#because his face journey when he had to deal with First?

[lukaherehelp]

Prom truly doesn't get paid enough to deal with whatever Aob and Puen have going on

[sleepymarimo]

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣!

summary: the first time you make their heart skip a beat, w/ monster trio + law! pairing(s): luffy x gn!reader, zoro x gn!reader, sanji x gn!reader, law x gn!reader cw: none! an: ahhhh idk how to feel about this one but i hope you enjoy :') 👐

luffy

there are a lot of things that get luffy's heart racing.

a good meal. a cool looking fish. a killer party. all of it makes this captain happy, because he revels in the adventure. he lives for the moment. he feels deeply and strongly, a trait that acts as a double edged sword.

like now, as a torrent of anger and worry swirl in his chest and weigh him down. he's running through some dense woods, bursting through trees and falling down hills, a look of determination on his face.

an enemy had managed to sneak up on the crew.

what's worse? they ran off. with you.

luffy doesn't think twice. he pushes through anything in his way for the sake of finding you before things got too rough. as he runs, he finds the enemy's actions cowardly. someone using you to draw him out makes him irritate. he doesn't care if he's falling into some trap; he'd deal with whatever was put in front of him so long as he could rescue you.

he's worried for your well being, of course he is. even though he can't see you, he can feel you. his observation haki lets him know how frightened you are, a fact that makes him all the more angry.

then finally, in the distance, he catches sight of you.

you're in a clearing, the enemy looming over you. they're raising a weapon in your direction, much too close.

luffy feels his blood boil. he grabs ahold of some trees, running backwards and preparing to launch himself in your direction as fast as he can. his rubber arms grow taut as he stretches, his mind set on rescuing you.

an annoyed huff leaves him when he hears the enemy taunting you, threatening your life and mocking your ambitions. it has luffy's anger rising, because there was no way he'd let your dreams get made fun of. by anyone.

his thoughts become hazy, his strong feelings taking hold of his actions.

then, luffy hears it. it's like a melody, absolute music to his ears.

your laugh.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his head clears.

he can feel a big smile curling at his lips. his grin is all teeth, his eyes shining with equal parts pride and mischief. it's like a fire has been lit in his soul, like he's a toy that's just been wound up to the max.

even in your current predicament, even when you're utterly terrified, you have faith in yourself. in him.

if you can laugh, then so can he.

finally, he yells out his signature move, launching himself at the enemy and landing a punch so hard that it makes the air itself tremble.

"luffy!" you call with some tears prickling in your eyes, your limbs still shaky from the adrenaline. your smile falters at the edges, relief flooding your body. "you made it!"

your captain comes to life upon seeing your smile up close, his heart beating like a drum. his rubber arms wrap around you and he squeezes you to his chest, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"of course i did!" he grins, grabbing you by the hand and urging you to run with him to the ship. his grip on you is tight and secure. glancing back at you, he can't help but feel grateful to have you with him on this journey.

he snickers, letting emotion run through him without restriction. "you made my heart feel funny!"

zoro

after another victory, the straw hat pirates found themselves reveling in drinks, food and company.

for a while, the swordsman finds himself amidst the other heavy drinkers. he grins and knocks back bottle after bottle, content with listening to the animated conversations around him and observing the party.

eventually though, he craves some solitude. and so, he heads off towards a less occupied area where he can drink in peace.

he basks in isolation, until you manage to find your way to him. a big grin is on your face and he can't help but reciprocate with a small smirk when he notices your inebriated state. unceremoniously, you plop down next to him at a respectable distance.

“hey zo', gimme some!” you nod towards the large bottle he holds, completely immersed in the light, upbeat atmosphere. one of your hands even reaches out, making a sort of grabbing motion.

he possessively tightens his grip on the bottle, his expression hardening slightly as his brows furrowed. "hah? this is mine, go grab your own bottle."

"i don't wanna full drink, jus' need a little more and i'll be good." you answer, well aware of your limits. your tone becomes pleading as you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. "one sip. please?"

with a groan, he relents. he grumbles something about you being lucky that he's in such a good mood, before extending the bottle in your direction.

yet, it appears that you have some more tricks up your sleeve.

instead of grabbing the bottle, you simply tilt your head back and let your mouth hang open. you make an 'ah' sound, waiting for him to bestow you with the gift of alcohol.

he's a little taken aback at first. seriously? you wanted him to pour it for you? ugh, fine...

he rolls his eye and uses his free hand to firmly hold your jaw steady and open, bringing the bottle up and pouring the sake into your mouth.

your hand rests on his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over his knuckles.

it's all fine at first, until his eyes lock with yours. in that moment, he seems to acknowledge the intimacy of the act, something primal stirring in his gut as he looked down at you. his cheeks redden.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his muscles tense and he goes almost still. he gets so distracted that his hand moves upwards, effectively drowning your face with sake. your head snaps back into its natural position and you start to cough, the alcohol burning your nostrils.

you give the swordsman an incredulous look, wiping the excess sake from your face. “what the hell was that for?”

“you’re the one that moved!” he sharply replies, even though he knows damn well that you were sitting good and still for him.

focusing inward, he seems pleased to feel that his heart is once again thumping steadily. unwavering. what an odd feeling it was, to have his strong heart skip a beat.

i'll deal with that later. he thinks, not at all wanting to open that can of worms.

so, he takes another swig from the bottle and uses one of his large hands to pat you on the back as you continued to cough up sake.

“oi, don’t waste good booze.”

sanji

the cook wasn't used to being spoiled. he's always been a giver, someone who provides and never takes.

he basked in the smiles that formed on the faces of his crew mates, his family, whenever he made them a good meal or protected them. he never asks for anything in return. however, that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be shown appreciation every now and then.

currently, he's on night watch.

a thick blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, the cold wind nipping at his cheeks and painting them a reddish color. a cigarette hangs from his lips, his breaths coming out as white puffs against the dark sky.

out of the corner of his eye, he can see light pouring out from the kitchen window. how long has that been on? his brows furrow in suspicion as he makes his way over, half-expecting to see luffy attempting to crack open the pantry.

yet when he opens the door, his posture immediately relaxes and he practically melts as he sees you. you're in your pajamas, hunched over the stove with a focused expression. he takes note of the cookbook laid out on the counter, guiding you as you prepared a dish.

he calls your name, his limbs turning to mush as he approached you. "what are you doing here so late? if you're hungry, i'll make you some-"

his nose twitches as he catches the scent of what you're making.

he knows it well because it happens to be one of his favorite dishes. coincidentally, it was one of your least favorites, the scent of it rather unbearable to you.

"you're... you're making..." his cigarette threatens to tumble out of his lips as he gives you a bewildered expression.

he can see your nose briefly scrunch up before you give him a smile, one of your hands holding a wooden spoon and mixing up ingredients on a pan. "yeah. i hope i'm making it right. i mean, it won't be as good as yours anyway, but still."

"mon amour, you shouldn't. i know how much you can't stand the smell of it." he tries to usher you away, placing a hand on yours and insisting that he didn't want you to be queasy. "why're you making this, mon amour? did someone ask you to?"

you shrug and keep a firm hold on the wooden spoon, replying like the answer was obvious. "because i thought it'd make you happy."

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his cigarette does fall to the floor. the hand that's over yours tightens, perhaps his way of grounding himself. he's speechless for a moment, something shaking him down to his very center.

he could almost cry.

"sanji?" you ask, a little concerned for the chef as his eyes seemed to glaze over.

the blond snaps out of it, giving you a smile that's so warm it makes you wonder if the sun had just come up. there's none of that surface level attraction or lust in his gaze, only an authentic appreciation.

thank you. he thinks, feeling light. thank you for caring.

his eyes close as he once again takes in the scent of the dish you're preparing. "it smells great, mon amour. better than anything i've ever made, i’m sure of it."

"i doubt that." you laugh, downplaying his compliment. with a nod, you resume cooking. "it'll be finished by the time you're done with your watch. i can handle it."

sanji thanks you once more, his heart feeling full. returning to his post, he allows you to do something kind for him. he allows himself to take, without worrying about having to repay you.

he quells any lingering thoughts of insecurity and self-doubt, focusing instead on the meal that's sure to be waiting for him in the morning.

law

it was a couple weeks ago that law made the decision to educate the crew a bit more on medical practices.

the surgeon knew that he couldn’t always be around to provide assistance to the crew, so it was only logical that he trained everyone in basic first aid, including you. day after day, he trained everyone, one at a time.

was it a lot? yes. however, law liked to be prepared and felt comfort in being thorough with his teachings, regardless of how tedious it was.

so, finally it was your day to be trained under his watchful eye.

you could tell how passionate he was about his work, how knowledgeable. if you had any questions or wanted to know more about a topic, he took the time to explain it to you properly.

he was quite patient, something you were thankful for since you knew he could sometimes grow frustrated.

when it's all said and done, he quizzes you. he sits atop the exam table, his expression apathetic.

"i'm a patient suffering from shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness." he flatly says, watching your every move. "what comes to mind? what do you check first?"

you bite at your lip, your head scrambling to come up with any ideas of what your 'patient' could be suffering from. "arrhythmia?" you answer, uncertain. he gives you a pressing look, urging you to continue. "and i... check your heartbeat?"

"good." with a nod of his head, he gestures towards the stethoscope. "go ahead, then. check it and let's see if you get the reading right."

pushing past your initial hesitance, you grab the stethoscope and put it on, gently holding the bell in your hand. placing it on his clothed chest, your expression turns frustrated as you struggle to hear a beat.

he rolls his eyes and calls your name lightly. "you can't place it over fabric. it needs to go directly on the skin."

oh yeah, you needed to place it directly on his chest.

you click your tongue, embarrassed by your slight error. "yeah, yeah, i got it."

with that, your hand slips under the hem of his shirt.

however, instead of holding up his shirt and and placing the stethoscope directly over his heart, your hand slides upward from his abdomen and all the way to his chest.

your fingers inadvertently graze along his skin, tracing a warm path from his navel to his heart.

you're too focused on your task to notice his widening eyes and how his breath hitches.

a content smile forms on your face when you catch the sound of his heartbeat.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

you look up at him, slightly concerned. “i think there's something weird-"

"you're hearing things." he's quick to say, placing a hand over yours and promptly removing it from his person. standing from the exam table, he adjusts his shirt and takes a step back to put some much needed distance between the two of you. "good job today, you did well."

he turns in the opposite direction, not wanting to let his cracked composure show. steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes off any residual feelings of unease.

it was just a fluke. he's quick to think, wanting to be rational.

in the end, he looks over his shoulder and gives you a nod before heading to his study.

[letsbangts]

thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: when you express your appreciation for the man you married

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

↬ a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you. 

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to. 

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with. I did it in one day.

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too) attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: You okay there, Clumsy?

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: Yeah, I'm okay. That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something loveable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him) amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to very blatant obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with him for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity (and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

He always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with him from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, which shows how much of a gentleman he is. From always opening doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into the bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there. 

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something he may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect but tells me it is only a little bit of writer's block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?

Or

So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random just-cause trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man that comes out from the minimart or gas station and says: Hold out your hand. And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books: Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

[suksatoru]

001. CARNATIONS.

Touya did not like to be touched.

That was one of the first things you learned from your colleagues' mistakes. You were now the seventh doctor to try and understand the layers of the former villain known as Dabi.

The news outlets had failed miserably in catching the alluring hues of his cerulean gaze. That was the first thing you concluded when you first met him.

As his psychiatrist, your job was simple. To understand Touya’s emotional trauma and help him live the rest of his life to the fullest. He was an absolute wreck. That was all anyone would call him—a mess who didn't deserve a second chance at life. Yet here he was.

His family had more than enough money to put him into a good institution, one where he could possibly recover from the terrible life he once led. It's quiet. The hospital's sterile environment is both making his skin crawl and oddly comforting. The gentle hum of the machines hooked up to his body and the bandages wrapped around every inch of skin did nothing to lessen the unease he felt when he heard the familiar telltale sign of a new doctor coming into his room.

The door rattled quietly, the sound of keys clinking together on the other side doesn't even stir him anymore. He hears slow footsteps entering through the hallway, your voice following them as you call out his name questioningly to confirm you're in the right room.

The way you say his name so softly sounds like you're calling out to an angel, and Touya wants to tear the words from your throat the moment he hears them.

He doesn't respond. When you approach him, he's staring at the wall in front of him.

He's sitting up, eyes barely open after it being only an hour out of one of many surgeries he would have to go through. He lays limp and utterly powerless in this stupid hospital bed—one of the strongest villains in the world was reduced to this now. Touya wonders if he's ever felt more pathetic, and no—he has never felt quite this low before.

"I'm Y/n, Touya."

You're smiling. That's the first thing he notices when his eyes finally move to where you sat on the stool beside his bed. All the doctors before you were the same, mildly disgusted but putting up a front nonetheless to try and deal with him. He thinks you're a little insane for looking at him with such a tender look in your eyes—and if he had the strength, he would tell you to leave.

"I'm your new doctor, Touya. I know you've gone through quite a few before me, but I hope you and I are able to get along!"

You shift in your seat with a nervous smile when he just stares. His half lidded eyes don't even bother to look anywhere else as he slowly takes in every detail of your face. Half of your hair is pulled back to reveal soft and full cheeks—your eyes crinkle as you lean forward with a soft smile.

"Unfortunately, you're kind of stuck with me. You've gone through the entire rotation of the best psychiatrists we have here—but that's ok! I understand you've been through a lot, so you and I are going to take this journey together, ok?"

Touya wants to cry. He wants to rip his hair out and slice his throat open because everything hurts and on top of all this misery, he has a pounding headache. He musters up the strength to talk. His voice is hoarse from not speaking for weeks, raspy with an undertone of something so terribly mean that you can't help but lean back in your seat with wide eyes when the words leave his scarred lips.

"Get out."

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; anddd our journey begins! :)

[ma1dita]

can i get one ticket for here for the boos!! starring luke castellan with a pretzel! and maybe a lil spice on that pretzel :O also, i love your fics so much i always re-read them because of how good they are <333

devil inside

[STARRING: LUKE CASTELLAN x reader ; “Don’t. Move.”]  wc: 1k  warnings: written with aphrodite reader in mind, but not officially stated; anon asked for lil spice so this came out veeeerrryyy suggestive? MDNI for non-descriptive fondling/fingering. yandere!luke. i say the word cum once—do what y’all will with that. implied minor character death, mentions of blood, alcohol, manipulation; title from inxs song, i’m tryna keep the titles spooky hehe. oh and i hit 2k followers while writing this last night! thank you thank youuu

monster mash-terlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Luke Castellan has always been your protector and best friend. 

A two-in-one deal that you couldn’t help but thank the gods for every time you throw your offerings into the hearth at mealtimes. He always has your best interest in mind, is always devoted to taking care of you, and puts you first over anyone—so who else would you depend on to walk you home from a beach party?

Bad things happen around here at Camp Half-Blood, especially after dark, if we’re being honest. It would only be sufficient to have camp’s best hero be your escort back to your cabin. You’re giggling like a fool as Luke half-carries you through the dirt pathway toward home, purple slippers tucked in his back pocket and his thumb grazing the sliver of skin that peeks out above your daisy dukes. 

It would be wrong of him to leave you like this. Truly, what type of best friend would he be if he did? He knows you have admirers—you’re beautiful, for one. And it’s in your nature to be desired by all, though he supposes even without your blood being mixed with ichor that everyone would still look at you the way they do. And it angers him more than it should, a slow bubbling in his stomach that boils through to the surface whenever anyone leers at you or ogles your form as something they hope to have, or worse—conquer. Vincent from Cabin 4 was bold enough to try, growing flowers at will and weaving them into your hair, touching you and decorating you—making it known to the others that he got close enough to something sacred. By the time Luke got to the party tonight, the son of Demeter had a smile that would make anyone think he’d won the lotto.

Well, Vincent won’t make that mistake again. Luke made sure of it.

Tonight alone was evidence enough that no one takes what belongs to him. But Luke has more pressing problems at hand as he leads you further away from the crowd, like how you keep pressing your soft hands into the growing bulge of his cargo shorts, a sly grin illuminating your face and a simple, “Oopsie!” each time you do it. The both of you know what you’re blatantly hinting at after the third pass, and he’d be an idiot to ignore the way your arms wrap around his neck, knees buckling as you beg him to divert your journey towards the lake—whichever way that may be; you’re drunk off cheap vodka and he’s drunk off the smell of sweat and salt on your skin.

You feel like you’re flying, squealing like Luke’s tickling you as he carries you in his arms. There’s something in him that loves the way you pretend to resist, like how prey fall limp in a predator’s hold just in case they might lose interest—but how could he? You’re mouthing at his collarbone, tongue tracing out the letters of your name and your body pliant under his grasp. His skin is impermanently marked where no one can see, yet he’s yours either way, especially when you tease him like this, cooing,  “Luke, come onnnn….”

“Shhh…silly girl, they’ll hear you.”

The boy is grinning and has his hands wrapped under your armpits; in your drunken haze, you think it might be the wind or his long fingers caressing the underwire of your bra as he sets you down against him, back to his chest and legs dipping in the warm waters of Canoe Lake. You lean into him nonetheless, pulling your best friend in with a cute pout until he’s putty in your hands. He’d do anything for you. And right now, you’re hyperaware of that.

“Stop…don’t move,” he breathes, eyes fluttering as you wiggle against his lap and wrap his arms tighter around you, engulfing your frame from any stragglers that might be heading back from the bonfire. But Luke made sure you’d be alone tonight, your cheek against his as you both observe how the moon reflects the water. Your face is warm against his and he feels the imprint of your smile taking form by how it feels against his jaw, “M’just playing Lu. You know that, right?”

Clenching his jaw he smiles stiffly at you, and he silently thanks the gods you’re too drunk to notice his disappointment. He knows you love this—reveling in any attention you give him, drunk kisses in the moonlight and wandering hands doing very unfriendly things that he wishes you’d actually want to talk to him about in the morning. But when you’re not with him, your attention is elsewhere—preening over being treated like the ultimate prize. He was just easy access for you. And you still won’t think it means anything.

So as a typical son of Hermes, he takes matters into his own hands, literally taking you, even if you’re not his. It’s all the same to him, really, and you’re the one pushing his palms into the cotton cups of your bra. You’re using him because he’s there, and whatever this is will have to do for now.

“Gotta stay quiet f’me…stay still, okay?”

Luke unzips your shorts, tracing slow circles into your sodden underwear as you bite down on your bottom lip and look at him all needy. It almost looks like desire, but he wants you to mean it. He needs to make sure you’re devoted to him too—not just when you spread your legs and moan his name into the quiet of the night.

Being desired might be your domain, but deception is his. By morning, they’ll find Vincent's body floating in the very lake that your legs are writhing in. While you’re busy with the feeling of his fingers delving in and out of your warmth, he plans on how to get you to cum hard enough so that your eyes stay closed and ignore the smaller details, like the smell of blood on the rocks, and the Demeter boy’s flowers he’s been plucking out of your hair since you started your rendezvous—drifting back towards the still-warm body of their owner.

You’ll see how much you mean to him. He’s made sure of it.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ma1dita's monster mash is open for requests until 10/12 :)

[goldsainz]

# CS55 — FAREWELL, ROSSO CORSA !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ carlos’ journey at ferrari has come to an end, you’re not sure you’re ready to deal with the aftermath.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ ferrar!engineer!reader, angst, bittersweet ending.

003. NOTE !

✯ i listened to long live (taylor’s version) on repeat. also i’ve been dreading this moment, i wish i could explain better how bittersweet it feels. i know he will do great things, i just wish they could still be with ferrari. anywho, i am happy for lewis too, just let me mourn in peace. (also i couldn’t be asked to listen to the radios of the races so just bear with me).

word count : 2,3k

The Abu Dhabi night was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that settles after the end of something momentous. The paddock, which had been alive with cheers and fireworks just hours ago, was now dim and hushed. The last race of the season had ended, and with it, Carlos Sainz’s chapter at Ferrari.

You stood in the garage, the familiar hum of machinery winding down as the team dismantled the cars and packed away the remnants of a long season. The Ferrari red that had been your world for years felt heavier tonight, more poignant. 

Carlos leaned against a workbench nearby, his race suit tied loosely around his waist, his hair still damp from the champagne. He looked at you, a quiet kind of sadness in his eyes. The moment you had both avoided all week loomed large now, inevitable in the space between you.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Carlos said softly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, your chest tightening at the sight of the sadness in his dark eyes. “And miss this? No chance.”

He chuckled, but it was humorless. “This doesn’t feel like a night worth staying for.”

“It is,” you insisted, stepping closer. “It’s the end of something big. That deserves a goodbye.”

Carlos swallowed, nodding slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing. “It’s strange,” he admitted, his Spanish accent heavier with emotion. “You dream of wearing this red suit as a kid, and when you finally do… it becomes your identity. Leaving feels like losing a part of myself.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his forearm. “You’re not losing anything, Carlos. You’re taking it with you—every moment, every lesson, every triumph. It will always be a part of you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his brows knitting together as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. “And you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Will you be a part of me too?”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. You’d been an engineer first, a loyal member of the Scuderia, but somewhere along the way, Carlos had become more than a driver to you. He had become a friend, a confidant, and—if you were brave enough to admit it—someone who held your heart.

“Always,” you said, the word escaping you before you could second-guess it. “You think I’ll stop yelling at you over the radio just because you’re on a different team?”

Carlos laughed, the sound warm and genuine, a reprieve from the melancholic undertone of the night. “I’d miss it if you did,” he replied, his hand covering yours.

The silence that followed was softer, less heavy, as if the shared weight of your memories had settled between you like a quiet truce.

And oh, there were so many memories.

Bahrain, 2021

The first race of the season, and Carlos’s first with Ferrari. The garage buzzed with nervous energy, the scent of burnt rubber and engine oil filling the air.

He had been confident, his signature smirk in place as he suited up, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. It was his debut for the Scuderia, a dream realized, and the pressure was immense.

“Relax,” you had told him. “It’s just another race. You know how to do this.”

Carlos had smiled at you, his eyes soft with gratitude. “It’s not just another race. It’s Ferrari.”

When the lights went out, the race unfolded like a storm. Carlos fought relentlessly, slicing through the midfield with calculated aggression. The radio crackled with updates, his determination palpable in every breathless “copy” that followed your instructions. His P8 finish may not have been headline-grabbing, but it felt monumental—proof that he belonged.

Back in the garage, his grin was wide as he found you amidst the chaos. “Not bad for the new guy, huh?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with pride and relief.

You shook your head, unable to suppress your smile. “Not bad at all,” you replied. The way his eyes softened, gratitude bleeding through the teasing, made you realize how much this moment meant—not just to him, but to you as well.

Silverstone, 2022

The radio crackled with your voice, barely containing your excitement. “P1, Carlos! P1! You did it!”

The cheers in the garage erupted as Carlos crossed the finish line. His first win with Ferrari. Your first win with him. It had been a chaotic race—strategy calls that could have gone wrong, moments of doubt as Perez loomed behind him. But Carlos had held on.

When he stepped out of the car, his face was radiant, a mix of disbelief and triumph. The crowd roared as he lifted the trophy, his grin infectious. Later, with the champagne haze lifting, he approached you with a glass in hand, his grin now softer, more reflective.

“We did this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Not just me. Us.”

You had laughed, your heart swelling with pride. “I just yelled in your ear. You did the hard part.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

And for the first time, amidst the noise and celebration, there was a quiet understanding between you—a closeness that went beyond the driver-engineer dynamic.

Singapore, 2023

It had been a flawless drive. Under the dazzling lights of Marina Bay, Carlos broke Red Bull’s streak, taking the win in one of the most challenging races of the year.

The garage had been electric with energy, the team shouting and cheering as he crossed the line. You couldn’t contain your grin as the radio crackled with his voice, elated and disbelieving. “We did it! Holy—thank you, team. Thank you!”

Later, in the cool night air, he had found you standing by the pit wall, gazing out at the now-quiet track.

“Celebrating alone?” he teased, stepping beside you.

“Just soaking it in,” you replied, turning to him. “That was… incredible.”

Carlos had leaned against the wall, his smile soft. “You’re the one who believed we could do it.”

“I always believe in you,” you said simply, and the way he looked at you then as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world, and it left your heart racing.

Australia, 2024

Carlos had insisted on racing, appendix surgery be damned. He was stubborn, determined, and entirely unwilling to sit on the sidelines.

“You’re insane,” you had told him in the days leading up to the race, your voice filled with equal parts frustration and admiration.

He had shrugged, his smile cheeky. “Maybe. But I’m not missing this.”

Carlos’s win in Melbourne was nothing short of miraculous. Just weeks after undergoing an emergency appendectomy, he returned to the grid, defying every expectation.

In the parc fermé, you rushed to him, barely holding back tears when he emerged from the car, sweat-soaked and visibly drained. You rushed to him, your relief spilling over in a trembling voice. “You just had surgery, Carlos!”

He laughed, though it was strained. “I told you I’d be fine.”

THat night, as the team celebrated, Carlos sat beside you, exhaustion evident in his features. “I couldn’t let you down,” he said simply.

“You never could,” you replied, your heart swelling with pride.

Baku, 2024

The crash had been brutal.  Carlos crashed into the wall at high speed, and your heart stopped when the screens showed the wreckage. You barely breathed until you heard his voice over the radio, shaky but alive.

“I’m okay… Sorry, guys.”

When you found him in the medical center, sitting on the examination table, bruises blossoming on his arms. “You should see the other guy,” he’d joked weakly, but the exhaustion in his eyes betrayed him.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you’d said, your voice trembling.

Carlos had reached for your hand then, his grip surprisingly firm. “I’m okay,” he’d said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I promise.”

But later, long after the debriefs were done and the lights in the paddock dimmed, he found you sitting by his car, running your hands over the damaged bodywork. He sat down beside you, the silence heavy between you.

“You care too much,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone.

You looked at him, your chest tightening. “Someone has to.”

He didn’t respond, but the way he leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, said everything he couldn’t.

The weight of the memories settled between you like the remnants of a storm. Carlos let out a soft sigh, dragging his hand through his hair as he leaned against the workbench, his eyes fixed on the car that had carried him through countless battles.

“I knew this would be hard,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, but still too far for the ache you felt. “Because it’s not just the car or the team,” you said gently. “It’s everything. Every moment that made this place more than just work. Every person who made it feel like home.”

Carlos’s gaze shifted to you, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much to bear. “You made it feel like home,” he said, the words tumbling out as though he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Your breath caught, the honesty in his voice cutting through the layers of professionalism you’d both worn like armor for years. The memories, the laughter, the quiet moments shared in the garage or on long flights to the next race—they all rushed back, forming a mosaic of the bond you had built.

“Do you remember Las Vegas?” he asked suddenly, his lips curving into a faint smile.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. “How could I forget? The strategy went out the window, and you decided to play hero.”

Carlos grinned, the expression lighting up his face despite the sadness that lingered in his eyes. “We still got P3, didn’t we?”

“Because you ignored me on the radio and took that insane risk,” you shot back, though there was no malice in your tone. “I yelled at you for fifteen minutes straight after the race.”

“And then you brought me a coffee the next morning,” he countered, his grin softening into something more tender. “Said I’d need it if I was going to keep making you crazy.”

“I didn’t say I forgave you,” you teased, though your voice betrayed the fondness you felt.

He shook his head, his laughter fading into a comfortable silence. He looked back at the car, his expression thoughtful. “It’s funny,” he said after a moment. “The races, the wins, the crashes… they all sort of blur together… But moments like that? I’ll remember them forever.”

The words settled between you, heavy with meaning. You wanted to tell him that you felt the same, that the moments you shared with him—both big and small—had become a part of you in a way you couldn’t put into words. But the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak.

Carlos turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “What about you?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady. “When I’m gone, will you remember me?”

“Carlos,” you said, the weight of his question making your voice tremble. “You’re unforgettable.”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a small, bittersweet smile. “You say that now,” he said softly. “But life moves on. New drivers, new challenges. It’s easy to forget.”

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing directly in front of him. “Not you,” you said firmly. “Not the way you made us believe, the way you made me believe. That’s not something you forget.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You always believed in me,” he murmured. “Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

“I still do,” you said, your voice breaking slightly.

Carlos reached out, his hand brushing against yours before curling around it. His grip was warm, steady, and so achingly familiar that it brought tears to your eyes.

“I wish I could stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I wish you could too,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet stillness of the garage. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a small, tender gesture that spoke volumes.

“I don’t really know what’s next,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “But I know one thing.”

“What’s that?” you asked, your own voice trembling.

“I’ll carry you with me,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “Wherever I go.”

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his words leaving you speechless. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he understood everything you couldn’t say.

Carlos smiled then, a small, bittersweet curve of his lips. “Goodbye, mi ingeniera,” he said softly, the nickname laced with affection and finality.

“Goodbye, Carlitos,” you whispered, your heart breaking even as you smiled through the tears.

As he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the paddock, you stood there, the hum of the empty garage your only companion. And though your time together had come to an end, you knew that the memories—the wins, the losses, the moments that had defined your journey—would stay with you, etched into your heart like a scarlet flame.

Carlos Sainz had left Ferrari, but he would never truly leave you.

[ambrosiagourmet]

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

[kykyonthemoon]

Comforting

When he comforts a reader who is so stressed and upset that she bursts into tears.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader (MC)

Included parts in order: Sylus, Caleb

This is the second part of the same prompt, for the two said characters, after my first one - "Soothing" for Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne.

── .✦ Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, comfort, long-distance relationship (Caleb's)

── .✦ Word count: 1k3

── .✦ Requested by Lightbook Aki

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

Sylus

"Let's go." Sylus tossed you the key to one of the two motorcycles parking in front of the flat. You were puzzled:

“To where?”

“Anywhere you want. Just ride.”

After he finished speaking, he started his motorcycle. Its scream seemed like both an invitation and an urging to you. 

You put on the helmet. Even though you constantly mentioned that you wished to ride about the city with him at night, Sylus's arrival at your door so late at night seemed odd. Particularly since you were in such a bad mood. And was it Luke and Kieran that you had just seen earlier nearby?

The motorbike that Sylus chose for you was a bit smaller than his, and matched your physique well. You did not object anymore. And so your night out began. 

A cool night wind blew. You kept on riding, not knowing where you were heading. Sylus rode safely away from you while keeping you in sight. He would sometimes approach you, as if to remind you that he had always been by your side on this journey.

Away from the noise of the city, you chose to stop on a hill on the outskirts. Sylus pulled up behind you when you got off the motorcycle and removed your helmet.

Nobody uttered a thing. Sylus waited close, watching you go around, your feet stepping on the dirt and rocks below in discomfort. After a while, when he realized he had no way of keeping you like that, Sylus approached you and gently seized your elbow, drawing you back to look at him.

"If the ride wasn't so enjoyable, we can go further."

"No... I just..." You halted because you were unsure if you should tell him or not. Was it appropriate to share such private emotions given that the two of you had just recently met?

"How do you know that I need a change of scenery? Was it Mephisto again?"

Sylus grinned. His index finger curled, and he swiped it over your nose. "Your thoughts are all reflected on your face like that. You haven't left your flat in days. Even without Mephisto, I suspect that something is wrong with you. Say it out. I am here to listen to you."

You took a brief glance at Sylus. The wind blew, ruffling the curls of hair on his forehead. You paused for a moment before telling him about how you ended up ending someone's life before they turned completely into a Wanderer on the last mission. That tormented you to no end.

When you finished the story, Sylus said: "You did what needed to be done. It wasn't your fault." He gently inclined his chin towards the gracefully illuminated city of Linkon on the horizon and continued, "This place is calm, thanks to you. You did very well."

That alone was enough to make you cry. You attempted to fight back your burning tears, but just as you were going to wipe them away and turn everywhere, Sylus grasped your hand tightly. His other hand caressed your cheek in a tender gesture, but did not wipe away your tears. He told you:

"Just let it all out."

And so you wept. You failed to recall the last time you ever sobbed like this. You had always believed that you were capable and powerful enough to battle Wanderers and defend others. But, in the end, you sought someone to tell you that you did the right thing by eliminating a soul's suffering, or that you did not have to bear it all on your own.

Sylus, resting on his motorcycle, softly raised your hand. His lips almost brushed it as he muttered, "Sometimes we have no option. Sometimes we have to deal with worse things than Wanderers. You just need to choose what is most important to you and do your best to protect it..."

Sylus halted and softly stroked your hand. His crimson eyes fixed on you, giving you an odd sense of reliability.

"Just like what I'm doing right now, protecting the most important person who is right in front of me."

Caleb

With a pleasant box of ice cream in hand, you sat on the porch of a closed business. It was dark, yet you refused to go home. You had been strolling the streets of Linkon all evening.

You did not have dinner yet. Both eyes were swollen. Your hair was a disaster. Everyone knew you had a rough day based on your look, and it was best for them to stay away from you. You searched for the phone in your coat pocket. A name displayed on the screen; it was Caleb's account.

But you sighed and put your phone away. These insignificant concerns were not worth his attention. You could manage it entirely on your own. You hoped that the next day, despite your current situation, you would return to your cheerful, active self. 

Opening the ice cream box, you began eating little spoonfuls. If Caleb was here, would it not be great? You would tell you about how you were bullied at work, unfairly accused, and how people turned their backs on you without knowing the whole story. But in the end, nothing was important anymore. Everything you could do to salvage the situation had been done. What you needed at that moment was a little consolation from someone, but that person was a long way from here.

