#and they’ll leave and think ‘thank goodness people

[prncssie]

TWO ⎯⎯ ★ s. ryomen m. list

content warning minors and trump supporters do not interact. neither are welcome here. in this specific chapter, it gets suggestive towards the end but there is no on page smut. you can expect consensual groping in a public setting and "dick" is written once. also, the bouncer is described as creepy and acts as such but his appearance is short

WHEN I GROW UP

you thought when you strolled through the glass doors of an acting agency, — a grand building lined with glass walls, allowing the sunlight to filter into the lobby — you’d be greeted with warm smiles and maybe even a mint. this is not what you were expecting. it smells clean, citrusy, like fresh squeezed lemons and pine. the hardwood flooring, tan and matte, are smooth beneath your new balances. it’s nearly glittering a pathway guiding you to the front desk. your resume, shielded behind the manilla folder, is tucked tightly to your chest. you’ve even worn your best off-duty outfit, aiming for something simple to show off your spark. a black tube top and black jeans, perfect for forcing focus to your face full of sweet features, dollike and docile enough to render a certain impression on camera, you hope.

“hi,” you speak soft at first, a smile gracing your mouth when the receptionist lifts her head. “yeah, um, my name is ⭐︎ and i heard you had an open call today.” you can’t help the way your shoulders inch up towards your ear, a subconscious way of making yourself smaller, biting away at the ball of white hot nervousness rolling in the base of your tummy. “i was hoping to get in on that.”

it’s a shame her blonde bun is pulled so tight, straining what little polite receptors she has in her system because all the receptionist does is size you up with so much of a twitch of her glossed lips. she doesn’t smile when she slaps the clipboard atop the reflective material of the black desk. “sign here,” for a millisecond, if you'd even count it that, her lips pull tight upwards before she’s returning to whatever she was doing before, nails clacking against the keyboard. “head down that hall to the left. they’ll give you a number. wait for it to be called.”

as soon as you’re finished scribbling the black gen pen down on the white sheet, boxes full of signatures, pages stacked on over the other, she takes it back with a flat palm, dragging it over the open space. “break a leg.” and then it’s as if you were never there. you fade into the background. perhaps in her eyes, you’ve dissipated into light particles. “thanks so much,” is all you can say, lifting your eyebrows with an unamused grin, “brenda.” you catch her name off the nameplate as you leave.

this has to be normal, right? it’s not like hospitality comes with the service, if you can even call it that. people are snobby, thinking their proximity to the stars gives them some sort of privilege or immunity. sure, you wouldn’t normally take such disrespect or disregard for you as a person but maybe you could consider it as a good thing. a blessing in disguise, a side effect of success. this is the closest you’ve been to being in something bigger than yourself, an open call for anything other than a commercial for whole milk or sponsorship from some website.

you have to believe it. otherwise . . .

down the hall and the left, right? you couldn’t miss it if you tried. the bodies milling about give enough clue as to what was going on, numbers taped and pinned to shirts, pants, skirts. the jitters that you swallowed, or tried to, threaten to break free, itching just below the surface of your skin. your mouth is dry but far too wet at the same time. are you drooling? but when your hand lifts to your lips, disguised as checking for lipgloss rolling too far out of place, you don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. still, with each step  closer to the check-in table, your brain cannot stop formulating new possibilities of embarrassment. you could trip, you could forget your lines, you could throw up. none of it’s helping, especially when they’re looking at you with such expecting gazes. getting the number is the easy part, though. all you have to do is write your name down and pick it up. alike many of the others, you opt to tape it, pressing the sticky adhesive into the denim of your pants.

you find yourself in your own desolate space in the hallway, stuck between warm bodies rehearsing their lines and casting sparing glances at the competition around them. you’re unsure where to look. there’s nothing particularly beneficial about staring down the other wannabe actors around you but the idea of focusing so hard on the tiling doesn’t seem too idealistic, either. you’ve always been told it’s best to stand tall anyway, pushing an aura of confidence, even if it’s fake.

and so you do for as long as you stand there. you push your shoulders back and force all that tension between your shoulder blades, straightening your posture for as long as the situation demands. evidently, until your casting is over and you get to return home.

it’s a slow process, slower than you think it would be. you were sure when you left work a few hours ago that you’d have enough time to rinse the smell of fryer grease and burgers off your skin — you’ve since replaced it with silky strawberry lotion and powdery vanilla perfume — and arrive with more than enough time to spare. of course, you did hope it wouldn’t take too long, maybe an hour or two to finish the whole thing. however, when you pull your phone out of your little black prada shoulder bag, you learn that more than three hours have passed.

that’s a ridiculous amount of time to stand, waiting as others go into that room and leave with smiles on their faces or tears in their eyes. sometimes, they don’t have an expression at all. they simply open that heavy door and wander down the hallway, leaving an air of mystery as to what could have happened. you like to fantasize, making up stories about each person and what they could have possibly done to fail. it’s your only entertainment, one that sends you into a trance-like state as you watch and eye each passerby.

it works for a while, dulling your boredom while you wait for your turn. you would have missed the sudden whispery uproar if it weren’t for the girl beside you. her hair brushes against your arm when she turns her head to whisper to the person next to you. instinctively, you cover the tickled area with your palm and look over, bringing your attention closer to the chatter. it’s bit unexpected how suddenly it rises. in just a few minutes, the dull crowd, tired of standing and waiting, begins to buzz with excitement. around you, people whisper, eyes gawking and following figures moving through the hall.

at first glance, it doesn’t take you long to identify just who is attracting all this uproar. even if people weren’t damn near pointing at the hulking figure disregarding his attention, you’d recognize him regardless. it’s hard to miss the dyed pink hair, black roots peaking just below the tufts. his undercut is just as crisp as the pictures, fresh from recent maintenance. there’s a smirk tugging at his lips, arrogant and knowing, like all the attention he’s receiving simply strokes his ego, filling up his head with pride. he walks in a saunter, fingers wrapped around his phone and tilting his head in the onlookers direction. you can get glimpses of his iconic black gel polish, catching the glimmer of the overhead lighting.

sukuna ryomen, one of the greatest stars in the industry at this very moment. the it boy, the icon, the muse of most directors. you could be seeing too far into things when he passes you, but for a second, when your eyes make contact, there’s a particular . . . tension. perhaps you’re imagining it, a warped notion in your head that blended reality with fantasy, but his eyebrows furrow, just slightly. they twitch, jumping upwards before letting you become one with the rest of his admirers.

“ – role in another movie,” it’s a whisper coming from beside you, a comment made in his wake, after he had already made his appearance and left a notable impact. “that’s what i heard, at least. i think it’s a thriller. some psychological shit.”

a thriller? the sukuna ryomen in a thriller? it’s been a while since there’s been a movie you’be been genuinely excited to see but the prospect of such a big name with an equally big aura taking on a role like that? you’re already itching with anticipation at the thought. you wish you could be there, watch him rehearse his lines, see how he prepares for the role. there’s endless lessons you an take out of his book but you’ll never have the chance. not as long as you’re just someone auditioning and he’s at the top of the ranks.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

“no, cherry. i’m not getting the role.” you’re shoving airpods into your ears as you dejectedly make your way out the building. you pull your bag even farther on your shoulder, ignoring the harsh squeals your shoes make when you don’t entirely lift them off the ground. it’s what they deserve anyway, this whole company, after throwing you to the side like that. it contrasts with the clicks of heels and draws judging glares towards you but you ignore them. they’re nothing and they mean nothing after setting up such a massive event, one that you spent weeks preparing for, just for it to be pointless. “turns out, they already had someone in mind. it’s such —,” you pause, just long enough to step outside the glass doors, “such bullshit.”

“aw, honey,” her sweet southern drawl does little to comfort you as warm as it is. if anything, the empathy dripping from it riles you up further. she means well, truly. cherry is as disappointed as you are. in the short span of working together, she’s become something of a confidant, the only person who knows your goals of reaching the stars. it’s not a secret you hold close to your heart for any particular reason. it’s just . . . well, it’s just this. no one wants people to know about their setbacks. you wouldn’t find any joy in sharing your worst failures.

cherry is different, though. she’s kind about it. she has a big heart, keeping in negative comments she might have to herself. besides, cherry has a dream, too, to walk in fashion week. it was a drunken confession, sitting on the floor of your studio apartment after consuming enough white wine to send you both into fits of giggles. you considered it a housewarming.

“how do you know that? did they tell you?” she has to raise her voice over the beeping fryer alarm and the rustling around her. of course in normal cherry fashion, she picks up the phone during work hours when business is slow and she has time to waste.

“they don’t have to tell me for me to know.” you want to press your hands into your eyes, perhaps lay down beneath your sheets and hide away from the world until the fury building inside withers away. “i went in there and did my audition. they were all like ‘oh, ⭐︎, you did so good. you look so cute on camera, you’re so talented’,” you raise your voice a couple octaves to mock the casting directors, rolling your brown eyes in tandem with your words. “that’s not what they actually said but whatever. the point is, some girl walks in and they’re all over her.”

you click your tongue in a fluid motion, scrolling through the app library in search of whichever rideshare app you’ve downloaded since moving out here. with what little income you make, there’s no way you’ll be able to afford a car for the next couple of months, or even years in this economy. a ten minute ride back to your home is nothing compared to the cost of car payments and gas. “i’ve never seen her before, which is the crazy part. i don’t remember what they said her name was. edamame, uraume, whatever the fuck.”

“wait, no. i’ve heard of that name before. i’m pretty sure she was in that show with that guy.” for a moment, you hear her pause, presumably directing her attention to someone else. “yeah, honey. i’ll be right with you, m’kay? listen, ⭐︎, i gotta go, but i’ll see you tonight. we’re still on for tonight, right? i’ll take you out to this place i know. you’ll love it. i hear lotsa famous people go there. maybe you’ll meet someone who can get you a fancy role.”

your eyes settle on the dark colored sedan underlined with an identifying combination of letters and numbers. it’s only a couple dollars and you have the money to spare. you didn’t feel particularly inclined to walk those couple blocks, anyway. you find her words sort of . . . comforting, now. as optimistic as such a small possibility seems, the idea of simply running into someone worthwhile all while dancing the night away excites you. as unlikely as such an easy shortcut to success is, you still consider the small chance to be a chance at all.

“yeah, okay,” you respond with a distant sounding voice as you navigate through the nine dollar payment. it takes a few seconds for the screen to reload, proposing you begin to make your way to the pickup location. “i’ll see you later.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

the club cherry took you to, it’s everything and nothing you expected it to be at the same time. you scrolled through pictures of the three story building on google reviews while cherry showered, filling up the small confines of her bathroom with steam and the scent of dove cucumber body wash; she insisted on you getting ready at her place after seeing the lackluster apparel hanging in your closet. you didn’t think they were that bad and yet, she parroted on and on that the bouncer would not let you in the clothes you planned on wearing. and she was right, he wouldn’t. here he stood, scrutinizing and slightly predatory gaze across each clubgoer. he took his time with the women, eyebrow quirking when someone particularly piqued his interest. gross, but expected.

it’s just as lively as you thought it would be, people milling around the entrance with id in hand. occasionally, the cars driving by would slow down and glance at the pedestrians, some gathered in groups and drunkenly skipping down the pavement. the lights are flashy, the people are giggly. it's exactly as a club scene should be. the only thing that’s missing is . . . well, the music.

you make note of it as you stand in line, arms wrapped around your body and shifting your weight from leg to leg. there’s no music, at least none you can hear. back in your little town closer to the rural edges of the countryside, you spent quite enough time at the club. you treated it as your own personal spotlight, finding great fun in putting on different personas to enchant men for the night. it could be considered where your love for acting really started, or maybe not. maybe you just sound crazy.

“okay, when we get up there,” cherry leans into you, ducking her head to get her words more clearly heard in your ear. she’s already a couple inches taller than you and with the heels on her black boots pushing her up, those inches became more than just a couple, “don’t say anythin’. well, you can speak but i’ll handle most of it. mike is real fickle. he likes to flirt with the girls and if you don’t make him happy, you don’t get in.” 

“you brought me to a place where the girls are forced to be creeped on by the bouncer for admission?”

cherry clicks her tongue at your words. she follows the flow of the line and takes a step forward, momentarily looking over her shoulder to meet your eyes. “sometimes he doesn’t make us pay.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

you’re drunk. you don’t have to ask someone to know. there’s no need for a breathalyzer, no need to hang of cherry’s shoulder and smile that pink-lipped, sugar-coated, loopy smile. the confirmation is in the way you walk. it’s in your tingling hands and your tingling lips. it’s in your airy laughter and your slurred words as you teeter across the dance floor. it’s in the way you sit now, perched on the edge of a chair and drunkenly kissing . . . someone. a girl, a guy, you don’t know. it wouldn’t make any difference really.

they’re probably just as drunk as you are, hands gripping and pulling at  your dress, or rather the dress you borrowed. in the back of your mind, you’re scowling and making note to check for snags later, considering how ungracious they’re being. so much so that you’ve been tasked with the responsibility of tugging your dress up every so often as the constant threat of your boobs slipping out. 

you’re not enjoying this, not as much as you want to be. you’re meant to loosen up, get out there, “make connections, whatever that means to you”, as cherry said in her honeyed dialect. that’s what you hoped to do, connect your mouth to another’s in a way that enthralled you in a more lustrous way, with tensions that weigh heavy in a bubble that surrounds you and makes you hungry for more.

you kind of sit there while they begin to mouth along your jawline with more tongue than you prefer. the distaste hits you strong enough you to put your hands on their shoulders after minutes of kissing starving lips. with a firm grasp, you push just slightly, politely even. you still give them that drunken smile even with the sudden detachment and rise to your feet. the base of your shoes knock against the metal leg of the chair and you stumble a few steps on your way up. “i will be right back.” you doubt your voice carries over the bass-boosted music. the beat alone vibrates the floor and rattles your brain in your skull. you both know this isn’t true, or at least you know and that’s enough for you. your toothy smile is concealed as your face falls to rest and you turn, purposefully taking a winding route through the crowd.

you lost cherry a while ago. in retrospect, she’s a bit of a terrible friend for vanishing like that so suddenly with the assumption that you’d be fine. the fault really lied in the decision that you should both drink tonight, as if two wasted girls were ever a good idea. however, it’s too late to be playing the blame game. you’re already taking wobbly strides under the strobe lights while a mixture of house and electronic plays in the background. there’s no real destination you’re heading towards. you follow the movement of the crowd, swaying and leaning. left, right, left, right.

in the moment, staying just where you are is appealing. it calls to you like a siren’s song, begging and pleading with you to stay. have another drink, kiss someone else, live under the colored lights. before you know it, you’re dancing to the music. it’s not what you’d typically listen to but when you’ve had this many shots in those cute little glasses, anything will do. your eyes are still closed as you dance, pulling moves from your mental catalog of video vixens and pop icons. it’s a mess, a flurry of arms and legs. your hair becomes an accessory, an extension of yourself, an object of seduction when you brush it out your face. your hips find the beat with ease and you find enjoyment in being alone, despite knowing you probably should be apprehensive.

it doesn’t take long before there’s a hand settled on your hip, hovering at first, waiting for permission to make contact with your skin. you spot it somehow in your drunken haze and take a hold of it without hesitation. you stamp the hand against your hip, ruffling the dress you adorn beneath their light hold. you only have a short moment to glance over your shoulder and assess the stranger you have welcomed into your one person party. he’s a pleasing sight, although slightly obscured by the blinding overhead lighting, constantly moving and flashing shades of blue, purple, and red. you catch tufts of black and pink lips upturned into a smirk.

it’s good enough for you so you turn and bend at the waist, dipping your head and letting your soft curls toss over your crown. you push the clothed and plush fat of your ass against the stiff fabric of this stranger’s jeans. you both move in an enthralling whirl. you just, met, or rather just become aware of each other’s presence, but somehow you mesh together in a balanced blend of bodies and flirtatious glances.

his hand is firm on your chest. he can feel the warmth of your bare skin where the dress leaves you exposed. he’s pleased to discover he can also feel the swell of your breasts and where they begin to deviate from your otherwise leveled skin. he has to bend at the waist to get to you, but once he does, you’re back to standing, chest to back and a grin on your face. his breath is hot on your ear and his voice is deep. it warms your drunken insides like a warm cider, thoroughly spiced. “are you here with someone?”

your feet tangle with themselves as you turn to face him. you’re careful, slow, calculating each step and maintaining your balance with a strong grip of his forearms. you squeeze and hum at the strong muscle relaxed beneath. “maybe, probably. if she’s still here.” you’re moving again, languidly resting your arm over his shoulder. “what’s your name?” you have to place a hand over the top of your head to cover your eyes from the glaring color changing lights. he looks familiar, extremely familiar. however, you’re drunk and it’s dark. you aren’t so concerned with placing a distinct name to a face and more concerned with what you’ll be calling this person you presume you’re going home with tonight.

sure, it wasn’t what you originally believed yourself to be doing. the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, nor would you do this on any other occasion but it’s your first night out in a new town. you’ve had the letdown of a century and your boss is absolute shit, never showing up to do anything but complain and order you around. with a pretty boy right at your fingertips, why should you deny yourself? just for one night, at least.

it takes him a second. you assume he doesn’t quite hear you over the music bumping in the background because he blinks, dark eyebrows drawing together just slightly, and that smirk is returning right back on his pink lips. “kuyo,” his hands downwards, smoothening under the crease of your butt.

“unusual name but whatever you say.” your eyes track him low-lidded and just barely disguising the hearts beginning to form in your eyes. he moves close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. it reeks of something strong, something like henessey cocktailed with a flurry of drinks downed without a second thought.

kuyo can only chuckle, one that goes unheard in your ears. he ignores your little comment, experimentally grazing his fingers along your body, both clothed and unclothed while gauging your reaction. and when he finds none, just your sweet smile, he continues pulling and squeezing and groping with little regard for those around you. you’re in a club. people should expect to see a little frisking. “i don’t like beating around the bush and i’m sure you’re a smart girl so you know what i’m gonna say. do you want to go back with me or not? we’d have to go to yours though. roommates.”

you almost laugh. there’s already a giggle building in your throat at his sheer audacity. kuyo didn’t even ask. he didn’t suggest, didn’t pose a question. he simply invited himself over, granted, that’s if you let him. usually, you’d pull back. you’d scoff in kuyo’s face, shake your head and disappear, never to be seen again. but his hands, they’re so strong. and his shoulders are so broad, and his chest is so firm, and his smile is so— “this better be the best night of my life, pretty boy.”

he gives one final squeeze to your midsection, savoring that feeling of plush skin molding around his fingers. the next time kuyo feels it, he knows it’ll be without these silly restrictions such as clothes and peering eyes. not that he’d mind, but he does doubt you want to be split on his dick in the middle of a club. “oh trust, it will be.”

©️ prncessie | do not repost on to other platforms, plagiarize, modify, translate, or use for any ai platforms. my work is my own and it comes from my brain so you’ll have to use yours too

taglist — comment to be added

@excedr

[froggibus]

i’m begging you for some nsfw hcs with wade & logan

i NEED more info about jealous sex with them specifically

please and thank you 💋💋

Jealousy Sex - Logan Howlett & Wade Wilson

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader (no pronouns are used but has a pussy) x Wade Wilson

Genre: smut/nsfw

CW: poly! relationship, jealousy, possession, scent kink/scenting, taunting & humiliation, oral, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, AFTERCARE

omg of course!! the two of them being jealous over you would be such a handful >~< id love to write a full length of this sometime too!! thank you for the request lovely 💓

these two are such a handful when they’re jealous

Logan has no patience for other men getting in your personal space

if some other guy is talking to you too long or starting to get a little too close

he comes and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck

he’ll make a big show of it too, sucking at your skin and breathing in your scent

“d’ya smell that? hm?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together, wondering what’s about to come

“that’s my scent. mine. all fuckin’ over ya.”

he’s dragging you upstairs to the nearest locked bedroom before you can even react

sex with him while he’s jealous can go either way depending on just how riled up he is

sometimes it’s deep and intimate, going until you’ve forgotten the rest of the world

or it’s rough and hard and biting, until your head is spinning and his name is the only thing you can remember

he’ll have you face down in the pillows, his grip on your hips so tight you swear he’s using his claws

his cock bullies so deep inside of you that tears form in your eyes and you have to wind your hands into the sheets to keep from screaming

and once you throw Wade into the mix…

Wade does NOT get jealous easily & even if he does, he just jokes it off

it would take a lot to get him going & god help you if he does

he’ll swoop in when someone’s hitting on you and press himself in real close

not nearly as showy as Logan but he’ll make real good eye contact with them and call them out for it

“i know i know” he’ll kiss the side of your head. “so fuckable, right?“

he’ll have you propped on the counter of the nearest bathroom, his face stuffed between your legs in an instant

he’s holding your legs open with ease & relentlessly licking your poor, overstimulated clit

every time you try to shuffle away or close your legs he’s pushing them further apart

“ahahah, not yet baby. if you can still move then I haven’t done my job right.”

when they’re together & jealous?? you’re not leaving that room for hours and they’re going to fucking ruin you

they’ll have you whining and overstimulated long before either of them slip inside of you

they take turns over who gets to eat you out, the other holding your legs open and mumbling a tantalizing mix of praise and degradation in your ears

they’re both dirty talk kings

by the time Logan slips his cock through your folds, your legs are already shaking

you’re moaning so damn loud that Wade has to shove his cock in your mouth to keep the people at the party from hearing

the two of them can go for hours thanks to their regeneration and if you think you’re getting out anytime before that…

once you’re nice and fucked out in Logan’s arms, Wade’s sliding his cock inside of you and then they’re both fucking you

they get SO caught up in the moment trying to one up each other too—the only thing they can agree upon is that you’re theirs

when the night is over, you’ll be stuffed to the brim with cum and half-conscious, fucked out on the bed

they’ll clean you up nice and good though

Wade is the best ever at aftercare, he’ll always have water and a warm cloth for you (or in this case, a tshirt he stole from the closet)

meanwhile Logan will massage your aching muscles and shaking limbs, kissing your feverish skin

masterlist | marvel masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i receive ^^

[kmuradesu]

.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying, posting my work on a different platform, or modifying my work. all rights reserved - kmuradesu

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Still establishing some more lore and feelings. Currently, the Batfamily has two yanderes. With more yandere’s being revealed outside of Gotham and some in Gotham about to start falling into obsession. Also, my favorite Reader is one who is manipulated into thinking the collar around their neck is a necklace. Will be working on Part Three, but it might take longer because we have obsessions starting and Reader starting to get to a breaking point.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Poor Reader has it rough. Not too rough, but still life kinda sucks and they wanna go home now, please and thank you.

But, as always, things start to brighten up a notch or two.

Reader is thriving at school, sure they can’t hang out with their friends, but their friends understand (which honestly kinda odd, but they’ll roll with it)

There is a small issue.

Reader is a metahuman. (I know, shocking. So unique.)

Reader controls the weather, at will or with extreme emotions (oooooo interesting)

Back in their hometown, Reader didn’t have to hide said abilities that much. (Hell, more than a few people knew about it. Such an understanding community.)

Here in Gotham, in a practical stranger’s house, they’re not gonna to that.

Which is fine. Fine fine fine

Okay, so Reader is tense. Doesn’t have a healthy outlet, and is bottling things up. So that storms brewing. Gonna be fun when that comes back to bite Reader in the ass.

But, things are looking up. (I swear this time!)

