#but i still don't know if it's said in the pattern and i missed it or if it's just lacking

[applestorms]

4 and 16 for the DN asks 👀

HEHEHE. ok <3 original ask game

4. who’s your favorite underrated or obscure character?

NEAR. we've got a pretty good community of near lovers around here but i'm counting him as underrated due to fandom-wide opinions. alternatively, kiyomi. <33

16. who do you believe is the smartest character?

i was actually considering writing a whole post on intelligence in DN, but didn't think i had enough to say for a full ramble so here's a (not so) brief overview of a bunch of notable characters. i'm of the opinion that trying to rank/judge intelligence by some kind of hierarchy or objective standard is kind of impossible (say it with me everyone, IQ tests are bullshitttt) and personality/temperament plays quite a significant role in DN's mind games, so. idk. here:

L: if you Demanded i choose one person to be the smartest character in DN, i'd probably give in and say L. that being said, i think L's intelligence mostly surrounds things like his logical reasoning/pattern recognition/memory for details/etc. his knowledge of people in particular is interesting to me, as while i don't think he intuitively Gets people very well, his ability to reason out their mindset/emotional character is one of his key abilities in the series (see: figuring out KIRA's mindset to confirm that he's even a real person at all)-- so, idk, it's kinda hard to judge if that could be considered Emotional Int or not. he's certainly also got great potential to learn more, esp if it's for the sake of a case, though his personality n picky, princess-y attitude trips him up a bit.

NEAR: while i don't think near has as much Collected Knowledge as L, if only due to not having the same amount of lived experience/time to get there, i do think he's got one advantage over him when it comes to his rationality. i.e. near is Chill where L gets very, very invested in his projects, which can at times cloud his judgement when it comes to things not directly related to said projects. near just seems more likely to be the type to take a step back n reflect on everything, perhaps even to a fault, though this grants him the Distinct advantage of allowing him to keep his ego in check. don't get me wrong, he's still cocky and fixated and kind of an asshole, but man's got hobbies. he knows how to take a vacation.

LIGHT: light is dumb as fuck. at the start of the story he's in a similar position to near, lacking the lived experience and Collected Knowledge of L, and his planning/judgements are screwed not only by his lack of intelligence, but his overwhelming ego n temper. light's real strength is his ability to manipulate people, knowing the exact type of mask he needs to wear to get what he needs, and his ability to keep (outwardly) calm in the face of stress. once/if he gets past his temper, he's very good at reacting in the moment n rolling with the punches. light is also an interesting case in that his intelligence will often backfire against him-- where L can sometimes get his view clouded by viewing Everything through the lens of the case and missing some of the greater consequences of his actions (see: granting KIRA god status through lind l. tailor), light gets fucked up in that his reasoning allows him to better Repress and Deny the facts of reality that he doesn't want to have to deal with (e.g. his own murders). also, Knowledge-wise, i think it's notable that one of the few academic subjects we see light being Really good at (in the anime, at least?) is english-- communication is light's biggest strength, you could say. ig he is a Warrior of the pen and all.

MELLO: i kinda see him as suffering from the same faults/strengths as light, but to a more extreme/overt degree. he Struggles to keep his temper and ego in check, especially since it is constantly being aggravated by his inferiority complex-- but when he can, he is similarly quite good at keeping calm and chill and reacting well to the circumstances. i actually think he's one of the better planners in the series, and his willingness to take action grants him the advantage of catching other people off guard. it always gets to me that what ultimately takes mello out is his kindness/courtesy, allowing takada her blanket and her chance to kill him. he seems to care about People in the most genuine way out of anyone to me in this series, which is both lovely and tragic.

MISA: anyways, onto someone who Does Not care about people. misa's biggest strength is her acting and YES, SHE'S GOOD AT ACTING. SHUT UP. i would say she's even better than light at this, since it's literally part of her job and also she apparently fools half the fandom into thinking she's a moron. i actually think misa has a similar strength to near as well in that she's capable of getting outside her own head and reflecting on the situation in a way that isn't purely driven by her own ego-- part of her fault is just that, like L, she often doesn't care enough to bother. misa knows what the fuck she wants, and pursues it successfully and rigorously enough to keep light in a stranglehold from the minute she meets him until the day he fucking dies. the question is whether or not this Thing she wants so badly will actually make her happy, or whether she will allow herself to drop the stubbornness for two goddamn seconds and chill out enough to actually consider other options.

