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followyourfleart · 2 days ago

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To Be Warm Again

blurb - Joel knows you deserve better. A closed-off, stubborn, fifty-eight-year-old man is the last thing you need. But when you’re this close to slipping through his fingers for good, he can’t bring himself to let you go—not when holding on feels like the only thing he still knows how to do.

warnings - nsfw, mdni 18+, jealous, yearning, second chance romance, love birds, hurt, angst, relationship help, happy ending, insecure!JoelMiller, oldman!JoelMiller, Jackson!JoelMiller, implied age gap, some plot before the porn, emotional sex, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, SPITTING (hey we're the freaks tonight), face fucking, creampies (don't try this at home!).

One shot requested by: @ anyomous

wc: 10.1 k

Joel didn’t want to be here.

Didn’t want to sit at this goddamn table in this goddamn bar, pretending he gave half a shit about whatever livestock report Tommy was tryin’ to show him. Didn’t want to make small talk with Maria, who kept giving him those sideways glances like she was bracing for a storm.

And he sure as hell didn’t want to look across the room again.

But he did.

Every few seconds.

Like a fucking compulsion.

There you were. Sitting at the end of the bar. Back straight, drink in hand. Your laugh was softer than usual—he could only hear it in flashes—but it still hit him like a punch to the gut.

The man beside you? He was new. Joel had seen him around, helping out with the fencing crew. Young. Maybe thirty. No older than thirty-five. Sharp jaw, easy grin. The kind of guy who didn’t creak when he stood up. The kind of guy who could keep up with someone like you.

You were smiling.

Not the way you used to—not that quiet, tired smile you saved for Joel when you were curled up in bed, wearing one of his shirts and tracing old scars on his chest with your fingertip—but still. It was real.

You were smiling.

And it wasn’t for him.

Joel’s jaw flexed. He took another drink, fingers clenched so tight around the glass that the joints ached.

“Joel,” Tommy said cautiously. “You okay, man?”

He didn’t look at him.

Didn’t trust himself to.

Maria shifted in her seat beside Tommy, hands laced neatly on the table, watching Joel with those calm, sharp eyes that always saw more than they let on.

“We can go,” she offered gently. “You don’t have to sit here and torture yourself.”

“I ain’t torturin’ nobody,” Joel muttered, staring down into the amber swirl in his glass.

“Right,” Tommy said. “That’s why you’ve been starin’ holes through the side of her head since we walked in.”

Joel didn’t answer. Just rolled his shoulders, tried to act casual. Failed.

Because the truth was, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

Not since the moment he saw you walk in.

Hair brushed and curled, your favorite sweater hanging soft off one shoulder. Lip gloss catching the light. You didn’t look like someone trying to prove a point—you didn’t look like you were out to make anyone jealous.

You looked like you were trying to feel normal again.

And that cut deeper than anything.

Because Joel had spent years convincing himself he was the one who knew how to keep you safe. How to make you feel steady. Loved. Even if he never said it aloud, never gave you the words.

Even if he kept his past locked up behind his ribs and only ever let you peek at it in pieces.

He thought it’d be enough.

But it wasn’t.

You left.

And you didn’t slam the door. Didn’t scream. Didn’t throw a single fucking thing. You just… packed a bag, folded one of his shirts, and said I can’t keep giving you everything and getting silence in return.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t say what he should’ve said.

Didn’t say Don’t go.

Didn’t say I need you.

Didn’t say I love you.

Because he thought he had time. Thought you’d cool off. Thought you’d come back.

But here you were. With someone else.

And Joel had never felt older in his life.

His knuckles were swollen from last week’s patrol. His back ached from the cold front. There were lines on his face he hadn’t noticed before, deepening around his eyes and mouth like time had finally caught up.

What the hell did he have to offer you anymore?

What could he give you now, at fifty-fucking-eight, that you didn’t already deserve from someone younger? Someone untouched by twenty years of blood and grief and failure?

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, suddenly too warm in his coat, suddenly too loud in his head.

“I shoulda said somethin’,” he mumbled. Barely audible.

Tommy raised a brow. “What?”

“I shoulda—” Joel cut himself off. Exhaled hard through his nose. “Never mind.”

Maria leaned in, voice low. “It’s not too late, Joel.”

He shook his head.

“It is,” he said. “She’s movin’ on.”

Tommy sighed. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just tryin’ to remember what it’s like to feel somethin’. After you spent months makin’ her feel invisible.”

That one landed.

Joel flinched. Visibly.

He deserved it.

He knew it.

But the truth was—he didn’t make you feel invisible because he stopped loving you.

He did it because he loved you too fucking much.

Because loving you meant dragging you into all the wreckage of his life. It meant you knowing how deep the damage went. How fucked up he really was underneath the surface. And he’d spent so long building walls, burying things—Sarah, Tess, everything in between—that letting you in felt like peeling his skin off.

But you’d already seen him, hadn’t you?

You saw every goddamn thing. And you stayed.

He had just forced your hands until you couldn’t stay.

And he let you go anyway.

Now here you were.

And that man beside you? He leaned in to say something. You smiled. Shook your head. Looked down at your drink, then back up at him with a softness that wasn’t flirtation, not yet, but it could be.

It could become something.

Joel swallowed hard.

He needed something stronger.

The bourbon wasn’t cutting it. Not tonight.

Not with that man’s hand still resting a little too close to yours. Not with your laughter trailing through the bar like a ghost he couldn’t catch. Not with every goddamn ache in his body echoing the one in his chest.

Joel pushed up from the table, muttering something half-formed to Tommy, who just gave him a look. One of those you sure you’re alright? looks that Joel didn’t want to deal with right now.

Maria said something too, something soft, but he didn’t catch it.

Didn’t care.

He moved through the crowd like a man with a mission. Eyes forward. Shoulders tight. His boots thudding against the floor louder than they needed to. He kept his jaw clenched the whole way to the bar, biting down the burn rising in his throat.

He wasn’t drunk. Not yet. But he wanted to be.

Not sloppy. Not out-of-control.

Just… numb.

He flagged down the bartender with a lift of two fingers.

“Something rough,” he said gruffly. “Whatever’s got the most bite.”

The man behind the bar nodded and poured something dark amber into a glass that looked too clean. Joel wrapped his hand around it, let the chill seep into his palm.

He didn’t drink it. Not yet.

Just stared at it, watching the way the light fractured through the liquor. The way the ice cracked against the sides. It reminded him of tension—of pressure building until it finally snapped.

He was so tired of pretending this didn’t hurt.

So damn tired of holding it all in.

And then—

A tap.

Faint.

Right on his shoulder.

He turned sharply, half-expecting some drunk asshole wanting to start something. Maybe the guy you were talking to—hell, maybe Tommy, coming to drag him home before he embarrassed himself.

He opened his mouth to growl something ugly—

He stopped cold.

You.

You were standing there, looking up at him like you hadn’t just shattered his entire evening. Like you hadn’t carved him open just by walking into the same room.

Your eyes were soft. Cautious.

Like you were bracing for the wreckage too.

Joel’s spine went stiff. His mouth opened, then closed. His first instinct—to glare, to cover the bleeding with anger—flickered and died the second you tilted your head.

“Hey,” you said gently, barely audible over the buzz of the bar. “Can we talk?”

He blinked.

His throat worked around a knot that hadn’t been there a second ago. Talk? Here? With him?

You gestured vaguely toward the back of the room, where a few couples were swaying in the open space cleared for dancing. The music was slower now—some old Willie Nelson track playing softly on the speakers. You looked like you weren’t sure what to do with your hands. One of them lifted. Reached for him.

Not quite touching.

Not until he nodded.

“…Sure.”

The word felt jagged in his throat. He downed his drink in one brutal motion—felt the liquor burn down to his ribs. It wasn’t courage. Not really. But it was something. Something to help hold back the goddamn shake in his hands when you stepped closer.

You reached for his hand.

And Joel, without thinking, gave it to you.

His fingers closed around yours instinctively, like they remembered this. Like they’d been aching for this. You turned, tugged gently, guiding him through the bar. He followed.

And it was so easy.

Too easy.

That’s what scared him.

Because this—your fingers threaded with his, the scent of your shampoo drifting back as you walked ahead of him, your thumb brushing once against the side of his hand—this felt like home.

And home wasn’t something Joel had let himself believe in for a long damn time.

Not until you.

The dance floor was dim. Sparse. Only a few couples moving in lazy circles under the fairy lights strung up overhead. Your steps slowed. You turned to face him, your expression unreadable. Something sad flickered in your eyes, but you didn’t speak right away.

Instead, you pulled him a little closer.

Joel stared at you.

Then at your hand.

Then back up.

“You wanna dance?” he asked quietly, unsure, half-hoping he’d misread this whole thing.

You didn’t answer his question with words.

You just stepped in close.

And slowly—tentatively—you lifted your arms and draped them over his shoulders, like you’d done a hundred times before, in moments far easier than this one. Joel’s hands hovered awkwardly in the space between you for a second too long before they found their way to your waist. The fit was still there. Muscle memory. His palms curved around you like they remembered every inch.

You started to sway.

No rhythm. No flourish.

Just… movement. Just closeness.

The kind that ached.

Joel exhaled, slow and quiet. His forehead didn’t quite touch yours, but you were close enough that your breath ghosted across his chin when you spoke.

“I need to get my stuff back.”

It wasn’t angry. Wasn’t even cold.

Just a fact.

Something real to ground all this softness.

Joel’s grip tensed, just slightly. A beat passed. Then another.

“Yeah,” he muttered, eyes unfocused. “’Course. Figured you’d ask.”

You didn’t say anything.

Joel tried to hide the way his throat worked around the words he wanted to say.

The way his chest tightened at the thought of your toothbrush still tucked in the bathroom drawer. Your sweater draped over the back of the chair by the window. That dumb mug with the cracked handle you always reached for first. Your handwriting on the notepad by the fridge, where you’d scribbled half a shopping list before storming out five weeks ago.

He’d left it there.

Still did.

Your stuff was everywhere.

It wasn’t just stuff. Not really.

It was the only proof he’d managed to build something with warmth.

And now you wanted it back.

Joel cleared his throat.

“I can drop it off,” he said. “If you want. Save you the walk.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. Not all the way—just enough for your gaze to meet his. Joel hated the way his stomach dropped when he saw the flicker of sadness in your eyes.

“Or I can leave it on the porch,” he added quickly, like he didn’t care. “Whatever’s easier.”

You didn’t answer right away.

You just looked at him.

Like you saw through every defense he was scrambling to raise.

“Joel,” you said softly. “How are you?”

He blinked. Pulled his gaze away. Let it drift over your shoulder, toward the corner of the room where the shadows were quieter.

“I’m fine.”

He said it too fast.

Too clipped.

You didn’t buy it. He knew you wouldn’t.

You always had a way of getting him to drop the act.

You leaned in a little closer, your arms shifting slightly around his neck. “That’s not what I asked.”

He closed his eyes.

Just for a second.

Because he was so goddamn tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of swallowing everything that should’ve been said when it mattered.

His hands tightened gently on your waist. Not pulling. Not holding on. Just… needing.

“How am I?” he echoed quietly. “I wake up, and your shoes are still by the door. That sweater you always wear when you're cold—it’s still hangin’ on the back of the chair like you’re gonna come grab it in the mornin’. I make coffee and pour too much ‘cause I forget you ain’t there to drink it.”

You blinked hard.

Joel looked down at you again. There was no anger in his face. No heat.

Just exhaustion.

And grief.

He paused. His voice dropped to something near a whisper.

“I left your favorite vinyl on the turntable the other day. Just… forgot to change it.”

Your eyes shimmered in the low light. You didn’t interrupt. Didn’t say I’m sorry. You didn’t owe him that. You didn’t owe him anything anymore.

Joel swallowed hard.

“I’m not great,” he admitted, finally. “That’s how I am. I’m not great.”

The silence between you pressed in heavy. Not suffocating, but weighty. Like truth always was.

You shifted your arms, one hand rising to thread your fingers into the back of his hair. Joel closed his eyes at the contact. His grip stayed steady at your waist, but he swore he felt his legs go weak.

“I’m not great either,” you said softly. “Thought I would be.”

Joel gave a breathy laugh through his nose. “You seemed happy earlier.”

“I was trying,” you admitted. “I was pretending I didn’t still feel you in every room.”

Joel’s eyes opened slowly.

Met yours.

And there it was—that thing he thought he’d lost. That unspoken current. The pulse of something still alive between you, flickering just beneath the surface.

You swayed in silence again.

Neither of you said a word.

The music faded into the background, just soft enough not to matter. Just enough to give the illusion of rhythm while you swayed together in the quiet middle of a too-loud room.

Joel leaned in, forehead brushing against yours. Barely there. But it felt like too much and not enough all at once.

You smelled the same.

Like soap and skin and something faintly sweet—something that lived in your sweaters and in his sheets. Something he hadn’t been able to scrub out no matter how many nights he’d tried to sleep alone.

Five weeks.

Five fucking weeks.

It didn’t sound like much. Not in the grand scheme. He’d gone longer without food. Without rest. Without safety. But this?

This was something else entirely.

And for a second…

God.

For a second, he let himself pretend you were still his.

That you’d be there in the morning. That when he turned over in bed, he’d feel your bare thigh brushing his, your palm resting lightly on his chest, your breath rising and falling in that easy rhythm he used to memorize.

He missed waking up to you.

He missed the sound of your yawn when you stretched beside him. The way your hand always found his under the covers, cold and shameless, like you knew he’d warm them for you.

He missed the shuffle of your slippers down the hall. The smell of toast. That little click of your coffee mug against the counter.

He used to grumble, pretend he hated it when you cooked breakfast like he couldn’t do it himself.

But he fucking loved it.

You’d hand him a plate with that quiet smirk, always fussing—“Eat it before it gets cold, Miller”—and he’d do exactly that. Because it tasted like care. Like you loved him even when he didn’t ask for it.

He missed coming back from patrol and finding you stretched out on the couch in one of his flannels, legs bare, book cracked open on your chest, a throw blanket half-falling to the floor.

You’d look up when he walked in, and there’d be this softness in your eyes. This quiet little smile, like there you are, like the whole day had been waiting for him.

He missed that look.

Missed you tossing your book aside just to sit beside him, curl up under his arm, legs thrown over his lap like you belonged there.

You did belong there.

He missed passing the bathroom after a shower and catching the scent of your soap in the steam. That faint citrus smell. The one that lingered on his pillows. On his shirts. On his goddamn skin.

He hadn’t smelled it in days.

He left the bar of it sitting in the shower anyway. Stupid hope.

Like maybe if he didn’t move it, you’d walk in again. Humming. Smiling. Telling him to get out 'cause you needed the mirror.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips a little tighter.

He swallowed hard.

And then—God help him—his thoughts slipped lower.

Because it wasn’t just the comfort. Not just the routines. Not just the domestic quiet you brought into his chaos.

It was the heat of you.

The need.

He missed the feel of your hands on his chest, tugging his shirt off impatiently. The way your mouth dragged across his jaw with purpose. Like you knew exactly what he needed and weren’t shy about giving it.

You were never shy with him.

Not once.

He missed you pulling him in with a handful of his belt, whispering against his mouth, Come on, baby, take care of me, like you weren’t the one unraveling him.

He missed the way you straddled him on the couch, kissed him deep and slow while your fingers dragged down his stomach. How you’d rock your hips against his, lazy and teasing, like you had all the time in the world to ruin him.

He missed how you bit him when you came.

Soft, quick, right against his shoulder.

Like a secret you couldn’t keep.

Joel breathed out slowly through his nose, trying to steady himself.

But it didn’t work.

Because you shifted against him then. Innocent. Barely a move. But enough to bring your chest flush against his, enough for your fingers to tangle a little deeper into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You were warm.

So fucking warm.

And soft.

And his whole body was screaming for more.

He missed your thighs clenching around his hips as he buried himself inside you. The way your breath hitched when he pressed deeper. Slower. When he held your wrists above your head and whispered all the filthy things he’d never say anywhere else.

He missed the mess of it.

The sweat. The gritted teeth. The way you’d cry out his name like it meant something. Like you trusted him to break you apart and put you back together again.

He missed your skin. The taste of it. The scent of you in his sheets. The way you said Joel like a fucking prayer when he brought you over that edge again and again and again—

He missed being needed.

Physically. Completely.

He missed being yours.

Not just in the daylight. Not just in casual moments or shared coffee or post-patrol silence.

He missed being the man you reached for at night, when you were desperate and aching and honest in a way the sun never got to see.

Joel opened his eyes.

And you were right there.

You were still swaying with him.

Still close.

Still holding onto him like this moment mattered. Like it meant something. Joel could feel your breath against his throat, warm and even. You hadn’t spoken. Neither had he. And part of him wanted to stay in this silence forever.

But it wasn’t real.

It was borrowed time.

And he couldn’t keep pretending.

Not with you so close.

Not with the memory of your smile already fading from his house, from his mornings, from the quiet in the shower.

So he forced himself to speak. Quiet. Raw.

“I won’t stop you,” he murmured, barely louder than the hum of the song.

You blinked.

Pulled your head back just slightly, brows drawn.

“What?”

“If you wanna go.” He swallowed hard. “If you wanna be with that guy—”

“Joel—”

“—I get it,” he cut in. Not harsh. Just final. “You should. He’s younger. Smoother. Probably better at sayin’ all the right things. Probably ain’t spendin’ half a day tryin’ to get up from a chair.”

You stared up at him, clearly not amused by his joke. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Joel’s heart ached.

“And if that’s what you want,” he said softly, “I’ll wish you the best with it. With everythin’.”

You shook your head, once. Like you didn’t understand.

Joel held your gaze.

“I mean that. I’ll always be your biggest supporter. Even if I ain’t the one beside you anymore.”

Your breath hitched.

The tears came fast.

You let go of him like you’d been burned.

Took a full step back. Then another. Shook your head again, more violently now.

“Stop—” you choked, voice cracking. “Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that.”

Joel’s throat closed. But he couldn’t take it back.

You looked down at the floor like it hurt to meet his eyes.

And then, just like that, you turned.

You pushed through the crowd with both hands, shoving someone out of the way, rushing for the back doors like you couldn’t breathe. Joel’s stomach twisted.

He stood frozen for half a second too long.

Then he moved.

The air outside hit him like a slap.

It was cold. Windy. Crisp.

You were standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around yourself, back to him, shoulders trembling.

He could hear the sharpness of your breathing—hiccuped, fractured, like you were trying not to fall apart again.

“Hey—” Joel called softly. “Wait.”

You didn’t turn.

Didn’t speak.

Joel stepped closer, slow.

“Just—let me say this,” he said. “Please.”

You finally turned. Tears were streaked down your face. Your eyes were red. You looked like you hated him and missed him all at once.

“You always do this,” you whispered. “Every time. When it gets hard, you freeze up. You disappear. You shut down and I’m left talking to a fucking brick wall.”

“I know,” Joel said. Quiet. Barely there.

“You don’t fight for me,” you said, voice cracking again. “You never fight for me. And now you’re telling me to go be with someone else—like that’s what I want? Like I left you because I didn’t love you?”

Joel shook his head. “That’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean, Joel?” you snapped. “Because it sure sounded like you were giving me permission to leave like it doesn’t matter. Like we don’t matter.”

He was breathing hard now.

“I meant I want you to be happy,” he rasped. “Even if it kills me.”

You blinked.

Hard.

Joel took another step closer.

“I didn’t know how to love you right. I never got it right. But God—darlin’, I love you.”