You had learnt to handle challenges on your own when Caleb enrolled at the Academy in Skyhaven. You had always proven that you were mature and responsible enough not to disturb him. When you started this long-distance relationship, you knew he could not always come racing to you when you needed him, and there would be moments when you were entirely alone like this.

The ice cream box was about half-empty. The lightly inhabited street became even quieter. Perhaps you should go home. Still, tears went on falling. As the world faded away in weeping, you noticed that person's silhouette growing more and more apparent. Then a large hand rested on your head.

"You're all grown up, yet you're sobbing while eating ice cream here. Aren't you worried that others will laugh at you, pip-squeak?"

That voice belonged to Caleb. You rubbed your eyes. He instantly squatted in front of you, his mouth beaming and his hand aiding you in wiping away the tears.

"Caleb?"

He replied, "I'm here. Tell me. Who bullied my pipsqueak?"

You sniffled. Seeing him like that was a genuinely unexpected blessing. Of course, your spirit was also much lifted. You said:

"Who would dare to bully me? I just... wanted to eat ice cream. But how did you find me?"

"I received a call from Tara. She updated me on what occurred at work and then mentioned she could no longer contact you. She was concerned about something happening to you and asked me to reach out to you."

"Then… why did you come here instead of giving me a call?"

Caleb lightly squeezed your cheek. "If I called, you'd act as if nothing happened, right? You always go here for a box of ice cream when you're feeling low. That habit has not changed."

You had to confess that Caleb knew you too well. When you were depressed and didn't want to do anything else, he went out and bought you a box of ice cream from this store. He also said that as long as you had it, you would become happier. Since then, the ice cream here had served as your spiritual comfort whenever you started to feel down.

Caleb closed the ice cream box and held it in his free hand. He stood up and extended another hand towards you, saying: 

"Let's go home."

You felt instantly at ease. When Caleb helped you up, you grabbed his hand and leaped into his arms, hugging him by the neck hard. Perhaps as long as you had him, it did not matter anymore if the entire world turned against you.

Banner photos from Ghibli and screenshots by LittleBunnyCC

[yoonia]

© Yoonia, 2016-2025. All rights reserved. — Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited | if you are under 18, please refrain from entering the restricted sections

key: angst ✵ | fluff ✿ | smut ♡  series: ongoing ✎ | hiatus ☽ | completed ✓

⇝— updated: Jan 10th, 2025 ⇝— fic archive 2016-2019 .｡.✰ ⇝— work in progress & writing schedule .｡.✰

𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✩·.¸

About Time (Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au) | Jungkook x reader x Jimin (feat. ot7) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✎ ➛ Summary | Be careful of what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true.     ↪ Chapter masterlist

The Bedroom Hymns (a Bluebeard tale's twist; fairytale retelling au, fairy prince!yoongi, princess!reader, soulmate!au) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✎ ➛ Summary | Haunted by the questions about your father’s past and the dark tales that seem to follow him, the thousand mysterious doors and the secrets waiting for you to reveal, and the mysterious Prince that has been following your shadows between realms, you are off to a new adventure in the Land Far Far Away.    ↪ Chapter masterlist

Blood Moon Rising (Supernatural!au, Vampire!au, Werewolves!au) | Jimin x reader (feat. ot7) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✎ ➛ Summary | What happens when the only people you have put your trust in only repay you with betrayal?     ↪ The Shifters Series masterpost

Carousel (Arranged Marriage!au, CEO!au, Heirs!au) | Min Yoongi x reader (feat. ot7) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ ➛ Summary | He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family's future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out.     ↪ Chapter masterlist

In Motion (Masturbation Club!au) | Jungkook x reader | ✿ ♡ ✓ ➛ Summary | The rule is simple; you can look but you can’t touch.     ↪ Chapter masterlist

𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢-𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ✩·.¸ 

Flux (Min Yoongi x reader x Jeon Jungkook) | Polyamorous!au | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✎ ➛ Premise | A collection of short stories about the journey of finding and learning about love, life, and trust.     ↪ Chapters masterlist

Red Series (Min Yoongi) | Secrets of Pleasure | ✿ ♡ ✎ ➛ Premise | A collection of short stories between Yoongi and his lover (reader insert) which will tell a tale of their sexual adventures together.    ↪ Chapters masterlist

𝐨𝐭𝟕 & 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 ☽.·✩·.¸

Slow Dancing (M) - Jungkook x reader; Namjoon x reader | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ mini-series; soulmate!au, second chances!au ⇢ When fate has some tricks hidden in its sleeve      ↪ Chapter List 

28 Days (M) - Taehyung x reader; Jungkook x reader | ✵ ✿ ♡ ☽ mini-series; slice of life!au; unrequited love!au; first love!au ⇢ When you let yourself get entangled in your own little lies    ↪ chapters: (under construction)

Ravished By Two (M) - Seokjin x reader x Namjoon | ✿ ♡ one-shot; werewolves!au; polyamorous!au | 5k words ⇢ Mated to your Alphas mean that you have to submit to their every need

Threads (M) - Yoongi x reader; Namjoon x reader | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; slice of life!au; one-sided love!au; arranged relationship!au; 7k words ⇢ When life throws you a curve ball, leaving you with dark secrets to bury

The Agile Fox (M) - Yoongi x original character x Jungkook | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; supernatural!au, werewolf!jungkook, werefox!yoongi, werefox!oc | 52k words; part of Shifter Series ⇢ Sometimes the Fates can play tricks on you

Bed & Boyfriend(s) (M) - Taehyung x reader x Yoongi x Jungkook | ✿ ♡ one-shot; pwp; Polyamorous!au; 16k words ⇢ A long weekend filled with wanton pleasure with the help of his best friends

Sweet Temptations (M) - Taehyung x reader x Jungkook | ♡ one-shot; brothel!au; male escort!au; 20k words ⇢ Welcome to House Of Lust, where your escorts will be there to provide you with every need

Ever a Never After - Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader | ✿ ♡ adaptation from Enchanted movie; strangers to lovers!au; fairy tale retelling!au, Smut ⇢ Stuck between two different realms, two different lives, and a chance to write your own happily ever after, would you take it?

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧 ☽.·✩·.¸

Cinnamon Bliss (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ mini-series; single father!Jin, cafe owner!reader, unrequited love!au ⇢ When you share the journey of finding the path to healing and re-finding love again     ↪ Chapter List 

Of Bears And Bonds (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ trilogy/mini-series; supernatural!au, werebear!Jin, witch!reader | part of Shifter Series ⇢ When you find your past, present, and future are all linked together with your fated ↪ chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 (end) ↪ bonus: the journey begins

Blurred Lines (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ trilogy/mini-series; teacher!Jin, teacher!reader, biker!Jin ⇢ People do say that the quiet ones always keep the biggest secret ↪ chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 (end)

Mistakes and Retakes (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; christmas rom-com; enemy to lovers!au; Part of the Stranded for Christmas Collab; 18,5k words ⇢ When your archenemy becomes your saviour

𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢 ☽.·✩·.¸

Clair De Lune (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; pianist!yoongi, escort!reader; 23k words ⇢ You were ready to leave a part of your life to move on to the next, and he is willing to give you a chance to end it glamorously

Pour Some Sugar On Me (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; enemies to lovers!au; baker!au; baker!yoongi; baker!reader; 14k words ⇢ When he shows you how baking and taste testing can be delightfully messy

Little Do You Know (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; artist/music producer!yoongi; established relationship!au; 22k words ⇢ With love, comes challenge. But what do you have to do to hold on? 

Bad Things (M) | ✵ ♡ one-shot; brothel!au; street fighter!yoongi; sex worker/escort!reader; past lovers!au; 14k words ⇢ He always comes to you when he needs you to douse his flame, not knowing that he is keeping yours alight with his touch

Come Undone (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; established relationship!au, BDSM; 14k words ⇢ When your little surprise to please him backfires and he turns the tide against you instead

Two Steps Behind (or Ahead?) (M) | ✵ ♡ one-shot; friends with benefit!au, modern royal!au, modern fantasy!au; The Bedroom Hymns: alternate version; 2k words⇢ He refuse to give up showing you what being soulmates really mean

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 ☽.·✩·.¸

✎ 𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝘂𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘆 01. Intertwine (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; slice of life!au; past lovers!au, office!au; infidelity; 12k words 02. Tidal Waves (M)| ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; slice of life!au; past lovers!au, office!au; infidelity

✎ 𝗦𝗽𝗼𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘆 01. Spotless Minds (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; past lovers!au; new beginning; inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Minds; 36k words 02. Eternal Sunshine (M) | ✷ ✿ ♡ one-shot; past lovers!au; new beginning; epilogue for Spotless Minds; 39k words 03. Sunset Glow (coming soon)

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧 ☽.·✩·.¸

The Stand-In (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot & drabble series; friends to lovers!au, post divorce/failed marriage!au; expecting parents!au; 13k words ⇢ He is ready to help with your situation in more ways than one      ↪ Fic Index

Once Upon An Us (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; past lovers!au, exes to lovers!au, christmas rom-com; 47k words ⇢ When the fairy tale ending that you had been searching for had always been there the entire time

Lust Royale (M) | ✵ ♡ one-shot; royal guard!namjoon, princess!reader, unrequited love!au; 8k words ⇢ When you cannot resist falling into his temptation

The (im)Perfect Ending (M) | ✵ ♡ one-shot; past relationship!au, infidelity; 43k words ⇢ When you are given a second chance to rewrite your own happy ending ↪ bonus: Our Imperfections

Blooming Wallflowers (M) | ✵ ♡ one-shot; strangers to lovers!au, firefighter!namjoon, older female leader, MILF!au; 20k words ⇢ When the one who spends his entire life taming fire ends up becoming the one to light up the fire in you ↪ bonus: Dinner with Mista Joonie (M)

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧 ☽.·✩·.¸

Strip! (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ trilogy/mini-series; stripper!jimin, bartender!reader; single parent!au; spin-off for Bad For You⇢ Sometimes a little bit of fun brings colours to your hard life, but what if he is here to stay?      ↪ chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 (End)

All Fervent Manner (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; established Relationship!au; 19k words ⇢ When you share the same secret, and neither of you could let the other know what you need the most

✎ 𝗙𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘆 01. Never Falling (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; enemies to lovers!au; singer!jimin; non-idol!au; assistant!reader; 21k words 02. Forever Falling (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; established relationship!au; singer!Jimin; non-idol!au; 30k words 03. Free Falling (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; established relationship!au; singer!Jimin; non-idol!au; 22k words

Nefarious (M) | ♡ one-shot; Sex Club!au, Club host/escort!Jimin; 39k words; side story for In Motion ⇢ Welcome to Club La Rouge, where your sexual fantasies come to life

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 ☽.·✩·.¸

White Lies (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ mini-series; childhood friends to lovers!au, first love!au, painter!taehyung ⇢ When his secrets came in your way to bare threats in the future you were building together     ↪ Chapter List

The Half-Lycan (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot & drabble series; supernatural!au; werewolf!taehyung, human!reader; 42k words; part of Shifter Series ⇢ The long journey of how the fated mates finally found each other     ↪ drabbles: Fever // Rapture

The Forsaken (M) | ✵ ♡ one-shot; supernatural!au; siren!taehyung; mystery; horror; 22k words ⇢ When his seducing voice lures you into falling in his embrace

The Dark Room (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; sex club!au; gentlemen club!au; 19k words; Side Story for In Motion ⇢ Welcome to Club La Rouge, where your sexual fantasies come to life

A Christmas Fix (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ two-shot; Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au; 55k words; Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration ⇢ The one-night stand that changed the course of your fate, along with your stepsister's ↪ chapters: 01 | 02 (final)

Risque Business (M) | ♡ one-shot; Boss!reader; Employee!Taehyung; Situationship!au; older female reader; 7k words ⇢ You knew he was trouble, and you still fell into his charms

The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; supernatural!au; siren!taehyung; smut; mystery; horror; 6k words ⇢ He comes to you at night, serenading his lonely tune filled with hope

𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 ☽.·✩·.¸

Bad For You (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; stripper!jungkook; bachelorette!au; infidelity; 11k words ⇢ His whole presence emits sin and danger     ↪ Fic Index ↪ drabbles: ⇢ #1 // #2

Undressed (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; stripper!jungkook; bachelorette!au, infidelity; 20k words; Epilogue for Bad For You ⇢ He was the epitome of sin, yet he pulled you in that you just had to come back for more

Pay By Play (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; cam boy!au; Voyeurism; part of the Made With Love Project; 3k words ⇢ It is your first try to do something like this and he is making it all worth it

We Are All Dreamers [M] | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; enemies to lovers!au; soulmate!au; 16k words ⇢ When he tries to rebel against the soulmate system

Boyfriend Jungkook drabble #01 | ✿mini drabble; boyfriend!Jungkook ⇢ When he wants a taste of your ice cream

Slow & Steady [M] | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; painter!jungkook; 7k words ⇢ Can you resist temptation?

Show Me Something [M] | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; road trip!au, friends to enemies to lovers!au; first love!au; 51k words ⇢ When the extra passenger opens the pathway to your broken past

A Touch Of Fate (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ one-shot; enemies to lovers!au; soulmate!au; 9k words; Epilogue for We Are All Dreamers ⇢ When he shows you just how good you are together

Under The Blankets (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; established relationship!au, pwp smut, tattooed!Jungkook x tattooed!reader; 6k words ⇢ When neither of you can resist temptation

Mirrors: what becomes of us (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; friends with benefits to lovers!au, pwp smut; 8,5k words ⇢ Is it worth it to fall for someone who has never revealed the true content of his heart?

𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐮 ☽.·✩·.¸

Chance Encounter (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✎ series; college!au; teacher’s aid!au ⇢ What a simple DM mishap could lead to happen     ↪ Chapter List

Maps (M) | ✵ ✿ ♡ ✓ mini-series; friends to lovers!au ⇢ Naps, Christian Yu, your bed – would you ask for anything more?     ↪ Chapters:  01 | 02 | 03 (final)

Take Care Of You (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; pwp smut; established relationship; 2k words ⇢ Helping your boyfriend to relax after long nights of working

Unravel (M) | ✿ ♡ drabble; pwp smut; established relationship⇢ He loves how easy it is to have you unravelling under his touch

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐧 ☽.·✩·.¸

Sweet Spot (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; established relationship; 6k words ⇢ When his jealousy makes him more daring than he is used to

Press Play (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; established relationship; 3k words ⇢ When he has an odd request for you to fulfil

What You Wanted (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; established relationship; 10k words ⇢ When he makes sure that your first time would be an amazing experience to share

Overdrive (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; musician/artist!B.I, manager!reader, smut; 13k words ⇢ When your carnal favours lead to something else

𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 ☽.·✩·.¸

✎ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 (𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐤)  ● Howlin’ (M) | ✵ ♡ one-shot; werewolf!au; fated mates!au; 6k words ⇢ When your responsibility to the Pack life comes between your Fated

✎ 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜 ● Simon Says (M) | ✿ ♡ one-shot; pwp smut; established relationship; 4k words ⇢ Simon wants to play

✎ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐥 ● A Night With You | ✿ ♡ (implied) mini drabble; boyfriend!Chanyeol ⇢ A glimpse of the nights you spend with him

— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[visionsofyouandme]

it's golden (like daylight)

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Winter is coming, bringing loneliness and shorter days. But Joel still finds he values the daylight (and you) through it all.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 13.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Afab!reader w she/her pronouns (but no physical descriptions), fluff, slow burn, pining!Joel, Jackson!Joel, post-outbreak, soft!joel, swearing, some physical violence (not against reader), age gap or no age gap- you decide!, POV switching, alcohol consumption, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), praise kink, Joel talks you through it, p in v sex, apocalypse BC method (pulling out), aftercare. Happy ending! (Moodboard for vibes and vibes only)

𝙰/𝙽: Well, here it is! The full-on, real deal. If you think this is familiar, it's because I originally posted parts 1 & 2 on my other blog, @queeneamidala but this is my new, improved, and SOLELY writing blog. I'm so excited to share the full thing with you guys. This is my first full length, finished fic in so so long. I would love any and all feedback- comments, likes, reblogs, you name it! Anyway, can't wait to share this lil journey with ya'll. Hope you enjoy <3

Read here on AO3 !

Joel was eating idly in the cafeteria when he heard Ellie’s voice. He glanced back, and noticed her talking to a woman he had seen around the town of Jackson. She was a friend of Tommy and Maria’s, he knew that much. Hell, a friend to everyone in town but him, it seemed. Granted, he hadn’t spoken a word to her, or opened the door to conversation in the first place. Some would say it was out of shyness or fear, but really, he just felt unworthy of her attention. 

She was beautiful, but that was just a general observation. 

You were beautiful, and he had come to this conclusion several times while passing you by in town. He had noticed you speaking to nearly every person in town. You had a very easy-going air about you, friendly. Open. 

So, he steered clear. Forming personal connections outside of immediate family was not something he was keen on. He has had a life fraught with grief, seen and done unspeakable things. He wasn’t meant to be loved, not after everything he’s done.

But the way you talked to Tommy, and now Ellie more and more often had Joel at an uncomfortably close proximity to you. Your presence was drawing near, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He sort of didn’t want to stop it.

But, just when he thought you were going to approach the table to sit, you broke away from Ellie and walked to a different table. He felt something drop in his chest. Was that really, really disappointment that he felt?

“Makin’ friends?” Joel questioned as Ellie sat down, and she snorted.

“Why? Jealous?” She said with a smirk, and Joel cocked up an eyebrow. 

“You could use a friend.” Ellie added, and Joel shifted a bit uncomfortably.

“I don’t need anyone.” He said into his food, and Ellie made a face, rolling her eyes.

“Everybody needs at least someone.” 

Joel’s eyes shifted to you sitting at the table just across from them. Your smile was radiant, and he felt something twist in his chest.

No

He wasn’t meant to be loved.

~*~*~

Winter was coming, and the people in town were preparing. You were busy but still managed to make time for people. For everyone, really. Joel was almost envious about how easy you talked to people. He didn’t have the same talent, but he was fine with that.

So, one day, when he was called upon a house to help with some faulty wiring, he was taken aback when it was your house he was called to.

You didn’t need help. Not really. You were fairly self sufficient, and made your own way through town. Joel knew this, and it made him nervous when you called upon him specifically to make sure you were prepared for the wintertime. 

But, he took his toolkit and went to your place. The door was open, but…

You weren’t home.

He felt disappointment in his chest again. He shook it off though and walked to the side of the house outside. He opened the box and began to work diligently, his mind wandering to other things. But he tried to fight off the thoughts of you and how disappointed he felt when he found out you weren’t home. However, they just kept coming around again, and again, and again.

“You look so serious.” A voice said, and Joel jerked back like he had been electrocuted. His head swiveled to the side and he saw you standing there, leaning against the side of the house with your arms crossed. You looked so effortless and cool, and-

How long had you been standing there?

“Job’s gotta get done.” Joel said, gesturing to the box, “as you requested.”

You nodded, and a smile creeped into your face that he hadn’t seen before. He had seen you smile plenty of times- laughing and talking with the people in town, with Maria, with Ellie. But this felt different. Or was he just imagining it?

“Yeah, you came highly recommended.” You said, and Joel scoffed, turning back to the box and tried to get back to work. But, he was horrible at multitasking, especially when it came down to you distracting him by your presence alone.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Ellie was insistent that you were the best the town had.” You said, and Joel lost his concentration and nearly dropped the screwdriver he held.

Christ, I’m gonna kill that girl. 

He furrowed his brow like nothing happened and kept working. He was definitely going to talk to Ellie later. The last thing he needed was the whole town to be depending on him for maintenance.

But for you…? Well, it wasn’t so bad.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to receive you. Work held me up.” You said, gesturing behind you. Joel finally flicked a switch and the box buzzed to life. He felt himself deflate a bit. Guess it was time for him to go.

“No worries.” He said, putting his tools back in the toolbox and stood straight. He held the box in hand, and regarded you with soft brown eyes. You pushed off the corner of the house, and smiled that bright smile of yours.

“You… let me know if there’s- if there’s anythin’ else.” Joel said, trying to keep it drawn out but it sounded rushed to his ears. He nodded minutely and you stepped out of the way.

“Thank you. It means more to me than you know.” You said, and shifted, your shoulders brushing by accident. Joel simply nodded, and made his way home.

He rubbed his arm after a few minutes of walking, trying to savor the warmth blooming under his skin.

~*~*~

Tommy and Joel were sitting at The Tipsy Bison, talking over a few drinks.

You had requested Joel’s help two more times now. Both small and trivial, but Joel was more than happy to help. You weren’t there the second time he came, but when he was there the third time, you offered him coffee. He was an idiot, and turned you down. But, that smile never wavered.

“Next time.” You said. 

Next time, Joel thought. There was going to be a next time? He hoped so.

“I see you’re helping some people out. Good for you to get some socializing in.” Tommy noted after taking a sip of his drink. Joel shrugged,

“It’s fine, I guess. Just doin’ my part.” He said. Tommy nodded, and regarded his brother with a peculiar expression. Joel felt like he was plotting something, but didn’t have time to really think about it before a voice pulled him from his thoughts. 

“Well, you two look like you’re having fun. Mind if we cut in?” Maria questioned, and Joel barely looked up, until it registered in his mind.

We?

You settled into the seat beside Joel while Maria took the one by Tommy, boxing the boys in. Joel instinctively stiffened, and hoped you didn’t notice. If you did, you didn’t show it.

“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” You questioned, and Joel glanced at you. He cleared his throat, looking down, and held up his glass slightly.

“Whatever they’re trying to pass off as whsikey.” He said, and you looked at him. He felt like a deer in the headlights, watching you look at him. It felt like time was suspended, and he gulped. But, you smiled like it was nothing and turned to the bartender.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” You said, jutting your thumb at Joel. The bartender slid the glass into your hand with ease. Joel thought everything you did was effortless. You certainly made it seem so.

It dawned on him that Tommy and Maria were knee-deep in their own conversation, promptly blocking off you two. It felt intentional, causing Joel to be put on the spot, under your eye.

“Thanks for all your help by the way.” You said, taking a sip of the amber liquid. Joel nodded, his brown eyes casting down to his glass.

“Anytime.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. It wasn’t lost on you that Joel was slowly becoming a bigger part of the community. He wasn’t just keeping to himself, but helping others with house repairs or such. You hadn't seen him offer such services until you had reached out to him. 

But, he didn’t do it for them. He knew that deep down inside. 

He did it for you.

“I gotta say, Mr. Miller, you’re an enigma.” You said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, and felt his stomach lurched at you saying his name, even if it was his last name. “You know; a mystery, something hard to explain.”

“I ain’t no mystery.” He said, shaking his head. You grinned, and tilted your head to the side. Joel felt his mouth go dry, so he took a sip of his drink to quell it.

“Okay, okay.” You said, shrugging and turned your gaze across the bar. He felt your elbows becoming achingly close. If he just shifted just slightly, he could feel you against him. 

“Mind if I stop by tomorrow?” You said so abruptly that it threw his thoughts off.

“Sorry?”

“I got Ellie a new book. Something about space and aliens and shit. Something I think she’d like.” You said. Joel felt a twinge of appreciation there. So, somebody was looking after Ellie besides him. He liked that. It warmed his hardened heart. 

“Sure. You can drop it off.” He said, and he stole a glance your way. You were grinning, but trying to hide it. You took a sip of your beer to try to mask it, but he could see the way the corners of your lips quirked up. 

“I’ll be there then.”

~*~*~

Joel had waited for you for a day or two. He found reasons to stay home, claiming he wasn’t feeling well, that he was sick. So, when you finally knocked on his door towards the end of the second day, he was surprised to find you holding a dish in your hand as well as the book.

“Heard you weren’t feeling well. Made you a little something.” You said so casually. But, Joel was floored. You heard about him, and went out of your way to do something for him?

He felt bad for faking his illness. But, the fact you did this? It flooded his chest with gratitude, and an ache that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Thank you.” He said, and went to take it but then paused. You laughed,

“I don’t care about getting sick. Here.” You said, and handed him the dish, barely crossing over the threshold. He took it gingerly, and looked down at it. Whatever it was, it looked damn good.

“Do you… would ya want to come in?” He offered. You suddenly beamed, and god, if that wasn’t a sight to see. Joel thought there wouldn’t be anything better in the world.

“Sure.” You responded, and Joel moved to let you inside. As you passed, he could smell your soap, or personal scent- whatever it was, he felt lightheaded in the best way. He closed the door and walked to the kitchen, you following him along.

“I also have the book. Hope Ellie’s not too mad it took me so long.” You laughed and set the book on the kitchen table. Joel walked to the other side, setting down the dish.

“‘M sure she won’t mind.” He said, and his eyes shifted to you. You and all your beauty, your kindness, the way your eyes smiled even while you were sharing a passive look.

“Do you want some coffee?” He questioned, and there he went, sounding rushed again. He just wanted you to stay, to share you sunlight with him just a bit longer. You had a knowing smile, and nodded gently.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” When you agreed to it, he got busy. He nearly knocked off the mugs off the counter trying to prepare everything. You sat at the table, and glanced down at the book. Joel looked back to see your attention on something else other than him, and felt a little more at ease.

“I got a patrol coming up.” You said, and Joel poured the dark liquid into one of the faded mugs. He turned and carried it to you at the table, sitting across from you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. They switched up my partner, though. Hannah isn’t feeling well, so they put me with someone else.” You said, and he could see for the first time something else in your expression- anxiety. Fear. 

He didn’t like it, to see you facing such emotions. He wished he could wrap them all up and throw them away. Whatever it took to see your smile again.

“Who’ya going with?”

“Jim Harris.” You replied with a nod, and Joel sat up a bit straighter. He didn’t like Jim, he always came off as loud and imposing. He didn’t have the best reputation when it came to women, either. He was rude and disrespectful, and there had been some complaints about harassment made against him. 

“I see.” He said. Why did anyone assign you with Jim Harris, of all people? They knew of his ways and his complaints. The last thing they needed was to put him with you, all while alone. 

No, he wouldn’t stand for that.

“I’ll get ‘em to switch things around. I’ll go with you.” He said, and nodded with finality. You looked at him, a bit surprised if not shocked. 

“Oh. You really don’t have to-“ But he waved you off.

“I can get some strings pulled so you won’t have to deal with him. Besides, I just… I can’t stand someone like him being near y-” but he paused, and tried to recover before he could say something stupid. “ It ain’t right.” He settled, his fingers gripping the coffee mug a bit tighter at the thought of Jim laying even a finger on you. You looked at Joel, the shock really settling in now. Joel was unaware of the gravity of his words in the moment, something he would regret later. Not that he said them, but that he hadn’t said more. 

“… Thank you.” You said quietly. Joel looked at you, and felt his chest bloom with warmth. Your words, though short and few, were filled with gratitude and relief that didn’t go unnoticed by Joel. 

“Anything you need, darlin’.” He said, the name rolling off his lips before he could stop himself. You smiled, and Joel would have given you the moon right then and there if you asked.

He cleared his throat as if it would clear the air, and he visibly relaxed. Knowing you would be under his care and away from Jim Harris’ whole being made him feel better. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strong need to be by your side when the time for patrol comes. It just felt right that he would be there to protect you.

“A true southern gentleman.” You mused as you took a sip of your coffee. Joel’s face flushed, and he averted his gaze, and began to speak but you cut him off.

“I like it.” 

Joel felt the ghost of a smile on his lips, and he glanced at you, shrugging.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” He said, and rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel his hair curling under his fingertips as he did so. He needed a haircut, and sorely.

But, the town was lacking a barber, so he figured he would do it himself one of these days. 

“A good habit to have.” You said, and he chuckled.

“Whatever you say, da-“ but he quickly cut himself off and hurriedly spoke your name instead. You smiled, regardless of what he called you. He found he liked saying your name. It felt personal, more grounded to reality. He was having a hard time grappling with reality ever since you crossed the threshold of his home. He couldn’t believe you were here, in his kitchen, drinking his coffee. He wanted this moment to last as long as time would allow- he would commit it to memory. Every word, every glance, every piece. 

He found he did that often with you- just taking in any bit of you you had to offer, when he was feeling brave enough. 

“I gotta get back.” You said, and stood up, rubbing your hands together to conserve the warmth of the coffee mug. Joel stood up, and nodded hurriedly, though he already felt the air grow cold in the absence of your presence.

“Of course. I’ll… I’ll walk you out.” He said, and stood up as well. He walked with you to the door at a snail’s pace, and you talked about your work for the rest of the day. The walk was all too short, and Joel’s hand rested on the doorknob. He looked at you, his brown eyes taking you in before he released you back to the world. 

“Take it easy. I’ll see you on patrol. Okay?” He said, and you gave him that gut wrenching smile. Could have brought him to his knees if you so desired.

“Sounds good, Joel.” You said, and he opened the door, the chill coming in as you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself. You smiled and gave him the lightest wave, and headed out into the cold Wyoming winter.

He watched you go, and his name still hung in the air. Despite the door being open, the cold sweeping in, he felt warm. 

Oh, he was such a goner.

~*~*~

Joel trudged to the outer part of town, gun slung over his shoulder. He promised he would meet you at the edge, where they traded out patrols. He had been busy with other things that day, and felt horrible that he couldn’t walk with you. But, he knew that a few hours alone with you would make up for that. 

At least, that’s what he hoped.

He came up and saw Tommy standing with a few others, talking indistinctly. When Joel approached, Tommy and the others turned. As they did, the group opened up and he could see you standing on the far side. Your face quite literally beamed up when you saw him. 

“Ready for another shift?” Tommy chuckled as Joel came up closer. “You’ll have to show the new girl all the ropes.” 

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was still evident on your face. Joel nodded, and he couldn’t help it as his lips quirked up on the ends when he met your eyes. This wasn’t lost on you, or Tommy for that matter. No one had seen Joel so much as literally turn his frown upside down, not even in the slightest. So, this was an interesting event for all involved.

“Well, no time like the present.” Joel said, and nodded forward. You bid goodbye to the others and walked with Joel across the town lines into the woods. He could sense your unease, and he glanced down to see a pistol on your hip.

“You know how to use that?” He questioned. You looked over at Joel and followed his gaze to the gun at your side, and then looked forward quickly.

“Unfortunately, yes.” You said. Joel frowned, but said nothing. 

As you two reached the outpost where you’d be staying, Joel let you climb up the ladder first. He followed shortly after, his head swiveling around for any signs of life that weren’t supposed to be there. When he was safely inside, he closed the makeshift door and sat down next to you.

It was cold inside. Almost bitterly so. Joel was fine, having his heavy jacket and several layers. He had done this before, so he came prepared, especially in the colder months.

You, on the other hand, were miserable. Not expecting it to be *this* cold, you were wholly unprepared for the coldness that seeped into the wooden outpost about 12 feet off the ground. You sat on the chair and crossed your legs to conserve warmth, shoving your hands between your thighs to keep them from freezing. 

Yeah, this was gonna be a long shift. 

Joel, ever vigilant, noticed that you were shifting uneasily. But, his thoughts ran elsewhere besides the cold. Were you afraid of him? Was this awkward? Did he make a mistake taking over Jim’s shift with you? Was this overstepping some invisible boundary?

But then, you spoke,

“Can’t believe it’s this fucking cold.” 

Your voice trembled a bit, and he watched you closely. His eyes softened a bit, and he took in your form. Yeah, you weren’t nearly as bulked up with layers as him. He set his gun down on the floor, leaning it against the window sill. You looked over at him, and it dawned on you very quickly about what he was about to do.

“Joel, don’t-“

“Can’t have you freezin’ on me, sweetheart. Won’t do much good if you’re an icicle.” He said, and shed his large jacket. Before he knew what he was doing, he stood and draped it over your shoulders. You sat still as he did so, and the warmth flooded you almost immediately. He sat back down, and your face was flushed with red. You cleared your throat, looking down at your hands.

“Thanks.” You said quietly. Joel nodded, like it was something he’d done a million times. He shifted his gaze back to the landscape that sprawled out in front of you.

You sat in a comfortable silence, and you eventually threaded your arms through Joel’s jacket. It smelled of cedar and musk, and you had always wondered what he smelled like. It felt as though he were enveloping you in a warm hug. You wondered if he ever did that sort of thing.

“When did you come here?” Joel questioned after a few minutes. You were surprised at his initiation of the conversation, but certainly not mad about it. 

“About 8 months ago. Came from a QZ in Georgia after it fell apart.” You replied. Joel looked over at you, and you continued to look out of the outpost.

“Escaped with a group of good people. We tried to find someplace else, someplace safe. It was one of the hardest things I had to do. Lead them to safety, after my husband died.” You explained, and Joel’s chest twisted. He had never noticed a ring on your finger, but he could see a faded outline of where one used to be.

“But, keeping everyone together was hard. Death followed us everywhere- Clickers, disease, bad food, water. The world seemed to pick us off one by one.” Joel shifted his gaze to outside. He could tell you hadn’t spoken about this often, and he could sense a tremor in your voice. 

“Eventually it was just me, wandering the woods. I felt hopeless, without purpose. I began to go kind of… well, insane. I don’t know how long I was out there til Tommy found me. Took me straight to the infirmary where they had to basically take care of me until I was able to be on my own two feet.” You said, and looked down, your hands clasped tightly together so much your knuckles turned white. Joel was stoic, unmoving, but his presence felt comforting. You didn’t know why you felt so comfortable with him, so you didn’t stop from going on.

