“

Wednesday immediately tuned her out, instead focusing on the way your thigh lightly pressed against hers. Her eyes were drawn to the hand resting in your lap. She fought the urge to reach for it, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

You saw her eying your hand and subtly placed it on your thigh. An offer. Wednesday graciously accepted, gently linking your pinkies, the ghost of a smile on her face.

It wasn’t the same, and it likely wouldn’t be for some time, but what mattered was that you were back by her side. And as long as Wednesday could help it, you would never leave it again.

[wandering-winchesters]

Tragedy

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3,626 Summary: The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured. Trigger Warnings: injury, firearms, blood, death. SPN level violence Requested: No A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I had fun writing it. Please let me know what you think. :)

Masterlist

I let out a sigh, tossing my laptop onto the motel bed, frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. I had spent the last several hours searching through local records, looking for any deaths that fit the profile of the ghosty murderer floating around town, but nothing lined up. I wished Sam was here, he would’ve been incredibly helpful searching for an answer. But I had split off from them a couple weeks ago, returning to solo hunts, like the old days. They had both argued with me, tried to convince me to stay with them., but I had insisted on going off on my own again. I had to prove to myself that I still could, I felt as if I was slipping into a pit of dependance and a lack of self sufficiency. 

I had spent the last six months hunting with the two Winchester boys, helping them tackle numerous cases, which was nice. However, it terrified me how comfortable I was around them, I had told myself that I wouldn’t ever get too close to someone ever again. But with them, it was too easy to fall into comfortable dependency. Especially Dean. God, Dean Winchester. His eyes could pierce my soul if I let them, they appeal to me like a siren appeals to helpless sailors. I couldn’t resist him when I was around him, causing me to make stupid choices, I went with his gut over my own and it left me feeling helpless. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t doing anything intentionally, I just couldn’t help but fall further in love with the green eyed hunter every moment I spent with him. Which is exactly why I left, love had never come easy for me. I had lost my parents as a teenager and branched off on my own, evading the torment that would have greeted me had I gone to live with my Uncle. I never went to college, I hunted. Yet while on one of those hunts, I met Ian. Ian had been the love of my life, before he met an unfortunate end in a terrible car accident, eerily similar to the way my parents died. Death, followed me and those that I let in and loved. 

So I had sworn off love, friendship and anything else that let people into my life. That was until the two Winchesters had busted down the door to the old house, guns drawn, expecting to find me in the captivity of a werewolf den. Instead, they found me. My own weapon drawn, the body of a dead werewolf at my feet. I wish I had been recording that moment, the looks on their faces were utterly priceless. I had agreed to help them on one more hunt, that turned into three, which turned into six months worth. I was getting too comfortable and I just had to get out. That’s how I wound up alone in this motel, attempting to crack the case in this podunk town. I laid down on the musty motel bed, pushing my laptop onto the far side and leaving enough room for me to lay down. I stare at the cracks in the ceiling, following the trail they make and trying to distinguish where one starts and another one ends. Then it hits me, I have been looking in the wrong place this whole time. All of the deaths had occurred at the local bar and I had assumed it was a vengeful spirit, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was a, shit- what are they called? I grab my laptop hurriedly pulling up the lore I had been reading earlier, my eyes scanning the words quickly, skimming until I land on what I was looking for. A wraith. They had all died under mysterious circumstances, but they all had the same wound on their forehead. A small, circular incision. It had to be a wraith, but who was it? There was one bartender, he was my number one suspect. I glance at the clock, it’s not too late to go now. I ensure it is loaded with silver bullets before I tuck my gun into the holster, placing it at the small of my back and covering it with my leather jacket. I glance around my room once more making sure that I am not leaving anything behind. I send Sam a quick text, updating him as to my suspicions, he had texted me earlier in the day just checking in with me, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep him updated. 

The drive to the small little dive bar was short and uneventful. I checked to make sure my gun was still in place as I opened the door to the interior, the hinges in need of help judging by the loud shriek of protest they gave off as I opened it. I take in my surroundings, making note of the few people inside the bar. There were five, the bartender and four other customers not including myself. The bartender glances my way, gesturing that I can sit anywhere, he’s an unassuming man. His hair neat and well groomed, yet everything else about him is a mystery, we’ll call him blondie. I take a seat at the corner of the bar, my back to a wall and my field of view encompassing the majority of the room. 

“What can I get you?” He asks, setting a coaster down in front of me. I consider him carefully, trying to determine if he was a threat. I order a beer and a water, fully prepared to sit back and wait everyone else out. The television is the loudest sound in the bar, conversations around me hushed and sparse. Most people too focused on their drinks or the television to be deep in conversation. That’s how the next hour goes, I sip my beer and observe the people around me, watching and waiting. I pull out my phone and see a text and a missed call.

    -Missed call, 9:53 P.M. Sam Winchester 

    -10:13 P.M., From Dean Winchester- Sammy said you found a wraith? Want some backup? They can be tricky bastards. 

An unconscious smile pricks my lips, the concern in his text obvious. I respond with a brief thanks, but no thanks and send Sammy another text asking if everything is okay. 