Duke and Cass are hanging out with Reader more. They’re sorta becoming a trio of amigos.

Though, they do disappear often. For long periods of time.

Reader is pretty sure Bruce is Batman, at this point.

They’re not stupid, it’s in their damn genetics to be somewhat intelligent, so to speak.

But, no one actually tells reader. It’s lead to some awkward situations of them going silent when Reader enters the room, or the manor being unusually empty after everyone went to the ‘library’.

(Smalltown doesn’t mean stupid, bunch of jerks.)

It just makes reader feel even less like they’re part of the family. Even Alfred disappears for a time, leaving Reader completely alone with nothing, but portraits and old wood furniture.

No one says anything. No one mentions a single thing. (Am I not worthy of the secret? Why did you drag me here only to ignore me?)

Bruce continue to bounce between ignoring and coddling. Yet gets upset if Reader does the same. (Making them anxious.)

Dick pops back in, immediately showering Reader and excessive amounts of affection before shooing them off cause he’s gotta take care of somethings. (It makes reader feel like a pet in a degrading way.)

Jason gets caught harassing Reader by Alfred. Which leads to a screaming match between Jason and Bruce. It’s a violent one, but Alfred drags Reader out of the room before they can see. (But they hear things breaking and It’s terrifying.)

After that, Reader is extremely cautious around Jason. Which for some reason makes him angry and more violent. (Why does he hate me? This is scary.)

Stephanie starts to come around. Slowly. They’re getting there. (Stephanie still prefers to hangout with Tim and Tim…)

Tim ignores Reader the most. Will not talk to Reader at all. Which sucks because Teader thinks they would total get along. (But, nope. All they get is the cold shoulder.)

Reader just avoids Damian like the plague.

Reader talks more often to her other half-brother living miles away than the one she’s currently living with. (That’s gonna piss Damian off later)

While Barbara remains cordial.

Life is moving on. We’re good. Everything’s good.

Wait? Gotham Academy is having its own student Gala? That sounds amazing! Getting dolled up, having a night with friends. Maybe…. Having a date escort them….

And the best part is, Bruce says Reader can go.

Now, Cass and Duke and Damian won’t be going. Which is a bummer, but Reader understands.

Bruce even buys reader something to wear.

An obnoxious designer outfit. (A couture ruffle monstrosity that’s all the rage on the runway.)

It’s so terrible you have to laugh. (Just to hide how upsetting it is that no one actually knows what you like here or bothers to ask.)

Reader even shows Stephanie and they share a laugh. (It’s great. Reader needed that laugh.)

But, there’s no way Reader is going to wear this. So, Reader calls their childhood friend and favorite fashion designer.

Commissioning a more mature outfit. (Reader is almost grown, time to take a break from the ruffles and embrace the sexy.)

BFF comes through and then a week later someone shows up at Wayne Manor. (Damn that was fast.)

Someone from Reader’s hometown, and this starts to set things in motion.

BFF’s older brother, Reader’s childhood crush, shows up holding a dress and driving Daddy’s old truck. Which he hands Reader the keys too.

Nana and Grand Daddy, the Step Grandparents, wanted to surprise reader with a gift from home. (Remind Reader how much better living in a smalltown is compared to somewhere like Gotham. How much their town adores them and misses them.)

Poor oblivious Reader. Not realizing their smalltown is so desperate to have them back. (Reader was their’s first, they know Reader best.)

Nor how desperate Gotham is going to be to make force reader to stay.

[bunnygirllover45]

— The shape of love. ﹑◌﹒WARNINGS﹕Kidnapping, implied punishment, ugly jealousy, some descriptions of body harm ( just wounds or bruises, and it doesn't get too graphic), lots, and lots of deranged ramblings, it gets very dark at times. This is narrated from the POV of the Yandere, you can read this as a 'letter' of sorts.

♱ ✧ ⤷ Word count: 997 (felt lazy and I didn't reach 1k lmao.)

There you go again, looking at me with the same eyes as always.

I don’t know how many times I’ve repeated moments like this inside my head since the last time. It's been a while since I've been this close to you.

The trembling of your body lets me know that your excitement is as big as mine, is your body perhaps unable to contain all those bubbling feelings?

I grab your legs, my hands softly pressing against the flesh, feeling it under mine —so soft and delicate, for a moment I thought that maybe if I pushed my fingers inside of it I could spread it like a cloud made of cotton— when I pressed I could fee the shape of your bones underneath just a little, the sensation made my own body tremble.

It’s a shame you’re still shy to my touch, even if it’s something simple like a small caress or a kiss on the cheek you’re always trying to push away from me, I would love if you to cling onto me more when I do it or have you begging silently to do something more. I know you wouldn’t tell me with words, you’re not good with them.

Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard you say my name since I brought you here, no?

I should tell you what it is now so you could say it between sighs and I could engrave the sound on the back of my brain forever — those sweet sounds could captivate me forever.

I wonder if you’d say my name with a kind voice, or you’ll just talk to me with the same indifference and fear that’s so characteristic of you. I do admit that is kind of endearing, wild animals were always more interesting than domesticated ones thanks to their hostility, it makes me want to approach them, stick my hand, and see if they’ll bite me, or would just run away and hide in a corner.

I wouldn’t mind if you bit me, I would love to bite you as well in fact, I would wear that mark proudly and I would make sure you do it as well, we could bite our fingers and pretend the marks are our wedding rings, a testament of our love engraved on our skin.

Hahaha — I’m rambling again, please don’t get nervous, you know I usually get lost in my thoughts when I’m here with you, especially when my hands are idly dragging across your skin  — nails and all — leaving red marks behind.

I’m just tracing small invisible circles on your skin and you’re already getting goosebumps, I think that when I touch you delicately like this is when you fear it the most, right? I’m always keeping the momentum, you’ll never know when I can dig my nails into your skin or grab you and never let go.

I press a simple kiss on the skin of your heel, dragging my lips across the length of your leg, what a celestial feeling, there’s nothing in this world that could compare to this mere sensation. You’re trembling again, that makes me smile.

Sometimes when night falls and there are no more thoughts left to think inside my head my mind begins to wander off the path, usually it doesn’t lead me anywhere in particular, but since some time ago I’ve had this constant thought; there are other  —people— that had touched you like this before?

I would like to think that I’m the only one who had the privilege to enjoy all of you, that no other mark of fingers or teeth that doesn’t have the shape of mine has been on your skin.

Thinking like that makes sleeping easier for me.

I’m thankful that right now you can’t speak to me, because if I made you that question and you responded to me that yes, other people had marked you like I did, I think I would had the impulse to tear apart each part of you that has been tainted by them.

Not because I hate you, on the contrary, I just think I couldn’t live with the idea. That you belonged to someone else even if it was just for a moment, what am I saying? I don’t even like the idea of you belonging to yourself.

But if I were to do that, I think I’d like to go to extremes no other people could; kiss your open wounds or taste your blood, that would be romantic, don’t you think?

I press my face against your thighs while I keep dragging my nails up and down your legs, I sigh again, tilting my head slightly to take a better look at you, I can see myself reflected in your own eyes now, how romantic, just like in the movies you like to watch.

I like the me I see in your eyes, I like the idea that it belongs to you alone, the idea of you keeping each small expression I make just for you, each blink would be like a small photograph you take of me and keep inside your head, aaaalll yours.

My mother used to tell me that love is only true if you can see it reflected in the one you love,

From your red cheeks — was I too rough last night?

Your bruised knees — If you would just learn how to sit properly at the table already, it would make our meals more easy.

Your beautiful hands — You should stop trying to take off your handcuffs.

Your shining eyes — Is that a small tear I see? Maybe I should reach it and lick it, I wouldn’t like to go to waste.

Yes, I think for the first time something she said made sense, now that I took a better look at you, I don’t think there’s any better proof of this —

You’re the truest, most beautiful form of ‘love’.

[p1utofairy]

★ WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT IN REGARDS TO YOUR LOVE LIFE?

NOTE: miss me? hehe. i felt called to answer the bat signal (i saw y’alls messages in my ask box ILYSM) take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. thank y’all for the support always. 🫂

PILE ONE.

ooo this fall i do see a very solid romantic connection coming into fruition for you, pile 1. there’s such a high level of comfortability between you both it’s sooooo sweet and endearing. you could already be friends with this person, but if that’s not the case, they will be your best friend and lover wrapped into one. diary by alicia keys is coming to mind – wow! the energy is very sensual and venusian-like. maybe you or this person has taurus and/or libra placements? you two connect on such a deep spiritual level. i can just feel it, pile 1. opening up to this person will be so easy for you, which is crazy because i feel like you’re not vulnerable/open with just ANYBODY.

lay your head on my pillow, here you can be yourself. no one has to know what you are feeling, no one but me and you. OKAY BYE I’LL CRY RN?! the emotions between you two run very deep & i feel like you both will create such a calm, intimate and loving space for each other. this connection will be so healing — i’m picking up that either you or your person never truly knew what it felt like to have a strong support system or someone in your corner through thick and thin, but let me tell you something, pile 1. you and your person will show up and out for each other!

you might be a bit defensive or standoffish towards this person at first, because you’re afraid of being hurt or let down once again. however, i want you to know that it’s okay to open your heart and be receptive. some of you that picked this pile might have a scorpio moon, because i’m picking up that it’s really hard to knock down that wall you have built around yourself. this person wants to take the time out to get to know you, the REAL you, and all your little quirks and interests because there’s more that meets the eye when it comes to you. i feel like you compartmentalize different aspects and traits within yourself & suppress them to conform to what others think you should be/should act like — but your person is saying f*ck that. they are going to love you in all your glory.

i’m ngl you could see yourself settling down with this person. they’ll fulfill you in so many ways that others can't even imagine or measure up to. this person is going to take care of you & splurge on you. they have very dominant energy and you’re going to love that about them lol for some of you might f*ck around and have a baby with this person. for a small portion of this pile, they might already have a child from a previous relationship. if that’s not the case though, you’re just going to love how hands on they are with you (literally hehe) & how they take the lead and make all your dreams come true. your person also has a lot of sexual energy lol in the best way possible. it’s so sly and lowkey but you’ll be folding like a pretzel pile 1 LOL.

channeled messages:

pov by ariana grande, free mind by tems, touch my body by mariah carey, you’re the only one that i want, dangerously in love pt. 2 by beyoncé.

PILE TWO

i think you need to get yourself out there a little moreeee, pile 2. i think that you’ll have more opportunities to meet new people and have some fun experiences, but it’s up to you to go out there and mingle. you’ve been keeping to yourself for a while now and there’s nothing wrong with that. pulling your energy back & recharging is good for the soul, but you also need to step into your power and claim what’s yours. remember – whatever you want, wants you even more. you’re glowing tf up this fall, pile 2.

you’re definitely elevating and so many people are going to peep it, especially romantic suitors. get out of your heads my lovely pile 2’s and open your mind + your heart to the limitless possibilities and opportunities that await you. you downplay yourself too much! TALK YOUR SHIT. you’re gonna have a couple love interests trying to get your attention & shooting their shot and it might throw you off, but just go with it. f*ck it, the more the merrier. lol i’m kidding but seriously have some fun!

you’ll know who is worth the chance and who isn’t. some of you that picked this pile might be a little inexperienced when it comes to relationships/love, so you just need some side quests and test runs to decipher what you do and don’t like lol. i’m also picking up a situation-ship vibe from this pile as well – some of you might have a lot of options but all you can think about is one specific person. you might not be talking to them right now, but your guides don’t want you to worry too much about them. focus on how you can create the reality you want for yourself. you’re the main character of your story, don’t be a perpetual side character in somebody else’s. i’m getting a lot of different messages for this pile, but one of the main things that’s sticking out to me is that whoever you pick/choose to entertain, you will have intense sexual chemistry with that person lol. you won’t be able to fight it hehe it’ll be the start of something new and exciting, pile 2.

channeled messages:

body by summer walker, go out with your friends, lemon drop, out of my head lupe fiasco ft. trey songz.

PILE THREE.

oh my, pile 3. did y’all just get out of a relationship or situationship? it’s really giving that. i think you need to work on becoming more grounded, and enforce healthy boundaries with your romantic partners and just everyone in general tbh. you’re so giving and nurturing. you’re always pouring into others, but where are they when it’s time to pour into you? you’ve had to come to terms with this the hard way :( people think that because you’re so compassionate and forgiving that they can walk all over you. this feeling of frustration has bubbled up inside of you for so long now, that it makes you feel pessimistic when it comes to love.

your guides want you to release this energy and not let it set you back or deter you from opening yourself up to a new partner that can and will cherish you. your love is very powerful – you are a REAL lover! if you get knocked down, you’ll rise up 10x stronger. please remember that always. your love is divine, it’s pure and it’s simply addicting; that’s why people felt like they could just take and take and take without you saying anything to them. the person that you were previously connected to knows you have a good heart, but they don’t value it. i am very happy to let you know that there is a special someone out there that will, and they are coming towards you.

they will claim you loud & proud and be so greatful to have you in their life and by their side. your person is so encouraging and kind, yet a lil rough around the edges – you almost wouldn’t expect this from them. they’re definitely going to match your freak lol. physical touch + words of affirmation might be their love language too btw. i think you need to let go of your ex/previous situationship, and take a leap of faith into the unknown with this new person. their love will feel so freeing and refreshing <3 the love between you both will hold no bounds. you deserve this pile, 3.

channeled messages:

wait for you by future ft. drake & tems, i’ll be there for you/you're all i need by method man ft. mary j blige, maddy perez, mula, ketu-moon aspect, anything by SWV, the weekend by sza.

[moonstruckme]

request for Remus x reader, or poly!marauders x reader - A reader who seems more dominant in everyday life (managing group projects, generally independent, being a leader, etc.) maybe she's an older sibling or has parents that aren't all that responsible so she's had to take on that role.

But she settles into a more submissive energy with her partner(s) because she feels safe to do so, and lets them take charge. sorry if that's too specific! I hope it makes sense

no stress if this isn't your jam <3

Soft dom Rem you will always be famous <3 Thanks for requesting lovely!

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 651 words

“No, yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” You flash your boyfriend a terse smile as you come in the door, phone held between your face and your shoulder. Remus steps forward to take your bag from you, and you mouth a thanks as you set down your keys. “That sounds like it would work fairly easily with my current plan, I wouldn’t mind incorporating that. No—of course—no worries, I appreciate your help.”

Remus starts to ease you out of your jacket, and it’s a struggle to keep from sighing at the casual care in his touch as you continue talking to the person on the other line. “Okay, are you free to meet on Thursday to finalize things?” You listen. Nod. “Perfect. I’ll get in contact with the others and figure out a time that works.” 

Remus hangs your jacket over a chair and goes to sit on the couch, motioning for you to follow. You make a gesture for one second and take your planner from your bag, grabbing a pen and taking the cap off with your teeth. “So you definitely can’t do after four? No, that’s cool, I’m just making sure.” You scribble down a couple of time ranges. “I’ll get back to you with what the others say. Okay, thanks! Talk soon.” 

You end the call with a sigh, leaving your planner faceup on the table so you’ll remember to call the others later. Remus waits until you’re looking at him before patting his thigh. 

Something unravels in you as you walk over to him obediently, settling yourself in his lap. 

“Hi,” you say, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and laying your head on his shoulder. 

“Hi.” A bit of bemusement makes its way into Remus’ tone at your obvious relief. He rests a hand on the small of your back. “Long day, sweetheart?” 

You hum. “Not bad. I just have this headache that won’t go away, so that made it feel longer.” 

Remus tuts, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your head protectively. “Why’s that, hm?” 

“Dunno,” you exhale, snuggling into him. “It’s getting better already, though.” 

“Hm.” He sounds dissatisfied. A second later, he’s holding you securely to his back, tipping you both forward as he reaches for the coffee table. You hear ice clinking. “Drink this.” 

Reluctantly, you take your face from his shoulder to accept the water bottle. It’s his, nearly full and ice cold. Remus strokes your hair as you sip from it, eyes soft with approval. 

“That’s enough managing people for today,” he says, not unkindly. “You’ve already done most of the work, you can send a text and let them coordinate their own meeting time.” 

You frown, taking your lips from the water bottle. “I would, but they’ll never actually respond if it’s in a group chat. Nobody replies if I don’t message them individually.” 

“They’ll have to figure it out.” He shrugs insouciantly. 

You feel your eyebrows pinch, another argument rising to your tongue, but it evaporates when Remus wraps a long-fingered hand around your jaw. 

He tilts your chin up towards him. “They shouldn’t need you to take care of everything in order for it to get done,” he says sternly. “If they start calling you again tonight, I want you to send them to voicemail. Understand?” 

“Yes,” you reply automatically, and Remus releases your chin as you sigh, letting you ignore the water bottle for a minute so you can fold yourself back into him. 

“Good.” He turns his head into yours, kissing your temple. “You were never going to get rid of this headache if you let them keep pestering you all night, dove. They’re like flies.” You laugh a little, and Remus scratches at your scalp rewardingly. “You can text them in a little bit. Let’s just stay here for a minute, yeah? Try to get you relaxed.”

[chaussetteblanche]

AHH i lived ur luke one do u think u can do another maybe like an enemies to lovers trope (sorry im a sucker for enemies to lovers)☺️

hi babe !! thanks for requesting ! don't apologise we're all on our knees and begging for enemies to lovers <3

I hate you

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : you and luke have been mortal enemies for months, will things change because of a quest? word count: 2.3k warnings : swear words, description of a wound

Luke had hated you since your first day at camp. To this day, you had no idea why. But after months of letting snark comments and aggressive capture the flags slide, you’d decided you had had enough. That had been the moment you'd officially become enemies. 

When he'd jeer at you, you'd bite back with even more venom. If you made him drop his sword at capture the flag, he’d come after you with his bare hands. When one hit, the other hit back harder. It was constant war. 

The rest of camp never understood this hatred you both harboured for one another. Singularly, you were both kind, generous and intelligent people. The kind of people you’d expect to get along fine and even become good friends. But no, it was always one thing after the next. 

So imagine your horror when a relatively new camper was chosen for a quest and found nothing better to do than pick you and your mortal enemy to accompany him. It was your worst nightmare come true. You froze when both your names resounded in the agora. 

You choked, coughed and held back from spluttering, refusing to embarrass yourself. You smoothed down your camp shirt and nodded. You did not look at Luke, even though you could feel his heated glower on your skin. He would probably find a way to blame you for this. Chiron looked between you and Luke with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. You could almost hear what he was thinking. Nonetheless, he abided. 

Walking back to your cabin to prepare your things, you could hear the word actively spreading behind you.  "Did you hear that-" "Yeah, he’s chosen Luke and-" "They’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other." Rolling your eyes, you shut yourself in your cabin and leaned back on the closed door. You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, groaning. This was going to be nightmare.

And it really was. By hour 12 of the quest, you’d managed to get yourself thrown out of a train, fought off two harpies and had lost Luke.  "Where the hell did he go?" you asked loudly as you and Alan, the young camper, walked in direction of your next task. "He couldn’t have just disappeared!" "I don’t know, maybe he’ll join us later on." Alan shrugged. You frowned.  "Do you know anything about this?" You slowly turned to to him and he took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, I-" "I’d suggest you think twice before lying to me, Alan," you growled. Alan sighed. "Yes, he told me he wanted to see how badly you did on your own so he could report it to camp." "Right." Of course. Of course he would find a way to make the dangerous quest even harder than it needed to be. You inhaled deeply, trying to remind yourself not to take your anger out on this thirteen year-old child. Your blood boiling, you turned back around and continued to walk. If Luke wanted to stay behind, that was fine with you. Better that than have him be in your way. 

"Oi!" Called a voice about an hour later. Ugh, Luke. You ignored him, keeping a steady pace. He called your name again. You didn’t react until his hand came down on your shoulder.  Before he could say another word, you spun around and pushed him up against the nearest tree, your forearm pressing down on the column of his throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are," you snarled, close to his face, "to leave Alan and I alone? The quest comes before everything! It comes before your hatred for me and your stupid pettiness! So pull yourself together and stop fucking around! » You shoved yourself off him, glaring into his eyes. He looked at you darkly before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. "Yell at me again, princess, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream," he warned in a low voice. You scoffed, ripping your wrist out of his grip.  "Shut up and start walking, Castellan."

The quest went smoothly -as smoothly as it could go considering the tension between Luke and you- after that. You found that the three of you made a pretty good team. Everything was going fine and you had been on your way back to camp when you crossed a griffin. You pushed Alan behind you immediately, taking out your sword at the same time Luke did. "Distract him, I'll go around the side!" Luke ordered, running off. Despite not wanting to follow his orders, you set your jaw and instructed Alan to hide. You twisted your ring, a gift from your mother which turned into a shield when twisted the right way, and waited for the shield to form before banging your sword against it.

"Over here, you stinking pile of feathers! Or should I say fur?" You yelled as you ran backwards, away from Alan. You continued banging your sword against your shield and watched as Luke charged forward from the griffin's unguarded side. The beast shrieked as it was struck and batted Luke away with its large wing. Luke flew to the side with an 'oomph' sound. Despite your despise for him, you felt surprisingly concerned.

You darted forward as the griffin raised one of its clawed feet, ready to strike down Luke, who was slowly getting to his feet. The loud clang of claws meeting the metal of your shield made him look up quickly. You were straining underneath the power of the monster, pushing back against your shield with all of your strength. "Fucking. Move." You managed to speak through clenched teeth. Luke finally snapped out of his daze and bolted to the side. You readied yourself before jumping to the side, out of the griffin's reach -or so you thought. He swapped at you with his other clawed foot and despite you trying to run out of the way, managed to cut a gash in your side. You cried out. You heard Luke and Alan scream your name, but they felt far away.

You spun around, livid, and cut off the beast's hand as it came down towards you once more. Luke took his chance and stabbed the monster in the chest. The three of you watched as the creature turned to dust. You fell to your knees. Luke was next to you in a second, breathing heavily. He laid you down in the grass, muttering to himself. "Show me," he ordered, lifting your shirt up to reveal your stomach. You squirmed both from the strange feeling of having his eyes on your revealed body and from the stinging pain of the cut. "Gods- how bad it is?" you asked. The sound of Alan vomiting was indication enough. Luke bit his bottom lip, brows furrowed. "It's fixable. You just need ambrosia and a healer." "Really?" You hated the way your voice sounded so weak. Luke nodded strongly. "Trust me." And for some reason, you found that you did. He stood up and sheathed his sword before gesturing for Alan to take your bag.

"Can you walk?" he asked, though it sounded like more of a formality than a real question. You lifted yourself up on your elbows and groaned in pain. You shook your head, hating the fact that you had to rely on him of all people for help. "Okay, then." Luke bent forward, going to pick you up. "Wait." He stopped immediately. His eyes snapped up to your face, which had gone frighteningly white. You were staring at the gash across your stomach. It went from the top of ribs to the side of your belly button. And it did not look good. The cut was jagged and blood poured out all over your clothes. Luke watched, helpless, as your fingers reached out to touch the cut. You hissed in pain before looking up into his eyes.

"I'm going to die." Your voice shook dangerously. He hated the way your eyes watered and the way you looked so scared. He'd never seen you look that way before and he wanted to wipe the sight from his memory. You did not have a face that was meant to look frightened. You had a face which was meant for pride and victory. "Look at me." He grabbed your chin and kneeled next to you. "You are not going to die." He pulled a spare T-shirt out of his bag, balled it up and pressed down on your wound with it. "I know, it hurts," he cooed as you whimpered with pain. "Hold it here."

