#been trying to let it go Trying to keep my eyes closed Trying to keep it just like before The times we never even thought to speak Don&039;

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[frenchie-simone]

Logan Howlett x f!reader: breeding kink/baby trapping

warnings/tags: SMUT 18+!!!, f!reader, unprotected piv, breeding kink, baby trapping, overstimulation

a/n: this ain’t very good and not proofread either but i needed to get my thoughts written down cause… i want Logan to put a baby in me or whatever. if i forgot any tags or warnings let me know!!

maybe you should have worn a condom. in all honesty, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, you’d been too occupied with the need to feel every single inch and vein of Logan’s rock hard cock inside of you.

now, here you are, getting pounded into the bed from the back, with Logan thrusts growing more and more desperate. his moans of pleasure match your own, with your face turned to the side, cheek squished against the mattress. the tip of his length kisses that sweet spot deep inside repeatedly, and you’re close, so close. and by the twitching of Logan’s cock inside you, he must be as well.

“ngh! I’m close, Logan!”, you mewl, struggling to even make words come out by the sheer intensity of his thrusts. Logan only grunts in response, his body coming to rest on top of yours while he keeps rolling his hips into you with no remorse.

“f-fuck, come for me, baby. n-need you to” he stutters out, his thrust growing unsteady but desperate. he hits that sweet spot again, and with a cry of his name, you tip over the edge, your eyes rolling to the back of your head whilst he keeps pumping into you relentlessly. he feels you clenching down on his cock, and he lets out a ragged moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. then suddenly, without warning, he empties his load inside of you. you gasp as you feel his seed spill into you, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Logan slumps down on your body, nearly crushing you beneath his weight, but he’s trying to hold himself up with his forearms planted on either side of your head. to your shock, he keeps lazily drilling his cock into your overstimulated cunt, somehow spilling even more of his cum. you whimper beneath him, unable to move much.

“Logan!” you try to scold him, stop him, but he only growls in response. eventually, his emptied all of his cum into your aching hole, and his hips still.

“m’sorry… needed to cum in you” he mumbles, but there’s no real apology in his voice. despite your better judgment, his words are so hot, and you can just about mutter out a response.

“I’m not on birth control…” you remind him, but you’re shocked when you feel his cock become hard again. he growls in approval, his teeth latching on to the soft skin of your neck.

“good. gonna have you stuffed full with my seed, your belly all swollen with my cubs…” he says, his tone gruff, his eyes almost feral. your eyes go wide, equal parts terror and arousal in your expression. his teeth sink into your skin, not hard enough to pierce, but enough to make you squeal.

you can’t bring it in yourself to refuse, to protest. so you let Logan flip you over on your back, and he almost immediately starts thrusting into you with a newfound vigour and urgency.

at the end of the night, when Logan is finally spent, and you feel like a used ragdoll, you lie on your back, feeling your mixed releases slowly spilling onto the bed. you whine and when you suddenly feel Logan’s two thick fingers plunging into your used pussy, plugging his cum in you.

“can’t have it go to waste, baby…”

[darkbluekies]

In the hands of a madman 2024 ver

Doctor!yandere oc x reader

Summary: a doctor is very peculiar about his favorite patient, and senses a threat once they disobey him.

Warnings: yandere, poison, murder, cuff restraints

Word count: 2.4k

You gag.

“Yes, yes, I know”, he coos, grimacing and removes the wooden stick out of your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

You're left with a bitter taste in your mouth. Why does he always stick that thing as far down your throat as humanly possible? You thank heavens that it’s not one of the needles extracting blood from your arm, although you’re sure that’s what’s waiting tomorrow.

“Still nothing?” you ask cautiously. 

He meets your eyes and you know immediately. You sigh heavily. Your heart sinks to your stomach. 

Every three months, he’s doing all sorts of tests to see if you’re getting better — or what’s what he’s saying. Every three months, Dr Kry has to check every vital sign on you to make sure that his sickness isn’t getting out of his control. But you don’t like them. They hurt. Badly.

“Will I ever get to go home? I want to.” 

Dr Kry sighs and sits down on his rolling stool, coming over to your bed.

“I know you do, but you that’s not possible”, he says apologetically. “You know that too.”

“Yeah, because you keep reminding me”, you mutter. 

“That’s better than giving you false hope, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that drive you insane?”

It would, but you don’t say it out loud. Doesn’t need to.

“I want to go home!” you say again, louder this time. 

“Saying it louder won’t make you better or me change my mind”, Dr Kry says. 

You sigh and press your palms to your eyes, trying to press the tears back into your eyes before they escape. You’ve been here for too long by now. You’ve been isolated for so incredibly long. ALl you want is to go home. You know no one, talk to no one beside him. The proper, sophisticated man who’s stiffer than a stick. Dr Kry sighs and moves closer. 

“I know that you’re disappointed”, he says and puts his large hand on your shoulder. “But this is for the best. “I don’t want you to get worse.”

“I hate these fucking tests! They hurt.”

“I know.”

He glances towards the white air purifier on the shelf beside the bed. The poisoned air purifier. He’s always making sure it’s not too much, not too little. Just the exact amount to keep you where he wants you — weak and vulnerable, dependent on him. 

“I know it’s hard”, he says encouragingly. “I know that you’re in pain, but you’re doing so good. You can always call for me if you need me, okay? I’m available all day and night for you.”

You press forward a smile, but can’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. Why did this happen to you? Where did you go wrong to end up here? How could a sore throat get you bed bound in a hospital room? If only you knew. 

“Let’s get you tucked in again”, Dr Kry says and helps you lie down in bed. “You shouldn’t be putting to much pressure on your body.”

He pushes up your pillows, having you lie in a 45-degree angle. It helps you breathe at night. He always tucks the blanket close to your body, as if you were a butterfly in a cocoon. He gives you a small smile before standing up. 

“Please don’t go”, you whisper. “I don’t want to be left here.”

The man looks at you, studies you carefully before nodding and sitting back down. He wipes your lonely tear with his finger. He looks at his wet finger, thinking. 

“I feel helpless”, you admit. “I don’t think I’ll ever get well again.”

Little do you know that’s exactly what he wants. 

“It’s okay, Y/N”, he says. “I will take care of you. I will stay with you until you’re well again.”

He has to force back a smile. 

“I don’t want to do these anymore”, you say monotonously. 

“I know you don’t, but you have to”, Dr Kry says apologetically and moves closer to the bed on his rolling stool. “They’re important.”

“They hurt …”

“I know, but you’re doing so good, okay? I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a small, painful smile. 

“I’ll sit here until you fall asleep, don’t worry”, he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes slowly. He fades out. 

He takes blood tests the following day. Needles, pain.

“Now, you need to take a nap”, he says and tucks you in. 

The daily afternoon nap. You hate it, but he insists. While you sleep, he’s out taking care of other patients that are not you. He hates it, hates wasting his time and skill on people that aren’t you. Those patients are one time patients that are there for surgeries, consultations or checkups. No long term patients that have to stay in the hospital. Everyone gets to leave after he meets them. Everyone but you. You stay. 

You keep your eyes closed until Dr Kry leaves the room. Quickly, you sit up and get out of bed. After all these fucking tests, you’re deserving of something else than the tasteless cardboard Dr Kry gets you. Just one brownie. Something that has sugar. And maybe some coffee for caffeine too. 

Quietly, you sneak out into the corridor. There’s something about these sterile passageways that makes the hair on your back stand on its end. Is it the dehumanized area or the fact that you’re never allowed here? Is it nerves or excitement? Whatever it is, you decide to speed up your steps and hurry towards the elevators before anyone sees you. They’ll tell him. Just as the doors are about to close, someone stops the doors. A boy dressed in a similar hospital gown as yourself forces his way into the elevator. He gives you a rushed, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry”, he says sheepishly. “I am in a hurry.”

“What happened to you?” you ask and smile halfly. 

“I escaped from the therapist. A real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help but giggle. The young man licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Have you met her?” he asks. “The therapist?”

“No”, you say. 

You haven’t met anyone but your stiff and proper doctor. 

“Don’t”, the young man advices you and leans his back against the wall. “She’s mental. I honestly think she should be the one getting interrogated — not me.” He looks at you, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Do you meet others?” you ask. 

“In the lounge. Have you been there?”

You shake your head and lower your eyes. 

“Did you just arrive?” the man asks. 

You shake your head again. 

“How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

The elevator stops and the doors open at your floor. 

“Are you going to the cafeteria?” the man asks. 

“Yes”, you reply. 

“I’m coming with you. Maybe you can help me blend in.”

“Okay.”

The boy seems frantic, but happy. Running on adrenaline and excitement. Together, you walk through the hospital to the cafeteria and realize that you don’t have any money. Your shoulders fall. Did you come here for nothing? 

“Aren’t you going to order something?” the young man asks. 

“I don’t know”, you reply quietly. 

Before you have the time to come up with a lie why you can’t order anything, you recognise something in the corner of your eye. A blonde man dressed in a white robe. You feel your blood run cold. 

“What do we have here?” Dr Kry asks and you have a hard time reading his tone or facial expressions. “What do you think you are doing out of bed?”

He walks over to you and grabs your shoulder. You flinch. His grip is … tight. Painful. 

“You’re supposed to rest”, Dr Kry says shortly.

He looks at the young man. His eyes seem to go right through him. 

“Where are you supposed to be?” he asks. 

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry gives him a cold gaze before grabbing your upper arm in a tight grip. He doesn’t say anything as he starts to pull you with him. His steps are quick, steady. Angry. 

“Doctor …”, you try.

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry pushes you into the elevator and presses the button. He doesn't let go of your arm.

“Doctor, I’m sorry”, you say. 

He still doesn’t answer. You barely dare to look at him. There’s something about his face that scares you. It's stoic, unreadable. But he oozes anger. Like a dark cloud.

The elevator stops, the doors open. His tight grip remains as he drags you back into your room.

“Lay down”, he instructs shortly.

You do, too scared to disobey. Dr Kry walks past you, to the drawers by your bed. He rips out two leather bands that look like belts for dolls. Before you're aware of what he's doing, he's strapped one of your wrists to the bed railing.

“Wait, doctor-”, you blurt out.

“Be quiet.”

He locks your other wrist to the other railing. You tug at the restraints, and find them secure.

“Are they too tight?” Dr Kry asks, still with that short tone that sends icy needles down your spine.

“Doctor, what are you-?”

“Answer the question. Do they hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He turns to his desk, ignoring you.

“Doctor, I'm sorry”, you say.

“You broke my trust”, he says without giving you any attention. “It's important, for your healing, that you do not deceive me. I need to be able to trust that you do as I say. How many times have you done this?”

“Only this time, I promise.”

He doesn't answer. You feel how your eyes fill with tears. Your body is in such a vulnerable state that your body betrays you. You didn't want to upset him, didn't want to put your own health at risk by doing this. 

“I'm sorry, doctor”, you sniffle. “I didn't mean to break your trust.”

He sighs and turns his head to look at you. His blue eyes soften and he rises from his chair, coming over to your bed. He can't stay mad at you, not when you're clearly dumb. You don't understand, he can't be mad at you for not understanding. He should — and is — mad at himself for not foreseeing these situations and making sure you don't do it.

“You know that I only want what's best for you, don't you?” he asks and wipes your tears with his hand.

“Yes”, you reply.

“In that case, I want you to never repeat this mistake. Mistakes are forgivable, but they should be minimized, do you understand that?”

“Yes. Do you forgive me?”

He has to force back a smile. You're so unbelievably cute.

“Yes, I do forgive you”, he says. 

“Can you take off the restraints?”

“No. I might forgive you, but I need you to know what happens once mistakes occur. This is the consequences that follow. If I can't trust you to be where I want you to be, I need to take precautions to make sure you are.”

You lower your gaze.

“Who was that, by the way?” he asks. “That young … man. Why did you speak to him?”

“I don't know, he took the same elevator as me.”

“I don't want you to speak with him again. If he's the one they're looking for, I don't want you getting influenced by his reckless ideas.”

“I don't get to speak to anyone, anyways.”

“And that's how it should be. We don't know why you're sick, and you shouldn't contaminate someone else.”

“What about you, then? You can get sick too.”

“I'm ready to take that risk.”

He's too nice, you think. All he wants is to take care of you and you put his selfless risks to hell when you decide to disobey him. How horrible of you.

“Now, you need to take that nap for real”, he says. “I will sit by my desk. If you need something you can just let me know.”

He walks back to his desk and sits down, starting to file some paperwork. You tug at the restraints. You're not going anywhere.

When you’ve fallen asleep, Dr Kry makes his way through the hospital. They’ve captured that young man and put him back into his room … and Dr Kry wants a talk with him. He opens the door quietly. The young lays in bed, sleeping. Dr Kry circles around him, taking a good look at him. Did you find him cute? Hot? Did you like talking to him? Did you think that he was better than him? Did you enjoy those ten minutes with him more than these months with Kry? Do you want to meet with him again? He glares at the sleeping man. Dr Kry walks over to the supply closet, an identical to the one in your room, and takes out one of the spare pillows. Silently, he walks over to the bed, lifts the pillow and presses it over the young man’s face. He widen his eyes, pulled out of his slumber. He screams against the pillow, his voice getting muffled in the fabric. 

“Normally, I’d make this easy for you”, Dr Kry grunts as the man starts to fight against him. “Out of pity, but you don’t deserve that mercy.”

He screams in confusion, fear. Dr Kry can make out words. What. No. Help. Stop.

“Just give in and give yourself that mercy”, Dr Kry continues. “If you continue to fight against me, you’ll be in more pain.”

The man cries. Dr Kry breaks out into a smile. 

“You’re going to die either way, you can choose to end it quicker.”

The young man doesn’t seem to get the memo. He continues to fight, cry, plead. He drinks it all in. The horror, the helplessness. The dear in headlight. He has seen the light in people’s eyes disappear multiple times during his job as a doctor. To see the moment someone becomes just a piece of flesh. He has never enjoyed it as much as now. The man stops moving. Dr Kry removes the pillow and takes a step back, looking at the lifeless body. He breathes out. Finally, he can calm down. 

And now, all he needs to do is to make sure he can not be traced back. 

He finds you sleeping soundly as he comes back to your room, wrists still locked to the sides of the bed. You make his heart ache. He sits down beside you, brushing his fingertips over your cheek. 

I control your life, my little one. You’re going to say with me and I’ll take every repercussion to make sure you don’t disappear. 

[res-on8]

I've had episodic hemiplegic migraines since I was 11 years old. I'd usually get them 1 to 3 times a year, and I kinda just assumed that's my migraine. That kind of migraine is very dramatic and noticeable, so it felt like that had to be the only way I got a migraine.

In the last year and a half or so, I've had a vague awareness that I get headaches petty often. I never kept a close eye on it, I either took pills or I deemed them not bad enough to do so (or, honestly, I stopped registering the mild ones). I've also had various other weird things pop up lately (like dry mouth and jaw soreness), and some things I've sorta had before get more frequent ot worse (like neck stiffness/aching and "icky stomach" where I wasn't nauseous but food sounded bad even if i hadnt eaten much that day).

A couple weeks back, I started noticing a weird sensation of being unsteady and wobbly when I walked, but it was on and off. I didn't know what to think at first, but I got a blood draw for blood sugar levels, metabolic stuff, and thyroid bc of family history. All came back normal.

I started putting pieces together and realized that this might just be chronic migraines. I've started a spreadsheet to keep track of various symptoms that I've noticed but never thought much about. Randomly not being able to stop yawning even if I'm not tired, irritability, visual and/or audio overwhelm/sensitivity, dry mouth, icky stomach, brain fog/forgetting words, can't speak clearly (slightly slurring my words). Even in just a week and half, I have finally noticed how frequent this is and how these often all happen around the same time.

Additionally, I keep a log of how I felt each day and other things I did, and I've been doing it very consistently just before bed for YEARS with Daylio. I've had "headache" on the app for nearly 2 years as an option I will select. Looking back on the data in the last 1.5 years, I have a headache about 1/3 of the days of the year. And I would guess that's an underestimate bc of silent migraines or the pain "not being enough to count" since it doesn't last long or isn't that bad even though it happened. I wouldn't doubt that I forget or completely overlook some instances bc they're so common or not painful enough.

THIS IS NOT NORMAL.

But it took until being "wobbly" when I walked to seriously consider this wide array of symptoms being from one source. I was a software trainer for nearly 4 years, and I thought my inability to remember words was a failing on MY part and I was just bad at being a trainer lately.

I learned my lesson the hard way. I have an appointment with my PCP in a week with the intention of stating my suspicion of chronic migraines and asking for a neurology referral. But because of reading this post, I am going to declare this is chronic migraines AND that I would like to try preventative medicine ASAP and a neurology referral as well.

I'm not gonna let myself suffer more than I already have, and I am going to be assertive about this. I'm lucky my PCP is very good and listens to me, but I still cannot leave room for more suffering physically and blaming myself for shortcomings that migraines are almost definitely the cause of.

here's your regular reminder that if you consistently, regularly get headaches, you are almost certainly having migraines, not regular headaches.

MOST recurrent headaches are migraine headaches.

"migraine" does not mean "extremely painful headache." it is a type and source of pain, not a degree of pain. migraines can also include some or all of the following: fatigue, sensitivity to light and sound, visual auras, nausea or vomiting, dizziness, cognitive impairment, etc. these symptoms can be mild or severe and it may actually be difficult to determine if you have them. (who wants a bright light in their eyes during a headache?? i thought that's just how headaches were lmao.)

this is important because while aspirin, NSAIDs like ibuprofren, and other over-the-counter pain meds can effectively alleviate migraine pain, getting diagnosed with migraines allows for a wider range of treatments and preventatives.

it's also important because, in my opinion, your average general practice doctor is not equipped to diagnose you with chronic migraine. don't go to one expecting them to. a neurologist with migraine specialty is a better option, although a regular doctor can still be useful if they listen to you lol.

my life would be miserable and unmanageable without sumatriptan. and i never would have gotten a prescription for sumatriptan if i hadn't gone to my GP and said, "i have migraines and want to try migraine medicine," even though at the time i wasn't 100% sure that was true.

if you have chronic headaches, they're almost certainly migraines. if no one has said that to you before, let me be the first. start treating your migraines.

[jellyfishsthings]

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

The BAU team arrived at the small town of Crescent Hills, ready to investigate a series of gruesome murders. The victims all shared similar physical characteristics. The team quickly realized that the killer was targeting women who looked exactly like you, the same hair, the same eyes and somehow personality, which had to be the scarriwst part of them all.

As the team discussed their next move, Spencer couldn't help but stare at her. She was the spitting image of the victims, but she seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, she suggested that she pose as bait in order to catch the killer. She was the agent her mentor made her, because Hotch would have done the same in a heartbeat. Yet as Hotch looked at the young woman standing at his side, standing tall and holding her head high with pride and bravery, wearing a mask of calmness hiding her whirlwind of emotions with quite the efficiency.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the thought of his best friend putting herself in danger. His hands shook with dread and anxiety and his mind raced to a million directions as his heart seemed to weight a few tons more than usual. He was so confused. He had always seen her as a friend, but in that moment, he couldn't deny the intense feelings he had for her. Yes he had always cared for her, and wouldn't wish any harm in her way, but at this moment he desperately wished to have been the genius he claimed to be, to find a way out of this, to solve this without any one getting hurt, to keep her safe and alive and well next to him, hoping she felt even a sliver of the intesity of his emotions. He knew he couldn't let her go through with this plan. He had to act quickly, not caring if he embarrassed himself in the process.

"You can't do this, it's too dangerous," Spencer pleaded with the her, his eyes shining with unshead tears as he saw her walking in her hotel room, trying to make herself more appealing for the UnSub.

"I can handle myself, Spencer," she replied confidently."Do not worry. I have been trained from the best." She whispered as she lightly hugged him and kissed his cheeks and the storm raging inside of him seemed to calm down for a few short seconds.

But Spencer couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had been so focused on his work and solving the case that he hadn't even realized his true feelings for her until now. As the team set up a plan, Spencer couldn't help but keep a close eye on the Reader. He couldn't let her out of his sight. But as she put herself in harm's way, Spencer's heart was in his throat

The warehouse was quiet, the ominous shadows twisting around the corners like specters waiting to strike and fear started clawing its way to her heart. Derek Morgan’s voice echoed in her mind; “You’re one of us, kiddo. Trust your instincts.” But in this moment, trust felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.

She was second guessing herself now as well as her abilities. Maybe she had made a mistake. She had volunteered without hesitation, knowing the stakes were high. A string of brutal murders had terrorized several towns, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to understand what made this killer tick. But she had never expected that the very thing she sought to uncover would entrap her instead.

As she stepped deeper into the warehouse, darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The cold was biting, but the fear coursed through her veins like ice. She had set off the sound of a chilling recording, a mocking lure that had been crafted specifically for the UnSub. The air was alive with tension, every creak of the old metal structure amplifying her dread.

“Just breathe,” she murmured to herself, but her heart raced faster with every passing second. Somehow, despite the adrenaline's flow, she felt an unsettling calm, as if her body was preparing for something inevitable.

She thought of the team back at the BAU. Hotch would be analyzing their data, Emily and Derek keeping their wits about them, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Spencer Reid’s gentle voice. He was always a soothing presence, with his deep well of knowledge and quirky sense of humor.

“Remember when I tried to teach you how to play chess?” he whispered in her mind, a memory flooding back. They had been at a coffee shop breaking down a case when she had confided that she hadn’t learned the game as a child. With a persistent twinkle in his eye, he taught her the basics, patiently explaining the rules as she fumbled through the moves. They laughed when she mistakenly thought pawns could move diagonally anytime.

In this dark warehouse, she recalled how he had once said, “You have to think several moves ahead. In chess, just as in life.” She held onto that wisdom now, fighting to stifle her panic.

The quiet was shattered by footsteps echoing through the maze of crates and rusted metal. She steeled herself, adrenaline rushing through her as the UnSub emerged from the shadows. He was a tall figure, cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a mask that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She fought the surge of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. How? How had he been expecting her? She was a trained spy for the love of God, before joining the BAU, had she rusted her abilities this quickly? It had only been five years. Five wonderful, free years.

She couldn’t falter. In her mind, she anchored herself to another memory: a sunny afternoon with Reid. They had shared ice cream on a picnic blanket, debating the best flavors like children. He had quipped that pistachio was underappreciated, while she insisted on the classic chocolate chip cookie dough.

“You’re practically a gourmet, aren’t you?” she teased, and his laugh had brightened that day, sunlight dancing in his eyes.

But now, there were no sunny picnics; shadows danced along the walls as the UnSub advanced towards her. She could see glimmers of rage flickering in his eyes, an intensity that struck fear into her heart.

“Let’s see just how strong you are,” he hissed, gripping her arms in a vice-like hold. She gasped as pain shot through her, but even as she winced, she summoned the memory of Reid, who had taught her the importance of mindfulness in the face of fear.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, fueling her resolve with every ounce of anger she could muster.

But he laughed, a cruel sound that sent tremors of dread through her. The sharpness of reality cut through her feelings of safety, and she swallowed hard, desperately piecing together scattered memories, trying to fund the best course of action but it was already to late. She felt sluggish and slow, something was wrong.

She tried to find the good memories, to find courage and strength, such as Reid’s infinite patience, his love for obscure trivia, the whimsical way he could make her smile even in the darkest of moments.

“Your game is over,” the UnSub snarled, his breath hot against her skin.

As he began to carry out his twisted intentions, she closed her eyes tightly, conjuring one last memory, one that radiated warmth in the encroaching darkness. The night Reid had confessed his fears of inadequacy, only to find solace in their bond, his fingers grazing hers in comforting reassurance, his eyes reflecting the kind of understanding that only comes from empathy.

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, even as fear clawed at her soul. “No matter what happens, I’m not afraid. I will not give you the satisfaction of the perfect murder, trust me it will be a fight to bring me down.”

"Oh, but you have already lost. I think you must be feeling it be now."

Her heart pounded with the realization that she might not escape. But in those harrowing moments, as she fought against the loop of pain and despair, she anchored herself in the love and camaraderie of her team—every shared laugh, every overcoming of hardship. No matter what happened, they would carry her spirit forward.

In those last flickers of consciousness, she thought of Spencer, his brilliance, his laugh, and the unyielding strength of their bond. She hoped he would forgive her for failing to bring him the answers they so desperately needed, all while holding onto the belief that even the darkest of nights must give way to dawn.

With that thought, she embraced the memories that would never fade, hoping they would echo in the hearts of those she loved, a reminder that even in their darkest hours, they could find light.

Then the darkness came.

The cold grip of fear tightened around Spencer Reid's heart as he stood in the dimly lit acting conference room of the BAU, a small desk office of the local police station. The air was thick with tension and the weight of impending decisions that could alter their fates. He paced the floor anxiously, running a hand through his tousled hair while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

“Guys, we can’t go through with this,” he implored, turning to face his team, his voice a tremor of desperation. “The unsub is more unpredictable than we anticipated, and we can’t risk her life. What if—”

“It’s not just about her,” Derek Morgan countered, crossing his arms. “This mission aims to take down a dangerous criminal. We need to act fast before he slips through our fingers again.”

“But what if he targets her, Morgan?” Spencer’s voice escalated, echoing in the room. “I've analyzed his patterns. If she’s involved, she’s at extreme risk. We can’t afford to lose her!”

Emily Prentiss, caught between the mounting urgency and Reid’s grave expression, glanced at the other agents. “We have to trust our instincts, Spencer, but you know we all understand the risk involved. We can deploy a secondary team to protect her—”

“No!” Reid snapped, panic threading his tone. “You don’t understand. I can’t shake this feeling. What if this is a trap? She shouldn’t be there. We need to stop this. We need to call it off.”

The room fell silent as his pleas hung in the air, but time was running out, and the team had a job to do. With reluctant determination, they gathered their gear and left the conference room, unknowingly walking into the lion’s den.

Spencer’s heart raced as he followed them, a whirlwind of dread washing over him. They arrived at the location of the suspected meeting and quickly fanned out, but dread settled deeper in his chest as time ticked away.

Minutes felt like hours, and Reid’s worries morphed into a nightmare. Suddenly, over the comms, a shout broke through the chaos, and panic pierced the stillness. “She’s down! She’s down!”

Spencer’s instinct kicked in, but it felt like running through molasses as he pushed past his teammates. His breath quickened dramatically. He reached the scene, and there she was—Her body lay still against the cold asphalt, pale and lifeless.

Everything around him blurred as the sirens wailed in the distance, blending into an agonizing scream that reverberated in his mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, an overwhelming despair crashing down like a tidal wave. “No, no, no…” he chanted, disbelief coursing through him as the realization sank in.

He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the emptiness where her spirit should have been. “Stay with me. Please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started CPR. Each pump felt futile, desperation fueling his actions—A metronome to the rhythm of her fading heartbeat.

“Come on, please! Breathe, breathe!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he pressed harder, not willing to accept the undeniable truth standing stark against reality—a truth that seemed to throng his senses.

Suddenly, strong hands pulled him backward. “Spencer, let the medics handle this,” a voice shouted through the fog of his anguish. It was Morgan, trying to wrestle him back to reality.

“No! I can’t! I won’t let her go!” Reid screamed, thrashing against the hold, fighting against the gravity of grief. But the world around him was collapsing, everything turning hazy, the wail of the sirens growing louder, drowning him in despair.

“Spencer!” Morgan’s voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He was pulled away from the scene, from her cold body that lay so still. The agents moved in, the medics began their work, but Reid felt as if a piece of himself was being torn apart, the agonizing reality sinking its teeth deeper into his soul.

He fell to his knees, the weight of his failure crashing into him like a heavy stone, unyielding and unforgiving. Tears streamed down his face as he watched helplessly, the ache in his chest mimicking a gaping wound.

Desperation clawed at him as he realized that no amount of pleading or data could bring her back. And in that moment, the chaos of the world faded away, and all he knew was a profound loss that reverberated through every fiber of his being.

And then the impossible happened. She was still bleeding, covered in deep cuts by a knife that would scar her for life. Yet her chest lifted lightly before falling down.

Once.

Twice.

He was sure he was dreaming of it. His mind playing a trick on him, not being ready to register his life without her existence.

But no.

It was true. She was breathing.

[karmasloverrr]

godspeed - rafe cameron

pairings- rafe cameron x maybank reader, established relationship

SZN 4 SPOILER!!!!!!!!!!!! you’ve been warned

this takes place in ep 10 right after everyone’s fighting and all that

———————————————————————————

The adrenaline was still running through your vains, like the hot, dusty sand you all found yourself in over the past couple of hours. Your hands are shaking, can’t fully grasp the weight of what you’ve just done.