You didn’t answer. Just stood there, trembling, tears tracking down your cheeks like you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

Joel didn’t know what to do with his hands. His chest ached like a bruise, sharp and sore and tender all at once. He reached for you, slow, cautious—his arms wide like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched you too fast.

But before he could pull you in—

You grabbed him.

Fisted your hands in the front of his jacket.

And kissed him.

Hard.

Messy.

Desperate.

Joel froze for half a second. Shocked. Breath stolen clean from his lungs.

And then—

Goddamn.

He kissed you back like a starving man.

Like he hadn’t tasted anything real in five whole weeks.

His hands flew to your face first, palms cradling your jaw with a tenderness that didn’t match the pace of his mouth—rough, hungry, grateful. Then they dropped, skimming your waist, your ribs, your back. Like he needed to touch every part of you to make sure you were real.

You gasped against him, lips slipping, teeth clashing just slightly. Joel groaned—deep—from his chest, like something inside him had just cracked under the weight of everything he’d been holding in.

The kiss broke for a second—barely.

You caught your breath.

Then grabbed him again.

You didn’t speak with your mouth. You poured it into him—every ounce of pain and love and fury and longing you’d been biting back since the night you left.

Joel didn’t care who saw.

Didn’t care who was still in the bar, or if Tommy looked out the window, or if Maria came after you.

None of it mattered.

Not when your mouth was on his like this. Not when your hands slid under his coat, under his shirt, gripping his waist like you never wanted to let go again.

He pressed you back against the side of the building, brick cold under your spine, his body flush against yours. His hands roamed like he’d earned it. Like he needed to feel you again, every inch, before it all disappeared.

You broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against his lips.

“Take me to our home.”

Joel’s chest clenched.

Not a home.

Not your home.

Just ours.

His.

Yours.

Ours.

Something hot twisted in his gut. He buried his face in your neck, breath shaky, lips brushing the skin just beneath your jaw.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and wrecked and so goddamn soft.

You nodded, nose brushing his. “Joel. Please.”

That was all he needed.

He didn’t wait.

Didn’t think.

He just took your hand, gripped it tight, and started walking.

The streets of Jackson were still.

Quiet. Cold. Empty.

Winter was still holding on by its teeth—frost clung to the edges of porch steps, old snow gathered in shadowed corners of roofs and fences. The moon was low and yellow, clouds creeping over it slow like they didn’t want to interrupt.

But Joel didn’t notice any of it.

All he could feel was your hand in his.

Still there.

Still warm.

Still real.

He didn’t look back at you—not directly.

Not yet.

He glanced, sideways, just enough to watch the shape of you in the corner of his vision, like if he turned too fully, the spell would break. Like if he looked too hard, you’d vanish all over again.

It felt like a dream.

No, not a dream.

A story.

Something ancient. Mythic.

Like he were Orpheus, and he was walking you out of the underworld. Back to him.

Except this time—he wouldn’t look back. Wouldn’t ruin it.

Your fingers stayed locked in his, tight but calm. You didn’t speak, and neither did he. The silence wasn’t heavy. It was sacred. Like everything unspoken was too delicate to be named just yet.

He was scared.

Not of you.

Not of the cold.

But of what came next.

Scared of what he might say when the door closed behind you.

Scared of what you might see when you stepped inside and realized—nothing had changed.

He hadn’t moved your book off the coffee table. Hadn’t folded the blanket you always used. Your mug was still beside the sink. He didn’t touch the turntable. Didn’t fix the curtain you always claimed was crooked in the bedroom.

He hadn’t let himself forget.

Not a single goddamn thing.

When you reached the porch, Joel fumbled for the key.

The lock stuck—like it always did—and his fingers were stiff from the cold, from nerves, from you.

And then he opened the door.

Let you step in first.

He followed, closing it gently behind him.

And then… you stood there.

In the soft dark of his home.

Your home.

Your eyes moved slowly.

He could feel it—your gaze drifting across the living room, catching on the blanket you left draped on the arm of the couch. The open book Joel had kept exactly where you left it. The throw pillow you always used, still shaped to your body like it remembered better than he did.

He stood behind you awkwardly.

Cleared his throat.

“I, uh…” His voice cracked. He tried again. “I can make you coffee. If you want. I know it’s late but—”

But you were already turning.

Already closing the space between you with three sharp steps.

And before he could finish the offer, you were on him.

You gripped his shirt in both hands and crashed your mouth to his like you were making up for all the time lost in the silence.

Joel reeled.

He gasped against your mouth, caught off guard—but only for a second.

Then instinct took over.

He kissed you back hard. Messy. Like he needed to taste every second of the last five weeks he’d spent alone.

Your hands were greedy, tugging his shirt free from his jeans, palms sliding underneath to find his skin. He groaned—loudly—into your mouth, arms locking around you, pressing you into him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space.

Your coat hit the floor with a thump, and his followed soon after. You both knew what the other craved.

Your lips moved down his neck, open-mouthed and reckless.

Joel swore under his breath. “Shit, baby—”

Your teeth scraped his pulse point and he hissed.

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

The adrenaline, the grief, the relief—it all crashed together like a wave breaking in his chest.

“I missed you,” you breathed against his skin. “I missed you so much.”

Joel’s hands were everywhere—your back, your waist, the curve of your ass, your thighs, your jaw. He couldn’t decide what to touch first. Couldn’t hold enough of you, not all at once.

He wanted you in his arms. In his bed. In his house.

Where you fucking belonged.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair wild from his hands. And Joel?

He stared at you like you were the only goddamn thing in the world that ever made sense.

He didn’t let you walk.

He couldn’t.

You were back in his arms, and Joel Miller was not taking a single goddamn risk.

He carried you to the bedroom like something precious. Sacred. Like if he set you down too soon, the moment would vanish—just another dream he’d wake from, soaked in sweat and aching with loss.

Your arms were around his neck. Legs around his waist. Mouth on his jaw, his neck, the hinge of his throat. Joel groaned every time your lips brushed skin. He was hard already. Had been from the moment you kissed him outside the bar. But he ignored it. He could wait. He would wait.

He stepped into the room and kicked the door shut behind him with his boot.

You looked at him like he was everything.

Like home.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed with careful hands, just for a second. You started to reach for his belt, desperate, and Joel caught your wrists again—not rough, not punishing. Just still.

“Slow,” he rasped. “Let me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and breathless. You nodded.

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for five weeks.

Then he knelt in front of you. Not to tease. Not to play.

To worship.

His hands came to your ankles first, callused thumbs brushing just under the hem of your pants.

“You’re shakin’ already,” he murmured. “Missed me that much, huh?”

You gave him this broken smile. “Joel—”

He slid his hands up your calves, your thighs, slow and sure.

“I know,” he said. “I missed you too.”

He leaned forward and kissed your knee.

Then your inner thigh.

“You been thinkin’ about this?” he asked, voice low and rough. “’Bout me undressin’ you like this? Slow?”

You swallowed hard. “Every night.”

Joel smirked. “Yeah? Bet you touched yourself. Got all needy in that big ol’ empty bed.”

Your breath hitched.

“Thought about me,” he said, dragging your pants down inch by inch, pressing a kiss to every new strip of skin. “Thought about my hands on you. Mouth on you. My cock inside you—deep. Slow.”

You moaned—loud and broken—and Joel’s chest ached with it as he tossed your pants over his shoulders.

“God, I missed that sound,” he growled. “You sound like heaven when you want me.”

You took off your own shirt and bra. God, those breasts. He loved them. Beautiful and tight. Another classic example of you. He stood, hooked his thumbs in your waistband, and pulled your underwear down next. You lifted your hips willingly.

He didn’t look away—not once—as you were revealed to him again. And fuck—his knees almost gave out.

Pretty. Pink. Folds swollen and wet to the point that he knew you would be embarrassed about it. But never him. He loved how messy you got when you wanted something, like your body was speaking for you when your mouth clamped shut.

He stared up at you from below, chest heaving, eyes dark with something deeper than lust. Something older. More carved in. More earned.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous like this. Laid out for me. All soft and warm and—mine.”

Your breath caught.

Your thighs trembled.

He kissed your inner knee, the inside of your thigh. His hands rubbed up and down your calves, your hips, his thumbs digging into the softness like he was grounding himself.

“I missed this more than I missed anythin’,” he rasped. “This right here—” he kissed the crease where thigh met hip, “—was all I thought about. Woke up some nights with your name in my mouth and nothin’ but air in my fuckin’ bed.”

You whimpered.

Joel leaned in, closer. He kissed lower.

And then—

He devoured.

There was no preamble. No soft, lingering kiss meant to ease you in.

No, this was hunger. This was over a month of tension, weeks of near-misses, days of unsaid things and glances that scorched.

His mouth met your cunt like it belonged there. Like he’d been born for this, for you. His tongue parted you, slow at first, just to taste. Just to sample the mess you’d already made for him. But then—

Then he groaned. Low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest like thunder.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel muttered, voice rasped and reverent, breath hot against your folds. “You taste better than I remembered. Sweet fuckin’ heaven.”

Your thighs twitched at the sound, at the praise, at the pressure of his tongue licking a long, deliberate stripe right through your center.

You cried out—sharp and breathless—your hips jolting off the mattress. And he grinned against you. Like the bastard he was.

His hips jolted forward against nothing, instinctively, like his whole body couldn’t take being this close to you without burying himself inside.

“Fuck,” he growled, lips still brushing your soaked skin. “She’s drippin’ for me already. Look at her, baby. So fuckin’ wet.”

Your thighs twitched at the sound of it. The way he said it.

“You miss this?” he rasped, voice low and dangerous, eyes locked between your legs. “Missed my mouth on her? On this sweet little pussy?”

“Y-Yes,” you gasped, breathless. “God—Joel—yes—”

He chuckled darkly. “Thought so.”

Then he sucked your clit between his lips—slow at first. He knew exactly what to do, knew exactly what made your voice catch. Then harder. Focused.

Tongue flicking over you in tight, calculated strokes until your back arched and your hand flew to his hair, fisting tight.

You weren’t quiet.

You couldn’t be.

The noises—your moans, the wet suck of his mouth, the low sounds he kept making like he was drinking you in—filled the room like heat.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Joel muttered. “She’s so goddamn soft. So sweet. You feel that?” His voice rumbled against your clit as he flattened his tongue and dragged it up through your folds. “That’s what I missed. The way she opens up for me. So greedy.”

You whined—broken and desperate—grinding your hips against his face.

He didn’t stop you.

He loved it.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, licking into your entrance, tongue fucking shallow and slow. “Use me, baby. Rub her all over my face. I can take it. I need it.”

“Joel—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Nah.”

Joel’s voice came from low in his chest, ragged and breathless. He pulled back just an inch, his mouth flushed and glistening, his eyes wild.

“Not yet,” he said again. “Don’t come yet. She ain’t done with me, is she?”

You barely shook your head. Couldn’t even speak—

Not before he fucking spit.

It landed right on your clit—hot and thick—and he watched it hit like it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. You jolted, crying out, already grinding into the air—

And then he licked it up.

Groaning as he did, slow and deep, mouth dragging through every soaked inch.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, thumb spreading you open wider. “Look at her. So wet she’s fuckin’ shinin’ for me.”

He spit again. Lazily this time. Watching it trail through your folds, mix with everything else he’d already coaxed out of you.

“Joel— your mouth,” you gasped, trembling beneath him. “God— I can’t fucking think when your mouth’s on me.”

Joel looked up at you, pupils blown, face shining. “Then don’t. Let her do the thinkin’.”

You moaned loud and shameless. “She’s not the one begging. I am.”

Joel grinned, tongue flicking out to catch the mess before it could drip too far. “That right? Then tell me. What do you want?”

“I want more,” you said, voice wrecked. “I want every bit of you. Tongue, fingers, cock—all of it.”

He growled, face diving back in like you’d just set off a fire in his brain. His tongue swirled, mouth suctioning hard around your clit, then easing off just enough so he could spit again.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, watching the new mess drip over your cunt. “She loves it. Fuckin’ sloppy for me.”

“She’ll take everything you give her,” you breathed, chest heaving. “You know that. You trained her. Broke her in.”

“Oh, I know.”

He sounded proud. Possessive. Obsessed.

“She knows who she belongs to.”

Your body shuddered.

“I love her, you know that?” he said, fingers spreading you open for his tongue again. “Love this pussy. Love how she feels, how she tastes. I could fuckin’ die between her.”

Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair, thighs squeezing around his head, desperate and overwhelmed. But he loved it—grunting low, letting you pull him in deeper, tighter, closer.

“She’s got me fuckin’ obsessed,” he muttered against you. “Get hard just thinkin’ about her. Wake up fuckin’ leakin’ ‘cause I dream about the way she clenches around my tongue—”

He slipped a finger inside you. Thick. Rough. Curling just right.

Your whole body snapped.

“Oh my god, Joel—!”

“That’s it,” he groaned, voice low and ruined. “Come on. Let her come. Give it to me, baby—I want it. Want to feel her pulse on my fuckin’ face.”

You shattered.

Your thighs locked up, your body bowed off the bed, and your pussy clenched hard around his finger as you came with a cry that echoed off the walls. You said his name like it was the only thing you knew. The only word that mattered.

Joel didn’t let up. Not even as you started to tremble.

Not even as your legs threatened to close.

He held you open—pinned—and kept licking, kept sucking, kept claiming.

He moaned into you, letting you ride it out on his face, licking up every drop you gave him like he needed it to survive.

Joel could still feel your pulse on his tongue.

He still had your slick all over his mouth and beard. The taste of you burned into him—sharp and sweet and sacred. It had knocked something loose in him. Something primal. Something that made him want to tear the rest of his clothes off, drag you into his arms, and finally sink into the place he’d been dreaming about for five long, lonely weeks.

He staggered up from the bed, breath ragged, belt undone with trembling fingers. His body was flushed, hair mussed, lips still wet from your taste.

“You don’t know what you just did to me,” he muttered, voice hoarse like it had been scraped from the inside out. “I can’t fuckin’ wait anymore—I gotta be inside you, baby, now, I—”

But you moved.

Slid off the mattress like smoke. Like fire under silk skin and bare thighs. A slow, molten kind of hunger.

And Joel froze the moment your knees hit the floor.

You looked up at him with heat in your eyes, mischief in your mouth, and a hunger that dared him to stop you.

“Wha—baby—what’re you—”

“Shh,” you said, voice like velvet dragged over flame. “Let me.”

His hands fisted at his sides. His chest rose and fell in hard, shallow pulls. He looked down at you like he wanted to stop you, like he should stop you—

But didn’t. Couldn’t.

You undid the rest of his belt slowly, methodically. Let the tension stretch between you like something alive. The button popped. The zipper dragged down with a slow hiss.

And through it all, your eyes never left his.

“You know how many nights I imagined this?” you murmured, kissing the strip of skin just above his waistband. “How many times I touched myself pretending it was your cock between my lips?”

Joel groaned, hips jolting forward, instinctive and needy.

Your fingers slid beneath his boxers, confident and sure. And you didn’t tease.

You freed him. Let him fall heavy into your palm.

Fuck.

So thick. So hard it looked painful.

You looked at him like he was a goddamn revelation. And the sound that spilled from your lips—low and reverent—nearly knocked Joel off his feet.

“Oh, baby,” you whispered, wrapping your fingers around the base. “You’re perfect.”

Joel shifted, self-conscious in the way only time could teach. He wasn’t young anymore. He was never young, even when he met you. But you fed him well, and with all the labor, he bulked up, bringing out his stomach.

You slapped his thigh. Not hard. It was like you knew where his thoughts were heading. Just enough to snap his gaze back to you.

“Don’t do that,” you said, low and sharp. “You don’t get to hide from me. Not here.”

Joel’s throat worked. “You don’t gotta say that—”

“I’m not sayin’ it to be nice, Joel,” you growled. “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I’ve been fucking starving. And now I get to taste what I’ve been dreaming about since the second I walked out that door.”

Joel’s eyes darkened.

You leaned in and kissed the base of his cock, slow and reverent. His body shuddered.

“You taste like him,” you whispered against the skin. “Like the man who used to own me without even trying.”

And then you licked.

From root to tip.

Deliberate. Worshipful. Filthy.

Joel’s head dropped back. “Jesus Christ.”

You opened your mouth—wide—and took him in.

Hot. Wet. Deep.

Joel moaned, sharp and sudden, a sound dragged straight from his spine. His hips jerked, but your hands were already tight on his thighs, holding him in place.

You worked him slow. Rhythmic. Purposeful.

You weren’t just giving head—you were consuming him.

Joel didn’t know where to look. The way your lips wrapped around him, the hollow of your cheeks, the spit starting to drip down your chin? It was sickeningly gorgeous.

He looked down, saw your eyes staring back at him. Saw your jaw straining to take more.

“S’too good,” he rasped. “Too fuckin’ good. You’re gonna ruin me.”

You pulled off just far enough to speak, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to his cock.

“Maybe I want to ruin you,” you whispered. “Maybe I want you thinkin’ about my mouth every time you jerk off alone in the dark.”

Joel hissed through his teeth. “You got a mouth on you.”

Your tongue traced a slow circle around his tip.

“And you love it.”

“I do,” he growled. “Fuckin’ love everythin’ about that mouth. But you keep goin’ like that, baby, and I’m not gonna last.”

“Good,” you said, licking along a bulging vein. “I want it. All of it.”

And then?

You took him again.

Deeper this time. Throat tighter. Drool messier. Your spit sliding down his cock in obscene trails.

Joel’s hips stuttered. His hands fisted at his sides like it physically hurt not to touch you. Like he was barely hanging on to the dominance he always carried.

“You like that?” you said when you pulled off again, spit smeared on your lips, eyes glazed with hunger. “You like seein’ me like this?”

Joel groaned, barely coherent. “Look at you. Mouth full’a cock, beggin’ for more.”

“I am begging,” you whispered, licking the tip and smiling like the devil. “So don’t hold back, Miller.”

Something inside him snapped.

He gripped your hair—tight, firm, not rough but definite—and held you right there.

“You want me to use this mouth?” he asked, voice low and filthy. “That it?”

You moaned again, eyes fluttering closed as your throat worked.

Joel cursed. "Fuck."

And then he started to move.

Slow at first. Testing.

Your hands gripped his thighs harder, anchoring yourself now.

Joel watched the way you took him. Let him own your mouth. The way your lips stretched, the obscene squelch of your throat as he pushed in and out. He could hear every inch of it. Wet and raw and real.

You looked up again, and he nearly came on the spot.

“You’re so fuckin’ good at this,” he gasped. “Jesus, sweetheart—you take me like you need it.”

You blinked up at him, teary-eyed and eager, your throat fluttering around him again.

Joel growled.

“You like it when I fuck your mouth like this? Like a goddamn filthy man?”

You nodded, or tried to, and he felt the motion around his cock.

His knees nearly gave out.

He was panting now. Full-body trembling. His hands threaded deeper into your hair, tugging at your scalp in a rhythm that matched his hips—thrusting in, slow but hard, dragging against your tongue and hitting the back of your throat again and again.

You whimpered, gagged just a little—and Joel lost it.

“Oh, fuck, baby—don’t do that—don’t you do that unless you want me to come right fuckin’ now—”

You pulled off, gasping, spit connecting your mouth to him in a slick string. His cock was flushed, angry-red, twitching in the open air, gleaming with your spit.

You licked your swollen lips, then backed toward the bed slowly.

Kneeling there.

Waiting.

Like a fucking vision.