KIYOMI: kiyomi is book smart and has quite good logic and reasoning as well, but she is Stifled by social expectations a way that i see as very much parallel to light. i think her biggest strength and weakness are knotted up together, in a way-- she makes the connections, but only rarely bothers to say them out loud. i actually think she might have a similar mix of self-doubt and ego as mello, though the way they express those traits are polar opposite. she's Aware of people in a similar way too, or at the very least conventional rules of morality/ethics, enough so to be horrified when light asks her to kill (but not enough to stop herself from doing it). i fucking adore the idea that she's a bit of a closeted sadist too-- etc. etc. horror at her actions, or her own capacity for them in and of itself? juicy shit.

NAOMI: taking from LABB murder canon for this one too-- naomi Definitely has strong logical reasoning, being able to keep up with/follow much of the mind game bullshittery of beyond and L even as ryuzaki is fucking with her irl. she's got a more blunt, brutal version of near's Don't Give A Fuck-ery too, throwing away the bullshit without a second of doubt or care when she recognizes it. her weakness is again in her kindness, though naomi's has got more of a maternal edge to it than mello's. remember-- what fucks her up, what causes her to separate herself from the FBI in the first place is not her own experiences with racism or sexism from her coworkers, but her inability to shoot a child. kind of opposite to kiyomi in that way, actually, horror at her inability to execute violence against someone that she sees as an inherently innocent being? perhaps part of what endears her to L as well, and light.

SOICHIRO: his greatest strength is his capacity for reflection, which i see as a side effect of his age. soichiro is not caught up in the throes of his own ego, he doesn't have much patience for the mind games, and why would he? he's got a job to do, a family to take care of and love. he's more cool-headed than a lot of the younger characters because of this, capable of reconsidering his morals and the nuances of his ethical stance as he comes in contact with new situations, not holding to some Static idea of This Is How Reality Must Be 100% (see: him softening his stance to say that the true evil is "the capacity to kill," in his hospital bed). yet this love for his family, the fact that he has kind of Made It, is also his greatest weakness-- he's got something to lose now, and especially in the second half, we can see that Fear really get to him.

BEYOND: is simply not that smart. worse, he's all ego and got a simultaneous superiority/inferiority complex. he comes up w/ dumb, overly convoluted puzzles n then looks down on other people for being too Pedestrian to get it, walking naomi through his reasoning bc he thinks she's too stupid to figure out the important shit. i don't even think he's on naomi's level of reasoning, he's just good at murder mystery-esque puzzle bs and lighting himself on fire.

[nadas-dirthalen]

A Veilguard Achievement Icon Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore... but Was I Right?

— PART ONE —

Hello again, friends and travellers. Now that I've beaten Dragon Age: the Veilguard, I wanted to go through all those 30,000 words of predictions that I wrote in the ~11 days leading up to its release. I'd seen an achievement icon that pieced together a lot of Dragon Age lore for me.

But, I hadn't played Veilguard. All I had was the footage from September 19, the achievement list, and anything else BioWare had released.

So... was I right? And if so, how much was I right about?

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

(no, this screenshot isn't a spoiler, I just like it.)

Welcome Back for Round Two. >:)

Stating right off the bat: I have only played Dragon Age: the Veilguard 1.5 times and so this collection is very, very incomplete. There's no way for me to learn every codex before they're even all on the wiki. If I've missed something, let me know!!

I don't know how many parts this is going to have. This has been a very fun, but very sleep-deprived week. Expect no sensible organization here; we're letting the ADHD reign!

That said, here's what I'm going to attempt to do:

A Recap of My Grand Theory: Solas was the Blight's Beginning, and Mythal was Responsible

How I Made My Predictions: A Study in Context and Pattern Recognition

What Did I Actually Get Right? (An Overview, Anyway)

Early Signs Veilguard Added to My Theories

A Recap of My Grand Theory: Solas was the Blight's Beginning, and Mythal was Responsible

I really don't have space to go in depth on what amounted to 30,000 words of theorycrafting (which still boggles my mind, how did I do that and still find time to sleep). Instead, I'll link every post and make a bullet point list of what big guesses I made in each.

Part One: Solas was creating from spirit and lyrium, crafted in one of Mythal's lyrium coffins that we see both in the Temple of Solasan and Trespasser. That means that some part of him was part of a Titan, once. There were hints about this across all three preceding games, and these hints re-contextualize those games and their place in the Dragon Age narrative. The Titans are likely the Forgotten Ones, because Fen'Harel walked among both the Forgotten Ones and the Evanuris in his legends.