A few of the other people in the room had left by this point, leaving just myself, the blonde man behind the bar and one other guy, who appeared to be in his mid thirties. I drained the last sip of my beer, setting the bottle down on the surface of the bar. I rolled my shoulders back, my upper back starting to ache from the lack of support provided by the stool that I had been sitting on for the last while. I am taken aback by another beer being set down in front of me, I hadn’t ordered it. The confusion must be clear on my face, because the bar tender gestures to the man a few seats away from me. “It’s from him.” Blondie says, a small smile pulling at his features, which confuses me further. I glance once more to the one other customer in the bar and I find his eyes are already fixed on me, dark and focused. 

“Thanks.” I mutter, raising my beer towards him, suspicion heavy in my voice. For whatever reason, this rubs me the wrong way. The environment in the room had changed and every bone in my body was screaming danger. My gut said this was about to get bad. 

“I figured you deserved another beer before you meet your accidental death. We knew you were a hunter from the second you pulled into town. It’s a pity, you’re too pretty to die this young. Too bad.”  His words hit me like a brick to the face, my eyes close and I take a deep breath. This was it, it wasn’t one wraith it was two. In that moment, I regretted leaving the safety of numbers. Had Sam and Dean been here, it would’ve been three to two. Not two to one, with me on the losing team. I blink once more, taking one more deep breath, the kind that makes your lungs scream from too much oxygen and I hurl my beer bottle at the bartenders head. This action buying me a few seconds, enough to get off the stool and anchor my feet on the old wooden floor. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough. Blondie had stumbled back from the impact of my beer smacking off the side of his head, however that had given the other wraith the opportunity to close the distance between us. His fist collided with the corner of my jaw he then proceeded to throw me into the hard surface of the bar. I grunt, the sheer force that he had thrown me with enough to knock the air out of my lungs. This hunt was about to go down terribly, I could handle one wraith on my own, but two? I don’t know if I could manage to take out both of them. I can already feel the throbbing in my jaw from his blow and I am dreading how I will feel in the morning, if I make it to the morning. I rest my elbows on the bar top, using my momentum to kick my feet into his chest and send him flying backwards. I use the gap I have created to pull my gun from the waistband of my pants, aim and fire a silver bullet right between his eyes. He drops, dead weight. 

“NO! You’re going to pay for that, you bitch!” Blondie yells, his eyes trained on his friend who had just fallen, dead, to the floor of the bar. I turn to face him, my gun pointed directly at him. He snarls, his attention turned towards me. For whatever reason, I hesitate, my finger doesn’t pull the trigger and I don’t end him. A complete mistake, he closes the distance between us faster than I can comprehend and sends my gun clattering to the floor. His hands shoving me backwards, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. It happens in a matter of seconds, seconds I cannot even process. My gun is no longer in my hands, but it is clutched in his grip. He points it towards me and fires, it hits me directly in the side. A scream leaves my lips, but I don’t have time to process what just happened because his body is now on top of mine, his anger clear and pulsating through him. My hands come up to defend my face, pushing him away with all of my strength, but he is stronger.  I wrap my fingers around his wrist, knowing what is to follow. The spike in his wrist is already extended and it is clear that he intends to send it straight through my skull. 

“Any last words?” He asks, his mouth set into a sneer, his fingers just brushing my forehead preparing to send the spike through my forehead. 

I grit my teeth, every nerve in my body screaming, adrenaline pumping and thoughts rushing through me. I laugh, bitter and cold and It catches him off guard. That slight hesitation is all I need to get the upper hand, I slide my hand up from where I was gripping his arm. I grab onto the spike extended from his wrist and wrench it backwards with all of my strength, effectively breaking it in two. His scream sends shivers down my spine, the spike still clutched tightly in my fist. I pull the knife from where I keep it hidden around my neck and drive it through his skull, much like he had intended to do to me. His full weight falls onto me and I cry out in pain, his body crushing the oxygen out of my lungs and the bullet wound in my side is throbbing like no other. I manage to slide out from underneath of him, slowly and agonizingly. I scoot myself backwards towards the wall, finally reaching it and I slump back against it. I look down at the hand I had pressed to the gun shot wound on my side and wince, it’s not a pretty sight. Crimson has soaked through the white t-shirt I was wearing, a lot of blood by the looks of it. My head is spinning, either from blood loss or the blow to the head, I wasn’t sure which one. I cover my mouth as a coughing fit wracks my body and when I pull my hand away there are traces of blood there too. Fuck. This really wasn’t good. Before I could even register what I was doing, I had pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Dean. He picks up on the second ring. 

“How’s it going sweetheart? Did you change your mind about wanting help with the wraiths?” He asks, his tone cheery, I can hear the roar of the Impala in the background and it brings a slight smile to my face. I must have remained silent for longer than I thought because Dean speaks again, his voice serious and concern flecked throughout. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“Mmm, I took out the wraiths, but they got me good too. Any chance you’re nearby?” I groan, trying to reposition myself in such a way that I can apply better pressure to the wound in my side. I can hear the Impala accelerating, as Dean responds. “Shit. We are twenty minutes out from town, figured we’d surprise you. Where’s the bar?” I manage to give him brief directions, doing my best to recall where exactly I was. 

“I’m so tired Dean.” I whisper, the phone beginning to slip from my hand and away from my ear. 

“Hey, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that, you hear me? You stay with me, talk to me. I am almost there sweetheart.” He responds and I can hear the panic rising in his voice but its too late. Every breath is a battle, holding my phone to my ear is impossible. The amount of strength it requires is simply too much. I watch as it clatters to the floor, my eyes slowly blinking shut. I slump forward, the world around me fading into black. 