“Baby?” You snap out of your shocked haze when a pair of comforting, familiar hands come to rest on the side of your waist , “a-are you ok?” His blue, stress ridden eyes bore into yours.

You take a shaky breath in, letting the gun you held drop to the ground below your feet. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you jump up into him. “He almost killed you, Rafe. I thought I was gonna lose you, I-I didn’t have any other choice, he was so close to-“, your rambling was paused by him shushing you quietly and rubbing a hand soothingly up and down your back, his other gripping the back of your head like his life depended on it.

“I know, I know, breathe Y/N, breathe” You were sobbing now. Not out of remorse for one of Dalia’s men, whom you had just shot dead out of defense for Rafe, but because you almost lost the love of your life.

Rafe pulls away, still keeping a hand on your back, keeping you close. “You just saved my life, Y/N. I’m so proud of you for being strong, it’s gonna be ok.” He was now using a thumb to wipe the tears falling from your eyes.

You nod frantically in understanding, sniffiling and leaning into his palms touch. Bringing a hand to his on your cheek, you intertwine fingers. “Are you o-ok? I mean you almost just got stabbed, Rafe. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if-“. He places both hands on your face now, demanding your attention.

“Hey, listen to me. You did exactly what I would’ve done if you were just in my situation, ok? Hell, I would’ve beat that fuckers face in before I let him get the chance to even go near you so don’t overthink this for a second, do you understand? I love you so much.”

You licked your lips and nodded. After Rafe had told you to stay with Kiara when he went to bide JJ some time with the crown, he got into trouble with one of Dalia’s men and hadn’t come back. You couldn’t stay still knowing he was by himself.

Despite protest from Kiara and how your brother needed you right now, you ran to look for Rafe. You could hear the sound of distress and punches being thrown before you could see them. Even through poor visibility you knew it was Rafe, your Rafe, being attacked. As you got closer you could see that he was being held at knife point and without thinking you pulled the gun out that rested at your hip and fired at the man’s back.

With JJ’s constant tutorials and a little bit of practice over the years you hit your target dead on. Except this time it wasn’t a beer bottle or a teddy bear, it was a human being and nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

Rafe continued to try and work you down from the shock and complete panic, rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your hairline. He eventually brought a smile onto your face when he praised your accuracy and said how bad ass it was, “that’s my girl”.

“It was kind of badass wasn’t it?” He let out a laugh at your rebuttal. Even in your state of mind, the sound of it made your stomach tingle with butterflies.

“If I’m gonna be honest, after I realized what just happened and saw you standing there, I got a little turned o-“, you scoffed at his antics and pushed him away from you playfully. “Shut up.”

He pulled you back into him before you got any farther, wrapping both arms around your waist, in turn you grabbed his biceps, looking into the eyes that you love so much.

You let your smile fade a little when you saw his eyes glaze over, knowing he was about to get emotional.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You saved me and I couldn’t possibly thank you enough, please don’t feel guilty or anything like that. I would do anything for you too, y’know that.”

“I know, and seeing you like that, in that danger, made me sick and I-I just blacked out.” He nodded slowly in understanding, “but I’d do it again if it meant that you were ok.” you continued.

You were now the one stroking his arms in comfort, his head nodding up and down telling you he was processing it all. Now putting yourself on your tip toes to reach his face, you placed your lips on his in a loving kiss.

Pulling away, you placed your forehead on his. “It’s you and me, Cameron. Always.” He pulled away and placed a loving peck on the crown of your head, “Damn right, sweetheart.”

Taking his hand in yours, you began to walk back towards the direction that Kiara and JJ were. “Let’s go see if J found this fucking thing.”

Rafe scoffed but followed your lead, “I’ve had enough of this fairytale pogue sh-“, you gave him a ‘really?’ look, to which he held his hand up in defense and shrugged.

“They’ve made it this far, you’ve gotta hand it to them and besides, this is a little exciting don’t you think?”

He frowned and shook his head, “Almost just got stabbed to death but yeah, sure, having a grand old time.” You giggled at his sarcasm, used to it by now.

Walking up the hill, you exaggeratedly began to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to which he protested against immediately stating “this isn’t a rom-com, please stop” but deep down, he loved seeing you make light out of a shitty situation.

He knows it’s due to you being so used to doing it because of Luke growing up, which never fails to make his heart beat in rage, but everything in his world is ok, perfect, when he gets to see you smiling like this.

When you both reach the top, there’s an absence of your little brother and Kiara that causes your smile and stomach to drop. The sandstorm passed yet they’re still nowhere in sight.

“JJ?” you call out, in hopes that they’re possibly somewhere in ear range. Nothing.

“J! Kie! Guys?” You let go of Rafe’s hand, heading to go circle around the statue.

“Woah, don’t go by yourself. If they’re someplace close by they sure as hell didn’t stick around here, let’s head back towards the buildings. They probably met back up with John B and Sarah.”

You shook your head, “No, if they got the crown and were ok, they would’ve just came and found us. Rafe, somethings not right.” You started to head more towards the statue in hopes that they went a different direction but Rafe steps infront of you before you can get any further.

“Hey, stop. I know you’re worried but incase you forgot, it’s not just them that Daria’s men are looking for, ok? I’m not letting you get hurt in the process of trying to find them.”

You took the arm that he held out to his side as a barrier and shoved it. “Rafe, that’s my brother, please we need to at least look around the area and see-“ He began to side step along with you so you couldn’t move around him.

“I understand that, Y/N/N, but let’s use the brain I know you have and think rationally, alright? They probably went back with the group assuming we were there too, ok? Let’s start there.”

You shook your head in annoyance, you’ve always been stubborn and you’re certainly not budging about this. “All I’m saying, Rafe, is that we check around the area first, m-maybe they didn’t hear me when I yelled.”

“Baby, please listen to m-“

“John B! Pope! Y/N!”

You whipped your head to the direction of Kiara’s wail echoing through the air. A sound of desperation like you’ve never heard and don’t wanna hear again. “Oh my god.” you whispered in fear.

Rafe looked at you with agony in his eyes, recognizing the same fret in her voice that you did. Without any hesitation you took off down the hill, not listening to Rafe’s protest to “wait for him”.

Your mind was moving as fast as your legs, you didn’t know where you were going but it’s like your body knew exactly where to take you.

Weaving down and through the same maze like corridors that you had escaped from earlier led you closer to the sounds of your friends, “Kie?”, you yelled out in despair, now acknowledging Rafe’s footsteps a few seconds behind you.

You felt the room before you saw it, your stomach already declaring that somethings wrong, very wrong. Before you could brace yourself, you saw the image infront of you. Blood. John B shaking him. Kiara with her head on his chest and hands on his stomach. JJ.

“JJ?” you didn’t even recognize your own voice as it barely came out of your mouth, cracking and whispery, desperate and defeated.

Stumbling to a halt against Rafe’s chest, you felt your legs giving out from underneath you, a pair of arms coming to catch you before you collapsed. No, not him, please God, don’t do this to me, no. Rafe’s arms were the only thing keeping you stable while you began to crumble, him collapsing down to the floor with you as weeps exited your mouth, shaking your whole body.

You didn’t have to look at him very long to know he’s gone, you could feel it. Sobs and pleads from the group didn’t register against your own. It sounded so foreign coming out of your body. “He’s dead” you sobbed, physically feeling your heart breaking. “JJ, no”, you wailed. Your head feels a thousand pounds as you slowly lift it off the ground.

Rafe has his own placed against the top of your spine, his forehead making a known presence on your back, still gripping your arms as if you’ll go too if he doesn’t. To the best of your ability you try to stand, legs still feeling mush as you feel Rafe’s touch disappear the closer you get to your little brother.

Halfway through, you give up on the poor excuse for walking and collapse back to the ground again, now crawling towards his lifeless body. “JJ, wake up, please!”. The only sounds you can hear is the ringing in your ears, your sobbing screams and your heart breaking.

Your palm meets his face, already feeling so cold and lifeless, the exact opposite of JJ Maybank. “Please don’t do this to me. W-wake up, JJ!”. You continue stroking his cheek, patting it lightly a few times, hoping, begging, pleading for your brother to wake up.

Stroking his hair, you shake your head out of disbelief. Hushed whispers exit your lips, trying to reach the deepest parts of him.“I can’t do this without you JJ, don’t leave me.” It’s been you and him against the world, the shit hand you’ve been given wasn’t too bad when you had each other to fall back on.

Growing up you found solice in each other, you didn’t need anyone to help you or comfort you, you had your little brother and he had his older sister. When Luke was to drunk to help JJ get ready for school in the morning, it was you brushing his hair, picking out his outfit, making his lunch. With your mother long gone, you took pride in being that figure in his life and it was your greatest achievement, seeing the man he had turned into, no matter how rebellious and defiant, you loved him like your own, and now that he’s gone, what’s left for you?

“Who was it? Kiara, who did this to him?” you now turned your attention from JJ to Kie, her looking just as horrified as the rest of the group. A look of disgusted rage took over your face, your stomach bubbling with hatred.

She sniffled before speaking, “Chandler, h-he stabbed him, I- JJ saved me and gave him the crown, I don’t know- I can’t.” She began to sob, recalling the traumatic moment.

Motherfucker. If the betrayal wasn’t enough, knowing JJ was just trying to save his loved one and this is how he’s repaid?

You can’t see or think straight, one moment you’re mourning the loss of your best friend and the next you’re taking all the strength you have left and standing up with the gun on your hip, reloading the clip and heading towards the direction Kie said he went.

You don’t get very far before Sarah and John B rush to your side. “Y/N. Stay. We need you right now. Don’t do this.” You shake them off of you, sending your elbow into John B’s stomach in the process. “Get the fuck off of me.”

You whip around and point the gun at the group, they look at you in shock, not processing what’s going on. Your breathing is uneasy as you lick the forming sweat off your lips. “If any of you touch me one more time, I swear t-to God. I’m going to kill Groff and none of you are getting in my way.”

Looking around you see the faces of your best friends, sad, confused, and angry. The gun pointed at them has your stomach dropping. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” The gun you have aimed at them is making you sick all over again.

Rafe takes a few hesitant steps forward when he sees you begin to rub your chest anxiously, knowing it’s your way of trying to work your way down from a panic attack.

“Sweetheart, put the gun down, ok?” None of his words are registering with you. He’s gone, he’s gone, JJ’s dead.

Rafe catches you just before you start to collapse again, this time into the comfort of his chest and arms. He takes the gun that’s hanging loosely from your hand and reaches it behind his back for John B to take.

“Rafe, he’s dead. He’s g-gone.” sobbing the dreadful words into his chest, his shirt catching your tears. You’re both on the ground now, him cradling you like a toddler as he rocks you back and forth in comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, baby.” He strokes your hair and rubs your back, soaking in all of your pain. Your sobs begin to muffle as the others join in with you, still begging JJ to wake up, to open his eyes and to come back.

The weight of the air feels similar to your chest, no matter how much comfort and apologies Rafe whispers into your hair, it’s still not enough, your baby brothers gone and he’s never coming back.

The warmth of the fire fans your face. Emotionally and physically drained is where you and the Pogues have found yourself. Rafe keeps a steady eye on you as your head leans against his shoulder, knowing the last time you spoke was a few hours ago when he buried JJ, none of you being able to bring yourselves to do it.

Stray tears slip down your face, your expression remaining uninterested and dry. The only sound that can be heard is an occasional sniffing from the group and the cracks of the wood in the dying out fire infront of you.

You feel Rafe’s heartbeat against your back and his chest move when he talks. “I don’t know. If it was my friend I’d probably go after the guy that just killed him, yeah?” You take a steady breath in, getting ready to defend him when Pope tells him to “shut up”.

“You guys think that JJ would just sit here if it was one of us?” The whole group turns its attention to you, knowing you’ve been far too quiet for far too long, like JJ, you can be a ticking time bomb in moments like these.

John B is the first to speak up, “We all know what JJ would do. He’d get even.” You nod, still looking at the fire, kicking some sand as you stand up to begin pacing in rage.

Rafe watches your moves carefully, ready to defend you and back you up for whatever you’re about to say. He trusts you and he’s knows your best interest, you could tell him the sky was purple and he’d agree, while placing a loving kiss on your cheek.

You shake your head in agreement, feeling the never subsided rage bubble back up into your throat.

“Revenge.”

———————————————————————————

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Just A Prank

Franco Colapinto x Fem!reader

minor angst and a lot of fluff

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 and 2 Masterlist

The day began like any other. You and Franco had both slept in, rare and cherished moments of rest squeezed between the constant hum of his career as a Formula 2 driver. Lately, every moment together felt extra special—his season was nearing its end, and with it, the uncertainty of what would come next loomed ever closer.

That morning, you both lounged on the sofa, Franco’s head resting comfortably in your lap as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his messy dark hair. You could feel the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body leaning into yours. He seemed unusually relaxed, but you could also sense an underlying tension—like he was holding something back.

“Do you want to go out for a walk later?” you asked, trying to pull him out of his pensive silence.

Franco looked up at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’d rather stay like this for a bit longer,” he murmured, leaning up to steal a kiss. “Besides, who knows when I’ll get the chance to do this again.”

“Franco, don’t be so dramatic,” you chuckled, but his words stirred something inside you. You both knew the competitive nature of racing, the constant push to perform, and the slim chances of moving up to Formula 1. He’d been hoping, of course, but you could feel the weight of the uncertainty. It had been pressing on both of you, silent and unspoken.

As the day wore on, you found yourself nestled in the little routines that made life with Franco feel so complete: cooking breakfast together, debating which show to watch, laughing over silly inside jokes only the two of you understood. The hours passed, and you found comfort in his presence, a sense of home you never thought you’d find so soon in life.

Then, in the early afternoon, Franco’s phone rang. The sharp sound cut through the quiet, and he tensed immediately.

“Hold on, amor,” he said softly, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the screen. “It’s my boss… I need to take this.”

You watched him slip into the next room, closing the door behind him as he answered. You felt your heart rate pick up, your mind running through a million scenarios. You knew he’d been anxiously awaiting some news about next season, but he hadn’t said much—always downplaying it, always acting like it was no big deal. Yet you could tell it mattered to him more than he let on.

Minutes ticked by, each one dragging longer than the last. You strained to hear snippets of his voice, but it was muffled behind the door. Your stomach churned with nerves, and you hugged a pillow to your chest, wondering what could possibly be taking so long.

Finally, he emerged, his face unreadable. You searched his expression, looking for any hint of what he’d heard, but he just sighed, walking toward you with a faint smile.

“So…” he said, plopping down beside you, trying to look nonchalant. “Looks like next season… they’re, uh, bringing someone else in to replace me.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest. “What?” you whispered, wide-eyed with disbelief. “Franco, no—there’s no way! You’ve been amazing this season! Who would they possibly bring in that’s better than you?”

He shrugged, looking away, his face somber. “Apparently they want a different direction or something.”

Anger bubbled up inside you, your face heating as you struggled to keep your composure. “I’m sorry, but that’s insane. You’ve worked so hard, Franco. You don’t deserve this! It’s not fair!”

Franco bit his lip, struggling to contain a grin. You were too furious to notice.

“I’ll call them,” you continued, clenching your fists. “I’ll go down to the paddock myself if I have to and demand answers. They don’t realize what they’re giving up.”

“Y/N,” Franco interrupted softly, his voice trembling slightly with laughter, “it’s a joke.”

You froze, trying to process his words. “A… a joke?” you repeated, blinking in confusion.

He laughed, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into his embrace, his whole body shaking with laughter. “Yes, cariño, a joke! They didn’t replace me. They actually… called me up. I’m going to F1.”

For a second, you couldn’t speak. Relief and shock hit you in equal measure, a tidal wave of emotions threatening to spill over. You blinked, your mind racing to catch up. “Wait, Franco, are you serious?”

He nodded, his eyes shining with excitement, a look you’d never seen before. “I am. I didn’t want to get my hopes up until I knew for sure. But yes… I’m moving up to Formula 1.”

“Franco!” you gasped, grabbing his face in your hands as the reality of it set in. Pride, love, and pure joy swelled in your heart, and you leaned in, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to his lips. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “So… do you still want to go to that fancy dinner? I think I could use a celebration.”

You didn’t need any more convincing. After changing into something special for the occasion, you spent the rest of the evening out together, every laugh and glance shared over the candlelit table a reminder of the journey you’d both been on together, and the exciting path that lay ahead. It felt surreal, like a dream you both dared not wake up from.

The restaurant was perfect—a quiet, candlelit spot with a warm ambiance, the kind of place where you felt like the world outside melted away. It was just you and Franco, tucked into a cozy booth with glasses of deep red wine glinting in the soft light. You both had eyes only for each other.

As you sat down, Franco took your hand, his fingers warm and familiar as they laced through yours. He began tracing soft, invisible circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, a simple gesture that sent gentle shivers up your spine. You caught yourself smiling, wondering if he realized just how much these little touches meant to you.

“Who are you most excited to see on the grid?” you asked, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. You knew he had a few favorite drivers, people he looked up to and couldn’t wait to work alongside. The mere thought of him among the ranks of those he admired filled you with pride.

“Ah, I can’t lie,” he said with a grin, leaning closer. “It has to be Alonso. To think that I’ll be racing alongside him… It still doesn’t feel real. And Verstappen, too—I’ve watched them since I was a kid, you know? To be up there with them, fighting for positions on the same track…” He shook his head, a little awestruck, and you could see the light in his eyes, that spark of a dream coming true.

You squeezed his hand, feeling his excitement wash over you like a wave. “It’s everything you’ve worked for, Franco. And you deserve it more than anyone.”

He gave you a bashful smile, a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I’d never have made it here without you, Y/N. You’re my biggest supporter, and that means the world to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, brushing his cheek softly. “It’s just… I’m so happy to see you finally getting what you’ve dreamed of. It’s going to be incredible, Franco.”

The two of you settled into an easy rhythm of talking about the future—where he’d be traveling, who he’d meet, the circuits he was most excited to race on. He laughed as he recounted stories of watching past races as a kid, how he’d imagined himself on those tracks, feeling every turn and straight as if he was already there.

“To celebrate,” he began, leaning back with a mischievous smile, “we should travel somewhere just for us. No circuits, no media. Just the two of us, like old times.”

Your eyes lit up. “Like a real holiday?”

He nodded. “Exactly. We could go somewhere quiet, off the grid. A beach, maybe. Just us, some sunshine, no worries.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, a smile spreading across your face. “After your first race, we’ll sneak away and have our own little victory tour.”

Franco laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a date, then.” He raised his glass in a toast, and you clinked yours against his, both of you laughing, a gentle warmth in the air as the wine brought out the color in his cheeks.

As he sipped, he looked at you thoughtfully. “What about you, Y/N? This is going to be a huge change. Are you ready for all the travel, the media, the madness?”

You felt his fingers lace through yours a little tighter, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. You took a breath, holding his gaze. “Franco, I’ll follow you anywhere. This is your dream, and I want to be there to support you every step of the way. I’ll be right there, cheering you on, reminding you to eat, helping you decompress after every race. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his face softening, his eyes full of that love that had been there from the beginning. “I’m the luckiest guy alive, you know that?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice caught as you noticed something over his shoulder. At a table just across the room, seated side by side with familiar expressions of pride and warmth, were your parents. They were dressed for the occasion, looking right at you with knowing smiles, raising their glasses in your direction.

“Wait… are those… my parents?” you whispered, glancing back at Franco, utterly bewildered. “What are they doing here?”

But when you turned back to him, Franco was no longer in his seat. Instead, he was down on one knee beside you, his warm hand still holding yours. In his other hand, he held a small, velvet ring box, his face a mixture of nervousness and undeniable love.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet steady. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special. You’re my best friend, my rock, and the reason I’ve been able to dream as big as I have. I can’t imagine facing any of life’s twists and turns without you by my side. I want to spend every lap of this life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the enormity of the moment crashing over you. You could feel the warmth of his hand still holding yours, the love in his gaze steady and unwavering. You could only nod, whispering, “Yes, Franco. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The restaurant broke into applause as he slid the ring onto your finger. He rose to his feet, pulling you close, and you laughed through your tears, burying your face in his shoulder as the joy of it all overflowed. It felt as though time had stopped, as though the two of you were the only people in the room.

When you pulled back, your parents were there, wrapping you in hugs, congratulating you both. You looked back at Franco, his eyes never leaving yours, that same quiet joy radiating from him.

In that moment, you knew that no matter where this life took you, every twist and turn would be worth it because you’d be facing them together.

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[eu-nicola]

Morocco part 1

summary: Rafe says goodbye to Sofia and leaves her in outer banks while he goes to Morocco, where you are also and the danger that happens there rekindles the spark both of you thought had lost

warnings: mention of death, weapons, cheating, pregnancy, etc. only things of s4

word counter: 9000

author's note: spoilers of s4, many things have been changed but there are still spoilers, english is not my first language, this is long so get ready to read

There was a warm breeze blowing in from the ocean, bringing with it the smell of salt and adventure. You stood on the shore, watching the waves crash against the sharp, black rocks of the Outer Banks coastline. The sunset dyed the sky deep oranges and reds, painting long, brooding shadows across the sand. In the distance, the lighthouse flickered with its intermittent light, marking time. Your thoughts were filled with questions now that you were going to Morocco, and Rafe’s silhouette approaching along the wooden walkway only intensified that unease. 

Rafe had that look in his eyes that you had always found difficult to read, a mix of defiance and nonchalance that gave him an almost untouchable air. He walked with a confident gait, hands in his pockets, white shirt fluttering lightly in the wind. When he was close enough, you stopped, feeling tension take hold of your muscles. He noticed your expression and, without a word, stood beside you, staring out at the ocean as if you shared a secret that only he understood.

“How are you?” you asked, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded shakier than you had planned. It wasn’t a casual question; you both knew he was carrying a heavier weight. His eyes narrowed just a little, and after a moment that seemed like an eternity, he let out a sigh.

“Sofia is going to stay here,” he said suddenly, as if he had been waiting for you to ask. His words fell like stones to the bottom of your stomach, sinking you into a feeling of emptiness. “I didn’t want to risk taking my future wife to Morocco.”

It took your mind a while to process what he had just said, as if your brain had hit an unexpected wall. Future wife? The icy surprise ran across your skin, leaving you feeling cold in the stifling summer heat. You forced yourself to keep your composure, to not let the confusion become visible, but it was too late: Rafe was already watching you with that look that knew too much.

“Are you engaged?” you finally asked, trying to make your voice sound natural, but feeling the lump in your throat tighten a little more with each word. He gave you a slight smile, which barely curved his lips, but was reflected more intensely in his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, and the weight of that simple statement crushed your chest. You looked back at the horizon, looking for a respite in the immensity of the sea. The waves continued to break, indifferent to human emotions, while you struggled to maintain the balance between surprise and the pain that you did not dare to let out.

Rafe nodded, his smile wider and more sincere than yours. “Thank you,” he said in a tone that revealed a kind of relief, as if he had been waiting for your reaction with hidden caution. There was a moment of silence, awkward and dense, in which neither of you moved or looked away from the ocean. The waves continued their eternal back and forth, and for a moment you wondered what it would be like to be anywhere else in the world, a place where Rafe’s words couldn’t reach you and where the echo of “future wife” didn’t resonate in your mind like a persistent hammering. 

The breeze blew harder, carrying with it the echo of distant laughter and the voices of seagulls, and as Rafe looked back out to sea, you felt everything moving around you, except you. 

You fell silent, allowing the sound of the sea and the wind to carry away the unspoken words. You didn't want to talk about Rafe's engagement anymore, or about Sofia, or what it meant to you. You had learned to swallow your emotions, to let them burn inside you until they became something more bearable, like ashes after a fire. So you didn't say anything. You just nodded almost imperceptibly and took a step back, as if you were walking away from a conversation that had already ended. 

Rafe watched you with fleeting curiosity, but he didn't insist. He, too, knew when it was best to leave things as they were. Without another word, he turned around and walked back along the same wooden path he had come by, his footsteps echoing in the increasingly dark afternoon. You stayed a few seconds longer, trying to let the cold in your chest dissipate and your breathing return to a normal rhythm. 

When you finally turned around, your thoughts were already far away from there, beyond the ocean, in the dunes of Morocco, in the legends surrounding the Blue Crown. That relic had been the center of stories and rumors among treasure-hunting circles, a lost jewel whose importance went beyond wealth: it was said to have the power to change the fate of whoever possessed it. And now, it was sought not only by you and Rafe, but also by the Pogues, and others. 

You had no time to be distracted, and you couldn't let your emotions prevent you from acting with the coolness that the situation required. You returned to your home where on the worn wooden table, the map of Morocco was spread out, with handwritten notes and markings indicating the places you had investigated before. You sat down, letting the weight of determination replace the pang of jealousy and disappointment you still felt. 

You looked through your things: an old compass that had belonged to your grandfather, oil lanterns, a sharp knife, and a copy of a manuscript with cryptic clues about the location of the Blue Crown, clothes, and a lot of money. 

As night fell over the Outer Banks and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you promised yourself that you would find the Crown, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way. You weren’t interested in having it, but in what it took to have it, the deals you could make, and how proud your father would be if you did. It would be your victory, your vindication with your father after he nearly “killed” you when he found out you weren’t with Rafe anymore and you ruined his perfect life by not marrying a Cameron. You pushed those memories from your mind, focusing your eyes on the map and letting the adrenaline and obsession with the search take over. 

Tomorrow, everything would change.

The Moroccan sun was merciless, a golden blaze that seemed hell-bent on burning your skin and sapping every ounce of energy you had. The air was dry, with a hint of sand that seeped into your mouth and stuck to your skin. You walked through a bustling market, where the aromas of spices, leather, and sweat mingled in a heady, chaotic mix. Vendors shouted in Arabic and French, selling everything from hand-woven rugs to intricately detailed gold jewelry. Despite the fascination you could feel for the place, the heat made every step a struggle. 

“Damn heat,” you mutter as you wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Your clothes, light but already soaked, clung to your skin uncomfortably. You were tired, overwhelmed, and everything seemed even more complicated in the middle of that maze of narrow streets. 

Behind you, you hear a low, familiar laugh. “Are you really complaining about the heat?” Rafe’s voice comes with a hint of sarcasm you know well. He’d joined the expedition at the last minute. He wore dark sunglasses and a smile that made him seem completely unfazed, even under the relentless desert sun. 

“It’s not that different from home,” he adds, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look that mixes defiance and complicity. His words hit you with an unexpected truth, and although you hate to admit it, you agree with a slight nod. 

“You’re right,” you acknowledge, trying not to show the irritation you felt. Outer Banks might be stifling, humid, and wild, but this dry, scorching heat had its own way of imposing itself. Still, the comparison was still valid. 

Rafe stops next to a stall where an old man sells copper and silver amulets. He takes one between his fingers, examining it with that calm attention he used to display before making a major move. His presence is as familiar as it is exasperating, a constant that forced you to stay alert.

“Don’t forget what we’re here for,” he murmurs without looking at you, as he returns the amulet to the old man with a polite smile. His words bring you back to the present, to the mission.

You take a deep breath, letting the warm air fill your lungs and force you to focus. “I never forget,” you reply, and although your words sound firm, you both knew that heat, distractions, and personal tensions were silent enemies.

Rafe smirks, a gesture that could be either respect or mockery. Then, without further ado, he walks into the crowd, motioning for you to follow him.

Hours later, night fell over Morocco with the speed of a closing curtain, leaving the air still warm and charged with the promise of new intrigue. The market streets, which during the day were a hive of life, were transformed into a labyrinth of shadows and flashing lights, where low-voiced conversations and distant laughter mingled with the hum of oil lamps. You found yourself in one of these streets, walking briskly alongside Rafe, whose eyes seemed to scan every corner, alert for any sign of movement.

You knew the Pogues were in town. They’d been following the treasure trail for almost as long as you had, and though your paths had crossed in the past, you’d never considered joining them. Until now.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked Rafe, feeling the weight of doubt like a stone in your stomach. It was an idea that had seemed absurd to you when it first came up, but the more you thought about it, the more logical it made. Two opposing forces joining forces for a common goal. But with Rafe, you could never be completely sure of anything.

Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder, his lips twisting into a smile that was more of a warning than a friendly gesture. “Relax. It suits them as much as it suits us.” You stopped at the edge of a crossroads, the yellowish light of a streetlamp illuminating half of his face and leaving the other half plunged into darkness. “Don’t worry so much, if there’s one thing I know about them it’s that they can’t resist an opportunity,” she added, lowering her voice and moving closer. 

The meeting was scheduled in an old warehouse near the port, a place where stacked wooden boxes and hanging ropes created a scene that seemed straight out of a pirate tale. The place smelled of salt and damp wood, and the echoes of the waves crashing against the docks filled the space with a constant murmur. When you arrived, the Pogues were already there, standing in a tense semicircle, exchanging glances and whispers. John B, with his disheveled hair and alert expression, was the first to spot you. Beside him, Sarah tensed her jaw at the sight of Rafe, and you couldn’t blame her. The wounds between them ran deep, scars that would take a while to heal, if they ever did. 

“What are you doing here?” JJ’s voice was the first to break the silence. His eyes, normally full of spark and humor, were now hard as steel. Kie stood beside him, arms crossed and an expression that clearly said he didn’t trust what was happening.

Rafe raised his hands, as if to show he had no ill intentions. “Relax. We’re not here to fight. We’re here to help.”

“Help?” John B repeated the word as if it were a joke, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Why the hell should we trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” you intervened, taking a step forward. All eyes fell on you, and you felt the weight of uncertainty in each gaze. “But if we want to find the Crown before others do, we have no choice. Rafe and I know things, we have clues that can lead us to it. And you also have information that we need.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Eyes met, searching for answers that neither was willing to give. Pope was the first to move, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as if he were assessing the situation. “What kind of information?” he finally asked, his tone calculating and full of caution.

Rafe smiled, and you knew he’d been waiting for that question. “We know the last clue leads to a site in the Atlas Mountains. But it’s not a place you can get to with maps and courage alone. You need someone who knows the terrain, and we just happen to have people who do.”

Kie let out a sigh, lowering her arms and casting a quick glance at her friends. “It’s crazy,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested the idea, as dangerous as it was, intrigued her.

John B gritted his teeth, his gaze shifting from you to Rafe, then to his friends. There was a decision to be made, and you both knew it. Finally, he nodded, though not willingly. “Okay, but if this is a trap…”

“It’s not,” you interrupted. And though your words were firm, you knew that everyone there had reasons to doubt. The alliance was not perfect, and past scars still hurt. But in the search, distrust would be a luxury they could not afford.

Rafe crossed his arms, pleased, and looked at John B with a flash of defiance. “Then we better get started. The mountains aren’t going to wait for us.”

The group exchanged glances, a tacit agreement that felt like a leap into the dark.

Dawn in Morocco came with unexpected warmth, as if the sun had risen early with the sole purpose of testing everyone’s patience. The souk, which had just awakened with the first light, was filled with life in a matter of minutes: merchants displayed their wares, children ran through the alleys, and the air was filled with the aroma of spices and freshly baked bread. The relative calm of the morning didn’t last long.

It had been barely two days since you formed that precarious alliance with the Pogues and, as you feared, things quickly went awry. You weren’t sure what exactly had caused the chaos – whether it was Rafe trying to “get information” the way he usually did, or whether it was an unfortunate run-in with another group of treasure hunters who had gotten wind of the treasure. The truth was that you now found yourself running at full speed between clay buildings and narrow alleys, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls as the screams and curses of your pursuers filled the air behind you. 

“Rafe! This is madness!” you shouted as you dodged a fruit stand that you nearly knocked over in your wake. Oranges rolled across the ground, and the merchant let out an enraged scream that was lost in the melee. Rafe, running beside you with a grin that bordered on reckless, barely turned to look at you. 

“Calm down, I’ve got it under control!” he replied in a tone that made you want to punch him in the midst of all the confusion. The shadow of a smile remained on his face, as if this was all just a game and not a race to keep his skin intact.

“You better fix it, Rafe!” you roared, feeling the burn in your legs and the metallic taste of effort in your mouth. “I wanted at least a couple of good days in Morocco!” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a moment of true tranquility, and in that instant, the desire for everything to be different mixed with the adrenaline that drove you to keep running. 

Rafe let out a laugh, one you didn’t know whether to admire or detest. “Good days? That’s not part of the deal, friend.” His words seemed laden with irony, but also with a truth that stuck in you like a thorn. 

You turned a corner and felt the sunlight hit you directly in the face, blinding you for a crucial second. You staggered and almost fell when you tripped on a small step, but Rafe grabbed your arm and pushed you forward without stopping. The footsteps behind you were getting closer, and you could hear shouts in Arabic that, although you didn’t fully understand, made it clear that the intentions were anything but friendly.

“To the right!” Rafe shouted, letting go of you and pointing down a side street that seemed narrower than the one before. Without thinking, you turned, your heart pounding in your chest like a crazed drum. The alley narrowed even further, and the terracotta-colored walls seemed to close in around you. You could feel the adrenaline bubbling through your veins, sweat soaking through your shirt, and the sound of the chase ringing in your ears as a constant reminder of how close they were.

Suddenly, a thud to your left caught your attention: John B and JJ had emerged from a hidden passage, expressions mixing surprise and relief at seeing you. “What the hell did they do now?!” JJ shouted, a spark of reproach in his eyes.

“This isn’t the time for details,” you replied between gasps, and without stopping, you walked past them, followed by Rafe, who still had that impassive smile.

“We have to split up,” John B said, taking the lead and pointing with a sharp gesture. “We’ll meet at the meeting point! Go that way!” And before you could answer, he and JJ disappeared into another narrow passage, like moving shadows.

You and Rafe kept running, the chase now divided and the sound of footsteps diminishing. The alley opened up into a small square, where the midday shadows were deeper. There, you leaned against a wall, trying to catch your breath and process what had just happened.

Rafe glanced at you, his breathing ragged but a spark of excitement in his eyes. “You see,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a quick gesture, “this is what makes everything more interesting.”

You looked at him, feeling a mixture of exasperation and a strange camaraderie wash over you. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe you were crazy for keeping up with him.

After the chase, everything had calmed down, they continued doing their thing during the day and at night when they went to rest at a place where they were staying while you slept you were startled by a thud in the next room. You barely had time to stand up when the door was flung open and a tall man, with scars on his face and eyes as dark as night, pointed a gun at you. “Not a single move, girl,” he hissed in broken English, the threat in his voice as clear as the gun in his hand.

Rafe, who was in the other room, burst in without a second thought. The fight was quick, a clash of bodies and blows that echoed in the small room like war drums. With your heart racing, you searched for something, anything to defend yourself, and your fingers found an old metal lamp. You didn’t think about it. With all the strength you could muster, you threw it at the intruder’s head, the metallic sound echoing as it hit him and sent him reeling.

“Get out!” Rafe shouted, his voice a roar that snapped you out of your trance. You moved toward the door as he finished subduing the intruder. Outside, the streets were deserted, a blanket of silence that was almost as dangerous as the bustle of the crowd. You knew they couldn’t stay there. They had to move.

The next day, things only got worse. Despite having agreed on a meeting point with the Pogues, the pressure of being under constant surveillance and dodging suspicious glances became unbearable. Pope had managed to decipher an ancient map that seemed to lead to a cave in the Atlas Mountains, but they hadn’t counted on the other hunters who caught wind of the advance.

The chase began in the market, with the clatter of falling pots and screams from confused vendors who barely understood what was happening. You leapt up a stone staircase that led up to the rooftops, Rafe hot on your heels and JJ and Kie a few feet behind, bringing up the rear. From above, the flat roofs of the souk stretched out like a makeshift battlefield, dotted with hanging clothes and rusty antennas. The air was thick with heat and dust, making every breath a challenge. 

Gunshots rang out in the distance, the echo spreading through the streets like a wave. You threw yourself to the ground just in time to avoid a second shot, feeling adrenaline turn your fear into a searing drive. Rafe held out a hand and helped you up, the urgency in his eyes clearer than ever. “We have to get down from here now!” he shouted over the din, pointing to an old staircase that led to a narrow alley. 

They managed to climb down and into the tangle of streets, but the sense of impending danger never left. The group briefly took refuge in a cellar, where John B pulled out the map and spread it out on a splintered wooden table. “The cave is close, but we need to make a detour. We’re being followed closely,” he said, his gaze fixed on the markings that indicated a winding path into the mountains.

The tension in the air was palpable. No one fully trusted Rafe, and Kie kept giving you worried glances, as if trying to gauge how much more you could take. You were tired, exhausted, but at the moment the idea of ​​stopping seemed as far away as peace itself. 

That night, when the group decided to split up, you found yourself alone with Rafe in a dark passage, the echo of screams and gunshots still haunting you. The shadows on the stone walls seemed to lengthen and twist as if they were alive, too, watching you. You walked in silence, your breathing still ragged and your body on high alert. Rafe, ever alert, stopped suddenly and put a hand on your arm. The touch was cold, but it also had a hint of urgency that made you still. 

“Listen,” he whispered. You barely noticed the sound of footsteps coming toward you, slow and calculated. Before you could process it, someone grabbed you from behind and dragged you into the darkness of an alley. You kicked and punched, fighting with all your might as Rafe tried to reach you. 

You knew you had been missing for no more than a couple of hours, you had learned to count time without a watch and without getting lost and you knew that you had been exactly two hours with your head covered, except for your mouth. 

In an unexpected twist, it was John B who appeared out of nowhere, pulling your captor and slamming him against the wall with a force that seemed impossible for his build. Once free, you breathed heavily, feeling the world around you blur. You were tired, but John B’s gaze, full of concern and determination, reminded you that you were not alone. 

“We have to move. Now,” he said and you quickly followed. 

The streets began to calm down as John B led you through a maze of passages further and further away from the bustle of the souk.

Finally, John B stopped in front of an old wooden door, dark with age and dust. He knocked three times in a rhythmic manner, and the door creaked open. You entered behind him, feeling tiredness creeping through your body like an unbearable weight. The small room you entered was lit by an oil lamp in one corner, casting a dim light that made the shadows lengthen and distort.

There, sitting in a chair with an expression somewhere between worry and relief, was Rafe. When he saw you, his eyes lit up with a flash of excitement that he quickly tried to hide under a facade of serenity. You had no time for words; you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body and the accelerated beat of his heart under your arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

Rafe hugged you back, his grip firm, almost desperate. For an instant, he wasn’t the troubled, arrogant man you’d shared so many moments of uncertainty with, but someone who shared the weight of the same struggle, the same fear, and the same need to find respite amidst the chaos.

“I thought I’d have to kill someone to find you,” he murmured, his voice husky near your ear, heavy with a feeling he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit. You felt his hands tighten around you, as if he feared that if he loosened his grip, you might disappear into the dimness of the room.

“I almost did,” you admitted, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

John B coughed softly, breaking the tension in the air and reminding you that you weren’t alone. You looked over at him, and behind him, JJ and Kie had gathered, each with expressions ranging from relief to distrust. Kie smiled briefly, but JJ kept his stance alert, always the first to suspect Rafe. 

“We need to decide our next move,” John B said, crossing his arms and glancing around at everyone in the room. “Those following us aren’t going to stop, and the cave in the mountains isn’t going to sit around waiting for us.”

Rafe let out a low, almost inaudible laugh and looked away, as if he was considering John B’s words. You felt the knot in your chest slowly unravel, replaced by the determination they all shared: to find what they were looking for. 

After the conversation, the small room fell into a heavy silence, interrupted only by tired sighs and the occasional creaking of chairs. The tired looks, the few words. The adrenaline of the day was finally beginning to fade, and exhaustion took its place with relentless force. John B and the others found corners in the room to rest, spreading threadbare blankets on the floor and chairs.

Rafe looked at you and nodded silently, both of you knowing you wouldn't stay there. Without exchanging another word, you walked out the back door, into the shadows of the streets of Marrakech. You walked in silence, unhurried but not stopping, following the paths you already knew by heart. The house you shared was a few streets away, a replica of the many modest buildings in the neighborhood, but set back enough to offer you a semblance of privacy and safety.

Upon arriving, Rafe opened the door and let you in first. The interior was dark and cool, a welcome welcome after the scorching heat of the day and the tension that seemed to have been tied to your back like a weight. You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the ephemeral peace of the place, before letting out a deep sigh and moving towards the small room in the back, where a low, simple bed awaited you. 

Rafe stood in the doorway, watching you with a mix of tiredness and something else you couldn’t quite make out. “Do you want me to make you something to drink?” he asked, his voice soft and husky. 

You shook your head as you kicked off your shoes and dropped onto the bed. “No, I just… need to sleep. It’s been too much for today.” You laid down on your side, hugging one of the pillows and feeling your eyelids begin to droop. You didn’t expect Rafe to do the same, but suddenly you heard him move. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and the lamplight flickered for a moment before he blew out the last spark and everything went dark. 

You flinched slightly as you felt the weight of the bed dip beside you. You turned your head, and though you could barely see his features in the darkness, you could feel his proximity, the heat radiating from his body. “I’m not staying in that house with them,” he murmured, like an explanation, though you didn’t need one. You didn’t respond, just closed your eyes, too exhausted to think about what it meant.

The silence stretched between you, only broken by the slow, deep breaths that began to come together. Without realizing it, as tiredness dragged you to sleep, you turned a little, looking for a more comfortable position. Your hands brushed Rafe's arm, and he moved barely, as if responding to your touch was a reflex. Before you could think about what was happening, you felt his arm slide around your waist, pulling you towards him. It was a protective, warm gesture, and although at another time you would have said something, in that instant you only sighed, feeling your body relax completely. 

With his breath close to your ear and the safety of his arms around you, the tension that had accompanied you for days finally dissolved. 

The next morning the sun began to filter through the cracks in the window, filling the room with a soft light that contrasted with the darkness you had fallen into the night before. You woke up slowly, eyelids heavy, body still marked by the tiredness of the day before. Without moving, you felt the warmth of Rafe’s body beside you, his arm still around your waist, and for a moment you couldn’t help but smile quietly.

You tried to turn around to get out of his embrace without making a sound, hoping you wouldn’t wake him, but when you tried to move, something pulled at you. Rafe, still asleep, pulled you closer to him, a gesture so automatic that it made you sigh silently. Your body tensed at first, but then you realized it couldn’t be that bad, at least for a moment longer.

“Don’t go,” he murmured quietly, his tone rough with sleep. The softness of his words made your chest tighten unintentionally.

You stayed still for a second, staring at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of his embrace envelop you, as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving only that small corner of peace between the two of you. But reality, as always, quickly took over. You didn’t want to be that person, you didn’t want to confuse yourself or complicate things further. It was a hug, nothing more.

“Rafe...” you began quietly, almost afraid to interrupt the peace that had formed between you. “I’m not Sofia.”

The sound of his breathing changed, and then, with a calmness that surprised you, he replied, “I know,” as he held you even tighter against his chest. His words were soft, as if there was nothing to clarify, nothing to change. “I just… want to keep sleeping.”

Despite his relaxed tone, you couldn’t stay there all day. You already knew that time was pressing, and things were still moving outside of that little bubble of calm you’d shared with him. “There are things to do, Rafe,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “And we need to eat.”

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips at that moment, but eventually he relented. His body tensed a little as, with a grimace, he began to pull away from you, his arm finally releasing you, though his gaze was still a little clouded by sleep.

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting up with a hand on his head, as if trying to clear his head a little before getting up. “But only because you have to eat.”

The smile that escaped you upon hearing his tired, yet resigned tone was almost inevitable. You got up first, stretching and looking for clean clothes. As you watched him prepare his way to get up.

After a simple but necessary breakfast, with the morning warmth streaming in through the windows, the pace of the day continued. The conversations about the map and the cave in the mountains were quickly forgotten as each of you went about your own business. The chaos and paranoia of the day before had subsided, but danger was still present in every corner of Morocco, lurking in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Rafe, as always lately, had decided to act without thinking too much about it. There was something in his nature that pushed him to throw himself into risky situations without measuring the consequences. And, as always, it ended in trouble.

That trouble came in the form of an old acquaintance who appeared in the square, with clear intentions of collecting old debts. Rafe tried to negotiate, to talk to him in terms he clearly didn’t understand, while you watched from afar, feeling a growing unease in your stomach. There was something about the man’s posture, his cold gaze, that told you that they weren’t going to get out of this well.

The exchange of words escalated quickly, the tone of the conversation going from tense to aggressive in seconds. You knew it wasn’t going to end well, but what you didn’t expect was what happened next.

The man moved quickly, his hand searching for something in his jacket. You didn’t need to be told, it all happened in the blink of an eye. Rafe had backed away, but the man already had a gun in his hands, and his intention was clear. Rafe’s gaze hardened, and in that moment you understood that he couldn’t escape.

The man raised the gun towards him, and the world seemed to slow down for an instant. You knew there was no time to think about it. Fear transformed into action without your brain being able to fully process it. Without thinking, you pulled out the gun you had taken from the cellar the night before. In one swift movement, you aimed and fired. 

The sound of the gunshot rang through the air, the echo repeating in your ears as the man fell to the ground, with a grunt of pain, the gun slipping from his hand. Quickly, you turned to Rafe, who was only a few feet away from you, watching what had happened with a mix of surprise and gratitude, but also with the awareness of what had just happened. 

“Are you...?” you began, but the words got caught in your throat. Adrenaline was still flowing through your veins, making your hands shake slightly, but there was no time to reflect. 

Rafe, after a moment of silence, finally spoke. “Well done,” he said in a tone you couldn’t quite read. But there was something in his gaze, a deep gratitude, and also a concern that he didn’t want to admit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied, quickly putting the gun away, though your heart was still racing. “Be careful, I need you to be the Rafe who makes deals with the worst people possible and comes out on top.”

Rafe didn’t say anything. He looked at the fallen man, then turned to you, and without another word, he nodded. “Let’s move on.”

The two of you walked quickly, away from the scene, the shadows of the streets covering you. Rafe walked a few steps ahead of you.

Your breathing was still irregular, the adrenaline already starting to wear off. The question that had formed in your head escaped your mouth, more out of impulse than out of need to know the answer.

“Isn’t there a minute where we have peace? Where I don’t have to get your ass out of some trouble?” you blurted out, the irony in your voice evident. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or scream, but something about the situation made you blurt out that question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rafe, without turning around, let out a dry laugh, the one you already knew was the only way he had to deal with the situation, a defense against the chaos that surrounded him. “Like with Sheriff Peterkin,” he said, and although his words seemed light, there was something in his tone that he couldn’t hide: the heaviness of that memory.

The mention of the policewoman made you pause for a second. You knew exactly what he meant. That time, long before they got to this point, you remembered the local police who had almost caught Rafe and his family, so he took it upon himself only for reasons that were never fully understood, your father intervened, paying whatever it took to cover it all up. 

You knew that, in some way, your father’s hand was always present, ensuring that Rafe’s problems didn’t affect him, although it had left you with a bitter feeling in your stomach. Your father never talked about these situations, but it was clear that he had ways of cleaning up messes that others couldn’t. And in some way, he included you in his world, which you were used to and liked. 

“I know,” you answered with a wry smile. You couldn’t help but think of everything you had done to protect Rafe, everything you had put aside for him, for his sake. And what did you get in return? More trouble, more chaos. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that something about that connection dragged you down, something you couldn’t control.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment, his eyes softened, as if you were reading his thoughts. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though it wasn’t the kind of thanks that made you feel completely at ease.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, feeling the moment become more tense than it already was. “I don’t need you to thank me, Rafe. This is what always happens. But I don’t want to be your fixer all the time.”

Silence fell between you again as you walked through the streets, the sun already warming the air uncomfortably. Your dress, though light at first, now felt sticky and dirty. Sweat ran down your back and the line of your neck, and the dust of the streets stuck to your skin only made things worse. You rubbed your forehead, desperate, and muttered more to yourself than to Rafe.

“This is unbearable. I’m sweaty, dirty, and… I need a bath urgently. This is torture.”

Rafe walked a few steps ahead, but his eyes shifted to you for a moment, as if he was trying to process what you had just said. He didn’t seem worried, but he did seem a little amused to see you in this state.

“I know, but it’s not the most important thing right now,” he said, in his usual, somewhat carefree tone. “We have to stay focused.”

You frowned as you brushed off your dress. “Yeah, sure, very focused… but I could be a lot more productive if I wasn’t so uncomfortable.” You looked around, realizing how ridiculous it sounded: here you were, running away from one problem after another, and all you could think about was a bathroom.

Rafe, noticing your tone, let out a low, amused laugh, as if the idea of ​​worrying about something so mundane in the midst of all the chaos was completely absurd. “It’s not my fault you’re not going to take a bath with me,” he said, as if to joke. 

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised, and prepared to respond, but before you could say anything, he gave you a small tap on the arm, almost playfully, while smirking. The way he did it seemed so natural, as if everything else around them disappeared for a second. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he added between laughs. “You can wait a little longer before you get in the water.” 

He looked at you with that lopsided smile that, despite everything, couldn’t take away the discomfort of being drenched in sweat and dirt. But you couldn’t help but laugh, despite how upset you were. 

“Easy for you to say, right?” You said, trying to make a face, but you couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “When you’re not the one stuck in a sticky dress with your hair stuck to your face.”

Rafe, hearing your tone, simply shrugged, still smiling. “I promise that once we get somewhere safe, you can shower all you want. In the meantime, just hold on a little longer. It’s not all that bad, right?”

You stayed silent for a moment, looking at his relaxed face as you walked. You knew he was partly right. In the end, the sweat and heat were nothing compared to what you had already faced. But, despite everything, you couldn’t help but think about how much good a nice bath would do you.

“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” you said in a more relaxed tone, feeling your body ease up a bit as the tension was released with those words. “Because really, Rafe, I need something more than water to cool off.”

Rafe, looking at you with that look of his, just nodded, and with a mischievous smile on his face, he replied, “I promise, just hold on a little longer.”

You pushed yourself gently against his arm, and laughed.

Although the hours had felt endless, they ended up being productive for you and Rafe. The search for clues had paid off, although not in the way you had expected. They had managed to find some things and talk to some people who would help them, and they had also made some important progress in getting an address that seemed more promising than the previous ones. Despite the discomfort of the heat, the chases they had barely dodged, and the tensions between them, you felt that the hours had been worth it. 

The streets, which had previously seemed overwhelming and chaotic, now felt more familiar. They had managed to blend in a bit with the locals, and although curious eyes continued to follow them, they managed to move more confidently, at least until it got late. Finally, after a day of intense work and a couple of altercations, night fell over Morocco, and the cool breeze that was beginning to blow made you breathe a sigh of relief. 

As the shadows lengthened, the city seemed to calm down a bit, the streets less hectic, the heat of the day slowly easing. You were tired, the sweat stuck to your skin was no longer just uncomfortable, but had left you feeling heavy. All you wanted at that moment was a bath, but you knew things couldn't be that simple.

Rafe had disappeared for a moment, perhaps to talk to someone or continue digging into some clue that had surfaced, but you couldn't wait any longer. You quickly walked to the house you had rented, the temporary shelter where you could only think about taking off everything you had endured that day.

Entering the small dwelling, you closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. You no longer had to be on alert all the time. There was no immediate danger in sight, and at last, you had some time to yourself.

You quickly headed to the bathroom, where a large, old tub was waiting for you, filled with water that still felt somewhat warm, as if someone had prepared everything in advance. You didn't hesitate for a second and, without thinking twice, you began to undress, removing clothes soaked in sweat and dust from the day. Each piece of clothing you dropped on the floor seemed to take a little more of the weight off your shoulders.

You sank into the tub with a sigh of relief, letting the warm water envelop your tired body. You lay back with your arms outstretched on the edge, closing your eyes and letting the warmth surround you, covering you completely. Each bubble that formed on the surface seemed to soothe you more, as if you were letting go of all the stress and tension you had built up.

The sound of the water gently moving around you was the only thing you could hear, and for a moment, you felt like everything else was left behind. You only thought about yourself, and the movement of the water.

The warmth of the water was beginning to relax you completely, and every part of your body that had been tense during the day was slowly letting go. You had your eyes closed, enjoying the moment, when you finally managed to disconnect from everything else, even Rafe's presence. At last, you felt like the world could wait a little.

The soak in the tub was beyond relaxing. Without thinking, you began to completely relax, the hot, bubbling water enveloping your body as tiredness slipped away from you.

You allowed yourself to stay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace that so rarely came to you.

When you finally got out of the tub, you felt like new. The water had done wonders on your tired body.

You decided to replace the water in the tub before Rafe arrived. The water you had used was warm, but it wasn't as hot anymore, so you decided to fill it up again for him. You did this more out of instinct than anything else, you wanted to offer him some peace of mind after everything you had been through that day. The sound of the water flowing in the tub was the only thing you could hear as you prepared to go get some clean clothes.

You didn't notice it at first, but when you returned to the living room, you heard the door open. Rafe walked in with his tired, somewhat heavy gait, but it wasn’t until you turned to look at him again that you noticed something odd about his posture. Something about the way he walked, slightly hunched over, made you frown.

Rafe was hurt.

The sweat on his face and the blood stains on his clothes didn’t go unnoticed. There was some wound, perhaps superficial, but enough to make you worry. You hurried to approach him, but he raised his hand, stopping you before you could say anything.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tense but firm, as if he didn’t want you to treat him like he was a child. “Just a couple of scratches. A bath will do me good, and that’s it.” His tone was so direct that it left no room for further discussion, as if the idea of ​​being helped was something he preferred to avoid.

You stared at him for a moment, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to help, to do something, but you knew Rafe wasn’t going to let you do it. You knew him too well to know that he wouldn’t accept help easily, especially when it came to something as “minor” as a wound.

“I’ve already filled the tub for you,” you finally said, trying to hide how much it worried you to see him in that state. Your voice sounded calmer than you felt, but there was still a note of concern that you couldn’t hide. “It’s ready. Just… be careful, okay?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, that smile of his that used to be so trusting, but now seemed somewhat forced. “Thank you,” he said quietly, giving you a slight nod in thanks. 

You stood there for a few moments, watching him head towards the tub, where he paused for a moment before beginning to strip off his blood and dirt stained clothes. 

The tension in the air between the two of you was palpable, but in the end, you knew you couldn’t just leave him like that. If he wasn’t going to accept it, you would take the lead. No matter what was between you, you couldn’t leave him hurt and alone. 

You approached the tub with a clear decision in your mind. Without thinking too much, you grabbed a clean rag and dipped it into the hot water. The sound of the water sliding down his skin, the warmth emitted by the steam, turned it all into a kind of calm that at first seemed disconcerting. Rafe stayed silent, watching you as you moved the cloth gently across his torso, careful not to touch his wounds, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated on his body.

You didn’t think about his nakedness. You knew that, at this point, it was just a practical matter.

Rafe, despite the awkwardness of the situation, kept looking at you, and with a crooked smile, decided to break the silence. “Are you really doing this?” he said in a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow, as if he were in the middle of an awkward joke. “Aren’t you afraid of getting wet?”

You laughed despite yourself, almost unable to help it. The laughter came out of you spontaneously, lightening the heavy atmosphere that had formed a little. “If I get wet, I get wet. It’s not like I haven’t gotten wet before.” You replied, cleaning the part of his shoulder more carefully, always aware of the wounds.

Rafe’s sarcastic tone never faded, though at the moment it seemed more like a way to cope than anything else. He stared at you, but this time, something in his gaze changed. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said casually, as if it were just a comment. But there was something in his eyes that left you speechless. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately felt uncomfortable. For a second, you froze. “Please don’t say that,” you murmured, trying to look away to avoid him seeing it in your eyes. 

The atmosphere between the two of you grew tense, as if the words were floating in the air, weighing more than anything you could say. There were too many things left unsaid between you, too many intertwined feelings, and the complications of everything going on in your lives. But, in that instant, the comment seemed to change something.

Rafe didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gently took your hand, guiding it through the water as you ran it over his chest. The closeness of his body, the way he touched you, made your breathing quicken. Before you could react, he pulled you towards him, into the tub, unexpectedly. The warmth of the water surrounding both of you only intensified the feeling of closeness, of warmth. 

You stood there, not knowing what to do. Your whole body was telling you to get away, that it wasn't the time, that this shouldn't happen. But something in his gaze, something in the way he held you, made your own thoughts fade away. The doubts and voices in your head seemed to fade away when his lips met yours, in an intense but silent way, as if there was no turning back. 

Despite what your mind was telling you, what was warning you that this could be a mistake, you couldn't help it. The touch of his body, the unexpected connection, made you lose control for a moment. The pressure in your chest disappeared, and for an instant, there was only the sensation of his lips, of his closeness, of the passion you hadn't planned.