Part Two: The Mythal lullaby in Trespasser is the story of Solas' creation, specifically. Da'durgen'lin refers to 'little stone boy.' Solas' twice-used phrase Ar dirthan'as ir elgara, ma sula e'var vhenan is him speaking to lyrium itself, which he does both with Sera (ancient elvhen? andruil memory? people go into more depth on this than I ever do) and the Eye of Kethisca. Elven phrases and pieces of writing/song from everywhere point to Solas' backstory and are all possibly written/sung by Solas. The codices in the Temple of Solasan are also referencing his backstory. There is a larger narrative at work happening in the random elven literature we find, and it suggests a lot of things about the world.

Part Three: The Titans are definitely the Forgotten Ones—at least, part of them (more on that later). They have all been sundered. One part remains in the Abyss; the other in the Fade. The Fade, in fact, is every Titan's consciousness, all sundered by Fen'Harel. This is the "leg" that the wolf chewed off to "escape the trap": Solas' connection to ir sa tel'nal, isatunoll. This is why he loves the Fade: he's reconnecting with the consciousness he broke himself apart from. This is also why he has Titan/Stone magic. This is also why lyrium grows both in the Abyss and in the Fade.

• Oh, and spirits seem like they might be the thoughts of Titans.

Part Four: The Chant of Light tells the story of the Evanuris, from their manifestation as spirits to their mining of lyrium and war with the Titans to the Makers' creation of "everyone else." The archdemons and Magisters Sidereal are also explained in its verses. The Chant also suggests the Maker is a Titan whose mind and body are sundered, and that Andraste's hearing the "voice of the Maker" is her hearing the Titan's song.

Part Five: The tragedy of the Evanuris, part 1/3: Mythal is known to have mined people from lyrium. Elgar'nan probably sundered spirits, notably Dirthamen and Falon'Din. Falon'Din seems to have wanted to attack Titans that "belonged" to other Evanuris to gain more "worshippers" (lyrium people; slaves) for himself.

Part Six: The tragedy of the Evanuris, part 2/3: Sylaise probably made the Scaled Ones. June probably is responsible for not just lots of inventions, but the invention of the geas. Dirthamen's "secrets" are "thoughts" (spirits) forced into the bodies of his worshippers... and animals... and trees (AKA, he made a lot of abominations).

Part Seven: The tragedy of the Evanuris, part 3/3: the blight seems to be the Titans' defence against repeated attacks. Crucially, all of the Evanuris made the Titans this way... but Mythal made them that way first. The reason the Titans are "forgotten" now is because Mythal tried to erase all memory of them so that none would find the blight again. (She failed. Thanks, Andruil and Ghilan'nain).

Part Eight: The story of Solas, part 1/3: Solas came from an un-sundered world where both "mage magic" and "Stone magic" were the same thing. He was created in the Temple of Solasan, where "icy terror" became the first blighted Titan. Solas' existence was significant to the Evanuris because it suggested that one can survive the blight, and his moniker (the Dread Wolf) comes from the fact that he was a wolf (elven general) that came from the terror Titan (dread).

Part Nine: Since Solas' origin story is the start of the blight, then all of Solas' story from that point is not the story of just him, but the story of the blight. This signifies his place in Dragon Age's entire narrative, and also spells out what the overarching Point™ of the series is. Backed into a proverbial corner where none of the Evanuris would stop the things that angered the Titans, Solas' only choice was to sunder the Titans from their consciousness. He misses the Stone, also.

• He also imprisoned the Evanuris in Stone, something called "gangue" in Hissing Wastes codices.

• His ultimate goal is to return consciousness to the Titans, fixing the "wound" he made when the Veil went up.

Part Ten: The Inquisitor is special because their spirit is from the same Titan as Solas. The Breach is a threat because if the Veil comes down too soon, all the Titans will come back blighted and angry. The Veil disintegrating means all the Titans are waking anyway, little by little. The Dread Wolf shape is actually an aspect of Terror that can kill people with fear. The Evanuris who've been killed before have potentially had their spirits "recycled" and might be reincarnating into mortal people now. Oh, and a bunch of predictions on the companions, Solas/Mythal, etc, that I'll go over again down below.

How I Made My Predictions: A Study in Context and Pattern Recognition

I've had a lot of people ask how I... y'know. Did that. How one person could write 30,000 words of guesses in the week and a half before Veilguard, citing so many sources, and... not be that far off, probably.

Honestly the short version of this is, "I read the Chant of Light as it appears in World of Thedas, not with the canticles out of order like they are on the wiki, has anyone else done that?"