—

I vaguely notice voices, irritating voices drawing me back towards consciousness. I try my damndest to ignore them, the more I focus on them the greater the pain is flowing through my body. I hear my name being yelled, my shoulders behind jostled and my body being laid flat on a hard wooden surface. My head is placed onto something soft and I take that as permission to sleep. Yet I don’t get to do that, hands grab my face pulling me back into consciousness. 

“Y/N, hey, oh thank God, look at me Y/N.” Dean is leaning over me grim faced, his hand pressed tightly against my rips holding something against it. I wince, trying to pull his hand away but he stops me. Sam’s face swims into view as well, his hand cradling the back of my head. 

“Dean.” I sigh, my voice weak and seemingly coming from someone other than myself. “Doesn’t seem too bad, does it?” I ask, laughing slightly before grimacing from the pain that causes. His face is pale, eyes searching for the answer to my question, he doesn’t have to answer, I know it doesn’t look good. 

“Im going to get you out of here, I promise. You’re gonna be okay.” He says, lifting my shirt so he can tie the bandage around me as tight as he can. He picks me up, a yell leaving my lips in the process. I can hear him whispering reassurances and apologies as he carries me out to the Impala. It all feels like a dream, as if I am watching from above as all of this happens. I drift in and out of the darkness the entire car ride, the whole way into the motel room. Until eventually, it all fades to black once again. 

—

“I don’t know what else to do Sammy, the bullet went all of the way through. We stopped the bleeding and stitched her up. But that was hours ago! She still hasn’t woken back up.” Deans voice sounds nearby, anxious and completely grating on my nerves at the moment.

“Would you shut up! ‘M trying to sleep here.” I groan, the throbbing of my nerves returning like a wave of pain rushing over me. I hear a flurry of movement, before the bed sinks down next to me and I can feel a hand rest against the side of my face. I open my eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust my eyes to the harsh lighting a stark comparison to the darkness of sleep I was used to. When my eyes his, he falls apart. Tears spring to his eyes and he breaks down before my very eyes. His mouth opens and closes multiple times, searching for something, anything to say. 

“Dean, Im okay.” I whisper, my voice raspy and aching in my throat. He shakes his head, his eyes still trained on my own. 

“You weren’t, we almost lost you so many times Y/N.” His words sink in slowly, understanding for his reaction lands on me in droves. 

“I’m sorry I worried you. Thank you for getting to me in time.” I reach my hand up and touch the side of his face, surprised when he leans into my touch. 

“He made the twenty minute drive into an eight minute one.” Sam says, and for the first time I realize that he’s sitting in the chair a couple of feet from the bed. I chuckle lightly, unsurprised, Dean was always able to drive way too fast when he needed to, a talent almost. 

We spend the next few hours talking, questions being thrown at me from every angle. I do my best to answer them, but exhaustion quickly settles in. Sam notices and mentions to Dean that they should let me get some sleep, there’s a slight argument over who will stay with me. Much to my surprise, Dean is insistent upon staying himself. Sam gives me a quick hug and excuses himself from the room, which leaves Dean and I alone. Oh so alone. It wasn’t the first time we had shared a room, but it felt completely different this time. An uncomfortable silence hangs between us, neither one of us wanting to be the one that breaks it. I shift my body, trying to prop myself up further in bed. A decision I regret as soon as I flex the wrong muscle and am greeted by a screaming pain in my side. I throw my head back, my mouth opening in a silent yell. Deans hands are on me in an instant, helping me settle into a more comfortable position. I give him a grateful smile and expect the silence to continue, but it doesn’t. 

“You’re never doing this again, you hear me? You’re only ever hunting with us from now on. I could’t bear it when I found you like that and I definitely couldn’t bear it if it ever happened again.” Dean says quietly, his eyes trained on the floor. I’m quiet for a minute, considering my response carefully, unsure where his words were coming from. Dean wasn’t controlling, so it wasn’t that. Concern was evident, but I didn’t think that was enough to spur him to make that declaration. 

“Dean, I am really okay. It was a bad turn of events, but I have been hunting for years on my own and I made it this far. You don’t need to worry about me, ill be-“ He cuts me off, his voice raised and his hands running through his already disheveled hair. 

“You don’t get it, do you? Ever since that night, six months ago, I have worried about you. I care about you, Y/N, so worrying comes with the territory. For a time, I thought you cared about me in that way. But then you left. You just left and I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I followed after you, not wanting something to happen to you and thank god I did.” His words leave me speechless, did he mean what I think he means? Before I can protest or respond in anyway, he’s walking over to me. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning towards me. His hand comes to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me towards him ever so slightly. He leans in, his face nearing my own and my eyes flutter shut. His nose brushes my own, his breath causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. 

“ I love you, Y/N and nearly losing you, made me realize that I couldn’t keep that to myself any longer. Fear in the face of tragedy and all of that.” He mumbles, his lips nearly brushing against my own as he speaks. I don’t think, I just act. I close the distance and press my lips against his own, dissolving into the kiss and I can tell he does too. His warmth envelopes me entirely, his lips, his touch, everything. When I finally pull away, my head is spinning. His words rushing through my mind, over and over again. “I love you too, Dean.” I whisper, smiling gently and I press another kiss to his lips. “Fear in the face of tragedy, how poetic.” 