Ignoring your groans of pain, he pulled you into his arms and stood up. Your vision was becoming blurry, but you did all you could to keep pressing down on your wound with his T-shirt. You heard him bark out orders to Alan in the distance. "Luke," you spoke softly as black dots danced in your vision. "No, no, no, don't close your eyes, princess. Keep looking at me." "I don't wanna die," you whispered before passing out. Luke clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, ordering Alan to keep up with him. "Idiot. You're not gonna die. I won't let you."

You awoke to a soft yellow light surrounding you. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked around to find yourself in the camp infirmary. Luke was on a chair beside your bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Hey." "Hi," you croaked, trying to sit up. Wobbly, you managed to sit somewhat straight against the pillows. "How're you feeling?" Luke asked, looking over your face. He was relieved it to find it less white that it had been two days before. "Like shit, really." You let out a hoarse chuckle. He laughed shortly, looking down at his hands. You were surprised to find it was a really nice sound. That had been the first time you'd ever heard him laugh, and it felt really good to be the cause of it. "How long have I been out?" "Two days and a half." You were quiet for a moment as you thought back to the last things you remembered. "I guess I should thank you for saving my life, Castellan."

Luke let out something close to a scoff and leaned back in his chair. "You saved mine first. Thank you." "Well, yeah." You coughed. "I couldn't just let you die like-" "I don't hate you, you know," he interrupted you. You stopped talking. "Not really."

"What do you mean you don't hate me? Of course you do. You can't stand me. You think everything I do is stupid and bound to failure." "No, I- I don't hate you. I'm envious of you. Of what you have." "Of what I have? I have a fucking hole in my stomach right now, Caste-" "Of your mom. Mostly."

Your lips made an 'O' shape as you understood. Suddenly, everything made sense. That was why he'd disliked you from the start. You had the one thing he never would. Your mother was a minor goddess and did not have many children. This permitted her to be frequently in contact with you and therefore play the role of a present mother. Your father always kept in touch with you. You knew that with each of them you would always have someone to turn to. Unlike Luke.

"Mostly?" you asked, tilting your head to the side. "I'm envious of how whenever you walk into a room, it immediately lights up. Of how everyone likes you. Of how you always look good, even if you've just been torn to pieces by a griffin. Of how you always seem to see the good in people, except for me, I guess. Of how you get along with everyone except for me." Luke didn't meet your eye as he spoke. "Maybe if you hadn't been such an ass when we first met, we'd have gotten along fine. And I do see the good in you, I just like to ignore it for my own benefit." Luke's eyes shot up to yours.

"What do you mean 'your own benefit'?" "Well, if I didn't ignore the way you're so kind to the new kids, the way you're so protective of your friends and Annabeth, the way you stand up for what you think is right, the way your eyes look when they catch the light just right and the way your laugh seems to draw everybody in, then maybe... Maybe I wouldn't dislike you at all. Quite the contrary, actually." You could feel your heart hammering inside your chest as you spoke. The way Luke was staring into your soul was not helping either.

"Say something, Luke," you pleaded. His first name felt soft and foreign on your tongue. You had never said it before.

Luke did not answer. Wordlessly, he stood up and was by your side in two steps. He cupped your cheek, leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. Your heart raced and when he pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips. He looked deeply into your eyes and smiled before kissing you properly. Eruptions exploded in your stomach as you kissed him back. You pulled him closer by the shirt as his warm lips pressed against yours. Finally, you couldn't help but think. All those feelings you'd ignored and pushed to the back of your mind finally broke free and you almost cried from relief.

His free hand found the back of your neck and you shivered as his fingers caressed the skin there. You leaned into his touch and cupped his jaw before slowly sliding a hand into his hair. He let out a soft moan but before you could get too into it, a cough resounded throughout the room.

"I'm glad to see that you and Luke have managed to work through your differences, Y/N." Chiron spoke, amusement dripping from his words, as he trudged into the room. "Now tell me about your quest."

[kyunzin]

Hii could you do jealousy nsfw hcs for kaiser aiku and sae with fem reader? Thank you if you do

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

characters; 𝐊. 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐀. 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐈. 𝐒𝐚𝐞

cw; them being jealous (f!reader)

tags; nsfw, public sex, shower sex, marking, wall sex, creampie

a/n; sorry this took so long

𝐊. 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥

✰ anyone, especially his teammates, acting too friendly with you can set him off.

✰ he doesn’t say anything in the moment but you know something’s wrong when he goes quiet and slips a possessive arm around you.

✰ it’s only a matter of time before he’s taking the two of you away from the scene leaving everyone confused at your sudden retreat.

✰ he doesn’t take you home but brings you back to the boys locker room and corners you.

✰ “you didn’t know what they we’re doing, don’t lie to me”

✰ even when you deny he still isn’t satisfied lifting you by the back of your thighs and bringing you to the showers.

✰ he fucks you in the showers not bothering to contain your sounds slapping his pelvis against your ass the wetness from the running shower creating unmistakable sounds of your cunt being pounded.

✰ “scream louder. make sure they know who’s fucking you”

✰ once the both of you finally finish you get dressed but he makes you put on one of his jerseys bringing you back out to everybody.

✰ there’s no doubt that they heard you, from the way their cheeks are rosy and how they have their head down in shame.

✰ you however stay quiet slightly leaning into him with a slight limp as you walk around with him head held down.

✰ he walks with a proud smirk on his face head held high rejoining conversations as if he wasn’t balls deep inside of you mere seconds earlier.

𝐀. 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

✰ sees some guy trying to approach you in the stands, even when you decline he still trues to push himself onto you so you move away and find a better seat.

✰ he plays the rest of the game with a newfound agression that scores him 2 goals.

✰ after the match he finds you quicky telling the security about the guy before taking you you back home.

✰ you barely make it back to the bedroom before he’s hastily striping you of you clothes and fucking you against the wall.

✰ kissing dark bruises all over your neck and back, firm grip on your hips as he leaves a few bite marks along the side of your throat.

✰ “maybe if I leave enough marks they’ll leave ya alone”

✰ the both of you cum once like that and he still has enough resolve to carry you to the bedroom where he focuses his attention on the front of your body.

✰ leaving love bites up along the inside of your thighs before eating you out hungrily, nipping the side of your thigh when you try to push him away adding to his litter of marks.

✰ once he’s made you cum on his tongue and fingers he crawls over you and adds more marks up your chest and neck while slowly fucking you only stopping when your covered with his marks.

✰ “anyone who tries to do anything after seeing this is fucking stupid”

✰ he takes a photo of the two of you, all the marks on you neck on display and captions it ‘property of oliver aiku’.

✰ the next game he takes you to he makes you wear a short skirt and a v neck crop top showing of the dozen of marks he left daring you to try and cover them up.

✰ needless to say nobody bothers you that game or any others, they know that he’s claimed you as his.

𝐈. 𝐒𝐚𝐞

✰ it’s the same as oliver however instead of being harassed in public people are making comments about your relationship online.

✰ ‘I can treat you better’, ‘bet I could make you feel better than he does’, ‘I’ll show you how a real man treats a woman’

✰ people only see what the two of you are like outside, how he keeps an almost professional distance from you and create speculations in their head.

✰ once he’s had enough of all their delusions he decides to take out his frustrations on you, not that you mind.

✰ “think those assholes will treat you better than I can baby? i’m the only one good enough for you”

✰ after a match he makes sure to pull you into a heated kiss whil e all the cameras focus on you the crowd and his teammates whistling loudly.

✰ it gets posted everywhere and all the comments stopped except a few brave unnamed commenters who still feel they could do better than him and it doesn’t quell his jealousy.

✰ straight after the game he takes you home roughly fucking you into the mattress, bullying your pussy with his girthy cock, pushing your head down into the sheets.

✰ “do I not fuck you good enough, what more should a whore like you need”

✰ he fucks you multiple times that night the bed under you soaked with your mixed cum

✰ your left with your legs trembling, throat sore from screaming and your cunt well fucked and stuffed with his cum

✰ after that he doesn’t worry about the comments because he knows he’s the only one that can fuck you this good

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[helluvapoison]

Kisses

leaving kiss a mark on adam, lute and lucifer

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He meets this weird in between where he doesn’t get makeup and will complain about it sometimes

• (People are looking at you, if you wanted his attention you have it now, you don’t need it, blah blah blah)

• But he also loves seeing you wear it

• Secretly, he revels in the way people stare because you’re his!

• At his concerts, Adam needs a kiss on the cheek right before he hops on stage. It completes the look he’s reaching for and acts as his good luck charm

• Outside of that, you don’t let him near your lips because you know he just wants to mess it up!

• “C’mon baby, it’s all I want in the whole world!”

• “Sucks to be you then because there’s absolutely no chance in—!”

• You hold the brush end of a broom at Adam as he makes a grab at you, laughing so hard he doubles over

• “You’re too easy, babe! Quit overreacting, I just want a little smooch before I head out.”

• “Oh no, I don’t think so! You throw a tantrum when everyone looks at me. Don’t you think they’ll be staring when you have a giant kiss mark on your lips?”

• “Who said it had to be the lips?”

• You raise the broom over your head in warning

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• It’s comical how cautious she gets around you when you wear lipstick

• One would think you’re carrying a weapon around, what with the way she keeps you at arms length

• PDA disgusts her. Technically, sure, it doesn’t count but the gist of it sets Lute on edge

• She can’t remember if that’s Heaven’s doing or her own, but she would be mortified if someone caught her with even a hint of lipstick on her face

• She would love a kiss goodbye but doesn’t trust your devious mind

• “I have to go!”

• “Then go!” You laugh, hopping over the couch to continue chasing her

• Lute screeches with laughter when you get too close for comfort, “Don’t you dare!”

• You wouldn’t, you just like teasing her

• You hold up your hands to placate her, tilting your head to the side so she can plant a kiss on your cheek instead

• “You better believe you’re getting a big kiss right there when you get back.” You say, deadly serious, tapping her cheek

• Lute wouldn’t have it any other way

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• There’s nothing he wants more than for you to have a constant claim on him

• A touch of you somehow, someway, somewhere on him ignites a visceral reaction

• Lipstick marks are no acception

• In fact they’re possibly the worst thing you could do to Lucifer if he had something that needed to get done that day

• One on his cheek— oh but now you have to make the other one even!

• Could you plop one on his forehead? How about his nose? Chin? Lips?

• Lucifer will stare at himself in the mirror, admiring your work with a dazed expression and a heavy blush

• He wants pictures too! Lots of selfies, please and thank you

• You thought I was joking? No, the rest of the day goes by like this

• “Waitwaitwait!” “You missed a spot!” “I need one more picture!”

• He crosses his arm and pouts as you wipe his face clean

• You’re careful not to wear lipstick if you know he has to go out because you can’t not give him a kiss goodbye, that would be ludacris!

• Lucifer checks to see if you’re wearing any too but for the opposite reason, disappointment evident on his face

• “Later,” You promise, pressing your lips to his temple and effectively melting away his dismay

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ 🐌 my friend! i personally don’t think these characters would be able to get away with having kiss marks on them in public but i didn’t want you to be dissapointed!! :(( i hope this is ok!!! xoxo

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too? | Final part

Joel miller x f!reader

previous part

chapter summary: Joel and you perhaps can have a happy ending.

w.c: 14,6k

warnings: angst, fluff, smut and poorly writing because I wrote in a rush and no proofreading.

a/n: Thank you to each one of you who read and enjoyed this fic. The amount of love was overwhelming and I'm thankful for it. This is the last chapter and I tried to make everyone happy with it. By the end, I realized I lost the main plot, but still, it was fun to write but I got bored AND I became a people pleaser with this chapter. Perhaps there will be more of them, some drabbles or things, but thank you so much for reading. I don't think I will write more series for a while, only one shots. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading, so much love for you. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You felt the beating of your heart racing as Joel kept staring at you. Those soft brown eyes on looking at you with delicate love now seemed to be a picture you wanted to save and remember as along as you could.

You wanted to find that sense of belonging to someone in a romantic way again, to be protected, to be loved.

“Good morning, Joel” You smiled at him

Joel shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace, pulling you against his chest. You nestled into his warmth, feeling safe and content in his arms.

Joel’s hand gently traced patterns on your back, and he chuckled softly. “You know… we forgot to go to Tommy’s last night,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You looked up at him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I think we had more important things on our minds,” you teased lightly, your fingers brushing against his chest.

Joel’s smile widened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, I guess we did,” he agreed, his voice filled with warmth.

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of lightness and happiness that had been missing for so long. “I’m sure they’ll understand,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder.

Joel sighed contentedly, holding you a little tighter. “I’m just glad you’re here.” he murmured; his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “That’s all that matters.”

But as he kept his arms wrapped around you, you felt your thought drifting away. You knew you should feel content, but you couldn’t help but think this was a moment of weakness or that may everything you had lived with Joel had been like this.

You didn’t feel the warmth enveloping your heart, but a heavy sense of guilt settled in your chest, weighing you down.

Your thoughts drifted back to your fiancé, to your son. The memories of them were still vivid, the pain of their loss still fresh. How could you let yourself find comfort in someone else’s arms? It felt like a betrayal, like you were somehow dishonoring their memory by moving on. The guilt gnawed at you, making it hard to fully embrace the happiness that Joel was offering.

And then there was Lori. The guilt of her leaving Jackson, of the part you played in her departure, hung over you like a shadow. She had been hurt, her actions driven by a broken heart, and now she was gone because of it. You had wanted her gone, yes, but now that it had happened, it didn’t feel right.

You shifted slightly in Joel’s arms, the weight of your thoughts making it hard to stay still. Joel noticed, his grip on you loosening just enough for him to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

“Nothing,” you lied, avoiding his gaze as you tried to push the guilt and unease to the back of your mind.

Joel didn’t press you further, but the concern in his eyes didn’t fade. Instead, he shifted slightly, his grip on you loosening just enough to give you some space. “Do you want to sleep a little bit more?” he asked, his tone gentle, as if he was trying to offer you an escape from whatever was troubling you.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. The weight of your emotions felt overwhelming, and the last thing you wanted was to burden Joel with your fears and doubts. But the way he was looking at you, with so much care and understanding, made it hard to keep everything bottled up.

Joel’s hand found yours again, his fingers lacing with yours in a comforting grip. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Sleep a little bit more. I’ll wake you up, later”

You hesitated for a moment, then gave in to the exhaustion that had been weighing on you. You turned back onto the pillow, feeling Joel’s warm presence beside you, and let your eyes close.

As you drifted off, you felt Joel’s hand still holding yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

A little while later, you woke up to the sound of hushed voices in the next room. Blinking sleepily, you realized Joel was no longer beside you. The warm spot where he'd been lying was now cool, and the faint murmur of conversation piqued your curiosity.

Quietly, you got out of bed, slipping on the oversized shirt Joel had given you the night before. You moved toward the door, careful not to make any noise as you approached the source of the voices.

You leaned closer to the doorway, straining to hear the conversation.

“I just want to make sure she’s okay,” Joel said, his voice tinged with concern.

Tommy sighed, the sound carrying the weight of the situation. “I saw her this morning,” he replied. “She was at that old cabin near the outskirts—the one we used to take Ellie to when she was younger.”

Joel was silent for a moment, likely processing the information. “And she’s alright? She didn’t try to come back?”

Tommy hesitated before answering. “She seemed... lost, Joel. But she didn’t make any move to come back to Jackson. She knows she’s not welcome here anymore, but she’s not exactly stable either.”

You felt a pang of guilt hearing this. Despite everything that had happened, part of you couldn’t help but feel sorry for Lori. She had lost so much, and now she was completely alone.

“Do you think she’ll stay out there?” Joel asked, his voice quieter now, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to Tommy.

Tommy let out a weary breath. “I don’t know. She’s unpredictable. But as long as she’s not causing trouble in Jackson, we might be able to avoid any more problems.”

Joel didn’t respond right away, and you could feel the tension hanging in the air. You knew he was torn, worried about what Lori might do next but also reluctant to push her further away.

Tommy spoke up again, “I know you care about her- “

“Don’t” Joel cut in sharply, his voice rough with emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "It's not about that, Tommy”

Tommy nodded, understanding the weight behind Joel's words. "You can't carry all this on your own. She made her choices, Joel. You can't save everyone."

Joel looked away; the strain evident in his clenched jaw. He wanted to protect everyone, to make sure no one else got hurt, but deep down, he knew Tommy was right. Lori was a wild card, and he couldn't control what she would do.

Tommy placed a hand on Joel's shoulder, his voice gentler now. "You’ve got something good here, Joel. Don’t let the past mess that up."

Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. "I know, Tommy. I just… I don’t want her to come back and cause more trouble."

Tommy squeezed his shoulder, then released him, giving Joel space to process. "We'll keep an eye on her. If she comes back, we'll deal with it. But right now, you need to focus on what’s in front of you."

Joel finally nodded, the tension slowly easing out of his body. "Yeah, you're right."

But as the conversation faded, you stepped out from where you'd been standing, your heart heavy with the burden of what you'd overheard. You didn’t want to cause more strain between Joel and Tommy, but the mention of Lori staying out there worried you just as much as it did Joel.

you quietly stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, making your presence known. Tommy’s eyes flickered towards you, surprise momentarily crossing his face before it softened into something more understanding.

Joel noticed Tommy’s gaze shift and turned to see you standing there. His expression instantly softened, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes, as if he was concerned about what you might have overheard.

Tommy offered a small nod in your direction, a silent acknowledgment that you were part of this now, whether Joel fully accepted it or not. "I’ll give you two a moment," Tommy said, his tone gentle as he glanced back at Joel.

"Thanks," Joel muttered, his eyes never leaving yours.

Tommy patted Joel on the back before turning to leave. As he passed by you, he gave you a reassuring smile, one that carried the weight of unspoken support. Then, with a final glance at Joel, Tommy walked out, leaving the two of you alone.

The room was quiet now, the only sound being the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Joel’s gaze was heavy on you, filled with concern and an emotion you couldn’t quite place. He took a tentative step towards you, his hand reaching out as if he was unsure whether he should touch you.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice low and full of meaning.

"Hey," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. "You heard us, didn’t you?"

You nodded; your heart still heavy with everything you’d overheard. "Yeah, I did."

Joel let out a slow breath, his hand sliding down your arm to take your hand in his. "I didn’t want you to worry."

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to Joel, letting him wrap his arms around you. His embrace was warm, but the tension in the air was undeniable.

After a few moments, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a serious expression. “Joel,” you began, your voice quiet but firm, “where’s this cabin Tommy was talking about? Where did Lori go?”

Joel’s expression tightened, and he sighed heavily. “It’s an old place, just outside Jackson. We used to use it as a lookout spot, but it’s been abandoned for a while. Lori… she’s been staying there since she left.”

You nodded, processing the information. “Is she okay?”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, clearly conflicted. “Tommy saw her this morning. She’s alive. That’s what matters for now.”

You felt a knot forming in your stomach, a mix of guilt and concern churning inside you. “I feel like this is my fault,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel immediately shook his head, his grip on your arms tightening slightly. “Don’t you dare think that,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “Lori made her own choices. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. This isn’t on you.”

“But she’s out there, alone,” you argued, the worry evident in your tone.

Joel’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. “You didn’t push her away. She wasn’t safe to be around, and you know that. We can’t save everyone, no matter how much we might want to.”

Joel’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a mix of emotions he seemed to be wrestling with. He didn’t answer right away, as if he was carefully choosing his words. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady. “Lori… she was important, yeah. But not in the way you’re thinking.”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest, but you held his gaze, needing to hear the rest.

“She was a part of my life, a part of my past,” Joel continued, his hands still gently holding your face. “But that’s what it is—my past. We went through things together, things that bonded us in a way, but it was never like this.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “What I feel for you… it’s different. It’s real, and it’s now.”

You searched his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity and something deeper—something that made your heart ache in a way that was both painful and comforting.

“Lori’s out there because of her choices, not because of anything you did,” Joel added, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a soothing motion. “And if she ever decides to come back, we’ll deal with it together. But right now, I’m here with you, and that’s what matters to me.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief mixed with lingering guilt. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason she’s hurting.”

Joel shook his head again, his expression firm. “You’re not. And you can’t carry that burden, okay? She left you out there to die.”

Joel’s words hit you like a punch to the gut, the reality of the situation sinking in even deeper. He wasn’t sugarcoating it—he was telling you the harsh truth you’d been trying to avoid. Lori had left you to fend for yourself and abandoned you in a way that had nearly cost you everything.

“She made her choices,” Joel continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “And those choices weren’t about you—they were about her. She’s got her demons, her reasons, but that doesn’t excuse what she did. You did nothing wrong by protecting yourself.”

You looked down, the guilt still gnawing at you, but Joel’s hand moved to your chin, gently lifting your face so you had to meet his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering. “You’re here, with me, because you survived. Because you fought to live. Don’t let her take that away from you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Joel was quick to wipe it away with his thumb, his touch tender. “I know it’s hard,” he whispered. “I know it’s gonna take time to let go of the guilt. But you have to try, for your sake. For us.”

You nodded, feeling a little more of that heavy weight lift off your shoulders. Joel was right—you couldn’t let Lori’s choices define you or what you had now with him.

“I’m trying,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’m really trying.”

Joel’s expression softened even more, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, as if sealing a promise. “That’s all I ask,” he murmured against your lips.

You kissed him back, but this time his lips didn’t taste to a sweet fruit you crave on summer but like the bitter liquor you drank after a hard day as it a sip could take your demons away.

Joel pulled back from the kiss, his gaze lingering on yours with a mix of concern and affection. He could sense the turmoil still brewing inside you, even as you tried to put on a brave face. He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair, clearly reluctant to leave you like this.

“I’ve got to head out for patrol,” he said, his voice laced with reluctance. “But please… don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” His eyes searched yours, silently pleading with you to stay safe, to not let your guilt drive you to something reckless.

You nodded, giving him a small, tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt the knot in your stomach tighten.

Joel hesitated, as if debating whether to push further, but eventually, he nodded. “I’ll see you later,” he said softly, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he turned to leave.

You watched him go, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. As soon as the door closed behind him, you felt the quiet settle in, amplifying the thoughts swirling in your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to do something—something more than just waiting and hoping things would get better.

Your mind kept drifting back to Lori. Despite everything Joel had said, the guilt gnawed at you, relentless and unyielding. She was out there, alone, and even though you knew she had made her choices, you couldn’t help but feel responsible.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized you couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. You needed to see her, to talk to her, to try and make things right in whatever way you could. Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was reckless, but you felt like it was something you had to do.

You couldn’t bear the thought of a woman out there alone, just as you were not long time ago. You didn’t want anyone to go through that pain.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess the decision, you got up and quickly changed into clothes more suitable for the cold outside. You grabbed your jacket, slipping it on as you glanced around your small home, making sure you had everything you needed.

You knew Joel would be furious if he found out what you were planning, but you couldn’t let that stop you. This was something you had to do, for your own peace of mind. You left the house, pulling the door shut behind you, and started making your way toward the outskirts of Jackson, where you knew the old cabin Lori had been staying in was located.

As you walked, the snow crunched beneath your boots, and the chill in the air seemed to match the cold knot of anxiety in your chest. You couldn’t predict how Lori would react to seeing you again, but you knew you had to try. You had to at least make the effort, even if it was dangerous, even if it meant facing whatever might come next on your own.