“I’ve done some… terrible things. I’ve- seen so much… death. Coming here, it was a saving grace. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself much longer had they not found me.” You said. Joel’s heart dropped at this revelation, his eyes were soft with empathy. He knew all about hopelessness, about wanting to give up. About not having anything or anyone to live for. His finger traced the scar on his temple lightly before quickly dropping his hand in his lap. 

Had Ellie not come into his life, he would have taken the easy route out, and not missed that time. But, he just hated that you felt like you had to do the same. That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve to feel like that, not with how caring and kind you were. Not with how you literally made people’s days light up at the sound of your laugh or your smile.

It just wasn’t fair, this world you both lived in.

“I feel like I try to do good things to make up for all the bad I’ve done.” You added, though your voice was so small and quiet. Joel knew that feeling all too well.

“I’m sorry.” Joel could only say, and you looked at him to already see his eyes on you. You smile, but this one was sad, weak. You shrugged, and sighed deeply,

“It’s life, isn’t it? It’s never easy. But, the small things make it better. Good people, especially.” Joel noticed how your smile deepened a bit, and he could see that glint in your eyes. He nodded, and couldn’t imagine you would rope him into the “good people” category. But, he also saw your face, and how you looked at him, that maybe you did. 

And it made him feel… nice. 

“Yeah, the good ones. Few and far between. But, they exist.” He said, his eyes looking between your own. 

“I think there’s good people here.” You said, nodding forward. “You’re good people.”

And Joel, without knowing it, smiled. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t teeth-showing, but it was a smile. One that betrayed him immensely, but he couldn’t stop it now. Even though he disagreed, he couldn’t voice it. Not to you. He couldn’t go against anything you said, it would feel like a personal crime.

“So are you. I hope you know that.” He said, and reached out to take your icy hand within his own. You looked at him, studying his face as you gripped his hand back. 

And to Joel, the world just got a little bit brighter.

~*~*~

“Where are you going?” Joel said as he sat on the couch in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table. Ellie stalked past him to the door, and looked over her shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Out.” She said, and stormed through the door. Joel sighed. Teenagers.

He sat, listening to the crackly turntable in the corner. It played an old jazz record he borrowed from the library. Not his true cup of tea, but it was better than nothing. He needed to trade some other old ones in for new ones, but he had listened to the whole library by now.

He felt at ease for once. He played the time spent with you on patrol over and over. After your conversation, you spoke of happier, better things. Old baseball legends, old music, basically a throwback of pop culture before the world went to shit. You told him a funny story about your job that actually drew a true chuckle from him. He just felt… better around you. Your easy going demeanor and openness was enough to make him want to share with you. Share smiles, laughter, time together. 

And god, he loved all three when it came to you.

The record clicked to signal its ending, and he stood up, walking over to turn it over. Just as he put the needle down, there was a knock at the door. 

He walked to the door and opened it, seeing you standing there before him, looking chilled to the bone. He gestured for you to come inside quickly, and you shuffled in, huffing into your hands.

“What the hell ya doin’ out there in the cold for?” He said sternly, more concerned than upset, eyebrows furrowing. You shrugged, crossing your arms.

“Wanted to see you.” You said, and his jaw clamped shut.

Well. Okay.

He stood, like an idiot, in silence for a moment, before nodding minutely. 

“Make yourself at home. I’ll make coffee.” He said, and hurried to the kitchen. Even though it was nearly 7 in the evening, he needed time to process what you said, and that you were here to see him. 

You felt more warmth in Joel’s house than your own, and shed your boots and jacket, hung up the latter and walked to the couch. Sitting down, you tucked your feet under you to make them warm again. You looked around, trying to find the source of the music that was playing. You saw the record player in the corner, and smiled fondly. Of course Joel was a music guy, it just made sense. 

He walked back to the living room with two cups of steaming coffee, and walked to the couch. He sat down on the far side, giving you space, but leaned over to hand you the mug. 

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” He questioned as he took a sip. You took a hefty gulp and felt the warmth move down your throat and into your stomach. You were beginning to feel again, from your head to your toes. You felt less like an ice cube and more like a human, now.

“Just… wanted to see how you were doing. Been busy these last couple of days, I feel like I’ve neglected my friends.” She said with a light laugh. Joel’s eyebrows shot straight up, and he smiled small. Joel didn’t have friends. He had family. But, he would make an exception for you.

Maybe one day, you’d be family, too. 

He liked the idea of that.

“Ellie tells me you’ve been working like crazy, too. People are starting to like you. You better watch out, cause the ladies already fawn over you as is.” You laughed, and Joel regarded you with an unconvinced expression. He didn’t think anyone noticed him, let alone “fawn” over him. He just did his work, day in and day out. He was unaware of the “extra attention” he was drawing from the female crowd.

He didn’t see them, because he only saw you.

“Never noticed them. Didn’t think anybody noticed me.” He said simply, taking a sip of coffee. You shook your head, and smiled into your coffee.

“I noticed you. Always have.” You said, and Joel’s eyes shifted to you as you sat across from him on the couch. He found himself getting closer and closer to you. Not physically, but emotionally. The comfort level was at a steady pace. He wanted to be sitting closer to you, to feel your body heat and drink in your comforting presence. 

“Well, it’s hard not to notice you, darlin’.” He said. You blushed, and hid your face in your mug as you took a sip.

Joel was a man of few words. He was never good at them, never entirely graceful or eloquent. But now, he wished he was. He wanted to tell you how he felt, how much he cared, how much he really liked you.

But, he just didn’t know how. 

And he hated himself for that.

“What are you listening to?” You teased after a few minutes of silence, a saxophone filling the air. Joel wracked his brain to figure out who the artist was. 

“Louis Armstrong, I think. Jazz is the last genre I haven’t listened to at the library.” He said. You raised her eyebrows, then knitting together. And then, you laughed. 

“Never would have pegged you for a jazzy guy.” You said, and began to laugh. “Country, maybe. But- but smooth jazz? God.” You covered your face to keep the laughing tears from escaping you as your body shook with giggles.

Normally, Joel would frown upon someone laughing at him. But, it was you. He was making you happy, making you laugh- 

Now that. That was true music. 

“Yeah, well,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Yes, yes you are, Joel Miller.” You said, lowering your hand and looking over at him. He looked down at his mug, his pinky finger tapping against the edge lightly.

He wanted to find a reason for you to say his name again. And maybe again. He just wanted to hear you speak about anything under the sun, that would be enough for him. 

“Tell you what, Joel,” you said, and shifted on the couch to face him, leaning your elbow along the back of the couch. He shifted as well, turning his body a little towards yours. “You tell me a story, and I’ll tell you a story.”

“A story?”

“Yeah, fictional or true. I don’t care- I just…” you said, and silence followed. Joel waited patiently for you to finish. His heart was hammering in his chest, but on the outside he was calm and collected. 

You shrugged, and looked at him with a light smile. You didn’t have to say it. Joel knew. You knew. You just liked each other’s company, you liked the sound of each other’s voices. And it was becoming more and more apparent to the both of you.

“Alright.” Joel agreed, and your soft smile turned into a grin. He took a sip of coffee, and thought for a moment.

“I got one for ya. Not real, but a good story. Ever heard of the movie Smokey and the Bandit?”

“No.” You laughed. 

“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna tell ya all about it.”

~*~*~

The minutes turned to hours that night. You left sometime around midnight. And then you were back two days later, and the conversation struck up again. It turned into you two alternating between each other’s houses. Patrols got more frequent for you, and Joel was insistent that he go with you, not anyone else. 

Joel continued helping around the town, fixing broken things but keeping to himself when he wasn’t with you, Ellie, or Tommy. Ellie was making friends, and would visit them often, leaving him alone most evenings. 

But there was you, there to fill his time and capture his attention.

You were sitting in Joel’s living room one evening, the fire crackling in the fireplace to offer more warmth. You sat next to Joel, closer than ever before, your coffees already consumed and empty mugs sitting on the coffee table. 

Joel’s arm was slung across the back of the sofa instinctively, and you enjoyed the close proximity. Your knee brushed his every so often, leaving you both wanting more. But, things like this take time, and Joel was a gentleman. He wouldn’t press anything, too afraid to mess up whatever relationship was forming between you.

“Jim Harris approached me the other day.” You said, and Joel’s hand clenched at his side. Ever since he took over patrols with you, it seemed Jim was trying to find ways to confront you, but not Joel. Joel wondered why, as he was the one to change things up when it came to patrols. He guessed Jim thought you were an easier target. 

“He wanted to talk. I was in the middle of running food to Mrs. March’s house, she’s got a sick kid. I waved him off, but it still felt… weird.” You said and sighed, rubbing your forehead in thought.

“Other people have been acting weird lately, too. They ask about you a lot.” You added, and Joel looked towards the fireplace. While no one outwardly approached him, he could sense some of the womenfolk asking him to come around more often. Simple, almost dumb fixes. Some of them looked like self sabotage, and he was beginning to get his suspicions. He may be old, and sometimes oblivious, but it was getting more apparent that he was being eyed by several of the single (and sometimes even married) women in town.

Joel had seen the occasional man talk to you. They often leaned in to you as they did, or leaned against a wall or building post, trying to come off as cool or suave. You always smiled and talked cordially, not wanting to make any enemies. Some of them made you laugh, and that definitely didn’t make Joel feel jealous.

“Do I need to give a good talkin’ to to anyone?” Joel questioned, and you laughed, shaking your head.

“I think that would make things worse than better. But, I appreciate it all the same.” You said, your hand patting his knee. He glanced down, and your hand lingered for just a second longer than he anticipated, before you drew it away and back into your lap. 

“You know I’d do anything for ya. I’m not above roughing up somebody, so long as they leave you alone after.” He said, looking down to his lap, and you smiled lightly. You looked at him, and your faces were close. Closer than they had ever been before. Joel could feel the softness of your breath against his skin, and he felt his heart thrumming in his chest. 

He could feel the tension in the air, and could feel your gaze on him. He wondered what you were thinking, and raised his eyes to meet yours.

You had never seen brown eyes so dark, so beautiful, so…

The door was then wrestled open, and Ellie walked inside. She made a face at seeing you and Joel so close, but closed the door behind her. You wanted to move, but you felt Joel’s hand touch your shoulder lightly, subtly inviting you to stay.

“Tommy’s asking around for you.” Ellie said, kicking off her shoes and it made Joel flinch. He sighed, and his arm swung from your shoulders. He stood up, his knees cracking slightly, and silently cursed his older age for catching up with him.

“What’d I tell you about the shoes?” Joel said firmly to Ellie, who rolled her eyes and picked them up, setting them by the door and made an ‘okay?’ gesture. Joel looked over at you, who stood up and grabbed the coffee mugs.

“Duty calls.” You said, and smiled lightly as you carried the mugs to the kitchen. Joel sighed, and walked to the front door, pulling on his jacket and boots. You came out quickly after, and Ellie plopped down on the couch where you two had been sitting, picking up her book from the far side table. You looked as you passed, and tilted your head to the side.

“City of Ember? What’s that?” You questioned, and Ellie sat up, her eyes lighting up, and she grinned.

“One of the coolest books ever. It’s about a civilization underground, and…” she began rambling about it, and opened the book to show you the chapter she was on. You smiled, and looked at Joel.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You said, and Joel couldn’t help but soften at the event unfolding before him. You walked over to the couch and sat next to Ellie, and she eagerly told you about the book. Joel held the doorknob, and just watched for a moment. 

It was at times like these that he felt like the future was a little bit brighter for him.

~*~*~

“You’re going soft, old man.” Tommy joked at the bar one night. The snow had come and blanketed the town with white, and there was talk of Christmas celebrations. The town was much more merry than Joel had ever seen it. Or maybe, Joel was just feeling… well, maybe he was feeling a little bit of everything. Everything seemed brighter and warmer, even despite the cold weather.

Joel said nothing to Tommy’s remark. He kept quiet, his eyes always finding their way back to the doors of the bar. He was waiting, hoping, wanting.

And when you walked in, he felt his chest loosen for the first time that day. Tommy followed Joel’s gaze, and then back to his brother.

Suddenly, all the talk around town made sense. Tommy had his questions, but he knew his brother wouldn’t give them willingly. Joel never confided in anyone. Except, it seemed, you. 

The talk of the town was that you guys were screwing. Only because you two were alone quite a lot. And at night, for that matter. People talk, it’s a small town, and people get jealous. Rumors swirl, and things are said. Joel had been picking up the pieces, but tried to be the bigger person. It wasn’t anybody’s business as to what you two were behind closed doors.

But, instead of making your way to the bar where Joel sat, a form stepped in your way. 

“Jim.” You greeted, and could smell the alcohol on his breath, as he was that close to you.

“Been trying to catch you at a good time.” Jim said, and you feigned a disgusted look. You, like much of the other women in town, did not like Jim. 

“Well, now’s still not-“

“Come on, just give me a second. If you can make time for that ancient asshole over there, then you can make time for me.” He said with a cocky air to him, and you tried to step around him, but he stepped with you.

Joel’s fist tightened at his side, and he pushed his beer to the side, beginning to rise. He felt a protective air come over him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching. Tommy clapped a hand on Joel’s arm,

“He’s just drunk, Joel. She can handle hers-“ but Joel ripped his arm away and began to weave his way through the patrons to where you and Jim stood, and Tommy shook his head.

“Christ.” Tommy muttered, and dragged a hand down his face. He knew better than to sway Joel after he set his mind on something.

And he certainly couldn’t stop him when it came to protecting you.

“… he can share. I’d like to have a round with you, show you how a real man can treat you-“ Jim said, but Joel rounded on him quickly.

“What did you say?” Joel hissed, staring daggers into Jim’s back. Jim swiveled to face Joel, and Joel could see him sway a bit. Drunk or not, he had no right to speak to you that way.

“Fuck off, Miller. You can have her back when I’m through-“

At that, Joel had enough. He swung wide, his fist collided with Jim’s face with a sickening crunch. The crowd reacted with scattered gasps and flinches. Jim was down with one blow, and fell to the floor, his nose beginning to bleed.

“Jesus Christ, Miller! You…” He cried, and held his nose with a shaky hand. Joel bent down, and grabbed him by the collar.

“You keep your mouth shut around her, you understand? Or I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your fuckin’ dog.” He said, and raised his hand to give him another blow but a hand grabbed his arm. He was about to jerk away, thinking it was Tommy, but-

“Joel. Stop.”

Your commanding voice hung in the air, and Joel froze. He let go of Jim after a few tense seconds, and Jim fell back onto the floor. Standing straight, your hand eased up on his arm and he felt his breathing begin to even out. You still held onto him, and pulled at his sleeve to get him to walk away. He followed dutifully, and exited the bar with you while others watched apprehensively. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“I-“

“Joel. That’s not-“

“He was just so, so disgusting, and I couldn’t-“

You and Joel stood outside of the bar, the conversation tense following the events from inside. Joel’s hand continued to shake at his side, both from adrenaline and a dull throbbing pain, his ears still slightly ringing.

“He said… awful things. I couldn’t let him get away with that.” Joel said, and your eyes softened. You picked up his hand that he had knocked Jim with, and you could already see the redness forming there. Joel sucked in a breath quickly, and your eyes met his for a moment, thinking he was in pain. But, he was feeling something far from pain. Far, far from it.

“People have been talking.” You said, and Joel frowned. 

“They’ve been saying, er… that we have a rather intimate relationship.” You explained, and Joel gulped. While he would want that more than anything, laying accusations of that nature about you was enough to infuriate him. You held his hand within your own, and shook your head.

“But, It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they say. I say, screw it, let them think what they want.” You said flippantly, waving a hand to the side. “It’s not their business, anyway-“

You shook your head vehemently. You were upset that people would talk about Joel like that, after all he’s done for them. You knew it was all out of jealousy, and that it was all talk. It still stung, though.

Joel looked so serious, and normally you would have laughed and pointed it out. But you were so upset that you just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Besides, they… Their talk is warranted. I see how it looks, but it has nothing to do with them. Only us. Just us.” You said. Joel then took your hand in his with a much more firm grip, even if his knuckles were sore. You watched him for what felt like minutes. Well, there was no going back now. 

“I just… I care about you, Joel. A lot. More than- more than I can say. I like hanging out with you, I like seeing you smile, I like hearing your, rather rare, laugh. I want to hear what you have to say, I want to sit with you in silence and drink copious amounts of coffee. I-“ you rambled, and finally shut yourself up for a moment, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. 

“I just, I want more. I want to be with you. Okay?” You said, forcing the words out, and you looked up at him. He was watching you with those intense brown eyes in silence. You thought he was going to reject it, passing it by, as his grip loosened on your hand. But, his grip became soft, and he lifted your hand to his lips. He kissed your knuckles softly, and his honeyed brown eyes watched you with… adoration.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much you mean to me.” He said, his lips against your skin. He looked down at you, his eyes soft and sweet like a warm glass of whiskey. He raised a hand to bring his thumb against your cheek.

“I can’t give… I can’t give you much. I ain’t too good at grand, romantic gestures. I just have myself, it’s all I have to offer. You’re too good for me, and you deserve someone who can give you everything you could ask for, give you the world-“

“Joel,” You said, your eyes looking between his own. You your head, 

“I don’t want the world. I want you.” 

You leaned into his touch, and he let go of your hand to put a hand on your waist and closed the distance between you. 

And he kissed you. He kissed you the way he’s always wanted to- gently, cautiously, but full of hope and heart. 

You closed your eyes immediately on impact, and returned the kiss with a gentle push. You raised your hand to press against his bearded cheek, his hair tickling your fingertips. He smelled of wood and leather, and a strong smell that you knew was just Joel. He was everything you wanted, and more. 

You weren’t sure who pulled away first, but you both needed air. Joel leaned his forehead against yours, and his thumb still gently caressed your cheek. You were too good for him, and he knew that. He didn’t deserve anyone by the likes of you. 

And yet, here you were, wrapped up in his arms and returning his kiss. It was something he had only ever dreamed of, only ever thought about late at night.

But now, it was reality.

“Let’s get a cup of coffee. ‘S Fuckin’ cold out here.” Joel laughed, and you grinned, taking his hand and holding it tightly. You lead the way, through the snow and cold air, but you both felt warm from head to toe.

~*~*~

“Why not?”

“I said no.” Joel said firmly. 

“Well, you look like a sad, old, shaggy dog.” Ellie said, and eyed the scissors that sat on the bathroom counter next to Joel. Joel looked at her with a raised eyebrow,

“That’s why I’m going to cut it.” he replied. He was feeling a bit self conscious about his hair lately. It was long, overgrown, and curling at the ends. You didn’t say anything about it, but he felt… scraggly.

He kept his beard in good shape. That was easy. But, his hair was a different story. He ran a hand through it, and sighed. He was in a battle with himself. He needed to at least cut the back, but he had no way to look at it or judge how much he should cut. 

The door opened and you stepped into the Miller household, calling out your presence. You had been asked to come by after work for some kind of soup Joel attempted. You were practically living in Joel’s house at this point, though you still slept in your own house. It was all about taking it easy, you both agreed. It had only been a few weeks since your kiss, and you and Joel were still learning how to dance around a significant other again. But, it was falling into a rhythm, one that comforted you both.

Ellie’s eyes shifted and stuck her head out the doorway,

“In here!” she called, and you stepped into the way of the downstairs bathroom, assessing the scene. Joel glanced at you before frowning at the scissors.

“‘Sup.” Ellie greeted, and you grinned.

“‘Sup, yourself. What’s going on?” You questioned, a bit of snow still in your hair, and you rubbed your arms to bring warmth to them again. When neither spoke, you cocked up an eyebrow and met Ellie’s gaze. 

Ellie grew a mischievous glint in her eyes, and she leaned back on her heels, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Why don’t you get your girlfriend to do it?” Ellie questioned, and Joel’s eyes shot to her, red flaring up his face. You two hadn’t discussed the intricacies of your relationship, much less as to what label you would have. Joel cleared his throat and leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms to try to play it off. Ellie’s grin was apparent, and you stood at the bathroom threshold next to Ellie. 

Your eyes cast down to the scissors, and it dawned on you. 

“Somebody needs a haircut?” You offered, and Joel looked over at you, his eyes softening. He half shrugged, dragging a hand down his beard.

“Was just thinkin’ about it.” He said, and Ellie looked over at you with an exasperated look.

“He was just about to start until I came in. I offered, but-“

“You ain’t comin’ near me with any sharp objects, kid.” He said, his eyes narrowing at her. Ellie put her hands up in defense, and looked at you.

“See what I mean?”

“I’ll take it from here.” You said, and walked into the batroom and rolled up your sleeves. Joel leaned away slightly,

“You done this before?” He questioned, knowing better than to doubt you. But, this was his head you were talking about, and he didn’t want to look like a fool.

“Yeah. Used to cut hair all the time. I’m not a high end stylist but I get the job done. Now, ge over theret.” You said, picking up the scissors and gesturing for Joel to walk further into the bathroom. He sighed and did as he was told (because who was he to deny you?) and sat on the edge of the tub as you instructed. Ellie watched, that grin still plastered on her face, as she leaned against the doorway. 

“Take off your flannel, I don’t wanna get hair everywhere.” You said. Joel was wearing a t- shirt under his flannel, but it still felt… intimate. 

But, he undid the buttons and handed it off to you. You folded it and set it on the bathroom sink, and picked up the comb that lay not too far away. You turned to Joel and angled his head to the side and began to snip away slowly. Ellie shifted behind you, and shook her head.

“God, this is stressing me out. Don’t cut off his ears, okay?” Ellie said, and waved before leaving towards the living room. You grinned as you worked at Joel’s hair, using the comb as a line to cut around.

“I think that shows she cares. In her own way.” You laughed, and Joel rolled her eyes.

“She’s still a pain in my ass. And nosy as hell, apparently-” He said, and you heard Ellie shout from the living room,

“I am literally right here!” 

You shook your head and continued to cut. Joel sat still as stone, and your eyebrows began to furrow in concentration as you moved all around him. Joel felt more and more relaxed, with your presence so near and the sound of snip snip snip softly in his ear. You moved to the front side, and he held out a hand to place on your waist as if to keep you anchored in the spot. You smiled lightly, reveling in the touch as you continued to cut.

Joel’s hand was warm and steady on your hip, and he began to rub light circles into your side over your shirt. You tilted your head to the side; and he glanced up at you.

“You look so serious.” He said, and you glanced at him with an amused smirk.

“Hey. That’s my line.” You laughed.

“Is it that bad?”

“I’m just trying my damndest to not mess it up, baby.” You said, and moved to chop at the back. You definitely didn’t want your man to have a mullet, knowing the look didn’t really look good on anyone.

“I appreciate that.” Joel said, and meant it. He moved his head this way and that as you adjusted him, and then you finally stood straight. His hand stayed at your side, and he looked up at you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He said, and you smile, running the comb and then your hand through the top of his head.

“Anytime.” You said, your hand trailing down his hair to his neck, then to his cheek. He leaned into your touch instinctively, and your thumb brushed against his beard. You liked the way it felt under your fingertips, and how much he just looked and felt like a man. Your man.

It felt new to think that, but you wouldn’t say it out loud. Not yet. 

“You guys better not be getting weird in there!” Ellie called after a few beats of silence, breaking you from the intimate moment. Joel rolled his eyes and stood up, and you set the scissors to the side. He brought you close to his side for a moment and pressed a kiss to your temple. You smiled, leaning into him. 

Yes. Your man.

~*~*~

“Why don’t you spend the night?” Joel questioned as you both trudged through the snow after a shift on patrol. You turned your head to him, eyes narrowing.

“So that’s why you’ve been so quiet today.” you said, nodding in realization. Joel breathed out a huff of a chuckle, and shook his head. You could see red creeping on the tip of his ears, and knew it wasn’t just from the cold.

“Ellie’s got a birthday party to go to, said it’s gonna run late. They say it’s gonna get below freezing tonight, and I don’t want you to have to walk home in that-”

“Okay.” 

He cleared his throat, and nodded, his gaze moved down to the snow to make sure he didn’t step on anything that would give him trouble. You grinned, and shook your head at his bashfulness. He really was the perfect gentleman- never overstepping or forcing himself, respecting boundaries and even coming up with some of his own. He really was exercising the “taking it slow” rule, too. 

Maybe tonight could change that. 

When you parted ways, more work waited for you both. With a squeeze of hands and looks of longing, you both made a silent promise to meet up that night. 

Joel had managed to get to the house earlier, and began preparing. He had gotten some more soup from the cafeteria to heat up and for you to share. He had coffee at the ready, and his house was as clean as he could make it. After putting Ellie to work before she could escape, she later remarked that “the house had never been so clean,” and “she must be pretty important for you to dust the cabinets.”

She may not have said it outright, but she knew Joel cared for you. Despite their sometimes strained relationship, she was happy he wasn’t completely alone anymore. She could see this heaviness on his shoulders lift from time to time, that line between his eyebrows disappear when he saw you. Ellie couldn’t even tease him about it for much longer, as she had her own budding relationship that Joel would eventually find out about. Then the tables would turn and she would get the incessant teasing. 

“Hey,” she said, turning before she left to see Joel sweeping the kitchen one last time. He looked up, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t fuck this up.” she said, giving him a grin. The door shut behind her, and he shook his head. 

But, he agreed with her. 

~*~*~

The sun had set all too soon, and he waited anxiously for your arrival. He couldn’t sit still, and fiddled with the wood trinkets he had whittled, and looked through his sad excuse of a record collection. He could feel nervousness creeping under his skin, around his heart. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he was moving too fast. What were you thinking? Did you think that he was just looking to get some when he asked you to stay? He knew that wasn’t the case on his part, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. If anything, he could always take the couch-

A knock on the door sounded, and he nearly gave himself whiplash turning around and heading to the door. When he opened it, you stood with a mason jar in hand, your familiar green jacket pulled around you. Snow flurries dotted the background of where you stood, and Joel couldn’t help but smile. 

What was he worried about again?

You stepped in, and when the door shut, you leaned up and gave him a light kiss. He leaned into it, about to raise his hand to touch your face when you pressed something into it instead. He looked down at it, and then to you with a cocked eyebrow.

“Moonshine?”

“Correct. Just a little. Keith said that’s all it takes.” you laughed, and Joel shook his head with a smile. He helped you out of your jacket, and you bent down to remove your boots as Joel walked to the kitchen. He had a small pot to heat up the soup over the fire, and carried that carefully after putting the moonshine down. You walked to the couch as Joel set the pot over the fire, and felt the warmth of Joel’s house seep into your bones. You tugged at the sleeves of your blouse, and Joel noted he hadn’t seen it before as he sat down next to you. It was nice- a little form fitting, beige with some kind of subtle floral pattern. 

“Somebody dressed up.” Joel chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. You nudged his shoulder lightly as you settled into the couch, Joel’s arm moving instinctively around the back of the couch to welcome you into his side. 

“Figured i’d try at least a little.” you said, and Joel pressed a kiss to your temple gently.

“I like it.” he said quietly, and you leaned your head onto his shoulder, the crackling of the fire and the wind outside being the only music you two listened to.

“Joel?” you questioned, and Joel hummed in response, leaning his head against yours. If he could be stuck in a snowglobe, trapped in time, it would be this moment. “Tell me a story.” 

He smiled, and sighed, lifting his head and looking around, eyes narrowed.

“Alright, I got one. It’s dumb, but it was funny.” he said, trying to recall the details of the movie in question. It had been years, though. “I’ve seen it god knows how many times. It was Sarah’s favorite-” he said, but abruptly stopped. You stilled for a moment, and pondered what to say next. Joel had mentioned his daughter a few times in passing. Never for too long, but you had pieced this much together- she was young, died on outbreak day, and Joel couldn’t save her. 

You could relate- you had lost your parents in quick succession after the outbreak, leaving you with strangers to survive. Losing your husband a year ago, the last of the familiarity you knew. You had never known true stability… Until now.

“She… she was a good kid-” Joel said, and you lifted your head and could see a misty look in his eyes. You pressed a hand to his cheek, grounding him back to reality.

“With you raising her, she must have been lovely. They learn the best from you, you know.” you said, and smiled gently. Joel’s eyes moved downwards, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek gently. You didn’t want to press it, knowing it was a sensitive subject for him. But, with a shaky breath, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, like he was looking for something. A reason, a comfort, something.

But, his eyes moved back to you. Though weak, he smiled. You were both a reason and a comfort. Two things he needed to finally break the ice on his first daughter. 

“She loved reading. Made me read her all sorts of stuff. She knew how to read before other kids her age. I… I’m proud of her. What she did, when she was still here.” he said, swallowing. You nodded, your hand never straying far from him as it sunk from his face to take his free hand. 

“She’s still here, Joel. You carry her wherever you go. Memories are good for that- keeping people alive, even when they’re not here next to us.” You said quietly, and Joel’s smile strengthened a little bit more. He nodded, exhaling deeply and shifted on the couch to get a little more comfortable.

“I remember I took her to the library every week, ever since she was little. She loved to walk around the aisles, didn’t care much for the play area. She would come with a stack of books this high,” Joel said, and raised his hand over his knee, and you giggled. “Insisted she would read every single one. And she did.” 

~*~*~

When dinner was all said and done, you both nursed your second glass of moonshine, the conversation a bit more light. You recounted some funny stories from working around the commune, and Joel would laugh in amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You loved that sight, and couldn’t help but grin every time. 

“No, really! She said she was going to march straight to his house and give him a piece of mind. I mean, I'd do the same thing- you can’t let that shit slide.” You said, and Joel just continued laughing. You rolled your eyes, nudging his leg with your toe. The moonshine was definitely getting to you two. You had a fleeting thought to either thank Keith later or wallop him over the head. This shit was strong.

“Please, darlin’, have mercy on me.” he said, his cheeks rosy with the effects of the alcohol, a hand pressed against his aching stomach from laughing so much. You grinned, happy to see him like this. So free, so comfortable, able to laugh and actually mean it. You leaned forward and took the nearly empty glass from him. He made a noise of protest but didn’t move to stop you as you set your empty glasses on the coffee table in front of you. You nearly fell over and Joel caught you before you could tumble to the floor, both of you giggling for no damn reason. Joel pulled you up, and you were nearly nose to nose, sitting up on your knees next to him. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you suddenly felt hot. You couldn’t tell if it was actually sweat collecting down your back or if it was just a feeling. Your hand rested on Joel’s chest, and your laughter subsided, your gazes on each other turning heavy. Your hand rested on his chest, and Joel’s brown eyes kept moving back and forth to your own. You raised a hand to press against his cheek and before you even had the notion to lean in, he crashed his lips onto yours. The force knocked you back a bit, but you recovered and kissed back, eyes falling shut. Joel hummed against your lips, and your eyebrows knit together in want. In a fit of passion, you swung your leg over his thighs and rested on his lap. This drew a real, true groan from Joel, his hands settling on your hips and gripping them like a vice. You tilted your head down, capturing his lips in a deep kiss that was enough to make your head spin. 

Joel began to move your hips in his grasp, and you could feel a tightening of his jeans beneath you. You chased the feeling, beginning to grind against him. You pulled back to only dive into his neck, kissing the column and then to the side, moving to the spot under his ear. A low grumble came from his chest, tilting his head back to revel in your kisses. You began to suck on the spot, your hand moving from his chest to palm at his jeans. Joel’s hand abruptly moved from your hip to your shoulder, pushing you back just a bit before you came up voluntarily. 

Looking at Joel with wide, lust-blown eyes, you suddenly felt a wave of doubt cross you. Did you overstep? Was this too much? 

“Darlin’,” he began, his chest rising and falling, his dark brown eyes nearly black from what you’ve done to him. He cupped your cheek gently, “If we’re gonna do it, we’re gonna do it right. Somewhere more comfortable for the both of us.”

Your doubts were dashed away like a bolt of lightning, a smile rising to your face and you kissed him deeply. Shuffling off of him clumsily and standing up, you extended your hand to pull him off the couch. He began to lead you to the bedroom up the stairs, a giddy feeling in his chest. When the door swung open, he didn’t give much time to linger on the contents of his room, turning to you and pulling you to his chest and pressed a hot kiss to your lips. 

You didn’t know Joel could be so passionate, but you were not complaining. You sighed against his lips, and Joel began to back up until the back of his knees hit the bed. You pushed him and he slowly sat down, breaking away from the kiss to look up at you as you stood over him. His hand reached out and settled on your waist, and you just had to take a second and admire him. Mouth swollen and pink from the kisses, eyes filled with a healthy mixture of lust and adoration, his chest rising and falling to show his anticipation. You could only wonder what you looked like at that moment. Probably a wild and lustful thing, dripping with anticipation. 

You began to sink to your knees, but Joel was quick to pull you up with a gentleness and pecked you on the lips.

“Next time.” he mumbled and you began to giggle, feeling the corners of his lips quirk up. You pulled away, shoulders still shaking from your giggles, butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“Oh yeah? Next time?”