You knew that, after all this, nothing would ever be the same again. But in that moment, you surrendered to the sensation, to the connection you both shared, even though everything around you told you not to let yourself go.

You both stayed there for a long time, in silence, only the sound of the water and the ragged breaths filling the air around you. There was no rush, no urgency to move away. The warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies enveloped you, and for a moment, you let yourself go, you let the chaos of the world be replaced by the calm that only he could offer you in that instant. The tension between you seemed to slowly fade away, as if time had stopped and everything else no longer mattered.

When you finally pulled away from him, a little dazed, it was Rafe who broke the silence with a soft, but determined voice. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand gently. 

You didn’t have time to say anything else before he led you out of the tub and into the bedroom, but you didn’t care. There was something comforting about the idea of ​​spending the night with him, of sharing a space, even if it was just for a few hours. You felt calmer than you had in days, something you didn’t even know you needed until that moment.

[rosenclaws]

Hi!! I’d love to see you do the prompt “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.” with Logan! Was thinking of the reader who’s so self loathing of her own powers opening up for the first time towards Logan 🥺

warnings: angst/fluff, Logan has interesting teaching methods lol

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.2k

a/n: So this also...turned into more than a drabble oops. I got carried away I can't help it asdflk;h. Anyways I totally got inspired by ATLA for some of the logan pep talk if u can tell lol.

The mansion was so lonely. It shouldn't be but it is. Especially for you. Brought here as a child you grew up here. You were excited, hopeful that maybe you could start a new life here. But then your powers went haywire.

Just when you thought things could be different your emotions got the better of you. Fire raged through the mansion and you couldn't stop it. The more you panicked the worst it got.

When the flames were put out all you could see was the destruction that ravaged the once spotless mansion. It was an accident. Charles knew it and so did everyone else but that didn't stop the whispers, the fear. You never wanted this.

You did all you could to suppress your powers for years. Leaving the school and never looking back. Years passed and you managed to live a quite life. You went to work and went home. It was a lonely life but you couldn't hurt anyone so it you learned to live it.

Then one day you got a letter from Charles. It was a matter of such importance that you had no choice but to return. It was weird being back.

It was in the dead of the night that you found yourself alone. Just as you remembered. This time wandering through the halls of the mansion. Your fingers traced the familiar paintings and furniture. A frown coming over your face as you trace the faint scorch marks that still remain.

"So those were you." A deep voice startles you.

You feel a light flame escape your fingertips as you shove you cross your arms and hide your hands away. There stands Logan with a cigar in his mouth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you lower your arms.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you." He holds out his cigar and you roll your eyes. He's been trying to get you to use your powers, to light his damn cigars because he's too lazy to reach into his own pocket.

"Come on, just a little flame." He says with a smirk.

"Can I help you Logan?" Though you're glaring he can see that small smile.

You and Logan were unlikely friends as you put it. The two of you understood each other. Understood the want to hide away. Don't get close and you won't get hurt. Even with that mantra somehow you were each others exception.

Maybe it was stupid but having Logan was nice. He was nice in his own weird way. Looked out for you, joked with you on the rare occasion. Plus he was easy on the eyes, but you don't let yourself go there. Love...it's just not meant for you. You don't do love and neither does Logan. Even if you want it, even if sometimes he finds his way into your dreams.

"Nope." He gestures for you to follow him so you do. Walking quietly through the halls until he leads you outside. A chill washes over you step outside.

"Just a little light for me sweetheart?" Okay the first time was charming but now it's getting annoying.

"Will you quit it." You snap. Logan raises an eyebrow and you sigh. Sitting down on a bench and looking down at your hands.

"You know I don't use my powers anymore."

"I know."

"So why do you keep asking?" He shrugs and sits down next to you.

"Because, I think you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" You scoff. You clench your fists as you glare at Logan.

"So what you burned some wood big deal. That really all it takes for you to run?"

You're hurt and confused where the hell this is coming from. You thought he'd understand you but clearly you were wrong.

"You know what Logan fuck you." You hiss as you stand up.

Logan grabs your wrist before you can walk away and in a fit of anger you push him away. Flames coming out of your hand and hitting him square in the chest. You gasp as his flannel catches fire. Without thinking you press your hand and kill the flame.

"Logan I-"

"Stop." He grabs your wrist and points to an empty fire pit.

"Light it."

"Logan I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart," He tilts your head towards him. Looking at you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Trust yourself." You take a deep breath and send a fireball into the pit, lighting it up.

Your hand tingles as you use your powers for the first time in a long time. You wait for the other shoe to drop. For the fire to rage past what it's meant to be but it never does. Slowly you hold your hand out focus, the fire slowly gets smaller until it's snuffed out. You stare at your hand in awe. Control. You had control.

"Fire is destruction." Logan interlaces your fingers with his. He's got this smile that you've never really seen before.

"But it's also life, it's beautiful. You're beautiful." You bite your lip as he squeezes your hand. There's a fear that you'll burn him without thinking but he heals. You can't hurt him.

"Why are you helping me?" Why does he care this much? He didn't have to do this, you're not a student and yet here he is. Pushing you past your worries.

"I..." Logan tries to find the words. You're right he doesn't do this but he did for you because, well because..."I love you sweetheart."

Your eyes cloud with tears as you take in his words. He doesn't mean it can he? I mean, it's does he understand what that means. What it means to love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it. Please." You don't think you could handle it. He's already got your heart and it won't take much to crush it.

"Are you doubting me? I'm over a hundred years old I know what love feels like." Logan brushes your lips with his thumb, he's not great with words but he knows what he feels. No one can tell him any different.

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. He smells like cigar smoke and he tastes like honey. The kiss a little rough, you can tell he's trying to hold back. To be gentle which he's not always great at. You pout when he breaks the kiss, already wanting more.

"Later." He promises after noticing the look on your face.

You walk back through the mansion hand in hand. It's better at this hour, no prying eyes and whispers. For now it's just you and him. Though something does cross your mind as you reach your room.

"Did you...Were you trying to make me mad on purpose?" He smirks and pulls out another cigar from somewhere.

"It worked didn't it?" Unbelievable.

"You're an idiot Logan, what if I couldn't control it? What if I burned down the mansion, again?!" Logan rolls his eyes and kisses you again. Pushing you against the door. Your thoughts turn to mush as he kisses your neck.

"You aren't the monster you think you are." He whispers and you freeze. His words hitting you like a brick. Logan knows what it's like to be a monster, a weapon. He's the monster if anything. But you? You could never be. Not in his eyes.

Before he leaves he hands you his cigar. You shake your head and laugh. Holding out your hand you produce a small flame and he lights his cigar.

"Was all this just so I could give you a light?" You ask teasingly. Logan chuckles and presses another kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely." As much as you want to invite him in your room, you decide to wait. Rushing anything with Logan is the last thing you want. You want the time to be together. A good fire needs to grow before it becomes a roar.

"Goodnight Logan."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Your fingers slowly unlace as he walks away. You don't want him to go, fearing that this is just a one off night. There's no way you can have control so easily but then he looks back at you. He's got this look on his face that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright and for once you believe it.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 3: You Trust Me?✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you the next chapter! This has been one of my favorite series to write, and I have so much more in store for these two! Joel is so so soft for reader 🥹 Happy reading! I love nothing more than to read your comments on what you thought, so please consider leaving me comments and reblogs 💕

Chapter Summary: You’ve got so many reasons not to trust another man again in your life, but Joel seems to give you ten for why you should trust him. One of them being calming a panic attack in the middle of a parking lot.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.7k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, mentions of an acoustic guitar, panic attacks at the store

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The long days seem to dwindle by with your heart still lodged deep in your throat. It doesn’t seem to matter that the calming rain patters on your foggy window, doesn’t matter that fall used to be your favorite season. You feel hollow, torn apart piece by piece with every second that brushes past your icy skin. 

   You feel broken. You are broken. And you’re not sure anything will ever fix that. 

   Every day you find something new that’s too hard to manage to get your body to do. Brushing your teeth, getting yourself dressed, making yourself eat when all you can stomach is the empty feeling inside you. You’re just so tired of fighting, so very exhausted of trying to just get by. But your body screams at you to fight. 

   Fight for yourself. Win. Get out of bed, eat, make an effort to survive. So, you do. You try because that’s all you hear ringing in the back of your mind. You have to keep going. Don’t let Angela or any of the ones that dragged you down keep you from thriving. 

   Live. 

   Today is like all the other days you fight to not let your depression win. Except today marks two weeks that you’ve been here. Two weeks that you’ve survived. And as much as you feel like giving up every second of every day, you always seem to find one tiny reason to get out of bed. Joel seems to be that reason. 

   Joel… and his warm cups of coffee. The kind that he douses in creamer and sugar and caramel just for you. Because that’s how you like it. And it never fails. Every single morning your cup is there just waiting for you, including Joel’s warm smile and soft brown eyes…

   That’s your reason for getting out of bed. Joel. 

   You discovered that Joel reported you as found to the police department a few days ago. You should feel relieved that he did that, but it didn’t matter. There was no one looking for you, so it didn’t make a damn bit of a difference. No one was coming to get you… Nobody even tried reaching out which makes you feel that much worse.

   You battle with yourself, wrestling your way to slide on a pair of black leggings, along with a long cashmere sweater that falls clear down your thighs. You fight to comb the knots from your hair, clenching your teeth with every painful drag of the brush. 

   Fight. Win. Don’t let them control you.

   Flexing your trembling hands, you squeeze a generous amount of spearmint toothpaste onto your purple toothbrush and jam it into your mouth, scraping it back and forth until you don’t taste the bitter aftertaste of almost two years in captivity. 

   Your fingers tremble beneath you with every slide of the toothbrush, every clinking noise against your teeth making you gag at the memories of you being left alone with disgusting men in a tiny bathroom against your will. It’s too much, this is too much. So you rinse your mouth and scamper out of the bathroom, closing the door until you can’t feel the goosebumps rising on your skin anymore. 

   You’re safe. They’re not here. You’re free. But you don’t feel free because those painful memories are alive in your mind, painting vivid pictures that make you instantly want to vomit and recoil into bed. But you don’t let the monsters take you back down into the darkness. You flee to sunlight and hope. You make your way to something that makes you feel lighter, where you can breathe easier, to something that gives you hope. 

   And that something is Joel.

   You smell the fresh coffee brew in the air, inhaling the rich scent as if you can already taste it. When you turn the corner you see Joel’s broad back to you, busy with the coffee machine and the daily newspaper, his large hand brushing past the blur of small-print words. 

   Instead of stopping to say good morning to him, you decide to venture down the hall. You haven’t been brave enough to really take in the house and explore, but now? Maybe you could try. 

   The sunlight shines through the open glass windows, making the photographs and hanging art glitter like specks of gold surrounding the black frames. Your eyes skim the family photographs, taking in Joel’s big smile in each of them. One is of him and Tommy, arms clasped around each other’s backs with a little girl standing in front of them, who you suppose is Sarah. Her dark curls spiral to her shoulders while she wraps an arm around her dad. 

   They look so happy, like a normal family who has never been broken. You wish yours looked like that. But again, it never was. You were always surrounded by screaming parents, right on the brink of a divorce while you’d stay tucked in your room with your hands covering your ears, praying for the noise to just stop. 

   But it stopped alright. It stopped the moment they crashed their car on top of a mountain and left you to fend for yourself at your uncle’s house. An uncle that never loved you. An uncle that abandoned Washington the moment you moved out at just eighteen-years-old. And then he did too…

   You keep moving, holding your composure and tears in. Even though you feel like collapsing right in this spot, right under Joel’s family picture. A family that was still together to this day while yours was nonexistent. 

   You wish you still had a family, but you never really did in the first place. Did you? No. Mom was always too busy with looking perfect, constantly obsessing with lessening her wrinkles and getting plastic surgery. And dad? Well, he was always too busy working at the law firm and hooking up with his assistant behind mom’s back. You were always left to fend for yourself, so now isn’t any different than it’s ever been. 

   You’re alone. You’ve always been alone, always just survived. Ever since you were little, that’s all you’ve known — how to be independent and just make it. So what’s different now? Now you just have to swim through the trauma and hope you don’t drown in the process. Because this right now is too much to handle, even for you. 

   It’s too fucking much.

   Choking down the held back tears, you make your way down the long hallway, your body moving on autopilot just to escape the visions that blur into muted noise. The pristine white walls clash against the polished floors, painting you a picture of hope. Something you’ve never really had before. 

   Keep fighting. Live. Make a change. Break the cycle. 

   Holding on to new hope, you keep going until you turn the corner and find a large, open room that makes you audibly gasp. All memories of broken families and internal fears are suddenly forgotten, pushed aside to take in this glorious sight. 

   Holy shit. 

   Towering mahogany bookshelves sit stacked against the white walls, the cascading windows letting in enough sunlight to reflect off the broken-in spines of each book. Two plush ivory oversized chairs sit in the corner of the room, one opposite the other. An electric fireplace sits idle against one of the bookshelves, draped in vines from the tropical plant that splays atop the bookshelf nearest the fireplace. 

   This room is… magical. Exactly what you needed. An escape from reality. An escape from your mind. 

   You trace lines against the smooth covers of the various books, feeling the cracked spines and intricate cursive letters on some of the older books. There’s genres of everything you could ever imagine. Starting from ancient history and going all the way to popular fictional books that you’d see on New York’s best seller’s lists. This room has everything. 

   You could get lost in here.

   Forgetting where you are, your hand snaps back when you hear a deep chuckle behind you. “Thought I heard you come down this mornin’. See you found one of my favorite rooms.”

   When you turn around, you see him smiling over at you, the glow of the sun making his brown eyes sparkle an almond brown honey color. If you’re being honest with yourself, it makes you feel a little lighter because his eyes are so warm. 

   He’s warm. 

   “These are all yours?” you ask with a gasp as your finger continues to trail against the golden spine of an old history book. 

   “All mine. Well, a lot of ‘em I got for Sarah. You see, she’s a bit of a bookworm, and she might’ve got me into the classics. So, now I’m jus’ as bad as her,” he laughs as he leans against the bright wall, his smile light and easy like the relaxed state he’s in now. 

   “This place, it’s incredible,” you breathe out, continuing to skim over the spotless shelves, your fingertips clashing with leather and the feel of worn pages. It smells like freedom and escape, someplace where you could stay buried for days. 

   He runs his fingers through his slicked back curls, bicep flexing against his dark blue flannel, an easy smile hanging on his lips. This might be the most relaxed you’ve seen him since you came here. He looks almost… happy the way he’s looking at you all light and carefree, like he’s enjoying the view. Like he’s happy that you’ve found something else you lost. 

   “You like it?” he asks, his eyes caramel pools that you could almost sink into. 

   “I love it,” you reply enthusiastically, your voice almost unrecognizable. 

   A warm smile spreads on his mouth, making his brown eyes sparkle that much more in the dewy sunlight. “Then it’s yours, sweetheart. Borrow anything you want, read what you want.”

   “Really?” you ask with a raised brow, sliding a book back into its place on the second shelf.

   “Really,” he nods with a smile.

   “Joel, thank you. This is… this is perfect.”

   “Jus’ glad I found someone I can share my books with again.” 

   You stay just like that for the next minute — Joel on the other end of the room, looking back at you with the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. It makes your heart flutter, makes you want to smile back, but you just give him a tight-lipped smile and look back at the cream rug covering the floor, suddenly too shaky to say anything else.

   Your eyes snap to something hidden in the corner of the room, a ray of sunlight hitting at just the right angle to make out something you missed entirely when you walked in. You guess you were too enamored by the books to notice the acoustic guitar sitting neatly on a stand right by the sheer curtain hanging over the window. 

   “Is this yours?” you ask, pointing to the acoustic guitar.

   “Oh. Yeah, s’mine.” His eyes fall to the dark wood, the body glossy and sleek as it shines against the draped curtain. A splash of sunlight makes it shimmer for just a moment, until rain clouds cover the sun and cast the guitar back in shadows.

   “You play guitar?” you question curiously as he takes a long, slow stride across the room. 

   “I used to. A long time ago.”

   You watch him make his way over to the guitar. It’s like he’s tiptoeing across glass, careful in his steps to not trip and cut his tanned skin up. That’s how it seems when he hesitantly reaches out to glide his fingertips down the tight strings, skimming his thumb meticulously against the smooth surface of the polished neck as if he’s memorizing every single particle of the instrument. Like he’s reliving something he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world to see.

   He’s quiet as he analyzes the guitar, almost like he’s reliving memories that only he can see. Were they good or bad ones? Judging by his wary stance and slow movements, you wonder if maybe they’re fragile memories.

   “Used to?” you ask quietly, careful not to disturb whatever storm’s blowing through his mind. 

   “‘S’right. Haven’t played in quite some time,” he answers defeatedly as his thumb tracks along the outline of a carved moth. He lingers there for a moment, pinching his eyebrows together as if he’s trying to fight off whatever images are haunting his mind. 

   He looks… sad. Looks as if that guitar holds years of painful memories. 

   “Why’d you stop?” you push, afraid you’ve just struck a nerve by the way his back muscles tense and his jaw clenches up. 

   His hand wraps around the neck of the guitar, veins bulging in his neck as his eyes grow a shade darker. In the flit of sunshine that creeps through the window, you see a glimmer that looks a lot like a held back tear in the center of his right eye. That in itself sends a shot of pain through your chest. 

   He clears his throat and takes a step back, just enough to where he can only graze the edge of the guitar. His dark brown eyes are in a faraway place when he replies hesitantly. “It jus’—it… I guess it’s got a few memories attached to it that makes it hard to play now.”

   When he drops his hand to his side and looks up at you, you see a man who’s hurting deep inside. You can see it in his weathered stare, in the dark circles beneath his sad brown eyes, in the way his bottom lip twitches each time his gaze falls on that acoustic guitar. 

   There’s something he lost, too. You just don’t know what. 

   Before the room gets too stifling and stuffy, he shakes off his frown and nods toward the hallway. “C’mon, I’ve got your coffee waitin’ on the counter for you. Don’t want it to get cold now.”

   “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

   He gives you a tight-lipped smile and exits the room, leaving you all alone once again. You find yourself looking back at the guitar, your eyes feeling heavy as you stare at the little moth ingrained into the smooth wood. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach drop. 

   This guitar was special to him, maybe it still is. You just wonder what can make a big, strong man like him crumble. You don’t want to see him turn to dust like you; you’ve got enough pain for the both of you. He doesn’t deserve pain. He’s too… good. And while he doesn’t technically wear his heart on his sleeve, you can see he keeps the pain hidden behind a mask. 

   Maybe one day he’ll show you his scars, too.

   When you make your way back to the kitchen, your warm cup of coffee is sitting right there on the quartz island, the steam billowing out as if he just poured it. As you slip into your chair, you notice his shoulders are more relaxed and the weathered stare he had back in that room is nearly gone. Whether he put on a mask or tucked his feelings deep inside his pockets to where you can’t see, you still notice the dark lines that edge beneath his brown eyes.

   Something hurt him, and it still haunts him to this day. 

   Slowly taking a sip of the sugary drink, your eyes snap up to him when you hear the deep timbre of his voice. “Used up the rest of the caramel this mornin’.” 

   You swallow the coffee down your throat and shift forward on the barstool. “Already?”

   He chuckles and nods his head your way. “Apparently someone who’s got a sweet tooth used it all. Can’t imagine who that was.” He winks at you, and you can feel the bright blush stain your cheeks the wider his smile gets. 

   Clearing your throat, you push a lock of hair behind your ear and try to stop the red tint from spreading any further. “Looks like you found the culprit.”

   “Looks like it,” he smiles, his lips tugging at his tanned skin, making a deep dimple press into the middle of his cheek. You can’t help yourself, so you give him a shy smile back in return. It seems to make his brown eyes sparkle that much brighter as he stares at you. 

   You take a few more sips of the caramel drink, enjoying every single drop like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. Joel sets down his glass cup and bites his bottom lip, chewing nervously as he glances over at you. “I need to go pick up some things at the grocery store today. Shouldn’t take long at all, but I was wonderin’ if you wanted to come along with me?”

   You choke on a sip of coffee and struggle to find your words. You haven’t been out in the real world in a very long time. You don’t even know how to even interact, nonetheless see strangers passing by you. 

   Tapping your nails nervously against the glass cup, you fight to get the words out. “Oh. You… want me to go to the store with you?”

   “Only if you want. Figured you’d wanna pick some things out.” 

   “Umm. Okay. Sure. I can go with you,” you breathe out nervously, pushing all your fears down as you swallow back the answer you really wanted to say.

   “Alright. Well, how’s ‘bout you finish up breakfast, and we can go after you get ready?” His thumb brushes over the curve of his coffee cup, and your eyes track his movements as he slowly brings the edge to his lips. 

   And then you’re swallowing back fears again and dropping your eyes to the floor, awaiting the panic that’ll surely flood your system when you get to the store. 

   You can do this. Fight the fear. 

   Biting the bullet, you look up and give him a slight nod. “Okay, after breakfast.”

   Joel grins and turns back to the refrigerator, away from your now wide eyes. You’re suddenly regretting your choice, but you have to go through with it. You have to be brave. For yourself. 

   You can do this. 

   Light rain patters on the passenger window, sending water droplets splashing along the side mirror. It’s only sprinkling, but the thunder in the near distance makes it seem like it might pour down at any second. 

   The engine hums as the wheels roll on the pavement, green trees blurring as Joel drives along the long, straight road. An old country song seeps through the speakers as Joel’s thumb taps along to the catchy tune. It’s oddly peaceful, driving with him in his truck. It almost makes you forget the nerves crawling up your spine. 

   “Does it always rain this much in Texas? I thought it was supposed to be like a desert here,” you ask, your eyes tracking the sea of trees outside your window.

   “Usually is. Hell, we’re usually in a drought. But for some reason, we’ve been gettin’ a record amount this year. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he says as he continues driving through the mist.

   “That’s strange.” You trace the condensation on the window and draw little lines, hoping you’ll forget you’re about to go out in public. 

   “You must’ve brought some rain from Washington.” He smiles over at you and continues tapping his thumb along to the rhythm of the upbeat song. 

   “Guess I did,” you laugh under your breath as you finish off your window art of a blooming flower.

   The music goes silent as Joel turns down the radio with the pad of his index finger. When you turn to look at him with questions in your eyes, he clears his throat and looks warily over at you. “Do you… do you miss it?”

   “Miss what?” you whisper, letting your fingers pull against the edge of your warm sweater. 

   “Washington,” he responds back, eyes flicking between you and the road ahead.

   You take a moment to envision the forest green trees, the frigid air by the edge of the sea, the cliffsides you used to hang over to stare into the deep blue ocean. And that’s when you feel a sharp pain jab inside your chest. “Sometimes… I miss the waterfalls, the salty breeze of the ocean, the beautiful nature. I’ve never seen a state as gorgeous as Washington. And how green it is? Yeah, I guess I do miss it…”

   The front of the truck grows quiet as Joel takes in your answer. His palm rakes against his dark beard slowly, brushing across his mouth like he’s thinking really hard about your answer. And just when you think he’ll drop the conversation, he says something that leaves you speechless.

   “I’ll take you back.”

   Your eyes blow wide as you repeat the sentence in your head. I’ll take you back. Why would he do that…

   “What?” you ask, jaw dropped like you just got slapped in the face. 

   He gives you a small smile and looks over at you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “When you’re ready, that is. And only if you want to go back. I could help you get your feet back on the ground, find you a nice place where you’ll be comfortable. If that’s what you want.”

   You stare at him dumbstruck, your words lodged deep in your throat with every second that ticks by. He’ll take you back. But why would he do that for you? Why would he do what no one else would? Why does he care what happens to you…

   “Joel, that’s—that’s too much. I can’t ask you to do that,” you protest, shaking your head like what he just said is impossible.

   He shakes his head, making a sandy lock of hair fall against the side of his forehead. “It’s not too much, and I’d do it in a heartbeat. S’no trouble,” he says adamantly, like he won’t hear anything else about it. It’s settled for him.

   “Thank you…” you whisper out, your voice barely audible above the hum of the engine. 

   He arches an eyebrow and looks over at you, tugging his lips into an easy smile. “Ya know, gonna have to get you your own car, too.”

   “Joel,” you warn through clenched teeth. He is not getting you a car. Absolutely no way.

   “What?” he shrugs. “You can’t get around without a car.”

   You shake your head unbelievably and open your mouth wide. “I can’t pay for a car.”

   “‘M not askin’ you to. I’ve got money.”

   And again, you can’t believe how insistent and easy-going he’s taking this. “Joel. I can’t ask you for a car. Absolutely not. And besides, I’m not ready to drive yet.”

   He flashes you a smile and gives you a nod of encouragement. “S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get there in time. And when you do, you’ll have a car.”

   You lick your bottom lip, frustrated slightly that he’s being so kind to you. No one has ever been this nice in your entire life. Not even your parents… Why is he treating you like you’re important? You’ve never been important. So why does he act like you’re the only thing that currently matters? 

   “There’s no stopping you, is there?” you give up, your back flush to the warm seat as you stare into deep brown eyes that belong to the kindest man you’ve ever met. 

   He thinks you’re important. 

   “Not a chance,” he chuckles, his airy laugh floating through the cabin of the truck, striking another nerve in your heart. 

   He’s so kind, more than that. He genuinely wants you to thrive, to live. That takes a little weight off your heavy chest.

   It’s quiet for a moment, only the light wind and patter of raindrops taking up the space. But then he shifts uncomfortably and flicks his wandering eyes back over at you. There’s a deep crease between his thick eyebrows, and that look has you back on the edge of your seat. “Can I ask you somethin’?” he asks delicately.

   You swallow back nerves and nod your head in response. “Umm, okay. Sure.”

   “What, umm. What happened to your parents, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

   The question makes you tilt a little off your axis, throws you off just enough to where your right hand is discreetly clenched so tight around the side of the seat that you swear it turns pale white. You weren’t prepared for that question. You’re never prepared. But, you might as well just spill it. What else do you have to lose? 

   “They—they died when I was fifteen… Crashed their car on the side of a mountain, and they ended up rolling off the edge. On the very same day they were driving to get a divorce…”

   His eyes blow wide for a second and in the next he’s dragging a heavy hand over his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart. ‘M so sorry. That’s… traumatic.”

   You can’t help but to puff out a pathetic laugh from that. Your life has been nothing but traumatic; you just learn to live through it. 

   You silently nod and continue on. “After I found out, the judge decided I’d go live with my uncle. An uncle who barely talked to me. He didn’t even want me there, but I had no other options. So, I left as soon as I turned eighteen and moved into a dorm when I went to college.”

   “Is he still…”

   “He moved out of Washington as soon as I left. Last I heard, he died from a heart attack. So I’ve just kinda been on my own since I was eighteen. But really, I’ve been alone for much longer than that.”

   The inside of the truck goes completely silent, except the quiet hum of the purring engine. You don’t exactly like talking about your family drama and your awful past, but it’s easier when you already feel dead inside. Maybe if you talk enough Joel will decide to drop you off on the side of the street and leave you with a good luck wave. 

   He wouldn’t do that, though. That’s just your unhinged mind spiraling like your entire life is.  

   “That’s… fuck. No one should ever be put through that. What you did, what you had to do. M’so sorry.”

   You shrug it off and act like you’re just fine, but really you just don’t want to cry. You don’t want to show him how weak and pathetic you truly are. You used to be stronger than this… 

   Holding in a sob, you play it off like it’s nothing. “It’s alright. I mean, I’ve been through a lot worse since then. I guess I’m good at being alone…”

   It gets quiet again, only light breathing and shifting uncomfortably in your seat, trying to hide the pain that’s serenading through your body. Joel’s eyes keep flicking over to you, a pained expression masking his tanned face. He’s clenching his jaw, running his fingers through his dark locks, fisting the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. 

   His head turns to you when he’s stopped at a red light, and his eyes turn a lighter honey color, and those soft eyes nearly shatter you in your seat. “You don’t have to be. Alone. You don’t have to be alone anymore...”

   You swallow back the tears building in your eyes while your mouth drops open in awe. Before you even get the chance to say anything, he’s stepping on the gas and looking back into the fog of the rainy day. 

   You don’t have to be alone anymore. 

   The rest of the ride is silent as you contemplate his words and their meaning. You don’t have to be alone. He means you don’t have to be alone because he’s here now. He won’t let you be alone. Joel is the one person who isn't giving up on you. 