[mulletpermsicantlookaway]

The Jockification of Jeremy, Part 3: Chase Makes His Choice

(For Parts 1 and 2 and the earlier stories this is a sequel to, see the earlier posts.)

I ended up not seeing Chase for nearly two weeks. I had sent him one or two texts. He hadn’t answered them, but he’d read them. I finally sent: “Bro, we need to talk”, and he replied: “I can’t hear you when you speak jockinese”. That made me mad, as I’m sure he wanted, but I realized that he was just lashing out. I felt bad for him, but I still couldn’t make up my mind what to do. I could just give him the Cup and wait for him to start to turn, but I kept remembering Coach Sanders saying that I might not need it. What had he been trying to tell me? I tried to think it through: I hadn’t needed the Cup for myself. Why? Because I had made out with James and Steve, apparently. So, was he telling me that Chase might start to turn into a jock if we made out? Maybe that was what he meant, but the chances of that seemed slim, since Chase wouldn’t even look at me now. And then I suddenly realized that I was overthinking it; the problem was really very simple: was Chase in love with me or not? If he was, then he’d still be in love with me – even though I’d become a jock. And if he wasn’t, then our friendship was over, because the two of us had nothing in common anymore. So I had to find out whether he loved me. And that meant I would have to see him again, whether he wanted to see me or not.

I had thought about asking one of the bros to help. Derek, for example, could easily have just picked Chase up and carried him to me. But that was a stupid idea. Even if it worked, it would just make Chase mad. And this was my problem, not my bros’ problem. If anyone was going to pick Chase up and carry him around, I would be the one to do it; I was getting big enough.

I put everything into one last effort to persuade Chase to see me. I sent him this: “Plz. Gotta talk 2 u just 1nce more. And then will leave u alone if that’s what u want. Plz I need u.”

He replied: “I nu I shd hve blocked u. OK. Will meet. Where?”

“My place.”

My parents were happy to see Chase again, because they hadn’t seen him now for weeks and were wondering why we weren’t friends anymore. I don’t know if they noticed how uncomfortable he looked, but he didn’t linger downstairs. We went right up to my room.

“Okay, Jeremy, what’s the big emergency? What do you need me for? Because I’m not doing homework for you or any other dumb jock, just so you know that.”

“I didn’t ask you here to do my homework, bro, I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, but how well, bro? What’d you get on that last history assignment? A C?”

“A B Minus, actually. I know it wasn’t my best, but I had a basketball game and a wrestling match that week. Anyway, I’m getting my grades back up. I have to anyway. Anything lower than a C-, I get kicked off the team.”

“And that would be a tragedy, that would. What the hell happened to you, Jeremy? Why are you acting like this? I can’t stand jocks. I really can’t. I can’t even look at you. And it smells like a locker room in here. Do you ever wash your jockstraps?”

“Yeah, I do, but I’m a big boy now, and big boys sweat. It’s not a crime, bro.”

“Maybe not, but the stink in here is. Yeah, you’re a big boy all right, Jeremy. I’ll grant you that. You’re about a foot taller than I am now, and judging from how you look in the tank tops and shorts you wear even this time of year, you’ve been packing on the muscle. And the body hair, too.  Geez. Look at you. I guess you’ve turned into your own wet dream, eh, Jeremy? You always did have a thing for jocks. But I still can’t figure out how you turned into one.  Did those neanderthals kidnap you, brainwash you, and pump you full of steroids?”

“I don’t take steroids, bro. Steroids shrink your balls. I think even you know that.”

“Okay, I’ll concede on that point. Even from here, I can tell you don’t have shrunken balls, unless you’ve been stuffing rocks in your jockstrap. Geez, Jeremy, how do walk around with those? And what the eff happened to your dick? It wasn’t like that before.”

“There, bro, you can manage to look at me when you want to. Glad you’re impressed, but I didn’t ask you over here to discuss my package.”

“Then what did you ask me here for, Jeremy? If it wasn’t for me to do your homework or admire the size of your balls, then what did you want from me?”

“This,” I said, pulling him to me and kissing him.

He struggled a bit at first, but I held him firmly, and pretty soon he was giving back as much as he was getting. His tongue pushed hungrily into my mouth. A minute later, though, he pulled away. “Damn it, Jeremy,” he said. “Did you have to do that? You’re big, you’re dumb, and you stink. I can’t. I just can’t.”

I put my hand on his rigid cock, which was tenting his pants, and said, “This is telling a different story, isn’t it Chase? You want to know why I asked you over? To tell you that I love you. I think I always loved you. I missed you so much. And I’m pretty sure you love me, too. Am I right?”

“Damn you,” Chase said, starting to kiss me again. He didn’t come up for air for a couple more minutes. “Fuck. I hate this. You want me to say it, don’t you? Yes, I love you. There. I said it. I think I’ve always loved you. Damn it.”

“But bro, I’m big and dumb, and I stink.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Chase. “And I still love you, you big, hot lunkhead. Although I’m starting to wonder how dumb you really are. You seem to know how to push all of my buttons. Now shut up and let’s get back to work. And stop calling me ‘Bro’!”