The journey to the old cabin where Lori was staying felt longer than it actually was. Every step you took was weighed down by the uncertainty of what awaited you. The cold bit at your skin, the wind whispering through the trees like a warning, but you pressed on, driven by a need to confront what had been gnawing at you since she left.

The cabin finally came into view, tucked away in a secluded area surrounded by thick trees. It looked as worn and isolated as you remembered, with smoke lazily curling from the chimney, indicating that someone was inside. You hesitated at the edge of the clearing, taking a moment to gather your thoughts and calm the racing of your heart.

With a deep breath, you moved forward, your footsteps careful and deliberate as you approached the door. You paused, hand hovering over the wooden surface, the reality of what you were about to do sinking in. But there was no turning back now. You had come this far, and you needed to see it through.

You knocked lightly, the sound echoing in the stillness. For a moment, there was no response, and you wondered if she was even there. But then, you heard movement from inside—a shuffling of feet, the creak of old floorboards—and the door slowly opened.

Lori stood in the doorway, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw you. She looked different, more worn and tired than the last time you had seen her, but there was still a fierceness in her gaze, a hardness that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you as if trying to decide whether to slam the door in your face or let you in.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, her voice flat, but with an edge of suspicion.

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves. “I came to talk,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet her gaze.

“Can I come in?”Lori’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought she might refuse. But then, with a sigh, she stepped aside, allowing you to enter. The cabin was as sparse as you remembered, with only the bare essentials scattered around—a small table, a few chairs, a cot in the corner, and the fire crackling in the hearth. It was warm inside, but the tension between you made the air feel heavy.

Lori closed the door behind you, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall, watching you with a guarded expression. “Does Joel know you’re here?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

You shook your head. “No,” you admitted. “I came on my own.”

Lori raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your motives. “Why? What do you want?”

“I want to talk,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervousness you felt. “I wanted to see if… if there’s any way, we can work this out.”

Lori’s expression hardened at your words, and she shook her head almost immediately. “I’m not going back,” she said firmly. “There’s nothing for me there.”

“Lori, please,” you implored, taking a step closer. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can find a way to make it work. You don’t have to stay out here, isolated from everyone.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head again. “You think it’s that simple?

“I don’t think it’s simple,” you replied, your voice softening. “But I don’t think it’s impossible either. We’ve all made mistakes. We’ve all done things we regret. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep punishing yourself.”

Lori’s gaze softened for just a moment, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by that same hard look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, turning away from you and staring into the fire.

“I know you’re hurting,” you said, taking another step closer. “I know you feel like you’ve lost everything. But running away won’t fix it. It won’t make the pain go away.”

Lori’s shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time since you arrived, she seemed to waver. She didn’t respond, just stood there, staring into the flames as if searching for answers in the flickering light.

“You don’t love him,” Lori said, her tone laced with bitterness. “I bet every time you see Joel, you wish he were the one you lost when this world went to shit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, the accusation stinging deep. You stood there, unable to respond immediately, the truth of her statement gnawing at you. Lori finally looked up; her eyes hard as they met yours.

“Am I wrong?” she pressed; her gaze unwavering.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but the guilt you had been carrying made it difficult. “It’s not like that,” you finally said, your voice shaky.

“Isn’t it?” Lori challenged, standing up and taking a step closer to you.

You felt your chest tighten, her words cutting deeper than you expected. “Lori, you don’t understand,” you started, but she cut you off.

“No, you don’t understand,” Lori spat, her voice rising. “You’re just using him to fill the void left by whoever you lost. You’re not in love with him—you’re in love with a memory.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You could feel your resolve crumbling, the truth in her accusation tearing at you. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t entirely true. Yes, you had lost someone, and yes, the pain of that loss was still with you. But what you felt for Joel was real.

She took a step closer, her eyes fierce and unyielding. “I know it because I had my Joel before,” she continued, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke. “I lost him when the outbreak happened, and I spent years crying over him, wishing he was still here.”

You could see the pain in her eyes, the same pain that had haunted you for so long. “And then Joel came along,” Lori went on, her voice now softer, tinged with regret. “I wanted Joel to be my lover because I felt broken, and he was the only one who made me feel whole again. But it wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to me.”

You felt a pang of empathy for Lori, understanding now that you weren’t the only one struggling with feelings of loss and confusion. But that didn’t make her words any easier to hear.

“Lori,” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “I know what you’re saying. I know I’ve been holding on to the past, and maybe I haven’t been fair to Joel. But what I feel for him...I love him and he loves me.”

Lori's expression shifted, the hardness in her eyes softening ever so slightly. You could see the conflict within her, the struggle between the pain she carried and the understanding she was trying to find.

"The world is too shitty for us to be fighting over a man," you continued, your voice steadier now. “We’ve all lost so much, and I know you’re hurting too. But this... this isn’t worth tearing each other apart.”

Lori looked away, her gaze falling to the floor as she let out a long breath. “You’re right,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve been through too much to waste our energy on this.”

There was a long silence between you, the tension slowly ebbing away as the weight of your shared pain settled between you. Finally, Lori looked up, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of resignation and acceptance.

“I just... I just wanted to feel like I mattered again,” she said, her voice breaking. “And Joel... he made me feel that way, even if it was just for a little while.”

You took a step closer, your heart aching for her. “You do matter, Lori. To Joel, to Jackson. But you can’t find your worth in someone else. You have to find it in yourself.”

Lori nodded slowly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know,” she whispered. “I know that now.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the cabin. It wasn’t forgiveness, not completely, but it was a step towards understanding—a fragile truce in a world that had taken so much from both of you.

“Come back to Jackson,” you said gently. “It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to be alone.”

You looked at Lori, seeing the pain and confusion in her eyes. The firelight cast flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the raw vulnerability she was trying to hide. Her question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of what had happened between you.

“I know what you did,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the memories that threatened to surface. “And I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt, or that I wasn’t scared. But I also know that this world has twisted all of us in ways we never could have imagined.”

Lori’s gaze dropped to the floor, shame and regret evident in her expression. You took a deep breath, knowing that what you were about to say would expose a part of yourself you usually kept hidden.

“I’m doing this because I don’t want to be the kind of person this world wants me to be. I don’t want to be consumed by hate, or let fear rule my decisions. And I don’t want you to be that person either. We’ve lost so much, Lori. But we don’t have to lose ourselves.”

She looked up at you, her eyes wide and searching, as if she was trying to understand why you would offer her this chance at redemption. “But how can you forgive me?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “After everything I did... how can you just let it go?”

“I’m not letting that go,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “But we keep moving forward. We can’t change what’s happened, but we can choose what we do next. I’m choosing to believe that there’s still good in you, and that you deserve a chance to find it again.”

Lori blinked back tears, her tough exterior cracking just enough for you to see the pain and guilt she carried. “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You can,” you assured her. “It won’t be easy, but you can. And you won’t have to do it alone. Come back to Jackson. We can figure it out together.”

Lori hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. “And what about Joel?” she asked, her voice laced with fear. “What if he doesn’t want me back?”

“Joel’s angry,” you said honestly, “but he’s also someone who cares deeply about the people in his life. If you show him that you’re willing to change, I think he’ll find a way to understand. But you have to be willing to take that first step. Both of you will.” You paused, “Not romantically anymore, but as people living in the same place.”

Lori’s gaze lingered on you for a long moment, as if weighing your words. Finally, she nodded, a small, tentative movement that signaled her agreement. “I’ll try,” she whispered, her voice shaky but resolute. “I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all anyone can ask,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Let’s go back to Jackson. Together.”

“They voted me out” she said.

Your smile faltered as Lori’s words sank in. The realization of what that meant hit you like a punch to the gut. Being voted out of Jackson was more than just being asked to leave—it was a declaration that the community no longer trusted you, no longer believed you were safe to have around.

“They… they really did that?” you asked, your voice a mix of disbelief and sadness.

Lori nodded, her expression a mixture of bitterness and resignation. “Yeah. After what happened with you, and… everything else. They decided I wasn’t worth the risk.”

You could see the hurt in her eyes, the pain of being rejected by the only place that could offer any semblance of safety. And despite everything she had done, a part of you couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“Lori, I’m so sorry,” you said softly, the weight of her situation pressing down on you. “But maybe… maybe we can talk to them. I can vouch for you. Tell them you’re willing to make things right.”

Lori shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “It’s too late for that. Even if you could convince Joel, the rest of them won’t listen. They’ve made up their minds.”

You didn’t know what to say. The idea of leaving someone out there alone, especially someone who had been part of your community, felt wrong on every level. But you also knew how fragile trust was in this world, and how quickly it could be lost.

“Then what are you going to do?” you asked, your voice laced with concern.

“I don’t know,” Lori admitted, her shoulders slumping as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe find another group, if I can. Or just… survive on my own. It’s not like I have a lot of options.”

You took a deep breath, your mind racing for any solution that might keep Lori safe. "Come with me," you suggested, your voice urgent. "If they see us together, maybe it'll be different. Maybe they’ll understand, see that you’re willing to make things right."

Lori looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and doubt. For a moment, she seemed to consider it, her gaze flickering with a faint hope. But then she shook her head, her expression hardening as she looked away.

"No," she said firmly. "I can’t do that. If I come back with you, they’ll just see it as me hiding behind you. It’ll look like I’m trying to manipulate my way back in, and that’s not going to work. They’ll never trust me again, not unless I earn it on my own terms."

Her words stung because you knew she was right. Trust was fragile, especially in a world where survival depended on it. The community needed to see that she was willing to stand on her own, to prove herself without relying on someone else’s influence.

"But what if something happens to you out here?" you pressed, the thought of leaving her alone gnawing at you. "You’re safer in Jackson, with people who can help you."

Lori smiled sadly, a wistful look in her eyes. "I know the risks. But if I’m ever going to have a chance at getting back what I’ve lost, I have to do it my way. I’d rather have their approval than their pity."

You could see the determination in her eyes, the fierce independence that had kept her alive for so long. It was the same trait that made her both strong and dangerous, and you realized that there was nothing you could say to change her mind.

"Just… be careful, okay?" you said finally, your voice thick with emotion. "I don’t want to see you get hurt."

"I will," Lori promised, her voice softening as she met your gaze. "And thank you, for coming out here. For trying."

You nodded, a heavy sense of resignation settling in your chest. There was nothing more you could do, no more words that could bridge the gap between the two of you. All you could do was hope that Lori would find her way, that she would survive long enough to prove herself.

With one last look at her, you turned and made your way back to Jackson, the weight of the conversation lingering heavily on your shoulders. You knew that this wasn’t the end, not for Lori, not for you. But for now, all you could do was return to the life you had built, even as the echoes of the past threatened to pull you back.

As you walked away, Lori stood at the entrance of the cabin, watching you go, her expression unreadable. The distance between you grew, both physical and emotional until she was just a figure in the distance, a reminder of the choices that had brought you both to this point.

You arrived back in Jackson, the familiar sight of the town coming into view as you crossed the threshold. It was quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of the day beginning to wind down as the sun dipped lower in the sky. But as you approached the center of town, you could hear raised voices—Joel's voice, loud and angry, cutting through the stillness.

Following the sound, you found Joel near the gates, his posture tense as he argued with a couple of men who had been on watch duty. His face was a mask of frustration and fury, his fists clenched at his sides as he spoke.

"What the hell were you thinking, letting her go out on her own?" Joel barked, his voice carrying an edge that sent a chill down your spine. "You know damn well how dangerous it is out there!"

One of the men, looking both intimidated and defensive, tried to respond. "We didn’t think she’d go far, Joel. She’s handled herself before—"

"That’s not the point!" Joel snapped, cutting him off. "It’s not about whether she can handle herself. It’s about the fact that you let her go out there alone without telling anyone!"

The other man, clearly trying to diffuse the situation, spoke up. "We’re sorry, Joel. We didn’t think—"

"No, you didn’t," Joel growled, his anger barely contained. "And if something had happened to her…"

The rest of his sentence trailed off as his gaze shifted, and he finally noticed you standing there. His eyes narrowed, but unlike usual, his expression didn’t soften. Instead, there was a mix of relief, anger, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"Where the hell were you?" he demanded, his voice low and rough as he took a few steps toward you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the weight of his anger and concern made the words stick in your throat.

"I was…" you hesitated, knowing how furious he would be when he found out. "I went to see Lori."

Joel's eyes widened in shock, and then they darkened with anger. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he tried to process what you’d just said.

"You what?" he finally said, his voice dangerously quiet. "You went to see her? After everything that happened?"

You nodded, feeling small under the intensity of his gaze. "I had to. I needed to talk to her, to make sure she was okay. She’s out there, Joel, and she’s all alone."

Joel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to keep his anger in check. "And you thought it was a good idea to go out there by yourself? Without telling anyone?"

"I knew you’d try to stop me," you admitted, your voice wavering. "I thought if I went alone, I could handle it."

"Handle it?" Joel echoed, incredulous. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? What if something had happened to you? What if she had—"

"She didn’t," you interrupted, your voice firmer now. "I’m fine, Joel. I’m here, and nothing happened."

"But it could have," Joel shot back, his voice thick with frustration. "You can’t just go off like that, not when there’s so much at stake."

You could see the fear behind his anger, the desperation in his eyes as he looked at you. He was scared, not just for you but for everything you represented in his life. And that fear was fueling his anger now, making him lash out because he didn’t know how else to deal with it.

"I’m sorry," you said softly, stepping closer to him. "I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… I couldn’t leave things the way they were."

Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension drained out of him. He looked at you, his expression torn between anger and something softer, something more vulnerable.

"I can’t lose you," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t, but you need to stop being an asshole to everyone” you said.

 Joel blinked, taken aback by your bluntness. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it just as quickly, clearly struggling with his emotions. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away.

“I know I’ve been hard on everyone,” he admitted, his voice low. “But it’s just... I’ve been so damn scared of losing you, of losing anyone else. It’s like every time I think about what could happen, I—”

“—you push people away,” you finished for him, your tone gentle but firm. “But, Joel, you can’t protect everyone by building walls around yourself. You have to let people in, let them help you. We’re all in this together, whether you like it or not.”

“And you need to stop being weak” he said, as if he had found the words to get back at you for something.

The words cut deep, and you felt a surge of anger and hurt rise within you. You took a step back, your hands clenching into fists at your sides as you struggled to keep your emotions in check.

“Stop being weak?” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly. “Joel, I’m trying my best to handle everything that’s been thrown at me. I’m not perfect, but I’m not weak.”

"Being weak got your boyfriend killed, right?" Joel’s words echoed in your mind, the pain of them mingling with the pain of your past. It felt like a knife twisting deeper into a wound that had never fully healed.

“Don’t you dare use that against me,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and sadness. “I’ve been trying my hardest to move forward, to deal with everything that’s happened. You can’t just throw my past in my face like that.”

Joel’s face softened, his eyes wide with regret as he saw the effect of his words. He reached out as if to bridge the gap you’d created, but you took another step back, shaking your head.

“No,” you said firmly. “You can’t do that. You can’t keep using my pain to justify your own frustrations. We both have our struggles, and we both have to face them. But that doesn’t mean we get to hurt each other.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, his anger giving way to a weary sadness. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just stop,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. "Are this how things are going to be between us?" You asked, no payback, just a tense voice.

"What do you mean?" he asked, regretting lacing on his voice.

"Every time I do something you don't like you will throw something at me?"

Joel looked away, his gaze shifting to the floor as if searching for the right words. The weight of your question seemed to hit him hard, and he struggled to meet your eyes again.

“No,” he finally said, his voice low. “That’s not what I want. I don’t want to hurt you. I just... I’m dealing with a lot, and sometimes I don’t know how to handle it. But that’s no excuse for pushing you away or being unfair.”

You could see the conflict in his eyes, the internal battle between his pain and his desire to make things right. It was clear he was struggling, and for a moment, you felt a pang of sympathy despite the hurt he’d caused.

“Then we need to figure out a way to communicate better,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “If we keep doing this, hurting each other, it’s never going to work. We need to be able to talk without tearing each other down.”

Joel nodded slowly, his expression softening. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll work on it. I just… I need to do better. For us.”

“Joel, I… I think we need to take a step back,” you began, your voice gentle but firm. “We can’t be together as a couple right now. Not until we’ve both done some healing—on our own.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and you could see the hurt flicker across his face. “What are you saying?” he asked quietly, his grip on your arms loosening.

“I’m saying that we’ve both been through so much, and we’re still carrying all that pain,” you explained. “It’s not fair to either of us to try to make this work when we’re still so broken inside. We’re just going to end up hurting each other more.”

Joel looked down; his jaw clenched tightly. He was silent for a moment, clearly struggling with your words.

Joel’s silence stretched, and you could see the emotions warring within him. Finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of sadness and resignation.

“I get it,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “I do. It’s just… hard to accept. I don’t want to lose you, but I understand if we need to take a step back.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. “I don’t want to lose you either, Joel. That’s why we need to do this. We need to heal separately so we can be better for each other, if we decide to come back together.”

Joel sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll try to do better. For myself, for us. And… I’ll see the therapist. Maybe it’ll help.”

“I think it will,” you said softly, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s a good step. For both of us.”

Joel nodded, his expression softening a bit. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot. But just know… I care about you. A lot.”

“I care about you too,” you replied, your voice wavering slightly. “And that’s why we need to do this. We need to take care of ourselves first.”

With a final, heavy sigh, Joel gave you a small, bittersweet smile. “Alright. I’ll see you around then.”

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, and reached out to gently touch his face. His eyes met yours, filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Before either of you could say more, you leaned in and pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. It was a gentle, tender gesture, a promise that despite the distance you both needed, the feelings between you remained.

Joel’s eyes closed momentarily as he returned the kiss, his grip on your shoulders tightening just enough to convey his emotions. When you finally pulled away, you could see the depth of his feelings in his gaze—a silent acknowledgment that while things were changing, the connection between you was still strong.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “For understanding. For everything.”

You gave him a small, encouraging smile. “We’re both doing our best. That’s all we can ask of each other.”

Joel nodded, his expression softening with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “I’ll see you around,” he repeated, a bit more firmly this time.

With one last, lingering look, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a heavy heart and a sense of resolve. You knew it would be hard, but you were hopeful that with time and effort, both of you could find the healing you needed.

++

When Joel woke up, the world seemed disjointed, fragmented. He was greeted with concerned faces, but the familiarity of their voices felt distant. As the days passed, it became clear that Joel had lost significant portions of his memory. He struggled to piece together the events leading up to the ambush, and his sense of self was clouded by confusion.

The emotional impact was profound. Joel had always been someone who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now he found himself grappling with an added burden: the loss of his own past. He could remember fragments—snippets of conversations, fleeting images—but the continuity of his life felt like a puzzle with missing pieces.

In the midst of this struggle, Joel faced the raw, unfiltered emotions that had been buried under layers of anger and pain. Without the anchor of his memories, he found himself confronted with feelings he had tried to suppress or ignore. The realization of what he had lost, both in terms of his past and his relationship with you, hit him with an intensity that left him vulnerable and exposed.

The days were a whirlwind of emotions for Joel. He felt anger at his own helplessness, frustration at not being able to remember crucial parts of his life, and deep sadness for the connections that seemed to have slipped away from him. His interactions with you were strained. He knew you were important, but the specifics of why were obscured by the fog of his memory.

Joel’s struggle was evident in the way he reached out for fragments of normalcy. He would sit quietly in the corners of the community, trying to piece together his past by observing others. Conversations with you were tinged with an awkward formality, as if he were trying to bridge a gap that couldn’t be fully crossed.

As time went on, Joel began to lean on you more, searching for comfort in your presence. Your patience and support became a lifeline for him, a way to ground himself amidst the confusion. He struggled to reconcile the past he could no longer fully recall with the present he was living through.

You, too, found yourself grappling with the new reality. Seeing Joel in such a fragile state was heartbreaking. You wanted to help him, to be there for him, but the dynamics of your relationship had shifted. The boundaries you had set were still in place, but the lines between them were now blurred by Joel’s struggle and your own feelings of helplessness.

Despite the pain and frustration, there were moments of clarity and connection. The more Joel leaned on you, the more he began to remember the warmth of your presence, the comfort of your touch. Though the memories of your shared past were fragmented, the emotional bond between you was something that transcended the gaps in his recollection.

++

Joel’s journey through therapy was arduous. Each session was a test of patience and introspection, peeling back layers of his past and the wounds he had kept buried. The process was slow, and the progress often seemed incremental. He confronted painful memories and learned to navigate his emotions, guided by the therapist’s steady support.

Despite the difficulties, Joel showed up for each session, driven by a desire to heal and a growing understanding of the importance of addressing his issues. He learned to articulate his feelings and confront his fears. The therapy sessions began to shift something within him—a deeper recognition of his own vulnerabilities and a burgeoning sense of hope.

In the midst of this, Joel's thoughts frequently returned to Lori and you. He knew that if there was any chance of reconciliation or understanding, it had to start with bringing Lori back into the fold. His own healing process had taught him the value of second chances and the importance of confronting unresolved issues.

One crisp morning, after several weeks of therapy, Joel set out to find Lori. He had been keeping tabs on her location, and while he understood the risks, he was determined to make things right. When he finally located her, she was in a makeshift camp on the outskirts of a small, struggling community.

“Lori,” Joel said, his voice carrying concern as he approached her. “We need to talk.”

Lori looked up; her expression wary but curious. “Joel,” she said, her voice tinged with both surprise and apprehension. “What are you doing here?”

Joel took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I’ve been working on myself. Trying to make things right. And I think... I think it’s time for us to address what happened between us.”

Lori’s eyes softened slightly, though she remained guarded. “And what does that mean?”

“It means,” Joel said, taking a step closer, “that I want to try and bring you back to Jackson. There’s a chance for reconciliation, but it starts with making amends.”

Lori studied him for a long moment, the hesitation clear in her eyes. “Why would I go back there? They’ve already decided I’m not welcome.”

Joel nodded, understanding her reluctance. “They might have voted you out, but people change. And I think there’s a chance for you to make things right. I can vouch for you. I’ve been through a lot of my own healing, and I believe in second chances.” He paused “And I believe on her” he said, referring to you.

Lori’s gaze softened further, the walls she had built around herself starting to crumble. “And what if they don’t want me back? What if they still see me as a threat?”

“We won’t know until we try,” Joel said firmly. “I believe in giving people a chance, and I’m willing to stand up for you.”

After a long pause, Lori finally nodded. “Alright. If you’re willing to vouch for me, I’ll give it a try.”

Joel offered a small, hopeful smile. “Okay. Let’s head back to Jackson.”

The journey back was quiet but filled with a tentative sense of hope. When they arrived, the tension was palpable. The community was wary, and the reception was far from warm. However, Joel’s presence and the commitment he showed in standing by Lori’s side made a difference.

Lori had to prove herself, and the community had to come to terms with her return. Not only because she was a threat to you in a moment. But the fact that she was given a chance was a testament to the power of redemption and the possibility of new beginnings.

Joel’s own healing continued as well, bolstered by his actions and the steps he took to make amends. His relationship with you remained on a path of gradual recovery. While there were still challenges to face, the progress made was a testament to the strength of the bonds that held the community together and the resilience of the individuals within it.

In the end, Joel’s journey was a reflection of the broader struggles and triumphs of a world striving to rebuild itself, one step at a time.

while you were in the infirmary tending to a few minor injuries and organizing supplies, Joel walked in with Lori at his side. The atmosphere was quiet, the usual hum of activity in the infirmary providing a backdrop to the scene.