   He’s so patient, so generous, so good. He’s too good for you but here he is, wading through the rough waters to make sure your head’s above the waves. He won’t let you drown. Not today, maybe not ever…

   After a few more minutes, the truck is abruptly stopping, and Joel is cutting the engine. Your head lurches up, and you stare vacantly at the semi-busy parking lot. 

   The parking lot…

   It looks just like the one you got taken from… Rows of parked cars sit along the damp cement, empty carts are scattered ahead in the little blue cart holder, people rush to and from the store back to their cars. And then you see a man exit his white Sedan with a black baseball cap backwards on his head. The sight has you flinching, your nails digging into the leather of the seat when he turns his head and looks directly at you. It’s only for a second, but you feel those black pits searing into your skull just like that day they took you…

   “Well, here we are. A little more crowded than I thought it’d be for a Wednesday afternoon. We can jus’—.”Joel’s hand clasps the side of the driver’s door as he steps out, looking back at you with worried brown eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

   It’s like your voice is lurched deep in your throat as water consumes your entire vocal cords. You can’t swallow, can’t speak, can barely even blink as you watch the shady man cross the road, taking one look back at you until he disappears behind the clear sliding doors of the store. And it still feels like he’s watching you, planning his next move to where he can get you alone. 

   You remember that day all over again, just like it was yesterday. And now, all you can think of to do is panic.

   “N… no. I—.” You can’t even finish your sentence, only able to throw your seatbelt off and claw at the door handle, feeling like you’re suffocating on thick air that nearly strangles you to death. 

   You need to flee, run until your lungs collapse, but you have nowhere to go. 

   Tears well in your eyes as you fight to push out the images of the day you were taken, but they only push back harder, igniting your memories into fresh ones. You’re hyperventilating, holding your chest so tightly that you feel your heart skyrocket as you shake in your seat while your feet are planted on the wet cement of the parking lot. 

   Joel hurries around the side of the truck and throws your door open, trying his best to calm you down. “Hey, hey. It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re alright. Breathe for me.”

   “Joel… I…”

   “Breathe,” he coaxes in a soothing bravado voice. He kneels down in front of you to where he’s looking right up at you, and he’s got those soft brown eyes — the ones that always seem to calm you down. And when you have enough courage to lift your eyes, there they are. Warm, brown, soft, soothing. He’s soothing. 

   “That’s it. Take a nice deep breath for me. Jus’ like that. Attagirl,” he praises, keeping his honey-colored eyes right on you. 

   “I—I was…” you start but like always, you can’t finish. 

   You’re pathetic.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. M’right here. Jus’ breathe for me. And when you’re ready, tell me what’s wrong.” His hand brushes past your feet, close enough to touch your exposed ankle, but he never does. Because he knows better. He knows it’ll just set off a string of catastrophic events that’ll only lead you into a deeper black hole than you already are. 

   But yet, you can’t help but want it. Because you feel how warm he is. Just like that night he carried you to the bathroom. You remember how warm and comforting you felt with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, remember his woodsy cologne drowning out your fight or flight panic, remember how gentle he was with you…

   You slowly lift your eyes up and push away the screaming voices in your mind. They seem to come to a jarring halt when you meet those soft brown eyes and a face you swear has an angelic glow about it. His fingers flex against the floorboard, just enough to where you can feel the warmth from his tanned skin, and just that motion causes your heart to still for just a beat. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. 

   After a few more seconds of steady breaths and his heavy gaze honing in on you, you get enough courage to shakily let your words out. “I was—I was taken in a parking lot just like this. In the middle of the day. And I—I guess I wasn’t quite ready to see another one.”

   He falls silent, and his face drops like he’s just seen a ghost. His eyes glaze over as a heavy hand rakes down his clipped beard, slowly dragging it over his lips as he takes in your words. “Oh. Christ, m’so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think ‘bout that before I brought you here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

   Shaking your head back and forth, you swallow and grimace. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d freak out. But then the memories hit me and I—I… it’s my fault. It’s all my—.”

   He leans into the side of the truck, careful not to touch you, but still close enough to where you can almost taste his woodsy breath. “Shh. Don’t for a second think of apologizin’, sweetheart. None of this is your fault. Not one fuckin’ bit of it.”

   He looks at you so intensely, so cautiously that you can clearly see the amber flecks that swirl under the cloudy skies, his jaw flexing back and forth as he searches for more to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything. You feel what he’s feeling. Regret, rage, sorrow. He wishes it never happened to you.

   You take a shaky breath and glance up behind him, right as an older couple with two kids clinging to their arms passes peacefully by. A car door slams shut across the way, and it makes you jump in place, remembering that very moment you were corralled into a black van as the door slammed shut behind you, warning you that you were trapped.

   As you cringe in your seat and feel your knuckles go white, you whisper, “I’m scared, Joel. I can’t—I can’t...”

   “Hey. Can you look up at me?” he asks gently, slightly brushing the pad of his thumb against the side of your shoe. When you look up with watery eyes, he gives you an encouraging nod. “There ya go.”

   Your body is trembling with every swift movement and every screeching halt of tires in the parking lot. You start to drift back into a panic, but Joel sees right through you and pulls you right back out with his chocolate brown eyes.

   “Keep your eyes on me. Right on me. That’s it. Such a brave girl,” he coos; his voice sounding like a melodic tune that vanishes all your dark thoughts from wrapping their tangled vines completely around your stirred mind. 

   As you continue to stare at those beautiful caramel eyes, you get lost in the sound of his Southern drawl. “I want you to focus on one thing. It can be anything. A scent, a color, whatever brings you comfort. And I want you to focus on that one thing until your mind starts to quiet down.”

   You look around the truck, searching the fresh leather, letting your eyes wander to a nearby green tree, focusing on some drifting stormy clouds that cover the sun. But none of that makes you feel good or even remotely calm, so you let your eyes wander to the rugged, Southern gentleman who’s kneeling right in front of you, begging with those soft brown eyes for you to get even just a semblance of a second of peace. 

   Warm. He’s so warm.

   You get lost in his cinnamon, woodsy scent, fade into his coffee-colored eyes and feel like you’re crashing right into him. You can’t seem to stop staring, almost like you’re under a lovesick spell, but really it’s just your body telling you he is what brings you comfort. Joel Miller, the man who saved you from your impending doom. 

   So, that’s what you focus on. Him and his warm brown eyes.

   “Okay,” you finally whisper out, never dropping your eyes from his.

   He looks at you a second and tilts his head, making sure he heard you right. “You got it?”

   “Mhm,” you hum back.

   A faint smile appears on his mouth and then his hand is skimming the brim of the floor, close enough for you to feel the electricity from his touch zapping your leggings. But still, he doesn’t dare touch you. He’d never do it without your permission. You know this now. 

   “Now, close your eyes and picture that one thing that’s gonna drown out everything else,” he says through the light rain pattering on the tips of his broad shoulders, right onto his soft blue flannel. 

   “Joel…” you reply back leery. 

   “You trust me?” he asks with knit together eyebrows.

   You chew your bottom lip for a second before you answer, throwing the question back and forth between your brain. “I—yes.”

   He gives you a smile and nods. “Close ‘em for me then. Jus’ for a second.” You do exactly as he says.

   When your eyes are fully shut, his Southern drawl floats through your ears. “Focus on my voice, sweetheart. Focus on how still it is; make your heart that same rhythm. Slow it down, jus’ like my words.”

   You focus on every breath he breathes, every sound of the shift of his shoulders, every whisk of the wind sweeping through his tousled curls. For this moment, every single other restless sound outside the truck is silent. For the first time, all you hear is him.

   You center your mind on him and him alone. And when that whiff of cedar trees and mahogany swirl all around you, you relax and breathe him in like he’s the last thing you’ll ever smell.

   “Now, open your eyes,” he says after you lose track of time. 

   You slowly lift your eyelids and look out beneath your lashes as those bright brown eyes send you into a cloud of serenity. And in that moment, you really do feel like you’re home. 

   “There ya go, nice and slow. Feel that? Things are a bit quieter now,” he says gently, giving you a soft smile that makes you choke back tears. 

   Nodding, you reply, “Yeah, it actually is quieter.”

   It’s quiet for a beat as you sit there, your palms on your thighs, fingers digging into your leggings, but his presence right in front of you is oddly calming. Just like taking a deep breath of Washington air in the mountains. You swear you almost smell those pine trees like you’re there, but it’s Joel you smell.

   “You feel a little better?” he asks, scratching his fingers down his greying scruff, brown eyes flicking up at you like you’re the most important thing in the room.

   “Yes,” you nod, still trying to wrap your mind around how quickly Joel was able to calm you down. 

   “See? Knew you could do it.” His smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and it makes you give him a shy smile in return. 

   When’s the last time someone was able to get you to smile? You can’t even remember. 

   “I did it because you helped me,” you confirm, wanting to make sure he knows he was the reason you had the courage to break through your panic attack.

   “That’s right, sweetheart. I helped you, but you were the one that broke the panic attack. You’re so very brave, and I hope you know that.”

   You’re so brave. He called you brave.

   The way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat. All soft and gentle and warm. You’ve never been around a man like Joel. Never once knew how good a man could be. But Joel, he’s like an angel sent from Heaven’s gates just for you. Or so it seems. 

   You swore to never trust a man again, but you can trust him. 

   “Now, you think you can make it in the store?” He tilts his head in the direction of the sliding doors, just as a young couple walks in with an empty grocery basket.

   Gulping some courage down, you nod. “I—I think so.”

   “Attagirl. Now, c’mon.” He holds the door open for you and calls your name softly, giving you that jolt you need to exit the truck. “It’s alright. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya. Not while I’m here.”

   “You promise?” you ask when your feet hit the concrete, your voice shaky like you don’t quite believe him, but you do.

   “Promise,” he nods, his crow’s feet pulling at the corners of his bright eyes. It’s enough to get your legs moving.

   “Okay,” you whisper.

   You follow closely on his heels, your fingertips grazing the bottom of his flannel, close enough to grab on if you need to. Your heart is galloping a thousand miles an hour with every step you take, but his woodsy scent is just enough to quiet down the yelling in your head.

   When you get to the edge of the sliding doors, you freeze when they open to a busy grocery store. The loud noises of rustling bags and screeching wheels of carts is enough to make you want to run the opposite way.

   Joel must sense your worry because he brushes his arm next to yours and looks down at you with knitted eyebrows. “S’alright. I’m gonna be right by your side every step of the way. You can do this.”

   You can do this. 

   Looking up into his syrupy brown eyes gives you that little bit of strength to get you moving again. And when he grabs a shopping cart and beckons you to follow him, you do.

   “Thanks for believing in me, Joel,” you say graciously.

   “Always.”

   You keep right by his side, the fluorescent lights feeling like spotlights shining down on you. It’s like every single person shifts their eyes toward you, faces distorted and smiling like they’re laughing at your fear. The music that filters out of the speakers makes your ears ring. Children run rampant around a restless mother, a tall man with a backwards baseball cap reaches across a barrel full of pineapples, and it’s as if he’s reaching for your wrist. 

   Without thinking, you grab on to the end of Joel’s flannel and tug it toward you, digging your fingers into the soft cotton as if it’s a safety blanket. The smell of fresh firewood and green grass envelops your senses and for the moment, everything becomes a little more still. 

   “You keep tuggin’ on my flannel and you’re gonna pull it right off,” Joel chuckles, giving you a small smile as he looks back at you. 

   “Oh, sorry,” you apologize, dropping your fingers as if you just upset him. 

   “Don’t gotta apologize. You jus’ hang on if that’s what you need right now.”

   You slowly reach back up and flex your fingers around the blue material, peeking up hesitantly beneath your lashes. 

   “Your flannel, it smells like the forest. Reminds me of the mountains in Washington. It umm… it calms me down.”

   “Well then, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Those pools of honey liquid melt you on the spot; his warm smile takes the edge of fear off your chest for just that moment. And when that whiff of autumn from his white t-shirt floats through the air, it’s like he saved you all over again. 

   He drops his hands from the shopping cart and starts unbuttoning his flannel, carefully shrugging it off his broad shoulders as you stare blankly up at him. And then, he’s holding out the faded blue material to you.

   “No, I can’t. I’m fine. I—.” You take a step back and press a palm his way.

   “Here, put it on,” he insists, stretching his arm until you have no option but to take it.

   “Are you sure?” you squeak out, unsure of yourself.

   “Mhm. Want you to feel safe. And if this makes you feel a little calmer, want you to wear it.”

   Hesitating, you carefully pluck it from his reach and end up sliding your hand against the back of his, feeling a tingle of a spark from his worn, calloused skin.

   “Thanks, Joel,” you whisper above the monotone music playing over the store speakers.

   “Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.” He nods his head toward the produce section and smiles. “C’mon.”

   You stay right beside him, almost flush to his hip with every wavering stride you take, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. No, he just keeps his brown eyes flickering over to you every minute that ticks by, encouraging you with that kind smile of his, telling you with the curve of his lips that you’re doing so well. You can almost hear that Southern drawl sliding off his tongue. 

   I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Doin’ so good. Look at you, bein’ the bravest girl I know. 

   Even though he’s not verbally saying those things at this second, you can tell he’s thinking it with the way his doe eyes soften every time they look your way. You can tell by how warm and kind his essence is, how his smile seems to send a flicker of sunshine your way even behind a thick wall of grey clouds. 

   He’s just… safe. You feel so safe around him, and that’s something you’ve never felt in your entire life. You’ve never been safe. But with him, you just might be.

   The clicking of heels and the stare of curious eyes makes you physically cringe and tense your shoulders, thinking one of them will snatch you away yet again. You keep your mind busy by counting the threads of Joel’s blue flannel, training your eyes on his slicked back tan curls, meticulously staring at every single strand that’s wrapped in a silver glow. It seems to help, gives the impression that maybe you can do this. And you are. 

   At times when he strays too far, you reach for him unintentionally. It’s like your hand is magnetized to the feel of his cotton shirt, your fingers curling into the thick material. And again, he doesn’t seem to mind, only smiles and goes on with gathering groceries. 

   He doesn’t forget the caramel, doesn’t forget to grab a few bottles of vanilla creamer and extra sugar. In fact, those were the things he went for first. 

   He doesn’t forget things. Doesn’t forget what you wanted. And that in itself proves something. What, you’re not sure. But it proves he cares, that you do know.

   You follow him to the produce section and watch him shift his focus on picking the best meat, promising to get the best steak for dinner. You haven’t had steak in years, and you don’t doubt for one second that Joel can cook a mean one. 

   Averting your eyes from his pensive stare and flexed jaw, your gaze wanders over to the cereal aisle, and you suddenly have the biggest craving for a box of Cocoa Pebbles.  

   Saliva gathers in your mouth as you think of how sugary and good and delightful a mouthful of chocolatey goodness would taste right now. Without thinking, you pull on the end of his shirt, stretching the material mindlessly as your brain transfixes on the mountain of sugar just a few feet away. It’d be so easy to go grab a box, but your feet won’t move, your words won’t form because you’re terrified to be alone for even a second in a grocery store of all places.

   With one more slight tug on the edge of his t-shirt, he turns with a soft expression and questions, “What is it, sweetheart?” No anger or hint of annoyance in his Southern drawl, just pure warmth. 

   Your voice stays silent, your immense stare fixed on that aisle of sugar and thousands of calories you’d happily inhale. You’re sure your frail body would thank you, even if it was just junk. Joel’s eyes trace over yours, following to where yours end, and then a small chuckle leaves his lips. “You wanna go grab some?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Go on then. Why don’t you go pick some out?” He nods to the empty aisle, encouraging you on. But you stand there like your feet are cemented to the shiny floor, and you have no intention of moving. 

   Fear pulses through your blood, and anxiety is trickling down your spine. Joel takes a step forward and drawls in a low but soothing voice, “S’okay. I’ll be right here watchin’. You can do it, sweetheart.”

   You look up and see warm pools of honey staring down at you and a smile that makes your knees feel weak. He’s so fucking soft with you. 

   Nodding, you take a step forward and then another, dragging your feet toward the aisle of boxes of sugary goodness. The further you get away from him, the more anxious you get. 

   What if someone takes you, gets too close to your liking, grabs your arm and drags you away? Looking back toward Joel, he gives you a small nod, telling you it’s okay. You’re okay. 

   Turning back to your task at hand, you start scanning the shelves, your appetite suddenly stimulated as you scavenge for what you’re looking for. Saliva is coating the back of your tongue, your stomach rumbling. There’s too many choices, too many kinds you want. 

   When you finally spot a box of Cocoa Pebbles, you see two more kinds you want. Lucky Charms and Cinnamon Toast Crunch sit right next to each other, calling your name for you to take them. Gritting your teeth together, you make a choice. You want all three, so you dip into your impulses and grab them all up. Hopefully Joel doesn’t mind. 

   A middle-aged man passes you in the row, and your muscles tighten around you, making you squish the boxes together in your arms. You focus on deep breaths, telling yourself he’s not going to hurt you. Not every man is out to get you, but it certainly feels like that now. Maybe one day you’ll be able to break the cycle of thinking that. 

   Quickly passing the stranger, you prance up to Joel, all three cereal boxes shoved together in your arms, just like you’re a kid in a candy store. You hear him chuckling before you lift your eyes up to him, and then he lets out a belly-aching laugh. 

   “Look at you with three boxes. You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t ya?”

   You feel your cheeks grow warm as you set the boxes down in the cart. Nervous laughter filters out of your mouth. “I couldn’t quite decide what I wanted. I can put some back if…”

   “No. I’m jus’ teasin’, sweetheart. You get as many kinds as you want. Ain’t got a limit with me.” His wide grin and crow’s feet makes a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. 

   “Thanks,” you say shyly. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had any cereal, or really any kind of sugar. So, this is different. I’m not used to any of this.”

   Understanding hits his brown eyes and his jaw clenches as something tosses through his mind. “Well, we’re jus’ gonna have to change that, ain’t we?” 

   Pursing your lips, you nod. “Call me a work in progress.”

   He gives you a soft smile and wraps a large hand around the cart. “You’re doin’ jus’ fine, sweetheart. Makin’ plenty of progress jus’ by steppin’ foot in this store today. Proud of you.”

   He’s proud of you.

   “I wouldn’t have even made it into the store if it wasn’t for you…”

   He takes a long look at you and just stands there for a few seconds, searching for the right words to say. “It was all you, sweetheart. You jus’ needed a little push in the right direction and someone to be there for you.”

   “Thank you for being there when I needed someone, Joel…” you whisper, your eyes a little misty with emotions running rampant through your body. 

   It looks like he wants to reach out, but he just grips the handle of the shopping cart tighter and tips his head. “‘Course, sweetheart. Whenever you need me.”

   Whenever you need me. The words get stuck on repeat in your brain as you follow him through the rest of the grocery store. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

   When you’re all checked out and the bagged groceries are sitting inside the cart, you realize Joel’s flannel is still wrapped around you. You don’t want to take it off necessarily. It smells like him, and it’s so warm and cozy and basically drenched in forest air. But, it’s not yours. You slowly start to shed the warm layer, but he stops you before you can get it past your elbows. 

   “Keep it, sweetheart.” He presses a palm out, pausing you in your tracks.

   “Don’t you want it back?” you ask with knitted brows.

   “Nah, you go ahead and keep it,” he answers. Before you can walk out the door, he turns and smiles warmly at you. “Besides, it looks better on you.” And then he continues on, like he didn’t just give you a compliment. 

   It looks better on you. 

   You hug the blue flannel back against your body, breathing in the very essence of him that seems to calm every single nerve in your body. 

   He gave you his flannel.

   Once the groceries are all packed away in the back of the truck and both you and Joel are buckled up, he turns to you before driving out of the parking lot. “So, you wanna go get ice cream?” 

   “Ice cream?”

   “Mhm. Ice cream,” he confirms.

   “Whatever for?” you giggle.

   “Don’t you like ice cream?” he inquires, flicking his brown eyes over your way.

   “Well, yes. But…”

   “I think brave girls deserve ice cream. Don’t you?”

   You study him, looking for any sign of lies in the crow’s feet that pull tightly around the edges of his chocolate brown eyes, but you find none. He isn’t messing with you or your mind; he’s being completely sincere when he uses the word brave. “You think I’m a brave girl?”

   “The bravest.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling like golden orbs under the grey skies, and it just confirms how warm he is. 

   You gawk at him, your lips parting as you just stare and stare at him. He thinks you’re brave, and he wants to take you for ice cream? Who even is this man? 

   “What?” He catches you staring and probably wonders why you’re just marveling over him. He must not realize you’re completely mesmerized by every single thing he does. 

   No one’s ever treated you so human. Like you’re important and matter. Joel sees you. He really sees you. Your layers and all. Just like transparent glass.

   “You just surprise me, that's all,” you answer hesitantly, eyes still focused on his tanned skin and wrinkles that line like maps across his face. Something you could trace easily. “You’re not exactly what I expected, I guess.”

   “And what’d you expect?” He quirks an eyebrow up as the engine hums under your seat, his eyes making their way back to your face.

   “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d be so… kind.”

   He curls his lips into a sideways smile while he taps his thumb against the leather steering wheel, eyes still focused directly on you. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

   “You don’t even have to. You just are. Just like that first night I saw you sitting there across the room. Your eyes seemed so… kind.”

   Everything seems to quiet down for a moment, only the sound of your heart, the slow motion of the tires hitting the wet pavement, the thick tension coursing through the air, and Joel’s clear brown eyes that are smothering your insides. They speak louder than tidal waves, those deep brown irises. And right now, they’re making your heart clench in your chest.

   He clears his throat and then the tension dissipates. “So, how ‘bout that ice cream?” He wraps his large palm around the steering wheel and smiles over, making you mirror one right back to him.

   “I’d love some ice cream.”

   “Attagirl. Let’s go get you sugared up, then.” As he pulls out of the shopping center and drives down the smooth road, you giggle silently and watch the trickles of raindrops drip down the side of the passenger window. 

   “Have you ever tried espresso ice cream?” you ask, shifting your weight so you can see the question roll over his brown eyes.

   “As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

   “I think you’d like it,” you chirp.

   He turns his head and looks at you, pulling his lips into a smirk. “Reckon I would. That what you recommend?”

   “Mhm,” you hum. “Since you like coffee so much, might be your new favorite flavor.”

   He huffs out a laugh. “Well, looks like that’s what I’m gonna have to get. Let’s see what other recommendations you have for me.”

   As you lean against the window, you place the back of your hand over your mouth to cover the blush that's building in your cheeks. Who knew this is where you’d be in the middle of Wednesday afternoon this time of year? In a truck, wearing Joel’s flannel, getting ice cream, being free of your captors… And all you can smell is the fresh woodsy scent of him surrounding you.

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

@whxtedreams @sawymredfox @sanarsi @mountainsandmayhem @bitchytimetravelqueen

@southernbe @katinasweeney @pixelspunk @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@christinamadsen @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69 @alltheirdamn

@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @fandomdaydreamer @elliaze

@callmecath1 @kulekehe @yorkshirewench @untamedheart81

@tateypots @stylesispunk @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @mellymbee @pascalsbae

@locaparapedrito @ladyofmidlo72 @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @axshadows

@here-briefly @cozylittlepigeon @pastawench @keylimebeag @joelsoftie

@romanarose @captainredspade @megangovier @bishtrouille @almodovarispunk

@papipascaaaal @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @bambisweethearts @puddles221b

@valkyreally @northennlights

[sherewrytes]

Ex husband Eren:

warning: smut, angst and whatever else my mind can come up with on a whim :)Son's name is Lennox

word count: 14070

I didnt proof read this, i just wrote

Ex husband Eren:

Eren wasn't sure how he went from landing himself the best woman he ever had in his life. It wasn't only your looks that drew him in. It was the way you cared for him when no one in his life did. You were the first person to show him love, care, the works. Part of him knew he should've been around more; said I love you more. He knew the divorce was his fault in the end

but that being said, he is determined to make up for lost time.

your pov

Today is Eren's pick-up day for your 3-year-old son Lennox. he's splitting image of him. The only difference is he's tanner and has curly hair. You were well trying to wrangle your son to get ready to spend the usual 3 days with his father. "Lenny, baby, Mommy has to get you ready to go see Daddy" You watch him smile and run off screaming obviously thinking you both are playing a game.

Eren’s POV

Eren watched you through the screen door as you tried to keep up with Lennox, who was darting around the room like a flash of tan curls and excitement. He could still picture the last time he tried to wrangle the little guy, getting lost in his joy. Lennox was so much like you in spirit, so much like him in looks—a constant reminder of everything Eren could have had if he’d just been the man you deserved. But the past three months had been eye-opening, pushing him to reflect on what went wrong.

Now, more than anything, he wanted to show you that he could change.

Your POV

"Gotcha!" you exclaimed, finally scooping Lennox into your arms as he squealed and laughed. "All right, mister, let’s get you packed for Daddy’s place," you murmured, knowing Eren would be at the door any moment.

You felt the telltale rush of nerves every time he came by to pick Lennox up. But you knew what this was about: Eren’s endless excuses to linger, his almost-too-frequent “accidental” brushes against your hand when he passed you something, the way his gaze lingered on you just a bit too long. Even now, a small part of you couldn’t ignore the slight thrill that ran through you whenever he looked at you with that hungry, brooding expression.

When the doorbell rang, you opened it to find Eren, a faint smirk on his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes moving over you in a way that felt all too familiar.

Eren’s POV

As you stood there, holding Lennox on your hip, Eren couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over you. God, you hadn’t changed—you were still stunning, more so now, with a soft confidence he hadn’t appreciated enough before. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to play it cool, but every part of him screamed to close the gap, to reach for you.

After a few minutes of small talk, Eren, still standing close, tilted his head. “You know,” he began, lowering his voice as his fingers lightly grazed the bare skin of your arm, “if you’re free later, maybe we could talk. Just us. I’ve missed you, and…I think we both know there’s more to say.”

As Lennox wiggled away from your grip, he made a quick dash for the lamp on the side table. "Lennox," you sighed, moving to stop him, but Eren took the chance to gently nudge you aside, his hand lingering on your waist just a bit longer than necessary.

"I got this," he murmured, stepping forward to deal with your son, who was now pouting up at him with a little frown that looked way too familiar.

“Hey, Lenny, remember what I said last time? Lamps are not toys,” Eren scolded gently, lifting Lennox into his arms. His tone was calm, but firm, his gaze softening as Lennox’s pout deepened, looking almost identical to yours when you were annoyed with him. Eren couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips as he saw your reflection in your son’s stubborn expression.

“He’s a handful,” you muttered, crossing your arms and trying not to notice how easily Eren handled Lennox. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you’d fallen for him, back when things were simpler, back when he wasn’t so…absent.

“Wonder where he gets it from,” Eren quipped, casting a sidelong glance in your direction. When you rolled your eyes again, he chuckled, that low sound you used to love. "What?" he challenged. "You know, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Friends or not, that’s not something that changes."

A part of you wanted to brush it off, to laugh or scoff, but his voice was different this time—low and earnest, with a hint of regret and maybe something else. For a moment, it felt like you were back in the early days when he could sweep you off your feet with just a few words. You swallowed, trying to hold onto the resolve you’d built up over the past few months.

“Eren,” you started, keeping your tone firm. “You know why this doesn’t work anymore. We’re not the same people we were back then.”

He shifted, pulling Lennox close before meeting your gaze again. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss us. And it doesn’t mean I won’t try to fix things—no matter how long it takes.”

“You should go, Eren,” you said, your tone firm but with a hint of exasperation as you watched Lennox starting to rub his eyes. “You know he gets cranky if he doesn’t nap soon.”

Eren gave a sly smile, leaning just a little closer. “Or,” he replied softly, “I can just stay.”

“That’s not a good idea, Yeager.” You crossed your arms, trying to keep your tone steady, but his closeness made it difficult.

“Oh, so I’m ‘Yeager’ now? Not Eren?” His smirk widened, but there was something softer in his eyes. “Just my last name, huh?”

“It is your last name,” you shot back, holding your ground.

He let the silence linger, his gaze not wavering. “It’s yours as well,” he murmured, leaning even closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Was, Eren. It was.”

The words hit him harder than he’d expected, and for a moment, he stood there, at a loss. Then he sighed, nodding and glancing down at Lennox, who had started nodding off in his arms. “Right. But it doesn’t have to be that way,” he said softly, almost to himself.

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you quickly shook it off. "That’s in the past," you replied, taking Lennox gently from his arms and feeling the warmth of Eren's lingering touch. "Just…take him for the weekend, Eren.”