“Of course.” Joel said, as if it was clear as day. You grinned and moved to kiss him but he took you by the waist and turned you to lay on the bed with you on your back. You bounced on the old springs, and grinned up at Joel, hand moving to his shoulder as he leaned down and kissed you with fervor. Your other hand moved to his flannel, struggling to undo the buttons one-handed and had to have your other hand join in. Joel’s hand decided to busy themselves with the button of your jeans, sliding the zipper down. Just as you were about to undo the final button, he pulled away and undid it himself, pulling the flannel off and discarding it somewhere behind him. You pouted at the sight of the undershirt, and he laughed at your expression, pulling it off and threw it back to join his flannel. Suddenly his self-consciousness about being shirtless was left at the door, along with all of your doubts and worries. 

You sucked in a breath, and had dreamed of this sight. You knew he was solid, broad, but this was a sight to behold. He was all smooth, freckled, tanned skin, his stomach a little pudgy but meaning it was well loved. It was all you had imagined, and a little more. 

“... darlin’? Did you hear me? Lift your hips for me.” he said, bringing you back to reality, and you obeyed as quickly as you could to catch up with him. He pulled your jeans down, and you felt the cool air settle on your skin and realized he took your underwear down too. You whined in anticipation and he paused just as your jeans hit the ground. He looked up at you, a silent question in his eyes and you gave him a strained smile and a subtle nod. He settled on the floor, a hand tracing down your torso to your stomach, then pelvis. He kissed your knees, then your thighs and eased them open gently. 

“Jesus,” he murmured as he looked down at your glistening cunt, and you lifted yourself up onto your elbows in a sudden movement to capture his reaction. “You’re fucking perfect.” 

With little preamble, he leaned his head down and you lost the support of your arms as you fell back when you felt his tongue give a firm swipe up your folds. Your hands gripped the sheets out of pure bliss. If this is what you felt like now, what was in store for you next?

Joel’s lips pressed to your clit which was already throbbing with need, and your eyebrows knit together as he began to suck on it gently. Your hand itched to thread through his hair, and he did another swipe up and down your cunt before sliding his tongue inside. You both let out a chorus of groans and gasps, your back arching off the bed and his hand moved to press against your lower stomach to keep you in place. He repeated a cycle of licks, kisses, and sucking of your clit that made you see stars. Your hand eventually found the back of his head, and you really didn’t have to do anything as he pressed himself more into your cunt, his nose swiping over your clit as his mouth worked in and out of you. 

“Joel-” you whined, feeling the sensation of a tightening in your stomach, your lower back alight with heat. He must feel you were close, as you gasped when two fingers entered you, joining Joel’s mouth as he worked you. “Fuck,” you sighed, trying to turn your head to look down at him. But, it had been so long since you had had a proper orgasm not by your own hand that all you could do was lay back and take it. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby.” he murmured, the words of praise making you exhale sharply before sucking in another breath at a strong suck to your clit. His fingers worked in and out, the sounds of squelching from your wet cunt filling the room. Your body began to wind up, your stomach flexing under his hand that still rested there. 

“That’s it. Come for me, darlin’.” he said, not sure if he was actually talking to you or your body to coax you into an orgasm. He then curled his fingers inside you and you tightened around them, body trembling and you let out a whine that turned into a moan, your hand holding onto his hair as the other gripped the sheets for dear life. Your body flooded with endorphins, and you felt a flooding sensation down south as well. Joel pulled out his fingers, lapping up your release with obscene noises. With a few swipes of his tongue and a few swirls around your clit, you had come down gently, eyes closed as black and white danced behind your eyelids.

Feeling him shift, you opened your eyes and he coaxed you into pulling off your shirt and unclasping your bra. Your body felt weightless but heavy all at the same time, but you found the strength to move back on the bed with trembling limbs from your orgasm. Joel undid his jeans and pushed them down before climbing on top of you. You looked down and… god. He was impressive. 

He kissed you deeply, bringing you out of your thoughts abruptly once more, tasting yourself on his tongue. He rested a hand on your waist, his hips instinctively grinding against your own and you shivered at the touch, winding a hand through his hair to keep him close. Your hand found his cock and you gave it a few encouraging pumps, finding he was rock solid. 

“Shit, sweetheart, if you do that- I’m not gonna last-” he groaned, and you smirked against his lips and pressed him against your folds. Even feeling the head of his cock was enough to send you spiraling and your grip on him loosened. But, he was quick to take it and align himself, mouth moving in tandem with yours. He gave a few swipes of his tip and just when you were about to beg, he slid himself inside, bit by agonizing bit. You sucked in a breath as Joel exhaled with a soft moan, your mouths open and hovering between each other. Your hand moved from his hair to his cheek, and he pressed his forehead against yours as he began to rock his hips. 

You were in bliss. It was such an intimate, soft moment as he took his time moving in and out of you. A hand loosening on your waist, his hand explored the expanse of your side, up and down as the other supported his weight next to your head. 

“Joel…” you whispered, your other arm abandoning the sheets and curled around his back to keep him close. He rocked back and forth and hit your cervix, once, twice, three times until it became a habit. Your body began to tense again, and he groaned into your neck, your name escaping him with a hiss. He kissed your neck, his hips moving a bit faster, hitting that spot with more force. Your toes began to curl as your legs wrapped around his waist, and he began to stiffen, but didn’t let up his pace.

“Come on, give me another one.” he murmured against your skin, and your cunt twitched at the encouragement, causing him to moan again. You didn’t think he would be this vocal during sex, but god you were loving every bit of it. 

“Please, Joel- I wanna-” you whined, and he reached down between you two and began to rub circles on your clit to further encourage you. Your lips parted, eyebrows scrunching up. That’s all it took for you to come undone the second time that night, tightening around him and encouraging his own release. His hips stuttered, giving about three more languid thrusts. He then quickly moved, sitting up slightly as he pulled out and pumped his cock, his sticky release painting your pelvis and stomach with white. 

“Fuck.” you whispered, and grinned, Joel panting as he watched his work, and then moved his eyes to you. You couldn’t want to taste that coming down your throat. But, next time.

He leaned down, uncaring that he smeared his release between you as he kissed you deeply. You couldn’t find the strength to meet him halfway, but raised a hand to press against his face to keep him there for a moment. 

He pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours and mumbled a “be right back,” moving to go down the hall to the bathroom and he came back with a damp washcloth, wiping himself and you down. He set it to the side, and joined you on the bed. His arm moved over your torso, and he propped himself up to look at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

“So… you’ll still stay?” he questioned, his voice soft, questioning. But, you already knew your answer, and gave him a smile, and a gentle nod. 

~*~*~

Somewhere in the night, you had to borrow some of Joel’s clothes. The cold draft in the room was a bit more tolerable with a t-shirt and sleep pants on. Luckily Joel had enough for the both of you.

The sunlight peeked through the faded curtains, signaling morning had come. You lay on your side, Joel’s body pressed against your back, an arm around your waist. Your eyes opened slightly, still thick with sleep, but taking in your surroundings. Joel’s room was simple, but cozy. The sunlight filtering in was warming up the area, and you held onto the pillow just a bit tighter, pressing back against Joel to savor his warmth. 

When you did, Joel let out a hum, and you felt a kiss on your shoulder, then another. And another.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d wake up.” Joel chuckled, and gave your hip a squeeze. You grinned, turning in his arms and laid on your back, looking over at him. 

“Well, having three rounds was enough to knock me the hell out.” you laughed. You really didn’t know how Joel could keep up with the age he was at. But, he was insatiable, like a horny frat boy at a sorority party. And you weren’t complaining.

“Mm. You sound so upset.” he chuckled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then sitting up a bit to kiss your lips. Now that this particular moment in your relationship had happened, Joel seemed a bit less nervous and a bit more giving. You could only wonder what the future had in store. 

“Did Ellie come home?” you suddenly questioned, and Joel nodded, his hand running up and down your side, pulling you close.

“She did. Don’t worry.” he said, pressing a kiss to your neck. You wanted to laugh at that- Joel Miller telling you not to worry? That was yet another first.

You sat in silence, the sun growing more and more bright as it rose in the sky. It gave the room a very warm, inviting, and comforting tone. You sighed as Joel leaned his head into your neck, his scent enveloping you. Turning your head to press your nose to his forehead, he gave her shoulder another kiss, then your neck. 

“So, does this mean I can hold your hand around town now?” Joel mumbled, and you couldn’t help but grin like a kid on Christmas.

“Only if I can tell people about my absolute hunk of a man.” you teased, and Joel lifted his head at that, eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m a what?” he asked, though it was in disbelief and not confusion.

“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed, and raised a hand to card through his unruly brown and silver locks. He gazed down at you, his brown eyes looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered now. You felt that familiar twist in your lower stomach, and smiled. “You’re my man, that’s all that matters.”

Joel nodded, and kissed your lips again,

“And you’re my girl?” he questioned genuinely against your lips. The sentiment and hopeful tone eased any tension that was left in your body. Your hand tightened in his hair just enough to apply pressure and deepen the kiss, your body shifting and calling for his own. And just as sure as the sun rises, his body met yours halfway, answering that call.

“I am. I wouldn’t want to be anything else.” you murmured, and you could feel Joel’s smile on your lips, humming in delight. Feeling like a couple of lovesick teenagers in a world that had gone to hell, you stayed in each other’s embrace as the sun rose high in the sky. 

Daylight has never looked so beautiful.

THE END.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 17

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: Suicide character.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Author Note: After this, you will hate Steve more.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Historic Victory! Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes Elected with Record-Breaking Votes."

You stood among the crowd in awe, feeling the gravity of the moment as Bucky stepped up first to take his oath. His right hand rested on the Bible, and his voice was steady, resonating across the packed hall and through the media broadcasted nationwide.

“I, James Buchanan Barnes, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”

He glanced at you briefly, pride mingling with disbelief in his eyes as he finished, “I pledge to faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter, so help me God.”

It was almost surreal, watching Bucky stand here, on the cusp of history. You could hardly believe it. He had done it; he was now the Vice President of the United States.

Then came Steve’s turn. He took his oath with an unwavering focus, his voice rich with conviction:

“I, Steven Grant Rogers, do solemnly swear to faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

As Steve finished his oath, the crowd erupted into applause. He stepped forward, eyes fierce with resolve, and gave his inaugural speech. "Today, we embark on a new journey,” he began, his words confident and calculated. “I promise to carve out every rotten part to make this country stronger and more flourishing than ever.” The crowd cheered wildly, the energy of the historic day surging through the masses.

Standing close to Bucky, you leaned toward him and whispered, “I hate him.”

He gave a small, amused smirk, clearing his throat as he pulled you closer, his arm draping protectively over your shoulder. “Stay calm, dear,” he whispered back. “We don’t want your bitter expression captured for posterity.” He pressed his hand gently against your back as you both moved through the crowd.

Across the room, Peggy watched the two of you, noting the way Bucky’s hand never left yours, even when he greeted others. The warmth and easy familiarity between you were evident to all. Peggy, however, stood isolated beside Steve, even as every camera focused on them as the new First Couple. She was now the First Lady, yet she felt utterly invisible.

Because in Steve's eyes, he only looked for Hazel. She remembered the disappointment on his face when he learned that the woman and the little boy were not joining him for the inauguration.

Then Caroline Barnes and her husband Julius approached her, their expressions triumphant. Caroline, with a rare, large smile, was the first to speak. “Congratulations, Peggy,” she said, her tone sweet yet cold.

She’d been Peggy’s confidante for years—long before the politics, the campaigns, and all the layers of public life that followed. They shared memories that went back to the days when they were just two young women navigating life and love, laughing over coffee and late-night conversations.

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline’s rare smile as she looked at you next, her eyes flashing with satisfaction. The silent message was clear: you had fulfilled your promise, standing beside her son as the Vice President’s wife.

Bucky, noticing her cold glare toward you, leaned in and murmured, “Seems like you’ve won her over.”

Just then, Natasha, a familiar figure in her sleek Secret Service uniform, approached you both. Her tone was clipped and professional. “The President would like to see you,” she said, giving you a pointed look.

You felt Bucky tense slightly beside you. As you moved to follow Natasha, Bucky instinctively stepped forward too.

“Alone,” Natasha added, her gaze shifting to Bucky.

You exchanged a confused look with him, both of you uncertain as to why you were being called without him. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. With one last glance, you followed Natasha toward the Oval Office.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Oval Office was imposing, vast and elegant. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room, yet the weight of history and power was palpable in every corner. The walls were lined with portraits of past leaders, and every polished surface seemed to reflect Steve’s ascendant status. He stood before the massive, iconic desk, hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of unyielding authority. In this space, he looked like a man who could command nations—a conqueror with the world at his feet.

As you entered, Steve turned, offering you a polished smile that held no warmth. “I imagine you’re wondering why I wanted you here alone,” he said, voice smooth yet laced with an edge that left no room for misinterpretation.

Your thoughts were racing. Being in this room with him—Steve Rogers, the man who had climbed to the highest seat of power while leaving a wake of destruction in his path—felt surreal. You could feel the walls closing in, every inch of the Oval Office amplifying the cold reality of his ambition.

Steve raised a single finger, his tone shifting to one of playful scorn. "Not once did you congratulate me." He let the silence hang, watching you. "I know why. You blame me for your friend’s death.”

Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as his accusation hit you. “So you admit it?” you shot back, unable to mask the tremor of anger in your voice.

He scoffed, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Admit it? That man almost sabotaged the campaign. He betrayed you, and when he paid the price, I’m the one you despise? Most people would thank me.”

The words stung, each syllable a twist of the knife. He continued, almost mockingly, his voice lowering as he leaned slightly forward. “Are you sure you’re up for this fight?” His gaze sharpened, piercing. “Find a better reason to hate me.”

Every word he spoke grated against you, each line deliberately crafted to sting. But you swallowed, forcing yourself to keep your expression steady, refusing to let him see the turmoil swirling inside.

He shook his head, dismissing your anger with a faint chuckle, then leaned back against the desk. “What’s your plan, then? After you bring me down—let’s say you even succeed—what’s next? Do you want Nate to grow up with a criminal for a father?”

Your mind raced, the walls of the Oval Office seeming to close in even further as his words lingered in the air. Steve's gaze was fixed on you, measuring, calculating your silence. And then, as if sensing your hesitation, he gave a triumphant smile, his voice like velvet but colder. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

He turned his back, leaving you standing there, stunned. 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Four Months Later

You sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the TV as Steve’s face filled the screen. Every channel was the same, broadcasting praise for him, with pundits and newscasters barely containing their admiration. It was unsettling. The media, usually fierce in their critiques, seemed almost reverent. You clenched your jaw, your annoyance simmering under the polished surface of his televised speeches and the careful flattery of his supporters.

From behind you, Bucky spoke up, his tone casual yet knowing. “That’s why people like him,” he said, coming closer. “He never once said he’d make this country fair or just. But he’s proving himself, little by little.”

You looked up, catching his serious expression. He continued, “Steve knew that every leader who vows fairness and justice ends up being despised as soon as they’re in power. They turn into exactly what they swore they’d destroy.”

You couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “So… can we abdicate him?”

Bucky laughed softly. “Abdicate Steve?” He smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Honey, that’s a little extreme, even for you.”

“Steve’s ascension was legitimate. He fits the role, and from what the surveys say, voter turnout was historic.” He paused, meeting your gaze with a measured seriousness. “Overthrowing him would shatter public trust—not just in him, but in the entire government.”

“Would it, though?” you asked, challenging him with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky sighed, crossing over to sit beside you. He rested his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t focus on Steve alone—consider what my position means now too. I’m still seen as ‘the new kid,’ the one who made it here because of him. Plenty of people are watching, eager to see me stumble.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the determination there, but also the caution. Bucky knew the stakes, perhaps even more than you. You could feel the weight he carried, the delicate balancing act of supporting Steve while laying the groundwork for his own ambitions.

He took a deep breath, leaning closer, his voice low and resolute. “People may believe in me, but if we move too fast, we’ll lose them. And I won’t let that happen. I know you believe I could make a good president—and I plan to get there. But…” He paused, looking into your eyes, “we have to be patient.”

You remembered the priest’s words: ‘Believe in God’s timing.’ Patience, the one thing you struggled with most in a situation like this. But you trusted Bucky. You could feel his strength, his restraint, his understanding of the game they were all playing.

Bucky’s gaze softened, but his words were firm. “To succeed, I have to publicly support Steve, at least for now. In politics, loyalty and trust are everything. We need them on our side.”

As you processed his words, a chilling realization sank in. Steve’s mocking question echoed in your mind: “Are you sure you’re a match for me?” He was right—his plans were meticulous, every move calculated for safety. And Bucky was right too. This was a game of patience, timing, and subtlety.

But the question remained: Who would be powerful enough to finally bring Steve down?

🌸🌸🌸🌸

At the White House, Peggy approached the front entrance, only to be stopped by two Secret Service agents, their expressions impassive.

“I'm here to see my husband,” she said, her voice firm, though a tremor betrayed her unease.

One of the agents cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You don’t have clearance to enter.”

She blinked, the words sinking in like a slap. “Excuse me? This is my husband's residence. I have every right to be here.”

The agent’s face remained unreadable. “I understand, but orders are orders. Mr. Rogers specified… no access.”

Humiliated, Peggy took a step back, heat rising to her cheeks as a cold realization struck her: Steve was truly keeping his word. She was being kept out of his life, and now, out of his home. She turned, bitterness flooding her chest, and started down the steps, fighting to keep her composure.

As she walked toward her car, laughter drifted from the garden. Curiosity sparked, and she moved toward a nearby window, peeking inside. There, in the garden, was Steve, laughing as he played with Nate, while Hazel sat on a bench, watching them, her smile soft and warm.

The scene twisted like a knife in Peggy’s heart. They look like a family.

She clenched her fists, forcing down a surge of fury and grief. In a voice barely more than a whisper, she asked the guard at her side, “How often do they come here?”

“Every weekend, ma’am,” the guard replied softly.

Her voice cracked as she stammered, “D-Do they… stay the night?”

The guard’s silence was enough, but he finally nodded, “Yes.”

The words struck her like a blow to the gut. She stays here? She sleeps in the White House? Peggy had never once been allowed to spend the night here, but Hazel—Hazel could? The injustice stung in a way that words couldn’t capture.

On her drive back, the scenes replayed over and over, thoughts like poison seeping into her mind. She remembered a press conference where Steve had passionately pledged to support local manufacturing, calling out Hazel as a shining example.

“Like one designer, Hazel Barnes,” he had said, the admiration in his voice unmistakable. “She’s the kind of woman who understands her privilege and uses it to lift others up. Her business is 100% local, supporting homegrown talent. If we had more people like her, this country would thrive.”

The memory burned, the admiration in his tone a raw wound. Not once had he praised her. Not when he was in the military, not when he became governor, not when he ran for Senate, and certainly not now, when he was president. Hazel was now his example, his ideal, the woman he chose to highlight.

By the time she finally reached home, it was close to midnight. She entered the house in a daze, weary from her own broken heart. Yet despite the pain, she clung to her duties, driven to exhaustion by a schedule that seemed never-ending. As she set her bag down, her assistant approached her, offering a warm, sympathetic smile.

“The twins had a good day today,” her assistant said softly. “They finished their study sessions and met with the psychiatrist. They’re making great progress."

Peggy’s tired eyes softened at the news. “Thank you. That’s… that’s wonderful.” She gave a slight nod, the smallest glimmer of peace settling in her chest.

Quietly, she made her way to the twins’ room and opened the door to find them still awake, caught in the glow of a handheld game console.

“Hi, Mom,” one of them greeted her, quickly hiding the console behind his back. Both boys looked at her with guilty smiles, expecting a reprimand.

But instead of scolding them, she stepped forward, placing a soft kiss on each of their foreheads before wrapping her arms around them in a rare, tender hug.

“Mom?” they asked, voices laced with concern as they took in her weary expression.

She managed a small, tired smile. “I’m just… tired. That’s all.”

One of the boys squeezed her hand. “Take a hot bath, Mom. We’ll make you some milk with honey.”

The gesture nearly brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, boys,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “Thank you so much.”

They left, shooting her worried looks over their shoulders as they went downstairs to prepare her drink. Peggy moved into her room, slipping off her heels and sitting at her vanity, removing her makeup with slow, methodical movements, as though going through the motions might somehow soothe her mind.

A knock came at her door, and she turned to see the twins standing there with a warm mug in hand, faces bright with concern. She mustered a smile, taking the milk from them. “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. “It’s delicious.”

The twins lingered, watching her carefully, but after a moment, they seemed reassured. She looked the same as always—tired, maybe a little worn—but still their mother. With quiet “goodnights,” they slipped away to their room, leaving her alone in the silence of her own thoughts.

Peggy finished the drink, placing the empty mug down with trembling hands. She reached into her desk drawer, fingers brushing over an object she hadn’t touched in months. She pulled it out slowly, staring down at it for a long, heavy moment before standing and making her way to the bathroom.

She undressed and stepped into the hot bath, letting the warmth soak her weary body. But as the heat wrapped around her, it couldn’t reach the coldness embedded in her heart. She leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind swirling with everything she had once hoped for Steve, all the faith she'd placed in him.

He was supposed to be different. She’d thought that becoming president would have brought out wisdom and fairness in him, but instead, he clung to his principles, more ruthless than ever. Memories of the admiration in his voice when he praised Hazel flooded her thoughts, a contrast so sharp it was almost cruel. Steve had never looked at her that way, never spoken her name with that warmth, that pride.

For a moment, her mind drifted to Bucky and you, the loyalty he had shown you, unwavering, year after year. In the past five years, through everything, he had remained faithful, and you had accepted him fully, supporting him in ways Peggy could hardly fathom. She had never known that kind of love with Steve.

She looked down at her wrist, fingers tightening around the object from her desk. Her phone lay beside her, and she typed a short message before putting it aside. She traced the edge of the object against her wrist, whispering, “I’ll set you free.” Her voice was barely audible, fragile against the silence.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

At 2 a.m., Steve was pulled from sleep by the sound of his bedroom door opening. He sat up, irritation flashing in his eyes, ready to reprimand whoever had dared disturb him. But then he saw Natasha standing there, her face pale, eyes wide with urgency.

“Mr. President… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice tight, “but this is very urgent.”

A chill crept through him as her words seemed to hang in the air. He got out of bed and followed her, feeling as though he was moving through a thick fog.

Moments later, Steve found himself staring down at Peggy in the bathtub, her body pale and lifeless, the water around her a deep, dark red. His knees buckled, and he collapsed beside her, reaching for her, his arms wrapping around her as if he could somehow bring her back.

“Peggy…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He tightened his hold on her, feeling the unbearable weight of the silence that filled the room.

The twins, William and Charles, stood just outside, tears streaming down their faces, unable to fully grasp the scene before them. They looked at their mother, broken and cold, the life drained from her, and their father, on his knees, clutching her like a lifeline.

Natasha cleared her throat, eyes averted as she whispered, “Mr. President… we should make an announcement.”

Steve’s head snapped up, his eyes sharp and commanding. “Stop.” The firmness in his voice was absolute, leaving no room for argument.

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Tell the public that the First Lady has collapsed from exhaustion,” Steve said coldly. “She was tireless, supporting me without a moment’s rest. Now… she’s taking time to recover.”

The twins’ eyes widened, shock and betrayal mingling with their grief.

“Dad?!” William’s voice cracked, staring at his father in disbelief.

“It would be disastrous for this country to know that the First Lady took her own life,” Steve continued, his tone as unyielding as steel. “It would tarnish her memory. She’d be seen as unstable, weak. This is for her legacy, for the image she worked so hard to uphold.”

The twins shook their heads, voices choked with pain. “No. Mother isn’t like that. She’s not some unstable woman.”

Steve knelt beside them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, his voice soft but unyielding. “Boys, trust me. This is for the best. We want people to remember your mother’s dedication, her strength. Not… this.”

He pulled them into an embrace, eyes glistening as he held them close, as if his grip alone could silence their pain. Over their shoulders, his gaze drifted back to Peggy’s lifeless form, his expression unreadable. For a split second, a small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he thought, Her sacrifice won’t be forgotten.

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[amazingmaeve]

PERFECT FAMILY

homelander x fem!reader (+ryan)

summary — Homelander wants to find the perfect mother for ryan since the incident with becca happened. just someone to take of ryan when he’s out or when he’s working. just a maternal for ryan. maybe someone to comfort him as well and that’s where he finds you.

warnings — dark fic, Homelander being a warning in itself, stalking, kidnapping, kinda Stockholm (it’s dark), violence, blood, angst, a bit of fluff

word count —

authors note — I legit just had this idea when I was reading @noforkingclue s fic. so go read that one because it’s amazing

homelander masterlist | the boys masterlist

“Now I know Ryan, no one can replace your mom, your mom is your mom,” Homelander stated as looked down at his son who stood next to him. “But I need someone, maternal, to take care of you when I’m away, even for your stability and mine,” He says as Ryan looked somewhat hopeful. “Now if you don’t want me to find you a new mom I won’t it’s your choice son,” He says putting his hand on his shoulder.

Ryan looked down thinking about it, he loved his mom, more than anything and she was gone, because of him. But if he could have someone who could love him at least half the way she did he would love that. Someone to just care for him like a mother can.

It could be a second chance for him. Even if he knew she wasn’t his real mom, she could love him like one. Treat him like one and he wanted that choice, someone other than Homelander to be a parent.

“Now what do you think buddy,” Homelander questions after a few minutes of silence.

“I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Me too buddy.”

“I’ve been hired by the Homelander to teach his son,” You question with a bewildered expression on your face. You stared at the woman sitting in front of you.

Yes you were a teacher but the kids you usually taught went to the school you were in at this moment. But no one could really blame your shock, you were just a normal teacher at a normal school who taught normal kids. This was on a whole different playing field.

Of course you’ve heard about Homelanders son, everyone on planet earth has probably heard about him. Ryan was his name you learned. Of course you felt a great deal of sadness for the young boy, it seemed like he didn’t have a mother and his father was a little on the crazy side from what you’ve heard. But could you really handle this?

This boy was the strongest kid in the world, and his dad was the strongest man in the world.

Anyone would be nervous to even think about accepting this offer. You were leaning more on the yes side, due to the fact that they were going to pay you a lot of money and since a teachers salary wasn’t much you didn’t really have a choice.

But some other reason inside you felt bad for Ryan, you wanted to help every kid that needed it, even if he was the strongest supe kid. You were also kind of afraid to say no to Homelander, you’ve read stories about what happened to people who said no to him and it made something burn inside of your stomach and your whole body tense up in fear.

“So what do you say, Miss. Y/L/N,” The woman in front of you asked as you looked around at the class from.

“I’ll take it,” You accepted tentatively.

And before you even knew it you signed your life away that moment and you probably could not do anything to reverse it in any way.

Today was your first day to teach Ryan and your first day actually meeting him in fact. You hadn’t even met Homelander who was his father, it seemed like if you were going to teach his son he would’ve at least wanted to call you.

But nope. Nothing. Not even an email.

You shook off those worries and just tried to put a smile on. You didn’t want to worry Ryan and wanted to help him and his journey on learning

Taking a look at yourself in the mirror you put your hair in a ponytail before shaking your hair and pulling the hair tie out and shaking your head and running your fingers through your hair trying to sort it out. You decided that having your hair down was best for you. You dusted off the pencil skirt you were wearing and tried to straighten the lavender blouse you had on. You didn’t even know why you were caring about what you looked like this was going to be just like teaching the kids at the school. But just one on one.

But you knew the reason why you were so nervous. Homelander, his father. You didn’t want to have one single thing wrong with you that would tick him off and him deciding to kill you right there. You were pretty sure that Homelander was a fickle guy due to who he was and to the public. But you hoped that his son being there would stop him from doing anything rash but you didn’t put anything past him.

“Fuck it I look fine,” You whispered to yourself in the mirror before grabbing you bag that had everything you needed in it.

Getting in the car you put the address into your phone and started driving to Homelanders place. Which you had to agree was weird. You thought he lived at Vought and his son would live there as well but no from the looks of it and where you were driving it looked like he had a house in a suburban neighborhood.

The house looked just like any house on a family sitcom. It wasn’t too big, or too small, it was normal. That ticked a red flag in your head because there wasn’t anything normal about Homelander. You were pretty sure he had people dressing him and cooking for him every night and he was living here in this normal house.

You had this horrible feeling in your stomach but you pushed those feelings out as you sat in your car for a few minutes before exiting the house and walking up to the door where you froze for another few minutes. You took a deep breath before pressing your button to the doorbell.

Rubbing your wrist, you tried calming your nerves but it wasn’t working. You had every right to be nervous. This man was the most powerful man in the world and by default the most dangerous man in the world. You didn’t want to do anything to tick him off.

He seemed very high maintenance and wanted everything to be perfect so it confused you why he asked for you to teach his son. You weren’t the smartest teacher out there, hell you weren’t even the smartest person in the school you taught. The question kept running through your brain as you stared at the door waiting.

Suddenly the door opened to reveal the man himself. Homelander. Standing there in his suit with that same smile plastered on his face as he saw you. Luckily he didn’t seem angry so maybe luck was on your side today.

“Ms. Y/L/N I was worried you weren’t going to show up,” Homelander says and you look at him confused. You didn’t think you were late.

“Oh I’m sorry sir I didn’t realize I was late,” You say taking a look at your phone that you pulled from your pocket and you were only a few minutes late. Well you weren’t wrong about the high maintenance.

“It’s only a few minutes as long as you don’t make a habit out of it,” Homelander waved it off as he opened the door wider so you could walk in. You didn’t know what he meant by that. Were you seriously going to have to be here on time every fucking day.

Walking in the house it seemed brand new which seemed about right, since you thought that Homelander lived in the Vought tower. He must’ve just bought it for him and his son, and you were a bit curious about Ryan's mother and where she was. Nothing in the news stated anything about her and that made a child run up your spine about the possibilities of what could’ve happened to her.

Back on the topic of the house. It was perfectly clean and you wondered if a kid even lived in this house. You’ve been around kids all ages and they weren’t the cleanest so to say you were kind of dumbfounded at this.

“Ryan come to the kitchen please,” Homelander called out as the two of you stepped in the kitchen. You put your bag on the table looking at him to make sure you weren’t angering him at all. “He’ll be down here in a second, he’s been waiting for this all week, jittering like fucking cokehead,” He said leaning against the kitchen counter.

The language threw you off. You didn’t take Homelander for someone who swore at all and you shook off the shock and gave him a smile.

“Well that’s good, you don’t see it that often, kids wanting to learn,” You say, wringing your fingers in front of your stomach, the pit in your stomach was still there but it was shrinking as the conversation kept going.

“That’s all what I’m about, wanting Ryan to get a good education so that he can be successful in life, that’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Homelander told you, putting his hands behind his back. “…..And to be honest he wasn’t the only one looking forward to this meeting,” He gave you another smile showing off his pearly whites.

“Oh that’s a nice thing to hear as well,” You say bashfully, giving a smile.

He wasn’t lying when he said he'd been waiting all this time for you to show up. Ryan was wanting to see you as much as he was. It took them some time for them to pick you out from all the other teachers and you were perfect for him and Ryan. You were in your late 20s, no boyfriend, no kids, no family you talk to, and not many friends, or at least he thought that. You don’t go out much. And to top it off you had that maternal side of you, working in a school, you helped kids all the time and knew exactly what they wanted. It also helped for Homelander that you were an attractive woman.

Homelander knew that it was going to take some convincing to get Ryan on board for this but surprisingly Ryan was genuinely excited to meet you, for you to take care of both of them. Homelander need that, someone to help him with this and everything, someone he could come to and someone who would caress his cheek and run her fingers through his hair. Someone who would hug him and let him cuddle against her chest. Someone to just coddle him.

Ryan needs a mother to essentially do that as well, someone who could help him when he’s sad or mad or just confused. Homelander wasn’t good at that stuff so needed someone. Someone that could be at their beck and call. Someone who could help Ryan with school and read him bedtime stories so that he could fall asleep. Or when he had a nightmare and needed someone to talk to.

You were that person. You were that perfect person for them. It would just take some time and convincing.

Ryan came running down the stairs as you said that sentence and ran up to stand in front of his dad who put his hand on his shoulders as you gave both of them a soft smile.

“Hey Ryan it’s nice to meet you,” You say, holding your hand out for him to shake.

You were expecting the boy to shake your hand but he ignored your hand and wrapped his arms around your body giving you a hug. You were a bit gobsmacked at this. No kid has ever been that affectionate. But you did reciprocate the hug not wanting to upset him. He was just a kid.

“Told you he has been waiting for this,” Homelander says, giving you a smug smile this time as you caress the back of the kid's head.

“Sorry just a bit shocked no kids ever acted like this,” You say as Ryan still had his head buried in your stomach.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Ryan muttered into your stomach as it was muffled by the fabric of your blouse.

“Ok come on Ryan she’s here for a reason,” Homelander intervened putting his hands back on his shoulders beginning to tug him back but Ryan resisted as his arms stayed locked around you muttering a no into your stomach.

Surprisingly you weren’t scared, he wasn’t hugging you tightly and you weren’t a psychologist but it seemed like he had some attachment issues but you didn’t want to judge too soon. You weren’t privy to his background and didn’t want to make him feel bad for this. To be honest, the maternal side of you was melting from this, wanting to comfort the boy as he stood hugging you.

Meanwhile Homelander was in awe. It didn’t even take you 5 minutes for you to break. You were so perfect for the both of them that made a pang in his heart as he watched you hug Ryan. Although he also couldn’t help a pang of jealousy coursing through him watching you comfort his son and deep down wished it was him you were comforting.