You looked up from your work, your hands wiping off the last traces of blood from a bandage, and saw Joel approaching. A lump formed in your throat as you took in the sight of Lori walking behind him, her posture guarded but resolute.

“Hey,” Joel said, his voice carrying a note of cautious optimism. “I brought Lori here for you to check on her. She’s been having some issues with her leg.”

You nodded, trying to mask your apprehension. “You’re back” you said, feeling a lump forming on your throat.

Lori nodded as she moved towards the examination table with a hesitant but determined stride. She glanced at you, her expression a mixture of anxiety and hope.

you greeted her softly, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “How’s it been? What happened to your leg?”

Lori took a deep breath, her voice steady despite the uncertainty. “It’s been a rough few days. Just a scrape that’s gotten worse.”

As you began to examine her leg, you noticed Joel standing nearby. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you, anxiety mingled with a sense of unease as you tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Looks like it’s inflamed,” you said, carefully cleaning the wound. “I’ll need to get some antibiotics on it and make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”

“Thank you,” Lori said quietly, her eyes meeting yours. “I know it’s been complicated between us.”

You offered her a small, strained smile. “It’s okay. We all have our struggles. I’m just glad to see you making an effort.”

Joel watched the interaction closely, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. He understood the complexities of the situation and was grateful for the chance to make things right.

As you finished treating Lori’s leg, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of discomfort. The process of healing was never straightforward, and the emotional weight of the past few weeks lingered in the air.

“Thanks,” Lori said, standing up with a tentative smile. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you replied, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

Joel gave you a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

You watched as Joel and Lori left the infirmary, a mix of emotions swirling within you. The path to reconciliation and healing was long and often challenging, but moments like these—where you faced the past and worked towards a better future—were steps in the right direction.

You hoped that in time, things would settle into a new normal. For now, you focused on the present, knowing that the journey of healing for everyone involved was far from over.

As you were lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear the steps approaching.

Joel walked back into the infirmary a few minutes after leaving with Lori. His demeanor was different now, less tentative and more determined. He approached with a sense of urgency, his expression revealing his frustration and a touch of exasperation.

You looked up from the stack of bandages you had been organizing, noticing the intensity in his gaze. The uncertainty and lingering doubts you had been grappling with seemed to settle around you, making your heart race a little faster.

“Hey,” Joel said, his voice cutting through the quiet of the infirmary.

“Hey” you said, avoiding his gaze. “I see Lori is back” you added, not wanting to sound bitter because you weren’t. You could see everyone was trying to make better version of themselves.

Her, Joel and you.

There were broken versions hoping to be fixed.

Joel’s eyes followed your gaze to the door, still looking a bit out of place in the infirmary. He took a deep breath before speaking, clearly trying to manage his frustration.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone carrying a tint of relief and irritation. “She’s back. I know it’s been a lot to take in, and I get that you’re unsure- “

“I’m not.” You said, voice trembling even when you felt sure about your feelings towards Joel.

Joel's expression softened as he heard the tremble in your voice. He stepped closer, his frustration giving way to concern and understanding. “Then what is it?” he asked gently, searching your eyes for the answer. “You seem sad today.”

Joel’s frustration was evident as he took a deep breath, trying to keep his tone even. “I’m tired of this,” he began, his voice steady but laced with underlying frustration. “I’m tired of you doubting what we have, of you questioning whether or not it’s worth it. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one trying to make things work.”

Your gaze fell to the floor, feeling the weight of his words. You had been struggling with your own fears and uncertainties, and it was clear that Joel’s patience was wearing thin.

“Joel, it’s not that I don’t care,” you said quietly. “It’s just—”

“Just what?” Joel interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “Just that you’re scared? I get it, I really do. But we can’t keep going in circles like this. I’m here, and I’m trying. But if you’re not on the same page, if you’re not willing to fight for us, then what are we even doing?”

His words hit hard, but they also struck a chord of truth. You had been hesitant, afraid of getting hurt again, and it was affecting your ability to fully commit to the relationship. Joel’s frustration was palpable, and you knew that this conversation was long overdue.

“What else I have to do to prove that you’re it for me?” he asked.

Joel’s question hung in the air, heavy with emotion. You could see the intensity in his eyes, the way his frustration was mixed with desperation. He had been fighting for you, for the relationship, and now he was asking for something in return—your commitment, your belief in what you two could be together.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I know you’ve been trying, Joel,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “And I see that. I see how much you care, how much you’re willing to do for us. But… it’s not just about proving something to me. It’s about proving it to yourself too.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, his gaze never leaving yours. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we both have our scars,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “And I’m scared, yes. But I think you’re scared too. Scared of getting hurt again, of losing someone else. And that’s why we keep going in circles, why it’s so hard to fully trust in this.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. You could see that he was listening, really listening, to what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and intense. Walking towards you, he cupped your face in his hands “I could hit my head a hundred times,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of his emotions, “and I would come back to you each time.”

You looked up at him, a mix of surprise and emotion swirling in your eyes. His words cut through the uncertainty you’d been feeling, touching on something deeper and more enduring than just the day-to-day struggles.

“Why?” you asked softly, searching his face for the meaning behind his declaration. “Why would you keep coming back?”

Joel’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your arm. “Because you matter to me more than anything,” he said, his voice earnest. “I know we’ve got a lot to work through, and it’s not going to be easy. But every time I think of us, it’s like everything else falls away. It’s always you.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. “And you?”

Joel nodded, a small, sincere smile on his lips. “And me. Even when things get tough, or when I mess up, it’s you I want to be with. It’s you I want to make things right with.”

The sincerity in his words struck a chord within you. You could see how deeply he cared, despite the flaws and the struggles that had come between you. It was a reminder that, despite the difficulties, there was something real and lasting between you.

“I’m willing to try,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but full of conviction.

Joel’s smile widened, a look of relief and affection shining in his eyes. “Deal,” he said softly, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

"How is therapy going?" you asked.

Joel shifted slightly in your embrace before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His expression was a mix of vulnerability and hope. “It’s… it’s going. Not easy, but I’m trying to face things I’ve been avoiding for a long time.”

You nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. “That’s good to hear. It’s important to confront those things.”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, it’s more than just talking about it. It’s about figuring out how to move forward. I’m learning that it’s not just about fixing what’s broken, but understanding why it was broken in the first place.”

“Sounds like you’re making progress,” you said gently.

Joel’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “It is. And having support—like you—makes it a bit easier. I appreciate you being here, even when things get complicated.”

You gave him a warm smile.

Joel's gaze lingered on yours, a mix of determination and affection in his eyes. Without a word, he gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. The warmth of his touch conveyed everything he couldn’t put into words.

He leaned in, his lips finding yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was soft and deliberate, a silent promise of his commitment and his feelings for you. The kiss was more than just an expression of love; it was an affirmation of the bond you both shared, a way of showing that despite the challenges, there was still something deeply real and enduring between you.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. “I just needed you to know that,” he said quietly. “You’re important to me, and I’m not giving up on us.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over you.

“Let me love you” he whispered on your lips.

When Joel whispered those words, so close that his breath mingled with yours, it sent a shiver down your spine. His vulnerability, laid bare in that simple plea, tugged at something deep inside you. For so long, you had both danced around your fears and uncertainties, but here he was, asking for a chance to break through all of that.

Your heart swelled with a mixture of emotions—relief, love, and a lingering hint of that old fear. But as you looked into Joel’s eyes, filled with a hope that you hadn’t seen in him before, you felt something inside your shift.

You leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and let your lips meet his in a gentle, lingering kiss.

rushed and desperate, as a silent promise between the two of you.

But then, you pulled back just slightly, enough to catch your breath and regain some sense of where you were. “We are in the infirmary, Joel,” you whispered against his lips, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your words were a gentle reminder of the boundaries you still needed to respect, even in the midst of everything you were feeling.

Joel let out a small, breathless laugh, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to gather himself. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured, his voice laced with both amusement and a lingering desire. “But I needed some kisses from my favorite lady.

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Well, your favorite lady is very flattered,” you replied, your tone teasing as you brushed a hand through his hair. “But I think she might need to get back to work before someone walks in on us.”

Joel sighed dramatically, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you get back to your work,” he said, though he didn’t make a move to step away just yet. Instead, he pressed one last, quick kiss to your lips, as if he couldn’t resist.

“See you later, then,” he murmured, his voice filled with affection and something deeper, something that spoke to the connection you were slowly rebuilding.

“Later,” you echoed, your smile lingering as he finally released you and took a step back, his eyes still warm with unspoken feelings.

As you returned to your work, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joel. The way he had kissed you, the way he had spoken to you—it was clear that he was committed to making things work between you two. And deep down, you knew that you were too. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but you were both willing to walk it together.

Time passed quickly as you immersed yourself in your tasks, trying to push away the thoughts of what had just transpired. But the memory of his touch, his words, lingered with you, making your heart ache in a bittersweet way.

Later, as the day began to wind down and the infirmary grew quieter, you found yourself thinking about what the evening might bring. Would Joel come by to see you again? Would you two have a chance to talk more, to start building something real and solid between you?

Just as you were finishing up for the day, you heard the door to the infirmary creak open. You turned, half-expecting it to be another patient or one of the other medics. But when you saw Joel standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe with a soft smile on his face, your heart skipped a beat.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Thought I’d come by and see if you needed anything.”

You smiled, feeling a familiar flutter in your chest. “Hey yourself,” you replied, wiping your hands on your scrubs. “I was just finishing up.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good timing, then,” he said with a slight grin. “Mind if I walk you home?”

Your smile widened, and the idea of spending more time with him made your heart swell with affection. “I’d like that,” you said softly.

As you and Joel walked through the quiet streets of Jackson, the cool evening air wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The sounds of the community winding down for the night were all around—distant chatter, the occasional clatter of dishes being put away, the soft hum of generators. It was a rare moment of peace in a world that had seen so much chaos.

Joel walked close beside you, his presence grounding and reassuring. Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence with words; the simple act of being together was enough. Yet, the unspoken connection between you was palpable, a gentle reminder of the kiss you had shared earlier and the emotions that had been laid bare.

As you approached your house, your home came into view. The warm glow of the lantern inside spilled out through the window, casting a welcoming light on the porch. You hesitated for a moment, not quite ready for the evening to end, and it seemed Joel felt the same.

He stopped a few steps away from the door, turning to face you fully. His expression was softer now, the earlier intensity replaced by a quiet tenderness that made your heart ache in the best possible way.

“I know things have been… complicated,” Joel began, his voice low and earnest. “But I meant what I said earlier. I’m not giving up on us. We’ve both been through hell, but I want to make this work. I want us to work.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words hitting you with a depth of sincerity that left you momentarily speechless. But you knew he was right—this was something worth fighting for, and you were ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

“I want that too, Joel,” you finally said, your voice soft but steady. “We’ve been through so much already. We can get through this too. Together.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he reached out to gently take your hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you as your fingers intertwined.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, holding hands in the soft glow of the lantern light, the world around you fading into the background. It was just the two of you, standing at the edge of something new and uncertain, but also something beautiful.

Finally, Joel broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I… come in?”

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you considered the question.

With a small, hopeful smile, you nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Together, you walked up the steps and into the house, the door closing softly behind you. Inside, the room was warm and inviting, a small oasis in a world that had taken so much from both of you. As you stood there, taking in the familiarity of your surroundings, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

Joel didn’t say anything as he gently pulled you into a kiss. Joel’s arms wrapped around you with a gentle yet firm grip, pulling you closer as his lips met yours. The kiss was tender, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had been building between you—the longing, the pain, the hope. It was a moment of pure connection, where words weren’t necessary because everything you needed to say was conveyed in the way he held you, in the way his lips moved against yours.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the weight of the world outside fading away, leaving only the two of you in this quiet, stolen moment. Joel’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, anchoring you to him. The way he kissed you was both gentle and possessive, as if he were afraid to let go, as if he needed this as much as you did.

“Need to…” He whispered against your lips, sounding almost desperate, running his hands down your waist to your ass.

Your breath became heave, feeling his hands roaming all your body as if you were the most precious treasure for him. Joel started leaving small kisses on your neck, as his hand travelled down the curve of one of your hips, gripping your skin all over the material of your clothes. He whispered your name against your skin, leaving goosebumps traced on it.

Your arched your back, moaning his name, making Joel go crazy. He grabbed you by your hips, effortlessly lifting you up to sit on the edge of your table, with him standing between your spread legs. Kissing Joel for real felt like driving in a dead-end street, like crushing your bones against the waves of the sea just to be brought back to life. And he also felt like the sun at the end of summer burning deep down your legs being carried out by passion and desire.

A gasp escaped from your throat, Joel’s mouth moving over yours in slow motion, savoring the taste of your lips to never forget it again. Your kisses felt like eating the sweetest fruit in summer.

as your legs spread, giving him closer access to you. As the kiss deepened, the feeling wasn’t just magical, but it was hot, with his tongue against yours. There wasn’t a proper way to get closer, but you wanted him closer, you wanted to feel him on top of you.

Joel slowly detached his lips from yours, looking flustered at the intensity of the kiss you had just shared.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You quickly nodded, as you traced your hands on his hair down to his neck and rapidly connected your lips with him. This time it was even hotter, now there was desperation in the touch.

The air in the room grew heavier, filled with the sound of small whines slipping from your lips as he travelled his way down your neck with his lips, you felt like his own canvas being delicately traced by his lips brushing over your skin, planting tattooed kisses on his way.

He was capturing every second of this in his mind, the taste of your mouth, the softness of your skin, and the sound falling out from your lips, as he didn't stop taking every visible inch of your skin in his mouth. Every touch sent shivers straight down where you wanted him the most.

A slow moan escaped from your lips as he hit the hot skin of your neck.

"Everything's f-" You shut him down by furiously attaching his lips back to yours. His hand left the back of your neck, traveling down your chest as he remembered how every inch of your body felt under his touch and he smiled against your lips. The ache between your tights intensified at that, all while his hand pushed under your skirt and brushed where you wanted to be touched the most.

"Oh" you breathed.

Joel stopped kissing you for a moment to look at you, and he had a small smirk on his lips because he knew what he was doing. Leading not only by the desire but because of the mixed feelings he had for you.

And at that moment, breathing heavily against each other's faces, he kissed you again, and this time he went for it. He grabbed your bottom lip between his teeth as his hand rose higher on your tight.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you closer in a quick motion, your hand on your back holding your tight. You fell against his chest, falling apart under his gaze and touch. His lips pressed against you with a crazy need.

Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears when he kept caressing every inch of you, making you spin. His palm smoothed over the curve of your waist down to your bum and gripped it tightly, moving you even closer to him.

You let out a whine at that, and one your legs was pulling him on hold, kissing down his neck. You could feel him clenching under you.

He let out a groan, while you moved your hand along his chest down to his jeans, his own hand leaving your body to grasp your hold against him. He groaned low against you.

He stopped kissing you to meet your eyes briefly.

“I want you,” he said, capturing your lips as his teeth grabbed your bottom lip and his hand cupped the side of your face.

“You can have me” you whispered, resting your forehead on his.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips as he unbuttoned your blouse, your hands working on his jeans, and planted kisses on his mouth. Kissing him deeply as one of your hands rested between you two, as you wrapped your hand around him.

His hands on your hips to hold you right there. The air in your lungs was trapped in a bubble of incredible pleasure, but it still found a way to escape in rushed moans against his mouth as you both kept devouring each other.

He groaned against your mouth, lips parting, unable to utter other things instead of whimpers that drove you absolutely crazy.

Your whimper got stuck on your throat when you felt his finger pushing through your hot entrance. You were already soaked and Joel lost his mind at the feeling of you squeezing around his finger. He attached his lips once again, drinking your moans as he started pumping his fingers, slowly then building up the pace. Your lips attached to his neck, leaving traces of your kissed on his skin, claiming him, possessive and graceful.

"Fuck….Bedroom," you whispered softly, not breaking the kiss.

Once you stepped in your room, you were lying on your back with him on top, taking your lips back to his again.

You placed your arms around his neck and opened your legs so he could go closer to you, moaning at the sensation of him against where you wanted him most.

You kept your lips attached as he ground his hips against yours, sending electricity running through your body. He groaned into the skin of your neck, yanking his jeans and underwear off. Your gentle grasp on him caused him to whimper.

He drew you closer to him by your hips as you continued to devour one other, you couldn't stop the joy and the dazzling fireworks traveling up to your lower stomach were stronger than your thoughts. You were utterly out of breath, and you wanted him so bad it ached that you felt your lungs would catch fire.

You couldn't really comprehend what he was saying on the skin of your chest because your mind was consumed by the overwhelming desire to have him as you needed right now.

He paused kissing you and spreading kisses on your chest for a moment to gaze at your parted lips and your chest rising and falling as a result of him, and he couldn't lie, he felt proud of his lasting control over you.

"Are you going to f-"

You couldn't finish before he snatched your lips back, dragging you around his waist and grinding himself against you, making you moan against his lips. With such want, you could feel the aching growing up between your tights.

"Don’t be a brat” he huskily whispered in your ear, making your knees weak.

Before you could fire your retort, his fingers teasingly caressed your core. He seemed to be having a good time and enjoying every second of you squirming under him. Your head fell back to the bed, a gentle but irritated murmur from your lips. When he saw your reaction, he smiled, and you felt the delicate touch of his fingers stroking across your core.

"Oh," you whimpered, out of breath.

His soft lips caressed every single area of your skin on your chest, just over your red bra, with an agonizing slowness that made you insane and roll your eyes of pure pleasure. The one he unhooked with one hand so swiftly you gasped, a sound drowned out by the sensation of his lips over your nipples while he continued to pound on you at your core.

He greets you with a laugh, his cheeks exposing his dimples, and his eyes shining at the sight of you.

"Joel, please…" you grumbled.

He sucked on a nipple, causing your back to arch as he gripped your hips to the bed before meeting your eyes, absorbing every inch of your face lost in the joy of the moment, stroking your checks with his thumb.

You gripped the gem of his t-shirt to remove it, leaving no barrier between the two of you.

He moved between your tights, spreading them apart once more, and welcomed himself into you. You hadn't had him since that night when you confessed to him, and he felt even bigger than you remembered, and you both gasped when he began thrusting inside. He pushed his forehead against your neck, kissing you softly over the skin.

"You're beautiful like this," he said into your ear, "God I could just-"

He could complete it since he focused solely on making you pleased picking up his pace and thrusting quicker. He was completely inside you, feeling like he was breaking down your defenses as he pushed it on and on. You were out of breath, and all the air in your lungs didn't feel quite enough. You bucked your hips, allowing him to move even more quickly. And that's exactly what he did, giving you everything you asked for.

As your nails left red lines on his naked back and he thrust his hips harder into you, you could feel the heat spreading all over your body, like diesel meeting fire, causing an imminent explosion.

You struggled to breathe, but it didn't matter since the surge of ectasis he gave you was enough to make you feel alive. His finger traced the patterns over you, leaving hot flames all over your skin, and you clutched him, trying to appreciate this closeness before it was ripped away.

And he continued to rock into you. The sounds you both produced were completely hot, forcing your blood to rush into your checks as you continued to toss your head back to give him permission to mark the skin of your neck.

"Fuck me…" you said in ecstasy,

"I’m doing it" he retorted.

You grasped for his hair to hold him tight against your lips, kissing the warm skin under his ear as if you wanted him to hear you, panting for air, feeling your climax come so close that you trembled against his body. Not long after, your world spun around you, and you tightened your grip on his waist, feeling the release as you cursed in his ear, forcing him to release after you. His push grew sloppy, sending small sparks up your tights, till he came to a halt and you saw a delicious sight.

He kissed your temple for a few seconds longer, enjoying the sweat drips on your skin. Finally, you looked into his eyes. His brow eyes' delicate brightness sent thrills down your spine, leaving you with a lump in your throat.

 Joel chuckled as he caressed your warm face, his touch on your skin radiating affection. All of the tension and resentment that led you to have sex before disappeared into the void.

"You can stay with me," you whispered as leaned in, his lips brushing against your brow. “You're exactly where you should be."

The next day, you and Joel were assigned to patrol together, as usual. The morning air was crisp, the kind that stung your cheeks but made you feel alive. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a golden hue over the frost-covered ground. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence, the familiarity of the routine settling between you.

As you reached the outskirts of Jackson, Joel suddenly veered off the usual path. You followed him, curiosity piqued, until you realized where he was leading you. Your steps faltered slightly when you saw the familiar spot—where you had buried your boyfriend, the place where you had said your final goodbye.

Joel paused a few steps ahead, turning to look at you. His expression was serious, yet there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I know this is hard,” he said quietly, “but there’s something I need to do. Something I need to say.”

You nodded, unable to speak as the weight of the moment settled over you. Joel took a deep breath and stepped closer to the simple marker that marked your boyfriend’s resting place. He knelt down, his hand resting on the earth as if he were speaking directly to the man buried beneath it.

“I know you were everything to her,” Joel began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “And I know I’m not trying to replace you. But I care about her. I want to be there for her, protect her, and make her happy. I just… I need your permission to do that.”

The sincerity in Joel’s voice made your chest tighten, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You had never imagined a moment like this—Joel, who was usually so guarded, so tough, asking for the blessing of a man he’d never met, all for you.

“I know I wasn’t very gentle to her at the beginning but now she is everything for me, and I promise you that I will live every day of my life for her.”

“I know I wasn’t very gentle to her at the beginning,” Joel continued, his voice thick with regret. “But she’s everything to me now. And I promise you that I will live every day of my life for her. I’ll protect her, cherish her, and give her the kind of love she deserves. I swear it.”

You watched as Joel’s hand lingered on the ground, his thumb tracing small circles over the earth as if sealing his vow. The sight of him, this strong, stoic man who had been through so much, baring his soul in front of your boyfriend’s grave, made your tears fall freely.

Joel stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he was giving the moment the gravity it deserved. When he turned to face you, there was a determination in his eyes, but also a softness—a quiet understanding that this wasn’t just about him, but about the both of you moving forward together.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “I hope that’s enough,” he said quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “I hope I’m enough.”

You took his hand, pressing it against your cheek, feeling the warmth of his touch soothe the ache in your chest. “You are, Joel,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You are more than enough.”

With those words, something shifted between you—something deeper, more profound than before. It was as if, in that moment, you were finally laying to rest the ghosts of your past, giving yourself permission to embrace the future you wanted with Joel.

Joel leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and then to your lips. The kiss was tender, filled with a promise that went beyond words. It was a kiss that spoke of new beginnings, of hope, and of a love that was both fragile and unbreakable.

“I lost my mind for you,” he repeated, his gaze intense and unwavering. “And I would always go back to that just to love you.”

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “And I would choose you every time,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “Through everything.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he pulled you into another embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke volumes. You stood there, holding each other, finding solace in the shared silence and the comfort of each other’s presence.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape, you both knew that while the world outside was still harsh and unforgiving, within the space you created together, there was a sanctuary, a place where love, even in its most fragile form, could flourish and grow.

I tagged everyone interested in more parts or or the ones who commented, but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed (again) if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me. I tried to add everyone but I don't know If I did.

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

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon @pascalions

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

@missladym1981 @persephone-girl @darka-moon @beltzboys2015-blog @sptbear @joelsteinfeld @astralqueenoc @bishtrouille

@locaparapedrito @wolfbook87 @picketniffler @axelspin @pedrotease @mclibs23 @feliciab1990 @swornkisses @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kirsteng42 @lostfleurs @guelyury @devonispunk @harriedandharassed @wolfbook87 @niffala @animechik555 @gypsystarchaser42 @geralallfandoms @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @goodvibesonly421 @negansbestie @bambisweethearts @jessthebaker @tuquoquebrute @somedayheaven @ashleyfilm

[drabblesandimagines]

Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

--

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

--

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

--

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

--

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

--

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

--

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

--

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.” 