Hair messy, skin flushed, mouth parted, chest rising and falling like you were starving for him. Like you needed him to get over there and do what he was made to do.

Joel stared.

Didn’t speak.

He dropped his flannel to the floor—then his shirt, then his jeans, his boxers—and crossed the room without breaking eye contact. He was breathing like a man chasing down his last chance. His thighs ached from how tight they’d been clenched. His stomach wasn’t flat anymore, body worn down by age and time—but you looked at him like he was everything.

Like he was still the man who could ruin you with just one touch.

He crawled up onto the bed—slowly, knees sinking into the mattress, palms planted on either side of your hips.

And you?

You laid back, legs parted, eyes heavy-lidded, the picture of wrecked devotion.

Joel hovered over you, arms caging you in.

For a second, he just looked at you. Like maybe this was a dream. Like maybe if he moved too fast, it would disappear.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Deep. Tongue sweeping into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you again. Like he didn’t just want to fuck you—he wanted to live inside you. Breathe with you. Lose every broken part of himself in the warmth of your skin.

Your hands gripped his arms. His back. Anywhere you could reach. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tight.

And then Joel reached down, slid the head of his cock through your folds.

Up. Down. Just to coat himself in you.

He pushed in slow.

The first inch had his breath catching. The second had his eyes closing. And by the time he was all the way in—seated deep, buried inside you—Joel’s soul had already left his body.

You were everything.

Everything.

Warm and soft and tight, like you’d been molded just for him. Five weeks apart, and still—you welcomed him like nothing had changed. Like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.

You gasped, mouth falling open, fingers clutching his arms like they were the only steady thing in the world.

Joel couldn’t move.

Not yet.

Not when it felt like this. Not when it had been five goddamn weeks of aching and silence and empty rooms and dreams that ended in nothing but sweat and a hollow bed.

His eyes opened slowly. Just to see you.

Your brows drawn together, lips parted, a soft shine in your eyes that had nothing to do with pain.

You weren’t crying.

But it was close.

So was he.

Joel braced himself above you—one forearm pressed into the mattress, the other hand gently pushing your hair back—and kissed you.

It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t greedy.

It was reverent.

He kissed you like he needed you to understand. That he never wanted to be without you again. That no one—no person, no place, no damn argument—could ever replace what you were to him.

When he finally moved?

It was slow. Careful.

A pull, and a push.

He exhaled, voice breaking. “You feel so good, darlin’.”

You whimpered beneath him, nails pressing into his shoulder blades.

Joel didn’t rush it.

Every movement was like worship. Like penance. Like he was apologizing with his body—saying all the things he hadn’t known how to say before.

He rolled his hips again.

Your mouth fell open. “Joel—”

“I know,” he breathed. “I know, baby. I missed you. Missed this.”

Your eyes met his. And for a moment, everything went still.

Just heartbeats.

Breath.

Bodies pressed together like they’d never come apart again.

Joel kissed you again, deeper this time, hand slipping under your back to hold you closer. And then?

He moved faster.

Not rough. Not harsh.

Just urgent.

Like he couldn’t stand the space between your skin and his.

You moaned—high and sweet and wrecked—and that sound went straight to his chest.

Joel groaned low. “That’s it,” he rasped. “That’s the sound I been waitin’ to hear. Five weeks without it, and I thought I’d lose my damn mind.”

You clung to him harder. Wrapped your legs around his hips, anchoring him there.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

Joel’s rhythm shifted—deeper, harder, but still loving. Still present. His forehead dropped to yours, eyes half-lidded, breath hot on your lips.

“Never gonna stop again,” he muttered. “Never lettin’ you walk out that door.”

You arched beneath him.

His name left your lips again, this time softer. A plea. A promise. A prayer.

Joel held you tighter.

“You fit me,” he panted. “Like you were made for me. Like you always fuckin’ have.”

Your breath hitched. Your eyes fluttered shut.

And Joel watched every second of it.

Because that’s what he’d missed most.

You. Just like this. Not just the sex. Not just the body. But the way you looked at him like he was worth it. Like you saw him, even when he couldn’t stand to look at himself.

He fucked you like it mattered.

“That what you needed?” he asked, thrusting again, a little harder. “Needed me to fuck you like you belong to me?”

You nodded—whimpered—and he growled.

“Say it.”

“I belong to you.”

“Louder.”

“I fucking belong to you, Joel!”

That was all it took.

He grabbed your thigh, hitched it higher on his waist, and slammed into you. Again. Again.

The bed creaked. Your cries filled the room. Joel’s voice—low, hoarse, reverent—was in your ear.

“Missed this pussy so bad,” he panted. “Missed how tight you squeeze me. Missed how you fuckin’ moan when I hit that spot—right there—yeah, you feel that?”

You squealed—a sound so pure and broken it made Joel want to cry.

He couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

Not when you were wrapped around him like this, clinging to him, crying out his name like it was the only word you remembered. Not when you were looking at him with that shattered kind of love in your eyes. Like you’d missed him just as much.

Your thigh was hooked high on his hip. Your hands were in his hair, on his back, gripping, clawing, grounding yourself. Joel could barely think—could barely breathe—with how tightly your body hugged his.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, voice strained. “This feel good to you?”

You nodded fast, desperate. “So good—so good, Joel, I missed you—I missed this—I—”

He caught your mouth in another kiss. Swallowed the words. Gave you everything in return. His thrusts hit deep, perfect, the way only he knew how to give. And he listened for it—that cry you made when he angled just right. When he found that spot and pressed into it, unrelenting.

“There?” he murmured, dragging his hips again.

You sobbed. “There.”

Joel grinned against your cheek, even as sweat ran down his back, even as his muscles ached and trembled.

And then you were saying things—soft, half-broken, whispered against his ear like confessions.

“I love you,” you breathed. “I never stopped. I never stopped.”

His heart clenched.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, still moving inside you, still holding your gaze like it was holy.

“I love you,” he said, voice breaking. “Been lovin’ you since the start. Been waitin’ for you to come back so I could say it again.”

You kissed him—messy, desperate, teeth clicking.

“Don’t let me go again,” you whispered.

“Never,” Joel swore. “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

Then he slid a hand between your bodies. Found your clit. Pressed two fingers to it, circling slow, firm, just the way you needed.

You screamed.

Your whole body arched beneath him—taut, electric, unraveling. You came hard, pulsing around him, your voice sharp and open in his ear.

And Joel—fuck—Joel lost it.

You clenched down, and he was gone. Buried deep, his body locking up, breath stalling in his throat. He groaned loud, raw, like the release had been dragged from his bones. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he came inside you, holding you as tight as his arms would allow.

Everything was you.

Your scent. Your breath. Your body. Your voice still saying I love you like a prayer.

Joel stayed there, wrapped around you, chest heaving against yours. The room was warm now—sweat-slick skin, tangled limbs, the sheets pushed down and forgotten. Your bodies were still joined, hearts thundering in time.

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t have to.

His breath slowed against your shoulder, nose tucked into the crook of your neck, and you ran your fingers through his hair—soft, slow strokes. He could feel your pulse beneath his lips, steady and alive. Like you were anchoring him there. Like if he let go, the world might slip again.

He didn’t want to move.

But eventually, he had to.

Joel exhaled slowly and began to pull away, his hands careful at your hips. He didn’t want to hurt you—didn’t want to lose that closeness, not even for a second.

Still buried deep, he paused.

Then he slid out of you, slow and reverent.

You whimpered softly, body shivering at the loss. Joel glanced down, and the sight of it—his cum, white and hot, spilling from you—had his throat going tight. His stomach clenched.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Look at that.”

You shifted on the bed, stretching slightly, and the movement only made more of him leak out of you, trailing down your thighs.

Joel cursed again. His voice was raw with wonder and regret.

You looked at him, flushed and glowing. A lazy, content smile pulled at your lips.

“Gonna gawk, or you gonna hold me?” you teased gently.

He huffed a breath—half a laugh—and climbed back into bed, gathering you into his arms like you were something fragile. He tugged the blanket up over both of you, let your head rest on his chest, one hand smoothing over your back, the other tangled in your hair.

For a while, it was just that.

Breathing.

Touching.

The afterglow wrapped around you like another blanket, and Joel held you tighter, like maybe he could trap time. Keep it from moving forward and tearing this moment away.

But it did move.

And eventually, you spoke.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly.

Joel stiffened—barely. He nodded. Cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes. “I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I—fuck. I know.”

Your eyes searched his. “But I needed more, Joel. I needed you. Not just your body, not just your actions. I needed your voice. Your thoughts. I needed to know what was goin’ on in your head when you shut down like that.”

Joel looked away.

The guilt was sharp. Cutting.

He exhaled, rubbing at his face. “I’ve always been like that,” he admitted. “Since… since Sarah. Since everythin’ after. When shit gets too much, I just… just go quiet. I don’t know how not to.”

You laid your palm over his chest, right above his heart.

“It hurt,” you whispered. “When we fought, and you walked away from me with silence. It made me feel like I didn’t matter. Like I was yelling into a void.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours. Pain settled behind them, low and heavy.

“I don’t want you feel that way,” he said hoarsely. “I just… I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t wanna make it worse. Didn’t wanna say the wrong thing and ruin everythin’.”

“You not saying anything was the wrong thing,” you said gently. “That’s what hurt us.”

He nodded slowly. Took your hand in his. Pressed his lips to your knuckles like they were sacred.

“I know. I see that now.” He swallowed hard. “I want to fix that.”

Your expression softened.

“I don’t expect you to change overnight,” you murmured. “I just want to feel like you’re in this with me. That when things get hard, you don’t disappear.”

Joel’s grip on your hand tightened.

“I won’t,” he said. “You have my word.”

Silence fell again—but it was warm now. Comfortable. Like a sigh through the sheets.

After a moment, you nestled closer.

“I missed this,” you whispered. “Not just the sex. Just… this. You. Me. Quiet.”

Joel pressed his lips to your forehead.

“I missed you every damn day,” he said. “House was too quiet. Coffee didn’t taste right. Nothin’ did.”

You smiled. “You make shitty coffee anyway.”

He chuckled. “Hey now. It’s improved. Slightly…”

You laughed softly and tucked yourself against his side, a perfect fit.

Joel stared at the ceiling for a while, then turned his gaze down to you.

“I’m gonna try. I want this—you. For long as you’ll have me.”

You looked up at him, eyes shining again.

“Forever sound okay?”

Joel kissed you, slow and soft, like it was the easiest vow he’d ever made.

“Forever sounds perfect.”

Guys, it feels really good to be writing something different, other than terms & conditions. I love t&C, I really do, but something new never hurt anyone once in a while!

2K notes · View notes

sabxynsweet · 3 days ago

Text

mattheo hears sweetheart!reader talk about him

based loosely on this request <3 (and a few other asks)

"What's the deal with you and Riddle?"

Mattheo can only faintly hear Pansy's voice through your phone speaker, though it's muffled significantly through the dorm room door.

But your voice? Clear as day.

He does feel guilty listening in, especially since you probably have no idea how thin the door to your room is, but he can't help himself.

He leans his head closer to the door, his curls pressing against the wood, holding CDs in his arms.

"I really like him." You pause, he can picture you biting your lower lip the way you always do when you're thinking on how to word something, "He makes me feel special - like I matter."

"You do matter." He can faintly hear Pansy say, he's sure you smile, he agrees with what Pansy says.

"Thanks." You huff out a soft laugh, "Like, he really does listen when I talk and I never feel like I'm too much when I'm around him."

"I know I'm a lot to handle, but, I don't know," You continue, the end of your sentence dwindling off, he leans in closer to hear you, "He handles me, you know?"

"That's sweet," Pansy coos, "I never expected that from him."

You laugh again, he feels the corner of his lips twitch up.

"He is still, well, you know, him, though." He feels his heart sink.

"He makes me feel so special but he also makes me feel so, so stupid."

You're not stupid, he wants to tell you and it reminds him of what he said that day he kissed you.

"What do you mean?" Pansy asks.

"I feel stupid for wanting him - for thinking he wants me for real."

He does want you for real, do you still not know?

"Babe, you're still wondering if he wants you for real?" He has never been more thankful for Pansy, "He is down so horribly bad for you, everyone can see it."

Probably not how he would have worded it. Mattheo rolls his eyes at the statement, but can't deny its truth.

"I know but," You pause, "Sometimes I'm worried he's playing me."

"Wha-" You cut her off.

"No listen, I feel like maybe he's just with me for fun or 'wanting me' is just a phase that'll pass and he knows that and that's why he's not making it official." He heels his heart thud in his chest.

"That's why he won't say he loves me." You say, voice so much smaller that he has to lean in closer to the door, "I don't want to be with someone who doesn't love me."

"It's pathetic, I know."

Pansy, please tell her how wrong she is. Pansy, please tell her that I’ve never wanted anyone for so long. Pansy, please tell her that I've never been so close to being able to love someone before her.

"I guess I can see what you mean." Fuck.

"But, this is the most I've seen him care about anyone - let alone a girl." Pansy says, "Give him time, he'll come around."

You sigh.

"I will, I'm down horribly bad for him too, unfortunately." You sigh forlornly.

"He really does like you, you know."

Mattheo looks down at the CDs in his hands, the ones that he brought with you in mind.

The ones that always remind him of you. He planned to leave them in your dorm so he had an excuse to come around more, if only to listen to the love songs that had your name wrapped around each lyric.

"I know." He hears you say, he lets a breath.

You make him feel stupid, too. Because the way you could make him dive into the deep side of the Great Lake, if you only called his name, goes against everything he has been taught.

"I have to go, Pans. Mattheo will come around any minute." You say, "Love, love, love you."

"Love you!" Pansy hums back, he envies how easy it is for you two to say those words, like it's second nature and not a promise Mattheo has never been able to make before.

He hears the faint sound of your phone hitting your desk, he quickly turns on his heel. He paces the common room twenty minutes before returning to your door.

they’re both a little stupid, i think. but like! stupid in love <3

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko @blainea98 @randomfanpage @megzz-x @peterparkerspersonalplaything @kiessecretcove @kiesrepostarchive

#mattheo riddle x sweetheart!reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine

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carnalcrows · 1 day ago

Text

SAY PLEASE

pairing: abby saja x top male reader

synopsis: Abby’s been throwing hints left and right—flirty touches, cocky smirks, lingering glances that scream take the damn bait already. But his manager just keeps smiling at him like nothing’s going on. Sweet. Harmless. So when Abby finally snaps after a brutal night and drags him into a supply closet, desperate to blow off steam, he figures he knows how this ends. A quick hookup. A little control. Easy.

He doesn’t expect the guy he’s been teasing for weeks to turn around and beg for something filthier. Something softer. Something that leaves Abby shaking by the end of it.

And the worst part? He kind of loves it.

content warnings: 18+, smut, brat Abby, top male reader, power dynamics, closet scene, manager x idol, begging, dom/sub elements, praise kink (good boy, prince), manhandling, ass eating, overstimulation, [smut], post-scenario emotional softness, mild internalized shame, possessive behavior, freaky obsession (hidden under a sweet exterior)

word count: 1.2k

"You gonna help me or not?" Abby asked, breath short, jaw tight.

You blinked up at him from where he dropped you. “...What kind of help are we talking about?”

He exhaled like he was about to throw something. “Are you serious right now?”

"I mean—" You sat up slowly. "You’ve been kinda vague."

Abby crouched in front of you, both hands planted on either side of your thighs. His eyes were glassy with frustration. "I dragged you into a closet. What do you think I want?"

You tilted your head, all soft lashes and fake innocence. “Hug?”

His face twitched. “You are such a fucking menace.”

"Then why do you keep flirting with me?"

“I—what—?” He paused, short-circuited.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” you asked, voice dropping a little, just enough to make his breath catch. “You think I haven’t been waiting for you to finally do something about it?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. You were already rising to your knees, closing the space between you, until you could hear the way his breath stuttered when you leaned in.

Abby blinked, startled. “Wait—so you knew?”

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, brushing your fingers under his chin, “I’ve been starving for you.”

His whole body tensed, heat crawling up his neck.

You smiled. “So. How do you want me?”

Abby licked his lips, fast. “I thought you’d maybe wanna… I dunno. Suck me off. Or let me—”

“Nope.”

You kissed the corner of his jaw. “Wanna eat you out.”

He jerked back like you slapped him. “You what?”

“I said—”

“No, no, I heard you. I just. What the fuck.”

You shrugged. “You dragged me in here. You said you were stressed. Let me help.”

“That’s not—Guys don’t usually—I’m not—” He looked like he was glitching out. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

You gave him that look. Soft. Puppyish. Lips parted, a little pouty. Not even putting it on.

“Please?” you whispered. “Want you so bad, Abby. Been thinking about it forever.”

His throat bobbed.

"You're not gonna tell anyone, right?"

"Course not."

You kissed him.

That shut him up fast.

Abby stiffened, caught off guard, but he didn’t pull away. His hands twitched at your sides like he couldn’t decide whether to push you off or pull you in. And then—slowly—he kissed you back. Tentative at first. Almost shy, like the fire he’d come in with was starting to burn inward now.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed, breath catching like he’d just realized what he was agreeing to.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, smiling gently. “You don’t have to.”

He hesitated. Really hesitated this time. You could see it—pride and desire wrestling under his skin, chewing at the edge of his mouth. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt like he needed to hold something while he decided.

Then finally, he let out a breath and nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly. “But if I tell you to stop, you have to stop. No matter what.”

You beamed up at him, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “Deal,” you agreed easily. “Now turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”

Abby did as you asked, hands splaying against the shelves as you positioned yourself behind him—before pushing his pants down, along with his boxers. You could see the way his body trembled with anticipation, hear the shaky inhale of his breath.

"Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop," you reminded him gently, hands coming to rest on his hips. "I'll check in with you throughout."

With that, you leaned forward and dragged the flat of your tongue over his entrance. Abby jerked, a gasp leaving his lips at the sudden contact. You hummed encouragingly, licking again before sealing your mouth around him and sucking lightly.

"Oh fuck," Abby breathed, fingers scrabbling at the shelves. "That feels... holy shit."

You just continued your ministrations, varying your technique to figure out what he liked best. It didn't take long before he was pushing back against your face, breath coming in short pants as you worked him open with lips and tongue.

"Please," he whined after a few minutes, hips rolling desperately against the wall. "I need more. Need your fingers or something."

You pulled back just long enough to slick up two fingers before pressing them inside him, curling them just so to hit his prostate. Abby cried out, back arching as he struggled to take the new stretch.

"Right there," he gasped, head thrashing from side to side. "Fuck yes, just like that. Don't stop."

You didn't, doubling down on your efforts until he was babbling incoherently, thighs shaking with the force of his pleasure. Only then did you pull your fingers free, sealing your lips back around him and sucking hard as you pushed three fingers inside this time.

"Shit," Abby panted, eyes rolling back as he struggled to take the new stretch. "So fucking full. Can't... can't take much more."

You just stayed there behind him, gaze locked on every twitch, every shiver, working him over with your mouth and hands like you were starving for it. Abby’s fingers scrabbled against the wall of the closet, breath hitching. His head dropped forward with a soft, choked sound—he couldn’t see you, but he didn’t need to. Every nerve in his body was screaming for you.

"Gonna come," he warned shakily, hips starting to stutter. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

You just hummed around him, continuing to work on his prostate until he was screaming your name, spilling a hot and sticky mess from his cock, that dribbled down to his hole and across your tongue. You swallowed it down greedily, continuing to work him through his orgasm with lips and tongue until he was spent and shaking.