The longer version of this sounds even shorter, at first: I started playing Dragon Age games in March 2024, and I have ADHD.

Oh, and I'm a writer who's always been interested in game development, with dreams of maybe one day working in games or on video game IP. That helps shape my understanding of what games might need to accomplish, narratively, and the mechanisms they might use to accomplish those goals.

I was able to play all three games this summer. In fact, I finished Inquisition for the first time after Veilguard's first trailers this year, on June 26. What that means is that my first real experiences learning the finer lore of Dragon Age were all this year, and had the context of Veilguard's trailers. We knew we were getting a narrative followup to Trespasser, and so where did I center my focus? Trespasser. Everything I learned about Thedas, I tried to make sense in the context of Trespasser. Every piece of lore had to fit with Trespasser. Not just the environment of the Crossroads or the companions' banter, but what Trespasser was trying to teach us.

And most of its codices are about the Evanuris warring with the Titans. The Titans, who we'd just seen in Descent. The storytelling point of Trespasser was to make us question the nature and morality of Fen'Harel by giving us context about the Evanuris and their own history, then letting us ask for Solas' perspective on it.

That's the thing about Dragon Age. Very little of it is there pointlessly. Every level, every DLC, every codex, is there to teach you something. Even the smaller codices, which don't seem to mean anything tremendous, are there to teach you how to parse the voice of all the other codices. So even beyond the games, I asked myself: what is Tevinter Nights trying to teach me about how Thedas works? What is The Masked Empire teaching me? Is it the same? And what about World of Thedas, volumes 1 and 2, written from the perspective of Thedosian historians, deliberately written to misdirect the reader with the historians' biases?

Whatever I found had to work with what was promised in Veilguard: a controversial Solas. New understanding of the Evanuris. Harding's new magic. Regions of Thedas we never explored, and why those places would all matter.

Knowing the three act structure, as a writer, and knowing that ensemble casts all need to bring a puzzle piece of the grander theme into the main plot through their own personal quests, I had a vague skeleton of what I would need to find. The shape of the information I found would have to fit the world and the relationship dynamics advertised in the Veilguard. Origins would have to matter to the Veilguard; same with DA2; same with Inquisition. Despite the series being disconnected by featuring different leads, the worldbuilding is very much connected between instalments, and so Veilguard would have to be one logical step past everything that developed in Inquisition. (Nevermind a whole host of other criteria that honestly deserves its own post).

It's very hard to describe how the pattern recognition in some ADHD brains works. What I will say is... I noticed something. Every mistranslated elven codex where it deliberately says it has been mistranslated is an invitation for you, the player, to try and figure out what is correct. Everywhere that World of Thedas says that something must be preposterous to the historian narrating it is an invitation to ask yourself: could this be possible? How would that work?

Things like the linguistic overlaps between the elves and the dwarves are intentional. Words that are phonetically similar are far more often intentional than simple oversight. Every scrap of lore holds some significance.

Because in Thedas, every perspective is right, to some degree. Including the Chant of Light. Including ancient elvhenan. If you try and make them all reconcile with each other, and you've also done so in the context of the Veilguard, and you've also got ADHD and a near-photographic memory that is strongest with emotional memories and rules/systems? Well... You get me. You get 30,000 words of "one single picture of lyrium-spirit Solas cracked all of Thedas for me in the span of one mind-blown week while I power-read World of Thedas to check all my facts and essentially lived inside the Dragon Age wiki."

(AKA, you get Bellara in human form. Sorry, Bellara. It's rough out here. But now you, reader, know the reason that this blog was renamed nadas-dirthalen in late September—and why I, when I embraced my nonbinary identity, chose the name Lore for myself.)

And what was promised in Inquisition, as well as in Veilguard's marketing? The Evanuris, Titans, and the blight. They would all have to tie together—and they did.

What Did I Actually Get Right? (An Overview, Anyway)

I'm going to try and categorize this. Oh god. These are going to be such disorganized posts, but I want them done before much information comes out, so bear with me.

What I Got Right:

Solas and Mythal: Yep. He caused the blight; she made him do it. He created the Veil and wounded himself. They weren't romantic; they were trauma-bonded. She wasn't a paragon of good. They both tried to stop the blight anyway.

Sundered Spirits: The sweet, sweet vindication of learning that Dirthamen and Falon'Din were sundered all along. Thank you, BioWare. We also learned that this happened to the Titans (more on broader implications in the last category in this section).