We got back to work. For such a little dude with zero experience that I knew of, he gave me a thorough workout. Once he finally got to it, I mean, he just went nuts. It was as if I’d broken some kind of barrier down inside him, and now that it was gone, he couldn’t get enough of me. I couldn’t believe little Chase could be such an animal. When we finally finished, we were both sweating heavily. Chase said, “I’m sorry. I had to do that or I was going to go crazy.”

“You did go crazy, bro. And nothing to be sorry for. I had a great time.”

“I did, too. Damn it. Why, Jeremy? I don’t like jocks.”

“Could’ve fooled me, bro”.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I like this jock. I love you, Jeremy. You were right about that. Well, we’ve certainly had a night. Now are you going to send me packing? Don’t you have a freshman to stuff into a locker or something, or a game to play?”

“Chase, dude, I love you like crazy, but you really need to get over your hate, okay? I’ve changed. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you need to be okay with that.”

“I know, Jeremy. I’ve just really been having trouble dealing with you as a jock. I thought I’d lost you forever, and it made me mean. I’m sorry. I know whatever changes you’ve been going through, it’s not your fault, and I haven’t been a good friend to you lately. But it’s hard for me to get used to. You really do smell like jock, you know, and now I’ve got that smell all over me. I feel a little queasy now, honestly.”

“I’m sorry about the jock smell, bro, honestly, I am, but I think you’re going to have to just live with it. I shower, like, every day. Sometimes more than once.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too. You’re right; I’ll just have to get used to it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so bad. Anyway, if that’s what I have to put up with, I’ll have to put up with it.”

“Bro, you’re sure you’re okay? Your voice is getting kind of hoarse.”

“Still a bit dizzy or whatever, but I feel fine otherwise,” he said, his voice cracking. “My throat’s just a little scratchy.”

I smiled, thinking Chase probably wouldn’t be needing that cup after all. “Bro,” I continued, “I know you’re not exactly interested in going out for a sport right now, but I just wanted to let you know that you owe Coach Sanders a huge favor.”

“Not sure I follow you, Jeremy. Why do I owe Coach Sanders a favor?”

“Because he was the one who told me not to give up on our friendship. Bro, I was so, like, sad that you weren’t talking to me that I went to ask his advice. And he was super nice and super helpful about it, and he made so much sense. And he told me pretty much what you said, bro, about you having trouble dealing with it that I had changed so much so fast. And I asked him to talk to you, and he said he would if I wanted, but that I shouldn’t, you know, underrate our friendship, and I could talk to you better than he could. And he was right.”

“Yeah,” agreed Chase. “He was right. I guess I do owe him a favor, then.”

“Yeah, bro,” I said, kissing Chase again lightly. “Anyway, it’d be great for you to talk to him sometime. He’s a great guy.”

“I’m sure he is, Jeremy. And maybe, maybe, if you value his opinion so much, I can persuade him to get you down to using ‘Bro’ every other sentence.” I pantomimed punching him in the arm and he laughed. “Sorry, Jeremy, but I couldn’t resist that one. It’s okay. But yeah, I’ll talk to him sometime, if it means that much to you.”

“It’s good to hear you laugh again, bro. I’ve missed that.” Then I kissed him again, and we got down to business for another round.

Chase ended up spending the night. It was pure ecstasy for us, because neither of us wanted to be away from the other. But the next morning, we had school, and the alarm was a rude awakening from our blissful night.

Chase said he felt great in the morning, but his voice was so hoarse he could barely talk above a whisper: “Jeremy,” Chase croaked, “I’m going to stink so bad at school. You think I have time for a shower?”

I kissed him again and said, “Don’t shower yet, babe. Please. You smell like me, and I want every guy at school to know you’re mine.”

Chase laughed, “Okay, Jeremy. I guess you marked me as your mate. Just for you, because I love you, I won’t shower until I get home tonight. Anything else you want?”

“Just one more thing, you ever worn a jock, babe? No, of course you haven’t. Here’s one of mine. I want you to wear it to school today.”

“Geez, Jeremy, I mean, that’s sweet, and a little gross, but how is one of your jockstraps going to fit me? It’ll be all stretched out from your monster cock and balls.”

“You’ll see,” I said. “Let me get it on you. You’d be surprised how well these things recover from being stretched out. If it won’t stay on you by itself right now, you just put a pair of briefs over it. Wait, I think I still have a few of my old ones that don’t fit me anymore.” So I positioned one of my used jockstraps over his package and then put a pair of my old briefs over it, and once I got in place, I said, “Now you’ll be able to feel that you’re mine all day long.”

“Ooh, that feels strange. Really strange. But it’s kind of nice. It makes me feel warm and tingly, all over. But I guess I’d better get dressed now.”

Chase kissed me again, and then he started pulling on his pants and shirt from last night. “That’s funny, Jeremy,” he whispered. “My pants are little tight.”

“Well, you’ve got a little extra material there now, bro. I’m sure your pants will stretch out a bit once you’ve had them on for a bit.”

We went to school together, but we didn’t have any classes together until after lunch, so I didn’t see him again until lunchtime. We ate lunch together. Chase was feeling fine, he said, but he was really hungry, and he got seconds, which he never did normally. He was clearing his throat a lot, and when he talked, his voice alternated between sounding hoarse and cracking. To me, his Adam’s apple already looked a little more prominent, but it could have been my imagination. He looked a little sweaty, too, but I said nothing about it.

“Jeremy,” he said, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying to get used to the jock smell, I really am, but I feel stinky and sweaty, and I’m really looking forward to a shower.”