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

[xazse]

archon scara x devoted follower smut PLEASEEE I BEGGGGGGG PLEASE ☹️☹️☹️

KNEES

Synopsis: The Archon has allowed you to fulfill his desires.

Notes: HI!! I hope you enjoyed this, I see you left another request! I’ll get to it as soon as possible my love. Also I don’t know why I get carried away and make the writing longer than it should be? I hope you guys like when I do that. <333

Pairings: Archon!Scaramouche x devoted!femreader

Warnings: mean!Scaramouche + God!Scaramouche + a god complex to go along with it + mutual masturbation + snarky!reader + creampie + happy ending!!

Scaramouche was above the people who stood below him, bowing and offering him the last cent in their pockets, how easy it was to get humans to worship the ground he treads on. They’ll do anything to get his approval, some will kill for him, burn for him and even harm themselves if he had said to do it. He sat on his chair like he does everyday while his people brought him things he knows he’ll have his servants throw away or he’d let them keep the shit for themselves.

It’s a long line today, people must have been feeling extra grateful or they’re trying to cover sins they’ve been making. It’s a tired mantra of saying thank you’s and goodbyes as he watches them leaves all he can think is good riddance.

He isn’t paying attention to the next person stepping up because of his servant telling him something, the servant stops and stares in front of him, Scaramouche follows his line of sight and they settle upon you. In fact you’ve caught a few eyes with the attire you’ve decided to wear today, the outfits puts your breasts on full display, they look soft and inviting, all Scara can think is: Whore.

You put on your best smile and make your way towards his seat, holding your skirt up as you bow and offer him the sweet treats you’ve made. There’s a look in your eye that he likes, it’s badly full of lust as you brazeningly eye his body up and down, even taking the initiative to lick your lips so seductively. You’re bold, he’s never had a bold lady such as yourself outwardly showing off, you’re just trying to get him to fuck you.

You place the treats down and turn around to let the next follower go, Scaramouche makes sure to get a good look at your ass when you stand over to the side to watch the others finish giving their gifts. You don’t stop eyeing him for the rest of the evening.

When enough people have come past he announces that he’s tired and wishes to retire to bed, they leave one by one but you stand, keeping eye contact with him as everyone leaves. It’s just you left and his servant is about to dismiss you but Scaramouche is intervening and letting you stay. He also tells all his servants to leave.

Now it’s just you and him left.

“Such a little bold thing you are, letting everyone in the room know of your plans just by your body language alone.” He laughs as he allows you to approach.

“What ever do you mean m’lord” you shyly place your hands behind your back.

“Don’t get shy all of sudden, it bores me.” He ushers you closer allowing him to get a close up of you, of your body especially. “I’ve been swamped with protecting you lot, I think I’m owed something. Don’t you agree?” His smirk drives you crazy, you obediently nod.

You with no hesitation slip your arms out of your shirt and pull the front of your shirt down letting your breasts for his eyes to feast on.

You make sure to ooze confidence and he supposes he likes that, most women who offer themselves up are boring prudes who want a quick buck, but you, you look as though you only came to be fucked and thrown to the side, or maybe you’re planning on doing that to him instead.

“Lose it all, we’ll have no need for it anyway.” You quickly discard the dress to the side. “No panties? I wasn’t wrong about my assumption about you being a whore.”

You offer no answer, your lips don’t move but your hands start to roam your body, from the top of your chest to now rubbing your nipples.

“I see no need for foreplay woman, I want you now, you must’ve been wet from the moment you seen me no?” Cocky bastard.

“Unfortunately I was not sir.”

He raises his brow were you not eyeing him down like an animal in heat, he’ll let that comment slide. You continue to touch your breasts before making your way down to your cunt, softly rubbing inbetween your folds. Scaramouche can’t deny himself anymore and unbuttons his pants letting his cock free. Scaramouche is a short man but his cock tells a different story of not judging a book by its cover, his cock is of a great size, width and length. He begins rubbing himself in tandem with you, he can see how your fingers are already glistening with your cum.

He grabs your arm and tugs you forward, you fall flat on his lap. He fixes your body so you’re facing him. You kiss his neck from his ear to his shoulder blade, leaving colorful hickeys. He groans out loud, still stroking his cock but just the right amount, he wants to be inside of you when he cums. You kiss your way to his lips and lightly drag your tongue across them. The distraction allows for you to grab his cock and line it up with your hole, it slides in with a little bit of difficulty but nonetheless you take all of him.

You moan, his cock sits resting against your gummy walls, waiting for him to add stimulation. He grabs you by your waist and begins bouncing you, making sure to pull you all the way off then stuff you full.

“Oh… mhn…” you open your eyes to find Scaramouche staring at you, his eyes bore and burn into yours. His cock starts beating against your sweet spot and you jump, feels so fucking good the way it directly hits against it, it’s hard to control the way your thighs quiver and shake.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” “I’ve been told by women from all around that my cock is something to behold, wouldn’t you agree?” He snarls in-between baited breathes, he could hardly get the sentence out with your pussy clenching down on him.

“The same applies to me, no?” You mock him. He slams you down hard enough for you breath to get caught in your throat, enough for a lewd moan to slip from your lips. He grabs ahold of your boob and guides it to his mouth, sucking on it, licking your nipple, that doesn’t last long enough, he pops off the nipple to rub at your clit.

He flicks it and even pinches it, getting an annoyed reaction out of you. You hold on to the side of his chair like throne and begin bouncing on his cock all by yourself. The combined pleasure has your stomach clenching.

“Fuck- m’so close.” You’re like a rabid animal chasing after your high, your vision seems spotty. His shaft keeps throbbing inside of you every-time you take a moment to rest. You lift up one more time before coming down. Your body convulses and you’re gasping for air, his fat cock has you cumming and whining. You’ve soaked his abdomen In your juices. You’re slumped ontop of him attempting to put yourself back together.

He gives you a moment of clarity, he moves fast when he starts fucking you again, your pussy being filled with him once more. The gross mixture of your cum creates nasty noises which bounces off the walls when your hips meet his. You let him use you to the fullest extent, mumbling in his ear on how full you feel and how good his cock feels. Though he already knows that but he likes his ego to be stroked.

His hands find their way to your ass, gripping the flesh hard in between his fingers as he uses it as a leverage point to slam you down more firmly, oh he was definitely cumming inside you.

You start kissing him with pure tongue, sucking on it and dragging it into your own mouth, he once again lets you. He uses his own tongue to lick the drool that’s starting to seep out of your mouth: it’s so damn dirty and lewd.

“Oh god- m’cumming inside you.” He slurs out in between the messy kisses. He stands up while still holding you, he keeps bucking his hips up into you. He stills and buries his cock deep inside of you, his balls tighten in a way it almost fucking hurts, moaning with no shame he finally cums, you can feel his sticky cum filling you, it feels so gross but in the same sentence you want to experience it all over again. He falls back into his chair with you still settled in his lap.

“Mm….” He pants out enjoying the best orgasm he’s had in a while, you make a move to leave his lap but he keeps you against his chest, “don’t even think about it, I’ll be keeping you close to me.” You obediently nod.

[seospicybin]

INCISION.

I.N x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: In a bustling hospital, you and Jeongin are two doctors trying to navigate the fine line between professionalism and desire. (11,2k words)

Author's note: I'm obviously not a doctor but I've done my research so apologies in advance if you find any inaccuracies. Nevertheless, pls enjoy my first medical au!

The sound of surgical instruments clinking fills the operating room as the soft hum of machines keeps a steady rhythm in the background. You focus on the task at hand, making precise movements as you and Jeongin work side by side.

The tension is palpable, though, even beneath the masks you both wear. The nurses and assistants know this is nothing new.

"You're not positioning the clamp right," Jeongin says, his tone clipped but quiet enough to stay professional.

You shoot him a sharp glance from behind your mask, but hold back from snapping. "I know what I’m doing," you mutter under your breath, trying to stay calm as the situation intensifies.

He glances at the monitor, his eyes flicking between the patient’s stats and your work. "The tissue is too delicate for that much pressure. You’ll cause excessive bleeding if you keep going like this."

You feel the heat rising, frustration bubbling up. "I've done this procedure before, and I know the limits. This is—"

"Stop," Jeongin interrupts, his voice firm but composed, "We’re not here to debate. Just adjust the clamp."

There’s a pause in the room. You don’t miss the way the others subtly glance at each other, wondering if they’ll witness another argument. Reluctantly, you adjust the clamp the way he suggested. Moments pass, and the bleeding stops.

Damn it. He’s right.

Jeongin doesn’t say anything further, just resumes the surgery without acknowledging the tension in the air. Your irritation simmers quietly as you continue, but it doesn’t escape you that he’s proved you wrong in front of the entire team.

It's excepted of you to storm off once the operation is finished, he scoff under his breath as you leave him behind to deal with the post-op responsibilities. He rolls his eyes, tugging off his mask and gloves as he makes his way to the waiting area.

As soon as he steps out, he’s met with anxious eyes—the patient’s family, clinging to each other for support, waiting for any news.

He clears his throat, slipping effortlessly into his professional persona. "The surgery went well," he announces, offering them a reassuring smile.

There’s an immediate sigh of relief from the family. The wife’s eyes well up with tears, her hands shaking as she clutches her husband’s.

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much," she whispers, voice cracking with emotion.

"The team will keep monitoring him closely, but everything went as expected," he replies with practiced humility. "Don't worry. Your loved one is in good hands."

The gratitude they shower him with is met with his usual calm professionalism, nodding politely as they thank him profusely. Despite the warmth of the moment, a part of his mind lingers on you, and the irritation bubbles back up.

-

When the surgery is over, and the patient is stable, you storm out of the operating room, ripping off your mask, gloves and surgical gown in one swift motion, crumpling them before tossing them into the bin with a sharp flick of your wrist.

Everyone around you barely spares a glance—it only takes one look to know you and Jeongin are at it again. Good. Let them know. That way, they’ll stay out of your way.

People might think you’re pissed at Jeongin for what happened in the OR, but the truth stings deeper than that—you’re mad because he was right. Again. And you hate that. You hate him, not for what he does, but for always proving you wrong. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been pissed at Jeongin for no real reason since the day you started working together.

You head straight to the locker room, blessedly empty since not many staff are working the night shift. The irritation gnawing at your insides pushes you to undress quickly, stepping into the shower.

The water hits your skin, warm and soothing, the perfect antidote to the storm brewing inside you. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the water stream down your face. It’s a temporary release, but it helps. Slowly, the anger ebbs away, replaced by the calming rhythm of the water.

The creak of the locker room door breaks the silence, but you don’t pay it much mind. People come and go—it’s part of the routine. You brush your wet hair back, tilting your head again, letting the warmth wash over you.

Then the shower curtain pulls open, and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

Jeongin steps in behind you, the heat of his body unmistakable as he presses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist. Without hesitation, he pulls you close, his firm chest pressing into your skin, his breath hot against your neck. You can feel every inch of him, including the unmistakable hardness that pokes against your lower back.

He doesn’t say anything. He never does. Instead, he leans down, licking the droplets of water from your neck before placing soft kisses there, each one more deliberate than the last. You tilt your head to the side, giving him better access, and he takes it, his lips moving to capture yours in a deep, consuming kiss.

His hands trail down your sides, slow and teasing, until they reach your breasts. His fingers curl around them, squeezing lightly, and you glance down to see your nipples harden under his touch.

You bite back a moan, your body betraying you as your hand snakes its way behind you, finding his cock. You wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly at first, and then with more intent as he groans softly against your ear.

Jeongin responds in kind, his hand slipping between your legs, finding your most sensitive spot with ease. His fingertips circle your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through you, and the tension between you builds, the steam from the shower doing nothing to cool it down.

It’s not long before Jeongin can’t take it anymore. He spins you around, pinning you against the cold tiled wall, his body pressing urgently into yours. One of your legs hooks around his waist as he positions himself, his eyes focused as he pushes into you with a low growl. You whimper, feeling the stretch as he fills you completely, his hard length fitting perfectly inside you.

His lips part as he looks down, watching himself enter you before his gaze flicks back to your face. His hands grip the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until your feet are off the floor. The new angle sends him deeper, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrusts into you, setting a steady, unrelenting pace.

Every movement, every grunt, every gasp is a channel for the frustration you’ve been carrying. You’ve been doing this with Jeongin for weeks now—fucking to release whatever tension builds between you during the day. It’s twisted, getting off on the mutual annoyance and frustration, but it works. For both of you.

You don’t want to admit that you’ve already cum once, and you’re not sure if he realizes, but your body is already building towards another. You clutch his shoulders harder as he speeds up, his hips snapping against yours as water cascades down his flushed skin.

He looks damn good, and you hate him for it. His dark hair slicked back, lips swollen and red from your kisses, his ears tinged pink. You hate that you can’t help but kiss him again, because despite everything, he’s good at this. He knows how to unravel you.

The contradicting emotions swirl inside you, and before you know it, you’re coming undone for the second time, your body tightening around him as you moan into his mouth. The intensity of it has you seeing stars, and Jeongin grunts as he continues thrusting into you, chasing his own release.

He pulls out just in time, his hot release spilling over your thigh, marking you in the process. Neither of you speaks, just panting against each other as you come down from the high.

No words are needed—there’s never a conversation about this. No being civil, no apologies. Just this. Just sex. Nothing more.

-

Jeongin stretches his neck, feeling the stiffness from working for eleven hours straight finally ease after his short nap. The break helped reset his brain, and after washing up and throwing on his coat, he heads to the breakroom to make himself a much-needed cup of coffee.

Inside the lounge, a handful of doctors and nurses are scattered around, grabbing a quick bite or drink between shifts. Jeongin grabs a mug, pouring coffee into it when a nurse glances his way.

"So, Dr. Yang, what do you think of our new director?" she asks casually.

Jeongin pauses mid-pour, eyebrows raised. “What new director?”

“The new hospital director," she repeats with a slight smile, pulling up a stool across the table from him. “You didn’t come to the announcement earlier?”

He shakes his head. "I was taking a nap."

"Ah, that explains it," she laughs softly, taking a sip of her own coffee.

Jeongin adds a teaspoon of sugar into his cup, curiosity starting to creep in. “So, who is he?”

"He’s the grandson of the chairman," she answers, setting her cup down.

Jeongin lets out a quiet sigh, stirring his coffee. "As expected."

"And," she leans in slightly, lowering her voice, "he’s one beautiful man."

He snorts, shaking his head and then jokingly says, "Be careful, or HR’s going to call you in for that.”

As much as the thought of a "beautiful" new director amuses him, the fact that he got the position through family connections—nepotism—already has Jeongin losing a bit of respect for him. Still, he pushes the thought aside as he finishes his coffee and heads off to do his patient rounds.

After checking on everyone under his care, Jeongin makes his way to his shared office, eager to update patient records in peace. As he steps inside, he spots you already there, seated at the desk. But what catches his attention isn’t just you—it’s the man sitting across from you, the two of you deep in conversation.

The moment Jeongin walks in, the talking stops, and both of you glance his way.

The man sitting across from you turns in his chair, revealing himself to Jeongin. He looks like he’s around the same age, but he's dressed in a sharply tailored pinstripe suit, hair slicked back like he walked straight out of a magazine.

"May I know who’s this?" the man asks, his voice low and smooth, the kind that commands attention.

"That’s Dr. Yang Jeongin, also a general surgeon," you introduce him politely. "We’re sharing the office."

"Ah..." The man lets out a soft, amused sound, standing up from his seat and extending his hand toward Jeongin. "I’m Felix. Nice to meet you."

Jeongin’s eyes flick over Felix briefly, sizing him up. After a beat, he takes Felix’s hand for a quick shake.

“Jeongin,” he says, offering a terse introduction.

The handshake doesn’t last long, but he catches Felix studying him for a moment longer than necessary. There's an air of appraisal in his gaze, one that makes Jeongin immediately wary.

"He’s the new hospital director," you mention, glancing between them.

Oh. So this is the infamous new director—the chairman’s grandson, the "beautiful man." Jeongin internally rolls his eyes but keeps his expression neutral.

"Nice to meet you, Director," Jeongin says, offering the obligatory respect he assumes Felix expects.

Felix waves his hand dismissively. “Just call me Felix, like your office mate here does.” He gestures toward you with a friendly smile.

Jeongin raises an eyebrow. You, of all people, referring to the new director by his first name? The same you who’s earned the nickname "Ice Princess" because you keep a cold expression, even for patients?

Felix notices the curious look in Jeongin’s eyes and quickly adds, "We went to the same university, but unlike her, I didn’t finish my medical studies."

"But you now you’re directing the hospital I work in," You chime in playfully.

Felix chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter. "Anyway, we’re going for lunch. Care to join us?"

Jeongin glances at you. There’s an ease in your body language that makes it clear you’re comfortable around Felix—more comfortable than Jeongin has ever seen you, especially in his presence. Deciding not to intrude, Jeongin shakes his head.

"I’ve got to update some patient records," he says, keeping his tone light.

Felix nods, flashing him a quick smile. "No problem. Maybe next time."

With that, the two of you gather your things and leave the office together, leaving Jeongin alone. He watches the door close behind you, his mind swirling with thoughts.

So, not only is Felix the hospital director thanks to his family connections, but he’s also an old friend of yours—and he must admit that he's indeed a "beautiful man."

-

Jeongin wouldn’t call it luck that no one in the hospital has caught the two of you yet. It’s more about timing—and the fact that people know better than to hang around when you’re both in the same room. They all think it’s just the constant tension, the arguing. If only they knew what happens when the doors are closed.

However, Jeongin doesn’t take their obliviousness for granted.

When the urge strikes, he doesn’t risk anything at work. He knows exactly where to go. You both live in the same apartment building, which makes things much easier.

Now, after a grueling seventeen-hour shift, he stands outside your door, balancing a bag of food in one hand as he presses the doorbell.

A few moments later, the door swings open. There you are, dressed in a simple nightdress, your hair slightly tousled, as if you’ve just crawled out of bed. The soft fabric clings to your figure, and he knows right away that the food isn’t what this visit is really about.

“Food,” he says, holding up the bag as if it’s some peace offering.

You give him a look that says you’re not fooled. You know exactly why he’s here, and it’s not for a meal.

"Come in," you say, stepping aside to let him enter.

Jeongin strides in with the ease of someone familiar with the space. It’s not his first time here. He knows where everything is, where your bedroom is—everything. You gesture toward the dining table, where an open book and laptop suggest you’ve been studying a procedure for an upcoming surgery.

“You can put it there,” you say, nodding toward the table.

He sets the bag down, but his mind is already elsewhere. His gaze turns back to you, and he finds you standing in the doorway of your bedroom, leaning against the frame with a calm, collected air.

“We better make it quick,” you say, voice steady, “I have to be back at the hospital by four.”

Jeongin glances at his watch. There’s time. More than enough to do a few things. Without another word, he follows you into the bedroom. His eyes track your hands as they reach for the hem of your nightdress, and in one fluid motion, you pull it over your head and let it drop to the floor.

You stand there, nearly bare, save for the low-cut white underwear that clings to your hips. The silky fabric leaves little to the imagination, hugging the curves he knows all too well. He watches the way your body moves as you climb onto the bed, the way your legs cross beneath you as you sit there, waiting.

Your gaze is expectant, eyes smoldering as they meet his. You don’t need to say anything—the look is enough. Jeongin knows what’s required of him.

Without hesitation, he begins to undress. One item after another is discarded until there’s nothing between the two of you. He stands before you, unashamed, fully aware of your eyes roving over his body, taking in every inch.

You don’t hide your interest. Your eyes travel down his chest, lingering for a moment before settling lower. It’s clear in the way you’re watching him that you like what you see, and Jeongin feels the tension building, the air thick with unspoken desire.

This—what you have—is simple. It’s physical. You both know what to expect, and right now, there’s nothing more on either of your minds than satisfying the need you both feel.

Jeongin climbs onto the bed, crawling over you with a swift urgency that sends your head sinking into the pillow. His lips crash into yours in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as the tension between you shifts, blending desire with need. His hands, quick and sure, glide down your body, finding the heat between your legs.

His dainty fingers trace your wetness with a familiar intensity—gentle yet deliberate, coaxing every reaction he knows so well. But when his touch isn’t enough, he moves lower, his mouth replacing his fingers, tongue stroking along your slit before teasing your entrance. The wet warmth of his mouth, the firm pressure of his tongue, sends shivers up your spine.

He slips one arm beneath you, lifting your hips from the bed to give him the angle he needs. His mouth moves deeper, his tongue diving in as he devours you, the sound of your breathless moans fueling his efforts.

It doesn’t take long before you’re falling apart against his mouth, your release coating his tongue, and he revels in the taste of his triumph.

Off the bed, you clash. Your egos, your tempers—always fighting, always biting. But here, now, everything is fair game. No power struggles, just raw, shared pleasure.

Without wasting a second, you shift, getting on all fours, and take him into your mouth, returning the favor. Jeongin groans as you work him with expert ease, not stopping until you taste him—his release filling your mouth as he lets out a low, guttural sound, his body trembling under your touch.

It doesn’t end there.

The final round comes quick, an unspoken understanding between you. You lie on your stomach, and he positions himself over you, sliding into you from behind with relentless thrusts. You cross your legs, creating an extra tightness around him, and it drives him mad.

This is Jeongin’s favorite part. The way your mouth parts with nothing but moans spilling out, no words to bite at him, no comebacks to cut him down—just your breathless sounds of pleasure, your hands fisting the sheets as he takes you deeper, harder.

It’s all because of him, and he watches you, mesmerized by the way you slowly fall apart under him. He likes you like this. Fucked out of your mind, nothing left but the pleasure he gives you.

It’s almost too much, the sight of you, the tight heat surrounding him. It pushes him closer to his edge. His thrusts grow faster, more erratic as he chases his high, and you’re right there with him, your body trembling beneath his as you reach for your own release.

You both come undone at nearly the same time, Jeongin’s head falling into the crook of your neck as he breathes heavily, his lips pressing against your damp skin. He licks a stray droplet of sweat before planting a soft kiss on your neck.

Maybe, after all, hate and desire aren’t so different. Whatever it is that fuels your tension off the bed arouses him just as much on it.

-

Jeongin stirs, sensing the sunlight filtering through the blinds. His eyes flutter open, and for a second, he’s disoriented—until he realizes he’s still at your place. He hadn’t meant to stay the night. Turning his head, he sees your side of the bed empty, a small reminder that you had left early for work, as you’d mentioned last night.

He should be grateful that he doesn’t have to deal with the awkward morning after—small talk, avoiding eye contact—but something nags at him. Maybe it's the quietness of your absence, a hollow feeling he can’t quite place.

Jeongin gets up, slipping on his clothes and heading to the living room to grab his bag. He notices your books and laptop still scattered across the dining table, where you'd been working last night. But the food he brought is gone, an empty container in its place.

Later that day, he enters the shared office at the hospital, finding you lying on the sofa, fast asleep, the fatigue evident in the way your body is curled up under a blanket that drapes down the floor.

He knows you’ve had a long morning with a surgery, maybe even more work after that so as a professional courtesy, he quietly adjusts the blanket over your sleeping form, making sure you’re comfortable before moving silently to his desk.