Eren nodded, but his hand reached out, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment. “I’ll see you soon.” He left with a final, lingering glance, and as the door shut, you couldn’t help but wonder if the past was as distant as you tried to make it.

Eren strapped Lennox into his car seat in his Matte black G wagon Lennox was giggling and smiling in the back seat heading back to his place. Eren wishes he didn’t have to leave their… y/n’s home.

Later, as the kids finally passed out after an eventful evening spent with Onyankapon's daughter Rummie and Connie’s son, Connie Jr., Eren sat around with the guys, unwinding with a couple of drinks. Inevitably, the conversation turned to wives and relationships, as it always did—except this time, Eren felt the strange, familiar sting of being the only single one in the room.

Ony smirked, scrolling through his phone. “Kaylah’s out clubbing tonight,” he muttered.

“Her too,” Connie chimed in. “Solene’s going with her.”

Ony shrugged. “Yeah, I heard they’re all going to that new place, Paradia. They even convinced Y/N to go.”

Eren’s jaw tightened at the mention of your name. “Wait. Who’s going?”

Ony shook his head, already seeing where this was going. “Not this again, Eren. Leave her alone, man.”

“Nah, nah, I just asked a question,” Eren muttered defensively, but there was an edge in his voice.

Ony glanced at him, exasperated. “That’s why she left your ass in the first place.”

Eren’s eyes darkened as he set down his drink. “And what do you even know about my marriage, huh?”

Ony didn’t back down. “More than you, apparently, ‘cause Y/N’s been complaining about your shit for years.”

Connie raised a hand, trying to de-escalate. “Yo, Ony, chill—”

But Ony wasn’t stopping. “Nah, someone’s gotta tell him.”

Eren clenched his jaw, barely able to keep his temper in check. “Tell me what, man?”

Connie sighed, glancing at Eren with a mixture of frustration and pity. “Eren, look—you’ve been neglecting her for years. Choosing to hang with us instead of being home with her, ignoring her calls when she’s just checking in…arguing over money when you both know that’s not even an issue for either of you. You act like she doesn’t mean anything to you, like she’s just there. You want me to go on?”

Eren was silent, his fists clenched, staring at the floor as their words started to sink in. He knew, deep down, that they were right. And yet, hearing it laid out like that hit him harder than he’d expected.

Ony didn’t hold back, his voice steady but with an edge that cut deep. “And let’s not forget about that toxic-ass friend of yours. The one who kept telling you to bail on her, hyping you up to act like she didn’t matter. You listened to him, man. When she needed you the most, when her dad was sick, you bailed. She went through that whole thing alone. You didn’t show up, didn’t even check in on her.” Ony shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. “You’re a real…fuck-ass nii—”

He cleared his throat, almost laughing bitterly. “We’ve talked about this with you for years. Hell, you even got into it with her brother because of that same ‘friend’—the one you let threaten her. Your wife, bro! And now, you wanna act mad because she’s out having fun, living her life?”

Eren tried to brush it off, tried to hold onto that defensive anger, but each word chipped away at the front he’d put up. Ony leaned in, eyes sharp. “How do you plan to fix any of that, huh?”

Eren looked down, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table, Ony’s words echoing in his mind. “She met you when you had nothing, man. Look at your life now. She’s the one who was there, lifting you up, pushing you forward, making sure you had everything you needed. And how’d you repay her? By being a…a fuck-ass loser, gaming ‘til 3 a.m., blowing her off when she needed you the most.”

Eren clenched his jaw, the reality hitting him like a punch to the gut. He tried to keep his cool, but Ony wasn’t done.

“And now you’re saying you want her back? Now that she’s gone, you finally wanna try?” Ony’s voice softened, but the disappointment was clear. “Man, she’s out there living her life. You’re gonna have to do a hell of a lot more than just ‘want her back’ if you even think about being part of it again.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Eren muttered, struggling to find his footing. “I was dealing with a lot—”

Connie scoffed, shaking his head. “And you think she wasn’t? She married you, gave you a son, helped you get on your feet, twice. She was right there with you through everything. And what does she get? A husband who thinks she’s supposed to be grateful just ‘cause you didn’t cheat?”

Ony shook his head, his expression hardening. “Nah, man. You’re a full-on waste man. We’ve been your boys for years, telling you about this for years. But it’s like talking to a wall. You’re still friends with that toxic ass Elijah, aren’t you?”

Eren shifted uncomfortably, but Connie cut him off before he could respond.

“Did you even know he drove by your house talking wild about her when she was pregnant with Lenny?” Connie’s eyes bore into Eren’s, a rare mix of anger and disbelief on his face. “He was saying she’s gotta go, talking reckless, wishing her dead, man. And she told you about it, and what did you do? Took his side. You chose that trash over her, the woman carrying your son, the woman who’s been down for you from day one.”

Eren’s face darkened, guilt and anger mixing as he listened. He wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of his friends’ words left him speechless.

“Your own cousins had to step in to protect her,” Ony added, leaning back with a scoff. “And you? You did nothing. Didn’t even stand up for her. And now, here you are, mad that she’s finally out there living her life, trying to be happy. Man…fuck outta here with that.”

Eren swallowed hard, feeling the truth of every word, the silence that followed thick and suffocating. He could feel the resentment in the room—a long-standing frustration that had finally boiled over. And for the first time, Eren realized how far he’d let things slip away, and how much he’d lost in the process.

Eren leaned back in his chair, his hands running through his hair in frustration, his voice thick with regret. “Man,” he muttered, the weight of it all sinking in. “I messed up. I know I messed up. But… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Ony’s eyes narrowed, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. “Messed up? That’s an understatement, bro. How you gon’ be around a man who threatened your wife, huh? She wasn’t your ex-wife, not even your girl—your wife, man. How you gonna fix that?”

Eren opened his mouth to reply, but Ony wasn’t done. “You had a chance to protect her. To stand up for her. And you chose to do nothing. You don’t just get to walk back into her life like nothing happened.”

Connie leaned back, taking a swig of his drink, then sighed, shaking his head. “Ony, man, you’re wasting your breath. Look at him.” He gestured toward Eren, a sharp bitterness in his voice. “Eren cares about Eren. It’s obvious Y/N ain’t mean that much to him anyway.”

Eren’s chest tightened at Connie’s words, but he tried to defend himself. “She does, man, she—”

Ony cut him off with a harsh scoff, leaning forward. “E, tell it to someone who cares.” He let the silence sit for a moment before continuing. “You think you can fix this with a couple of ‘I’m sorry’s’? With a text, or showing up when it’s convenient for you? Nah, man. You’ve gotta do the work, and you didn’t.”

The sting of their words hit harder than anything physical, and Eren slumped back in his chair, the anger, regret, and frustration churning inside him. The realization that he had lost her—and possibly them—for good was something he wasn’t ready to accept. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure how to make things right. He wasn’t even sure where to start.

Connie’s words hit hard, slicing through the room like a cold wind. He sighed, his tone heavy with frustration. “Why do you even still hang with that man, bro? Did you ever love Y/N, or was she just convenient ‘cause she loved you when no one else did?”

Eren froze, unable to respond right away. The question hung in the air, burning like a brand. His mind raced, but all that came out was silence. He knew Connie was right—he had let Elijah stick around for way too long, even though he’d known for years that the guy was trouble. He’d always had issues letting go of things, of people. But now, hearing it out loud, it made him feel like a fool.

And then, just as the tension threatened to suffocate him, Eren laughed—bitterly, almost hysterically. "Y/N told me this would happen. That she'd leave. She told me everything...but I have to repay her for everything she did for me, man." His voice wavered, but he tried to hold onto some semblance of pride.

Ony didn't buy it. “Maybe you can repay her by letting her go, Eren. Stop holding on like this is something you can fix by force.”

Eren’s heart slammed against his chest, panic bubbling inside him. “I can’t do that, man. I love her,” he said firmly, almost pleading, as though saying it out loud would make it true.

Connie burst out laughing, the sound sharp and mocking. “You’re funny, man,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You love her? You’ve been so busy with everything else that you didn’t even see her. You can’t just love someone when it’s convenient, bro. Love is action, not words.”

Eren’s laugh faltered. It was like a cold splash of water, the reality sinking in. He could say all the right things, but he knew it didn’t matter if he didn’t change, if he didn’t prove it. He was losing her, and the regret was like an anchor weighing him down.

Ony’s voice was low and steady. “If you love her, you need to let her be. Let her have the space she needs to breathe again. You can’t fix what’s broken by holding onto it too tight.”

But Eren wasn’t ready to hear that. Not yet. Not when everything inside him screamed to fight for her, to make it right somehow.

“I’m not ready to let her go,” he muttered, the words feeling like a confession he wasn’t proud of. “But I don’t know how to make things right either.”

Slight time skip.

The weekend with Lennox passed by in a blur, each moment spent with his son pulling Eren deeper into the quiet realization of how much he had messed up. Lennox was so full of life, so innocent, and every laugh, every hug, every small gesture made Eren’s chest ache with regret. He watched the way his son looked at him, as if he was the most important person in the world, and it made him realize how much he had taken for granted.

You had given him everything. When he could barely afford to feed himself, you made sure he ate. You were the one who supported him when he had nothing, when his dreams were just that—dreams. You fed him, clothed him, and helped him build a life, and he had been too blind to see it. You took away all his burdens, but in return, it seemed like he had left you with nothing but more.

Later that night, after Lennox had fallen asleep in his room, Eren found himself scrolling through your Instagram. He tried not to, but his fingers betrayed him as they tapped on the screen, his eyes scanning through the pictures and videos from your night out. You looked happy. You looked free, laughing with friends, living a life that didn’t include him.

The pang of guilt hit him again. It stung more than he expected. You had always been beautiful, but now, in these pictures, it was different. You looked so alive, so at peace. And it hit him hard—you never really smiled with him. Not like that. The way you smiled in these photos, the way you were carefree and glowing, was something he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was as if all the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and for the first time in a long time, you were truly yourself again.

Eren’s heart twisted in his chest. He had been so focused on himself, on his struggles, that he hadn’t even noticed how much he had drained you. How much he had left you to carry on your own while he just kept taking.

The thought of how much he had messed up, how much he had hurt you, hit him like a ton of bricks. You had given him everything, and he had given you nothing in return—not even the basic decency of truly being there. He had let you go, and now you were living your life, and he was left with nothing but regret.

His finger hovered over the screen, a text message to you sitting in his drafts, but he couldn't bring himself to send it. The words seemed empty, not enough to fix what he had broken.

Eren sighed, setting the phone down on the counter. The weight of his mistakes hung heavy in the air, suffocating him.

Your POV

You hadn’t heard from Eren all weekend, and to be honest, you were kind of relieved. The quiet had been nice, but it wasn’t without its own weight. You missed your little boy, Lennox, more than you cared to admit. The house felt too empty without him running around, causing chaos, or asking you a thousand questions. It was strange, the silence.

You figured if you called his iPad, he’d ignore the call as usual—typical Lenny. You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes. “Bad ass kid,” you muttered under your breath, but the thought of him made you smile despite yourself.

With a sigh, you decided to call Eren directly instead. Maybe, just maybe, you could talk to him about Lennox’s day. It’s not like you expected any real conversation, but you knew Eren wouldn’t ignore you. He picked up after three rings.

His face appeared on the screen, and you could immediately tell he was exhausted. Dark circles were under his eyes, his hair a little disheveled, and his expression was heavy.

“What’s up with you? Lenny wear you out with his antics?” you asked, trying to sound lighthearted, but there was a softness to your tone, a mix of concern and amusement. “I told you, he’s a handful.”

Eren let out a tired sigh, rubbing his face. “Lemme guess,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. “You called his iPad and he ignored you?”

You snorted. “You know he’s bad. You really think he’s gonna pick up for me?”

Eren’s eyes flickered for a second, a small, tired grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “He gets that from you,” he said, the words almost too quiet, like a fleeting moment of honesty.

“Yeah, right,” you said with a sarcastic smile, but your voice softened. “Put my son on the phone. I miss my baby.”

Eren hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. Then, with a quiet exhale, he shifted his camera and called out to Lennox, his voice a little more gentle. "Lenny, come here, bud. Mommy’s on the phone."

You waited eagerly, your heart tightening in your chest as you saw Lennox’s little face pop up on the screen. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you, and his smile made everything feel right again, if only for a moment.

"Mommy!" he exclaimed, his tiny hands reaching for the screen. "I miss you!"

Your heart melted. "I miss you too, baby," you said, voice soft, a smile tugging at your lips. "How’s your weekend with Daddy?"

He started talking a mile a minute, telling you about his time with Eren, his adventures with his toys, and all the little things he’d been up to. It wasn’t much, but to you, it was everything. It was the little pieces of him that made you feel close, even if you couldn’t be there with him.

Eren watched the exchange quietly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to watch Lennox. There was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just tiredness, not just exhaustion—there was a depth there, a mix of regret and yearning that made your chest tighten. But for now, you pushed that aside, just grateful to see your son smiling, happy, and alive on the other side of the screen.

You listened intently as Lennox babbled on about his day, your heart swelling with every word. The way he spoke with such enthusiasm, like the world was his playground. It was one of those moments where, despite everything that had changed, you could still find a piece of normalcy in the way he talked about his little world.

"And then when I woke up, Daddy was talking to Unca Connie and Unca Ony about mommy," Lennox said, his voice full of innocence as he continued recounting his weekend.

Your smile faltered for a brief second, and you looked at Eren. His expression was unreadable, but the way he was holding the phone, the slight stiffening of his posture, made something stir inside you. You raised an eyebrow, a playful yet pointed look on your face. "Oh, really?" you asked, curiosity mixing with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yah," Lennox said matter-of-factly, not picking up on the weight in the conversation. "Apparently they made Daddy look really sad. But then I watched Coco Melon with Rummie and CJ."

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. "Coco Melon," you mused, "the cure for all things, huh?"

Eren didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the screen for a moment, his gaze briefly flicking between you and Lennox. You could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the conversation Lennox had just mentioned. It made your chest tighten a little, but you didn’t press it. Not yet, anyway.

Lennox, oblivious to the shift in the conversation, turned his attention to Eren with a sudden change of subject. "I want snacks, Daddy," he said, his voice demanding, just like any three-year-old who had a sudden craving.

Eren blinked, snapping back to the moment. He gave a small chuckle, the smile on his face genuine but tired. "Alright, alright, buddy," he said, his voice soft as he looked at his son. "I’ll get you something."

You could see the change in him when he looked at Lennox—his walls softening, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he focused on his son. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You were reminded of the man he used to be, the man you had fallen for, even if it felt like a lifetime ago.

"How about some fruit and crackers?" Eren offered, his voice light as he moved toward the kitchen, still holding the phone.

Lennox’s face lit up. "Yay!" he cheered, clapping his little hands.

You smiled fondly at the interaction, but your mind was still spinning from what Lennox had said earlier. Eren had been talking about you with Connie and Ony? You wondered what exactly they had said to him. What had made Eren so sad?

Before you could dwell too much on it, Lennox’s attention returned to you, his voice suddenly small. "Mommy, when can I come home?"

The question hit you unexpectedly. Your heart twisted, and you had to swallow the lump that formed in your throat. "Soon, baby," you said, keeping your voice steady, though your eyes felt a little warmer than usual. "You’ll be back with Mommy before you know it."

You caught Eren looking at you for a moment, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place. It was hard to tell if it was regret, guilt, or maybe just the weight of everything between you two. But for now, you held on to the moment, the quiet peace of seeing your son so happy.

Eren watched as Lennox dashed off toward the living room to grab his iPad, making zoom noises with each step, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. He sighed, leaning back against the counter as he rubbed his forehead. "I don't know where he gets all this energy from," he muttered, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips as he watched Lennox run off.

You didn't let him linger on the moment for long. You weren’t in the mood for small talk or pretending that everything was fine. Cutting straight to the heart of the matter, you asked, "You talking about me with Connie and Ony, Eren?"

His smile faltered, and his shoulders tensed. He didn’t look at you immediately, eyes flicking toward Lennox before finally settling on you. There was a moment of hesitation before he sighed again, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice almost too quiet. "They were... trying to talk some sense into me. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and they know it."

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion that surfaced at his words. Part of you was relieved that he wasn’t trying to dodge the question, but the rest of you felt a tightness in your chest. You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to snap, trying to keep your voice steady as you asked, "And what exactly did they say?"

Eren ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his posture. "They… they made me realize a lot of things I didn’t want to face. About us. About how I treated you." His gaze flickered toward the ground, as if he couldn’t quite look you in the eye as he said it. "I messed up, Y/N. I know I did. And I didn’t want to hear it from them, but... they’re right."

You took in a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "I’m not here to listen to your excuses, Eren," you said, your voice softer but firm. "I’m not some… I’m not some lesson to be learned from your friends. You had the chance to make it right a long time ago."

Eren nodded slowly, the weight of his regret sitting heavily between you both. "I know," he said, his voice low, like he was ashamed to say it aloud. "I didn’t show up when I should have. I was so caught up in myself, I didn’t see how much you were doing for me. For us. You were right... you deserved better than that."

The words hit you harder than you expected. There was so much history between you, so many moments you’d both buried under years of silence and unspoken resentment. But hearing him admit it, even just a little, stirred something in you—something that made you hesitate before responding.

"You don’t get to just fix it all with a few words, Eren," you said, your heart beating a little faster. "I’m not your savior anymore. You chose all this."

Eren’s eyes softened, guilt flooding his gaze. "I know, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I’m trying, Y/N. I really am. I’m not asking for you to come back, or anything like that. But I need to show you that I can be better, that I can do right by you and Lennox."

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, the weight of everything lingering in the space between your words. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but after everything that had happened, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late for that kind of redemption.

But then, as if to interrupt the tension in the room, Lennox came bounding back into the kitchen, holding up his iPad triumphantly. "I got it, Mommy!" he cheered.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, his energy pulling you out of the heavy silence. Eren’s gaze softened again as he watched Lennox, and for a brief second, you saw the man he used to be—the one who had cared, who had loved. The one who still wanted to do right by his son.

You exhaled slowly, giving him a small nod. "You’ve got a lot to prove, Eren. But for now, let’s just focus on him." You pointed to Lennox, who was eagerly awaiting your attention.

Eren nodded, his expression quiet but resolute. "I will. I promise."

You said your goodbyes to Eren and Lenny. Eren asked if he can keep Lennox longer, you said you will call him back later with an answer. you then called up your group.

You leaned back against the counter as you listened to the back-and-forth in your group chat. The sound of their voices was comforting, a small reminder that you weren’t going through this alone. But the frustration, the anger, that still lingered inside of you came to a head with Jaynae’s words.

Jaynae didn’t hold back, as always, but her words were sharp and right on target. "Eren is a fuck ass white boy..." she started, and you could hear the anger in her voice. "Like Y/N doesn't know. What has he done for Y/N really? Nothing, even now, he’s stressing her about how he cares now and shit... fuck him, and I’m saying that bold."

Solene quickly jumped in, trying to tone things down. "Jay, don’t say that. We’re all feeling this way, but you don’t need to be that harsh."

Reiner’s voice cut through the background, low and calm, as he spoke to his wife. "Babe, relax." You could hear the concern in his voice, but Jaynae wasn’t having it.

You stared at your phone for a moment, absorbing everything they said. The anger in their voices mirrored what you had been feeling for so long. But part of you didn’t want to hear it from them, even though you knew it was the truth. You knew it deep down. You were so tired of carrying the weight of Eren’s actions. So tired of forgiving him every time he came crawling back.

You spoke up, your voice steady but strained. "I didn’t want to tell you guys this, but Lennox said something tonight." You heard them go silent, waiting for you to continue. "He said that when Eren was talking to Connie and Ony, he sounded really sad, like he felt bad about everything. He said he was talking about me and how he messed up."

Kaylah was the first to respond, her voice soft but knowing. "So Eren finally gets it. Took him long enough."

Solene agreed with a sigh, adding, "Doesn’t matter, though. He doesn’t know how much you cried over his shit. How many nights you spent worrying about him, about the future of your family, while he was out there… just not caring."

You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to defend him—because, in a way, you always did—but the truth was, you couldn’t anymore. You had given him enough chances, let him back in more times than you cared to count, only for him to mess it up again.

Jaynae’s anger was palpable through the phone. "He doesn’t get to come back and act like he cares now. He fucked up. And I don’t care if he finally understands or not. It’s too little, too late." Her words hit you hard, but you knew she was right.

You felt a pang of guilt for not being able to protect yourself sooner, for not realizing how much damage had been done. You’d let him back into your life each time, hoping things would be different, but they never were.

Reiner’s voice cut through the chaos of emotions. "Babe, relax. We know you’re mad, but yelling isn’t going to fix it."

Jaynae let out a frustrated huff, but she seemed to take Reiner’s advice. "Fine. But Eren needs to hear this. He needs to know that this isn’t just about him feeling bad. It’s about the years of bullshit he put you through. The neglect. The selfishness."

You nodded, even though no one could see you. "Yeah. It’s about time he realized it, but I don’t know if I can just forgive him, even if he gets it now."

Kaylah’s voice was warm, understanding. "Don’t force yourself to, Y/N. You’ve done enough for him. It’s his turn to make things right, but you don’t owe him forgiveness if you’re not ready for it."

Solene agreed, adding, "You have to do what’s best for you and Lennox. Don’t let him back in unless you truly feel he’s worth it."

You felt a small bit of relief in their words. You weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to make this decision on your own. Your friends, your support system, were there, reminding you that you were allowed to be angry, to take time, and to protect yourself.

"I’ll call him back later," you said, finally. "But I don’t know what to tell him. I can’t just… go back to how things were. Not after everything."

Jaynae’s voice softened. "Do what you need to do, girl. We’ve got your back, no matter what."

You smiled slightly, feeling the weight of the support from your friends. Maybe you didn’t have to figure everything out tonight. Maybe you just needed time to breathe, to think, and to make sure that whatever decision you made, it would be the one that was right for you and Lennox.

For now, you just needed to focus on him, the only person who had been there for you through everything. And that was enough.

You sometime after the call to clean up the house, put away Lennox's toys and do a quick target run. your car was in the shop so you had to Uber there. Part of you with Lennox was here right now, he loved you guys' lil target runs. while picking up his lil snacks and stuff for yourself. You heard someone say, Mommy, you follow the voice to see Lennox running towards you and Eren not too far behind.

You stood there for a moment, the sight of Eren and Lennox in their matching sweat suits catching you off guard. The last thing you expected was to see Eren, out of the blue, walking toward you with a cart full of healthy snacks and juices for Lennox. You had come to Target for a quick run, and now you had to face him—looking tired, a little off, but still... there, with your son.

Lennox was practically bouncing with excitement, running up to you with a wide grin on his face. "Mommy!" he called out, his voice full of joy as he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs.

You bent down to hug him back, smiling despite the tension that was bubbling inside you. "Hey, baby," you said softly, trying to hide the little knot of unease that had started forming in your stomach. You glanced up at Eren, who was standing not far behind, pushing a cart of what looked like the same things you had in yours. Healthy snacks, juices... the usual, but with a few extras. The toy car was definitely a surprise.

Lennox pulled back from you, eyes sparkling as he tugged at your sleeve. "Daddy took me to get snacks, Mom, and a new toy car! I want a big one! Can I get a big one?" he said, excitement practically radiating off of him.

You glanced at the toy aisle in the distance, then back at Eren, who simply shrugged as if to say, "What can I do?" You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking, Where is he going to put that thing?

Eren gave you a tired smile, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked at you and then at Lennox, who was practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation. "Let’s get a smaller one for now, okay?" he said gently to Lennox, who immediately pouted but nodded his agreement.

Lennox’s little face scrunched up in disappointment, but he obeyed, knowing that once he got to pick something, it would be hard to say no to him.

Eren then looked over at you, his expression soft but tired. "Want me to take over for a bit? Just add the stuff in your cart to mine, and I’ll finish it up for you," he offered, his voice low but calm.

For a moment, you hesitated. Part of you wanted to refuse, wanting to maintain your independence, but then you saw the exhaustion in his face. You couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of sympathy for him, despite everything. He looked like he was trying, but... was he really?

You glanced at your cart, the small stack of things you had grabbed already, and then back at Lennox, who was happily distracted by a row of toy cars. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let him help for once, especially when you had your hands full with so much already.

"Fine," you said, keeping your tone neutral, but there was something in the way you said it that made Eren pause for just a second. You added the items in your cart to his, keeping your gaze on Lennox as he fidgeted and glanced between the two of you. "Just don’t go overboard with the snacks this time, okay?" You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

Eren nodded, pushing the cart a little closer to yours. "I won’t," he promised, though his voice held a hint of the same weariness that was obvious in his posture.

It felt odd—standing here with him in Target, talking about mundane things like toys and snacks when just the other day you could barely stand being in the same room with him. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was an attempt, some small sign that he was trying to make things right. But was it enough? Was he enough?

You couldn’t let your guard down just yet, even if you wanted to.

You and eren walked through the aisles, picking up stuff for your son's and your respective houses. You paused for a moment as Eren casually placed another item in the cart without asking, his fingers brushing yours ever so slightly. The simple gesture brought a flood of mixed emotions that you quickly shoved down. You'd been trying to keep your distance from him, both physically and emotionally, but somehow—here you were. Walking the aisles of Target with him, the man who had been a stranger in your life not so long ago, doing things for you without hesitation, like it was just another day in the world you used to share.

You gave him a sideways glance. "You don’t have to do that. I can handle my own, you know?" you said softly, though you didn’t move to take the item out of the cart.

He didn’t look at you right away, but his voice was low and steady when he responded. "I know you can, babe...Y/N...but just… let me, okay?"

The way he said your name, soft but insistent, made something in your chest tighten. You didn’t respond right away. Part of you wanted to insist on doing everything yourself, as you always had. But another part of you—something deep down—wanted to let him help. To let him in. To stop carrying the weight of everything all on your own.

Before you could process any more of that, you heard Lennox laughing and shouting as he ran ahead of you both, waving snacks in his tiny hands at strangers and telling them, "Hi!" like they were his best friends.

"Hey!" you called after him, but it was no use. He was already off, running toward the next group of people to share his little treats with. You couldn’t help but smile, even though you were mentally trying to corral him from a distance.

Eren watched him for a moment before turning to you, his gaze more serious now, and you could feel the weight of what he was about to say. "You’re doing a great job with him," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You know that, right?"

You paused, trying not to let the compliment make you feel anything more than what it was—just words. But it still hit you in a way you didn’t expect. You’d been doing everything for Lennox on your own for so long, putting in the work and making sure he was always taken care of, even when it felt like you were running on empty. To hear it from him—it was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"Thanks," you said quietly, your eyes briefly meeting his. "It’s not easy, but I try. He’s worth it."

Eren didn’t reply right away, but you saw the look in his eyes—a mix of regret, pride, and maybe even something else you couldn’t place. The whole situation felt surreal. Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to understand the weight of everything you’d been carrying.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts, Lennox came running back, face lit up with excitement as he tugged on your sleeve. "Mommy! Mommy! I want this one!" He showed you a toy car, the same one he'd pointed out earlier.

You smiled at your son’s enthusiasm, even as you glanced at Eren, who was still standing beside you, silently watching the exchange. You could almost feel his presence like a quiet support, as if he was trying to be part of this moment with you. Trying to fix things, even if it was just in little ways.

"Alright, Lenny," you said, leaning down to his level. "Let’s grab it and then we can get going. Daddy and I still have some shopping to finish."

Eren’s voice cut through before you could get back up. "Let me take care of the toy. You grab the rest."

You met his eyes again, studying his face for any hint of insincerity, but there was nothing there. Just that tired, yet genuine look.

After a moment, you gave in, nodding. "Okay."

It wasn’t about the toy. It wasn’t about the groceries. It was about this—this moment where you were both trying to figure out what came next. Trying, in your ways, to make things work for Lennox. Maybe, just maybe, it was enough for now.

You were finally up at the register, you went to tell the cashier to pass you a divider to separate your items and Eren stopped you and paid and handled everything.

 Eren pushed the cart out with Lenny sitting it looking a lil sleepy. 

Eren asked 'Where are you parked."

 "My car is in the shop." 

Eren sighed. Lemme drop you home then "Eren it's fine I'll call an uber." Eren eyed you up and down and put all the items in the car while strapping Lennox in the car seat "Just get in yn...please"

You hesitated, your hand still hovering over your phone to call an Uber, but the look Eren gave you made you pause. His expression was somewhere between pleading and frustration, like he didn’t want to leave you to handle everything on your own. You could feel the weight of the moment—his insistence, the tension between you two that had never really gone away, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself.