“It’s okay, little bro. I just wanted to be sure you and everyone else knew you were mine.”

“Very cute, Jeremy. But I keep thinking your jock friends are staring at me.”

Chase had a point; some of them did seem to be staring, particularly James and Steve, who looked over several times.

“Don’t worry about my bros, babe,” I said. “No one’s going to mess with you now that you’re my boyfriend.”

But I was curious as to what James and Steve were talking about; they were clearly having a couple chat that no one else was in on.

After school, I had basketball practice. Before practice, I swung by Coach Sanders’s office to return the cup and thank him again. He was at his desk. I closed the door and said, “Coach, I wanted to thank you so much for helping me with Chase. I ended up not needing this, so I wanted to get it back to you.” I handed him the cup.

He said nothing until he had carefully put the cup back into the same file drawer he’d retrieved it from originally, and then he said, “So, big guy, how’d things go?”

“Awesomely. You were right about trusting our friendship, Coach. I think I’d been in love with him for a long time, and I told him so, and it turned out he was in love with me, too. Now we’re officially boyfriends, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“Love’s a powerful thing, Jeremy. I’m glad for you. So, Chase is dealing with your changes better now?”

“Definitely, Coach. And, if I’m right, he’ll probably be ready to talk to you about joining up in a week or two.”

The coach chuckled. “Big guy, if you were smiling any harder, I think your face would split. Okay, Jeremy, I can read between the lines. We’ll keep an eye on Chase and make sure he turns out all right.”

“Thanks, Coach. I owe you a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Jeremy. I owe you a lot, too.”

I didn’t see Chase again that night, but we texted. Other than his voice, he was feeling fine. The next morning at school, James lumbered up behind me, reached up, and clasped a meaty hand on my shoulder: “Sup, bro. Why don’t we take a walk to my office. It’s time for another counseling session.” He had one of those one-eyebrow-raised jock smirks on his face, so it was hard to tell if he was amused or irritated. I followed him to the most out-of-the way men’s room in the school. No one was inside.

“Haven’t been in here for a while. Brings back memories – sort of.” I looked at him, puzzled, and he sighed. “Never mind. It’s just that this place has seen a few interesting scenes in my life, bro, but that’s another story. If these walls could talk! I’m just glad I didn’t have to kick any nerds out of here this time. We need a little privacy.”

“What’s up, James? Why’d you bring me here? I’m confused.”

“You do seem to have that problem sometimes, bro. Were you a little dense before you changed, or did you lose a few IQ points in the process?  Anyway, the last time you and I talked, we were talking about your future. But you’re not a little bro anymore, not at all. You’ve turned out fine. No, it’s not your future I’m worried about. Steve-o and I noticed your little friend at lunch. What’s his name? Chase? So, what’s going on with your little friend, Chase, bro?”

“Something wrong with him, bro?” I asked, as innocently as I could.

“You do like to push your luck, don’t you? I’m still a lot bigger than you are. And, unlike some of our bros, I’m not stupid, and neither is Steve. I’m starting to suspect you’re not as dumb as you come off, either.”

“Your point, dude?”

“I’m getting there,” James continued with a glare. “Patience is a virtue, bro. I don’t know what all you know or may have heard about Steve and me and some of the stuff that used to go on around here. Let me just tell you that I have plenty of experience seeing nerds and geeks turn into jocks. I can recognize the signs sooner than most. Don’t hold out on me, bro. I’m not asking because I’m nosy. There might be more involved than you know about. So, give. What happened to Chase? Why is he starting to turn?”

“He’s my boyfriend, bro. That’s what happened. He and I had been in love since, like, forever, but he was having trouble with me being a jock. Anyway, we reconciled the night before last.”

James’s smirk deepened. “Oh, that’ll be fun. Too much fun. That is fucking awesome! I’ve got to say, bro, I suspected something like that. Look, it really wouldn’t be any of my business, except that I want to make sure your little bro Chase is okay. Protocol is, as you know, that we only hang around with other bros, so you and Chase were attracting some attention. You don’t need to give me a play-by-play, but he already looks like he’s turning fast. You did that just by making out with him?”

“Well, yeah, bro. I mean, we did it – a lot – that first night. And I did talk him into wearing one of my jockstraps. I think it helps. I, uh, wore that one of yours for over a week, I think.”

“Kind of hard to remember stuff from before, isn’t it bro?” said James softly. “It was Steve’s, by the way, not that it really matters. We knew it was Steve you really wanted to make out with. I don’t blame you; he is incredibly hot, after all. Look, bro, I know it doesn’t matter now, but you have to realize that we had no idea that making out with us was going to make you turn. We just wanted you to have some fun – and leave us alone.”

“Bro, seriously, it’s okay. I’m super happy with my life. I mean, I know I used to be different, but now I can’t really remember what I was like before. I mean, I remember my life and all the facts and all that, but I can’t remember what it felt like, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know, actually,” James said, almost in a whisper. “Your old life is like a dream you barely remember, and every day it fades a bit more, because you were always like this, and that dream, bro, it never happened.”

“Yeah, it’s exactly like that,” I said, excitedly. But James sighed; he was looking away from me toward his reflection in the mirror. His smirk was gone, and his face was utterly blank. I was a bit disconcerted, but I continued, “And Chase, well, I didn’t know what would happen, but I figured that, since we loved each other so much, it would turn out okay no matter what. But dude, we made out so many times that night, and by morning, I could already tell he was starting to change. So I figured, okay then, we’ll just be another hot jock couple like you and Steve.”