For a while, he successfully works in peace, checking emails and looking over his schedule without waking you. But the silence shatters when the door suddenly swings open.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Felix says, freezing when he sees you stirring awake. “I didn’t know you were—”

“It’s okay,” you croak, rubbing your eyes and sitting up, still drowsy. “It’s time for me to wake up anyway.”

Felix walks in, flashing a smile at Jeongin when he walks past his desk. He sits on your office chair and quickly offer you one of the drinks with a sheepish smile.

“I brought us food,” he announces, setting a bag down on the table. You take the coffee with a grateful gasp, sipping it as though it's bringing you back to life.

“Feeling better already?” Felix teases, watching as you take another long sip.

You nod with a small smile. “Much better.”

Felix turns to Jeongin, a friendly smile on his face. “Dr. Yang, please join us. I brought enough for the three of us.”

Jeongin glances at you, sensing the tension, knowing how you both are. He can see you’re not exactly eager for his company, and he has work waiting for him.

With a thin, polite smile, he declines. “I’m sorry, but I have to check on my patients.”

“Okay,” Felix says, nodding in understanding.

But just as Jeongin thinks the conversation is over, Felix calls back with a playful grin, “Next time, you don’t get to refuse.”

Jeongin’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but as he walks out, he can’t help but glance back at you, sitting with Felix, looking more comfortable with him than Jeongin’s seen you in a long time.

-

Jeongin's eyes follow you across the room as you chat with Felix, your conversation too friendly for his liking. The two of you have been growing closer with each passing day, and it’s starting to grate on his nerves. He knows what everyone else is thinking—that he's jealous because you're spending time with the new hospital director. But it's deeper than that. He isn’t just annoyed at Felix; it’s you, too. He doesn't like seeing you laughing and being comfortable with someone who isn't him.

Jeongin tries to shake it off, throwing himself into his work, but it's impossible to ignore how often Felix finds a way to be around you. When Felix touches your arm casually during a conversation, something snaps inside Jeongin.

Later that day, the two of you are assigned to the same case, but the tension is palpable. You're standing on opposite sides of the patient’s bed, discussing the best treatment option when the argument starts.

"I think we need to go with a more conservative approach," you insist, your voice sharp, clearly not in the mood to back down.

Jeongin scoffs, shaking his head. "Conservative? This is an emergency. We don’t have time to wait around!"

"And rushing into surgery without considering alternatives could be reckless. Are you even thinking this through?" You argue, insisting that he thinks all these options through.

The nurses and doctors in the room glance at each other, exchanging awkward looks. They’re used to seeing the two of you argue, but today feels different. The tension is thicker, and no one dares intervene.

The argument escalates as you both exit the emergency room, the heated words continuing to fly between you. Neither of you backs down until you're alone in a narrow hallway near the storage closets.

"You never listen to anyone, do you?" you snap, your voice low and laced with frustration.

"And you never stop acting like you’re always right," Jeongin retorts, stepping closer to you, his eyes burning with unspoken frustration—frustration that’s been building not just over the patient but everything between the two of you.

Without thinking, the two of you back into the nearest closet. The door closes behind you, and before you can say another word, Jeongin pulls you to him. The next second, his lips are on yours, the argument forgotten as the two of you collide in a desperate, breathless kiss.

The cramped space of the closet doesn’t stop either of you from tearing into each other. His hands are already under your coat, fingers brushing your skin, while you tug at his scrubs, wanting more.

It's a dangerous game you're playing—this secret, reckless connection between the two of you—but right now, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You don’t need words. You both know how this ends.

-

Jeongin’s hands grip your hips tightly, his thrusts deep and relentless, but there’s something off. The usual fire between you two, the mix of anger and lust that always brings you back to each other, is there, but it feels different—colder, harsher.

You try to steady your breath, but Jeongin’s movements are growing more erratic. It’s almost as if he’s punishing you, though you don’t know why.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back just slightly, just enough to look down at you. His eyes are darker than usual, and there’s something new in them—a flicker of doubt, maybe even insecurity.

“You’ve been... busy lately,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “Not around much. Guess you’re spending time with the director now, huh?”

The question stuns you for a second. His tone is cool, but there’s an edge to it. Jeongin never talks like this, not when you’re in bed—or, well, in a closet like now. Heck! He doesn't even talk at all.

“What?” you manage to say, confused and still trying to catch your breath.

He lets out a small, sharp laugh, but it feels wrong—forced. “Just saying. You’ve been with him a lot lately.”

His thrusts slow, almost like he’s making a point, and it’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable now. “Guess you’ve found someone else to keep you company.”

The words hit harder than his body does, and it’s not the physical tension that bothers you—it’s his tone, his insinuations.

You push against his chest, trying to get him to stop, to look at you properly, “What are you trying to say?" you ask, more firmly now.

A bitter scoff escaping his lips. “Sure. You’re just spending all that extra time with him for fun, right?”

The accusation is clear now. He’s not just upset; he sounds like he's... jealous, even if he won’t admit it outright. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, but it doesn’t feel good anymore. It feels like he’s trying to prove something—to himself or to you, you’re not sure.

“I’m not sleeping with him if that's what you're asking,” you say, pushing back again, harder this time. You need him to hear you, to actually listen.

For a moment, he freezes. His gaze locks with yours, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to believe you, but the jealousy still lingers in his expression, even as his grip softens slightly. He lowers his gaze, shaking his head as if he’s trying to shake off whatever is gnawing at him.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “You do what you want.”

But you can feel it—it does matter to him. He just won’t admit it. The tension in his body tells you more than his words ever could.

The air between you and Jeongin hangs thick with unspoken words, tension tightening every second. His eyes avoid yours, and you're just about to try and say something—anything to cut through this haze—when a shrill ring echoes from your coat pocket.

The sound slices through the moment, making both of you freeze. Your phone. You quickly reach for it, glancing at the screen as you slip out of Jeongin’s grip. The caller ID shows the hospital’s emergency line. Instinct takes over.

“Hello?” you answer, already feeling the shift from personal to professional.

The voice on the other end is urgent. “Doctor, we’ve got a mass casualty event coming in. Multiple vehicle collision on the highway—victims en route. We need you in the ER as soon as possible.”

You swallow, pushing the knot of emotions down. "I’ll be there in five."

Hanging up, you slide the phone back into your coat pocket and look at Jeongin, whose expression has already shifted into the same clinical mask. His jaw tightens slightly, but his eyes don’t meet yours. He knows what the call means.

“We have to go,” you say, breaking the silence. You grab your coat, quickly throwing it on.

Jeongin nods, his face unreadable now. “Yeah. I figured.”

There’s a moment where neither of you moves, standing in the cramped closet, the weight of unfinished business hanging between you. But the urgency of the call pushes it all aside. You decide to be the first to leave, stepping toward the door, pausing briefly, almost waiting for him to say something. Maybe to clear the air or soften whatever this was.

But Jeongin stays silent.

“I’ll see you in the ER,” you say, pulling the door open and stepping out into the hall.

-

The emergency room has quieted significantly after the initial rush, the chaos giving way to a somber stillness.

You check on the elderly couple occupying one of the beds in the ER. The husband is lying on the bed, looking weak but stable, while his wife holds his hand, worry etched on her face.

"Are you still having difficulty breathing?" you ask with a polite smile.

"It's gotten a lot better now," he answers, giving a weak smile.

"That’s good to hear," you reply, glancing at the monitor for his health status.

"Oh, how things turned out," he says with a sigh, "we were just on our way to our little cabin to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary."

You can’t help but smile at the shared information. "You've been married for forty years?"

"Yes," he confirms, his smile brightening his pale face.

"Stop it," his wife gently scolds, patting his arm for oversharing. "Just let the doctor do her job."

You sheepishly smile, pulling your stethoscope around your neck. "Take a deep breath for me," you instruct.

You place the stethoscope against his chest, listening carefully. His breathing sounds better, more stable. Still, you decide it’s best to put more oxygen in his system.

"Let’s get you some more oxygen through respiratory treatment," you suggest.

With him settled, you turn your attention to his wife. "How about you? Are you hurt? Are you experiencing any pain?"

"No, no," she says, shaking her head. "But my heart is beating so fast."

"May I have your hand?" you ask, gently taking it to check her pulse. It’s elevated, her heart rate quick and uneven.

"You do have a rapid pulse," you confirm, handing her back her hand. "Do you feel any heaviness in your chest or pain anywhere else?"

She waves you off with a shy smile. "I think it’s just shock. Please, focus on my husband."

You warn her nonetheless. "Please tell me if you start feeling anything unusual."

"Of course. Thank you, doctor," she says gratefully, echoed by her husband.

You leave them to rest, taking one last glance at them. The wife rests her head on her husband’s arm, their hands still intertwined. It’s a sweet sight, and for a moment, it feels like everything might be okay. But that moment doesn’t last long.

A nurse calls out to you. "Doctor, patient on bed eight went into arrest."

Without hesitation, you dash to the bed, assuming it’s the husband. But when you get there, it’s his wife—unresponsive, her husband frantically calling her name.

"Doctor, please, she’s not breathing," he cries, his voice trembling.

You act fast, checking her pulse—weak, barely there. "No pulse, unresponsive. I need her on a bed, now!" you shout, nurses rushing to help move her.

As soon as she’s laid on the bed, you rip open her shirt, connecting her to the monitor. "Prepare for intubation," you order, before jumping onto the bed to start chest compressions.

The room is tense as you pump her chest, determined to bring her back. "Get the defibrillator, now!" you yell between compressions, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead.

But then, the husband’s voice cuts through the urgency. "Doctor, stop!"

You don’t stop. You can’t stop. You keep pressing down on her chest, counting in your head, willing her heart to start again.

But his voice grows louder. "Doctor! Please, stop!"

"What?" You accidentally snap and looking at him in disbelief. You’re trying to save her—why would he want you to stop?

He steps closer, his face pale with grief. "We decided to do it. We signed the papers. A DNR. We don’t want resuscitation."

A Do Not Resuscitate order. As a doctor, you know what it means and you should respect the patient’s wish but you can't bring yourself to do it. You glance at the nurses, who nod in understanding. You should stop, but everything in you screams to keep trying, to save her.

"Sir, please—" you begin, your voice shaking, refusing to stop. Refusing to fail.

"It’s okay," he whispers, placing a hand on yours. "It’s what she wanted."

With a heavy sigh, you stop the compressions and step down from the bed. As soon as you let go, the monitor flatlines, the piercing sound filling the somber stillness in the room.

The husband pulls a chair next to her bed, taking her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Happy anniversary, my love," he whispers.

You stand there, frozen, tears welling in your eyes. You feel tired and angry and... helpless.

A nurse gently touches your elbow and softly mutters, "Doctor, we need to call it."

You glance at the digital clock on the wall, aware of the time but you can't bring yourself to say it. After a while, you manage to finally announce with a trembling voice, "Time of death: 22:02 p.m."

The moment the words leave your lips, you turn and walk out of the ER, needing air, needing space. You find your way to the balcony, the cold night air hitting your face as you pace back and forth, trying to process everything. The helplessness, the failure—it all crashes down on you.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Jeongin turns you around and pulls you into his arms, and that’s when you break. You sob into his chest, the weight of everything spilling out as he holds you tightly.

"It’s okay," he murmurs softly, his hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing circles on your back. "You’re okay."

Gosh! You want to believe him, but it never feels okay. Death never feels okay.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, breaking the moment. You pull away from Jeongin, checking the screen. It’s a call for work. You reject it, wiping your tears away, trying to compose yourself.

"I have to get back," you croak, your voice barely steady.

Jeongin nods, watching as you force yourself to wipe your cheeks and steel yourself for the rest of the night. You have to keep going, no matter how much it hurts. With one last deep breath, you head back inside, ready to face whatever comes next.

-

It’s an exceptionally peaceful afternoon at the ER. Jeongin leans on the nurse station, typing away at the computer as he reviews his patient's health records. In the distance, he catches sight of you speaking to one of the patients.

"I checked your blood test, and it came out well," you announce to the elderly woman lying in the bed.

"Oh, what a relief!" The lady clasps her chest, the worry on her face melting away in a second.

"Since there's nothing you need to worry about, you can go home tonight," you add with a small smile.

"Thank you, doctor!" The lady beams at you, gratitude in her wide grin.

"The nurse will come by shortly to remove the IV and provide you with your prescription," you inform her before starting to step away.

But then, the lady grabs your hand unexpectedly. "Doctor, you’re not married, are you?" she asks, eyes twinkling with a mischievous curiosity.

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, watching your expression shift into that familiar, polite awkwardness.

You give a small, tight-lipped smile. "No, I’m not."

"My son here..." she pats her son’s shoulder, clearly proud, "he’s still single too. I think the two of you would—"

"Mom!" The son groans, his face flushing red as he glares at his mother.

"What? I think she’s the same age as you," she insists, smiling brightly at you, undeterred.

"You can’t just do that," the son mutters in embarrassment.

"He works at a start-up company," the woman continues, trying to sell her son like a prized item. "He makes—"

"Doctor, you can ignore my mother," the son quickly interjects, his eyes awkwardly avoiding yours. "But thank you for your help."

You offer a polite nod, trying not to laugh at the awkwardness. "Please take care of yourself, ma'am," you say gently, making a graceful exit.

As you walk back to the nurse station, you take the seat next to Jeongin to input some notes into the system. You sign the discharge form and tuck the pen back into your coat pocket.

"I think that's it. I’m done for the day," you mention.

For a second, Jeongin thinks you're talking to him, but then you address the nurses gathered nearby.

"Have a great night, everyone," you say before leaving the station with your hands deep in your coat pockets.

Jeongin watches you leave, something unsettling nagging at him. He can't quite place it. Maybe it's the conversation from earlier in the storage closet that lingers in the back of his mind. Or maybe it’s the strange peace that’s settled between the two of you today, the lack of bickering or tension. It feels... off.

The two of you rarely talk about anything beyond work. You’ve both learned how to be civil by not saying much at all. But tonight, Jeongin senses there’s more to it, though he brushes the thought away, convincing himself it’s best to let things stay as they are.

Later, as he heads to the office to change, he finds you already there, seated on the sofa and scrolling through your phone. You’ve changed out of your scrubs and into casual clothes, but you glance up when you hear him enter.

"Aren’t you going home?" Jeongin asks casually as he drops into his chair.

"I was waiting for you," you respond simply.

Something stirs in his chest, but he keeps his face neutral. "Why?"

"I figured we could have dinner together," you reply, as if it’s no big deal—like it’s not the first time you’ve ever asked him for something beyond work.

Jeongin raises a brow, suspicion lacing his tone. "What’s the occasion?"

"Why? We can’t have dinner together?" You challenge him, deflecting his question.

Jeongin sees this as an opening to address the unresolved tension between you, but he plays it cool, pretending to think over your offer just to make you wait.

"Okay," he finally agrees.

You stand, grabbing your bag from your desk. "I’ll be waiting in my car," you say, already moving toward the door, the usual privacy shield between the two of you slipping back into place.

Jeongin watches you leave, a faint smile tugging at his lips. There you are—the guarded, reserved you he knows so well, unwilling to be seen with him in any context outside of work. But there’s something about it that makes him smile, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you're starting to warm up to him after all.

-

The silence in the car is almost unbearable. Jeongin taps his fingers lightly against his knee, trying to think of something—anything—to say. You’re the one driving, which leaves him with nothing to do but sit and awkwardly glance out the window. Small talk has never been his strong suit, and right now, it feels like the weight of everything unsaid between you is pressing down on him.

"So... dinner, huh?" Jeongin mumbles, feeling awkward as he tries to break the quiet.

"Yeah." Your response is short, almost too casual, but you don’t elaborate.

Jeongin notices you haven’t mentioned where the idea for dinner came from. Not that he minds—it’s just… unexpected. He rests an arm against the window as he glances out at the city lights passing by.

There’s a weight in his chest he hasn’t quite figured out. He wonders if it’s because of the conversation you two didn’t finish in the closet or the fact that things between you feel a little off lately.

"So… where did you find this place?" he asks, trying to push past the awkwardness. He doesn’t even know what restaurant you’re heading to, but he feels like he should say something else.

"A friend recommended it," you reply, again leaving little room for more conversation.

Jeongin shifts in his seat, feeling every second stretch out. He’s not used to this—the awkwardness between you. There was a time when your conversations flowed effortlessly, even if they were mostly about work. Now, every word feels like it has a double meaning, every pause filled with things neither of you are willing to say.

When you finally pull up to the restaurant, Jeongin is relieved to have something else to focus on. He watches as you park the car, then unbuckle his seatbelt and step out into the cool evening air. He follows you inside, glancing around the cozy, dimly lit space.

The atmosphere is intimate, not exactly what he was expecting, but maybe this could work. Maybe it’s the kind of setting where you could finally talk. But as soon as you turn the corner toward your reserved table, Jeongin feels his stomach drop.

Felix is already there. He’s seated at the table, smiling brightly like this is completely normal, like he’s supposed to be there.

Jeongin’s steps falter for a moment, shock hitting him first, followed by a wave of disappointment that sinks deeper than he wants to admit. He thought this dinner would be just the two of you.

"Hey!" Felix greets, waving both of you over. His energy is infectious, but it feels entirely misplaced in this moment. "Glad you two could make it!"

Jeongin’s gaze flickers to you, waiting for an explanation. Did you know Felix would be here? Of course you did. The pieces click into place, and disappointment creeps in. You didn’t tell him because you knew he wouldn’t have come if you did. He tries not to let it show, but it stings. He thought it’d just be the two of you tonight, that maybe you’d get a chance to talk.

"You didn’t say Felix invited us," Jeongin says quietly, trying to keep his tone neutral, though a flicker of something bitter curls inside him.

You glance at him, then shrug lightly. "Figured you wouldn’t come if I told you."

He clenches his jaw, forcing a small, tight smile. You’re right. He wouldn’t have. But now that he’s here, it feels like everything he was hoping to get out of this dinner has been thrown off course.

Felix beams at both of you, completely unaware of the tension settling between you and Jeongin. "Come on, sit down! I already ordered drinks."

Jeongin slides into his seat, feeling more deflated than before. Instead of a quiet dinner, where maybe—just maybe—he could have figured out what’s been going on between you two, he now has Felix sitting across from him. He can’t even be mad at Felix; it’s not his fault. But the disappointment still weighs heavy, gnawing at the back of his mind.

"So," Felix starts, completely oblivious, "what should we order for dinner?"

-

Jeongin feels the weight of being the third wheel settle over him like a suffocating blanket as the dinner progresses.

Felix, sitting across from him, effortlessly commands your attention. You both laugh about some story from work, and Jeongin just sits there, chewing absentmindedly on his food, nodding when needed but otherwise silent.

It’s not like he hates Felix—not even close. But tonight, with the way things are playing out, he can’t help feeling a little out of place.

Felix turns to Jeongin, probably noticing his silence, and asks, “So, Jeongin, how’ve things been at the hospital? Busy?”

Jeongin blinks, caught off guard. He doesn’t particularly feel like talking, so he mutters, “Yeah, busy.”

Felix waits a beat, expecting more, but when Jeongin doesn’t continue, Felix’s gaze flickers to you as if asking for help. You don’t miss a beat, jumping in seamlessly.

"He’s been pulling back-to-back shifts," you explain, glancing at Jeongin as you speak. "Somehow still manages to stay sharp during surgeries. We were just handling a rough case earlier, actually."

Jeongin freezes, surprised by how easily you talk about his work. You even mention the kind of stuff he doesn’t usually share, not because he’s hiding it, but because he didn’t think you’d notice. But you do.

It’s a strange feeling—being known like this. He tries to brush it off, but it stays with him, lingering in his chest.

Felix nods along, smiling warmly. "That’s impressive. I’ve heard you’re pretty sharp in the OR."

Jeongin shrugs, keeping his reply short again. "Just doing my job."

Once more, the conversation starts slipping away from him, with you and Felix talking like old friends. Jeongin isn’t sure if it’s because Felix is easy to talk to, or if it’s just that the two of you seem to have this natural flow. Either way, Jeongin feels more like a spectator than a participant.

“Jeongin, you’re pretty athletic too, right?” Felix asks after a pause, trying to loop him back into the conversation.

“Yeah. A bit,” Jeongin answers, glancing at his plate. He’s tempted to shut down completely, but something in the way Felix keeps trying to engage him makes him feel slightly guilty.

Still, it’s hard to focus when Felix’s attention keeps drifting back to you. Every joke, every story feels like another reminder of how well you and Felix click. And that doesn’t sit well with him.

You’re both laughing at something Felix said, and Jeongin’s jaw clenches ever so slightly. He’s tempted—so tempted—to say something. Maybe drop a line about how you and Felix don’t match, or make some sarcastic comment about Felix’s efforts to befriend him. But he holds back. It wouldn’t be right.

Just as Jeongin feels the tension boiling in his chest, your phone buzzes on the table. You glance at the screen, your brows furrowing.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” you say, standing up and excusing yourself. "I’ll be back in a minute."

Jeongin watches you leave, his thoughts racing. Alone with Felix, he feels exposed. There’s no buffer now, and he’s not sure if he can handle more forced conversation.

Felix, still smiling, leans back in his chair. “So... the two of you. What’s the story there?” His tone is casual, but Jeongin can sense there’s more to the question.

Jeongin’s grip on his fork tightens, and for a second, he considers telling Felix exactly how he feels. About the tension, the confusion, the frustration of trying to figure out what the hell is going on between the two of you. But instead, he stays silent.

Felix chuckles lightly, mistaking Jeongin’s silence for shyness. “I can see that the two of you are close.”

Jeongin finally meets Felix’s eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s tempted to say something—anything—to throw Felix off.

Maybe something along the lines of, *You two don’t even look good together*. But he knows it’s pointless. He doesn’t even know what kind of relationship *he* has with you, let alone how you and Felix fit into the picture.

Before Jeongin can say anything, you come back to the table, phone still in hand, looking a little flustered.

“I’ve got to head back to the hospital,” you announce, already grabbing your things. “Emergency surgery. I’m really sorry.”

Felix waves it off with a grin. “Don’t worry about it. Go save some lives.”

Jeongin’s gaze flickers to you, a sudden pang of disappointment hitting him. Not because you’re leaving, but because he thought this dinner—awkward as it was—might have been a chance to get somewhere.

You shoot Jeongin an apologetic look. "Please, continue with the dinner!"

Before he can respond, you’re already gone, rushing out of the restaurant and leaving him alone with Felix.

-

Since Jeongin rode with you earlier, and Felix insisted on giving him a lift home, Jeongin finds himself with no other option but to accept the offer. He slides into the passenger seat, the quiet hum of the car engine filling the space.

"So, where do you live?" Felix asks, his deep voice carrying easily in the enclosed space.

"Uh... actually, can you drop me off at the hospital? I need to get my car," he replies, keeping his tone polite. After all, Felix is the director of the hospital, and it’s best to maintain a sense of professionalism.

Felix gives him a kind smile, his eyes briefly flicking from the road to Jeongin. "It’s fine, I can drive you home. You can always pick up your car tomorrow."

Jeongin’s jaw tightens slightly. Something about Felix always makes it hard to refuse, no matter how much Jeongin wants to. "It’s just that I... I need to grab something from my car," he lies, feeling the tension creep up his spine.

Felix eyes him for a moment, then nods slowly. "Alright. I’ll take you to the hospital."

They drive in relative silence, the weight of Jeongin’s unease hanging between them. When they finally reach the hospital entrance, Jeongin quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door.