Only then did you pull away, licking your lips clean as you rose to your feet. Abby looked up at you with glassy, satisfied eyes, a dopey grin on his face— reaching up to pull you down for a proper kiss. You went willingly, letting him taste himself on your tongue as he clung to you.

You were both still on the floor ten minutes later.

Well. You were on the floor. Abby was draped across your chest like a dramatic little prince, sweat cooling along his collarbone, your jacket half-tucked beneath him like a makeshift pillow.

He hadn’t spoken in a while. Just kept exhaling soft and shaky, like he didn’t quite know how to be alive again yet.

Finally, he muttered, “...Fuck.”

You laughed quietly, one hand stroking up his back.

“Never speak of this again,” he said.

You hummed. “You said that already.”

“I mean it.”

You kissed the top of his head. “Sure, baby.”

He didn’t argue. Just curled in closer, fingers fisting the fabric of your shirt.

"...You were really good,” he mumbled, voice too quiet for how bratty he usually was. “Like. Stupid good.”

You smiled. “I know.”

"Ugh." He shoved at your chest half-heartedly. "Don’t get cocky."

"Too late. Got you crying in a closet."

He groaned into your neck. “I hate you.”

You laughed. “You will. Until the next time you’re stressed.”

Taglist: @belovedengie @jrxkar @yippee-yippee8 @faggotboulevard @bleedingbl0ssom @green-turtle3 @mazettns @laynnetteii1 (comment to be added)

#male reader #top male reader #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters #x reader #gay #smut #x male reader #kpdh #abby saja #saja boys x reader #abby saja x reader #saja boys x male reader #bottom saja boys #kpdh x male reader #bottom character #top reader #kpdh brainrot #kpop demon hunters x male reader

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that-one-girl2020 · 1 day ago

Text

Role Reversal Pt. 4

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Oh my gosh, this one was a doozy. The reader and the boys’ personalities are just the slightest bit different from them in the original series because they have different experiences now. So Jum is less curious and childlike and the reader is more proactive in getting to know them instead of the other way around. Also, I promise I see all of your guys’ requests, even the ones in comments, I read all the comments. I just take time to get to each one depending on my inspiration, I have like fifty requests sitting in my inbox right now and I will try my best to get to each of them.

Synopsis: With Gwi Ma’s orders hanging over your head and the girls not being much help, you take your own steps to get to know the boys on your own.

CW: Low self esteem, insecurity, suicidal ideation (?), violence, bug eating (yes, you eat a bug), swearing/cursing.

Word Count: 6.1k

<< Part 3 || Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

The competition began. The two idol groups clashed fiercely, promoting their music and performing with a ferocity that would be more apt for a gladiator ring and not what was viewed in the industry as friendly rivalry.

Not long after you had met with Jinu and Jum, the other girls made their own reluctant moves. Your sister sent Jinu a note to meet—when she came back she seemed more thoughtful but when asked, she said that she felt like she would have a hard time dealing with Jinu. Mira, in her own passive aggressive way, ambushed Abby and Romance which led to a two hour long chase through the city where she cackled and taunted the boys. She had fun, but it didn’t seem very productive. Zoey had crashed into Mystery’s room—not literally—and bombarded the man with nail polish, random movies she had grabbed at the store, and a desire to know all the gossip that he knew. Also not very productive.

The girls spent more time with each other than working on their mission so you decided to broaden your task.

Before the end of the week, you had Arson and Sprite tailing the boys, keeping watch on them. So when they told you that one of the boys had left the Tower on their own, you jumped at the opportunity.

You teleported into an alley and easily slipped into the crowd of people on the sidewalk, walking beside the quiet man. Ever the observant one, he didn’t even need to turn his head to notice you there.

”Jinu and Jum have been acting weird.”

”Who?” You asked before really thinking about it.

“Baby. They’ve been off since the bathhouse. What’d you guys do?” Mystery asked you bluntly.

“Why didn’t you ask Zoey?” You dodged the topic, stuffing your hands in your pockets casually. It seemed like the two men hadn’t told the others about what had happened or about their meetup with you. Interesting. The boys didn’t fully trust each other, it seemed.

Mystery’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, “She was a little too energetic. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise before one of the guys came to ask what all the noise was about.”

You nodded, a hesitantly fond smile pulling at your lips, “Yeah, sounds like her.” The two of you walked along quietly for a few more minutes. You found it surprisingly peaceful. The people around you were just going about their own days and the sun was shining down and warming your skin. It was nice.

Hyeon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. It was a little jarring to see you in casual clothes since he had really only seen you in your idol persona. Especially since the scars he had thought you and your sister had been hiding with makeup were actually demon patterns glamoured to look like faint scarring.

Hyeon didn’ t know that you and Rumi were actually unable to fully conceal your patterns with demonic means, even now. Gwi Ma’s idea of a joke since you both had tried so hard to run from them in the past.

“Can I ask?” You spoke, shaking you and him from your thoughts. “What’s with the stagenames?”

Mystery turned his head to look at you, not that you could tell. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, they just feel a little… off?”

Mystery turned his head to look forward again after watching you for a long moment. “They give us personas, safety nets when we’re performing or interacting with fans. At least, that’s what the company told us. Some of us picked our names and some of us didn’t.” You nodded at his answer, mulling the information over in your head and trying to guess which of the guys chose their names and who didn’t.

“Why don’t you guys have stage names?” Mystery asked curiously.

“I’m not sure,” You shrugged again, rolling your head back to look at the sky thoughtfully. But then you almost tripped over your own feet so you looked straight again. “The girls didn’t want one so I didn’t either. They’re trying to be more human, I guess.”

Mystery hummed for a moment. The two of you fell into a peaceful silence again. You paused when he turned into a building with dark lights inside, “What is this place?” You asked curiously, looking around at the game boxes and flashing lights curiously.

“Arcade,” Mystery answered simply and you followed behind him. “I come here to destress and get out of my head when I’m thinking too much.”

“Oh,” was all you said. Your head was turning this way and that as you tried to take in everything around you.

“Jum sometimes comes too, but he usually prefers pc and console games.”

You nodded, pretending like you knew what any of that meant. You were surprised when he handed you a plastic card full of prepaid tokens. You weren’t sure what to do with it so you just followed him.

It was surprisingly fun once you got the hang of it all. You won yourself a cute keychain from a claw thing. You didn’t win against Mystery though, not during any of the games he showed you. He let you pull him curiously into a Photo Booth, letting you choose the border and the effects. Though you weren’t sure, but he might have growled at some guy who was staring for longer than you felt comfortable with.

Hyeon didn’t know what to make of you. He couldn’t help but find it endearing how you looked at everything in the arcade with open curiosity and how you smiled unrestrained when you were focused on a game. Even when you pouted, sulking when you lost, he should’ve felt nothing for you, a demon, but his heart was light with you.

By the time your tokens ran out—after the second time he refilled your cards—it was late and the two of you had called it a day. Before the two of you parted, you held out the keychain you had worked hard to get from the claw game, “Here.” He held out his hand and you dropped it, giving it to him as he blinked down at the keychain. “Thanks for today, Mystery.”

“Hyeon.”

You tilted your head in surprise that he had given you his actual name. It wasn’t like their actual names were secret, they were online and on their biographies. But you and the girls stubbornly called them by their stagenames as a reminder that this was a mission and they were just targets. However, if Mystery was insisting you call him by his actual name, that meant you were getting closer to him, like you were supposed to, right? It…made you feel…warm.

You smiled, “Thanks Hyeon.” You teleported away.

Hyeon lingered, watching the spot you had just disappeared from for a moment longer. Somehow, he found himself missing your presence. Your perfume lingered in his senses. He looked down at the keychain again before carefully tucking it away in his pocket.

Maybe he would try and find what perfume it was that you were wearing. Just to have around…

~~~

Your time with Mystery—Hyeon, went surprisingly well, in your opinion. Though, there was tension when at an award ceremony, Huntr/x was awarded the most listened to of the week thanks to the climbing popularity of ‘The Baddest.’ Plenty of demonic charm helped with your growing popularity as well.

Your next chance to become closer with the boys came just after the award ceremony. Sprite was covering for you with the girls by making an illusion of you sleeping in your room. Abby—according to Arson, your precious baby boy—had left the Tower on his own to get some air since he was so frustrated at losing to you girls that day.

The man was heading towards the river to clear his head and you teleported ahead, sitting on the edge of the river with your legs dangling over the water. It was a peaceful place. Especially at night when there weren’t a whole lot of people around. Looking out, the city lights reflected off of the water like a wobbly reflection of the night sky.

You heard footsteps approaching you and looked up, locking eyes with the startled Abby. Neither of you said anything. Honestly, you hadn’t really thought this through.

Abby grit his teeth and suddenly leapt at you, summoning his battle axe while you scrambled to dodge the brutal strike with a yelp. You took off running down the sidewalk. “WHAT DID I DO?!” You shrieked. You weren’t Mira. You didn’t enjoy running for your life as men with rainbow star weapons chased you.

Kwan continued chasing you, his teeth grit and his muscles flexing as he pumped his legs as hard as he could. He was sick of these demon girls putting their fans in danger and keeping them from sealing the Honmoon. The pink haired demon girl had been annoying enough when she had led him and Chungae on a chase through the city, mocking them the whole time. “You existed!”

You groaned, your mouth running before you could really think about it, “Ugh, you’re just like my fucking Aunt!”

Abby came to a screeching halt, completely thrown off by what you had just blurted out. He almost fell over with how hard he braked but he was able to catch himself. “Wait a fucking minute, you have an aunt? Demons have families?” He questioned incredulously.

You also slid to a halt, turning to look at him but still ready to run if you had to. “Uhm, yeah? Obviously. Rumi is my sister, you know. Did you seriously think we didn’t?” You couldn’t help but deadpan at him a bit. Hunters really didn’t know anything about demons besides how to kill them.

“No,” Abby shook his head, denying it like it was obvious to assume that living creatures had no other relatives or familial relations of any kind. “I thought it was just a ruse. How do you have an aunt?”

This time you really did deadpan at him. “Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much—“

Abby snarled, cutting you off, “You know that’s not what I meant!” Abby took a deep breath, settling his temper so he could get the answers that he wanted. “Demons don’t have families,” He said stubbornly.

You shook your head, “Most demons come from human souls in one way or another. It’s just a matter of if they remember their human lives.”

Abby made a skeptical face, his grip on his weapon never wavering for a second. “And you do?”

You nodded, re-explaining what you had already told Jinu and Baby. “Three types of demons: first, the kind that are created from the souls Gwi Ma consumes are more inhuman because they don’t remember their human lives. Second, the kind that are born to two demons, they don’t know anything else besides the demon realm. And finally, the kind of demon that humans are turned into after they make a deal with Gwi Ma out of desire or desperation.”

Abby scoffed, intuitively knowing which one you and the other three girls were. The four of you were able to mimic human emotions much better than the other demons the boys had killed. “So what? You made a deal with Gwi Ma for fame? Power?”

Your face fell flat. You didn’t want to talk about it. It still hurt. But it wouldn’t hurt for much longer as long as you fulfilled your mission. “Love, actually,” you answered stoically.

Abby actually did falter, his axe lowering just the slightest bit before he steeled himself and lifted his axe back to aim at you. “You were so desperate for love that you asked the demon king to make someone love you? What? A guy didn’t love you back or something?”

You frowned at Abby’s intentionally cruel words, snapping back at him, “Nobody loved me! Just because I was born different, because I didn’t look how they wanted, nobody loved me.” You looked away from him, a stupid move to make as he still had his weapon. But the old bitter memories choked your throat and left you aching and vulnerable in a way that made it feel like you couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t see his reaction to how pitiful you were.

Meanwhile, Kwan slowly lowered his axe, letting it fade away. It was too familiar. It brought to the surface his own memories that he did his best to keep out of thought, reasoning that it was in the past and didn’t matter anymore. But it still did.

When he was younger, he was the outcast no matter where he went. After he lost his parents when he was young he was put into foster care. All the other kids always avoided him due to his taller height, bigger frame, and frightening features. As he got older, it got worse. Even adults started avoiding him, labeling him a violent delinquent just because of how he looked and how quiet he was. Dance had been his only reprieve.

So he got it.

Quietly, he spoke, “Sorry…” He didn’t know where to look or what to do now. At that moment, you were just a girl that he could relate to.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I…” Abby sighed, clenching and clenching his fists, frustrated at himself. “I do get it.”

He didn’t say any more about the matter. So you simply nodded slowly, “Okay.”

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” Abby blurted out and you could see panic flash through his eyes. He was cursing his own impulsivity. But you chuckled and nodded, “Sure. Anywhere in mind?”

He nodded, “Yeah, c’mon.” He gestured with his head and you slowly joined his side, the two of you walking together, quietly to wherever Abby had in mind for food—his own small peace offering after saying things he did.

You guys ended up at a street market. It seemed like he came there often as he talked to the elderly stall owners as familiarly as one would with their own grandparents. The two of you had a few different dishes like chicken skewers and tteokbokki. You grimaced when he stopped to get a cup of beondegi. Silkworm pupae.

He noticed your look and held them out to you, chuckling when you stepped back, “What? Never had them before?”

You just eyed them skeptically, “They came way after my time.”

Abby snorted, “Okay, grandma. Here, just try it once.” You whined unsurely but he merely held it out closer to you. “Come on, granny, just one.”

You slowly took one in your fingers, eyeing it with a grimace. Finally, you bit the bullet—or, well, bug—and popped it in your mouth, biting down. You flinched slightly when all the juices came out but then you actually tasted it and calmed down. You hummed.

“And?” Abby asked curiously. “How is it?”

You swallowed. “Not bad. Kind of nutty. But I’m not eating it again.”

Abby shrugged, “Fair enough. At least you tried it.”

The two of you continued on, eating different foods. Whatever you didn’t finish went to his never ending appetite, which was slightly disturbing to see. Eventually, you both were full and had to part ways or else your groups would come looking for you. That is, if the girls realized it was just Sprite back at the apartment.

“Thanks,” You told him softly, not looking directly at him. “For giving me a chance, Abby.”

He didn’t respond for a moment so you started walking away. But then his voice stopped you. “Call me Kwan.” You turned to look back at him in surprise but he put on an air of nonchalance, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Don’t think this means we’ll go easy on you. We’re still gonna crush you and those other three at the next awards.”

You chuckled, “Sure, Kwan. See ya,” you waved and walked off to find a good spot to teleport from.

Kwan watched you go, conflicted. It was weird how normal and…understood he felt with you. Maybe it was because you both had similar experiences with your appearances. But he didn’t know why nobody would love you, you were beautiful. You must have been gorgeous before your demon patterns.

~~~

Things were going well for you. Almost frighteningly so.

You had made close contact with four out of five of the boys. Well… Jinu and Baby had come to your meetup and hadn’t tried to kill you. You hadn’t really done any actual bonding like you did with Hyeon and Kwan. You might have to do some one on one interactions…

Anyway, you were at least glad that you were able to turn Kwan trying to kill you into him empathizing with you and getting food together. The girls were working on another song to release in case their one song wouldn’t get them high enough on the charts. You also made some progress with your own ideas when you had free time.

But today, Sprite had let you know that the other male pinkette had ventured outside of the Tower on his own. So you changed out of your practice clothes and teleported over. Said male was at the park, breathing in the fresh air and people watching. While also sitting on the most picturesque bench in the whole park since it was surrounded by flowers and shaded trees.

So, you picked a flower and made your way over from behind, leaning your arms on the bench while he was too distracted to notice you. You poked his cheek with the flower and he practically jumped a mile into the air, ending up on the other end of the bench.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Hey.”

Chungae looked at you with wide eyes, his gaze darting from the civilians around the park and then to you. You were here. Why were you here. With a flower. He wanted to summon his fans—his weapons fans, not his fanatic fans—to kill you before you became a bigger problem than you already were but he couldn’t do it out in public like this.

“What’re you doing here?!” Romance hissed as you rounded the bench to sit on the opposite end from him.

“Getting some air,” You shrugged your shoulders, fiddling with the stem of the flower.

He narrowed his eyes at you dubiously, “Y’know, you can get in trouble for picking the flowers here.”

You eyed him, “Really? And who’s gonna yell at me?”

Romance deadpanned at you. Then he nudged his head to the side, “They will.” You turned your head to look and, sure enough, there were some park workers walking down the sidewalk.

Your eyes widened and you cursed, “Here, you take it!” You shoved the flower into his hands. “Happy birthday!” You spat out the first words that came to mind, ready to run so you could avoid getting in trouble.

Romance blanched, pushing it back towards you, “Birthday? It’s not my birthday! Take back your felony!” He hissed at you.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” You gritted at him, pushing the flower back towards him.

“It’s not Valentine’s Day!”

“Well, just take it!”

“No!”

The two of you froze a little comically when the park workers walked past the two of you. They were chuckling but they didn’t give the two of you a second glance. When neither of you faced the wrath of the workers, you both sighed a breath of relief, Romance actually taking the flower, “Well, in that case, thanks for the flower, darling.”

You snorted, “No problem, handsome,” You cooed in return jokingly.

You weren’t prepared for the man to blush, looking away shyly to cough into his fist.

Chungae quickly changed the subject, stiffening as he reminded himself that you were a demon that wanted to suck the souls of his fans. “What’re you doing here, again?”

You leaned back against the bench. “I told you, I wanted some air,” You repeated yourself.

“Right,” Romance drawled, looking at you suspiciously. “And I’m here to slaughter children.”

You gasped dramatically, looking at him scandalized, “You are? And here I thought you were this morally upright demon hunter!”

Romance couldn’t help but snort at your dramatics. “It’s called sarcasm, darling. I’m people watching.”

The both of you turned to look around. You looked at the people going about their days, peaceful and content for the most part. “Why? What’s so interesting about it?” You asked.

It’s not that you didn’t people watch either. But you did it because you wanted what normal humans had. Love, happiness, acceptance, safety, comfort. Take your pick, you wanted at least a sliver of one of them. You were curious why the man did it though.

Romance was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “They have something I don’t,” was all he responded with.

And you could understand that.

You merely hummed in understanding, the two of you sitting in silence for a while as you both watched the people around you. There was a woman on the swings with a baby in her lap. Some girls were having a picnic, taking pictures and giggling over their phones. An elderly couple was shuffling down the sidewalk arm in arm. A married couple was sitting at a table with their kid.

Chungae was uncertain about you. He kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You were just quietly sitting there, watching people go by about their days. There wasn’t a glimmer of demonic plotting in your eyes, you were just watching… He wasn’t sure what, but there was something about you that he recognized in himself. He should’ve hated it, hated that he could see a part of himself in you, a demon. But, he couldn’t. Because it was a part of him that was still a child on the inside.

“Why are you doing this?” Romance broke the quiet between you.

You didn’t look at him, your eyes on two little girls running through the trees. “I have my reasons.”

He scoffed, “That’s not an answer.”

“It is, it’s just not the one you wanted.”

Romance huffed, the two of you falling into silence again. Despite the slight tension between you, it wasn’t a stifling silence. It was just thoughtful.

You sighed, reminding yourself that in order to succeed you had to have some semblance of vulnerability. “Gwi Ma said he would get rid of a certain memory if I do this.”

Romance turned his head to look at you in surprise. “A memory?” He echoed questioningly.

“From my human life. Before I was a demon,” You explained to him. It was just another point in your theory that the boys didn’t communicate with each other very well. “Not all demons were demons forever. A lot of us still remember our human lives.”