“Yeah, I suppose you will be at that, bro,” James said, his customary smirk pointed at me again. “Other people will start noticing soon. You’ll want to keep a close eye on him for now. And talk to one of the coaches, probably Sanders, the basketball coach. He was the one Derek talked to about you. Sanders was around when all this stuff started going on, and he must know something. I’ll bet Halvorson, the wrestling coach, does, too.  The football coach, you know, the new one, don’t go to him. He’s a great coach and all, but he doesn’t know anything about this kind of, um, special case.”

“All taken care of, bro. I had already talked to Coach Sanders about Chase, and I talked to him again yesterday before practice. He was the one who encouraged me to reconcile with Chase in the first place, and I’m glad I did.”

“Interesting, bro, very interesting. He actually encouraged you to reconcile with Chase? I’m surprised. Pleasantly, but surprised. I don’t know Coach Sanders, really. I’m not on the basketball team, and I’ve never really talked to him, but I’m glad he isn’t a homophobe. That was one of the problems with the old football coach. So, I’m assuming Coach Sanders must have some or all of the old football coach’s videos.”

“Yeah, bro, I watched one of those, and he said he had some of the old coach’s stuff, just not all of it. I asked him if the video would help Chase, and he told me it would, but I might need something special to help as well. But I ended up not needing it, so I gave it back to him.”

“Whoa, dude,” said James. “What the fuck! You don’t mean he actually still has…”  James leaned right into my face and whispered so softly I almost couldn’t hear him. “Does Sanders actually still have a cup? Is that what he gave you?”

“Yeah, bro, that’s what he gave me,” I whispered back.

I’d almost never seen James look anything but cocky, but whatever was going through his head had wiped the usual smirk off his face again. His eyes were as round as basketballs. “No shit,” he finally said, quietly. “Steve-o and I thought they were all long gone, along with the old football coach. And Sanders still has one?”

“Bro,” I whispered. “I know he told me not to talk about this at all, but I think he said they had very few left, so doesn’t that mean there must be more than one?”

“Holy shit,” said James. “Okay, bro, do not, I repeat, do not, say a word about any of this to anyone. Absolutely not. And don’t let on to Coach Sanders that you told me. The less you know about those things the better. Bro, I am so glad you didn’t have to use one of those on Chase. What you two did was a lot more fun, for you and for him, and if all goes well, little Chase will never know what hit him.” He paused. “We’re done with our discussion, bro, but, just out of curiosity, do you remember any of the video Coach Sanders had you watch?”

“Well, I remember that it was really good, and I enjoyed it, but no, I don’t honestly remember what it was about. Why?”

“Professional curiosity. I’m studying biology, not that I exactly bring that up at practice with the bros. But I’m curious about the process – if you follow me. I think, bro, that it’s not just one video that you watched. I think there’s more than one, and I’m not sure if we all see the same ones or not. But that’s just a feeling I have. I have zero evidence, and I can’t remember any more of the video than you do. I’ll be curious to find out if Chase remembers anything when his turn comes. Speaking of coming,” he said with a chuckle, “Make sure you get him to come as soon as you can, you know, after he’s done. It’ll help him finish adjusting. He’ll probably be super horny anyway, but it he’s not, get him horny, okay, bro?”

“Okay, bro,” I said with a grin. “That’ll be a pleasure. But what’s so bad about those cups, anyway?”

“Look, bro, forget about the cups. Just be very, very glad you never had to wear one. Trust me.” And with that he left.

To be continued

[marygillisapologist]

Longing for closure | Charles x F!Reader

Pairing: Charles Smith x F!Reader

WC: 1142, aprox. 5 minute read

Teaser: “For the best, I know, but. I just-” He looked remain before stepping closer, looking into your eyes. His presence was overwhelming, and your need for his company was immense. “Charles, I-” You protested, avoiding his gaze. “Please.” He pleaded, stroking his hand against your cheek, keeping it there.

Warnings: Fluff, very little mention of sexual interactions | Secret Relationship | Pining

A/N: This is my first time writing anything so I'm open to critique and will appreciate any form of interaction. ALSO- If you find any grammar mistakes please feel free to tell me, since English isn't my first language. Anyways, hope you enjoy <3

Even though these last few months had been miserable and full of loss, a blooming love had grown in the dying fields. Two strong individuals in need of comfort, finding it in each other at an all time low. While the remaining members of the gang were scrambling to find safety in Lakay, a heated exchange had taken place between you and Charles Smith. After months of pining and longing for each other, you’d finally confronted your feelings. His burly arms had held you close, as his lips were pressed against yours in need of love, in need of you.

Ever since then, you both had realized that you were each other's pillar, the ones who held each other up when the other was falling apart. You agreed that whatever happened, you’d stick together no matter what. However, for the both of yours safety, you agreed to keep it under wraps, not wanting your love to be used against you as it had with John and Abigail. The only few people who actually knew, were the ones paying close attention. Someone like Ms. Grimshaw, most of the women and even Arthur caught on pretty quickly, while the rest never really did. You were happy in his presence, happy to have a safe haven to return when all hell broke loose.