Mentally shaking his head. The time will come, he thought.

“Ryan come on,” Homelander says, giving another tug on the boy he could use his whole strength but he didn't want to hurt Ryan or you for that matter. But he didn’t budge.

You put your hand on top of Homelanders' gloved one trying to reassure him that this was okay. Deep down you this would cause some problems in the future but you didn’t honestly give two fucks at the moment. Homelander tensed as you did that, not expecting but loving it.

“Hey Ryan, why don’t you let go of me,” You whispered, running our fingers through his hair.

“Don’t want you to leave,” Ryan muttered into your stomach again as a confused expression came across your face. You weren’t even here for two minutes and he was worried you were gonna leave. Yeah you knew there was something wrong, this boy was getting attached to your hip and you knew deep down that something must’ve happened to his mother, for him to be attached this much.

“I’m not gonna leave, not yet,” You muttered as you felt him move a bit against your stomach. “I promise and when I do leave, I’ll be coming back tomorrow don’t worry,” You tried reassuring the boy and was a little worried when he gave you a little squeeze at the mention of leaving. But eventually he let up on the hugging.

“Promise,” Ryan says looking up at you.

“Promise, even ask your dad I’m pretty sure if I don’t show up, he’ll do something about it,” You say waving your hand at Homelander.

“Don’t worry buddy I promise you she’s going to be coming here every day,” Homelander promised, giving his shoulders a squeeze. You didn’t want to intervene and say you wouldn’t be coming here on the weekends.

“Okay,” Ryan says, giving you a smile, removing his arms from around you and moving to sit at the kitchen table, where your stuff was.

“Okay buddy lets get started….”

For the next few weeks, everything was going amazing. Ryan was amazing at the stuff you were teaching him and you were proud that he was this smart bright kid. But he was getting more and more attached to you.

To the point that you had to stay a few hours extra, past your planned time and coming over on the weekends as well. Homelander didn’t stop it, he loved it and you knew it but you didn’t know why at the moment. Luckily you didn’t have many friends so you could spend time helping this kid. Plus you liked spending time with both of them and to be honest you were beginning to like coming here everyday, being greeted by Homelander and teaching Ryan. Homelander usually stayed in watching the both of you and you paid no mind, so you didn’t see the longing look in his eyes as you taught his son math.

On his side he was beginning to lose patience and wanted you with the both of them at all times and considered it as he watched over you at nights. He could easily do it. You left your window locked since you lived on an apartment building, you didn’t have any security system, hell you didn’t even own a fucking dog. Honestly he thought your nativity was adorable, you needed someone like him to protect you. He just couldn’t wait to have you in his arms so you could take care of him and Ryan.

You on the other hand were trying to gather up the courage to ask Homelander about what happened to Ryan's mom since his attachment to you became bigger and bigger. It was also quite worrying because Homelanders' attachment was becoming bigger and bigger as well. He was more subtle at least.

Although you weren’t scared of him or Ryan. They hadn’t done anything to indicate that you should be scared. So at the moment you just stayed in your schedule as the times staying with Ryan increased more and more.

On this particular Friday everything was normal as you came to the house but Homelander left in the middle of your session. Muttering something about work. That worried you, you didn’t know what’s going on, and how long you should stay here with Ryan but you tried to brush off the worrying not wanting to worry the boy out.

By the time it hit 6 o’clock you were still worried about Homelander and where he was. But Ryan didn’t know anything which helped you, he didn’t need to worry about his dad.

“I’m hungry,” Ryan stated as the two of you sat and watched tv.

The session had ended an hour ago and the two of you decided to watch tv so that you could help your nerves and Ryan would get a break from school work. But as soon as the tv started the both of you started talking and it felt so normal talking to this boy as though he was a part of your life.

“Oh I could make you something to eat,” You say getting off the couch and he followed you as you entered the kitchen again moving around so that you were in the kitchen as Ryan sat on the chairs that were in front of the kitchen counter. “What do you want,” You question, giving him a smile.

“Mac and Cheese,” He answered with a smile of his own, after some pondering.

You were quite nervous, you didn’t know if Homelander stocked any food here since you barely ate here and Ryan only ate snacks. But when you opened the fridge and cabnits everything was there and you let out a sigh of relief as you started the dinner and began to talk to Ryan casually.

“So Ryan who usually does the cooking here,” You question as you got the noodles ready on the stove, boiling at the point you wanted them.

“Well dad usually gets a chef here since he doesn’t know how to cook and the chef only comes when dads here,” Ryan answered as he watched you cooking. He began to think of his mom and became sad. He sometimes has thoughts about her and he doesn’t like it.

“Hey Ryan what’s wrong,” You asked worriedly, putting your hands on his and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumb for comfort.

“Nothing,” He sniffed, not wanting to cry in front of you. Homelander told him showing his emotions was weak and he especially should do that in front of you as that would make him appear weak.

“Come on bud you can tell me,” You cooed, giving his arm a squeeze. “You don’t have to hide your feelings in front of me Ryan,” You reassured him.

“It’s just my mom,” He muttered as a tear slid down his cheek and you gave him a look of sympathy as you wiped the tear from his cheek giving his forehead a kiss. You definitely knew something went down with his mom.

“That’s fine thinking about your parents especially ones you don’t see anymore can make you sad and make you want to cry and you should, crying isn’t bad Ryan it's good that you can. It shows that you are strong,” You told him in a soft tone,

“But dad said crying in front of people makes you seem weaker,” Ryan says, looking at you with wet cheeks.

Walking around the counter and wrapping your arms around him and he immediately receives it, tightly hugging you and definitely not hugging at his full strength. You ran your hand down his back, comforting him as he sobbed into your chest. You had a feeling Homelander had these values as he seemed like one of those men. You weren’t mad as you know these were taught to him but you were going to have to talk to him about it. Because it wasn’t good for Ryan to hide his emotions especially from his dad.

“Don’t worry Ryan, everything's going to be fine,” You mutter. “I’ll talk to him, don't worry,” You tell him. “And as for your mom she’s always going to be there for you she’s going to be all around you especially in here,” You say putting your hand on his head.

You felt Ryan nodd into your chest as he was still sitting in the chair and you were standing and leaning down. It was uncomfortable but it didn’t matter at the moment.

“Okay,” You say, pulling him away from your chest. “Now let’s get your food ready so you can fill your tummy,” You say, giving him a chipper smile wanting to change the subject. He nodded as he wiped his tears and you walked around the kitchen counter and checked on the noodles.

The rest of the night was spent eating dinner and talking to Ryan about multiple things as his moods got more and more happier and you didn’t really care that Homelander was gone now. You were having an amazing time with Ryan and you definitely weren’t going to leave him all alone here with no one around.

After dinner the both of you sat on the couch again and started to watch tv again and Ryan eventually ended up with his head in your lap as you watched tv. He eventually fell asleep a few minutes after he laid down on your thighs. You began to run your fingers through his hair as you soothed him into sleep. You didn’t want to move him to his bed as that would wake him and you didn’t have the heart to do that at the moment so you just kept caressing and watching the tv waiting for Homelanders arrival.

When Homelander eventually came home it was around midnight and you were still up and to be honest he was surprised that stuck around but he knew that you cared for Ryan and that made his chest fill up with warmth especially when he watched you with Ryan’s head in your lap. God he wanted you so bad but he needs to practice patience.

“Hey Y/N,” Homelander greeted you at the couch and gave you a smile.

“Hey Homelander,” You greeted him with a tight smile. After calling him sir for so many times he told you to call him Homelander and you caved.

“Sorry I made you stay so late. I had an emergency at Vought and had to do some work,” Homelander apologized as he tightened his fist behind his back. He was initially sorry but now he was happy because he could witness you helping his son.

“It’s fine me and Ryan had fun,” You say as you stop moving your hand. “Speaking of him, we should get him to bed it is midnight,” You say.

Homelander melted at the words you said. We. We should get him to bed. As if you were already a family and it made him so happy that you may be coming around to this and you may want this as well.

He nodded and the two of you successfully got Ryan to bed without waking him and you tucked him into his covers and gave him a kiss on the forehead and left the room to greet Homelander in the hall who still had this smile on his face. But you tried to keep your mind on the target, you wanted to talk to him about Ryan.

“You got any wine,” You asked with a tired tone and you were tired but you needed some relaxation.

Homelander chuckled and gave you a curt nod and even though he didn’t drink he knew you had the occasional wine here and there.

Once you got the wine you chugged it down in one instance and Homelander knew he was going to have to do something about that once he got you under the roof. Ryan didn’t need a drunk for a mother and even though you don’t do it often, he knows how addictions work.

“I also need to talk to you about something,” You say, wiping your mouth after chugging the wine like it was your last drink.

“Ask away,” Homelander says, pointing his hand at you, giving you the floor.

“Ryan told me something today that worried me and I wanted to talk to you about it,” You say and Homelander raised an eyebrow at the mention of his son. “He said you didn’t like it when he cried in front of him and other people and I know I’m not his mother or guardian in any way but I know what makes kids turn into angry adults and this is one of the reasons why boys turn into angry men,” You say sternly. “I know you’re his dad and I would normally not even bring this up but I just want to help him and you for a matter of fact and if you want to fire me that’s fine I just wanted to give you a piece of advice,” You say and immediately take a deep breath from all the words you just said.

Homelander looked at you flabbergasted at what you had told him. He didn’t think you had the guts to stand up to him and honestly seeing you angry was definitely a turn on for him. Even though he does think these values, if he wants you to even think about staying with him once he does get you under this roof he has to try it with you. He needs to take your advice even if he doesn’t like it, and he knows once you become a more permanent figure in the house he’s going to need some of your opinions.

“I know I know,” Homelander runs his glove hands over his face feeling out of energy. “I honestly didn’t think about it when I said it just came out,” He mutters looking down at the floor feeling kind of ashamed as though you were disappointed in him and he would hate you being disappointed in him.

“Hey it’s okay I know these things are taught and I’m glad you see these things,” You say reassuring him, also happy he didn’t burn you alive. You cautiously bring your hand to his cheek and begin to rub your thumb along his cheek bone trying to comfort him.

Luckily for your life it seemed like he enjoyed it as he leaned into your hand and slowly closed his eyes at the comfort of your hand. You felt amazing and he immediately preened under your touch and by the sound of your heart beating a little faster he knew you liked it as well.

“You can stay the night if you want since it’s so late,” Homelander whispers, turning his head, giving your palm a kiss, making your whole body heat up under his lips.

“That’s nice of you and I’ll take you up on that offer,” You say, giving him a genuine smile. “But only if you are comfortable with that I would hate to make you or Ryan uncomfortable,” You say fiddling with your wine glass.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Homelander laughs. “Ryan would love to have you here as well as I so don’t worry about our comfort,” He says, finding it cute that you were so worried about his and Ryan's comfort, it also filled his whole body with happiness.

“It’s probably a good idea that I stay here, you have no idea what kind of creeps are out there at this time at night and I wouldn’t want to take a chance with that,” You say, knowing what would probably happen if you did leave and you didn’t like the ending of that story.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” Homelander states as he stands up and starts walking towards the stairs expecting you to follow him. Expectedly you do as he thinks and follow him up the stairs.

“So anything new interesting going on in your life,” Homelander questions once you reach the top of the stairs.

“Eh not much I don’t go out much, definitely not as much as the people in my age group, that probably explains why I don’t have many friends,” You nervously laugh shaking your head. It’s true you don’t have many friends since you don’t live your life that exciting.

“I get what you're saying, I didn't have many friends when I was younger,” Homelander lies partially. He didn’t have any friends but that’s because Vought was keeping him as a fucking lab rat and he didn’t have any chances to make any friends.

“It’s probably due to my fear of making connections with people, too afraid to let them in,” You say as the both of you trail across the carpet to the guest room, keeping your voices down for Ryan. He gives you a weird look at what you just said and to be honest you would as well. “That’s what my therapist says at least,” You chuckle running your hands over your face as you feel fatigue creep inside your bones.

Homelander makes an ‘ohhh’ face but internally he knew he would have to do something about that. You didn’t need a therapist, especially now since you have him in your life. All that therapist would do is try to keep you away from him and that’s just not what he needs at the moment. He just needs you with him and Ryan, if he had that it would be happiness that he’s wished for, for his entire life.

“Anyways here’s the room, there’s a shower in there and some extra clothes for you to sleep in,” Homelander opens the door as he gives you a look over knowing you couldn't sleep in your clothes.

“Thanks again,” You say, trying not to show how confused you were by the fact he has extra clothes here.

“I’ll be off now, I’ll see you in the morning,” Homelander says his goodbyes, giving you a wave and strolling off to his room but not before you could say anything.

“Goodnight Homelander,” You say.

“John,” He says, keeping his back towards you.

“Huh,” You turn around not understanding what he meant.

“My name it’s John,” He whispers, hoping you heard it and by the extra skip in your heartbeat you did.

“Goodnight John,” You whispered.

“Goodnight.”

After the two of you bid your good nights you both made your way to your respective rooms where the both of you were doing totally different things.

You immediately took off your clothes and made your way to the shower and you were shocked nonetheless seeing a plethora of shampoos and body washes. You tried not to be freaked out that it was the same ones you use, It’s probably a coincidence a lot of people use this you thought to yourself before turning on the shower and making it hot. It was specifically cold tonight and you just wanted to relax.

Once you enter the hot shower your body immediately relaxes as the hot water drips down your body and you hum slowly loving the comfort from this. After a few minutes of just standing there under the water you started to bathe yourself, starting with your hair.

Homelander on the other hand had other plans for what he was doing. He sat his body down on the perfectly neat bad that he almost never sleeps in. Compound V does that to you. He has his body facing towards the room you're sleeping in. He honestly had to have so much self control on not following you in there when he wanted to so badly. With his hands on his knees he watches you undress and get in the shower.

It’s not like it’s something he hasn’t seen before, he goes to your apartment every night after Ryan goes to sleep just watching you do your mundane task. Obviously he got hard from all of this, especially when you took your clothes off or when you touched yourself to relieve stress.

His eyes clothes when you start humming feeling his body start to lock in comfort that he just wishes he could lay down on your lap whilst you coddle him. To comfort him and give him praise. But he knows you're warming up to him as he notices every time you come over you’re wearing some that accentuates your chest so that he would always notice. Your body temperature always rises when he’s around and your heart rate spikes when he’s standing next to you and he loves it. He just loves it so much and he knows how it feels since he feels the same way when he’es around you.

Once you get out of the show you wrap a towel around your body and start to dry yourself and make your way into the room and put on some underwear and an oversized shirt. You don’t even want to know where he got this shit from. You’re just so tired that once your head immediately hits the pillow you're out like a light. But some of it was due to the wine you have to admit.

After about an hour into your sleep Homelander makes his way into your room and he knows you're asleep by the way you snore quietly into the pillow. He notices that you left the light on and he knows that you have the tv on at your home and he wonders if the dark scares you. He shakes those thoughts out of your head as he comes to stand next to the bed and brings his now ungloved hand to caress your cheek.

Luckily for him your body is facing him so he has more leeway. His thumb gently strokes your cheekbone as you sleep and he’s noticed that you were a deep sleeper from the first time he’s entered your apartment. Homelander just loves everything about you even though he thinks humans are beneath him, you don’t count as one of those. You’re special.

Leaning down gently he presses his lips to your forehead. He makes an exit out of the room knowing the next time you sleep here it would be in his bed one way or the other.

The moment you wake up you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth before looking through the drawers and finding that there were some jeans and you immediately thanked god as you put them on and made your way down the stairs knowing it was only 9 o’clock in the morning. Luckily you didn’t have to teach today which caused some stress to exit your body.

Your stomach was growling from hunger and you knew you had to eat something and while you were at it you could make something for John and Ryan as well to thank them for letting you stay here.

Once you got the pancakes ready someone in front of the kitchen counter said. “Hello,”

You jump and immediately turn around to see Homelander standing there with a grin etched onto his face as he watches you cook.

“God John you scared the absolute shit out of me,” You let out a deep breath as he gives you this warm look that makes your body heat up. You’ve always thought he was attractive but you can’t help the ways he makes your heart skip a beat.

“Sorry once you woke up, that woke me up and I came down here wondering what you were doing,” Homelander softly says and you give him a confused look. “Super hearing and a very light sleeper,” He says pointing to his eyes and you have a look of realization on your face.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here and what other way to thank you by making you and Ryan breakfast,” You rush out not wanting to make him mad but in reality nothing you did could ever make him mad at you.

“Don’t worry, it’s sweet that you thought of it and I know Ryan will love it, he usually wakes up around this time so, perfect timing,” Homelander says clapping his hands. “So how’d you sleep last night,” He questions.

“Amazing, the bed was so comfortable that I’m kinda upset that I have to sleep on my own mattress tonight,” You laugh as you take a bite out of the pancake.

Homelander subtly frowned that he forgot that you weren’t going to be here tonight and suddenly he felt his heart race at the thought of that. But on the other hand he was glad that you didn’t want to leave the house, it showed that you were comfortable around him and in his house. He was going to have to move the date of his plan soon because he was going crazy at the thought of you not being here for him or for Ryan.

“Well you’re more than welcome to stay another night, and it makes me happy to know that you feel comfortable here,” Homelander says.

“I just- I don’t know it’s just something about this place and about you and Ryan that makes this place so homey,” You tell him fiddling with your fingers.

“You know that makes me really happy to hear,” Homelander says with a chuckle, making you smile at him.

Suddenly you hear Ryan come running down the stairs and that makes you break out in a grin as he comes into the kitchen with a huge grin on your face.

“You’re still here,” Ryan says with happiness written all over his face alongside the huge smile on his lips. He comes up and wraps his tiny arms around your waist giving you a squeeze and you wince a little. When he usually hugs you, he’s gentle but sometimes he forgets his own strength and squeezes a bit too hard. But it never caused any long term damage and you could handle it since he was so happy to see you.

“Of course I am buddy I would never leave without saying goodbye to you,” You say leaning down and kissing his forehead while putting your arms around his shoulders giving him a squeeze too, not as hard as his but a squeeze nonetheless. “But I am going to have to go home soon you know that right,” You say not wanting to lead the poor kid on that you’re staying here forever.

“No I don’t want you to go,” Ryan sternly mumbled into your stomach as you felt his shoulders stiffen and you looked up and saw Homelander with a melancholy expression on his face and you frown in confusion.

“I know Ryan but you know you’ll see me soon, I’m not going to up and leave you forever,” You try to reassure him but giving his head a light caress.

“But why can’t you just stay here, it would be easier for you, and you wouldn’t have to drive here everyday and-and you wouldn’t be worried about the time,” Ryans words stumbled out of his mouth.

You didn’t know what to say to that, it was still obvious that Ryan wanted you here all the time and now it was bigger than the first day you met him and your heart started to race as the thought that you let this happen. You didn’t want to hurt Ryan, he’s such a sweet boy and you never want him to be sad but you can’t just break these boundaries. Even though deep down you know you’ve already broken a lot of boundaries.

“Ryan sweetie I know you don’t want me to leave but-,” You say but you were interrupted by Ryan.

“No don’t leave, please just don’t leave, dad make her stay,” Ryan says as he starts to cry into your stomach and you feel your throat start to dry up and your eyes begin to water.

His arms tightened a bit more and you held in a whimper not wanting to upset Ryan even more, you knew he didn’t want to hurt you so you just stood there and caressed his hair trying to remain calm.

“I know you’re upset Ryan and and you just- your dad can’t-,” You began to say again but this time you were interrupted by the man you were talking about and you were relieved at first but once the words came out of his mouth your heart rate increased.

“Okay I’ve had enough of this I didn’t want this to be today but it can’t go on like this anymore, you’re staying here and that’s final,” Homelander sternly said pointing this finger at you as you stood there agape at what he just said.

You could feel yourself stiffen and begin to sweat a bit as nervousness began to set and you swallowed as you tried to keep your calm but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat. Suddenly there was this knot in your stomach, the type of know that made you want to throw up and pass out, but with Ryan’s vice grip around you couldn’t even move.

“Homelander- John I can’t just stay here I don’t live here,” You rush out as you try to keep your breathing calm.

“Well know you do,” Homelander snapped. “I know this might be upsetting for you at first but soon you’ll love it here and I know you love it here when you come here everyday so why not just stay here,” He says trying to calm you down as he hears your heart increase and your breathing become more shallow.

“Because I don’t fucking live here John,” You snap giving him an angry look as Ryan nuzzles into your stomach and you can tell he’s starting more anxious due to the fighting but right now his father was being unreasonable.

“Hey you watch your language in front of my son,” Homelander snaps at and you swore you could see his glow red for a second and then you felt your stomach fall to your ass as your hands began to shake while you were caressing Ryan’s head.

You tried to say something but nothing came out as your breathing became more and more erratic as the reality of your situation began to flood your head. You felt a few tears roll down your face as you bit your lip trying to keep your sobs in. Breathing in and out you tried to calm yourself down but it wasn’t helping. When panic attacks usually happen to you, doing that usually helps but it’s not.

Homelander closed his eyes as he listened to your uneven breathing. This isn’t how he wanted to do this but, Ryan was freaking out and it was going to happen sooner or later so he just figured that why it not me now. He knew it would take time for you to settle but soon it would be like paradise for all three of you, he knew it.

“Okay Ryan bud,” Homelander came around the kitchen island to put his hand on Ryan’s other shoulder to get his attention as you looked up at him with fear in your eyes. “Why don’t go outside and play for a bit while me and Y/N talk okay,” He says, squeezing his shoulder.

“Why,” Ryan grumbled into your stomach and you closed your eyes as you felt Homelanders hand run down your arm.

“We just need to talk and situate everything,” Homelanders said. “Don’t worry she’s not leaving you can count on it,” He says as he gives you a look. Ryan doesn’t move and Homelander sighs. “Isn’t that right Y/N you’re not going to leave,” He says and Ryan looks up at you.

“Uh yeah,” You say as a tear trails down your cheek you put your hand on Ryan’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, I'm staying,” You say with a tremble in your voice.

Ryan nods and gives you one last squeeze before running out. You rub your sides as you try to keep calm. You stand completely still as Homelander approaches you and puts his hands on your cheeks wiping the tears. You let out a little whimper not knowing what he was going to do.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you, I would never hurt you,��� Homelander says at least not on purpose he thinks. “I know this must be hard to deal with but trust me when everything falls into place you are going to LOVE it, you won’t have to worry about anything any more,” He says giving you a pleading look.

“Homelander-Homelander-,” You stutter trying to begin your sentence but you were interrupted again by him.

“Don’t call me that, call me John,” Homelander says with annoyance coming across his features.

“John,” You begin to say. “I know it must be hard being a single dad but I-I can’t stay here,” You tremble underneath his hands as he looks at you in what you could describe as disappointment.

“Yes you can, you can stay here and take care of Ryan and take care of me, you can quit your job, you won’t have to worry about having to pay bills anymore, or about how you’re gonna eat with what money you have. You won’t have to worry about the guy who keeps fucking harassing everytime you leave your apartment. You just won’t have to worry,” Homelanders rants and your face looks as if you’ve seen a ghost. “I love you,” He whispers as he

You’ve never told him about your money problems. You never told him about your neighbor Ted who keeps flirting with you and groping you, and that information makes you stare up at him in shock. But on the other hand it feels nice to have someone wanting to take care of you, to care about you, to make sure you’re okay. Someone just to love you. You haven't been in a relationship in such a longtime that this is making you almost want to smile up at him.

“John I-I If you felt this way about me this isn’t how you go about it, you ask me on a date and then we work up to it,” You say, hesitantly raising your hand and putting your hand on his cheek giving it a gentle caress.

“I knew you weren’t going to like this but it’s a part of the risk, I need you here, and I know in due time you'll realize how right I am,” Homelander whispers as his lips hover over yours.

“I-I what about my stuff? What about my life?,” You say as the panic starts to come back.

“Don’t worry I’ll go and get it and you’ll feel like you’re just at home,” Homelander says before giving you a short peck on the lips. “Now,” He claps. “That's settled, I can finally relax and eat those pancakes that you made,” He says before sitting down.

You give him a wary look as he gives you a wink before delving into the food.

It’s been a few days since the whole Homelander kept you here and you were in denial for a bit. You thought he would send you home and that this whole thing was a prank and you could go on with your normal life.

But reality sunk in when Homelander moved your stuff into the room you slept in. You cried yourself to sleep that night not knowing what you were going to do. But you were woken up to Ryan shaking you and going on and on about how happy he was that you were here.

You didn’t want to admit it but it made you happy that Ryan was so happy to have you here but you wanted to keep a hold of your sanity, not wanting to fall into the trap. But you knew that you were going to give in, it was just a matter of time and you also knew that you didn’t mind it.

The past few days though Homelander has barely been at the house making you wonder if you could actually get away with packing and leaving. You could just run but it didn’t matter anymore, he would find you. No matter what. How could you run from him, he probably had eyes on you this whole time. You didn’t want to be on the reciprocating end of his anger so you just decided to stay put.

Another reason was Ryan. You didn’t want to leave him alone. You didn’t want him to feel abandoned by you, he’s already been through so much and you did want to help him and in the end you just decided that you would suck it up for Ryan. You would do this for him.

And he was so happy every day when he woke up he came to your room and climbed into your bed whilst resting his head on your chest. The two of you talked like it was just a normal day and you wanted it to stay like that.

But while Homelander was gone, you found yourself missing him, maybe this was Stockholm settling in but your heart was starting to ache for him. You wanted to feel his touch and feel his love, you couldn't keep that from him, he would just hear your heartbeat.

On the fifth night you were sitting on the couch with a glass of wine as you watched tv. You just put Ryan to bed a few hours ago and you wanted to catch up on some of the tv shows you watched.

Suddenly a whoosh made you jump a little and turn around to see Homelander standing there with a look of sadness on his face. His shoulders were slumped as he looked at you and it made you want to coo at him and ask what’s the matter.

“John, where’ve you been,” You say softly as he shakes his head softly and feels his heart race at the thought of you being worried.

“You’re not mad at me…. Anymore?” Homelander questions with a sullen tone and with a little pout on his lips that almost made your lips quick in a smirk but decided against it just in case that would make him angry.

“John you have to understand why I’m mad, you’d be angry if you were in my position, hell you’d probably set the house on fire if you were in my position,” You say with a tiny chuckle.

“I just don’t want to make you angry at me, I did what I did for my son and…. For you,” Homelander whispers as rounds the couch you were sitting on and points at the seat next to it subtly asking you if he could sit.

You nod and he sits next you and his body stiffens as he does not know what to do. You notice his saddened look and you feel your heart skip a beat at that.

“C’mere,” You sigh, opening your arms and the two of you lay down on the couch with Homelanders neck nuzzled into your neck and you running your fingers through his hair and he lets out a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile your other hand carefully caresses down his back trying to make him more happy and as you place a kiss on his forehead, you can feel him smile into your neck making your heart race.

His hands carefully wrap around your waist as he minds his strength while hugging you. This is heaven to him. This is what makes him happy.

As you keep running your fingers through his hair, he rubs his nose against your clavicle and gives you a few kisses there that makes a shiver run down your spine and you don’t want him to notice but he does and he gives your hip a squeeze. He knows you don’t want to admit it deep down that you like it but he can feel that you do. You love it.

“I’m glad we’re finally making progress,” Homelander whispers into your ear giving you a kiss right below it and you shake your head and chortle. “You’ll love it soon enough.”

“I just know it.”

And deep down he was right and you knew that.

[makeyoumine69]

Farewell Serenade (Memory Reboot Epilogue)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You and Patrick are finally reunited, but there are still so many secrets the two of you have to unravel, and some of them could be dangerous, especially when the echoes of the past are still haunting you like ghosts.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Tainted love vibes, blood kink, oral sex, penetrative sex, body worship, hand jobs, anal fingering, cum shot, spanking, marking, teasing and humiliating, dirty talk and slurs, pet names, praise kink, dark themes, angst, hurt/comfort, obsession, self harm, mental issues, Patrick and reader are switches. I might have forgotten something because this chapter is long, so forgive me if I really did.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 14k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: VØJ, Asketa — Farewell Serenade; Vowl.,Sace — 2000; FM-84,Ollie Wride — Running in the Night.

𝐀/𝐍: Hello everyone! I don't even know what to say except that I will miss this story so much, but it will always be in my heart. I want to thank everyone who supported me on this journey, I love you all!💕

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST], [CHAPTER 5].

When was the last time you traveled outside of America? You didn't really remember because you never really felt the need to, but after all the stressful things that had happened in your life lately, your subconscious told you that you definitely needed a break—a reboot that would give your life a fresh start. So after the drug case was over, with the help of Vincent and your lawyer, who came to New York almost immediately when you needed them, you and Patrick didn't think much about going abroad—somewhere far away where no one could find you. And so it was that Vincent's random story about his last vacation in Germany, to Stuttgart to be exact, became the deciding factor in your choice of where to go. 

The flight to Stuttgart went as smoothly as possible, since Bateman couldn't stand anything but a private jet or the most expensive seats in first class, and although it wasn't your first time flying first class, this time it felt so different, so special and memorable. The thing that surprised you the most was that you didn't really talk much about all the shit that happened between you two. Although Patrick tried to bring it up several times, but after you asked him not to dwell on it and just enjoy the fact that the two of you were finally... Finally what? Together? 

At first this new reality was very strange and confusing.

All the negativity, anger, and despair began to disappear as you realized that happiness and the freedom to follow your own desires was the memory reboot machine you both were looking for. That only by accepting your true selves could you finally break the chains of depression that had been biting at your skin for so long.

A soft, barely perceptible breeze fanned your face and the sun shone brightly over Stuttgart, the scenery unfolding before your eyes more like a picturesque frame from a romance movie than reality. Even after spending several days in Germany, you couldn't believe that all these things around you were not a dream, but your new life. The villa you stayed in was absolutely amazing, as it had two floors and a huge outdoor terrace with a large pool—Patrick enjoyed swimming in it so much that one day he told you he was going to buy this villa. At first, you didn't believe him until he took you to the bank to close the deal. Was that necessary? Was it an act to show off his wealth? You never really asked, because you were taught that sometimes asking too many questions could only complicate your life, and you didn't want to spiral and start the cycle that you managed to break.

Sitting on the edge of the pool, you splashed the water with your legs. The sun reflected off the water, making it shimmer as if someone had poured a bucket of little diamonds into it, and little ripples appeared here and there as Bateman swam around, ass naked, and you couldn't really remember how you'd imagined seeing something like that, nor did you imagine that one day things that happened in real life would outshine your fantasies.

"What are you thinking about?" Patrick's velvety voice stopped your train of thoughts, and before you could even react you felt him grab your ankle—he was half in the water, hot and pumped up after his heavy workout. "You seem...worried?"

You frowned, but then chuckled as he tickled your inner thigh. "Nothing special," you replied, looking at him and leaning down to stroke his wet hair. "It's just... don't you think it was a bit imprudent to buy this house?"

The man chuckled. "Why not?"

"Patrick," you cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to concentrate on what you were about to say. "You don't have to pretend...you don't have to throw your money around like you're trying to buy everything and everyone...you don't have to do any of that...not with me."

Bateman didn't say anything, his prominent eyebrows knitted together, and you already knew what that meant—he was already overthinking, overreacting, overstepping his own emotional boundaries.

"Hey," you tried to pull him out of his stupor. "I didn't mean..."

"It's my money," Patrick suddenly blurted out, still frowning. "And I can do whatever I want with it."

God, this man always made trouble out of nothing.

But he was right. After all, his money was his to spend, and you could only give him advice or opinions he would never really care about—such an attitude only irritated him—having the last word was something he couldn't live without. He was addicted to being in control of the situation, of the person he was interacting with. It felt as if he had the chance to control the whole world, he would, but who were you to judge him when you had already promised yourself never to try to change or fix him. Just because Bateman never really needed someone to fix him, he needed someone to accept him for who he was while he tried to fix himself.

"You're not listening? Again?"

Patrick let go of your leg and swam away from where you were sitting. Sometimes his childish behavior really got on your nerves, although you imagined you were in his place, acting like a fucking teacher trying to explain such basic things as being more human to a bratty kid who never really wanted to know—what it was like? Being more in touch with humanity.

"Oh, God," you almost cussed, splashing water with your foot. "Don't be like that! I didn't say anything..." a palpable irritation erupted from your chest. "Well, maybe I did, but you know I didn't mean to insult you."

Watching him swim as smoothly as a fish in water, you gasped without even realizing it, your eyes catching every glimpse of his toned muscles, his firm ass sinking under the water, but you could still see the outline of it—you wanted to fucking get a bite of it—but the moment was probably ruined by your rather offensive remarks.

"We're not in a school," Patrick answered suddenly from a distance. "And I'm not a schoolboy to be offended," his grumbling caused a soft, barely audible chuckle to fall from your parted lips, and at some point you caught yourself thinking that you were ready to admit that you were wrong, just to end this caricature conflict. "Will you swim for once? Since the first day, you just sit on the lounge chair or something, but you never go in the water," he added, and you crossed your arms in defense. "Are you afraid of water or what?"

Don’t even start it.

"I... I don't really want to talk about it," you stammered nervously, brushing your hair, hoping he would catch your eloquent gesture and change the subject. "The scars are still fresh..."