“And…” Romance drawled unsurely, “What’s the memory you want gone?”

You answered vaguely, “Somebody I thought loved me betrayed me.” Everyone you thought loved you ended up betraying you.

“Oh,” Romance answered dumbly. “Well, then it wasn’t real love.”

You looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Love isn’t like that. If someone really loves you, then they would never betray you,” Romance explained.

Chungae hoped he sounded sure in his words because he absolutely was not. How could he when he had no idea what love was like? He didn’t remember familial love, friendly love, and he had never experienced romantic love. He was just using his own flawed fantasies and media he had consumed as his expectations for love. That was all he could do.

You weren’t aware of his thoughts as you took his words in. They were comforting, in their own way. You felt validated in your anger and frustration but the hurt was still there. It was okay though. The hurt would go away soon, you reminded yourself.

For now, you simply smiled at the pink haired man, “Thanks Romance.”

“Chungae,” He found himself correcting you. He was surprised at himself but he didn’t take it back, “Call me Chungae.”

Your smile became more genuine, “Thanks Chungae.”

The two of you turned back to watch the people in the park around you. You two were still enemies, but right now? You two were comfortable in the soft space that had formed around you.

~~~

You decided that you should try and get some one on one time with Jinu and Baby.

But it seemed like the two didn’t leave the Tower often—on their own or otherwise. So you would have to have them come to you or you would have to go to them. Your choice was made when Arson left Sprite alone.

You followed Arson to the Tower and teleported up to the balcony. Sprite’s eyes were glowing faintly, a sign that he was using his illusion powers. “What’re you doing?” You muttered to the bird quietly. Sprite merely made his little ko-aw noise. So you peeked through the glass to see what the mischievous little bird was doing and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.

Jinu was standing on top of a chair in the middle of his room, swinging a pillow pathetically at the floor every now and then before instantly regretting it and going back to using it as a shield. On the floor, maybe a dozen or two dozen spiders were crawling along the floor. They weren’t that big, maybe an inch or so big, but they were black and fuzzy with little pincers. One stopped at the base of the chair, looking up at the man. The two stared at each other for a moment, Jinu’s eyes wide and his pupils shrunk. Then the little spider hissed and Jinu jumped, shrieking.

You snorted, sliding the balcony door open easily, “Okay, Sprite, that’s enough. Don’t want to make too much of a ruckus." Jinu’s head whipped around to you as Sprite made a rattling noise that kind of sounded like a laugh before all the spiders faded out of existence. After a moment, you spoke again, “Y’know, you should lock your balcony. Never know who might just come in.”

Jinu still didn’t say anything.

“Nice pants.”

Jinu looked down, his face turning red when he remembered that he was wearing his custom Derpy and Sussie lounge pants that had little hearts and hats around their chibi figures. He tried to scramble down from the chair, “What’re you—“

You winced when he tripped and tumbled from atop the chair as the desk chair with wheels rolled while he was trying to get down. “…Are you okay…?”

He continued to lay face down on his carpet. “…Yeah.” After he took a deep breath, Jinu pushed himself up and looked at her. “What are you doing here?”

You nodded to where Arson was sitting at the bottom of Derpy’s cat tower, the two animals in a strange staring contest. “Arson came to get me when Sprite started his mischief. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Jinu shook his head, habitually answering, “It’s fine.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. He had never had a girl in his space like this before. He wasn’t sure if you being a demon made it better or worse.

You pursed your lips awkwardly and wandered further into his room, “So… what’cha doing?”

Jinu stuttered, darting to his desk to shove some papers in a drawer. For some reason, he didn’t want you to see the draft of lyrics for the Saja Boys’ new song. And not because he didn’t want to ruin the surprise of the diss track. But because he…didn’t want you to see the hateful lyrics. “Nothing. Just, uh…just working on some songs.”

The two of you froze when there was a knock on his door. “Jinu? You alright in there?” Kwan’s voice sounded from the other side of the door.

“Hide!” Jinu hissed at you, grabbing Arson and shoving the two of you into his closet where all his casual clothes were kept. He slammed the door behind you and you heard him open the door, greeting his member.

You were a little frazzled, turning the flashlight on your phone on so you could see where Jinu had shoved you. You stopped when your light shined on a bookshelf against the wall across from you. It was full of containers. Full of tiny hats.

Meanwhile, Jinu was trying to smile normally at his fellow group member, “Hey, Kwan, what’s up?”

Kwan dubiously lifted a brow at his leader’s shifty behavior. “I heard you screaming like a girl.”

Jinu flushed at the reminder, “I saw a spider…” He admitted quietly.

Kwan snorted, teasingly pushing at his shoulder, “Dude, seriously?”

“It was big!” Jinu defended himself, “And I was working on the song so I didn’t notice it until it was two inches from me!”

Kwan just shook his head in amusement, “Do you need me to get it for you?”

“Nah, Derpy ate it,” Jinu fibbed. The two boys grimaced at the mental image of the cat eating a spider.

“Okay, well I’m heading to bed,” Kwan dismissed himself.

“Kay, night man,” Jinu waved him off.

“Night.”

Jinu shut the door with a sigh of relief, leaning his head against the door as he took a second to calm down. Then he went to the closet to let you out, only to pause when he opened the door. You were sitting on the ground with one of the containers from his shelf next to you, your phone flashing as you took Arson’s picture. The demonic canine was wearing one of Derpy’s crochet mushroom hats. It was too small for the dog but it was still absolutely adorable. Your delighted giggles were quiet and your smile was illuminated by the light of your phone screen.

It was endearing. Cute. Adorable even—and he didn’t mean Arson.

Jinu couldn’t help but smirk fondly and cross his arms, leaning against the doorframe, “Having fun?”

You nodded without looking at him, switching hats so you could take more pictures of Arson, “Yup.”

Jinu chuckled and shook his head, “Come on, you should go before one of the guys catches you here.” He ignored your little whine and pouty lips as he put the hats away and slid the container back into place on his shelf.

Despite your whining, you still stood with a little huff, “Fine. But I will be back for more tiny hats.”

“Sure,” Jinu agreed easily enough and walked you to the balcony, scratching Arson’s head in goodbye.

“Bye Jinu,” You waved with a smile.

He waved back, “Bye (Y/n).” Jinu watched you teleport away and Arson leapt from the balcony, Sprite flying off as well. He slid the balcony closed slowly, pulling the curtains shut once he did.

It was strange how normal he felt with you. His whole life revolved around hunting demons, sealing the Honmoon, and being an idol. But, with you he somehow felt like just another guy.

Sussie chirped and he looked at the bird. Sussie gave him a judging look.

“What?”

Sussie sighed.

~~~

The next time the awards rolled around, the Saja Boys ended up winning as most listened to that week thanks to their new song, ‘Stay Gold.’ As they were given flowers, the four of you clapped with smiles while the boys looked at you smugly. You girls remained unbothered though.

You finally got your chance to talk with the maknae of the boy group when the man left the Tower on his own for once and made his way into the city in disguise. He ducked into a grocery store and you followed him in, the maknae making a B-line straight to the snack and candy aisle.

You wandered past him casually, looking at all the different candies and snacks that you had no idea what they were. You grabbed a bag of rosé topokki chips. He was looking at spicy candies. “Those can’t be good,” You couldn’t help but remark.

Baby looked at you, surprised at your presence. But then he shrugged and went back to deliberating spicy candies. “I like it.”

You shrugged as well, going back to looking at the shelf full of candy for something sweet next. “To each their own.”

The two of you stood there, quietly for a long moment. You kept glancing at each other. “Any recommendations for something sweet but simple?” You eventually asked him, lost in all the flavors and brands.

He sighed like you asked him to do the most difficult thing in the world. He scanned over the options for a second before grabbing some chocolate, “Here.” He tossed it to you and you barely caught it, your heart stuttering at the sudden panic that you would drop it. He chuckled and finally made his own choice, putting one of the bags of candy back. He grabbed a drink, pointedly avoiding the Saja Boys themed soda just in the other cooler. The two of you quietly went to check out.

Jum didn’t have a lot of thoughts about you. You were very human but some moments reminded him that you were a demon. Like, struggling to choose what to get out of a sea of modern flavors. But he couldn’t get that look out of his head. When you had given up fighting them at the bathhouse or when he had asked you why you gave up when you asked them to meet you.

The two of you found a quiet spot to eat your snacks. He chuckled when he heard you hum when you first tried your chocolate. It seemed like you liked it. “We’re writing a song,” He found himself blurting out. “About demons.”

“Oh,” was all you could respond with, chewing slower. “Can’t imagine it’s a very nice song.”

Baby snorted, “It’s not. I can’t say I’m very happy about it.”

You looked over at him in surprise, “Why not?” You asked curiously.

He shrugged, “I worked hard on ‘Stay gold,’ we all did. It’s a song meant to bring us closer together and to our fans but…” he trailed off, shrugging again. “And I work hard on my rapping, our lyrics and a lot of it gets censored or shut down by production because it doesn’t ’fit the image.’” Baby rolled his eyes, citing words it seemed like he had heard a million times over. “The trainers’ idea.”

“I get it,” You told him. He turned his head to look at you dubiously, “I do. I understand some of how you feel. You gotta play a part, a role you don’t like or really fit but you still have to play it.”

Baby was quiet for a moment, just looking at you. Observing and analyzing your expression for a sign that you were lying. But you weren’t. So he nodded, “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Can I call you Jum…?” You slowly asked him, fidgeting with the wrapper in your hands. With the other guys, they had given their names to use, but with Baby, after what he had just told you, it didn’t feel right to refer to him as the role he didn’t like to play.

His lips twitched up into a smile, “Yeah. Just when we’re alone though.”

You jokingly rolled your eyes, “Obviously.”

He snorted fondly, “Obviously.”