You looked down at Lennox, who was already half-asleep in the cart, his little head drooping as he fought to stay awake. You knew you’d have to carry him from the cart to the car anyway, so maybe it would be easier just to let Eren drop you off.

"Please, Y/N," Eren repeated, his voice quieter now. "Just get in. I’m not trying to do anything. I just want to make sure you and Lenny get home safe."

His words caught you off guard, but there was sincerity in them. You could see it in the way he was carefully placing the bags in the trunk and strapping Lennox into the car seat, like he was trying to make up for everything that had happened.

You sighed, feeling a mix of exhaustion and confusion. The old part of you—the part that used to rely on him—wanted to say yes, wanted to just accept his help. But there was still that wall between you, that part of you that had been hurt too many times to let go easily.

"I don’t need you to do this, Eren," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I can handle it on my own."

Eren stood up, closing the trunk, and gave you a look that was almost... sad. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he spoke again, this time more quietly. "I know you can. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help, Y/N. Let me do this."

You glanced at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was exhaustion and... maybe regret? You didn't know if it was enough to make you let go of your pride, but you could tell he wasn’t going to push any further.

With a sigh, you gave in, finally nodding. "Fine."

Eren’s face softened, relief flashing across his features, but he didn’t say anything more. He simply opened the passenger door for you and waited, stepping aside to let you in.

You climbed in, shutting the door behind you, and Eren quickly got in on the other side. As he started the car, the familiar hum of the engine filling the space between you, he didn’t say anything for a while. He seemed focused on the road, both hands gripping the wheel, his jaw tight as though he was holding something back.

Lennox was still half-conscious in the backseat, his little voice murmuring softly as he tried to stay awake. The car was quiet except for the sound of the road and your son's occasional mumble, but the silence between you and Eren felt different this time. Less cold, maybe even a little softer.

You couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything—the past, the present, the things left unsaid. But for now, you let it go, and for the first time in a long while, you just allowed yourself to be in this moment.

Eren's pov 

She fell asleep in the passenger seat of my car. I took out my phone and took a picture of her then one of Lennox passed out in the back seat. I felt terrible.

While I was out there acting like yn didn't mean anything to me, putting fake friends above her. All she ever did was love me and try to learn to love me when I didn't love myself. 

Eren’s heart tightened in his chest as he stared at the photos on his phone. He didn’t care that it felt wrong to snap the pictures without her knowing—he had to see it. He had to remind himself of what he lost, of the love that had once been so constant in his life and now felt like a distant memory. The photo of Y/N, peaceful in the passenger seat, her hair falling across her face as she slept, made the guilt burn in his stomach. She looked so... content—something he hadn't given her in so long.

He stared at Lennox in the rearview mirror. His son, just like him, already fighting sleep, but the exhaustion won out. The sight of Lennox sleeping soundly made the pain cut even deeper. He wasn’t just hurting Y/N; he was hurting their son. Their family.

This is what I lost.

The words echoed in his mind, over and over, until they burned into his skull. He’d made a mess of everything. While he had been out there, pretending he didn’t need her, letting people like Elijah cloud his judgment and get in his head, Y/N had been there—always there. Loving him in the way that only she could. And what did he do? He pushed her away, took her for granted, chose everything and everyone else over her, and watched her slowly break apart.

What did she even see in him? What kind of man was he, that he let something so real slip away?

He turned the wheel, taking the turn toward her house, his fingers gripping the wheel with a mixture of desperation and regret. He didn’t know what else to do, or what to say. Words felt useless now. He had to show her, somehow, that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. If she’d even let him.

But the thought of her moving on without him, of him being just another chapter in her past, gnawed at him. He hated it. The thought of her smiling, truly smiling, with someone else—someone who could love her the way she deserved—was unbearable.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and he forced the thoughts away.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

He glanced over at Y/N, still asleep beside him, her breathing slow and steady. She had always been so strong—too strong for her own good. He didn’t deserve her, but he wasn’t going to let her go without fighting for her. This time, he wasn’t going to fuck it up. This time, he was going to show her that he saw her. That he valued her. That he loved her.

It was time to stop being the man who kept running away from his own feelings. It was time to be the man who could fight for the woman he loved.

The woman he still loved.

Your pov

He woke you up gently, letting me know he was here, his voice soft enough not to wake Lennox. You watched as he unstrapped Lenny from his car seat, carefully lifting him into his arms, his hands steady as he held our son close. He carried him inside with that effortless ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world, then went back out to bring in the bags.

You took Lenny to his room, and got him ready for bed, tucking him in and whispering a goodnight before slipping back out. When you returned to the living room, Eren was busy unpacking the bags, putting away all the things we’d picked out at Target, as if this was still his home too. The quiet between us was heavy, and you found myself glancing over, wondering what was going through his mind.

“About the stuff you were gonna take for Lenny,” you said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, barely looking up. “I’m good for it. Just wanna make sure things are straight here first.”

you nodded, taking in his familiar expression, the hint of something behind those tired eyes. “Thanks, Eren.”

He paused, his gaze finally meeting mine. “Y/N… can we talk? Like, for real?”

His voice held a rawness you hadn’t heard in a long time.

Part of you wanted to tell him to leave, to protect yourself from whatever promises or apologies he had for you now. But another part—the part that still felt the sting of lost years and wasted dreams—was curious. Maybe, after all this time, he had something real to say.

"Alright," you finally said, folding your arms and leaning against the kitchen counter as he finished putting the last few items away.

He turned to face you, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking more like a man on the verge of spilling his soul than the self-assured Eren you once knew. “I know I messed up,” he started, his eyes finding yours with a mix of remorse and determination. “I didn’t just mess up... I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You stayed quiet, letting him get it out, though the words struck a chord.

“I took you for granted, Y/N. I was so focused on everything else—the guys, the business, my own pride—hell, I don’t even know what I was so focused on half the time. And the worst part? You were the one constant, the one person who showed up, who never quit, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away like he was ashamed. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. I know it doesn’t work like that. But... I need you to know that I see it now. I see what I did to you, and it eats me up inside.”

A lump formed in your throat as you looked at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. You’d waited so long to hear something like this from him, but now that he was finally saying it, it was almost too much.

He continued, “I’m trying to be better. For Lennox... and for you. Even if we never go back to the way things were, I need you to know that. And if I can ever make things right, if there’s ever anything you need, I’ll be there. I swear, I’ll be there.”

You took a shaky breath, glancing at the man in front of you—the man who, for the first time in a long time, seemed honest. Vulnerable. And maybe even a little lost.

“Eren…” you started, choosing your words carefully. “I needed this... a long time ago. I don’t know if I can ever forget the things we went through, and I don’t know if it’ll ever feel the same.”

He nodded, his expression a mixture of regret and understanding. “I know. I don’t expect you to. I just—thank you for hearing me out.”

There was a silence between you, filled with all the words you couldn’t say, all the apologies he could never fully express.

As Eren moved to leave, you felt something stir inside you, a mixture of anger and longing that you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Eren, wait,” you said sharply, and he froze, hand on the doorknob. He turned back, eyes searching your face with a glimmer of hope. “Stay,” you said, your voice softer this time. “I mean… for Lennox. He’d probably want you here when he wakes up.”

He hesitated, clearly surprised, but you saw the flicker of relief flash across his face. Eren nodded slowly, stepping away from the door and back into the room.

You crossed your arms, not fully ready to let your guard down. “Don’t think this changes anything,” you said, unable to stop yourself from letting the bitterness show. “This… confession or apology or whatever this is. You don’t get to just walk back in here like nothing happened.”

“I know that, Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, especially not from you.”

You laughed, though there was no humor in it. “You think an apology can undo years of you putting everyone else before me? Making me feel like a fool for sticking by you?”

His jaw clenched, eyes hardening. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for it? I’m here because I want to make things right, not pretend that I didn’t screw everything up.”

You stepped closer, the tension between you sparking like electricity. “But you didn’t care when it mattered, did you, Eren? When I was crying, begging you to put us first—you were out there, with your boys or with some leech of a friend. And now, after all this time, you want to feel bad?”

Eren’s face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You don’t think I know what I did?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You don’t think I see it every time I look at you and realize that I lost the only person who ever gave a damn about me? I know I’m too late—I just can’t sit here and do nothing about it.”

You let out a shaky breath, the anger warring with an ache that had never fully left you. “You say that now, but it’s easy to regret it all when you’ve already lost. It’s too late to go back, Eren. You can’t just show up now and act like you’re some savior.”

He took a step forward, closing the space between you, his eyes intense, filled with something raw. “You don’t think I know I’m too late? I’m just trying, for once in my life, to do the right thing. Even if you hate me.”

Your chest tightened as he looked at you like that, with a fire in his gaze that was so familiar, so maddening. His presence filled the room, suffocating yet strangely comforting, a reminder of all the nights you spent hoping he’d say these words.

“I should hate you,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I should hate you for all the ways you hurt me. And yet…”

He held your gaze, his expression shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. “And yet… what?”

You shook your head, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill. “I don’t even know anymore, Eren. Part of me wants to push you out and never see you again, and part of me…”

You trailed off, feeling foolish, but Eren’s hand reached out, brushing against your arm. The touch sent a jolt through you, reigniting emotions you’d tried to bury. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and you felt a pang of the old connection that had once been your everything.

“If there’s any part of you that doesn’t want me gone,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “then let me try. Even if it’s just for Lennox.”

You searched his face, torn between the anger, the hurt, and the memories. “Fine,” you said finally, voice thick with emotion. “You can stay tonight. But don’t think this is some invitation to waltz back into my life like nothing happened. You have to earn every bit of my trust back, and right now, you’re starting from nothing.”

Eren nodded, a glimmer of relief crossing his face. “I’ll take it,” he said softly, as if he knew the magnitude of what you’d just allowed.

You turned away, heading towards your room with one last look over your shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable,” you said, voice steadier than you felt. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

It was 1 a.m., and sleep just wouldn’t come. You slipped out of bed and made your way downstairs, hoping maybe a glass of water or the stillness of the night would bring some calm. When you reached the back porch, you spotted Eren outside, sitting alone, his silhouette softened by the dim glow of his cigarette. You watched for a moment, noticing his lips moving, unsure if he was on the phone or just talking to himself.

“Man, I don’t know if I can handle this,” you heard him murmur, his voice barely cutting through the quiet night air. “I know I deserve this, but… I really love her.”

And then another voice came through the line—a voice you recognized all too well: Elijah.

“For what, her?” Elijah scoffed, his tone dripping with venom. “I been told you she ain’t no good. Her and her whole fuck-ass family. You think it’s her that’s got you where you’re at? It’s all you, man. She divorced you, took half of what you worked for, and you didn’t even want children in the first place.”

You stayed quiet, pulse quickening, curiosity and a hint of hurt holding you in place. You wanted to hear Eren’s response—needed to.

Eren sighed, his voice quieter, wearier. “Why you hate her so much, man?”

“‘Cause she ain’t shit, bro,” Elijah snapped, a hint of anger and arrogance. “She’s useless, ain’t ever taken care of you, ain’t no good.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. Eren’s jaw clenched, his profile shadowed but strong. His reply cut through the tension.

“This is why I was tryna keep my distance from you.”

Elijah cursed, his voice harsh and biting, words meant to tear at Eren’s resolve. But Eren didn’t respond. His grip tightened on the phone before he muttered, “I’m good, man,” and hung up, letting the phone drop beside him. He leaned back, took another long drag from his cigarette, eyes lost somewhere in the distance, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his shoulders.

You stood there, unseen but unable to ignore the quiet intensity of the scene, a small crack of light on the depth of Eren’s struggle… and maybe something else.

You watched him quietly from the shadows, your heart pounding at what you’d just heard. Eren seemed worn down, his shoulders slumped as he took a long drag, staring out into the night. You didn’t know whether to feel vindicated, hurt, or relieved—maybe all of it at once. You’d suspected for a long time that Elijah was one of the reasons behind Eren’s distance, but to hear it confirmed felt like reopening an old wound.

After a few moments, Eren seemed to notice your presence. He turned, his eyes widening slightly before settling into a tired look, one you recognized as the same mix of shame and frustration that always appeared when he was forced to confront the mess he’d created.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, trying for a casual tone, though he seemed to sense there was no use in pretending.

You shrugged, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “Funny, I could say the same about you. Heard enough to know I was right about him.”

Eren exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping as he stubbed out the cigarette. “You don’t need to worry about Eli. I… I’m done with him.” He sounded as though he was convincing himself as much as you.

“Eren,” you began, searching for the words. “You kept him around for years, even when I told you what he’d been saying, even when you knew what he thought of me.” The words felt heavy as they left your lips, carrying the weight of all the nights you’d tried to explain why it hurt you that he valued Eli’s word so much.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And I should have listened to you. Hell, I should have seen it myself. I was so wrapped up in trying to hang onto everything… my friends, my pride, my independence, that I didn’t realize what I was letting go of until it was too late.” He paused, his voice softening. “And now, it’s you I’m trying to hang onto.”

You crossed your arms tighter, steeling yourself. “Words don’t mean much, Eren. Not anymore.”

He looked at you with a kind of desperation that made your resolve waver, just slightly. “I know they don’t. But I need you to know that it’s not just words. I’ve been cutting off people who aren’t any good for me. I want to be better for Lennox… and for you, if there’s even a chance I could earn that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep your composure. “It’s going to take more than just getting rid of people, Eren. You’ve hurt me in ways I can’t just forget.”

He looked down, guilt flashing across his face. “I know. And if that means we never get back together, then… then I have to live with that. But I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and charged, as you watched him, conflicted. His words sounded real, but the years of broken promises made it hard to trust anything he said. Still, the vulnerability in his eyes made it hard to turn away.

You finally nodded. “Then prove it. Not just to me, but to Lennox. Show me that this isn’t just another empty promise.”

Eren stubbed out his cigarette, his gaze softening as he noticed you by the doorway. Without a word, he reached over, taking your hand and pulling you gently onto his lap. You could feel the warmth of his embrace and the lingering scent of smoke as he held you close, his chest rising and falling beneath you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was scared to let go.

The weight of his words, his touch—it all felt like it was tugging you back into memories you’d tried to bury. His breath was warm against your neck as he murmured, “I remember you picking out the colours for every room, saying how you wanted a place Lennox could run around in, how you pictured us… growing old here. I couldn’t see it then, but I can now.”

You shifted slightly, feeling a pang in your chest. “Eren… we’re not the same people we were back then. You say you love me now, but where was that love when I needed it most?”

He pulled you closer, his voice thick. “I know I can’t make up for all the ways I failed you, but I’m asking for a chance to be better. To give you the love you deserved from the start.”

You wanted to keep your resolve, to remind him that you weren’t someone he could just pull close when it suited him. But the way he held you, the sincerity in his voice—it was everything you’d wanted to hear, but it also reminded you of every hurtful memory, every time you’d felt alone in a house that should have been filled with love.

“You think it’s that simple?” you whispered, half-pleading, half-defiant, trying to keep from giving in completely.

“No. It’s not simple. It’s going to take time, and I know you might never forgive me fully. But if there’s even a small part of you that still wants me, that still remembers why we fell in love in the first place… then let me show you. Let me prove I’m not that selfish guy who didn’t appreciate you.” He looked into your eyes, his hand brushing a stray hair from your face. “Please, let me stay… for you and Lennox.”

The weight of his words lingered, stirring up feelings you weren’t ready to face. But with his arms around you, it felt, for just a moment, like maybe things could be different.

You sighed, a mixture of frustration and longing swirling inside you. Maybe it was a mistake—one that would pull you back into the hurt and anger you’d worked so hard to get past. But as you looked into his eyes, so filled with regret and something that almost felt like hope, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You looked away, not wanting him to see the vulnerability you’d just let slip. “But don’t think this is a reset. Things can’t just go back to how they were.”

Eren’s grip on you tightened, and you could feel the relief in his touch. “I know. I don’t want things to be the way they were. I want them to be better. I want to… earn this. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

You held his gaze, seeing a glimmer of the Eren you’d fallen for—the one who’d been lost to pride, mistakes, and years of neglect. It felt like standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure would hold, but a part of you, buried beneath the hurt, was curious enough to see if it could.

“Just… don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your ear, steady but strong.

Eren leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t. Not this time.”

As you sat together, the silence between you felt both familiar and new, like the beginning of something unsteady but hopeful.

Eren’s lips brushed against yours, gentle at first, testing boundaries, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away. The kiss was soft, slow, filled with an ache you hadn’t felt in ages, like he was searching for something in you he’d lost a long time ago.

His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the hesitation in him, the desperation, and yet… you let yourself get lost in it, sinking into the warmth of him, the familiarity of his touch that still managed to feel brand new.

His other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer. It was like he was afraid to let go, like he knew this moment was fragile, and he didn’t want to shatter it. You could feel his heart pounding against yours, each beat reminding you of what you’d once shared—and the pain that had come with it.

You broke away, just slightly, catching your breath, looking up at him. His eyes were heavy with emotion, raw, and for a second, you saw the vulnerability he’d kept hidden for so long.

“Eren,” you whispered, barely able to say his name, feeling the weight of everything it meant.

“I’m not gonna mess this up again,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with certainty. He searched your face, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Eren kissed you again this time picking you up and carrying you to your bed, the one you shared with him. Eren looked around the room for a moment “You didn’t change anything in here much.

You laughed “Nah, I liked the decor.”

Eren slowly pulled your pants down your legs, drinking in the sight of your bare skin with hungry eyes. He nudged your thighs further apart, settling between them like a man starved.

"Baby, please," he rasped, voice raw with desperation. "I need you back. Need to feel you again, all of you."

He lowered his head, tongue flicking out to taste your slick folds. Eren groaned at the first intimate brush of your essence on his tongue, the flavour igniting something primal deep within him. He lapped at your feverishly, delving deep with each broad stroke.

"Fuck, you taste divine," Eren gasped, mouth glistening with your arousal. "Missed this sweet cunt, missed hearing you scream on my tongue."

He sealed his lips around your clit, suckling the sensitive bud. His fingers joined in the assault, pumping in and out of your dripping channel in tandem with the thrusts of his tongue.

"Take me back, love," Eren pleaded, the words muffled against your skin. "Let me worship this pussy, fucking ruin you for anyone else."

He added a third finger, stretching your wide, feeling your walls begin to flutter around the intrusion. Eren knew you were close, could taste your impending release, and he doubled his efforts.

"Cum for me, baby," he commanded, voice a low growl. "Let go and fucking drench my face."

Eren sealed his mouth over yours again, tongue delving deep, fingers curling just right. He could feel the telltale tremble in your thighs, the sharp inhale

Fuck Daddy Ouu..Right there, you groaned.

Eren groaned against your heated flesh as you cried out for him, your thighs trembling on either side of his head. He could feel you getting closer and closer to the edge with each stroke of his tongue, each pump of his fingers.

"That's it, baby," he rasped, words muffled against your soaked folds. "Let go, cum all over Daddy's face."

your hands flew to Eren's hair, fisting the brown strands as he relentlessly worked you with his mouth and fingers. your body began to quake, back arching off the bed as your release crashed over you in waves.

"F-Fuck, Eren!" you wailed, hips bucking wildly against him. Eren held you down, keeping his mouth firmly in place to catch every drop of your essence. He lapped up your release greedily, the taste and sound of her pleasure shooting straight to his aching cock.

As your tremors began to subside, Eren pulled back, licking his lips in satisfaction. He crawled up your body, hovering over you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"Mm, delicious as always," he purred, grinding his still-clothed erection against your sensitive clit. "But I'm not done with you yet, baby girl. Still need to feel this tight little cunt wrapped around my cock."

Without warning, Eren sat back on his heels and yanked his pants down, freeing his straining dick. In a quick movement, he flipped you onto her stomach and lifted your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," Eren groaned, catching a glimpse of her swollen glistening clit as he positioned himself behind her. 

The sight of your delicate, wet folds, still flushed and slick from your recent orgasm, made his mouth water. He had to taste her again, had to feel her come undone on his tongue again.  

"Shh, relax baby," Eren cooed, his breath ghosting over your heated skin. "Gonna make you feel so fucking good."  With that, he dipped his head, extending his tongue to lap at your tender bud. Your sharp inhale was music to his ears as he started to work you over with long, broad strokes. 

He alternated between fast flicks and slow, deliberate licks, teasing you mercilessly.  "That's it, let me hear those pretty little moans," Eren encouraged, one hand reaching up to pinch and roll a pert nipple. "Gonna suck this clit, make you ride my face until you're seeing stars."  He sealed his lips around the sensitive nub, suckling gently before grazing it with his teeth. 

At the same time, he slipped two fingers into your dripping channel, pumping them in time with the thrusts of his tongue. 

 Your hands flew to the sheets, gripping them tightly as Eren relentlessly stimulated yourr most intimate places. Your thighs began to tremble, a telltale sign of your impending climax.  "Cum for me, baby," Eren demanded, voice low and authoritative. "Coat my tongue with your cum. Let me drink you down like a good boy."

Your body convulsed as another orgasm ripped through her, her inner walls clamping down around Eren’s fingers as she came undone on his tongue. He lapped up her release greedily, swallowing every drop of her essence with a low groan of appreciation.

As her tremors began to subside, Eren slowly withdrew his fingers from her needy cunt. He crept up her body, pushing your braids to one side to press open-mouthed kisses along the column of your sweat-slicked neck.

"Thank you, baby," he rasped against her skin, voice rough with emotion. "For giving me another chance to show you how much I need you, how much I fucking love you."

Eren felt his thick cock poised at her entrance, the blunt head nudging insistently against her swollen folds. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, Eren sheathed himself fully inside her, stretching her deliciously.

"Shit, you feel incredible," he groaned, hips rolling into yours. "Love being buried in this perfect pussy."

You whimpered, trying to rock your hips back to meet his slow, deliberate thrusts. But Eren held you firmly in place, using his weight to pin you down.

"Ah ah," he tutted, delivering a sharp smack to her ass. "Patience, baby. Gonna take my time with you, make this last."

You keened, the edge of frustration, "Please, Eren," she begged, "I need it harder, faster. Fuck me like you mean it!"

"No, not yet," Eren refused, voice a low growl. "Gonna make love to you first. Gonna make this last, take my time worshipping this gorgeous body."

He dipped his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your whimpers of frustration. One hand slid up to cup your breast, fingers toying with a pebbled nipple.

"Relax, love," Eren murmured against her mouth. "Let me make you feel good. Wanna savour every inch of you."

He pulled back slightly, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, skin glistening with sweat and hair mussed. The visual alone nearly undid him. Slowly, torturously, Eren rocked into your welcoming heat, each leisurely thrust burying himself to the hilt. He groaned low in his throat at the exquisite drag of your inner walls along his sensitive length.

"Fuck, baby," he rasped, dropping his forehead to hers. "You feel so damn good. Could stay buried in this sweet cunt forever."

Eren's hands roamed your body as he continued his steady, unhurried pace - mapping the dips and curves of your waist, gripping your hips to pull her flush against him. His thrusts remained deep and measured, stoking the embers of pleasure in your core.

"Gonna make you beg for it," Eren promised darkly, a smug smile curving his lips. "Wanna hear you plead for Daddy's cock, for me to fill this needy little pussy up."

Eren's voice was a low, demanding rumble in your ear. "That's it, baby. Beg for me like you had me begging for you to take me back. Let me hear how much you need this cock, how much you need me."

He pulled her hips flush against him, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each deep, deliberate thrust. The friction was maddening, stoking the fire in her veins.

You couldn't hold back, not with the way Eren was touching her, not with the way he was filling you so perfectly. "Please, Eren," you whimpered, your voice cracking with need. "I need you. I need your cock, need you to fuck me harder. Please, Daddy, I'm begging you. Take me, use me, make me yours. Fuck me like you'll never let me go."

All you cared about was the feeling of him buried deep inside you, the promise of release hovering just out of reach.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. "Fuck, baby, listen to you. So desperate for Daddy's cock. Such a good girl, coming undone on my dick."

He shifted the angle of his thrusts, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every drive of his hips. Your moans grew louder, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him desperately.

"That's it, cum for me," Eren rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Cum all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking desperate for it," Eren growled, his voice a guttural rasp. "Need Daddy's cock splitting you open, don't you? Need me to fill you up until you're fucking drowning in it."

He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting that sweet spot inside her that had you seeing stars. Your inner walls clenched around him, fluttering and grasping as if trying to pull him even deeper.

"Gonna make you cum so hard," Eren promised darkly, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each stroke. "Gonna flood this pussy, mark you from the inside out. Let everyone know who you belong to."

He leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your needy whimpers and moans. you clung to him, nails raking down his back, leaving red welts in their wake.

"Do it," you gasped out, your voice raw and desperate. "Fill me up, make me yours. Fucking breed me, Eren."

The words seemed to snap something inside him, and Eren reared back, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The headboard slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the bed creaking in protest beneath them.

"Fuck, baby, gonna - shit, I'm gonna - " Eren's words cut off with a strangled groan as his climax hit him like a freight train. His cock jerked as his release overtook him. Thick, hot spurts of his seed filled your spasming cunt, marking you from the inside out. Your orgasm followed shortly after, your inner walls milking him for every last drop.

"Fuck, baby," Eren panted, his hips still twitching with aftershocks. "You're so fucking perfect, taking everything I give you."

He collapsed on top of you, blanketing your smaller form with his larger one. For a moment, they simply lay there, catching their breath as the afterglow washed over them.

Slowly, Eren pulled out, his softening cock slipping free from your well-used cunt. He immediately felt the loss, the emptiness that came with not being connected to you.

With gentle hands, he rolled you onto your back, gathering you close. Eren nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the sweat-slicked skin.

"I love you," he murmured, the words a raw confession. "Love you so fucking much, baby. Gonna spend the rest of my life proving it to you if you'll let me."

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his green eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was love, trust, and a tentative hope.

[swappermanent]

Reverse Inheritance

The first time Leo told me he could astral project, I didn't think much of it. My grandson had been living with me ever since his father—my son—went to prison, and though he was 20n now, he still had that same wild imagination he'd had as a kid.

Just last month, he'd been on about reincarnation, saying he remembered fragments of past lives. And before that, he was convinced our neighbor was running a smuggling ring out of his garage. Normally, I didn’t mind letting him ramble on. But lately, I was starting to get a bit tired of it.

Today, however, Leo seemed particularly insistent. “I’m serious, Grandpa. I can do it. Astral projection. It’s real.”

I scoffed. "Alright, then. Let’s do a little experiment."

"Sure, what kind of experiment?"

I reached over to a drawer and pulled out an old deck of cards, shuffling them a couple of times until I was satisfied. I fanned the cards out, then carefully picked one from the middle, holding it up so only I could see. “If you’re telling the truth, you should be able to ~float out of your body~ and go behind me to tell me what this card is,” I challenged, leaning back.

Leo took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His breathing slowed, his shoulders relaxing in a way I’d never seen before. For a second, I actually thought he might’ve fallen asleep. But then, with his eyes still closed, he whispered, “Eight of spades.”

I froze.  Placing the card face up on the table—the eight of spades.

I forced a laugh. “Lucky guess. Let’s go again.”

Leo gave a small shrug and smirked. “Alright. Let’s.”

I shuffled the deck again, this time picking a card off the top. “Alright, wise guy,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “What is it?”

He closed his eyes again, barely a few seconds this time. “Three of hearts.”

I looked down at the card, and my stomach did a small flip. “Alright,” I said, trying to mask my surprise. “That was another good guess, I’ll give you that. Let’s see if you’re really up to it.”

This time, I picked three cards at once, spreading them face down on the table. “No way you’re getting all of these right,” I muttered, almost to myself.

But a few seconds later, He rattled them off without a second thought. “Queen of diamonds, five of clubs, ace of spades.”

I looked at each card in my hand, and they were all correct. My jaw dropped, and I couldn’t hide it. “Shit… wow,” I breathed. “Alright, kid, you got me. I believe you.”

Leo’s eyes opened, and he gave me a small, satisfied smile. “You want me to teach you how?”

My heart was pounding a little faster than usual. “You think I could?” I asked, half-joking but more curious than I wanted to let on.

Leo leaned forward, his face serious. “Yeah. But you have to really want to do it. Like, let go of everything. All those thoughts that keep you grounded here.”

"Let go of everything…" I repeated.