"Scars?" He repeated your words and swam closer to you, placing himself between your open legs. "This is getting interesting."

"No-"

"Oh, yes," the man snickered amusedly, stroking the inner side of your legs with his wet hands, causing you to shiver. "You can tell me...I promise not to...uh...I promise to take it seriously."

This liar.

With a heavy sigh, you took a moment to think about whether you should have opened up to him completely or if it was not the right time. Were you really ready for this?

"When I was a kid, I almost drowned," you confessed openly, but curtly. "And, you won't believe it, but I can't even remember the last time I talked about it with anyone...because...it's not the kind of thing you want to talk about."

Patrick didn't interrupt you. He listened carefully and rested his chin on your knee. You didn't even notice how you cradled his face and stroked his cheek, then the top of his head, how his brown soft hair was soaked in water, making it look even longer than it usually did.

"Was it..." he began to speak, cautiously, as if afraid to say the wrong thing—it amazed you. "Someone's fault or..."

You shook your head. "No! It was nobody's fault... I was just a reckless kid, but after that I have a terrible phobia of anything that has to do with water."

"You don't take baths?"

Rolling your eyes, you wanted to push him under, but his cocky, boyish smile made you stop, and instead of doing what you thought would teach him a lesson, you wrapped your legs around his shoulders, pulling his closer, the man purring in return, nuzzling against your skin.

"Of course I meant open water," you almost whispered, your voice getting deeper, softer, laced with not just arousal but pure affection. "That unfortunate day I was in LA with my family and there was a storm or something...but it didn't stop me from wanting to find some starfish...I literally ran away from my parents and got into the water...before I was washed away by a huge wave."

"I never thought you were such a bratty child," Bateman murmured, grazing the sensitive flesh of your thigh, his lips sucking the little marks his teeth left. "But now I'd remember that you can be even more foolhardy than you already are."

Bastard...my bastard.

Still amazed at his unnatural concern, you bent down to peck him on the forehead, but the moment you did, you almost slipped into the water, and Patrick, instead of preventing it, only helped you to literally fall into his arms, and once you were in the water, you squealed.

"Oh, GOD!" You panicked and began to wriggle nervously in the water. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?"

To your irritation, Bateman just laughed and held you closer. "Shh, I've got you," he grinned and wrapped his hands around your waist, lifting you up a bit. "You don't have to worry when I'm around, you know?"

Reluctantly, you wrapped your arms around his strong neck and let him press you against his chest. "Really?"

"Any doubts?"

The water was so warm, but his body was much warmer, you could practically feel the tightness of his muscles as he swam to the side, still holding you close; his question was hanging heavy in the air as you didn't know what to say. Did you really feel safe in his arms? 

"Do you really care what I think?" You asked him back, your eyes wandering down to his parted lips.

"Answering a question with another question..." he whispered above your ear, his nose brushing gently, almost sensually, along your cheek. "...is a thing I hate so fucking much..." With that, Patrick grabbed your ass, his mouth so close to yours. "Have the guts to tell me you don't trust me..."

"That's not....what I wanted to say," you gasped into his lips as the two of you became more and more aroused, twirling in the water like a couple of swans. "I trust you, I really do!" 

"'But something's wrong anyway?"

"No..."

"Do you think I'll hurt you again?" Bateman asked, looking intently into your eyes, his arms wrapped around your shaking body, although you were no longer panicking. "Leave you? Fool you?"

With a loud exhale, you tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let you.  "Stop it," you replied curtly. "Stop putting words in my mouth, okay?" 

For a brief moment, the two of you just stared at each other, at your intertwined limbs, your naked flesh, the way your breath mingled in a rapid flow—you were more connected than either of you could truly imagine. But if you were about to admit it, you couldn't be so sure that Bateman felt the same way about you.

"Look, we never really talked about it," you continued after a pause. "We never talked about us."

Now it was his turn to turn away and distance himself from you, but as soon as he let you go, an icy fear paralyzed you and made you cling to his shoulders, no matter how pathetic you looked.

"For God's sake...you're not going to drown...it's a fucking pool!" Patrick's words hit you like a high-speed train, but you didn't let him go.

After a short sigh the man leaned his broad back against the wall of the pool, your hands were still on his shoulders and he didn't take them off—a good sign, you thought as you slowly and carefully squeezed his muscles. Patrick let out a shaky gasp, you smiled at his reaction, but you were still not ready to let go of the current conversation.

"Patrick," you began in the sweetest voice you could muster before gently kissing his temple. "I just want to know-"

"Know what? Do you really want me to... confess or something?" His face broke into a wry, nervous grin. "In that case, I've got some bad news for you."

Why can't he shut up for a few seconds?

Annoyed, you suddenly put your hand over his mouth, shutting him up completely, causing his eyebrows to arch in shock at your audacity. "I don't need any confessions, believe me," you muttered, pushing him harder against the marble wall behind him, completely forgetting that you were both still in the water. "I just want you to stop talking for me... and giving my words the wrong meaning. Is that too much to ask?"

When you removed your hand, you didn't really expect him to say no; you just crushed your lips against his, not even giving him a chance to react and take control back into his hands. But to be honest, Bateman didn't really struggle, on the contrary, he made a muffled sound as you sucked on his tongue, your mouth so eagerly dominating his hot one.

"Fuck," he cursed between kisses. "You're driving me crazy."

"I know," you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist under the water, his strong hands resting on the edge of the pool, watching you tilt your head back and almost immediately taking it as a call to action, leaning forward to kiss your neck. "Mhmm-we're not going to count that as a confession, are we?"

You could hear him moan softly in response, his soft lips pecking at your skin, sending tingles up your nerve endings, setting them on fire, but you did your best to keep yourself together, not wanting to give up first—not when you had another fight... or maybe this wasn't a fight at all?

Patrick didn't leave you much time to think, to breathe, to resist when his hands found their way to your body again, but this time he acted much more possessive, groping your curves with such a strong excitement as if he was doing it for the first time. Panting softly, you hugged him and pulled him closer to you so that you were literally hanging on to him with your hands and legs. The water supported both of you from underneath, giving you a strange feeling of weightlessness. It felt surreal and incredible. For a second, you stopped doing everything to just look at him, to make sure he was real. 

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked as soon as he noticed your confusion. 

Damn all the nicknames he used, as well as his ability to use them. "Nothing...just making sure everything is real," you chuckled a bit shyly. "That I'm not sleeping."

"You're not," Bateman sneered, pushing his hips against yours to grind along your pubic bone - you almost lost it. "Because I'm going to make you feel much better than you can imagine in your dreams."

"That's very arrogant of you," you teased him back, but in the next second you moaned as the man subtly slid his hand between your bodies to rub your most sensitive spot between your legs. "But I... I like it..."

A low, soft chuckle escaped his chest. He was playing with you again, but only because you let him. At least you wanted to think so—it made you less embarrassed, but after all, there was nothing wrong with being obedient to a man you thought you were in love with. Especially if he didn't mind being a little submissive for you as well. 

A bit later, when your lips were puffy from the kisses and you were both so drenched in water that you were starting to cool down even though your bodies were radiating an immense amount of heat, Bateman lifted you out of the water without saying anything and placed you on the edge of the pool while he still remained in the water.

"Huh?" You huffed and looked down at him, confused. 

"Relax," he winked and spread your legs, stroking them as if preparing you for something bigger. "Told you, I got you. Always."

Always.

That one word stuck in your mind like an engraving you never asked for, but now you couldn't even imagine your life without him: his walnut eyes, his deep baritone and all those little moles that covered his perfect body... Everything about him was too much, it was overwhelming. If you could fucking drink him up like some kind of medicine that would flow through your system, if you could become one with him in the most direct sense of the word, to know his thoughts, to understand his mind...

It was never enough—you always wanted more, but now, when he was right between your spread thighs, his mouth exploring your tender flesh, inch by inch, his lips sucking and kissing you here and there, forcing you to shiver and grab his hair to bring him closer, and he didn't protest or scold you for pulling his hair—maybe you had a mental connection, an invisible thread connecting your brains, because Patrick could literally know exactly what you wanted. He knew where to pull and where to push, everything he did felt amazing, like he was inside your head.

"Patrick...fuck...it f-feels so fucking right," you whimpered before bringing a finger to your mouth and then having to bite down on it to stifle the moans as Bateman increased the pace of his caresses, his mouth relentless and his hands holding you in place—spread out and open for him. "Oh shit, keep going...please..."

Smirking, the man let out a wet pop as he pulled away from your core to look at you. "You don't have to ask," he licked his glistening lips, savoring the taste of you on them. "Though I do like it when you beg for me."

Of course you do, slut.

You didn't say it out loud, your finger was still in your mouth as you balanced on the edge of falling apart as Patrick went down on you again, helping himself with his hands as you trembled more and more—he wanted to see you unravel under his touch, collapse right into his mouth and you were more than happy to give it to him.

"A-ahhh...Pat-Patrick...mmm-yes...keep using your mouth like that," you encouraged him, quivering and barely breathing, your teeth almost sinking into your skin from how hard you were biting your finger. "Fuck...I'm so fucking close..." you pinched your hard nipple, your legs shaking in his grip. "Mmm...I love it...a-arhhh-fucking love it so much..."

An overwhelming pulse coursed through your veins, you thought you were going to faint, but Patrick's raspy voice became your anchor to reality amidst this madness, your heartbeat pounding against your eardrums like a hammer. One second—his mouth so hot against your flesh; two seconds—you couldn't control yourself anymore as his growl sent little vibrations that pushed you over the edge and then you finally imploded, letting a shock wave crush you. Bateman didn't stop even when you grabbed his hands from being too overstimulated, as he literally drank you dry. 

"Damn it, Bateman!" You yelled, staring down at him. "Slow down... do you want to kill me or what?"

Just as you said it, the man stopped and blinked several times—there was something off about his reaction, but when you tried to pull away, he shook his head as if trying to fight the sudden delusion.

"Are you okay?" Your voice was so shaky when you asked him that, but you were really worried.

Panting, Patrick wiped his lips with the back of his hand and finally got out of the pool to hover over you, lifting your legs with a practiced motion and bending them to press against your chest. "If I wanted to kill you," he said suddenly, aligning himself with your tight opening. "I'd kill you already...I've had so many chances."

"What? W-what are you talking about..." You wanted to ask him what the hell it was, but he never let you; the man was as selfish as ever when it came to fucking you.

Bateman pressed you harder to the floor, leaning on his hands, his biceps flexing as he began to move inside you, slowly at first, but with each passing second his thrusting became harder and faster, as if he was trying to lose himself in you. There was nothing gentle about it—you were facing the whole other side of him—you could tell by the way he was grinding his hips against yours. The level of penetration was so deep that you could feel the curve of his dick brushing mercilessly against the walls of your inner channel, causing you to literally writhe under him, not really knowing if you wanted to push him back or pull him closer.

At one point, his thrusts were so painful that you had to claw at his skin, but that didn't stop him, it just made him go faster. You could hear his balls slapping against your ass with such a loud noise that it made you close your eyes in embarrassment, and you weren't usually a shy person, but... dear God, this man was like a barrel of power and you never knew when it would explode and if you would survive.

"Patrick...mhmm...so deep...fuck!" You couldn't help but moan, your legs lifted so high that they almost floated over your shoulders. "Wait..."

You tried to call out to him, but he seemed not to be listening, his brain clouded with a crimson fog of rage, violence, brutality, and God only knew what else. But here, with you, he didn't dare to hurt you the way he always loved to hurt people and it made him sick that you became his personal kryptonite and if someone dared to touch you even with a finger—he would fucking destroy that person.

"FUCK," the man cursed loudly, as if he had finally come back to reality. "Why are you like this?" Patrick snuggled against you even tighter, pinning your wrists above your head and jackhammering into you with reckless abandon. "Why do you let me... do this to you... fuck... you're so fucking... mine... that it hurts..."

"Pat!" You squealed as you felt him push too deep into you, his dick definitely hitting your belly. "I want you to... listen to me," you blurted out in a breathless voice, the words coming out like a broken record. "...and calm down. Please!"

Bateman let out a guttural growl and wrapped his hands around your neck, not squeezing it, at least not yet. Whimpering, you wanted to claw at his flesh, even though you knew he hated any marks on his perfect skin, but now, when he was about to lose his mind for sure, you thought it was the right choice. Without hesitation, you grabbed his hands that were still around your neck, almost scratching him, and he hissed, but never really stopped pounding into you.

"I love you," you blurted out abruptly, losing your own breath as you realized what you had just said, but you didn't hesitate to repeat it again, more confidently. "I love you so much that I can't even find the right words to express my feelings!"

And now you finally managed to reach out to him through the red veil of lust that clouded his consciousness—the man stopped, his eyes searching desperately for yours only to look somewhere behind you—he was shocked, frightened and speechless. 

Maybe this was not the right time, but you couldn't rewind time.

After a short pause, Bateman shook his head as if trying to wake up. "These... sentiments..." he murmured barely perceptibly, still deep inside you but not moving. "I never thought you were capable of them."

"Why? Am I inhuman?"

"No-"

"So are you," you cupped his face, his skin literally scorching your hands with its heat - he was burning from the inside out, but you didn't care. "You're more human than you think...believe me."

For a gliding second, the two of you just stared at each other as he suddenly removed your hands and pulled away from you—it all happened so fast you didn't even have time to think. One moment you were one, and the next you were lying alone, naked and soaked with water, watching the love of your life walk into the house without saying a word.

Why does he always have to be like this?

Barely holding back your tears, you slowly stood up and, unlike Patrick, took the towel and wrapped it around your aching body. How could he leave you like that? You decided to open up and he just left? Without saying a word?

Crybaby. 

Your first thought was to follow him and confront him for acting like a fucking schoolboy, but you stopped yourself and decided it wasn't worth it—you would let him have it his way, because you didn't want to stoop to his level, you weren't pathetic. But if he wanted to be pathetic, you wouldn't interfere— being a babysitter wasn't appealing to you.

Later that day, as the sun began to set and it became a little cooler, you were still sitting outside, not really wanting to go inside, even though you were about to freeze to death, you preferred to be alone. Sitting on the soft lounge chair, you wrapped yourself in a white fluffy robe, even though you dried yourself, you still felt uncomfortable, as if Patrick's last words stuck to your skin like something slippery. Something you couldn't scrub off even if you wanted to. 

Trapped in your thoughts, you found yourself thinking about just going back to America. Yes, you could just leave this place without even talking to him and pay him back with his methods. The question was, would that make you feel better? You doubted it.

A short, refreshing breeze blew around you, making you curl up on the chair like a cat. Too overwhelmed with various ideas, thoughts, excuses you could find to somehow escape this whole situation, you didn't notice an approaching figure. Gracefully as ever, Bateman appeared right next to where you were resting. He was wearing nothing but white sweatpants, his hair still wet and slicked back. When you spotted him, you were not surprised—on the contrary, you expected him to come back, because this man was impatient and always craving attention, but this time there was something strange about him—you examined his posture only to see two glasses in his hands.

"Here," the man offered you a glass with a golden liquid in it—probably whiskey. "This will help you warm up."

Devoid of any emotion, you turned away from him, demonstrating that you didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see him, and didn't feel like having a drink.

"Listen, I want to tell you something," Bateman continued his attempts, even though his agenda was still unknown to you. "You're going to need this." With that, the man placed a glass on the lounge chair next to your feet, before nestling into the chair on the other side of you. "One day I decided to go to the Tunnel, where I met a girl," he paused and took a sip of his drink, not really looking your way, as if afraid to meet your gaze. "She was pretty... not really beautiful, but pretty. And she was young, I could say she was very young...but already so wrecked."

The way he chuckled—the dark edge in his voice—made something heavy fall into your stomach and you took the glass of whiskey, your hands suddenly shaking, cold shivers running down your spine. The pause was getting too long, but you had no intention of rushing him. 

"So I took her back to my place, and she was drunk as hell by then," you could see his fingers tighten around the glass until his knuckles turned white. "The bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut for a second. And then we fucked, but I didn't feel anything until I finally got my hands around her neck."

Eventually, you were glad that he had given you a moment to digest everything he had said. A sudden numbness washed over you, making it difficult to bring the glass to your lips, but when you managed to take a sip, the sharp alcohol burned your throat. But it didn't help. Not even a little.

With a shaky gasp, Bateman dared to look at you. "The thrill of the kill... was the only thing that could make me feel anything, but when I thought I was going to end her here and now... I realized she wasn't fighting," he paused again to finish his glass in one quick gulp. "She was fucking begging me to kill her... can you imagine that?"

You didn't know what to say, you were literally at a loss for words as itching tears began to well up in your eyes, and it had nothing to do with fear, it was all about the pain—you could feel it in every word he had just said. The unbridled, raw pain of a desperate man you happened to fall in love with.

"Why... why did you tell me all this?" You asked in a raspy voice.

"Because," he turned suddenly in your direction, almost getting up from the lounge chair, his breathing labored and uneasy. "I want you to know who you're dealing with... since you said you loved me..." Every word he said sent a shiver down your spine, adding to the already cold air surrounding you. "It's not too late to take back your words..."

"No. Not gonna happen," you cut him off, sipping more whiskey. What the hell was he talking about, how could you take back your words when you were absolutely sincere when you said them? "Even if I had the chance to erase your memory or use a time machine and go back in time... I wouldn't do it. Because I meant it when I said it, I really did, and you know it! That's why you're trying to push me away now, right? With all these spooky stories?"

Bateman didn't flinch even when you literally snapped at him, towering over his seated form and nearly splashing the contents of your glass right into his blank face. And now he decided to act as if nothing had happened? Now? After he literally dumped all that emotional mess on you like a bucket of cold water?

"I know it was stupid of me to even mention love... feelings... but instead of all this nonsense, you could just tell me that you despise me," you croaked through the tears that were stuck in your throat like a lump. "Because what you said...it's not funny to speculate about it!"

"It's never supposed to be funny!" Patrick retaliated and stood up as well, now standing very close to you, your lips just inches away. "Nobody takes me seriously! I'm so fucking sick of it!" His furious temper seemed to finally take over, revealing the true side of his personality, and you risked being drawn into its darkness. "Believe it or not... but that day when you called me from Paul Allen's place... I was ready to kill that bastard if I found out he touched you with his finger!"

Bateman's cruel words triggered the memories you never really wanted to remember—that fucking party you went to at Paul's apartment, those fucking hookers or models...or whatever they called themselves. Those fuckers who drugged your drink and tried to get their hands on you. That one moment when you rushed into the dimly lit living room to pick up the phone and dial the only number you could think of to hear the voice of a person who hated you the most, but at that moment felt like the only lifeline you could dream of. And when Patrick didn't pick up, each beep was agonizing and heavy—you thought you would die without hearing his voice.

Astonished, you nervously fixed your hair and let out a heavy breath. "You would...you would do what?" Your question wasn't supposed to sound like mockery, but it probably did, because the next thing you heard was a muffled crunch. "What..."

You didn't finish your sentence because you simply couldn't comprehend what had just happened—that crunching sound was the glass that Patrick simply crushed in his hand while you tried to call out to him through the depraved prism of his twisted mind—crimson drops of blood painted the floor in intricate ornaments, forcing your stomach to churn.

Why... Why are you doing this? Why do you want to hurt yourself so badly?

"Holy Christ!" You finally managed to blurt out, taking his injured hand in yours to open it and see the wound. "Why did you do that?!"

"And why do you care?" Was all he replied, staring at you through his half-lidded eyes. "You think everything I say is bullshit. Maybe this is not real either?"

And then, all of a sudden, he grabbed your hand with his bloody one, you could feel the shards of glass almost sink into your flesh, and even though they never did, you could feel the pain—his pain.

Pain. Everything is about pain.

"Please, Patrick," you almost begged, but didn't take your hand away as you watched the scarlet liquid cover more of your own skin. "Let me help you."

Bateman's cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covered his beautiful face, but he didn't even hiss, as if he didn't really feel any physical pain—that was terrifying, but you didn't falter. Carefully, without any hasty movements, you forced him to follow you into the house, avoiding the broken glass on the floor. 

The man didn't say a word, he was in some kind of trance, you couldn't even remember seeing something like this before, but now was not the time to ponder about it, not when he was bleeding like this. You had to use the sleeve of your robe to keep him from gushing out and staining the house.

As you dragged him into the bathroom, you opened the mirror cabinet to retrieve the first aid kit and found some bandages, antiseptic and tweezers. Humming something to yourself in desperation, you glanced into the mirror to see him suddenly slide to the floor with his eyes closed.

"Patrick!" You yelled and ran to him. What if he had damaged the veins? What if you could not stop the bleeding? "Look at me, don't close your eyes!"

As soon as you touched his face, the man brushed your hand away as if swatting an annoying fly. "I'm fine," he said, gritting his teeth, but no matter how hard he tried to hide the tremor in his voice, you could hear that nerve—he was crying. "Just... give me the damn bandages. I'll take care of myself."

"Are you...crying?"

Gently, as if he were made of porcelain, you tilted his chin up and brushed his wet strands away, his usually sparkling eyes so dull and empty it made your heart shrink in pain, but you didn't give up. Ignoring the overwhelming fear, you unpacked the bandages and soaked one of them in the antiseptic before pressing it against the wound, but then you just poured the liquid all over his bleeding hand when you realized there were too many small shards embedded in his flesh.

Embarrassed, Bateman could only sob softly, and he didn't even try to pretend that his defenses weren't down with the first tear that slid down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he murmured abruptly, sniffling and shaking his head from side to side. "I didn't want it to end like this."

"Shh," you stroked his hair with your free hand. "Let's talk about this later." As you blew on his wound to soothe the itchiness of the antiseptic, you didn't even notice the way Patrick was looking at you under his messy bangs—he was looking at you like you were some kind of miracle—if only he could go back in time and not say all those things about him being a fucking psycho. But then again, would it be fair to keep that from you, knowing how dangerous it could be for you? "Uh, I'm not sure I can pull out all the pieces...maybe it's better to go to the hospital?

"Fuck that," Bateman snapped, swallowing his salty tears. "Not an option."

With a weary sigh, you took the tweezers and began to pick the pieces of broken glass out of his hand—if someone told you one day that you'd be sitting on the cold bathroom floor covered in Patrick's blood because that idiot forgot how to use the glasses, you wouldn't believe it. 

"You're the most stubborn man I've ever met," you said with a wry smile. "The most arrogant and self-centered and selfish..."

"Okay, okay!" Bateman held up his hand as a white flag. "I get it. No need to keep repeating it-uh!"

As soon as you heard him squeal in pain after pulling out the large shard of glass, you stopped in your tracks, barely holding the tweezers in your hand. "Oh, sorry!" You quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be more careful!"

As you leaned down to better concentrate on your task, the man suddenly pulled you closer with his uninjured arm to press his heated mouth against yours. The kiss was nothing like the ones you had shared before—you could taste his tears, the saltiness of them, the agony and despair. At first you wanted to break away and scold him for being reckless and foolish, but he was the first to break the kiss, only to bring his bloody finger to your parted lips. On the verge of losing your grip on reality, you closed your eyes and allowed him to push his finger inside.

What is this madness with a copper-like taste?

Maybe this man was really a demon sent straight from hell to torment people and find out their most depraved desires, their true nature, which turned out to be something sinful and deranged?  Who else could he be if he could make you do such twisted things? If he could make you lose control and forget what the word "normalcy" even meant?

While you were busy processing the questions that would never be answered, the two of you were still pressed tightly together, the bloody kisses on your lips and then your neck only increasing the risk of losing your sanity here and now. However, the tweezers you held in your hand became your anchor to reality as the cold metal almost bit into your skin with its sharpness. 

"Patrick," you purred against his red lips, catching your breath. "Are we crazy? I know it's a stupid question, considering everything that's happened between us..."

"I guess you could say I've plagued you with my craziness...but I'm not sorry for it," he crooned in a mischievous voice, his lips curled into a slight smirk. "And I don't want you to take it as a joke or romanticize it."

How could he say that after he literally made you suck his bloody fingers? But wasn't it you who allowed him to do it? Who craved that in the first place? That thrilling aura of danger, mystery and darkness that always surrounded Bateman like a second skin. 

"I'm not gonna leave you," you said briefly, continuing to clean his hand of the shards. "I've lost too many people I care about."

Patrick listened intently without arguing, ignoring the urge to hug you again, to comfort you, to reassure you that you would never lose him, because this was not about him, this was about your safety. Your words about him being selfish stuck in his head like an obsessive melody. 

Selfish, egocentric, unsympathetic—a perfect bundle of traits for a psychopath like him.

The day you were about to leave and go back to New York, you couldn't sleep. When you woke up early in the morning, you rolled onto your back. The birds were chirping peacefully in the distance, and you were somehow jealous that you couldn't be as serene as those cute little creatures. Unlike you, Bateman slept like a baby on his side, holding a pillow and sometimes jerking slightly—probably having a vivid dream or something—his right hand was still healing, but thankfully the wound wasn't bleeding anymore. Although you were not well rested, you thought it would be more productive to get up and finish packing your things since you had a flight in the afternoon. Quietly, you pulled down the blanket and sat down on the side of the bed, but then you heard Patrick's muffled whimper, which startled you a bit.

Oh, no, not him having another nightmare.

Concerned, you crawled back onto the bed and hugged the shivering man from behind. "Shh, it's okay," you whispered into his ear, pecking the back of his head before nuzzling his neck—the mixture of his cologne and aftershave hitting your nostrils like an intoxicating haze. "This is just a bad dream."

Noticing that he was relaxing a bit, you slowly began to roll back onto your side of the bed, but suddenly his strong hands cupped yours, causing you to hug him tighter in a silent plea. This was not something he usually did—it stirred a deep feeling of affection in you—even in his sleep, Patrick seemed to have control over everything, including you, but now it was different.

For a moment you weren't sure if it was right to wake him up like that, but then you thought it was better than just shaking him and telling him he was having a nightmare. Also, how many times did Bateman not care if you were sleeping or not when he just got on top of you and started fucking you mercilessly? Well, you never protested or complained about it, but after all, you were not him.

When the man made the same sound again, you had to push all thoughts away—you would have plenty of time to think about things—now all you could think about was the softness of his skin, the shallowness of his breathing, the strong grip of his hands on yours. Patrick needed you, and that was the most tempting thing of all.

With a quick movement, you slid your hand under the blanket to caress his perfect tiddies one by one, the tip of your finger teasing his nipple with feathery touches. God, the things you wanted to do to this man frightened you in ways you never thought you could even imagine. 

Now was the time when you could finally agree with his statement about plaguing you with his insanity, for how else could you describe it? 

"Mmm," Bateman's low gasp that fell from his parted lips echoed through the bedroom as you lowered your hand and stroked his hard bulge in his Calvin Klein briefs. "I didn't kill her...I didn't," his mumbling was growing more and more erratic. "I just...wanted that bitch to shut her mouth..."

You couldn't hear it anymore. "Patrick, Patrick!" You called his name and shook him slightly. "It's just a nightmare! Please come back to me!"

Just as you said these words, his body went limp in your embrace, some cold buds of sweat sliding down his forehead as he opened his startled eyes and looked up at you. Bateman remained silent, his hands unclasping yours only to grasp the sheets in a violent grip. 

"What time is it now?" He asked as if nothing had happened.

"'Too early for you to worry about that," you tried to hug him again, but he pulled away. "You had a bad dream. Maybe it was not the best idea to watch horror movies before bed last night?"

Patrick sneered into the pillow, and although you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. "I... I didn't mean to wake you."

"But you didn't-"

"I hate it, I fucking hate seeing any dreams," the man suddenly replied through clenched teeth, then Patrick looked at his bandaged hand—he was trembling. "Do you... do you see them too?"

"Most people do," you replied, planting a light kiss on his temple, his soft hair tickling your nose. "I think you just miss New York and your familiar surroundings. When we get back, you'll feel better, I'm sure. But for now, is there anything I can do to help you relax?"

Damn, that probably sounds so cheesy.

Finally, Bateman turned to look at you. "You can finish what you started," he replied with that classic boy-next-door smile that was his favorite and most useful weapon in seducing people, and you were no exception. Sometimes you hated being so weak to it, though. "I think I missed the moment when you became so bold, darling."

The air in the room was thick with tension, the little electric impulses cursed through your system by his raspy voice, which was nothing but a testament to his arousal and it only fueled your desire to make him moan, writhe like a caged bird, to make him cum on the sheets and still ask for more.

"Oh, I forgot the last time you called me like that," you droned, wrapping your hands around his waist and pressing against his tight ass. "Was it when I fucked you with that dildo I found in your little secret box?"

Meanwhile, you used the moment of his confusion to dip your palm into his underwear—his tender flesh was burning like fire—you had to use all your willpower to stop yourself from biting his neck. Patrick's panting became more uneven with each passing moment, but when you began to rub his swollen tip, smearing his thick pre-cum around it, he literally arched his back like a bowstring.

"You like it when I take care of you?" You licked his earlobe, then grazed it a bit, causing a low moan to erupt from his chest, but you needed more—you craved it like oxygen—the power he allowed you to bear was too addictive. "Talk to me... I want to hear my sweet boy."

Patrick groaned louder as you gave his dick a long, hard pump. "Damn," he closed his eyes and blushed uncontrollably. "Feels good... so f-fucking good."

Impulsively, you drowned out his moans with a lingering kiss, your tongue slipping along his in a relentless battle for dominance until he let you have your way and you sucked on his tongue with all your might, your hand massaging his tight sack, then switching back to rubbing his shaft and then his red-hot tip again. Eventually Bateman began to thrash around on the bed, thrusting into your hand, and you picked up the pace, jerking him off more vigorously, the wet, sloppy sound driving you both crazy. Each time the two of you had sex, the outside world ceased to exist; there was just the two of you, your inflamed bodies, your most sinful desires...

"Fuck," Patrick cursed, gripping the edge of the bed with one hand and pulling you closer with the other as you kissed again and again until your lips began to hurt. "How did you get inside my head... so fucking easy?"

It was not easy at all.

If only he could understand that.

With a mischievous grin, you nipped at his Adam's apple, then moved lower to his chest, flicking your tongue around his taut nipple and sucking on it with undisguised greed, but then you had to shush him with your mouth when he became too noisy.

"You've got a lot of secrets to unravel about me, baby," you sneered condescendingly and pinched his engorged peak, making him whimper so pathetically that you began to regret not taking that dildo with you. "Uh, you're shaking so bad already. Do you want to stain these expensive sheets again?" You teased him, your grip like a tight ring around his balls, squeezing them so perfectly that you could feel his dick pulsing in desperation for release. "Not that I care, but... I remember you telling me that you love to keep every drop of your cum inside me..."

With that, you gave his thick cock several quick strokes before letting go and moving your hand from his groin to his toned butt for a squeeze and then, before you knew it, you were outlining the rim of his puckered hole.

"Oh shit," Bateman bit his wet lower lip, his face flushed like fucking tomato juice. "You're not going to get away with this...you know that?"

You just giggled in reply. "Don't you think that's kinda irrelevant to say when you're lying here all splayed out for me like a bitch in heat?” You slapped his ass without a second thought. "I know what you're made of..." Another slap that made him moan. "I know what you want..."

"Oh yeah? And what is that... what do I want?"

By this time you were almost on top of him, grinding against his muscular body, but not afraid of him snapping at you, it took you several seconds to lubricate your fingers with your saliva before you plunged them into his tight inner channel, sending shivers right through his core, and it was fucking delirious to see him trembling like that and to know that you were the reason for it.

"This... this is what you want," you explained, pushing your fingers deeper before pulling them out and repeating the motion, stimulating his prostate with precise accuracy. "You're tired of being in charge all the time...and you wanted someone to take care of you without finding it your weakness."

And you were not even going to ask him to accept it—you just knew it was true—it was written in his every moan, every jerk of his hips as you were fingerfucking his ass. Everything was perfect the way it was—you were perfect for each other, no matter what flaws you both had, because ultimately these flaws were what made you you.

When there were no more words to be said and the sun began to rise, the two of you were still following the electrifying momentum of raw, unbridled lust. Moaning into each other's mouths, you continued to thrust your fingers as deep as you could, finding the best rhythm, while Bateman couldn't hold back any longer as he desperately jerked off in sync with your fingers until his whole body was strained to the point of exploding like a bomb. A loud moan of pure satisfaction pierced the room as he finally erupted in thick ropes that covered his flat stomach, but he never stopped pumping himself, not even when he began to suffocate.

"Good boy," you watched him convulse like a leaf shaking in the wind. "You're such a good boy to me. I love you."

For a brief moment, your heavy breathing was the only sound in the bedroom, as if everything outside it was nonexistent. There were no barriers, just you and him—his hand in your hand—his soul intertwined with yours.

Huffing, Patrick gasped greedily for air, but then, when your eyes met, he seemed to stop breathing again—the inner conflict could be seen behind those two dark pools that were his eyes. "I love y-you too...but if you ever dare to leave me again...I promise I will find you...and kill you."

Later that day, you took a cab to the airport. And even though you personally didn't care which class, business or first, you flew, Bateman grumbled the whole way, arguing that he hated being crowded.

"Next time we'll take a private jet," he grumbled, his hands crossed over his chest, the Rolex shimmering in the sunlight. "Why did I ever follow your advice?"