The two of you continued to eat your snacks contently.

~~~

That night, you ended up staring up at the ceiling above your bed for a long while, mindlessly running your fingers through Arson’s fur.

You were doing good. You were getting closer to the boys like you had been told to do. You were one step closer to finishing this and forgetting all the memories that still gripped your heart like barbed wire. But… there was a growing sense of wrongness.

It was hard to hear yourself think over the quiet hiss of old memories and whispers of Gwi Ma’s voice. However, with the boys, the volume became quieter, duller and easier to ignore somehow.

You felt like you were going crazy.

You couldn’t let your mind linger on them like this, not when the next step of the girls’ plan was coming up. The Saja Boys were having their first fan event in a while soon and you all planned to crash it and take it over. You had to be ready to see all of them at once, to watch for the little cracks in their group so you could split them open when the time came.

You ignored the twisting in your chest.

A/N: When Kwan says that you must’ve looked gorgeous before your patterns, he’s not trying to be an asshole, he’s just thinking in the context that you must’ve grown up in where society wouldn’t have accepting any ‘deformities’ like the patterns. If that makes sense…?

Outtakes:

…

Bobby: “So what’ve you guys been up to lately?”

Hyeon: *Spending time with you*

Kwan: *Spending time with you*

Chungae: *Spending time with you*

Jinu: *Spending time with you*

Jum: *Spending time with you*

Saja Boys: …

Saja Boys: “Nothing much.” “Boring stuff.” “Gym.” “Sleeping.” “Song stuff.”

…

Zoey: “Hey, should we be doing our jobs and trying to get closer to the boys?”

You: *Emotionally conflicted, struggling, juggling five men*

Polytr/x: *cuddling on the couch watching romcoms*

Polytr/x: “Nah, it’s fine.”

…

Saja Boys: *side eyeing each other while contemplating sharing that they’ve been spending time with you but don’t want to admit they have for fear of being yelled at for not killing a demon*

You: *narrowing your eyes at the idiots* “Guys. Communication.”

…

Tag List: @jaybbygrl @aurorab-0-realis @minthoneynbasil @thatonegrimm @n0tbelle @reverie-sxno @gremlinartstudio @littlepotaaatosimp @mvskedxrtist @lluxentzz @closehereyes @lyunsafebubble @ashleygryffindor @whimsiecat @towfuu1 @thesimpbella @fries11 @lov3ly-3m @teenyfinds @arieslucy @boldlyenchantingfox22 @mel3484 @lizzymizzy-blogg @fastleopard1521 @cultish-corner @kitkatpattywack2808 @tsukimoon-chan @alleakimlala @yandereobsession @sherzzzzz @otherworldlover @hawarun @f1shst1xx @avadakadabra93 @moonthesleepyhead @sra7riddle-malfoy @beautifulpeoplebeautifulpr0blems @boo-shalala @venommie @magical-spit @neverending-animelove @nerdsconquerall @eli1412 @imjusthereforthecake @moochiwoochi @a-writer-with-anxiety @sexually-attracted-to-pans @katzline @uniquecutie-puffs @forgetfulsmols

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ilyasorokinn · 1 day ago

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clark kent’s love language , clark kent

note, y'all i've loved this man since 2019. i'm so glad everyone is hopping on this train fr. ALSO, i know women are capable of saving themselves, but i'm desperately single, and want a knight of shining armor of my own. so what better than to write about a 6'5 knight in shining armor. pair, clark kent / superman (2025) x reader summary, clark thinks his love language is to keep you safe. he likes to check in on you every once in a while during the day. one afternoon, his daily check-in's prove to be necessary. warnings, grocery store robbery, guns word count, 1479 words

(gif not mine)

Clark Kent liked to make sure you were okay.

It's just the type of person he was. He cared deeply for the people around him. You, he cared more deeply than anyone he'd ever met. So, throughout the day, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

Every so often, he would zero in on your voice overtop the overlapping voices of Metropolis. The second he heard your voice, even if you were reprimanding a student, a wave of calm would wash over him.

This wasn't something you were aware of. You knew of his alter ego, and would always dread when he would fly into the night, donning a cape and a large 'S' on his chest, but you knew it was who Clark was.

Saving and helping the people of Metropolis was in his blood. But there was always that little pit of worry that settled in the bottom of your stomach when you would kiss him goodbye and hope he came back in one piece.

You knew he worried about you, especially with the rising crime rates. It wasn't something he voiced, but he never liked to bother you with his heroic duties. So, instead, you learned to read him. Read his responses, read his reactions, read how actions.

Sometimes, Clark would find it hard to sleep, having awful nightmares of you getting injured or worse, ending up in a position because of him.

So, he made it his duty to take care of you, even if you insisted you didn't need him to look over your shoulder for you.

Today was no different.

He sat at his desk, frantically typing away at his computer as he tried to figure out a good hook for his newest article. He checked the clock, and his heart began racing.

2:25.

2:30 was the exact time he would check on you, right on the dot (He was punctual like that). His co-worker picked up on his brief breaks and knew that Clark Kent would go outside at exactly 2:30 every day. What he did, they never knew, and although they were curious, they wouldn't pry it out of him.

He pushed his chair out, stretching his legs, then reaching for his water bottle that was sitting on his desk. It was a gag gift you had gotten him for Christmas one year. A Superman-themed water bottle that he proudly brought to work every day.

It was so obviously a children's water bottle, but he proudly brought it in every day because it was a gift you had gotten him, even if it was a joke.

"Heading down for your break, Clark?" Jimmy Olsen teased, looking up from his own desk.

"You know it." Clark chuckled, straightening his tie before pushing his chair in and heading for the elevator.

He pressed the 'G' button, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he waited to reach the bottom floor. Once the door opened, he took his time heading for the back entrance where he would go for his daily breaks.

He first made sure the alley was empty before closing his eyes. He cracked his neck, taking a breath and focusing. His brows furrowed together as he tried to find your voice.

This morning, you decided to call in sick to work, needing a break from the needy voices of children you taught every day. It was just one of those days when you needed a break and not walk into a room where 20 kids were clamoring for your attention.

As he zeroed in on your voice, it was like every voice around him, every voice in the city, was being sucked up by a vacuum, disappearing the moment he put any effort into shutting them off.

"Sir!" That caught his attention. The desperation was clear in your voice, and it made his heart pick up. He also didn't miss the loud and erratic beating of your heart.

"Shut up!" The man in question snarled back. Your heart sped up, and that was enough for him.

In the blink of an eye, gone was his work attire, and he was launching into the sky, red cape billowing below him. He flew through the sky, trying to locate where you were.

You weren't at home, he knew that. Definitely not at work. Not visiting any friends.

Where were you?

Finally, the voices started clearing up, and he knew he was getting closer. He tilted his head to the side as he landed.

A grocery store?

"Empty the registers, or I'll light this place up!" The man demanded, waving his gun around like it was going to protect him.

Superman busted through the doors, "You know, there's a help wanted sign on the front door. You could've just applied." The superhero raised a brow at the robber.

You would recognize that voice anywhere, and you knew, sooner than later, Clark would've heard. Your head shot up, and you looked over at him. There he stood, in all of his glory, cape blowing in the wind behind him as he stood up tall.

"Superman?" The robber looked confused to see the man standing in front of him. He was only a flimsy supermarket robber, not a scientist trying to blow up a building.

"But, I guess when you're holding a gun in everyone's face, that gets you what you want." Superman shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face.

The robber, stupidly, held up his gun and took his aim. He shot off once, watching in horror as the bullet simply bounced off Superman's chest.

"Uh-oh." Superman took one step, smacking the gun out of the robber's hand.

Minutes went by, and sirens could be heard heading in the direction of Metropolis Grocers. The cops walked in and didn't hide their surprise when they found Superman looming over the attempted robber.

"Superman." The officers looked confused.

"Officers." The man greeted with a nod, "I'm sure you're capable of dealing with this..." He trialed off, simply shaking his head.

"Yes, sir." The officer nodded, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and handcuffing the man in front of them.

More officers began arriving, taking statements from witnesses and offering medical attention to the one person who ended up getting injured in the crossfire.

You leaned against your car by yourself, your arms wrapped around yourself as you waited for your turn to talk to an officer. You heard someone approaching, whose footsteps told you they were worried but were trying not to hide it.

You looked up and couldn't help but smile in relief when you saw Clark standing in front of you, wearing what he had gone to work in that morning.

"Boy, it's good to see you." You joked, wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his warmth.

"You're telling me." He sounded just as relieved, "How are you feeling? Did he hurt you?" He pulled away, cupping your face so he could look you over for injuries.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." You reassured him, brushing his hands off, "A little shaken up, but he didn't hurt me. I'm okay." You shook your head.

"Are you sure?"

"I just really want to go home." You admitted shakily. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around you again, kissing your head and hugging you.

You melted into his arms, engulfed in his warmth and his scent. After a traumatic ordeal, the only thing you wanted was Clark.

"I'm gonna go talk to an officer, then we'll go home, okay?" You nodded apprehensively, "I promise." He reassured you again.

"I'll be here." You tried to joke, and he managed to give you a small smile.

You wrapped your arms around yourself again as you watched Clark approach an officer. They talked, Clark explaining what had happened to you, then he walked back over to you.

"Give me your keys." He demanded, holding his hand out. You handed him your keys, and he walked you over to the passenger side. He opened the door for you and waited for you to get in.

He climbed into the driver's side, wincing when he got in, and his knees were up to his chest. He cranked the seat back, sitting slightly more comfortably, then glancing over at you.

"What were you even doing here?" He asked the question that had been on his mind.

"Wanted to make you something special for dinner. "You shrugged, "Guess the universe didn't want me cooking today." You joked.

"Yeah, it was the universe doing us all a favor." He smiled when you let out a small laugh, "We'll go home and I'll make you some grilled cheese."

"And..."

"A side of tomato soup." He finished your sentence with a smile, "I'm gonna take care of you. Don't worry." He reassured, reaching over for your hand and placing a soft kiss on your palm.

add yourself to my taglist!

i know this is short but TRUST i have more stuff coming 🙂‍↕️

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coolwyous · 2 days ago

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┈─★ 𝘩𝘪𝘫𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘪 (𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺'𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you and daniela have been divorced for years, keeping cordial for the sake of co-parenting your perfect angel of a daughter. but when a snowstorm traps you in a cabin with your ex-wife, you realize there might be more unfinished business than you care to explore.

ˎˊ˗ ❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🔓୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: hockey daddy!daniela avanzini x f!reader

➴ genre + wc: 7k, pining, bickering, parenting!au, daniela is our fuckass baby daddy/ex-wife, we hate her but she wants us back lowkey <3

┈─★ a/n: more daddy!kats! i highly encourage reading the college hockey!au verse this is based in! <3

sometimes, you wish you could be extremely fucked up for custody swaps. ideally, so blackout drunk that you can tune out any of daniela’s annoying comments or innuendos she so relentlessly throws at you, as if you haven’t been broken up for years at this point.

but you have a teenage daughter you need to be a role model for, and you sure as hell know your ex-wife is severely lacking in that department, so the responsibility falls to you. you bite your tongue and bear it: every friday, after school, one week on and one week off as per the custody agreement written in your divorce.

you see the stupid cherry-red mustang pull up along the curb of your house. the house, now yours, but once hers too, the house that she used to share with you and esme, before she had moved out following the divorce.

you wish you could say she was a terrible parent, or that your daughter hated her time with her other parent, but esme is beaming from ear to ear as the two of them roll to a stop. the car is blasting with a classic reggaeton song that they’re both head-banging to. seeing the two of them laughing, swinging their heads around, curls flying in sync, even down to the stupid dimple your daughter inherited might actually warm your heart.

(at least it would, if daniela wasn’t 15 minutes late to the swap, as she always is.)

“you could have at least tried to be on time today. the twins’ birthday trip is this weekend,” you remind her, gritting your teeth as dani steps out of the car to give esme a hug. “we have to leave before the road gets bad. if you can’t reach esme, text lara. service might be spotty on the mountain. i’ll go get her sunday morning.”

esme gives you a quick hug and a kiss on your cheek before running inside to grab her things for the trip.

“i remember, i remember. see you next week, hermosa,” daniela waves esme off. she reaches out to you with open arms, peering at you over her sunglasses with that infuriating smirk. “what, no hug for daddy?”

you roll your eyes, ignoring her. you focus instead on esme, who runs out of the door with her suitcase. you focus on helping your daughter pull her suitcase down the curb and towards the sidewalk, hoping it’ll help you ignore your aggravating ex.

“i’ll order the uber in a few minutes, esme. are your hearing aids charged, baby? i’ll ask auntie megan to bring her spare batteries if they haven’t left yet,” you offer, pulling out your phone.

“uber?” daniela arches a brow. her arms cross over her chest. “isn’t the cabin like an hour and a half away?”

you glare at her. “my car is in the shop and the rental isn’t ready until tomorrow.”

“sorry again, mami,” esme grimaces.

“baby, don’t apologize. i’m so glad you’re going on this trip,” you reassure her, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

for as head-strong as you are and as hot-headed as daniela is, you two were lucky to end up with the most considerate, mild-mannered child you could have possibly imagined. esme is shy, thoughtful, and had never gone through a phase of terrible twos or moody pre-teen years. she’s always been the most insanely sweet kid, never causing any trouble, and you couldn’t be more grateful for her. for all the chaos in your relationship with daniela, your daughter was never something you’d regret, not for a second.

“an hour and a half uber? i have today off,” daniela interjects, looking down at her watch. “i can drop you guys there.”

the offer is generous, sure, but the idea of being stuck in the car with daniela sends a shiver of horror down your spine. the last time you two had been together for longer than 10 minutes was for esme’s parent teacher conferences, and even the hour of those felt like torture, always ending in you two bickering.

“that’s almost three hours,” you point out.

“i don’t want to throw off your plans,” esme shakes her head.

dani reaches out to grab your daughter by the chin, squeezing her cheeks playfully.

“hey, no. i’d do anything for this face.”

the girl lights up at the offer.

you freeze, but the way esme seems genuinely excited is enough to make you swallow your pride. it’s not about you, you remind yourself, it’s about your daughter. you can play nice with your ex-wife if it means making your daughter this happy to have both parents for a little longer.

“fine,” you say simply, reaching for the suitcase to help throw it into the trunk.

esme wraps daniela up in a giant hug, burying her face in your ex-wife’s chest. “no way! thank you, papi.”

you pause. maybe you can give her the benefit of the doubt. could dani be turning a new leaf?

“your turn to thank papi,” daniela smirks at you, reaching out once more.

your face drops. nope. same old stupid daniela avanzini.

“not a chance in hell,” you roll your eyes. “just get in the damn car.”

daniela’s eyes, still hidden behind her sunglasses, are focused on the road, the white of the snow painting the road up the mountainside towards the resort where the cabins await.

“thank you again,” esme pipes up from the backseat.

“no hay de qué, mi amor.” daniela shakes her head, peeking at the girl through the rearview mirror. “my wife and kid alone in a car with a stranger? stuck on the side of the mountain? in a snowstorm or something? the thought alone would have kept me up like a freakin’ nightmare.”

“ex-wife,” you remind her sharply.

daniela grins, shrugging. “meh. potato, potah-to.”

“tomato, divorce settlement, totally the same,” you snip back.

“mami’s coaching zuri’s cheer team this year,” esme randomly interjects. you try to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“yeah?” daniela grins, peering at you. “you got bit by the coaching bug all of a sudden, mami?”

“don’t piss me off, daniela,” you hiss back, hating when she uses the nickname.

“auntie megan convinced her,” esme explains. “she says she has a lot of fun coaching our hockey team. it’s less pressure than college level.”

“i’ve tried to get meiyok to come coach for us so many times. she always refuses. but a fucking high school hockey team she’s got all the time in the world for? insane,” daniela rolls her eyes. but as she sits on esme’s words, something seems to stick with her.

“pause. megan convinced you?”

you arch a brow back at her challengingly, seeing the way she bristles.

“and if she did?”

“did she?” daniela presses, her gaze unwavering.

“she’s always been my favorite between all of you,” you say simply. “her and yunjin.”

you see daniela’s jaw clench. maybe it’s immature, but you can’t help but grin to yourself at how the mere mention finally gets her to shut the hell up.

“auntie yunjin and auntie chaewon pitched in for me to go see a pro game,” esme offers gently. you realize she’s trying to salvage the conversation, knowing daniela’s longstanding beef with yunjin.

and it works. daniela instantly softens, esme’s gentle voice enough to disarm her and distract her from your guys’s standoff.

“they paid for you to get a ticket? mi amor, why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go to that game? i could have gotten you tickets,” daniela asks.

“um, i don’t know.” esme rubs the back of her neck nervously, her eyes screwing shut. “i’m gonna take my hearing aids out. my head hurts.”

“take a nap, baby,” you reassure her, reaching backwards to stroke her knee.

she nods, resting her head against the window. “love you guys.”

you quickly sign back an “i love you” and watch her as she closes her eyes. as soon as she takes her hearing aids out, you let out a groan.

“daniela,” you say sternly.

“y/n,” she responds. “love hearing you say my name like that. again, please.”

you have half a mind to punch her there and then, but knowing your ex, she’d probably somehow like it.

“she didn’t ask you because the huh-kim kids are going too and she knew you’d throw a fit.”

daniela blinks in surprise. “how do you know that?”

“because she told me,” you grit irritatedly. “our daughter actually talks to me.”

“she talks to me too. about lots. things going on inside my own house.” daniela pivots quickly, almost disarmingly fast. “are you still seeing that dude from your old job?”

“daniela,” you warn her. you empathize with esme in that moment. how difficult does dani make it to talk to her? you think back to your relationship, and the way it ended.

daniela has always been impossible to talk to. as much as you’d love to be a united front, you can’t blame your daughter for wanting to keep some things from her dad.

“what?” the brunette questions.

“i’m not talking about this with you.”

daniela squares her shoulders and focuses on the road.

“fine.”

the two of you manage to keep the peace for the rest of the drive, not wanting to disturb your sleeping daughter. by the time daniela pulls the mustang into the parking lot, the snow is coming down decently hard. esme runs excitedly to go join her friends who wave to her from the window of the main cabin, having been watching her arrival.

“y/n, hi!” lara beams, greeting you as you emerge from the car. “wifey’s inside setting ground rules for the girls. no exploring the woods after midnight type shit, you know.”

“who all came?” daniela asks, eyeing the area curiously.

“josie, esme, the twins obviously, arin, and kj.”

“no boys?” daniela asks.

lara shakes her head. “girls trip only.”

“that’s sweet,” you smile.

if there is anything good that came out of your marriage to daniela, it was also the community of her friends and their families. the tiny village that surrounded esme made it that much easier to trust that she was in good hands. she’s kept the same best friends since she was a baby, and being the youngest of the group, you feel reassured that she’s got good people keeping their eyes on her, both the kids and their parents.

“no,” lara wrinkles her nose in irritation. “it was the only way we could keep zuri from begging to bring her little boyfriend.”

“oh god,” dani says, running a hand through her hair. “i’m not ready for the whole dating thing.”

“esme’s cabin is down this way,” lara says “but they’ll honestly all probably spend the whole trip in the twin’s cabin.”

daniela wrinkles her nose. “waste of money, bro. if you knew they’d sleep over why’d you get them individual cabins?”

“honestly? zuri and priya have been fighting a lot recently. sometimes over literally nothing, bro. i wanted everyone to have somewhere to run away to if they have one of their little twin spats on this trip,” lara breathes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “the beauty of teenagers, right?”

you laugh, giving lara one last hug before you and daniela turn to head back to the car. but before you can warn her to behave, a man is placing bright yellow cones by the parking lot exit, roping it off from the main road.

“the road’s closed!” he calls out to you all. you and daniela exchange looks of disbelief.

“what!?”

“ice too thick,” he says simply, motioning up to the snowbanks blocking up parts of the road. “it’ll take the snowplow until the morning to get up here.”

“oh hell no,” you groan, throwing your head back in irritation. just your fucking luck, stuck on a mountain with your aggravating ex-wife.

“you can stay with us, dani,” lara immediately offers, realizing what this means for you both.

“no, you guys have your hands full chaperoning,” she waves lara off. “we can stay at esme’s cabin.”

“together?” you question, nearly in disbelief at how calmly she’s taking this.

she shrugs, letting out a sharp breath.

“do you have a better option?”

you bite your tongue, and pray it’s a short night. knowing daniela, however, it probably won’t be.

esme chews anxiously on her lower lip. outside, the snow falls, mounting up on the windowsill. the three of you are crammed into the queen sized bed, esme in the middle, but you don’t mind. anything to spend more time with your daughter is a win in your book.

“i’m sorry you’re stuck here,” the girl apologizes, her eyes darting between the two of you on either side of her.

“if i have to be stuck anywhere, i’m grateful it’s with you,” you reassure her.

“i love you,” she beams, resting her head on your shoulder. the three of you lay side by side, backs propped up against the headboard.

“well, we’ve got all night, so let’s start killing some time,” daniela grins, poking your daughter in the stomach. “esme. any crushes?”

the question catches the both of you off guard. you feel your eyes go wide.

“um…” esme’s eyes dart to you.

“what, something you’re not telling me?” daniela prods, still playful. she tilts her head. “you’re keeping secrets from your bestie?”

“n-no,” esme quickly scrambles.

daniela arches a brow suspiciously. “is it a he?”

“no,” esme blinks.

“oh thank god.”

“daniela,” you warn.

“what? i have two criteria— no huhs and no teen pregnancy.”

esme blinks between the two of you, squinting as she gets up and heads towards the bathroom. “i’m gonna go wash my face.”

once the door closes behind her, you glare at your ex-wife.

“have you ever actually talked to her about any of this?” you question.

“what?”

“dani, you and your daughter have a great relationship, but you need to stop acting like she’s going to be 4 years old forever.” you shake your head. “the more you try to shelter her, the more she’s going to act out and keep things from you.”

“she’s…” daniela’s argument trails off, and you continue.

“and we need to suck it up, for her sake. she was probably excited to go have a weekend away from us, and now she’s stuck feeling like she has to babysit because we can’t be cordial with each other for more than 5 minutes without fighting,” you sigh, realizing how anxious she must be with the change in plans.

“she looks like she’s having fun,” dani pushes back.

“she’s 16,” you remind dani. “we’re ruining her trip. she was probably excited to sneak a bottle of alcohol and get tipsy with her little friends.”

daniela instantly bristles. “no fucking way. she’s too young for that.”

“daniela, you’re forgetting that you were almost an alcoholic your freshman year of college. that didn’t happen overnight.” you remind her. “better safe and in a controlled environment than going buckwild rebelling against parents.”

dani runs a hand through her dark hair, her nose flaring. “this parenting shit is so stressful. maybe i do owe your pops an apology. i might actually be the reason he’s bald.”