"Thanks again. For the dinner... and the ride," Jeongin says, forcing a smile as he steps out.

Felix waves it off with a warm smile of his own. "Please, don’t mention it."

That smile, so genuine, makes Jeongin feel worse for how bitter he had been during dinner. He watches as Felix’s car pulls away, the taillights fading into the distance before he turns and heads inside.

At the nurse’s station, Jeongin gathers the information he needs, quietly asking for your whereabouts. As soon as he hears you're in the operating room, he makes his way to the observational deck of OR 2.

From behind the glass, Jeongin watches you work. You're in the middle of a liver transplant, your movements precise, focused, and deliberate. It's clear that your approach to surgery differs from his. While Jeongin relies on his instincts, going with his gut and adjusting as the situation unfolds, you’re methodical—each step planned and calculated, every possible complication considered before it even happens.

Yet, despite these differences, Jeongin knows that you share the same ultimate goal: saving lives. It’s what both of you swore to do when you took the Hippocratic oath. And even though your methods diverge, your dedication is something Jeongin has always admired.

Looking down from the observational deck, Jeongin enjoys watching you like this—in your element, calm and collected. Here, in the operating room, it’s like you belong, completely immersed in the task at hand, leaving no room for error.

He watches as you instruct your team, your focus unwavering, and he feels a pang in his chest. He likes that you give everything to your work, pouring yourself into every surgery as if it’s the only thing that matters in the world. But he hates how you don’t give yourself that same care, how you don’t seem to see just how incredible you are, how all the lives you've saved are a testament to your brilliance.

Jeongin leans back, his arms crossed over his chest, a quiet smile playing on his lips. He likes that he knows someone as dedicated as you, someone who can match him in passion and skill. But more than that, he likes you. And that’s something he’s been trying to come to terms with for a while now.

-

It’s always a relief to know the operation went well, but there’s nothing quite like the satisfaction of seeing it go exactly as you anticipated. You peel off your gloves, discard the mask, and shed the surgical scrubs, taking a moment to make yourself presentable before facing the patient’s family. They’re waiting for you, their eyes full of worry and hope.

"The operation went well," you tell them immediately, knowing it’s what they need to hear most.

One of them nearly buckles with relief, her knees giving way as she clutches her chest. "Oh, goodness..."

You keep your tone calm but clear as you explain further, "We’ll be monitoring closely to ensure the body accepts the transplant, but so far, everything looks good."

"Thank you so much, doctor!" another family member exclaims, gripping your hand tightly, her gratitude palpable.

"You shouldn’t thank me. You should be thanking the donor." you say gently, reminding them of where their gratefulness should be delivered to.

With that, you excuse yourself and head back inside, the echoes of their thanks fading behind you. Once you reach the locker room, you allow yourself a moment to decompress. Sitting on the bench, you let your body relax, the weight of the day finally starting to lift from your shoulders.

After taking the time to unwind, you wash up and change into fresh scrubs. It’s late, too late to head home, so you decide to spend the night in your office.

When you enter, you’re surprised to find Jeongin sitting on the sofa. The room is dim, the only light coming from the small lamp on your desk. He’s sitting there quietly, his face partially hidden in the shadows.

"Why are you here?" you ask as you move closer and sit down beside him on the couch.

"I just want to," he replies, his tone casual, as if that’s all the explanation you need. Typical Jeongin.

You open a bottle of water and take a long sip, letting the silence stretch for a moment.

"How was the rest of the dinner?" you ask, trying to fill the quiet.

"It was alright," he says vaguely, and it’s just like him to be frustratingly noncommittal. It bothers you a little, but you’ve grown used to it by now.

"He likes you, you know," you say, wanting to clear up any misunderstanding about the dinner with Felix.

Jeongin frowns, clearly confused. "Who?"

"Felix," you answer, watching his expression carefully.

"If he likes me, he should raise my salary and give me a new car," Jeongin jokes, and you can’t help but laugh at his obliviousness. He doesn’t see the difference between being someone’s favorite colleague and being their romantic interest.

You take another sip of water, then put the cap back on the bottle and set it aside. "He likes you as in he wants to date you."

That seems to catch him off guard. He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, clearly trying to process the information.

"But I don’t like him," he says after a long pause, his voice colder than you expect.

"Why?" you ask, turning to look at him. "He’s a great guy."

His eyes meet yours in the dim light, dark and unreadable. He’s quiet for a moment, and then, in a low voice, he says, "Because he’s not you."

The words hit you harder than you expect, lingering in the quiet room like a confession you weren’t prepared to hear.

-

Jeongin doesn’t know whether to feel relieved that Felix wasn’t interested in you or uneasy at the idea that Felix wants to date him. Either way, the misunderstanding settles heavily on him, and now that everything is clear, it feels like the right time to speak his truth. He knows it could change things between you, but he’s never been one to hold back when something matters.

"But I don’t like him," Jeongin states, his voice firm, filled with certainty.

"Why? He’s a great guy," you reply, seemingly unaware of the tension in his eyes, the kind of tension that only exists when someone is holding something back.

"Because he’s not you," he finally reveals, the words falling from his lips before he has a chance to second-guess them.

Your eyes lock with his, and instead of brushing it off or retreating, you hold his gaze, searching. You’re looking for any hint that he’s just toying with you, but there’s nothing in his eyes except sincerity.

"I like you," Jeongin admits, his voice softer now, vulnerable. He keeps his eyes on you, giving you the chance to look right into him, to see that he means every word.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenge, your voice edged with doubt. "We’re not exactly what people call a match made in heaven."

You laugh, but it’s a bitter sound as you add, "a match made in hell more like."

Jeongin shakes his head, brushing away your cynicism like it doesn’t matter to him in the slightest.

"I don’t care what people think," he says, his voice filled with the quiet confidence that defines him. He never has cared about others' opinions, especially not now, when something real is at stake.

Before you can say anything else, before you can retreat back into doubt or second-guess his intentions, he cups your face in his hand and pulls you toward him. His lips meet yours in a kiss that leaves no room for misinterpretation. It’s not rushed, not hesitant—just honest, as if he’s pouring every unspoken word into that moment. If words weren’t enough to convince you, maybe this will.

-

The room is dim, shadows pooling around the edges, but the quiet has dissolved into a symphony of shared moans and the sound of skin meeting skin.

Your naked bodies are entwined on the sofa, Jeongin’s weight pressing you firmly beneath him. Your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer with each steady thrust.

His movements are deliberate, each one more intense than the last, as if he’s letting you know with his body that every touch, every motion, has meaning behind it. His lips are locked onto yours, claiming you with kisses that steal your breath, each one deep and consuming.

The occasional moan escapes from you, slipping into his mouth between kisses, but it’s not just the physical that overwhelms you this time. It’s the rawness, the intensity, the vulnerability.

This is more than just lust, more than just pleasure—this feels personal, like every inch of him is offering something deeper.

It becomes too much, emotions stirring within you in ways you can’t control. You need more than just the moment—you need certainty. Your hand moves to his chest, gently pressing him back.

"Jeongin, I want you," you say, your voice soft but resolute.

He halts, his brow furrowed, puzzled by your words. You’re having him right now, aren’t you? His breath is shallow as he props himself up, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"And I want you," he mutters back, bracing himself against the sofa, trying to make sense of the moment.

You push him a little further, enough that his body reluctantly pulls out of yours. "If you want me..." you whisper, your fingers wrapping around the base of the condom, peeling it away with slow intent until it snaps. You look into his eyes, guiding him back toward you, but this time, without any lay of protection between you.

"... Then I want you to show me," you continue, bringing him to your entrance once more, your body inviting him back inside, bare and exposed.

His cock sinks into you, filling you completely, and a shudder courses through both of you as you take him all in. You grip his shoulders, pulling him down until your bodies are flush together again, the heat between you almost unbearable.

You kiss him hastily, dragging your lips to his ear, whispering words that send a pulse of need through him, "Cum inside me. Claim me. Make me yours."

There’s a shift in Jeongin then, something both primal and tender. He knows what this means, the weight of responsibility, the choice he’s making. But more than anything, he’s ready—ready for you, for this, for wherever this takes him.

His lips brush against yours, lingering for a moment before he pulls back just enough to say, "You’re already mine."

And then he’s moving again, thrusting into you with more conviction, more purpose, every stroke filled with the warmth of his feelings for you. This isn’t just about lust or release—this is him claiming you, and in turn, letting himself be claimed by you.

As he continues, his pace growing more fervent, you can feel the connection deepening, the lines between colleagues, friends, and now lovers, blurring into something more.

Jeongin has you now, in every way he’s ever wanted, and nothing feels more right.

-

The tension in the room is palpable as Jeongin stalks toward you, eyes narrowed in frustration. You can see the confusion on the faces of the nurses and residents around you, everyone wondering why the two of you can’t ever seem to get along. If only they knew.

"Next time, think before you act," Jeongin snaps, arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down. "You’re not the only doctor here."

You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. "I’ll try, but not all of us can make every decision like you, Doctor Perfect."

There’s an audible gasp from one of the nurses, and you feel the tension in the room skyrocket. But instead of getting angrier, you catch the slightest smirk on Jeongin’s lips, just for you.

He steps closer, his voice lowering just enough that only you can hear. "You’re pushing it," he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing.

You glance up at him, your heart racing. "And you love it," you say under your breath.

The others in the room think you’re at each other’s throats again, but beneath the surface, your teasing exchanges carry a completely different meaning. Jeongin’s eyes flash with that familiar mix of frustration and something else, something that always leaves you feeling on edge.

"You keep acting like this, and people are going to start thinking I actually hate you," he says, his voice low but filled with amusement.

"Maybe you do," you shoot back, but your lips twitch as if fighting a smile.

The argument seems heated enough to the others, but you know the truth. This is just a game, one you’ve both gotten dangerously good at. To the outside world, you’re bitter colleagues who can’t agree on anything. But in private…

Jeongin steps even closer, brushing past you as if he’s done with the conversation. His fingers briefly graze your hand, and your heart skips a beat. As he walks away, his voice drops so low it sends a shiver down your spine.

"Meet me in the supply closet in five."

Your pulse quickens, and as he leaves the room, you can’t help but smirk. Everyone else in the room is left awkwardly silent, confused by the ongoing tension, while you’re counting the minutes until you can slip away.

Soon enough, you find each other in the enclosed space. The tension from earlier still clings to the air, but there’s an underlying current of something else now—something electric.

"You know," Jeongin says, standing so close facing you, "for two people who supposedly can’t stand each other, we end up in situations like this a lot."

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light despite the weight between you. "Maybe we’re just bad at pretending."

He smirks, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "Or maybe we’re just bad at staying away."

There’s a charged silence, the kind that always seems to follow you both around—like you’re constantly on the verge of either fighting or… something else.

"You frustrate me," you admit, meeting his gaze head-on.

Jeongin chuckles, stepping closer. "The feeling’s mutual."

But there’s no malice in his voice, just something warmer, something deeper. His foxy eyes, usually sharp and guarded, soften just a little as he looks at you. You can tell he’s thinking, deciding whether to break the unspoken rules you’ve both built around this secret.

"Why do we keep doing this?" you ask, your voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

Jeongin steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

"Because we don’t know how to stop," he says softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. His touch is gentle, contrasting with the fiery arguments and clashing wills that define so much of your time together.

"Jeongin…" you murmur, but whatever you were going to say gets lost as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is slow at first, almost testing, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into it, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. It’s not rushed or frantic, but it’s full of everything that’s been bubbling beneath the surface for so long—the frustration, the tension, the unspoken feelings.

His hands settle on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. But you’re not going anywhere. Not now.

When you finally pull back, both of you breathless, he rests his forehead against yours.

"We’re a mess," he mutters, but there’s a smile on his lips, a warmth in his voice that wasn’t there before.

"Yeah," you agree, your voice soft but teasing. "But we work, don’t we?"

Jeongin chuckles, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Somehow, we do."

You smile, pulling him down for another kiss, this one more playful, as if to remind him that no matter how many arguments or misunderstandings there are, you always come back to this—to each other.

"You know," you murmur against his lips, "we’re going to keep arguing in front of everyone."

Jeongin laughs, his breath warm against your skin. "Let them think what they want," he whispers, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "They’ll never know."

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing there in the quiet. No arguments, no pretense. Just you, Jeongin, and the unspoken understanding that whatever this is between you—it’s real. Messy, complicated, and maybe even a little dysfunctional. But it’s yours.

And maybe that’s enough.

-

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[revelboo]

Yoooo, happy birthday🎉🎉🎉🎉

Hope it's been a relaxing/good one. :P

Mostly just running errands. Might play Destiny 2 for a bit- I’m pretty boring 🤣

Gravity Pt 3

Optimus x Reader

• Freedom, it’s something he believes in not just for his Autobots, but for all living beings. And yet, he’s had to take yours away to protect the surviving Autobots. Wants to believe that if the humans that know about them are allowed to leave, that they’ll keep that precious secret. He just can’t risk it. There’s so few of them left and without knowing if there are any survivors left on Cybertron, this might be it. The last of his people looking to him for safety, but that doesn’t ease the guilt. Or the burden of that decision.

• From what you’ve been able to figure out Prime is a title. One that’s earned and important. A leader. A protector. Funny then that the big guy seems so uncertain around you. Seeming lost whenever he needs to pick you up and move you. You’d have thought someone in charge would be more assertive, but he’s not. At least not with you. It’s almost funny when he crouches down to talk to you, like he’s trying to be less threatening. Or when he offers you something and then just watches you, not relaxing until you make a show of thanking him. It’s kind of cute that someone so huge can be so awkward.

• Bent forward over his data pad, the feel of little hands on his arm almost startles him. You’re leaning over his arm to peer at the screen in his hands, offering him a shy little smile when he looks over at you. Before you inhale and slide your soft palms against his arm, the sensation shivering through him. “You guys run hot, huh?”

• With that mask covering most of his face, it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you’re almost positive that he’s unsettled by your touch. “Are you cold?” That deep, rumbling voice travels through you where you’re leaning on him and you shiver, before sliding down to sit with your back against his arm so you can enjoy that warmth of his and not be able to see him staring at you. He’s been gentle with you so far, but firm in his insistence that you have to stay in the Ark. And you can play along, bide your time. You’re not sure what he thinks of you. Maybe that you’re a pet, but you do know you’re not just going to accept that.

• “I’m fine,” you say. He can feel you leaning against him. Knew Ratchet had mentioned that the Ark was too cold for humans and that the others had eventually sought out a mech’s body heat. He just hadn’t expected you to be so relaxed around him already. Most of the humans aren’t adjusting so well to their new lives, another source of guilt. Apparently Cliffjumper’s rescue still cries most of the time. Prowl’s hates him. Actually, he’s not entirely sure that any of them are adapting well except maybe Wheeljack and Bluestreak’s. Every unwilling human trapped here a failure on his part. Another weight pulling him down. But looking at you leaning against him, he wants to fix it. Needs to.

Previous

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[thatnonameuser]

abt ur yandere twst au; do darlings get kidnapped for ransom? For example: would people kidnap Leona’s darling in order to get ransom (they’d be killed instead)?

Want a rich yandere to freak the fuck out the moment they realise their darling is missing and give you more money than you know what to do with, which is actually a bluff, because you’re actually going to die from extensive torture once their darling is safe? Kidnap their darling, your wallet and grave will thank you.

But yes, it does happen. Which is why wealthy yanderes take very severe precautions.

I’ve mentioned before that Kalim’s father has taken some very morally black methods to protect his darling and his kids from kidnappers. (here if you’re interested). But if a darling is kidnapped for ransom and their lives are threatened, the kidnapper better have the entire universe on their side because they’re as good as dead.

Yanderes don’t mess around. They’ll pay whatever fee they have to, nothing is too high. But as soon as the darling’s safe, the yandere will stain their hands in blood. 

So at the trade off for the darling, expect that once you’re back in their arms, the kidnapper is dead. Deader than dead, not even a shred remains. If the yandere doesn’t kill them, then they hire assassins. If they do kill them, then it’s just that much worse for the kidnapper. They’re not getting out of this alive.

Also because I’m feeling nice. Enjoy some semi-imagines with the rich boys of TWST having MC get kidnapped and their reaction to it.

Leona Kingscholar

Pissed. Very pissed. He may not be king but that doesn’t excuse the guards not doing their god damn jobs and keeping you safe. (He will be more angry if he finds out that Falena’s wife didn’t get kidnapped and you did, just throwing gasoline onto the fire.) And to make matters worse, they’re threatening to kill you. Well, they’re fucking dead.

Leona may be angry but he’s still smart. He isn’t risking letting anything happen to you, so he’ll play along until he can guarantee that you’re safe before killing whoever had the balls to kidnap you. And since he’s a prince, he can bend the law to get you back. The beastman’s coming for you himself, and he’ll turn anyone that threatens you to grains of sand under his palm. 

After he gets you back, he’s not going to let you out of his sight. And if he has to, he’s always going to be nearby. His rage hasn’t calmed down at all either. Plain and simple, you’re his and anyone that gets in the way of that deserves a slow death, and the fact that he nearly lost you is weighing on him. 

Before getting you back - Furious, ready to kill and reduce whoever's stolen you to sand.

After getting you back - Still angry, you're not leaving his sight or going near anyone that's not him.

Kalim Al-Asim

Sunshine boy’s panicking. Like completely panicking. He’s been kidnapped before and (while that’s a can of worms for another day), you haven’t gone through something so scary before. To him, he thinks that  you must be so terrified, surrounded by strangers that want to hurt you for something as shallow as money.

So after Jamil calms him down enough to think rationally, he begs for his help to save you. After all, you’re in terrible danger and he’s ready to throw as much money as he has to save you if need be but he doesn’t want to risk them trying again in the future. Plus he’s the hair of the Asim family, he might get kidnapped or killed too and then who will protect you.

So sending assassins is to foil their operation, and bring you home is the best bet. And they’re the best money can buy.

You’ll probably be a little shaken when you come home, and a little bit of kidnapper blood might be on your skin, but it's nothing a nice bath and a fest won't cure. Just expect to constantly be followed around by a team of at least six bodyguards. Or maybe Najma. Just know that Kalim is considering taking after dear old dad.

Before getting you back - Kalim's worried to death about not seeing you again. Or you getting hurt. 

After getting you back - He's gone over-protective not allowing you to ever go missing or get hurt ever again. He'll take the morally gray way out if he needs to, but he can’t bear to risk losing you.

Vil Schoenheit

If he gets stress wrinkles because of this, he’ll make sure that the kidnappers suffer even more. Vil’s used to threats of kidnapping, the fact the imbeciles actually went through with it is brave. Incredibly stupid, but brave. Regardless, he’s losing his mind with worry and anger. His fans are deranged, he’s worried for your safety. 

To Vil’s benefit, he has Rook. And Rook’s UM is basically goated when it comes to locating someone not meant to be found. So obviously, Rook goes to get you with orders from Vil to bring your kidnappers back with you for him to deal with. 

Vil will do his best to keep this crisis away from the media. He doesn’t need for you to be mobbed by the press, so expect a delightful trip to an isolated, relaxing and aesthetically pleasing vacation somewhere in the Shaftlands to protect you. But that relaxing little trip, is also so he can torture those imbeciles for the rest of their miserable little lives. He may not like portraying a villain but he’ll be one if he’s pushed. Besides, Rook will happily take care of the bodies. 

He’ll calm down after you’re out of harm's way, but anticipate that he won't ever let you out in public without him or someone he trusts with you.

Before getting you back - Pissed with a poker face. He’s worried for your well-being, and if a hair is harmed on your head, he’ll snap.

After getting you back - He’ll calm down, but he’ll start to be very protective. Don’t ask him about the screams you might hear in the basement of where you’re staying when he’s not with you, it’s nothing important.

Neige LeBlanche

One of the prices of fame. Neige is horrified that someone would try to take you to take advantage of him. Honestly, he would have rather been the one whose life was held on the line than have you brought into the mess. Neige has never been more scared in his entire life.

Obviously, he’ll get you back. Hand off the money and everything, but he’s not happy about those ‘villains’ going unpunished for scaring you like that. As soon as he’s sure that you’ll be safe and sound. He’ll go to the press to tell his heartbreaking story.

So que the imminent waterworks to the paparazzi. After all, he knows they’ll be immediately moved. Neige’s most precious one, his darling, had their life threatened and he was terrified that he wouldn’t get you back before it’s too late. 

His fans do the rest. 

On the impromptu vacation Neige took you on to help you recover from the experience, (or more specifically, the trip to a very isolated location where you both can be alone with no kidnappers in sight) Neige will receive some ‘fan mail’ with the remains of the perpetrators. He won’t show you though, you’ve been through so much recently. 

Before getting you back - He's so scared for you. You're his princess he can't bear to lose you for even a second. So having you gone is a nightmare.

After getting you back - Relieved. He's so happy to have you back. You're never leaving his side again. He's a little peeved that someone tried to disrupt your happily ever after, but they’re no longer breathing so who cares. 

Idia Shroud

Panic attack. Instant Panic attack, Ortho better have Baymax functions because he’s gonna pass out in panic. How the hell did this even happen?! He has drones following you constantly! 

After he has his panic attack, he’s burning red in anger. How dare they?! How fucking dare they?! He’s putting all his energy into figuring out every last thing about your kidnappers’ lives. He’ll find you, obviously. And then he’ll send S.T.Y.X after them to return you home while he ruins their entire lives. Then he'll kill those noobs so that he sends a message.

As soon as you’re back, he’s a sobbing wreck. He’s already lost Ortho, he can’t lose you too. You won’t be leaving his room while he has his pity party. And you probably shouldn’t because it’ll just make him feel even worse. Comfort him a bit, will ya?

Before getting you back - A whirlwind of panic and anger. He’s in doxxing mode, man. Your kidnappers better be prepared to suffer for a while, before he gets merciful and kills them.

After getting you back - Tears, so many tears. And he’ll be a koala with how clingy he’ll be. 

Malleus Draconia

Whichever kidnapper thought this was a good idea needs to get their brain checked because it’s currently missing. The exact second Malleus realizes the danger you’re in, he’s turning into a dragon to find and save you and then kill the kidnappers in a raging inferno. Forget stopping to plan or temporarily co-operating, the man’s gone to find you before the ransom letter hits the floor. (Sure there’s the threat of iron, but he doesn’t care you’re in danger.)

In a word, he’s furious. In a lot of words, he’s so angry that a category five hurricane has started outside to reflect his rage. If even a hair is missing from your head, he’s probably going to lose it. Gotta love that he’s enchanted all your jewelry to serve as tracking devices. Because he’s there in under an hour, burning your kidnappers to death till nothing remains. After that, it’s back home to put you into a tower so heavily fortified and reinforced that a fly couldn’t accidentally get through the door. 

Once you’re safe, the sadness kicks in. He can’t bear to lose you ever. So the fact that he let his guard down enough to nearly let you be killed is breaking him. His entire purpose is to protect and love you, and he’s failed in that, so please do your best to reassure him that you’re not going to leave him, he’s had a hard ten minutes. 

Oh, but don’t expect to go outside for the next year though once you do. He’s not exactly under the impression that you won’t be taken from him again. So he’s going to be even more clingy and protective.

Before getting you back - Angry, infuriated, vengeful. He's killing someone today and it's going to be one or all of your kidnappers. 

After getting you back - Sad dragon hours. He's craving reassurance and your love to make himself feel better. Give him cuddles, please.