---

Over the next few weeks, Leo patiently taught me to master astral projection. At first, it felt like some sort of strange meditation. But gradually, I learned how to slip out of my physical body, just as Leo did, until I could stand beside myself, looking down at the slouched figure.

Each session, Leo and I would push the boundaries a little more. We couldn’t go too far since our astral projections only seemed to last about four hours at a time, and even then, we couldn’t travel much faster than a brisk jog. But I was fine with that; I wasn’t interested in dashing across the city, only in seeing how far I could push this strange new freedom.

When we’d reach the end of our limit and weren’t back in our bodies yet, something bizarre would happen. Our astral selves would start to get get pulled back, as if our bodies had a magnetic force calling us home. Those first few times, it was disorienting, hurtling back through space until I snapped back into my skin, breathless, my heart pounding. Leo explained that it was the body’s way of keeping us tethered, that if we stayed out too long, our astral forms would dissipate like smoke, and we’d cease to exist.

“Cease to exist?” I asked him one night, feeling the weight of that warning.

Leo nodded, his face solemn. “I haven’t pushed it that far, Grandpa. And I don’t think we should. The pull back gets stronger the closer we get to that limit. But if we ignore it…” He shrugged, letting the words hang in the air, dark and final.

Still, despite the risk, I found myself craving these nightly adventures. For the first time in years, I felt alive, truly alive. As someone who’d all but resigned myself to the slow, tired rhythms of old age, it was thrilling. But as our nights stretched on, I started to wonder about Leo’s fascination with this skill. He was young; he didn’t have a curfew, he didn’t have an old, weary body holding him back. He could be out living his life instead of hovering in ghostly form around the house or strolling through empty streets with his old grandpa. What was he getting out of this?

One night, as we settled into our chairs to begin our ritual, I glanced over at Leo’s body. He’d gotten comfortable, his head tilted back, his breathing already slowing, his eyelids fluttering shut. It struck me how young and full of life he looked, even when he was so still. I felt an odd pang of longing, a desire that surprised me in its intensity.

When had I last felt young? Truly young, without the weight of decades pressing down on my shoulders? What would it be like to feel like that one more time, to feel that boundless energy I saw in Leo.

As Leo’s breathing grew steady, his astral self drifting beside me, I looked back at his empty body, sitting there, vulnerable and untouched. The thought tugged at me, and for a moment, I felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out, take his body for myself just for one fleeting moment

---

The idea had been lingering in the back of my mind for weeks now. Every time I saw Leo drifting out of his body, the temptation grew a little stronger.

He was shy about his body, sure, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that felt like a betrayal somehow, slipping into him without asking. But there’s no way he’d ever say yes. Besides, I would be in and out before he’d ever know, right?

Finally, I gathered the courage. One evening, Leo announced he was heading out and asked me to join. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, wanna come with,” he said with a grin as he leaned back, his breathing slowing as he began the process.

I shook my head no, feigning sleepiness. “I’ll stay in tonight,” I replied. “I could use the rest.”

As his body drifted to sleep, I waited, counting each minute until I was sure his astral form was far enough away. Then, with my heart racing, I initiated my own astral walk and hovered towards his body .

A deep anticipation rushed over me as I prepared to enter. “Just a half hour, tops” I told myself.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to slip in as gently as possible. But something was wrong. As soon as I began, it felt as if I were pushing against a wall. I couldn’t just slide in like I usually did with my own body. I adjusted my position, aligning myself more carefully with his form, and tried again. This time, I felt a bit of give, and gradually, I was able to push through, inch by inch.

First my legs merged with his, then my torso. I felt the strength in his muscles as I took on his form. I kept pushing, my hands now matching his, aligning, filling out his arms, until finally, my head was nearly there, just hovering over his own.

But then, out of nowhere, I saw Leo’s astral form float towards me from across the room, his face a mixture of shock and fear. Me entering his body must’ve attracted his astral form back as a defense mechansim. Panic flared within me. If he re-entered his body while I was halfway in… I didn’t even know what would happen, but I didn’t want to find out. Before he could reach me, I shoved my head down, slipping fully inside.

---

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was fully conscious—inside Leo’s body. My vision felt sharper, my muscles responsive, and as I looked down, I took in his smooth, toned arms, the strength and youth radiating through every limb. It was exhilarating.

I hopped up, feeling the lightness in my step that I hadn’t felt in years. Each movement was effortless, as if my body itself had forgotten what it meant to be heavy. I walked around the room, flexing his hands, rolling his shoulders, feeling every inch of youth as it coursed through me.

But then I felt something odd—a light tapping on my stomach, almost like a faint punch or a persistent nudge. Instinctively, I flexed Leo’s abs, the sensation dulling a bit, and that’s when it hit me. That tapping—that was Leo, trying to get his body back.

“Leo…” I whispered, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, kid. I’ll be out soon, I promise.”

I let myself enjoy the feeling of his body, each sensation crisp and vivid. As I explored myself, I felt a familiar tension grow in my pants, one that I hadn’t felt in years. Instinctively, I reached down to my waistband and grabbed down to tug at my new, surprisingly hairy ball sack. That was enough to get my cock to throb.

I began stroking my new, uncut cock while feeling up my smooth torso with my other hand. As I did, my mind wandered to all the hot guys I could pull in this body if Leo ever let me borrow it again. Concentrating on that thought was all it took to send me over the edge. Slowly and sensually tugging at my shaft, I spurted all over my chest, completely draining mysefl.

Finally, as I lay back into the bed, a wave of satisfaction washed over me, leaving me feeling both exhilarated and calm. The room was warm and quiet, and with the last bit of energy fading from me, I felt a sudden drowsiness settle in. I lay down, and before I could convince myself to leave, I drifted into sleep, enveloped in the softness of youth and the quiet of Leo’s room.

--

I jolted awake, my heart racing as I felt hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me roughly. Blinking in confusion, I looked up—and there was my old, familiar face, creased with panic and rage, staring down at me.

“What the hell did you do?” he demanded, his voice hoarse and furious.

It took me a second to process, my mind still foggy from sleep. I tried to sit up, disoriented, and felt the youthful energy of Leo’s body springing into action, as if the night hadn’t worn it down in the slightest.

“What…” I managed, words failing me. But he kept going, too upset to wait for me to catch up.

“I had no choice but to take your body,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Otherwise, I’d have just… disappeared. Astral projection doesn’t work for body swapping. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I never told you that because I didn’t think you’d ever try something like this.”

The full weight of his words settled over me, each one hitting like a cold punch. “So… we can’t just switch back?”

He shook his—my—head, a bitter smile flashing across his face. “No. There's a refractory period before we can attempt any switch again. It’s designed to prevent exactly what you just did. We’d have to wait ten years before we could even try to go back.”

“Ten years…” I repeated, the words sinking in like stones in my stomach. My old body—now his—was 90. I knew my own heart, knew how every joint ached, knew how every year was harder than the last. The odds of it lasting another decade were slim to none.

The guilt knotted in my chest, sharp and sour. I opened my mouth to apologize, to try to explain, but the words caught in my throat. What could I even say?

But then, unbidden, a different thought crept in. In ten years, this body would be 30. That meant I had Leo’s—my entire 20s to live again, the years I’d once cherished and missed deeply. I looked down at my youthful hands, the strength and vitality I could feel coursing through every inch of Leo’s body, and felt a strange, conflicted thrill rise within me.

He must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because his face—my old, familiar face—darkened. “Are you… are you happy about this?” he whispered, incredulous.

I shook my head, trying to fight the feelings rising up within me, but they were relentless. The shame of it burned hot, yet I couldn’t deny the excitement simmering just beneath.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression steady. “Leo,” I said softly, but I didn’t know how to finish.

He watched me, a flash of betrayal in his eyes as he seemed to understand, even without me saying it. And then, with a bitter laugh, he turned away.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room. Fuck, this’ll be fun.

[soapssuds]

"psych ward patient"!simon riley x psych ward patient!reader, or in which you try to hold onto someone despite how the floor beneath you crumbles.

cw | an abusive nurse (what the nurse does though is not described)

You glanced across the dining hall, your focus on someone who you have noticed before but never had the courage to talk to. You heard the rumors about him. About him being someone from the military, though others say he made the whole thing up.

You don't know how long you've been staring until he is staring right back, seemingly being able to feel your gaze. And instead of doing the "normal" thing and looking away, you continue your unabashed staring.

He wore a sort of mask, your nurse telling you that it was called a balaclava. You asked if you could get one too, but she merely glared at you which shut you up quickly. Your nurse was mean, so you tried to get on her good side as soon as possible and as often too.

It wasn't until you saw him get up from his table (plate of food in hand) and walk towards you did you break out of your thoughts. And, in silence, he had plopped down in front of you in the empty seat.

You continued to stare before deciding to finally open your mouth.

"I like your balaclava!"

Your voice echoed a bit. More than you intended it to.

He grunted out a thank you before turning his attention back to his food, a free hand rising up to pull at the fabric so his mouth was free.

You were quick to notice a scared.

"Wot got you starin' so hard?"

His accent was the first thing to hit you. You wondered where he was from.

"I thought you were pretty."

"Pretty," he parrots, almost like a scoff.

"Mm, when you first got here and weren't allowed the mask. Thought you were pretty. Wanted to tell you, but didn't know how."

He studied you for a moment. His analytical eyes making you feel just a tad bit too self conscious. It felt like he could see everything for what you are... and for what you weren't.

"Your voice is pretty too," you suddenly said.

That was another thing about you. In tense situations and in one's where it was getting suffocating or awkward, you would blurt out whatever you were thinking. A terrible habbit. But you hate being stared at despite staring at others so often yourself.

Just as he was about to say something, your nurse came to retrieve you. Her glare telling you everything you needed to know.

"You. Up."

She barked out those words as if commanding a dog. You could never handle it when someone was yelling at you. Your body always seemed to shut down the moment someone raises their voice at you.

And when you didn't budge, a guard came up to you and grabbed a strong hold onto your wrist to drag you along. Your food long forgotten as the nurse let out an angered huff and quickly followed after.

Simon was left to his questions before someone else sat next to him, "shame, guess she got caught again."

"Caught for wot?"

The new patient who sat next to Simon gave him a sad smile, "that lady nurse is super strict. It's not fun at all in her unit. Doesn't even let patients keep personal items. y/n, though, likes to read, and y/n always gets into trouble when the nurse finds a book in their room. Takes out her anger on y/n, too."

Simon looked to the doors that you, the guard, and the nurse disappeared behind.

"Best not to follow. It'll be over soon."

And true to the patients words, you came back. A little shaken and scared then before. Arms hugging close to your body and legs quivering like a newborn deer. And the quiver didn't do much to hide the slight limp.

Simon wasn't an idiot. He already knew what happened behind closed doors.

"Oh? Still here? Though you would go back to your original table," you said with such a timid voice than from before. It made something within him ache.

"D' you want me t' go back t' my own table?"

You shook your, "no, no! Please...please stay for a while longer?"

Simon nodded, his food already gone and his mask already situated back into place, and stayed.

Originally, he was here for an undercover mission. His target still far from reach.

"No one will even know you don't belong!"

Johnny that bastard.

What Simon didn't expect was to meet you. Well, see you from a distance and be hyper aware of your stare of him the moment he got here. Truth be told, he thought you were with the target. The two of you working together in the safety confines of the psych ward.

Though, the more he silently observed, the more obvious it became that you were just a patient. An innocent little thing being tortured by the ones who claim to be helping.

So maybe after this shitshow of a mission is over, he can take you with him. Maybe even take care of that nurse for you, too.

[meleeyz]

୭ 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗙𝗜𝗧𝗦 ˚. ᵎᵎ

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ It's the first oneshot I've written here and in English, enjoy and let me know your opinion ;)

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Ekko’s workshop was always buzzing with a quiet, electric energy, a space where ideas sparked as easily as bolts from his tools. Today, though, the hum of his work seemed charged with something more, something new.

You were perched comfortably on his worktable, your gaze fixed on him as he knelt beside his half-dismantled hoverboard, hands busy replacing a cracked circuit. You’d shown up in a new outfit, something more “work-appropriate,” as Zeri had put it. She’d insisted on it, practically yanking you to her favorite underground tailor that morning, saying you needed “a proper look if you’re gonna hang around the Firelights.”

The end result, strangely enough, looked like it could’ve been handpicked from Ekko’s own wardrobe—a mix of utility and edge, sturdy but stylish enough to blend in with Zaun’s streets. Though it was obvious that Zeri had chosen the style, the whole look had an uncanny resemblance to Ekko’s own favorite fit, down to the last detail. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she’d done it on purpose.

Maybe he wasn’t as subtle about his hints as he thought he’d been.

You noticed him watching you, his brown eyes lingering a moment longer than he probably meant them to. You fought back a small smile and threw a comment his way, something light and sarcastic about the “coincidental” matching outfits, pretending not to see the faint flush that rose to his cheeks in response.

“Zeri did say it was supposed to be work-appropriate,” you said, crossing your arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “But I didn’t think she meant this close to the Firelights’ dress code. You got a hand in that, Ekko?”

He looked up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, though he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he returned to his work, tugging at a stubborn bolt and muttering something unintelligible about “stupid circuitry.” But you noticed the twitch in his lips, the way he was holding back. As he worked, you found your gaze drifting over his features. The concentrated furrow of his brow, the way his hands moved with practiced ease, the quiet intensity that settled over him whenever he was focused on a task—it was captivating in a way you hadn’t quite expected.

Ekko could feel your eyes on him, too, and the idea that you were watching him—really watching him—sent an electric thrill down his spine. He didn’t want to say anything and risk breaking the moment, but it made his hands feel almost clumsy as he tried to focus on the hoverboard.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased, raising an eyebrow without looking up. His voice was casual, but he was anything but.

Caught off guard, you huffed and rolled your eyes, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

“Not really. I was just wondering how long it would take you to fix a single circuit board.”

Ekko laughed under his breath, stealing a quick glance up at you.

“Good one,” he said, tightening the last bolt with a playful shake of his head. “You might look the part, but I think you still got a ways to go before you understand how delicate this stuff actually is.”

“Oh, I understand delicate,” you replied, leaning forward with a slight smirk. “I just thought you were faster than this, Little Man.”

At that, he finally set down his tools, crossing his arms as he straightened up and fixed you with a challenging gaze. “Careful with that nickname,” he warned, though his tone was light. “Only certain people get away with that.”

You raised an eyebrow, shrugging as if it were no big deal, but you couldn’t hide the amusement in your eyes.

“Good thing I’m not just ‘certain people,’ huh?”

A brief silence settled over the room, and the air thick.. Ekko glanced down at your matching outfits, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t resist saying it now.

“Guess we look pretty good together, don’t we?” he mused, looking back at you with a glint in his eye. He tilted his head, inspecting the outfit with mock seriousness. “I mean, not that I had anything to do with it or anything…”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Uh-huh. Right. Because I just happened to show up looking like your twin by pure chance.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault if you’ve got good taste,” he shot back, raising his hands in defense. But there was a glimmer in his eyes that gave him away, the faintest hint of guilt wrapped in a smile. He shifted under your gaze, hands back at the hoverboard, suddenly finding the bolts extremely interesting.

“Ekko,” you said, leaning forward with a grin. “Just admit it—you told Zeri, didn’t you?”

He bit his lip, trying to hide the grin that threatened to break free.

“What? No. Me? Tell her to match you with me? Why would I… I mean, I don’t need to do that, obviously. I just… maybe gave her a few hints, that’s all.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.

You tilted your head, your expression amused but curious.

“A few hints?”

“Alright, maybe more than a few,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “I may have… strongly suggested that she’d do me a solid. Told her you needed something sturdy, something that says ‘ready for action.’”

“And something that conveniently matches your look?”

“Hey,” he said, flashing a grin, “it’s all part of team spirit, right?”

You laughed, and the sound filled the small workshop, bringing a warmth that had little to do with the stuffy, cramped room. Ekko looked at you, his face softening as he watched the way the corners of your mouth lifted, the easy way you teased him. In that moment, he felt a surge of pride mixed with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

The tension between you shifted, settling into something quieter, more comfortable. He hesitated, caught between the impulse to say more and the safety of holding back. But he found himself taking a small step closer, his eyes serious now as they met yours.

“You know,” he said softly, the bravado slipping from his voice, “I just… thought you’d look cool. Like you belonged here. Not that you need clothes for that or anything,” he added quickly, fumbling over his words, “but… it helps.”

For a brief moment, you forgot how to speak, his words catching you off guard in a way that left you momentarily stunned. When you finally found your voice, it was softer, more genuine.

“Well, I guess I should thank you, then,” you said, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “I could get used to this look. Guess I owe Zeri, too.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, but the laughter quickly faded into a thoughtful silence. He looked down, suddenly unsure of himself, as if he hadn’t just been wearing a confident smile a moment before.

“You know, I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “I don’t say it much, but… it’s cool having someone like you around.”

The words hung in the air, raw and honest, laced with all the things he hadn’t yet dared to put into words. You felt your heart skip a beat, your usual sarcasm and wit replaced by something softer, something fragile.

Before you could respond, he tapped the board, testing its balance with a nudge.

“Alright, give me a hand with this?” he asked, a little too quickly, holding it out towards you. “The stabilizer’s acting up again.”

Grateful for the distraction, you hopped down from the table, moving to stand beside him. You watched as he leaned over the board, pointing out the issue, but you could hardly focus on the gadget. Instead, your gaze wandered, noticing the fine details in his hands, the deftness of his movements, the way his focus was so intense.

Together, you both adjusted the stabilizer, a comfortable silence settling over the workshop, punctuated only by the occasional click and buzz of Ekko’s tools. When he was satisfied, he gave the board a final spin, and it hummed to life, hovering slightly above the ground with a soft glow. He grinned, proud of your combined handiwork.

“Not bad,” he said, his voice warm with pride. He turned to you, his eyes bright. “Almost feels like I’ve got a new partner-in-crime. Think you could handle it?”

You rolled your eyes with a smirk.

“You think I can’t handle a little trouble?”

“Fair point,” he replied, a laugh bubbling out as he nudged your shoulder. He stepped back, reaching out his hand toward you with a grin. “Hop on. You can test it out, see if my handiwork holds up.”

You took his hand and he put his arm around you, playfully saying that you would fall or something, whatever, you didn't really pay attention to him but instead all your concentration was on his hand holding your waist, and with a push you both left the workshop, the tree outside was as beautiful as ever, the cool breeze hitting your face and you could swear there was a strange feeling in your stomach thanks to the height.

Yeah, it was probably the height…

After a few loops, he brought the board to a slow stop, both of you leaning on each other for balance. He stepped off first, offering his hand to help you down.

“Guess it works pretty well,” he said, giving you a satisfied nod. “Must be the matching outfits. Makes everything run smoother.”

“Must be,” you replied, smiling as you gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Maybe we should make this a regular thing.”

His eyes held yours for a moment longer, his expression softening as he considered your words. “Yeah, maybe we should,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you climbed the stairs in the tree to re-enter the workshop, you two began to chat calmly again, pretending that everything was exactly the same as before. But now you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of happiness. Ekko’s touch, his words, and the way he’d gone out of his way to match outfits with you—it all felt like a secret shared only between the two of you.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[butterflyslinky]

It's been seven months. They've seen each other on calls, but they keep up a mask of stiff professionalism if they have to talk at all.

But now Buck's sitting in a gay bar, looking for some fun the same way he does on every 48 off. His expectations are low. No one seems to want a real relationship, not that he's really trying for one, ad the sex is mediocre at best.

Because none of them are Tommy.

He's two drinks in when he hears a familiar laugh and turns. There's Tommy, sitting four stools down and talking to the bartender. Buck wonders how he missed him entering the bar, but it doesn't matter. What matters is Tommy is here, so close, and Buck...

Okay, he'd jumped the gun asking Tommy to move in. And everything he's said before that had been...not great. Thinking about it, it's no wonder Tommy had hit the brakes. Though he maybe could have asked to just take a break instead of ending it completely.

Though it would have gone the same way, probably.

Buck knocks back his last drink and stands. He's steady on his feet as he makes his way down the bar and plops himself into the empty seat next to Tommy

Tommy doesn't look shocked to see him. Not happy, either. Just kind of resigned. "Buck?"

"Don't," Buck says. "I don't want..." He grits his teeth to force back tears. "I think we need to talk."

"Why?" Tommy asks.

"Because I have things to say to you," Buck says. "And I'm not going to let you just walk out again."

He's said all those things, in texts that sat unanswered, voice messages that were probably deleted without being heard. This time, he wants to make sure Tommy hears.

"I don't have a lot of time tonight," Tommy says.

"Then I'll say it fast. You broke my heart, Tommy. You said you were my first but not my last...but you weren't my first. I've dated and broken up before, I know what relationships are. Just cause you're a dude doesn't mean it was any different. As to not being my last, well, I've had plenty in the last seven months and none of them are going to be my anything. I told you they can be the same thing, and I mean it. I don't want to be in love with anyone the way I'm in love with you."

"Evan..."

"And if you don't want me, fine, but just say that instead of giving me some bullshit about not wanting your heart broken. Because I can't break your heart, Tommy. Maybe it's been seven months, but I'm still in love with you, and I don't see that changing any time soon." Evan looks down for a moment. "So...I know I'm a lot. I know I said some dumb shit. And I know there's a lot I still don't know. But I do know I want you to come home with me, and you don't have to stay, but...I want to try again. Now that I know a little more."

Tommy's eyes are bright when Buck looks up. "I can't."

"What?"

"Evan, I can't come with you tonight. Or any night."

Buck's stomach sinks. "Is there someone else?"

"No," Tommy says. "No, just...I got a new job. In Seattle...they offered me a command. A chance to be captain...don't get much more brave and trailblazing than that, do you, being an openly gay fire captain." He swallows hard. "I'm leaving on Monday."

Buck stares. The world seems to be tilting, even though he hasn't had that much to drink. "Oh."

"I thought you would have heard," Tommy says. "It's been kind of big news around the department."

"Everyone's been extra delicate with me," Buck says. "They don't talk about you where they think I can hear." He forces a smile. "Congratulations...you deserve it."

"Yeah?" Tommy says.

"Yeah. I'm happy for you." Buck waves to the bartender. "Put his drinks on my tab."

"Evan..."

"Least I can do. Since...since it's really over."

Tommy nods, but he looks sad. "Yeah," he says. "I guess I can just...start again. And I guess you can, too."

"Yeah," Buck says. "I guess I can."

--------------

It's a stupid idea, but Buck's full of those. He knows that it'll probably end in disaster, that he'll end up crawling back with his tail between his legs again.

But he has to try.

The airport looks just the same as it had when he dropped Abby off all those years ago. The same was it had been when he'd watched her walk out of his life, only to be seen again when it was unavoidable.

He's not doing that now.

Tommy is easy to spot, in spite of the crowd, standing in the check-in line. Buck thinks it must be kismet, that he's on time. There had been several flights to Seattle today, and he just took his best shot.

"Tommy!"

Tommy turns, and his brow furrows when he sees Buck. "Evan?"

Buck pushes his way through the crown, suitcase heavy in his hand, until he reaches Tommy's side. Tommy looks him over, then down at the bag. "Evan, what..."

"I know you said it's over," Buck says. "And that you don't want to try this again. And if you tell me to leave right now, I will. But I couldn't take the chance that I'd never see you again, even if you don't want to be in my life. And don't worry about work, Bobby transferred me to a different station than the one you're commanding, and I have a place to stay until I can find an apartment, and I'll get a new car since I gave the Jeep back to Maddie, but..."

"Evan," Tommy interrupts. "Did you just upend your life to follow me to Seattle?"

"Yes," Evan says. "If you'll let me."

Tommy stares for a minute before he pulls Buck into a kiss. And this time, Buck really knows it will be forever.

[daisymbin]

what are we? - choi seungcheol

warnings: a cocky slightly obnoxious cheol

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: friends to???

wc: 1.1k

check out my masterlist!

“what are we, sweetheart?” seungcheol asked, a smug smirk ghosting over his face. his voice was casual, but the look in his eyes made your breath catch. it was the kind of playful cocky question he always asked, but something about this time felt different.

“what?” your confusion was evident, with an edge of irritation. your cheeks already starting to heat up now that you have his full attention.

seungcheol leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he studied you. “you keep staring at me like that,” he said, teasing but with a hint of curiosity. “you into me or something?” he prods further, “you’re really not going to say anything?” his raised right eyebrow now joins his smirk, his voice dripping with playful challenge, like he was daring you to admit something.

your heart skipped a beat, but you forced a nervous laugh, hoping it would break the tension. “i wasn’t staring,” you insisted, averting your gaze quickly. “stop being so obnoxious.”

seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward just enough so his face was closer to yours than it should’ve been; just inches away. “oh, come on. you know i can see right through you,” he teased, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk of his. “what’s with that look, hmm? don’t tell me you’re actually going shy on me now?”

the olympics marathon is currently being held in your head. they're racing, you're racing. YOUR HEART IS RACING. you scramble for a way out of this conversation, but you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened at his closeness. “i’m not shy,” you mumbled, though your voice gave you away. “you just… say stupid things sometimes.”

seungcheol’s smirk only deepened, and the way his eyes glinted with mischief made your chest tighten. “stupid things?” he repeated, as though he was savoring the words. “so me asking what we are is stupid, huh?”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest. “yeah,” you said a little too defensively. “obviously we’re nothing but friends. you’re just an annoying, flirty friend. it’s nothing serious.”

his expression faltered, the cocky grin slipping for a second before his cocky mask quickly returned, a subtle shift in his demeanor. “so, you think i’m just messing around?” he asked, his voice still playful, but now it had a slight edge to it. something deeper, something almost serious beneath the surface.

“yeah,” you repeated, your voice quieter now, unsure. “you’re always joking, cheol. nothing's ever serious with you.”

he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you. for a moment, everything went still. the usual playful banter was gone, replaced with something much heavier, much more charged. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice softer, quieter than you’d expected, like he was genuinely hurt by your words.

seungcheol sighed, his usual cocky mask slipping completely as he watched you. “i don’t joke when i say i want you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere in a way you’d never heard before. “i don’t joke when i say you mean something to me.”

you blink once, and then twice. then, before his words fully registered in your head, he continues, “& I definitely wasn't joking when I said I like you.”

his words hang in the air, each one going off like fireworks in your head.

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes softening as they locked onto yours, almost searching for something in your expression. “i’m not always joking, you know,” he added, his voice even quieter now, as if he was afraid of what you might say next.

your chest tightened painfully. his words felt like a weight—heavy, real, undeniable.

“i can't tell if you're being serious-” you whispered, your heart racing as the words tumbled out before you could stop them; but seungcheol did.

seungcheol kept his eyes on you, his gaze unwavering, steady, affirming. “i'm not fucking with you, princess. I mean, unless?” he asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

this time, you roll your eyes and you hit him on his chest lightly, “can you be serious for once?”

“alright, alright, i was joking about the fucking- but also not, well not the one before. you get what I mean.” he said hastily, a shit-eating grin adorning his handsome face.

seungcheol slowly reached for your hand, and when his fingers brushed against yours, the electricity between you both felt undeniable. “i mean it,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “i really do like you. a lot.”

you tried to find the familiar cocky, playful glint that his orbs always wear, but it was replaced with something deeper. something more vulnerable. you were still reeling from everything he had just said, trying to process it all.

“so tell me now, what are we, really?” his fingers lingered over yours, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. “i believe i already told you a long time ago how i feel about you, though, I wish you would have taken me seriously back then.” he repeated, his voice gentle. “so what do you say? because if it were up to me, we’d be something more. but it’s up to you, too.”

your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself leaning into his touch without thinking. the hope in his eyes, the vulnerability behind his usual cocky demeanor—it was enough to leave you speechless. but this time, you knew he wasn’t joking. he was waiting for your answer.

you don't say anything, not verbally at least. you take in a shaky breath, you let yourself smile back at him, your fingers curling to hold his.

seungcheol's eyes lit up at this, and he grinned, the smugness returning in a way that made your heart feel light. “finally,” he teased, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “i thought i was going to have to flirt with you forever to get you to see it.”

you laughed, the tension melting away, and this time, it felt different. it felt real. “well great, you can stop flirting now.” you say, relieved.

“oh, absolutely not,” seungcheol replied, his smile warm and genuine. “because now, you know I mean it & i know you’ll take me seriously.”

and as he leaned in closer, your laughter was swallowed by the way his eyes sparkled with something you’d been waiting to see all along: the promise that maybe everything he’d said before had been leading to this moment.