“i did enough of that on my own, before you,” you can’t help but laugh.

you see something mischievous flash in her eyes.

“bad girl.”

“don’t fucking start,” you roll your eyes. “that shit has to stop, for 24 hours, for our daughter.”

“what do you mean?” dani feigns ignorance.

“we spend all our time together arguing instead of focusing on her.”

“i’m not arguing with you. i’m flirting with you.”

“no, you’re intentionally trying to push my buttons. enough. get your head out of your ass. esme deserves our best. she is the perfect child,” you remind your ex.

“you’re right. parent mode activated.” dani lets out a deep breath. “fuck.”

“thank you,” you nod, grateful your pleas got through to her.

she looks at you, something softening in her gaze. “thanks for believing i could be better.”

you pause, realizing the sincerity in her voice. old dani, coming back in familiar flashes. “then i should tell you something.”

“oh.” she grins. “you’re still in love with me.”

“you lasted a whole 10 seconds. you’re so annoying.” you groan, throwing your head back, but you persist, knowing this piece of information is pretty significant for your co-parent to know about. “she has a crush on arin.”

“huh’s kid?” you see dani’s eyes widen. “the captain?”

“yes,” you nod. “but arin’s not very nice to her. that kid is built different. she’s not nice to anyone.”

dani lets out a low whistle. “she’s damn fucking good on the ice, is the worst part.”

“esme likes arin, but i think one of the other girls has a crush on esme.”

“which one?”

you laugh, realizing how silly you two must look. “christ, we sound ridiculous. gossiping like we’re the teenagers.”

“fuck.” dani wrinkles her nose, but she smiles back at you. “yeah we sound nosy as hell. but don’t leave me hanging. esme likes arin, arin’s a shit-head but i could have told you that with the parent she’s got, and some other kid likes esme?”

“one of her teammates,” you whisper. “you’ll pick up on it if you pay attention.”

“god, i’m not ready for this.” daniela buries her face into the pillow. “i can’t fucking do this.”

the door swings back open, and you and dani share a look to agree to put this conversation on pause.

“i’m back,” esme waves.

“hi baby,” you greet her.

her eyes dart between the two of you suspiciously. “you guys okay?”

“great, actually,” daniela jumps in. “we were talking about your friends.”

“oh god.” esme drops back in between you and daniela, covering her face with her hands.

“no, all good,” dani reassures her. “max is applying to the university this year.”

esme nods. “so is seongwook.”

you lean towards dani, filling her in on the tea between their little friend group. “wookie. zuri’s boyfriend. arin’s brother.”

“huh’s kid.” you see dani’s eye twitch, but you’re proud as she quickly pivots away. “if you applied, i bet you’d get in on hockey. three generations there, you, me, and your grandpa. it’d be pretty cool, no?”

“i’m not that good, papi,” esme shakes her head.

“esme, your team is second in the conference,” daniela reminds your daughter. “you’re the strongest left wing in the state. anywhere would kill to have you play for them.”

your heart warms at dani’s affirmations. when esme had first started playing, and megan recommended her at left wing, daniela’s first response was apprehension. that was her position, and daniela reminded megan of all the injuries she had sustained. but megan had been quick to remind her that esme was tiny, but she was fast and she was smart, and when she hits the ice with josie at center, they two kids are just as good as she and megan were at their age.

“thanks,” esme drops her gaze shyly, and dani reaches out once more to play with her hair.

“i watch all your games,” she tells your daughter. “and if i can’t make it, i watch those tapes like my life depends on it.”

“really?”

dani smiles. “hell yes, mi amor.”

“but you’re so busy.”

“never too busy for you,” dani insists.

“i didn’t know that,” esme admits.

“got your back, kiddo.”

before you can realize that you’re staring, esme’s phone goes off in between all of you. she holds it up apologetically.

“um, priya is calling me. i think her and zuri are fighting again. can i take it?”

“of course, mi amor,” dani nods, and esme bolts off to take the phone call.

daniela watches her rush to the twin’s aid and sighs. “she’s such a good kid. got so lucky with her.”

“she’s always there for her friends.” you breathe out quietly. “gets that from you.”

daniela’s eyes light up, turning immediately to narrow her eyes at you. “did you just compliment me?”

“you were shit at being consistent for me, but every time megan was in crisis, there you were, taking her to the ice, calming her down.” you recall all those late nights where dani would drop everything just to support whoever needed it. “whenever lara had some grand scheme she got up to, you never questioned it. you’d go along with it.”

“you were also a great friend. loyal. it’s what drew me to you,” daniela tells you, her voice softening. “it was cool to hear that you cared that much about the people in your life. honestly, i just thought you just had a bad attitude.”

“and i thought you only cared about yourself,” you smile.

daniela’s voice does something bizarre, hardening and softening all at once. you can tell you’ve hit a nerve.

“i tried caring about other things too, you know.”

you feel your chest tighten, and before you can stop yourself, you’re already saying it.

“you stopped trying.”

“i did.” she nods solemnly, and the accountability makes your heart ache. “i’m sorry.”

before you can say anything else, esme pops back inside, her big brown eyes looking between you hesitantly.

“they’re asking if i can come over to their cabin, and spend the night,” she starts, slowly, pausing as if to choose her words, before holding up her hands. “but i don’t have to if you guys aren’t okay with that.”

“we’ll be okay here, mi amor,” dani nods.

“um… i know you guys don’t hang out alone any more,” esme admits quietly, looking to you specifically. “i feel bad.”

“we’ll be fine,” you nod reaching to her to press a kiss to her head. “we’ll catch up.”

“promise?” she breathes.

“you can trust me, baby,” dani nods.

esme lights up as she reaches for her backpack, giving you both a tight hug before escaping out to join her friends, leaving you and dani alone in the cabin.

you figure it won’t kill you to be cordial, so you try to start with small talk.

“how’s coaching going?”

“i don’t think you wanna hear it,” dani laughs, rubbing her nose.

“since when do you censor yourself?” you question, narrowing your eyes at her.

there’s distance between you, but that doesn’t stop you from taking her in. her eyes are heavier, darker, and granted you’re both older now, but she still has that dangerous dimple and that mischievous smile that makes you remember exactly what you fell in love with. her dark brown curls, now back to her natural hair color, pulled up and out of her face. you take in the lines, the creases, the face you had once said yes to no matter what. the face you had picked, over and over, time and time again. the face you pictured being alongside for forever.

“your dad hates me as head coach. he’s taking that promotion super personally,” she confesses.

you scrunch your nose. your father and your ex-wife working together was never ideal, but it’s your reality, and you know how difficult your dad can be. “i’ll talk to him.”

“that’s the last thing i need,” dani laughs, waving you off. “i can talk to him myself.”

you take a second, thinking about dani’s relationship with your dad. you had seen it first hand for yourself all those years ago— how badly you knew he would have preferred lara as captain, how hard he was on dani, how much pressure he put on her and how little he believed in her capabilities. he was always intense as a coach, and you know that, but he had been extremely hard on dani as a player.

and unfortunately, things only got worse when you started dating. whereas your mom had always welcomed dani with open arms, and your brothers loved having another hockey buff in the family, your dad had never shifted in his stance, treating dani like she couldn’t be trusted despite all the things she had done to give you the most perfect, beautiful romance possible. you’ve made peace with the fact that you and daniela are over, but there’s no doubt in your mind that she was absolutely the love of your life, and realizing that that’s over is admittedly a tough pill to swallow.

“is he part of it?” you finally ask, feeling your stomach flip into a knot. “part of why you gave up?”

you see dani’s temples tighten, her brows tensing. she could make a joke, lighten the conversation, avoid the topic altogether, but she doesn’t. she addresses it head-on, unafraid, ready to be vulnerable.

“he told me i was gonna ruin esme’s life. i already ruined yours.” you hear the rasp in her voice. she can’t manage to look at you. “you called him that night, when i left.”

“i was scared you would do something stupid,” you admit, remembering the night you had first given dani the divorce papers after months of trying to save her from herself. “i was scared you weren’t coming home in one piece that night. i didn’t know what to do. esme was so little, you were in such a bad headspace, i didn’t know what else to do.”

her face is stony as she stares down at the foot of the bed. “you could have called megan. you could have called lara.”

your throat tightens and dries as you blink back memories of that night. just how angry daniela was as she stormed out, not knowing where she was going, how scared you were for her.

“i panicked. i made the wrong choice, and i’m sorry.”

“i put you in a horrible position.” she shakes her head, and you appreciate that she acknowledges the severity of the situation you were forced to face. “but i think when your dad got involved, that was it. that was the beginning of the end. like you stopped believing in us.”

“dani, that’s not fair. you know i pushed him out whenever he was bad to you. i didn’t even tell him when we eloped. that was just between us for months,” you push back. yes, he was a strain on your relationship, but you had always chosen dani over him, no matter what. “this wasn’t all on me, or on him.”

daniela chews on her bottom lip, her only real anxious habit for an otherwise confident facade.

“i cared too much about what he thought. kept thinking about his voice, in my head, that i would never be good enough for you.”

“all you needed to do was try,” you tell her, watching the way her face tenses in clear distress. “dani, that would have been good enough.”

“i didn’t trust myself to get it right,” she admits. “when esme heard us screaming that night…”

you grimace thinking about it. esme was so, so little, coming out in the middle of the night to ask if everything was okay, seeing your face streaked in tears and daniela on the verge of a breakdown. your yelling must have been strong enough to vibrate through the walls to wake her up.

“that was it,” she finishes. “confirmation. your dad was right. i wasn’t good enough to get through this without hurting anyone.”

you and your ex have had a few conversations here and there about how things ended, but never before has dani given you this level of reflection. your conversations were always limited to your daughter, given that daniela has the emotional intelligence of a literal child, but you catch glimpses of the old her here and there, a version of her who faced challenges head on and confronts everything with a mindset of getting through it, no matter what.

“you’re so hard on yourself, dani,” you sigh, knowing who daniela is at her core, beneath all her bravado. she’s passionate, she’s intense, and worst of all, she wants to be someone who might never be obtainable. “i never wanted you to be anyone else, i never needed you to be perfect. i just needed you to show up.”

“i had everything, and i fucked it up,” she breathes, before finally looking up at you. “i haven’t dated since that.”

“don’t tell me that,” you roll your eyes. leave it to her to ruin the moment.

she shakes her head, almost earnestly. “i’m serious, y/n. and you can do so, so much better than the guy from your old HR department.”

“daniela, he gave me a ride home once and that was it,” you groan, realizing she’ll never drop this topic. “we were never dating.”

“esme told me about how you let him inside.”

“yes, to offer him a coffee,” you emphasize. it was one time, and it was an act of kindness, but daniela continues to treat it like you agreed to marry him. “i’m allowed to offer people coffee inside my own home. he left immediately after.”

“that’s my home, and my family.” she sits up, her gaze intensifying. you thought at first that she was joking, but you quickly realize she’s dead serious. “and that was my bed, once upon a time.”

“the whole territorial thing is so not fucking cute, daniela.” you roll your eyes and push her away, scooting further from her. “it’s gross, if anything, you possessive weirdo.”

but daniela isn’t letting up.

“y/n, if i ever find out someone else has been in that bed, in my bed, i’ll fucking kill them.”

“shut up, daniela,” you groan.

“listen to me,” she drops her gaze. “i will kill them.”

“we are not together, and that’s not your bed.” you’ve had enough of her constant whiplashing you, switching so quickly between someone who makes it easy to remember why you once were so obsessed with her, then transforming into someone you wish you had never met. “i can’t fucking stand you, dani. so arrogant.”

“you’re always going to be the mom of my kid,” she reminds you, unphased by you moving away as she simply scoots closer. her eyes are sharp, intense, like she’s on a mission to prove a point. “that makes you mine in some way.”

ooh. if there’s anything about your ex wife, it’s that she knows how to make your fucking blood boil, and she has since day 1.

“i don’t belong to you,” you spit back harshly.

“you know that’s a damn lie,” daniela snaps back with lightning fast speed.

“you’re so fucking irritating,” you seethe.

“you miss me pissing you off all the time,” she grits back. “miss me being under your skin.”

“i most definitely do not,” you tell her. “my life got so much easier when you left.”

“i don’t believe you,” she bites back.

“you don’t have to,” you snap, realizing this is what she wants. she wants to get into the back and forth with you, wants to get a rise out of you. “believe whatever you want. i don’t have to prove anything to you.”

and then, something in her face changes, like a dam breaking. her face tenses.

daniela cracks.

“there’s no way you don’t think about me, ‘cause i think about you, all the damn time,” she finally confesses.

the absolute ache in her words makes your stomach drop. it disarms you. “dani.”

“i miss you when your dad calls me a shit-head, and i remember how much love you used to say it to me with,“ she laughs, but there’s something painful in her voice. “or when i drive and the air is up too high, and it reminds me of when i used to drive you home in lara’s car from our place.”

you want to ask her to stop, not because you can’t handle hearing it, but because you can’t handle seeing her like this. since your divorce, you had worked through all the feelings involved with letting daniela go, hardest of all being the expectation that you had to fix her. but here she is, looking so small, so vulnerable, all of a sudden you’re back to when you first met and you realized the hockey team captain with a terrible reputation wasn’t bad at all. just painfully, dangerously misunderstood.

“sometimes it’s hard sharing a daughter with you, ‘cause she’s perfect, but she’s perfect because she’s got all the best parts of you, and i look at her, and it makes me miss you,” she goes on. “and i miss you the most when esmeralda laughs, ‘cause she laughs like you do, and it’s like we’re 21 and i’m hitting backflips in your front yard just to make you smile at me even for just a second.”

you absolutely hate how easy it is for you to fold for her in that exact moment. what, all it takes is some vulnerability, some nostalgia, and now you’re imagining letting her back into your arms? she can put you through absolute hell, but all you need is a quick sob story from her to feel your heart tug in her direction again?

the fact is that you loved her, and she loved you. you try to make peace with that and hope you can keep yourself from doing anything stupid.

“i think we should go to sleep,” you finally manage, peeking out the window to see that the sun has dropped out of sight. you’re not sure how long you and your ex-wife have been talking, but clearly it was enough to keep you focused.

she blinks a few times, nodding as she looks away. “yeah, guess you’re right. i’ll take the couch.”

but before she can get out of the bed (or perhaps before you can think about it) the words rush out of your mouth.

“don’t.”

you see her brows furrow in confusion. “don’t?”

it’s one word, so simple, but it carries the weight of everything left unsaid between you two. you nod, curling up underneath the covers, before letting your voice soften.

“don’t.”

you half-expect her to say something stupid, but without further fanfare, she’s slipping into the bed behind you, the weight of the mattress shifting. it’s foreign and familiar all at once, but once her arm wraps gently around your waist and you feel the warmth of her body pressed against yours, all you can think of is just how undeniably, head-over-heels in love you two were, once upon a time.

you let out a soft breath as her familiar touch causes all the stress in your body to melt away. her hand rests innocently on your waist, but you want to make it abundantly clear that your intentions are pure.

“don’t get any stupid ideas.”

you can practically hear her grin.

“i’m nothing but stupid ideas.”

you roll your eyes, but all she does is pull you closer, and you’re not protesting.

“i will kill you, avanzini.”

“do you ever miss being mrs. avanzini?” she asks curiously.

“god, i should have divorced you sooner,” you groan.

“so you could remarry me again sooner?” she teases, shuffling to cuddle up behind you more comfortably. “true love finds a way.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but feel yourself dozing off, daniela’s comforting familiarity sending a sense of peace throughout your body. “can’t stand your annoying ass.”

“esme’s so perfect. tell me another baby doesn’t sound exciting…”

if you rolled your eyes any harder, they might just pop out of your head.

“good night, daniela.”

but instead of insisting on another stupid joke, she simply presses a tender kiss into the back of your neck. it’s not aggressive, or possessive, not meant to stir anything. it’s gentle, familiar, as if she’s wishing you a restful sleep. you remember it now— her old habit of a good night kiss whenever you guys would go to bed.

“good night, mami,” she whispers gently, holding you just a little tighter, before you both drift off.

you wake to the first sunbeams shining in through the window, striking you just across the eyes. daniela’s arms are still wrapped around you, anchoring you in place, and it almost breaks your heart to have to peel her off of you. you turn slightly to see her, eyes screwed shut, lips just barely parted, her chest rising and falling rhythmically against your back. it stirs something in you, but before you can explore it any further, you hear the rustle of the doorhandle.

daniela stirs, and the two of you quickly part as you realize your daughter is back, racing inside, her eyes lighting up as she spots the two of you still there in one piece, neither parent having killed the other overnight.

“good morning!” she greets excitedly, throwing herself in between the two of you. you laugh and think about how she’s never outgrown this habit, even squeezing between you two from when she was a little girl.

“hi mi amor,” daniela greets, her voice raspy from having just woken up. she presses a loving kiss into esme’s head and looks out the window. “snow looks like it’s clearing up. i’ll head down with your mom soon.”

esme’s eyes go wide in eager curiosity. “can we maybe get breakfast together? nobody else is awake. i just haven’t had you both in one place for so long.”

you and esme look between each other, before you exchange looks with daniela. you smile at your daughter. “of course my love.”

“thank you guys for being nice to each other,” she beams.

the three of you get ready and make your way to the main lodge for breakfast. you sit by a window, admiring the mountainside view, the snow melting under the warmth of the emerging sun.

“hey,” dani says gently, poking esme’s snow boot with her foot from under the table as you all enjoy your breakfast. “hope you had fun.”

“i did,” the girl nods happily.

“you’ll tell me about it another time?” dainela offers. “i’d love to hear. at your age, i was setting off fireworks in lara’s backyard and aiming them at her window.”

esme laughs. “auntie lara was telling us about that. said you’ve always been a menace.”

you’re half expecting for daniela to say something stupid, as she always does, but suddenly, she catches you off guard with an unexpected confession.

“esme, did you know auntie lara was my first kiss?”

“what?” you balk. this is news even to you. before you can question her further, you realize what she’s doing— she’s trying to give your daughter a safe space to open up.

“no way,” esme gapes in shock.

“gross to think about, right?” daniela laughs, wrinkling her nose. “we were just kids. a few of us on the team stole a bottle from her dad’s liquor cabinet one day, over the summer. we both threw up immediately afterwards.”

esme bursts out laughing. “that’s insane!”

daniela grins, shoveling another spoonful of eggs into her mouth. “i was a naughty kid, believe it or not.”

you shake your head, laughing. “trust me, she believes it.”

daniela smiles at you, before reaching you to hold esme’s hand from on top of the table.

“cariño, i don’t want you feeling like you have to keep things from me,” dani tells her gently.

the gesture is obviously enough to soothe esme, and whether it’s a parent’s instinct or blind intuition, daniela manages to say the exact perfect thing to get your daughter to clear her throat and look between the two of you nervously.

“i um… can i tell you something?”

“you okay?” you ask, looking at her in concern. “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

esme shakes her head, playing with a piece of fruit on her plate. you can tell something is bothering her as she musters up the courage to open up.

“arin and i kissed last night, during spin the bottle,” she finally confesses. “it was my first one.”

you see your ex twitch, her body tensing. “arin huh-kim?”

“daniela,” you warn, hoping to remind her of your guy’s expectations to be supportive and not difficult.

“i kind of regret it,” esme breathes, her gaze glued to the strawberry on her plate that she keeps poking about. “i thought it’d be more special, but she was so fast about it. like she was over it.”

“i’m sorry, mi amor,” daniela sighs.

“you’ll have a million chances to get a good first kiss,” you try to reassure her, sensing her disappointment. “one worth remembering.”

“you only get one first kiss,” esme frowns. “you didn’t forget yours, papi.”

“i forgot a lot about it. but i remember my favorite kiss,” daniela says. “i remember everything about it.”

esme’s eyes light up, but you can tell she’s hesitant about asking dani to open up and dive in. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“are you a romantic, esme?” daniela asks, taking a sip from her orange juice.

“yeah, i think so,” the girl smiles.

“where’d you think you got it from?” daniela puffs up her chest. “definitely not your hard-ass mom’s side. she’s one of the least sentimental women i’ve ever met.”

“watch it, avanzini,” you laugh.

“my favorite first kiss was right after a party,” daniela goes on, reminiscing, esme’s eyes going shiny as she clings to every word of dani’s story. “i had been wanting to kiss this girl so many times before. kept stopping myself. didn’t want to get it wrong. she was dancing with one of my teammates and i just butted in and stole her away. there were so many people there, but it felt like we were the only people left in the room.”

“you still remember it?” esme asks.

daniela smiles. “you don’t forget the good ones.”

“thank you,” esme breathes appreciatively. “i was scared, and kinda sad. but that made me feel better. i’ll have more chances or whatever.”

“you’re a perfect kid, and anyone who knows you is lucky,” you reassure her.

“i’m gonna go back with the girls,” esme says, cleaning up her plate, before she looks between the two of you. “thank you both for coming.”

daniela reaches out to wrap her up in a hug. “always gonna show up for you, mi amor.”

“thanks for reminding me.” esme reaches out to scoop you up too, the three of you crushing into a warm group hug. “i love you guys.”

you both admire your perfect angel of a daughter as she bounds out in search of her friends. you clean up your own plate in silence, meeting daniela outside as she gets the car started to head back down into town. you’re both sitting in silence, in her red mustang, waiting for the engine to warm up before you start the drive back down the mountain.

but something is gnawing at you. you need answers.

“that kiss at the party. when yunjin and i were dancing together. you kissed me that night. you were talking about me,” you finally say, watching as she adjusts the rear-view mirror. “that was our first kiss.”

daniela simply smiles back at you.

“i know.”

you let out a quiet breath.

“still your favorite?”

she blinks a few times, staring out at the road, and you half-expect her to make a joke, but she disarms you with one simple word.

“yeah.”

you pause. there’s no use in lying.

“mine too.”

you’re not sure who reaches out first, you or her, but your fingers are intertwining, holding hands on top of the gear shift.

she offers you a gentle, tender smile, looking you over once more. you see it in those warm dark eyes, the eyes of someone it seems you’ll always know.

“let’s go home.”

you know things will be different when you’re back to the real world. but for the next few hours, as your daughter hangs out with her best friends on a mountainside resort, and the snow glistens around you on the icy road, you can let yourself pretend with daniela just one more time.

#katseye x reader #daniela x reader #katseye daniela #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela katseye #daniela avanzini #☆ﾟ dittoverse thoughts.

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enwoso · 2 days ago

Text

who she runs to | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

-> based on this request⚽️

grumpy masterlist

the late-afternoon sun painted the youth pitch in warm gold as little feet pounded across the grass. you, in your slightly-too-big kit with the number '19' taped onto the back, was a whirlwind of energy and cheeky grins.

on the sideline, alessia, leah, and a handful of the arsenal girls had formed an informal cheering squad, snacks and water bottles at the ready.