As the days went by and more tragedy occurred. All this death and misery had been piling for months, and for what? For no reason, at least in the eyes of Charles. He was losing hope, and also a close friend of his. Arthur was dying, and with him so was the gang. He was the right hand man, the one with the most common sense out of all of these people- besides you of course. This made Dutch question his ability to advise him, instead seeking the advice of Micah. The Van Der Linde gang had turned a new leaf, one that had fallen and withered.

Charles was on thin ice. 

Charles hated every moment of suppressing his feelings for you regardless of it being for the best. Even though the both of you had agreed to it, he still couldn’t help but feel guilt for not giving you the love and solace you craved. As he and Arthur rode back to camp from a visit at the Wapiti Tribe, noise of quarreling and accusing got louder and louder. He couldn’t help the pit in his stomach form, as he saw you walk back from the river with fresh laundry, your face carrying a slight frown and furrowed brows. 

“You alright there Charles?” Arthur asked with a cough as the horses went from trotting to walking. 

“Yeah, I’m good. How about you?” Charles asked concerned, while his gaze stayed on you. 

“I reckon I don’t matter too much no more.” Arthur chuckled.

“But you sure you’re doin’ alright? You seem a bit distraught.” He questioned as they arrived at the hitching posts.

“Yeah, I’m sure… I’ll see you around” Before Arthur knew it, Charles had already hitched his horse and headed your direction before Arthur had even left the saddle.

You stood to the side hanging the laundry you’d just washed down by the river, trying to mute the sound of Dutch’ preaching. Tension had been at an all time high, causing you to overwork yourself with chores to distract yourself from your misery. This had ultimately also caused multiple people to leave, making you wonder what was making you stay. Was it loyalty, company or fear of a civil life, when this was the one you’d grown used to for the last couple of years? 

For the first time since joining the gang, you were exhausted, an overwhelming nausea at the thought of things coming to an end. Dutch wasn’t the same heroic individual who’d saved you from a group of greedy men. No he was much different. So different, that if it had happened on this day, then it more than likely would’ve been your last.

Lost in your train of thoughts, you heard your name. Quickly you laid down whatever article of clothing you had and turned around towards the noise.

“Charles. You're back.” You said as your eyes brightened and your smile widening, about to go in for a greeting kiss. He smiled back softly before looking down into the ground about to give in before the sound of arguing in the back reminded you of where you were. 

“Right, my bad.” You smiled softly, eyes filled with disappointment as you stepped back. “You um… Is everything alright, are you alright?” You asked, wanting to make sure he was doing as good as one could in the current state of things. 

He stood there looking into your eyes for a little before answering.

“Yeah I’m-” He stopped himself, fiddling with fingers as he thought of what he was gonna say next.

He took a deep breath before continuing, saying your name lowly.

“I’m not sure I can handle this much longer.”

You looked at him, your brows furrowing as you bit the inside of your cheek. You know exactly what he meant, as you felt the same.

“I know, but it’s-” You responded, trying to stay logical for the both of you.

“For the best, I know, but. I just-” He looked remain before stepping closer, looking into your eyes.

His presence was overwhelming, and your need for his company was immense.

“Charles, I-” You protested, avoiding his gaze.

“Please.” He pleaded, stroking his hand against your cheek, keeping it there.

A few moments went by, no words said out loud, yet his and your needs were heard and finally acted upon. You place your hand on his cheek, stroking it before leaning in to kiss him. You directed his hand to your other cheek before letting go, pulling him closer by his collar. Your face in his hand and your arms wrapping around his neck, you hadn’t gotten this close in a while, too busy working.

His lips stayed on yours for what seemed like forever, before he broke it, placing his forehead on yours as the both of you were quietly panting. He smiled at you, and you smiled at him. His eyes were filled with admiration, as was yours, it was a beautiful moment.

“I love you.” He smiled, pecking the corner of your lips. You looked up at him, your eyes watering at the sound of his confession. One that none of them had made before, but had always known to be true.

“I love you too, Charles.” You grinned in response before leaning into another deep kiss.

Maybe hiding from each other wasn't for the best, and maybe closure had been this whole time. Regardless, your hope for the future had been restored. You both knew it would be with each other.

BONUS - Arthurs Journal Entry

Charles and I went to talk to Rains Falls about Dutch and his unhinged decision making. It ain’t looking too good, but we promised to keep a good eye on him.

Anyway, Charles seemed distracted when we went out. I didn’t know exactly why, but I had an idea. He seemed in a hurry when we got back and finally kissed her. He’s been head over heels for that girl ever since he joined us back up in the Grizzlies last year, pretty sure it went both ways. 

They remind me of Mary and I, how we kept it secret too before she left me. I was too stubborn to change my ways, I guess. I wonder if things would’ve changed if I’d ran away with her back in Saint Denis or Valentine. It’s too late now, she mailed me the ring I gave her all those years ago. What a couple of fools in love we were. 

I’m just happy that they aren’t fools like us, and that Charles won’t cower away because of some code that turns out to be irrelevant by the likes of Dutch. I’m also happy that I finally stopped hiding. They seemed real happy when they stopped worrying so much about the rest. I saw Susan and a couple others smile too, they probably noticed the lingering before too. Not everyone had though, Dutch looked quite surprised, almost threatened. I wonder what he and Micah are up to now.

Hope you liked it! BTW pls feel free to give requests, I love writing from given prompts <33