Rolling your eyes, you wanted to reply with something cocky, but then you noticed the way he fiddled with his fingers, nervously trying to hide his wounded hand. "Just because you have a lot of money doesn't mean you have to spend it like crazy," you explained, gently taking his injured hand in yours. "But next time, I won't give you any advice. Deal?"

From the confusion you could read in his face, it seemed to you that Bateman hadn't expected anything like that from you, and you were so damned pleased with yourself, because you were finally on the right track to understanding how to treat him properly, so that he would reciprocate with the same attitude. But even the most perfect mechanisms could break down sometimes.

"Oh, well," he sighed, looking down at your clasped hands, but not removing his own. "I didn't mean that I don't like your advice..."

"Forget it," you cut him off, smiling as you frowned at your words. "Really, it's nothing. I'm not your Mommy or Daddy to lecture you about your money.” 

"I think I've heard that before."

"Maybe."

"Mommy and Daddy," Patrick suddenly laughed like a maniac. "You know... I can be your Daddy if you want..."

"Jesus Christ, Bateman! Don't even start!" You nudged his shoulder slightly, but it only emboldened him to scoop you into his arms and seal your lips with his soft, loving ones. "How do you manage to say the cringiest things at the most inappropriate times?"

"Cringiest things?"

Dear Lord, have mercy.

Just as you were about to answer, the taxi driver suddenly turned around and gave you both a cheerful, genuine smile. "Wir sind fast da." (We're almost there)

Confused, Bateman narrowed his eyes before averting them from the cabbie, pretending to look in the window. As much as you wanted to laugh and tease him for his childish behavior, you returned a friendly smile to the driver and murmured: "Vielen Dank! Was kostet die Reise?" (Thank you! How much for the ride?)

The driver pointed to the meter, you nodded, and pulled out your wallet. "Bitte sehr. Behalten Sie den Rest." (Here you go. Keep the rest)

The longer Patrick remained silent, the more he looked like a small child who was offended that no one was paying attention to him. When the car pulled up at Stuttgart Airport, you thanked the driver and got out of the car before Bateman could say anything.

After taking your luggage, the two of you entered the busy area of the airport, people were rushing here and there, which of course made Patrick even more annoyed.

"I didn't know you could speak German," he managed to get the words out, but he still looked insulted. "Was it necessary to act like that?"

Hello, my name is Patrick Bateman and I'm a 27-year-old kid who can't stand being ignored for five fucking minutes.

Irritated, you stopped abruptly and he almost bumped into you. "First of all, I studied German in college, and since the company I worked for in Chicago did business with a lot of German partners, I needed to revive my knowledge," you blurted out, extending a finger in a stay-the-fuck-up gesture. "Second, I've been speaking German a lot since we got here, and you never bothered to notice! Really, Patrick? And what do you mean, was that necessary? Paying the taxi driver and thanking him for the ride? Are you serious?"

"I was talking to Bryce." Bateman's sudden words hit you like an avalanche of rocks.

For a fleeting second, you didn't even know what to say. What were they talking about? Had Bryce told him about the night you had spent together? Or rather, the nights. Shit, oh shit. That was bad. You knew it was going to be so bad for you because you kept it a secret and hid it from Patrick, but on the other hand, it wasn't cheating because, fuck it, Bateman married Evelyn just to make you what? Jealous?

"When did you ever find the time to do that?" You asked, trying to shake the anxiety off your shoulders.

"When you were in the shower before we left," Patrick's eyes scanned your face with a mysterious interest that made you swallow hard. "He invited us to Shinnecock Hills Golf Club, the one on the eastern tip of Long Island. A fucking golf club, can you imagine? That blonde bitch has already changed him so much."

"Blonde bitch?"

"Evelyn Williams."

"Uh, oh, yeah, Evelyn," you made a thoughtful face as if you could hardly remember who it was, when in fact you knew everything all too well, starting with the fact that Tim and Evelyn had been fucking behind Bateman's back before they got divorced, since Bryce had told you about it when you met several times after Patrick and Evelyn's wedding. You and Timothy used to fuck until you witnessed Bryce's meltdown over his fucked up relationship with Evelyn Williams. "It's just... you talk about it as casually as if you weren't married to her once."

"Was I?" Bateman arched his eyebrows theatrically and rubbed his chin. "I don't remember."

"We're going to miss our flight if we keep rumbling like this," you complained, pointing to the large information board. "And...I didn't know you guys loved golf?"

The two of you exchanged a few sly glances before heading for the gate where your plane was waiting for you. A plane that would take you back to the crazy city life of New York, the city you swore you would never visit again, but as the saying goes—never say never. 

My life was like a comedy that turned out to be a drama and I was the director who screwed up the script.

Imagine yourself praying that today would be bad weather, rain, thunderstorm or fucking snow (even though it made absolutely no sense) and you wouldn't have to go to the golf club to see Tim and Evelyn and pretend that nothing happened. If Patrick could pretend that nothing happened between the four of you, why was it so hard for you, almost impossible? You also had to take into account the fact that Patrick still didn't know about you and Bryce, and you had serious doubts that he would be as indifferent about it as he was about Timothy and Evelyn's affair behind his back, or maybe it wasn't even behind his back and he knew everything from the beginning? This did not make it easy for you to understand how you all got into this situation. Why did he marry Evelyn in the first place? 

"Hey, are you okay?" a familiar female voice pulled you out of the swamp of thoughts and when you raised your eyes you saw her—Evelyn Williams in the flesh. Even though the last time you had seen her was at her wedding with Patrick, which seemed to be so long ago (but wasn't), the woman didn't seem to have changed at all. "The boys asked me to bring them some drinks... Do you know how to call the staff here?"

Stunned, you looked around—the two of you were standing under the big tent that was located not far from the big golf course where Patrick and Timothy were practicing their shots, because there was a rumor that Paul Allen was about to join your little 'golf party', and of course nobody was really happy about it—especially you, but not because you didn't like Paul, you just didn't want to dig into the dirt, preferring to keep it all in the past.

"Uh, I think Patrick has a phone," you replied a little awkwardly. "I can go ask him."

As soon as you started to move, the woman stopped you with a polite hand on your shoulder. "Actually, they asked us not to bother them for a while."

"Oh," you stammered, chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek. "'Something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Evelyn grinned brightly and poured herself a glass of orange juice from the large decanter that stood on the narrow table. "Want some juice? Patrick told me about your little trip to Germany! I tried to convince him to travel when we were... well... never mind, he always refused!"

The blonde let out a nervous chuckle and took a sip of juice, your eyes never leaving her slightly embarrassed face. There was something wrong with this whole situation, but you couldn't reveal your fear. 

"I wonder what exactly he told you, but... I don't mind talking about it," you crossed your arms and leaned against the table with the non-alcoholic drinks. "Ask away."

Meanwhile, two rich men, dressed in the most expensive polo shirts and shorts of some famous brand from the latest fashion week, were discussing the latest news of the financial world.

"Those bastards we had a meeting with last week are a fucking bunch of freaks and believe me when I say they're so deep in the shit they're going to fucking drown in it one day. Now watch and learn," Bryce finished his expressive monologue with a practice swing of his club. As the ball fell into the hole, the man lifted his sunglasses to wink at his friend. "See that, Bateman?"

"Nice shot," Patrick mimicked Tim's actions, adjusting his sunglasses as well. "Although I still don't understand why you chose a fucking golf club out of all the places we have?"

Leaning on his club, Bryce turned to look at the tent, and the moment he did, Evelyn began waving at him as if she were the most ardent fan and Tim the worldwide golf star.

"It was her idea," the man replied, stepping back to place the next ball for Bateman. "She was bored with regular dinners and going to some nightclub was out of the question after that... story that happened at Le Bain."

Patrick frowned and quickly picked up his club. "Le Bain? Really? What were you doing there anyway?"

Bryce didn't answer directly, instead he rubbed his head, marking time, and that didn't really look like the Timothy Bryce Patrick had gotten used to knowing. "What kind of shitty story did you get into this time, Bryce?"

"Nothing serious," Tim replied, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "You got a lighter?" With a soft click, Bateman opened a white-gold Zippo lighter, and after Bryce took several drags, he looked back in Evelyn's direction before finally starting to talk. "Almost crushed some asshole's skull," he said so casually that Patrick could only smile like an idiot for a moment. "The guy asked for it, I swear."

"You did what?" Bateman questioned after a boyish giggle that escaped his throat faster than he could even suppress it. "And I thought after rehab people should be calmer and more stable."

"Oh, fuck you! That scumbag tried to rent Evelyn out like one of those hookers, well, you know, hookers, whores, you know better than me-"

"I KNOW!"

Bateman's reaction really amused Bryce, who couldn't help but grin as he watched Patrick get more and more flustered by the second. "So after this incident, Evelyn doesn't want to go to clubs...unless it's a fucking golf club!"

Now it was Patrick's time to sneer. "I didn't expect you to become a henpecked husband so quickly," Patrick joked, finally hitting a shot—two men watched as the ball flew until it landed next to the hole, but never fell in. "Golf sucks. I fucking hate it!"

"Don't cry, Bateman, shit happens," Timothy tapped Patrick's shoulder in a mockingly comforting way, but then the man suddenly became very serious. " So, have you had any success with your love adventures?"

"More than you can imagine," Bateman took off his sunglasses and fastened them to his polo shirt. "Why?"

"Sometimes I want to fucking sink into the ground when Evelyn starts whining that we're sitting in one place...that New York has become too stuffy and all that shit."

"Sounds like a casual day from my family life with Evelyn," Patrick started to say something else, but then he looked at his Rolex to check the time. "Is Allen really coming?"

"Oh shit, I forgot!" Tim cursed and quickly began to remove his leather gloves. "Honestly, I don't even know why he decided to come."

"I have an idea why," Bateman frowned as he heard approaching footsteps and as soon as the man turned to the side, you and Evelyn appeared on the horizon—your face was grim and tense, which spoke volumes about the complexity of the current situation and Patrick's need to solve it somehow. "And where are our drinks?"

"Sorry guys, we only have non-alcoholic drinks here," Evelyn blushed a little as the two men looked at her. "Patrick, can I use your phone? I am going to call the staff since Tim left his phone in the limo!"

Bryce finished his cigarette but didn't throw it away because he knew that Evelyn would bitch about him making a mess, blah blah blah, end of story. "'Screw this," Tim exclaimed spontaneously. "We can take a golf cart and get our drinks in the main building...and meet Allen there."

At the mention of Paul, you literally trembled, but Patrick almost immediately placed his hand on the small of your back. Slightly surprised by his affection, you didn't even say a word as Timothy and Evelyn exchanged goodbyes and walked toward the golf cart.

"Did you get sunstroke?" Bateman crooned as he stroked your cheek to get you to look up at him. "I told you to stay under the tent, not with us."

"I'm fine," you tried to reassure him. "It's just that I don't really want to see Paul right now," your voice trembled treacherously. "Not in the best mood for... social activities."

Without saying anything, Patrick grabbed your hand and led you back to the tent, where the two of you had some healthy smoothies that you never really liked, but since Bateman told you that they were pretty good for your health, you pretended to enjoy them. Afterwards, the two of you sat on the small but comfortable couch with the amazing view. The man rested his hand on your shoulders and occasionally massaged the back of your neck, causing you to close your eyes in pleasure.

"You and Allen," Patrick muttered abruptly. "What kind of relationship do you have?"

This is it—no way to run.

"Just business," you explained without a hint of doubt. "Listen...I don't want to see him, not because we had some drama...it wasn't Allen's fault that the party was messed up. Someone brought up the prostitutes...or maybe they were models. I don't know!" You paused to catch your breath. "All the memories are so cloudy...but the one thing I remember clearly is that I started to feel weird after I drank some wine...then everything came in torn frames. Some guy tried to get his hands on me and I didn't know where Allen was and some other guys from P&P but not Tim or Craig or David...I'm sorry I called you...my poisoned mind decided it was the best idea to call you."

The whole time you were talking, Bateman was stroking your back, but when you mentioned the call, he froze in place, and it looked so creepy. "You mean...you called me...that night?"

Tensing up, you gave Patrick a confused look, but instead of saying anything, you just nodded. The lingering silence between the two of you felt so heavy and suffocating that at one point you thought it was a bad idea to tell him what had happened that night at Paul Allen's apartment, but now it was too late.

"What happened next? Do you remember the person who tried to touch you?"

"Not really," you replied in a dull voice. "I think after I called you... Paul told me we had to leave and we left and... fuck!" You cursed and grabbed your head as if it could help you remember more details. "It all happened so fast...I'm sorry I bothered you with that call, that was really stupid of me."

"You really did call me," he repeated over and over, repeating the phrase like a broken record. "You really..."

Confused, you turned to face him, only to see his pupils dilated and his face covered in a thin layer of sweat. "I did," you said curtly. "But...what's so special about that?"

But your question seemed to fall on deaf ears, Bateman blinked several times, his hands trembling a bit as he removed them from your back, and then you finally realized why he was asking you these particular questions, but the way he smiled in relief, delusionally thinking he had found all the answers he was looking for, who knew for how long, it hurt so much.  But what could you do now? You both had already come to the conclusion that Patrick needed help, that he would soon start seeing a psychiatrist recommended by Timothy, and that he would also resume taking pills to help control his impulsive temper. So the choice was yours.

After taking a deep breath, you glanced at him again—the man was looking back so expectantly, there was a spark of happiness in his eyes—a long forgotten spark, but there it was, and you didn't want to ruin it, even though you knew that the bitter truth was always better than the sweetest lie.

I hope one day you will forgive me for this, my love.

"Everything will be fine," your reassuring words were not for him, but for you. "You will be fine," you took his large palm in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But... there is one more thing I have to tell you."

"What is it?" Patrick asked almost immediately.

"I..." you stammered as his grin widened, making him look so boyish and... cute? Fucking hell, why do you always choose the worst timing? "I fucked Bryce...several times...after you married Evelyn...but that was just sex...I mean..."

Even though he was still smiling, something changed in the way he looked at you now. The man took a moment to process the information you had just given him.

"That didn't mean anything! I swear," you were the first to speak again. "We... we both just found ourselves in one of the most fucked up moments of our lives..."

"Listen-"

"Wait! Let me finish!"

With one smooth move, Patrick brought you closer, so that you were sitting on his lap, and the suddenness of it left you speechless, which Bateman used to his advantage.

"See," he began, hugging you tightly. "You didn't say anything I didn't already know."

What? WHAT?

He was bluffing, no way Bryce told him everything, he would never do that to you, but on the other hand—why were you so confident that Bryce wouldn't tell his best friend to save their friendship? Even though you and Tim were close, Patrick and Timothy had a much closer bond.

"Tim told you everything?" You asked, feeling defeated and devastated.

"Not directly, but enough for me to understand the hidden meaning of the references he used whenever we talked about you."

You talked about me?

"I'm sorry," you laid your head on his shoulder before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and wrapping both of your hands around it. "I should have told you sooner."

"You told me when you were ready," he murmured softly, rubbing invisible circles on your back to soothe you. "I suppose you and I are finally even now."

"I guess you're right."

You cupped his face, pecking his temple, then the bridge of his perfectly framed nose, bathing his jawline with small kisses until you reached his lips to kiss him as lovingly as you could, wanting to convey all the emotions you felt for him through that kiss. 

This moment seemed too perfect, so when you heard a loud laugh that belonged to someone you knew quite well, you weren't surprised at all, because things couldn't be that good—not in real life.

"Oh, there they are, look at these lovebirds," Craig chuckled and then added. "Long time no see."

And of course McDermott was not alone, soon you noticed Van Patten and Bryce. "Where's Evelyn?" You asked, dismounting from Patrick and taking the seat next to him instead. "And Paul?"

Bryce smiled mischievously and pulled two bottles of alcohol out from behind his back. "I told Allen there was no alcohol in here, so he changed his mind," Tim said, placing the bottles on the small table next to the couch. "And Evelyn...she told me that she actually hates golf and that she'd rather go to the spa with Courtney—I didn't interfere. So are you just going to sit here or will you give me glasses?"

"You know, I was starting to like this new version of Bryce," David joked, rolling a cigar between his fingers. "Still a bitchy asshole, but with new functionality in his arsenal."

Everyone except Timothy began to laugh, Patrick being the volunteer who had decided to bring the glasses from the table on the other side of the tent terrace. 

"Have you lost the last of your brains or something?" Tim growled, smoothing back his hair, which was blacker than charcoal. "That chick you're with now will be the death of you, remember my words."

Bateman returned with glasses in the middle of the most intense part of the conversation about David's new girlfriend, who turned out to be the daughter of a very influential politician, and who had just returned from Cuba with a limited collection of cigars that Van Patten was so arrogantly bragging about. And somehow, you could finally admit to yourself that you missed the old days when you were a part of Wall Street life, even though sometimes you really hated it. But now, sitting among your ex-colleagues and your lover, you felt like you were in the right place, and that feeling was the most tranquilizing thing you had ever experienced.

Almost six months later, you and Patrick went back to Germany to attend Vincent and Andrea's wedding. This time, you didn't stop Bateman from taking a private jet for the trip, and it was your first flight on such a luxury aircraft—its interior looked even more lavish than in glamour magazines about the rich and famous. 

Sitting in the comfortable beige leather seat, you looked out the porthole where the clouds looked like a creamy dessert—the sight was mesmerizing and breathtaking, even though you weren't a fan of flying, but at the same time you couldn't say that you were aerophobic—you were definitely somewhere in between. While Patrick was away talking to the crew about something you didn't know, you had already finished counting the number of diamonds or other jewels that were used like a fancy decoration—there were about a hundred small gems all over the interior and it was insane because why would you need all of them in a damn plane? It wouldn't get off the ground without them, or what?

"What are you thinking about, sweetheart?" Bateman's soft baritone echoed off the walls of the plane's interior. "You sure you don't want something to drink?"

"Yes," you replied and quickly adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. "I'm just wondering if Vincent and Andrea will like our gift."

"Who wouldn't? Everybody loves money," the man chuckled and sat down across from you. "I still don't understand how they decided to get married so quickly after dating for a few months?"

Frowning, you grunted. "They've been dating for more than six months now and they knew each other since childhood....Did you forget?"

The man just rolled his eyes and yawned tiredly. "Honey, I don't even remember Sean's birthday and he's my brother. What did you expect?"

Yeah, right, what did I expect?

"Uh, just don't say anything that will embarrass me at the wedding, okay?"

"I can keep quiet the whole wedding, it's no problem for me," Bateman winked at you and swirled his glass of scotch. " As long as someone decides to ask me some stupid questions."

"Like what?"

"Mmm...something Wall Street related," he purred in a sweet tone that was such a stark contrast to what he was actually saying. "’Oh, sir, are you really from New York City? I've heard a lot of stories about the bankers from Wall Street.’"

The way he tried to imitate a German accent made you slap his hand and shake your head in disapproval. "All the guests are educated people, stop acting like Europeans are less educated than Americans."

"I'm not gonna start this polemic," he chirped, suddenly standing up. "Sit here, I'll be right back."

And then he disappeared behind the elegant door, made of red wood, its surface shimmering from how polished it was, you could even see your own reflection, but you didn't see any reasons why Bateman was leaving somewhere again. Was there something wrong with the plane? Were we going to crash? A cold shiver ran down your spine at the mere thought of it.

Shake it off…just shake it off.

While you desperately tried to calm down, the door opened again, but you couldn't see anyone behind it. "Close your eyes."

Patrick's sudden order made you blink nervously in shock.

"Why?"

You heard him sigh in irritation. "Just do what I say. Is it so difficult?"

"Fine, fine! Just don't do anything crazy!"

"You'll like it, trust me," the man replied, closing the door behind him before coming closer. "Put your hands out in front of you."

Shit, shit, shit, why am I so nervous? What else can he do? He could just kick me off the plane... Jesus, what am I thinking?

Closing your eyes tightly, you obeyed and reached out to feel something soft, fluffy and warm. "Oh my God...WHAT IS THAT?" And then you heard a distinctive sound that you would never mistake for anything else—a meow. "Can I open my eyes? PLEASE?"

"Now you can."

As soon as you opened your eyes, you saw a little fluffy pile of black fur looking back at you with a pair of tiny blue eyes—you could barely keep yourself from bursting into tears. The black kitten meows louder as you bring it closer to peck its head and hold it gently.

"Patrick, I..." you could barely speak. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything—your reaction is enough," the man commented, sitting back in his seat. "I know we talked about you wanting a kitten...about you wanting to adopt a child," he paused, taking a moment to just admire your happiness at having one of your dreams come true. "I thought we should start with something."

This kitten was the most adorable creature you'd ever seen, so small, so vulnerable, that you would do anything to protect and care for it. "That's...you can't even imagine how much it means to me," you pecked the kitten again when you noticed something on its collar—something round and shiny—a ring...with a large diamond. "What an interesting collar decoration."

"Told you you'd like it."

"Wait," you stopped him. "Wait...is this...for me?"

"What exactly?" Patrick sneered teasingly and opened his arms. "This jet is for you...everything around you...is for you," he slowly got up and walked to your seat. "Including the ring. Will you marry me?"

Another meow pierced the room around you, and while you were still in a state of shock, Bateman didn't miss the chance to pet the kitten, whose little paws curled up to catch his finger.

Will you marry me?

This question suddenly reminded you of the countless times you had imagined him asking you this, and even though in your dreams you knew exactly how to act to make everything look perfect, when it finally happened in real life you were caught off guard, shocked, paralyzed.  With every second of your hesitation, Bateman grew more and more nervous. 

"Honey?" He called to you, tilting your head with his gentle touch to make you look at him. "Is something wrong? Don't you like the ring?"

"No..." you nuzzled against his palm, holding the kitten carefully in your hands. "It's perfect...everything is so perfect," and then you collapsed, letting the sparkling tears run down your cheeks. "Are you...really...sure you want this?"

To be fair, he was ready for anything, even rejection, but this—such a reaction was something beyond his understanding of human emotion—scared him to the point where he thought he might be doing something bad, something that would turn you away from him.

Still holding your chin, the man knelt down beside your seat. "How can you question my decisions after everything we've been through?"

"Patrick," you ran your hand through his slightly disheveled hair. "I just want to know that you're not doing this for me, but because you really want to."

The man paused and sighed. "Of all the decisions I have made, this is the most conscious," he murmured in a raspy voice. "Allow me to prove it."

Speechless, you could barely breathe, and when you nodded, Patrick carefully removed the ring from the kitten's collar and gently took your hand in his to place a ring on your index finger, then the man pressed a soft kiss on the top of your palm as if to seal the vow. 

"I love you, Patrick Bateman," you said as he stood and towered over you to press his forehead against yours, your noses rubbing against each other. "You are my greatest tragedy and blessing." 

With a soft chuckle, Patrick pressed you against his chest, hugging your shoulders with one hand and stroking the kitten with the other. "I'll take that as a compliment," he smiled, burying his nose in your carefully combed hair. "What are you going to name your new little friend?"

You hummed and looked down. "It's a boy, right?"

"Yeah."

"Mhmm...what if we name him Memento?" You asked, looking up at your fiancé. "Memento means memory-"

"Memento mori—remember you must die, I've heard it many times."

"Uh, yes, that remark about the inevitability of death. But before we die, we will make a lot of different memories...memories you will never want to forget....memories you and I will remember when we grow old."

You sobbed at your own words and Patrick had to shush you, pulling you closer into his warm embrace. "Shhh," he kissed the top of your head. "You're so full of sentiment, darling. That would be enough for both of us."

"We're going to live together for a long time, aren't we?"

"Of course," Bateman reassured you, stroking your hair. "And we will die on the same day. But before that, as you said, we would have a life to remember."

"And... if there is an afterlife?"

"Then I'll find you there," Patrick's voice was as calming as a mantra, enveloping you like a soothing mist. "But you don't have to think about it today. Or tomorrow, or fifty years from now. Right now, you better think about our speech at the wedding, because I hate the very idea of it."

Human memory is a very complicated thing—sometimes you want nothing more than to reboot your memory and erase all the bad memories from your head, but then you have amnesia, and people who suffer from it will do anything to get their memories back. Because memory is what makes us who we are, every little thing that happened to you in your life forms your personality, and sometimes a missing memory can feel like a black void inside your soul when you have a feeling that you forgot something, but you couldn't remember what exactly. After all, life is a kaleidoscope of ups and downs, a complex mixture of dark and bright colors, where every little detail matters. When you feel depressed, when you think there's nothing left for you to keep going—never give up fighting for your love and following your dreams, because we have only one life, and death is inevitable, but while you're alive, you're capable of doing anything. 

Memento mori, but never stop believing and living your best life.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[sansaorgana]

— BLESSED (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your daughter is starting to show character traits and abilities that you have no idea where she could have inherited them from. In the meantime, your husband is growing frustrated with Celebrimbor when it comes to forging the rings.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — There will be a second part where she finds out who her husband is but in this one she remains oblivious, although there are signs of course – to which the Reader is blind and deaf. 🤣 I have probably butchered the lore but I didn't even bother to google much about it because I had my own idea how to write it. 🙈 The Reader is a half-Elf because it is useful in Sauron's scheme (trying to convince Celebrimbor to forge the rings for men – Celebrimbor is like a father to Annatar's wife). What I know about the canon, though, is that Sauron actually spent centuries in Eregion. So, in this fic he spends a few years, which is still not a lot but longer than in the show.

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, lowkey toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Annatar but she keeps describing him as kind and noble, Annatar is not the best father (I don't think the fic should trigger anyone because it's not like he's awful either but I want to mention it here just in case), immaculate conception (sort of... lmao I don't know how to describe it), birth (not much of a description)

WORD COUNT — 6,460

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (I)

“Lord Celebrimbor regrets to inform you he’s unable to grant you entry,” you announced after approaching the human king standing by his horse after arriving back to Eregion.

You had seen him around before but you had never truly had any opportunity to talk to him. He had been so busy with the man you considered to be your uncle and your guardian that it had seemed inappropriate to ever interrupt their work. And now he was back and even filthier than the last time you had seen him. He wanted to speak to your uncle but Celebrimbor had made a promise to Lady Galadriel to never treat with this man named Halbrand again.

So you stood there and announced the news as Celebrimbor’s most trusted person in Eregion; a daughter of his old friend and one of the best human smiths he had ever worked with – and such exceptions for the Elven master were not many. And even though you had not inherited your father’s abilities to forge beautiful things, you were the most useful to your guardian when it came to helping him run Eregion smoothly. Celebrimbor was often too occupied with his work to notice or deal with certain matters. That was where you would walk in and help him just like your mother had taught you before she had decided to move to Mithlond.

Eregion was your home, though, therefore you had not left with her. The memory of your father was too painful for your mother to be here but you were quite the opposite – you loved to live in the city your father had spent most of his life in.

But without your mortal father and without your mother, you were quite alone. Lord Celebrimbor, whom you called an uncle, was truly the only person you had.

Just as you expected, though, the human king did not want to accept the information as he smirked at you.

“Mightn’t I speak with him directly?” He asked you.

“My uncle is occupied,” you explained, calmly. It was not the first time you were dealing with people of this sort. “But he wishes you good fortune on your journey,” you added and turned around to walk away.

“Are you asking me to leave?” Halbrand inquired you sighed softly as you froze and turned around once more, to face him again.

“The Lord of Eregion is asking you,” you answered, patiently.

“Perhaps I’ll just wait here,” the man smiled awkwardly and petted his horse. You admired his stubborn will even though it was an inconvenience to you and your uncle. “Just in case he changes his mind,” he added and turned around to tie his horse to the column. And as he did that, you spotted that his tunic was torn on his back, revealing long and fresh wounds on his skin.

And perhaps the Elven part of you would just turn the blind eye and leave but the human part of you pitied him. Yes, however it sounded like – your relationship started with pity. And the thread of understanding because you were aware of the weaknesses of the human flesh. You had seen your father suffering from the injuries that your Elven kin would heal from nearly instantly. You had seen his body growing weaker as he had been getting older; more fragile. And because of your love towards your father, you had known and understood Halbrand’s pain in a way that most Elves would not.

Therefore, you became the human king’s greatest advocate in front of your uncle. You were the one to tell Celebrimbor about his injuries, pleading to at least offer Halbrand the help of the Eregion medics. He did not agree. But when the evening came, you brought it up that the night was cold and asked your uncle if you should bring Halbrand a shawl.

So, perhaps it was a shawl that started it all – at least it was this way in Annatar’s version of your love story. And whenever you would ask your husband why he had chosen you out of all the Elven maidens of Eregion, he would always remind you that you had been the only one who had treated him with dignity and had cared for him even when he had been still in his human form.

Despite that noble reason for his affection towards you, it still felt surreal to be courted by the emissary of the Valars. You were a half-Elf with no exceptional talents… And yet, for you, a man of such lightness, who was chosen by the gods, would give up some of his privileges and stay in Eregion to work alongside your uncle and be your husband? It was nearly suspicious in a way but neither you or Celebrimbor ever thought of it this way. To Celebrimbor you were like his own daughter that he had never had. When Lord Annatar asked for your hand, he felt proud and blessed. And so did you, writing a letter to your mother in Mithlond with shaky hands to ask for her permission to marry.

But your mother was not really a part of your life anymore and she was a different person after your father’s passing. She agreed without asking any further questions.

A year after his arrival to Eregion, you became Lord Annatar’s wife. It was the happiest day of your life because after a few centuries of loneliness with no one but your uncle by your side, you could start a family of your own. And to have a family was all you had ever wanted.

You were standing by the window and staring at Eregion underneath with a dreamy gaze as the cool breeze refreshed your face and made your hair dance slightly in the air. You took a deep breath in and felt the overwhelming energy filling up your body. Married life was giving you a new sense of meaning and joy, especially with a man like Annatar – the kindest, the gentlest, the most noble and most humble. Even though his grey and simple robes had been recently replaced and he began to dress more elegantly, you knew that the change had not been his idea. It was Celebrimbor’s because he wanted your husband to present himself respectable enough for the rest of Eregion.

You felt your husband’s hands touching your arms as you closed your eyes and enjoyed his presence. He stood behind you and buried his face in your hair to place a kiss upon your head in that quiet moment of the morning before he would have to join your uncle in the forge and you would have to go downstairs to help with the administration matters.

“I have realised recently, my love, that I still have not given you any wedding gift,” Annatar pointed out softly and you opened your eyes to turn your head around and look at his beautiful face.

“It’s been months since our wedding… I have not even thought of that…” You admitted. “Because, to me, you are the grandest gift, my love,” you replied, truthfully. He smiled at you adoringly and caressed the side of your face with his fingertips but there was a playful sparkle dancing in his gaze.

“You are my wife and I am the Lord of Gifts. I shall spoil you with many,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Is there something you want? Something you want very badly perhaps? Name it and I shall give it to you,” he murmured as his hands wrapped around your waist and you felt your cheeks heating up. You looked down nervously and Annatar chuckled. “I can see there is something… Name it, my love.”

You hesitated. Perhaps he would find it to happen too soon. Perhaps he would find it not suiting him at all. But he was your husband with whom you had shared your whole heart, soul and body. He deserved to know about your desires.

“...A child,” you confessed, nearly inaudibly, still too shy to look up at his face.

You could sense his muscles flexing around you and becoming more stiff. The atmosphere changed in an instant and you regretted your confession immediately. After a long while of silence, you swallowed thickly and looked up eventually, filled with anxiety. Annatar’s brows were furrowed and his eyes lost the playful sparkle. He did not look angry but a bit confused and torn.

“F-forgive me. I know that a woman like me is not worthy of carrying a child of a man like y–”

“Stop it,” Annatar shushed you quickly and cupped your face to caress your cheeks with his thumbs as he kept staring deep into your eyes with a gentle expression. “I do not wish to hear of it. You are my wife. There is nothing you are not worthy of,” he insisted and you sniffled your tears back as he sighed. “If a child is what you wish for, I shall give it to you,” he announced after a short while but you could feel the hesitancy.

And you felt bad about it but you craved to have his child so much that you decided to ignore that hesitancy in his voice.

Therefore, you only nodded and you felt your husband’s hands lowering themselves onto your arms. He turned you around, so you would face Eregion again. And once you did, he placed his hands on your abdomen. At first, you found his gesture very sweet as your muscles relaxed. But the longer you stood like that in silence, the more uneasy you were starting to feel. There was a weird feeling forming inside of you – a new wave of energy coming from his hands and filling up your womb. Was it possible that…?

Well, he was an emissary of the Valars. He had many abilities and powers that the simple Elves could only dream of. You did not question it.

When he removed his hands, he kissed the back of your head and you furrowed your brows as you clutched onto the fabric of your dress on your abdomen.

“I can feel… I can feel a new life,” you turned around to meet his gaze. He was smiling at you kindly and lovingly as your eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I… I did not expect it would happen like that…”

“I am in full control of the act of my own procreation. It would not happen without my consent and will,” he explained and you nodded at him, too grateful and overjoyed to question anything.

Annatar placed his hand on top of yours and squeezed them as you let out a happy laugh through the tears of joy. With his free hand he wiped your tears gently.

“Were you in control of choosing if our child would be a boy or a girl, too?” You wondered out loud. Your husband nodded with a slight smile. “What will the child be then?”

“You will see, my love, be patient and allow it to be a surprise,” he leaned in to kiss your lips delicately.

For some reason, you were sure it would be a boy. Despite Annatar’s gentleness and kindness, he was a master of his craft and a man of tradition. He would surely want a successor.