"go on, tiny girl!" beth hollered, cupping her hands around her mouth as they cheered for you as you ran down the pitch.

"she's got more control than you, less," katie teased, nudging alessia slightly as they rested against the barrier.

"hey, i taught her everything she knows," alessia shot back smugly, a few of the girls humming.

leah laughed. "you mean how to do a step-over and immediately trip?"

"still counts as some sort of flair."

lotte stood behind them, filming on her phone. "this better go viral. i can see it, 'tiny sends opposition to the shops.'"

you, who was clearly fueled by all the attention, zoomed toward goal and toe-poked it into the bottom corner. as the final whistle blew, you threw her arms in the air like you'd just won the world cup.

all eyes were on her, but one pair of eyes watched from a distance harrison, standing behind a few rows back, out of direct sight his arms crossed with a small smile of pride on his face. he hadn't made his presence known yet.

the kids scattered after the whistle, some toward their parents, others toward the post-match oranges. but you?

your eyes locked on your mama like a magnet. "MMAAMMA!" you shrieked, sprinting at full speed.

leah crouched instinctively, arms open. "c'mere, lil superstar!"

you launched yourself at your mama and leah caught you, lifting you high and spinning you. you screamed with laughter, clinging to her neck.

"i saw your goal! that finish, oh it was lovely!" leah said, grinning her entire body filled with pride.

"you think it was good?"

"better than mummy's at the euros."

"yes! but not the back heel though-" you beamed, soaking up the praise.

leah slung you over one shoulder piggyback-style, and you giggled, playing with the ends of leah's ponytail. "you're my horsey now."

"you got it, angel. princess pony service."

beth leaned in. "oi, tiny, what about the rest of us? don't we get post-match hugs? we helped with the cheering too!"

you peeked out from leah's shoulder. "maaaaybe. if you bring me ice cream." you grinned pointing at the ice cream van that was in the car park, people already queuing in the warm afternoon sun.

"blackmail," katie muttered, impressed.

meanwhile, harrison approached, the laughter and affection around leah and you making his chest tighten.

he cleared his throat as he reached alessia. "hey."

alessia turned, eyebrows lifting, slightly startled by his presence. she hadn't seen or heard from him in a solid two weeks. "didn't know you were coming."

"i wanted to see her play." he said, hands still placed in his pockets as he looked at alessia, he could tell she was surprised by him being there. her brain ticking on how to react.

"you could've told me."

"she's my daughter, les-alessia," he said sharply. "i shouldn't need permission."

"hey, no i didn't mean that. but a heads up would have been nice-" alessia quipped back quickly, not liking his sharp tone especially when you were in ears length from hearing the conversation.

that tone. it was so familiar, so condescending and it grated on alessia.

but harrison's eyes drifted to the pitch, to the child, his daughter who hadn't even noticed him. still wrapped around leah's back, giggling and smiling as leah jogged lightly with you on her back.

his fists clenched slightly. "this—this isn't right. she should be running to me, not leah. i should be the one carrying her, not..." he trailed off, shaking his head. his eyes still looking at the scene of you and leah.

"y/n's not a prize you get for showing up late," alessia replied, her voice tight, her focus on gathering your little boot bag, not really having the effort to listen to harrison and his antics as frankly to her, now, they were boring.

"i'm her dad."

"and what is leah?" alessia fired back, quickly as she stood up now facing him. "cause to lovie, le is the one who helps her tie her shoe laces before school, reads to her at night, and gets up when she has nightmares."

harrison scoffed. "you let her play parent. that's on you."

alessia stepped closer, patience running a little thin with his excuses and ignorance. "leah didn't ask for any of this. she chose it. when we got to together, she showed up, over and over again. i never asked her to, once. and y/n loves her for that. that isn't something 'i let happen'. it happened by itself and cause you weren't there."

behind them, katie and beth had fallen quiet, exchanging glances at each other as they watched with unreadable expressions.

harrison shook his head. "it's not fair."

"no," alessia snapped back , "it's not. it’s not fair that, that little girl has to navigate your ego every time she's happy."

at that moment, you turned from your perch on leah's back, having heard the change in tone and recognising who your mummy was talking to. "mummy?" you said, voice small. "why's daddy shouting at you?"

the group went still. your eyes found harrison and the joy drained from your face, the smile that was once there had dropped quicker than your goal had hit the back of the net.

"hey, my little girl," harrison said gently, forcing a smile. "come here, daddy has missed you."

instead, you slid off leah's back and stepped behind her legs, peeking around only slightly, you little head confused at how he could shout at your mummy then want you in his arms.

"c'mon, y/n. don't be shy."

"no," you whispered, hugging leah's leg. "i don't want you to be mean to mummy." leah's heart broke a little, as she glared at harrison.

"she's scared," beth said quietly, stepping forward now, arms folded. "you might want to think about that."

"y/n," harrison tried again, his voice now slightly cracking. "i'm not trying to be mean, i just.. i miss you, kiddo."

still, you didn't budge.

"she doesn't owe you affection on demand," katie said, bluntly as alessia exhaled, rubbing a hand down her face.

lotte stepped closer and offered leah a soft look who was trying coax you from behind her legs. "you okay?"

leah nodded, then crouched beside you. "hey angel, want to go sit with auntie beth and katie for a bit while mummy and i clean up?"

you shook your head, firmly. "wan stay with you."

harrison opened his mouth but closed it again. there was nothing left to say. harrison took a shaky breath admitting defeat, but alessia stopped him with a look.

"maybe you should go," she said quietly. "we can talk later. but not now."

he looked like he wanted to argue, but something in the way you clung to leah made him finally understand. he wasn't the one she ran to. he wasn't never going to be. and until he earned it, he wouldn't be.

he nodded stiffly, turned, and reluctantly walked away. and harrison, watching from the shadows of the car park, realised for the first time...

he wasn't just competing with leah. he was competing with consistency. with love. with presence. with time.

and right now, he was losing.

as soon as he was gone, beth knelt down and offered you her hand. "alright, superstar. i've got jelly worms and a capri sun with your name on it."

you perked up. "do i get both?"

"mhmm, i'm sure mummy won't mind since you played your socks off in that match."

you cheered as you ran over to the snack bench with beth, katie and lotte in tow, your little socked feet rushing across the grass which alessia was definitely going to regret letting you do when she had to find a way to get the grass stains out of them..

leah stood slowly, brushing the dirt from her knees. alessia stepped beside her, watching their daughter dance around with the girls.

"she's lucky," leah said softly as she wrapped an arm around alessia pulling the blonde close into her chest.

"she is, she has the best people around her" alessia's voice cracked on the last word, and leah reached out to intertwine their fingers, grounding them both as they rested against alessia's shoulder.

in front of them, your laughter and giggles bubbled up again. you had launched herself onto katie's back, demanding another piggyback.

"i'm switching sides!" you yelled. "katie my horse now!"

"hey!" leah called, pretending to be offended. "i'm retiring from horse duty, am i?"

"no, never!" you yelled turning your head around to face leah as you yelled from katie's back. "you're my unicorn!"

leah and alessia looked at each other, hearts full.

unicorn. mama. safe place. whatever the name, leah had become someone you ran to, again and again. and no one could take that bond away.

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glamorizethechaos · 2 days ago

Text

Lizzie | Jack Abbot x Wife Reader x Teen Daughter

Warnings: periods, using that gif bc of his little dad bod belly for his dad energy

————

“Hey dad? Did mom leave yet?” Your daughter Elizabeth called from the doorway. Jack heard the tremble in her throat and his head snapped up immediately. His daughter stood biting her lip, desperate to hide the worry etched in her brow.

“Yeah, she had to leave early. Traffic is backed up on 19. What’s wrong, Lizzie?” He stood, balancing on the arm of the couch while reaching for his crutches.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Honey wha-”

“I’m fine!” She snapped before turning down the hall back to her room. Shutting the door with a loud slam, the frames on the wall rattling from the force.

As soon as you set your stuff down in the nurses station, your phone buzzed in your back pocket.

Lizzie Abbot 🎀

“Hey honey, what’s up?” You asked while multitasking and checking the nights caseload.

“Mama?” She whimpered, causing you to direct all attention to your little girl. She never called you ‘mama’ unless she was scared or upset. She sounded both.

“Lizzie? What’s wrong.”

“I got my period.”

You felt your whole body relax and you let out an audible sigh of relief. Thank god it was only that, but you’d been in her position before. You knew that to her, this was absolutely the end of the world, and you weren’t there to help.

“Okay, okay. Calm down, you’re okay. Did you check my bathroom?”

“Yeah, you only had tampons. I don’t know how to use them.”

“Okay, that’s fine, does Dad know?”

“No no no! Please don’t tell him!”

“Honey he’s a doctor, AND your father. This is nothing to him.”

“Exactly, he’s my dad. I’d rather die.”

“Dana just left. I can see if she can drop something off on her way home. I’ll text you. But your father is gonna have to find out eventually”

Before you could even hang up, Jacks call came through on the other line.

Jack Abbot 💍

“Hey, Jack.”

“Hey, did Lizzie say anything before you left? She’s upset about something and won’t talk to me.”

You sighed. As much as you wanted to respect her wishes, remembering how absolutely mortifying it was when your father learned about your entry to womanhood, Jack needed to know.

“Yeah um—I just got off the phone with her. Hold on let me go somewhere more private.” You hurried away from the nurses station and into a free room. “She got her period. All I have are tampons in the bathroom. I should have been better prepared for this moment… but it’s hard to believe we have a teenager.”

“Oh— oh uh—right, okay, d-do you need me to run to the store?”

You chuckled to yourself at how flustered he seemed to be.

“Well that’s the problem. She is absolutely dead set on me not telling you, and she’d probably have my head on a stake if she knew we were having this conversation right now.”

“Are you sure it’s her period?”

“Jack.”

“Alright, alright yeah. It’s just weird. I feels like yesterday she was doing ballet routines for me in the leotard we’d have to bribe her with candy to take off and wash.”

“Looking back, she probably knew she’d get a lollipop if she put up a fight. I think we were played, Jack Abbot.”

“By a toddler at that”

“I’m just waiting on Dana to get back to me to see if she can drop som— hold on she just texted back— shit she has her daughter’s basketball game.”

“I’ll run to the drugstore it’s not a problem.”

“But Elizabeth is gonna make it everyone’s problem when I get home in the morning if you do…”

————

After a brief back and forth with your daughter, about how she’d never talk to you again, you were the worst mother in the world, “Janies mom would never do this”, yada yada, you got a text from Jack.

A photo of the feminine hygiene aisle:

Jack Abbot 💍:

“Why the fuck are there that many pads and tampon choices? Wings? No wings? Scented. Unscented? Why would there even be scented ones? Which do I buy her?”

“You should see the shampoo aisle… just get her some regular and overnight pads for now. With wings. ‘Always’ is usually the brand I go for. Drop them outside her door like it’s a bomb and do not engage with the enemy.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Probably.”

“If you don’t hear from me in an hour, send the search party.”

“Just watch your other leg, soldier.”

“🙄”

45 minutes later your daughter heard the rustle of a plastic bag and her dad’s uneven gait down the hallway. She sat on her bed with her knees to her chest until she heard his footsteps retreat to his bedroom for the night. Her phone lit up.

Dad 💙🦿

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

She crept to the door and opened it slowly, at her feet was the Target bag and her favorite chocolate chip frappe from Starbucks (or a milkshake disguised as coffee as her dad calls it). Inside were the pads but also some candy, her favorite chips, a new book she told him about last week, and some ibuprofen with a post-it note on it that says “take two” in his chicken scratch.

Jacks phone chimed (on full blast may I add. He’s the only one in the family who wont have his phone on vibrate “in case they need me at the hospital”)

Lizzie ⚽️👩🏻‍🦰:

“Thanks”

“When you stop being scary, can I have some sour patch kids? I was in such a hurry I forgot to get a sweet treat for myself from the store :( “

“lol yes”

And then a text from you

Wife 😍:

“You make it out okay? Should I send search and rescue?”

“Survived. Barely.”

“I knew marrying an army vet with hostage negotiation skills would pay off eventually.”

#the pitt #shawn hatosy #dr abbott #hbo max #dr abbot #fanfic #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x you #dr abbot x reader #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbott #dr abbott x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abott

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blaysreid · 3 days ago

Text

Rooms Without Heat

pairing = shybf!spencer + baugf!reader

summary = Nestled close and wrapped in quiet cuddles, Spencer and Reader are just beginning to explore the gentle warmth of a new relationship. Every shared glance and tender touch draws them closer, turning simple moments into something beautifully unforgettable.

content warning = just cuddles and lots of kisses. lowkey one bed trope? but they're already in a relationship! nothing related to a case is mentioned.

It started with a quiet knock.

Not the kind that said emergency. The kind that said help. The kind that said I trust you. And maybe just a little bit of I want to be near you too.

Spencer was still awake, though barely. His room was dim, one lamp on by the bed, casting a warm glow across the pages of the book resting in his lap. It was something about the history of snowflake classification that he’d picked it up on impulse at a roadside bookshop earlier that day, thinking you might find it cute.

His reading had slowed. He was at that sleepy stage where the words stopped making sense, but he didn’t want to stop. He was still wearing his BAU hoodie, sleeves pulled over his hands, curls messy and flattened on one side from the pillow he’d been leaning against. The whole room smelled faintly of spearmint tea and the wood of the old lodge furniture.

Then came the knock.

Soft. Barely there.

But he heard it.

And he was up in seconds.

He didn’t even think about it, his body moved faster than his mind, already padding across the cold wooden floor in socked feet, heart thudding a little faster than he expected. He reached for the door, hands slightly shaky, like some part of him already knew it was you. That same part that always felt warmer just being near you. Even when things were still new. Especially because things were still new.

And when he opened the door-

There you were.

Wrapped in a cream coloured blanket that trailed behind you like a cape, cheeks flushed from the hallway chill, lashes heavy with sleep. You looked so small like that. So human. So soft and cold and real and… his. His girlfriend.

Spencer’s heart just about cracked wide open.

“Oh,” he breathed. Not surprised more like overwhelmed. Like the sight of you short circuited something in his chest. “Hi.”

His voice was warm, low, instinctively gentle. Like he was already trying to comfort you without knowing why you were there.

You gave a little sniffle, smiling sheepishly. “My room’s freezing. Like, teeth chattering freezing. I didn’t want to wake anyone else, but… I didn’t know where to go.”

Spencer blinked, and something about the way you said that like he was your first thought sent a wave of heat rushing to his face. His ears were already pink. His hand, still on the doorknob, twitched like he didn’t know what to do with it now.

He took a breath. Then said it like it was the easiest, most obvious answer in the world:

“Come in.”

You stepped past him slowly, and he stood there watching you like you were moonlight come to life. The blanket dragged behind you, and your shoulders shook slightly from the leftover cold.

His voice followed you in, still soft. “You can always come here. Anytime.”

You looked back at him with that little smile . The one that made your eyes squint slightly at the corners. “Thank you, Spence.”

The door clicked shut behind you. The room was quiet. The heater in the corner gave a soft, tired wheeze. You stood in the middle of the floor, still wrapped in your blanket, teeth gently tapping together as you tried to rub warmth back into your arms.

Spencer moved before he could overthink it. He started tugging at the extra throw blanket folded at the end of the bed, unfolding it clumsily and then looking at it like he didn’t actually know what he was doing with it.

“I have this,” he said quickly. “But it’s not very thick. I should’ve asked for another one at the front desk earlier but I didn’t think- I mean- I didn’t expect- not that I didn’t want-”

He caught himself, flushed, and took a breath.

"I mean. There’s space. If you want. On the bed. With me. If you’re comfortable with that. No pressure. It’s just… it’s probably warmer.”

You turned toward him slowly, a brow raised, half amused and half touched.

“Are you trying to offer me cuddles, Doctor Reid?”

He swallowed. His whole brain short-circuited.

“I… I just think biologically speaking, we’d conserve more heat by sharing a confined space and-”

He gave up halfway through the sentence and dropped his eyes to the floor.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

You padded over to him and gently nudged his arm with your elbow. “Spence. I’m your girlfriend. You’re allowed to offer me cuddles.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, and you swore you saw stars there. Real stars. That wonder he got when something beautiful caught him off guard.

“I know,” he said quietly. “It just still surprises me.”

“What does?”

“That you’re mine.”

Your heart thudded.

He looked so sincere. Like he didn’t even mean to say that out loud. Like the thought had just slipped out without warning.

You gave him the softest smile you could manage, then held up your arms with a teasing little shrug.

“Come on then, boyfriend. Make room for me.”

He did. So fast. He pulled the covers back like it was a sacred ritual and waited for you to crawl in before following after. The bed creaked a little under both of your weight, and for a moment, you just laid there side by side in silence, not touching yet, listening to the wind outside the window.

His voice broke the stillness, nervous but sweet.

“Just so you know… I won’t move unless you do.” His tone teasing, but you knew he meant every word he just said.

You laughed softly.

“You’re such a dork.”

“I like you too much to mess this up.”

And your heart soared. Literally melting as you slowly slid in bed next to him.

The bed wasn’t just small. It was absurdly small.

Spencer had called it a double, but you were pretty sure it was closer to a glorified twin. A twin that had dreams of being more, but ultimately wasn’t built for two adults with wildly different ideas of personal space.

He was lying next to you now, stiff as a board, his arms tucked across his chest like he was afraid to accidentally touch you without permission. You were barely brushing shoulders, the blanket pulled up to your chins, neither of you speaking.

But you could feel it.

The tension.

Not the bad kind, the fizzy kind. That weird, delicious sort of electricity that only came from being this close to someone who made your heart feel like it belonged somewhere. Someone who made everything in your chest quiet down for once.

And just when you thought you were going to have to break the silence-

“Biologically speaking,” Spencer whispered suddenly, voice all raspy and half embarrassed "sharing body heat is the most efficient way to regulate warmth.”

You blinked.

“…Are you trying to say you want to cuddle?”

There was a pause.

He swallowed audibly.

Then, so soft you almost didn’t hear it:

“Yes.”

You smiled into the dark. “Then come here.”

Still hesitant, he rolled onto his side to face you. His hand hovered awkwardly above your waist like he was waiting for the go-ahead, so you reached for him first. You slid under his arm and pressed yourself into the hollow of his chest, fitting your body against his like two puzzle pieces.

And Spencer-

He melted.

There was no other word for it.

He folded around you with this deep, shaky sigh, his arms wrapping around your back and holding you like you were something rare. Something breakable. Something his.

His hand settled gently between your shoulder blades, fingertips resting just barely against the fabric of your shirt. His other arm curved under your waist, holding you closer, firmer, until there was no more space between you at all.

You could feel his heartbeat.

Fast. Nervous. Real.

You tilted your chin up to look at him.

He was already looking at you.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse and full of that tender panic that always came when something mattered too much. “Am I holding you too tight?”

You shook your head, forehead brushing his. “No. It’s perfect.”

And then something changed in his expression. It was like a wall dropped, because suddenly, he wasn’t just holding you. He was holding you.

Like he didn’t care if you felt how much he needed you. Like the guardrails were off. Like he was finally letting himself believe that you were really here and really his.

“I love this,” he whispered. “You. Here.”

You smiled into his chest. “Me too.”

And then his lips pressed to your forehead. Slowly. Softly. Like it was instinct. Like his body was just moving in response to the feeling in his heart.

He kissed your temple next. Then your hairline. Little, innocent kisses that didn’t ask for anything, didn’t need anything, just wanted to give.

When you looked up again, his eyes were wide and glassy.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Believe what?”

“That I get to love you like this.”

You leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

“You get to do it forever, Spence.”

He tightened his grip, face buried in your hair, whispering words you barely caught “I want that so bad.” "It's yours, I'm yours"

You tucked your cold toes under his legs. He didn’t flinch and instead he just pulled you closer, hands comfortably sliding down you back and you can physically feel him relax, thanking you for being the first to show him how easy this really is.

That night, you stayed tangled together in the middle of a too small bed, under a too thin blanket, but somehow… it was the warmest you’d ever been. His arms and legs wrapped around you, his lips on your forehead and his heart yours.

You’d been tucked in against him for a while now. The room was dark. Quiet. The kind of peaceful that made everything feel smaller and safer than it really was.

Spencer’s fingers were tracing lazy patterns across your back, slow and absentminded, like his brain had gone all fuzzy but his hands still needed to memorize you. You’d long since pressed your cheek to his chest, lulled by the steady thump of his heartbeat and the softness of his hoodie.

Neither of you had spoken for a while.

But then, just as your eyelids started to grow heavy, his voice floated into the dark.

“…Goodnight.”

You smiled without opening your eyes. “Goodnight, Spence.”

And then-

A pause.

Followed by the softest little murmur.

“…Can I kiss you goodnight?”

You blinked up at him, a little stunned. Not because you didn’t want to but because he sounded so shy about it. So careful. Like even after everything, he still needed permission.

You reached up, cupped his jaw, and nodded. “Please.”

He leaned down, lips brushing yours once, slow and sweet, like he was still figuring out how to do this whole having you thing.

But when he pulled back, you were already grinning.

And then-

You kissed him back.

Once.

Then again.

And again.

Quick little pecks, scattered across his lips, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose, back to his lips.

Each one made him stifle a breath. And then a laugh. And then-

“Wait—” kiss

“Are you—” kiss

“Are you trying to—” kiss

He broke into full-on giggles.

And it was the cutest sound you’d ever heard.

“Stop-” he whispered between fits of laughter, even as his hands tightened around your waist. “Baby you're killing me.”

You just kept going, planting kisses all over his face now, his jaw, his dimple, his forehead, and anything you could reach.

“Killing you with love. Can’t stop. You’re too cute.”

He shook his head against the pillow, grinning so hard his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You're handsome.”

“You're perfect.” He said it so quietly, with those puppy eyes you'd absolutely kill for looking up at you.

You kissed him again. Slower this time. A little longer. And he melted into it, smiling against your lips.

When you pulled back, he was staring at you like you’d just reinvented the entire universe.

“…Wow.”

You tucked your face under his chin with a satisfied sigh. “That’s what you get for being so kissable and adorable.”

He rested his cheek against the top of your head, whispering against your hair, “I’ve never been this happy before. I adore you so much.”

Your heart stuttered.

You didn’t say anything back.

You just hugged him tighter.

And he kissed your temple one last time, breath warm and full of wonder. This time his heart beat finally slowing down, body fully relaxing into you.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” , "Goodnight Spence"

a/n = couldn't sleep until I let my imagination run wild. Please consider checking out my other works if you've enjoyed and please share your opinion I'd really appreciate it!

tag = @summerobertsvariant

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