You were so convinced that you were carrying his son that in the conversations about your child, you often referred to them as he. Annatar would only smile at you sweetly but also playfully.

Your child was born on a warm, summer night. You were in bed, surrounded by the female medics of Eregion. Celebrimbor was in his forge, nervously drinking wine and pacing around. But Annatar was by your side, holding you in his arms and letting you squeeze his hands, encouraging you gently with his sweet words and you swore, he was making some of the pain go away somehow. Whenever you squeezed his hand tighter, he would place his free one upon your forehead and the pain would slightly subdue.

The sound of your baby’s cries was like sweet music to your ears and your eyes filled with tears when one of the medics handed you the screaming newborn.

“It is a girl, my Lady,” she told you with a smile and you laughed out of happiness, taking the little one into your arms as you stared at her in awe.

“A girl?” You whispered, looking up at your husband. You were surprised but not disappointed – to have a little girl with Annatar was a vision of the future so beautiful that you could not stop the fresh tears from streaming down your cheeks.

He did not say anything to that, he only smiled sweetly at you and fixed the sweaty strands of your hair that got stuck to your forehead. Then, he leaned in to kiss the top of your head.

“How do you want to name her, my love?” He asked. “Your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” you fixed him and tried to hand him the baby. He froze for a moment but he eventually took the newborn child into his own hands as he kept staring at the little face with a very unreadable expression. “A-are you happy?” You asked, suddenly getting anxious.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Annatar nodded as his face lit up with a big grin. You sighed with relief and caressed the little cheek of your baby girl.

“Almárea,” you whispered. “Blessed.”

Focused on staring in awe at your little baby girl in her father’s arms, you nearly did not notice that he did not give you any reply. So, eventually, you looked up at him questioningly.

“Yes, yes,” Annatar nodded eagerly. “It’s perfect,” he assured you and handed you the baby back. “I shall inform Celebrimbor. He will be the most delighted,” he stood up and left the room.

A few years passed as your husband was helping your uncle to forge the rings that would save Middle-earth. And your sweet little Almárea was growing in the meantime – the older she was getting, the more you could see that she was a physical copy of you.

When you had asked your husband about it, he had answered that it had been the result of the fact his physical form was not definite, therefore his child could not inherit any physical traits. It was making you a bit sad because you would love to see bits of your husband in your offspring but you also did not want to complain about the things that did not truly matter in the end.

That she was Annatar’s daughter there was no doubt. It was something about her soul; her inner light differed from the other Elves. You could feel from the very first time you had held her that she was stronger and more powerful than any of the Elves inside Eregion. You were sure that she was truly blessed by the Valars due to her father’s origin.

When it came to Almárea’s character, though… You sometimes wondered what was causing the constant mischief, which was innocent but still present. She was a little deceiver and a little liar very often as she kept making up stories, playing tricks or making people believe the most absurd stories. Sometimes she was able to make people even see the things she was describing. Like that time when she kept blabbering about the beautiful butterflies flying all over the room.

And you saw them. You saw them all – shimmering in the light in all the possible colours. They were so beautiful that you kept laughing and trying to catch them as Almárea giggled. And that was how Annatar found you after coming back to your chambers from the day in the forge.

“What are you doing?” He froze, a little taken aback as he glanced at his daughter and then back at you.

“The butterflies, they are–” You tried to explain.

“Mummy is trying to catch the air, daddy. Is it not funny?” Almárea asked and you furrowed your brows at her.

“But the butterflies–” You started but as you looked around, they all disappeared. You looked at Almárea with a sour expression and she laughed.

“Oh, mummy, I am sorry. It was funny to watch,” she admitted to use treachery as she ran up to you and hugged your waist.

You did not like how malicious – even if in an innocent manner – some of her jokes were. But you could not be angry for too long. Not at your sweet little daughter.

“Oh… Well…” You hesitated nervously and patted her back. “It is quite alright, my dear. But that was not nice.”

“How did you do that?” Your husband asked, a little harshly. You gave him a soft look, trying to calm him down.

“She did not mean to be cruel, she had no idea that–” You began to make excuses.

“I am not talking about the so-called joke. I am asking about the illusion. Almárea?” Annatar approached you two and put his hand on your daughter’s arm to turn her around. The movement was not rapid but it was most definitely quite harsh.

“I just… I just think of something very hard and… And I can make people see things,” Almárea tried to explain as she looked down. “Is it something bad to do, daddy?”

“You are too young to play with such a gift,” Annatar’s face changed quickly from harsh to kind and gentle again as he smiled at Almárea and caressed her cheek. “Unwillingly, you have just been cruel to your mother and I am sure that was not your intention. You should stop playing with it for now,” he explained and Almárea nodded.

But you knew already that she would probably not listen. It was not in her nature to follow anyone’s requests, pleas or orders. 

The day started like nearly every other. You woke up in your husband’s arms and he was awake already – sometimes you wondered if he ever slept at all because you had never witnessed him doing so.

The hour was still early and you watched the sun rising in the skies outside your window, exchanging kisses and love declarations. However, on this day, your husband seemed to be a little tense when you peppered his jaw with  sweet little kisses. 

“What is it, my love?” You asked as you lifted yourself up on your elbow, still looking at his beautiful face and tracing the outlines of it with your fingertip.

“It pains me to say…” Annatar sighed and held your wrist softly as he put your fingers on his lips and kissed them gently.

“Why? What is it?” You furrowed your brows.

“It is about Celebrimbor and I know that what I am going to reveal is going to hurt you deeply, my love,” his eyes filled with sadness.

“Now you simply must tell me… You know how dear he is to me,” you shook your head, trying to read his face but all the years of sharing your life with Annatar, you had learnt already that it was an impossible task to ever know what was truly on his mind.

“I have spoken to him recently…” Annatar began and let go of your wrists to put his hands on your waist and roll you over onto your back as he hovered above you. “...about the rings that must be crafted. The Nine rings for the nine human kings to help their kin as well.”

“Yes…?” You swallowed the lump in your throat and gasped when his skilled fingers pulled your nightgown up. All those years of being his wife and his touch could still ignite the fire within you. You wondered sometimes how he was able to do it.

But now, with his fingers roaming all over your exposed skin, your mind was in haze and you were not able to think clearly.

“Oh, darling, I have no idea how to tell you… But your uncle does not think of humans to be worthy enough to have such rings,” Annatar revealed and you froze at his words as your eyes widened.

“T-that is impossible,” you refused to believe him although he would never lie to you. “My father… He was human and uncle Celebrimbor loved him and adored his craft. He loved him so much that he raised me after his death. It is impossible that now he refuses to forge the rings for humans… No, I refuse to–”

“That is the truth,” Annatar’s voice sent shivers down the spine since it had gotten harsh all of the sudden. “Why would I lie to you?”

“I am not accusing you of lying, I simply–”

“Yes, you are,” Annatar looked deep into your eyes as a spark of anger sparkled in his. His jaw was clenched and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, which was causing you slight pain. “He refuses to fulfil his mission and he thinks of your father’s kin as lesser.”

“I shall speak to him,” you promised as tears filled your eyes. Annatar softened immediately as his fingers went back to caressing you and he leaned in to kiss away the small tears upon your cheeks.

“Thank you… That would be very helpful,” he muttered between the kisses. “My love…”

You loved serving breakfast the most. You loved feeling useful and to take care of your family. It made you feel fulfilled in a way nothing else could, even though you did not mind running Eregion in your uncle’s name when he required it. However, seeing Almárea and Annatar by the table, eating the food you had prepared and talking about their plans for the day… That felt the most precious and the most special.

On that day, she looked up at you with big, pleading eyes as she watched her father preparing to leave for the day. He was standing in front of the mirror and swiftly tying some of his hair strands into a bow, which would protect his eyes from being interrupted while he worked.

“Can you do the same to my hair, mummy?” Almárea asked you. “I want to wear it like daddy.”

“I shall do it,” Annatar smiled at you both as he approached the breakfast table to stand behind your daughter’s chair. “Mummy must leave now and speak to uncle Celebrimbor,” he gave you a meaningful look and you nodded your head.

“Yes, that is right,” you confirmed. “Can you take her to her class once you’re done tying her hair?” You asked him sweetly.

“Oh, of course,” your husband replied and you kissed his cheek before leaning down to kiss your daughter’s forehead, too.

After that, you left your chambers and hurried to Celebrimbor’s forge. You were scared of this conversation and you had no idea how to start it as well. You couldn’t hide the fact that Celebrimbor’s sudden change of views hurt you deeply. You hoped that you could convince him to make up his mind but even the emissary of the Valars could not. On the other hand, you were closer to Celebrimbor than Annatar would ever be. He was like a father to you these days.

When you went inside the forge, it was empty. And even though you were supposed to look for your uncle, you could not help to just roam around for a while and take a deep breath in as you smiled to yourself at all the sweet memories you had with this place – like your father… 

He had been working alongside Celebrimbor and you would run around happily – sometimes getting scolded, sometimes being shown many interesting details about their craft. Sweet little half-Elven girl that would always make everyone laugh. And as time progressed, you had been growing up but not ageing – and for your father it had been the opposite. He had not been growing up but he had been ageing. And, one day, he had eventually become too weak to use the hammer.

Remembering all those bittersweet moments, Celebrimbor’s voice startled you a little as he stood by the railing of the stairs leading up to his study.

“(Y/N)?” He asked and you looked up with a soft smile.

“Uncle Celebrimbor,” you sighed with relief that it was only him you were seeing and not some sort of phantom or a ghost. You gathered your skirts and walked upstairs to join him. “I am here to speak with you… About a rather delicate manner,” you informed him and looked him up and down carefully.

Truly, he had changed. He looked exhausted and a little uneasy as if he was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. You immediately found compassion for his state.

“I am aware that crafting such powerful items has cost you a lot and you must feel overworked…” You started. “I know you have finished the rings for the dwarves not so long ago and I am not here to rush your progress. By all means, take your time, uncle, but your views about humans–”

“Was it him? Did he send you?” Celebrimbor’s face changed immediately. He looked concerned and a bit… scared? You froze at that reaction.

“What do you mean by that? Of whom are you speaking? My husband?” You asked, taken aback. “First, you are insulting my father’s kin… My kin as well… And now… Now you are trying to insinuate something about my husband? The emissary of the Valars?” You raised an eyebrow. “It was me who came up with the idea of speaking with you.”

“Have you not noticed yet, my sweet child, after all the years of your marriage, that he plants the seeds of ideas in people’s minds to make them think they came up with them on their own?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Even if it is true, I do not see what is wrong with it. He is here to fulfil the Valars’ plan to save Middle-earth. How can you say that forging the rings to save humans is below you?” You shook your head. “Protecting that which is most fragile, most dear, is a task entrusted to all Elves,” you reminded him. “If you abandon half of my kin now, in the hour of darkness, I shall never forgive you, uncle,” your voice trembled when you tried to reach his eyes with yours, to show him all your love towards him – but also all your pain.

“I do not think lowly of humans. I loved your father, he was my dearest friend… I just… I needed an excuse to deny your husband,” Celebrimbor sighed and looked away.

“Oh, uncle, if you are overworked, he is going to understand and give you time,” you put your hand on his arm but he flinched. “Annatar is the kindest, the gentlest soul I have ever met. You used to think the same of him. What happened?”

“Do you…” Celebrimbor’s eyes found yours, “...do you trust him?”

“With my life,” you gasped at the question. Of course you trusted your husband. What kind of question was that?

“Very well then,” your uncle nodded and sighed before running his hand down his face. “I might be overworked indeed… I need a break. And after that, I can go back to forging the rings. My senses are beginning to fool me,” he confessed. “Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to hurt you with my words.”

“Oh, poor uncle… Please, rest. Annatar will understand,” you assured him softly and wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug.

But Annatar was not as understanding to hear the news as you had been suspecting. He was smiling but the corners of his mouth twitched when you finished telling him how the conversation with Celebrimbor had been like.

“Of course, he can wait. He is an Elf. He lives for an eternity. But for the humans in Mordor time remains priceless… They suffer each day and their lives are short. I expected that you would know something about it, my love,” your husband nodded his head and walked away, leaving you a little speechless and hurt.

He was right. You had not fought for your kin strong enough but you also had too much love for Celebrimbor in your heart to keep arguing with him.

“I do understand, my darling. But I also have never seen my uncle in such an awful state,” you admitted. “He needs to rest,” you added, trying to make Annatar realise that, too. “He is not going to forge excellent rings when he is overworked and losing his senses.”

“He must finish the rings before they finish him first,” Annatar turned around to look at your face. His expression was quite harsh and it made you take a step back, therefore he softened immediately while approaching you. “My love, I am so sorry… I do not mean to be like this, you know that, right?” He put his hands on your arms. “But we are running out of time. Forging the rings for the dwarves took us years. It is going to take us another few more to forge the rings for humans, too. Therefore, we should start as soon as possible,” he tried to explain calmly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a heart in me to push Celebrimbor…” You shook your head and Annatar walked away rapidly as he turned his back on you to look out of the window. You spotted his fists clenching and unclenching but he remained silent. “I… I shall go to pick Almárea up from her class… I think she should be ready now,” your voice broke a little.

You had never expected you would have to choose a side between your uncle’s and your husband’s. They seemed to be such close friends and now…

But, before you left, you hesitated and turned around to look in your husband’s direction.

“You really should not…” You whispered, “force him to do it too soon. His mind is in the most fragile state now… He even… He accused you of–”

“Accused me of what?!” Annatar turned around quickly, startling you.

“I don’t know what exactly… But he asked me for some reason if I trusted you…” You confessed.

“And what did you tell him?” Your husband demanded an answer and his eyes turned cold. It was nearly impossible to remember at that moment that they could be so kind and loving, too.

But they were only this gentle way when everything was going according to his plan. And, so far, everything had been like that. Until now. 

You were aware, however, that his unusual anger was caused by the pressure that the gods themselves were putting onto his shoulders.

“I told him I trusted you. Of course I did. Annatar, you are my husband…” You answered, surprised that he had questioned you like that. “Perhaps both of you need a break. You are acting differently, too,” you pointed out before leaving to walk your daughter home after her class.

On your way home you bumped into your friend Mirdania. She began telling you stories from the forge and Almárea was growing bored as she stood there, holding your hand and drawing circles with her foot.

“Almárea, you can go upstairs already,” you informed your daughter. “Daddy is there.”

She nodded at you and waved Mirdania goodbye as she ran away to disappear inside the tower in which your chambers were. You watched her with a smile on your lips, especially at the sight of the bow in her head – now slightly crooked after a few hours – trying to resemble her father’s one.

Mirdania kept you occupied with her chatting for a longer time after that and you kept listening to her with a soft smile but when she eventually informed you that she had to go back to work, you were grateful. You went inside the tower with a slight eye roll as you began walking upstairs to go back to your family.

When you opened the door and heard Almárea’s giggles, you smiled widely, expecting her to play with her father as they sometimes would. But when you went inside the room where they were sitting together, you spotted Annatar being on the verge of lashing out. Almárea was chuckling and tilting her head slightly – an undeniable sign that she was projecting something onto her father’s mind at this very moment.

This time it was you walking in on Annatar being fooled. But he was not about to take it as lightly as you.

“Stop it,” Annatar drawled out. “This is not funny. Stop it!”

“What is going on here?” You looked at your daughter and her smile froze. “Were you not forbidden to play your tricks, Almárea?” You asked her and approached Annatar to put your hand on his tense shoulder.

“Daddy wanted me to try!” Almárea explained and stopped the visions from happening.

“You did?” You looked down at your husband with a raised eyebrow but he only stood up and walked away to stand on the balcony. He was angry and visibly unsettled. “What did you show him?” You asked your daughter.

Something was telling you it had not been butterflies.

Almárea shrugged her arms and avoided your gaze. You furrowed your brows and sighed, following your husband outside.

“Do not be upset, my love. I am sure whatever she has shown you was of an innocent nature,” you began softly. “Now you know how it feels like when she’s in one’s mind,” you chuckled nervously. “She did not mean to scare you.”

“It was not the vision itself that scared me,” Annatar turned around to look at you. He was still disturbed and surprised as his fists clenched around the railing of the balcony. “It was the fact I was not strong enough to make it stop. Could you ever do that?” He asked you and you opened your mouth a little. “I should be able to make it stop easily.”

“I have never tried,” you admitted. “I do not know, I cannot say…”

Annatar snorted at that and looked away again. His knuckles turned white from squeezing the railing so hard and you put your hand gently on top of his.

“Why does her power scare you?” You asked. “Is it of an evil kind? If so, how could that happen? You are the emissary of the Valars; made of pure light–”

“And you?” Your husband turned around again to meet your gaze. “What do we truly know of your heritage? Was your father not from The Southlands? And the humans of this realm… Were they not the ones who had followed Morgoth out of their own free will?”

His words hurt like knives. You took a step back and shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. The man in front of you was not the man you had married – gentle, soft, kind, noble and humble. But you refused to believe it was his fault. He had changed just like uncle Celebrimbor – and it was all caused by the fact they had been working so hard… too hard… on the rings.

“Mummy… Daddy… I am sorry,” your daughter’s voice interrupted you as she entered the balcony as well. She looked up at the both of you and sniffled. Your heart clenched at the sight and you crouched down to fix the bow in her hair.

“It is quite alright, my dear. It was not your fault, you only did what daddy asked you to,” you gave your husband a stern look.

“I…” Annatar cleared his throat. “I was simply curious about this… gift.”

“Is it evil, daddy?” Almárea dared to look up at him with so much curiosity, respect and admiration that your heart filled with love once again you chose to forget about his hurtful accusations.

“No gift is good or evil, Almárea,” Annatar smiled softly at her as his eyes filled with kindness again. “It is us who choose how we use our gifts.”

“Daddy is right,” you nodded and kissed her forehead before standing up and Almárea hugged Annatar’s waist. He put his arm on her back and caressed it although he still looked as if he was overthinking something.

“Can I go to uncle Celebrimbor now? He promised to teach me a little about the gemstones!” Almárea smiled widely at you and you nodded. She clapped her hands and ran out of your chambers.

“I am going to start forging The Nine on my own, by the way,” Annatar announced to you when you were left alone with him. “Celebrimbor might join when he’s ready. However, the work must not stop,” he pointed out.

You bit on your lower lip and eventually nodded your head. You approached him and caressed his shoulder, though, trying to soothe him.

“I wish you gave yourself a break as well. You are overworking yourself,” you whispered.

Annatar held your hand and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. At this very moment he was radiating nothing but love, warmth and kindness. You squeezed him tighter and sighed with relief.

“Do not worry about me. I am going to be nothing but fine but I shall not rest until all Middle-earth is healed. Forgive me for my previous harshness,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Please, do not even mention,” you shook your head and kissed his lips briefly before giving him a sweet smile. He smiled back at you and cupped your face to caress your cheeks. “What did she show you, my love?” You asked, still curious. Annatar’s face went back to serious immediately.

“I asked her to show me something nice,” he explained. “And so she did… She showed me my greatest desire.”

“And that is…?” You frowned.

“The rings. All of them. Forged,” he answered and you nodded.

“She is too young to understand the importance of these items and your mission in Eregion…” You pointed out. “How was she able to penetrate your heart like this?”

“Now you know what truly scared me, my love,” Annatar nodded softly and the fear in his eyes was truly genuine but you spotted a sparkle of excitement there as well.

“Should I worry about her?” Your voice trembled.

“No, no… Not at all,” your husband pulled you closer once more to soothe you. “Her gift – if used correctly – might be the most useful for all the peoples of Middle-earth.”

“How so?” You mumbled out the question and Annatar hesitated with the answer before smirking slightly.

“Only time will tell.”

MASTERLIST

[therandomfandomme]

We're all going feral over the whole "Mercy? Mercy?" which is so valid of us, but the way mercy comes back as a theme in this final saga is really interesting to me, because before this, Odysseus is asked for mercy, for forgiveness:

"Old king, our leader is dead

You've destroyed the serpent's head

Now the rest of us are no longer a threat

Old king, forgive us instead

So that no more blood is shed

Let's have open arms instead"

"No"

He has become Poseidon, the one that first forced him into believing that mercy isn't something he can afford ("Look what you turned me into"), which is made doubly poignant with Eurymachus echoing the open arms of Polites ("Greet the world with open arms"). Now I'm not saying he should have forgiven the suitors for what they were planning on doing, however, this interaction directly informs this one later:

"Throw down those weapons

And I ensure you'll be spared"

"After seeing what the king will do to us

We wouldn't dare"

Because Odysseus doesn't show mercy to Eurymachus, Melanthius doesn't want to take the risk when Telemachus extends mercy to them, which then leads to the starting interaction.

When extending mercy and creating a kinder world is discussed again, it's by Athena. She is the original god, who pushed him towards a lack of mercy, who found that a warrior of the mind is one that showed not mercy and Odysseus believed her during the war, even threw a baby of a roof about it, and it wasn't until after that he rebelled her teachings only to be forced into it by other gods (Poseidon and Zeus most specifically). To which this is said:

"If that world exists, it's far away from here

It's one I'll have to miss, for it's far beyond my years

You might live forever, so you can make it be

But I've got one endeavor, there's a girl I have to see"

"Very well"

"Father, she's waiting for you"

I especially want to highlight that Odysseus says it is beyond his years. He has become that monster and he can't undo that in the years he still has. If this is to happen, then it must be the future generations that Athena has to influence to make that world. Having her reply to that getting interrupted by Telemachus is very purposeful to me. Because he does still extend mercy, he is the new warrior she trained and she trained him differently because her belief changed.

But I also think having her show Odysseus her face with the lightning scar as she agrees is very telling. When she pushed Odysseus to be ruthless she had not been on the other end of no mercy, which is what makes Odysseus turn against her ("Unlikе you, every time someone dies I'm left to deal with the strain"). She now has been on the other side of it by the hands of someone Odysseus also faced and they were both shown the same lack of mercy. For Odysseus that was his final turning point where he chose no mercy, while Athena did chose mercy.

And in the end, she did get some mercy from Zeus in response from it. Zeus also learned from her, from the lesson Odysseus taught her, which was taught to him by Polites. And that mercy gets paid forward allowing Odysseus to get home (yes, I'm emotional about Polites helping Odysseus get home in the end). Almost every time mercy is shown, his journey progresses (Lotus eaters, Aeolous, Circe, Zeus).

Athena has been through not receiving mercy, but she still believes, is still working towards that future. And while she accepts Odysseus words about him being beyond such a world, she doesn't agree with him. Her reply feels more like accepting a dismissal rather than an agreement. And Telemachus shows up as a reminder that she is more correct than Odysseus in this, and he leads them into Penelope.

God, I love Penelope. With her, Odysseus tells someone yet again that he has changed ("I am not your kind and gentle husband") and that he would understand if she did not love him anymore. And then we get this banger:

"Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you"

Penelope shows him mercy in this. She has asked him what he has done and she is given the option to not want him anymore after hearing about the monster he's turned into, but she doesn't. She forgives him. He asks for forgiveness and she grants it. That is mercy.

Not only that, but she also affirms that he is still him. The usage of husband here is important to me, because he says he's not her husband, who was gentle and kind, and she tells him that he is. He believes him beyond that world where people are empathetic and kind, but the roots of that world he created in Ithaca and with Athena allow him to come home. He isn't a monster beyond redemption, he is also a part of that kinder world, regardless of what he has done.

And then you have the music echo the Just a Man melody when Odysseus sings:

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home

Even after all the years away from what I’ve known

I'm just a man who's fighting for his life

Deep down I would trade the world to see my son and wife

I'm just a man"

He is brought back to who he was when he was still just a man, before he became a monster. He did trade the world to see his son and wife and that makes him just a man.

The whole musical asks the question when a man becomes a monster and I think while it is never explicitly answered, that the answer is: when he isn't shown mercy. And that by showing someone mercy, you can reverse that. That it isn't permanent. I really love the moral question of mercy vs. ruthlessness in that Epic has, so it was really interesting to see how it came back in the end :D

[paddockletters]

shattered hearts | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you break free from a toxic relationship, embarking on an exhilarating journey of self-discovery

warning: emotional abuse, infidelity, toxic relationship, angst

author's note:this was hard, so hard omg... as I always say, english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I met Lando when we were barely out of high school. Back then, he was just a kid with dreams and a mischievous smile that made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered. For a while, I believed that was true. But as the years went by, I learned that Lando's smile wasn’t mine alone—it was shared with others, stolen moments behind my back. And somehow, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, the couple everyone thought would either crash or last forever. We did crash—over and over again. But somehow, Lando always found a way to convince me to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say, voice low and pleading after one of his inevitable affairs. “But you know you’re my number one, right? None of them matter like you do.”

He’d wrap his arms around me, pull me close, and somehow, I’d believe him. I had to because after eight years of being with him, I didn’t know who I was without him.

The first time he cheated, I was devastated. It was in his early F1 days, just as his fame started to sink in. He swore it was a one-time thing that it didn’t mean anything. And like a fool, I believed him. But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. There was always another girl, another excuse, another lie wrapped up in the promise that I was still the "main one."

One particular night, I remember the argument that nearly broke us for good. Lando had been out late, and I found out through a mutual friend that he had been seen with another girl. Again. When he came home, reeking of alcohol and guilt, I confronted him.

“You said you were going to change, Lando!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “You promised me, over and over again, but nothing ever changes!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You always come back. You always forgive me,” he shot back, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation.

His words stung like a slap to the face. I wanted to scream, to leave right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because a part of me still loved him, or maybe it was the idea of him—the boy I met before the fame, before the lies.

As the years rolled on, our friends saw the cracks. One night during a get-together at a bar, I tried to put on a brave face. I thought maybe if I acted normal, I could convince myself everything was fine. But when Jess pulled me aside, her expression serious, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you like this?” she asked, frustration evident in her voice. “You deserve so much better, and he’s just going to keep doing this until you realize it.”

“Maybe he’ll change. I can’t just throw away eight years,” I replied defensively. “We have a history.”

“You mean a history of him cheating on you? You have to stop putting up with this, or you’re going to lose yourself,” she insisted, shaking her head.

I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. I just wanted to believe that things would get better. That Lando would see how much I cared and finally choose me over everyone else.

Our mutual friends began to pick sides. Some supported me, while others were loyal to Lando. It was suffocating, a constant tug-of-war that made everything feel so much worse. I felt more isolated than ever, even when surrounded by people.

Then there was the jealousy. Lando was incredibly possessive, especially with his fellow drivers. During one race weekend, I was talking to Charles, who had just finished his session. Lando walked in, and his eyes darkened.

“Why are you always chatting up the other drivers?” he snapped, pulling me aside as Charles walked away, giving us a questioning look.

“Because they’re my friends, Lando! Just because you’re in F1 doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re not my warden,” I shot back, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You know how it looks,” he hissed, jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I knew he was being unreasonable, but I was too exhausted to fight back. Our friends watched the tension build, hoping to intervene. I overheard Max once whisper to Lando.

“You need to chill, mate. You’re pushing her away.”

But Lando always had an excuse for everything, often deflecting blame onto me.

“You just don’t understand how this world works!” he’d shout, leaving me feeling small and defeated.

The cycle continued, and I found myself in the same painful arguments over and over. One night, after he came home late from a party, I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” I shouted, my voice echoing through our apartment. “You’re always out with other girls! How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I told you, you’re the main one! None of them matter!” he retorted, but his words felt hollow to me.

We spent that night in silence, and I knew I had to make a decision. I just didn’t know how to let go.

The more time passed, the more I began to distance myself from Lando. Therapy helped. I began to see the truth behind his words and actions. The way he manipulated me, made me feel guilty for his mistakes. The way he made it seem like I was the one at fault for staying, like I was to blame for the pain he caused me.

During one therapy session, I shared my frustrations.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back to him. He’s hurt me so many times, and I just can’t let go.”

The therapist asked me one simple question: “Do you love him, or are you just scared of being without him?”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know the answer.

One evening after another brutal fight, I finally left. For good this time. I packed my bags while he watched, silent for once. Maybe he thought I’d come back, just like I always did. But this time was different. I walked out the door, leaving behind eight years of memories, both good and bad.

The nights were long and lonely, and I often found myself thinking about the happy moments we had. One flashback struck me particularly hard: it was the first time he had taken me to the paddock during a race weekend, and we laughed like kids as he showed me around.

“Can you believe this is my life now?” he had said, beaming with pride. “I never would have thought I’d be racing in F1.”

“I always knew you could do it,” I replied, squeezing his hand.

But now, those memories felt tainted, and I needed to focus on myself. It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right decision. But with time, and with the help of my therapist, I started to heal. I began to see that I deserved better, that I deserved someone who would love me the way I had always wanted Lando to.

One evening, after finally leaving Lando for good, I found myself at a racing event with friends. It was a chance to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions I was navigating. As I wandered through the paddock, I was drawn to the sound of laughter.

“Are you lost, or just overwhelmed by all this?” a smooth voice asked. I turned to see Pato O'Ward, the charming IndyCar driver, grinning at me. His eyes sparkled with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something hopeful.

“I guess a little bit of both,” I replied, smiling back.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered, his energy contagious. As we walked through the paddock, he shared stories about his racing experiences and the thrill of competing. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who was passionate and genuine, without the weight of expectations or drama.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself spending more time with Pato. He was everything I had needed—funny, respectful, and utterly devoted. He listened to me, understood my past, and never once made me feel like I was in a competition for his attention.

One night, after a thrilling race, he took me to a quiet spot overlooking the track. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to find someone who truly sees you. I see you, and I want to be that person.”

His words resonated deep within me, filling the void Lando had left. In that moment, I knew I had found something special with Pato, something I had longed for but never thought I could have.

Meanwhile, Lando had his own set of problems. He was still juggling relationships, using his charm to keep people around while juggling jealousy over his fellow drivers. I heard from our mutual friends that he was still stuck in the same toxic patterns, always in and out of relationships, always claiming that I was the one who got away.

I remember a race weekend when Charles and Lando got into an argument. I was watching from the sidelines with Pato when Charles approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? I know things with Lando have been… complicated,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lando, who was across the paddock, still fuming.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve moved on,” I assured him, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

Later that evening, I got a message from Lando, who had obviously overheard the chatter.

“I know you’re happy with him, but you’re still mine. You always come back to me, remember?”

It took everything in me not to respond. I had a new life now, a new partner who respected me and didn’t cheat. Lando’s words were just echoes of the past.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, my heart racing with excitement. Pato had become my rock, my partner in every sense of the word. I knew this was the right choice, and my heart was finally at peace.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lando.

“I heard you’re getting married. Just wanted to say, I hope you’re happy. But I still think about you. We could’ve had it all, you know.”

I stared at the message, my heart pounding. For a moment, I considered replying. But then I remembered all the sleepless nights, the tears, the heartbreak, and all the promises he had broken.

“Too late,” I typed back, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

As I walked down the aisle, Pato’s face lit up with joy, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When he took my hands in his, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t known in years.

The ceremony was beautiful, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t felt in years. When Pato took my hands in his, I knew I was finally moving forward.

As we exchanged vows, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of my mind, but I let it go.

“I promise to love you through every challenge and to celebrate every victory,” he said, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life,” I replied, my voice steady and full of conviction.

We sealed our vows with a kiss, and I felt liberated. Lando was no longer my story; I was the author of my own life now, and it was a beautiful beginning with Pato. With him by my side, I was ready to embrace the future we would build together, thriving in a relationship based on trust, respect, and love.

As time passed, I learned to appreciate the small moments—the laughter, the late-night talks, the shared dreams of a future together. Pato supported my passions and encouraged me to pursue my own ambitions, something I had never fully experienced before.

One day, I received a message from Max: “Lando’s been a mess since your wedding. He didn’t handle it well.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. He had always taken me for granted, and now, he was the one left behind.

I hoped Lando would find peace eventually, but I also knew I couldn’t go back to the pain of our past. Pato was everything I needed, and I was determined to focus on our life together.

As our first anniversary approached, Pato planned a surprise getaway. “I want to celebrate us, everything we’ve built,” he said, a bright smile on his face.

We traveled to a beautiful beach destination, where we spent our days relaxing, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. One night, under a sky full of stars, Pato took my hand and said, “You’ve changed my life for the better. I want to keep building this amazing life with you.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears. “You’ve shown me what real love looks like, Pato. I’m so grateful for you.”

His expression softened as he leaned in, kissing me gently.

Then, one day, I got a call from Lando.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What do you want, Lando?” I replied, my heart racing.

“I just need to explain… things didn’t go as planned after you left. I’ve made mistakes, and I want you back.”

I paused, memories flooding back. “You had your chance, Lando. I can’t keep going back to the past. I’m happy now. I’ve moved on.”

“But I still love you!” he pleaded. “You were always my main one!”

His words echoed painfully in my mind, but I stood my ground. “You had your chance to prove that. You made your choice.”

The phone call ended, and I sighed with relief. I looked at Pato, who was sitting beside me, and smiled. I had made the right choice.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Lando was no longer a part of my narrative. My life was filled with the warmth and love Pato brought into it, and I was excited for the future we would continue to create together.

With Pato, I had learned to love again, not just him, but also myself. And that made all the difference.

Lando’s chapter had closed, and I was finally ready to start anew, with someone who truly valued me, not just as the ‘main one,’ but as the woman I had become.