Titan Stories In Elven: Bellara sang "Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras" and my heart soared. :) My ego swelled. :) That's all the confirmation I need right now that I hit the nail on the head with the elven lullabies and Solas' backstory.

The Chant of Light Told the Story of the Evanuris: The demons that would be gods. We know now that all the Evanuris manifested physically from their original spirit forms. The Chant called it.

Mythal, Andruil, and Ghilan'nain's Roles in the Blight: Mythal created it, but wanted it sealed away; Andruil found it again; Ghilan'nain made it grow and grow.

Taash, a little? I hypothesized that fire-breathers might come from the Scaled Ones or otherwise have been engineered by an Evanuris. I know they were engineered for the purpose of war, but not by whom (I... think. Needs a replay to confirm).

Davrin: Yes! Davrin was the one who connected that Solas feels responsible for specifically the blight and conveyed that to the rest of the team. He questioned the nature of the Grey Wardens and helped to choose a path forward without any archdemons left.

Harding: Yup. Titan connection. Yup, our narrative path to finding out about angered Titans.

"Do We Win?/Do We Stop the Blight?" Well, in Solas' good ending, we do get what I thought we would: the Evanuris all gone, the Titans on a path to restoration.

What I Definitely Did Not Get Right:

VARRIC?!?! When I said, "If you know, you know. Lyrium dagger, dwarf. If you don't know, close your eyes and pretend you read nothing" — GUYS I THOUGHT VARRIC WOULD GET MAGIC HE REALLY HATED AND I CRIED LIKE A BABY WHEN I SAW WHAT HAPPENED :(

Lucanis: I really thought Spite would be a Forgotten One. However, it's stated a few times that Spite is not a run-of-the-mill demon, and Lucanis is not your average abomination. I wonder if there's banter I'm missing, or if something will happen with that in DA5. Poisoned fruit, and all that.

Emmrich: I really thought Emmrich would do world-changing "give all the spirits back to the Titans" stuff. I think my error with most of the companions is that I forgot how much information actually can feasibly fit into a game without it being 300 hours long or melting the brains of its players.

Neve: Nothin' happened with gangue mentions, or Archon mentions! I was way, way off with Neve.

The Eclipse: It did not have anything to do with the Bird Boy Evanuris™ :( But Elgar'nan moving the sun and moon was badass as hell, and I honestly loved Elgar'nan far more than even my highest expectations.

What I Haven't Gotten Right... YET:

Bellara….?????? Guys I thought there was a Dirthamen connection and they put a codex in the game that says specifically that Dirthamen held a fondness for frogs, same as Bellara. And then they gave her a brother who... ya know... was... presumed... dead... AKA, on the other side of the Veil... for a while... And then they gave that brother a sundered piece of Bellara's own vallaslin. John Epler, where are you going with this please I wanna KNOW, the Bird Boys™ occupy my mind at all hours. (But also? Surprise Forgotten One mention with Bellara, and surprise Anaris mention specifically, and I'm going to pat myself on the back for being so oddly focused on Anaris in my predictions.)

Chant of Light Confirmations: I actually have yet to see a single Chant of Light verse in Veilguard. I think they're saving that one for later, keeping it up their sleeves for the next games. The needle didn't move with confirming/denying anything in the Chant except for the Evanuris as spirits that manifested into physical shape and then sought to conquer the Titans.

Titans-as-Forgotten-Ones: For a time, I thought they disproved me on this, showing Anaris as a spirit, the "eighth" while the "sixth and seventh" roamed free. Showing Anaris craving a body to wreak his evil (?) machinations upon the world. But then I got to thinking, and I realized: they never said the Forgotten Ones are spirits, they just showed one being a spirit. What did they say about spirits in general, or the Titans' relation to the Fade in general?

Titans-and-Fade Connection: I theorized that the Titans' consciousness is the Fade, and the Veil is what keeps them all sundered. I theorized that spirits are thoughts, either floating around in the Fade or held in lyrium. For a long time in Veilguard, I thought I was being disproven. Solas' memories don't say that the Veil sundered all Titans, and they don't say that Titans' consciousness is the Fade, either. But, as I went through Veilguard, I realized... they also didn't not say it. And that's when I knew.

I have to go digging again. And after 8.5 days, here's what I think I've got. It's a start, but a promising one.

Early Signs Veilguard Has Added to My Theories

Remember how I said that there are very few in things in Thedas that are there for no reason? Well, Veilguard has given us plenty of tie-ins to previous material already, just with the stuff I remember off-hand from the past week, no wiki entries to go by yet.

(Please bear in mind that I have had this game for 8 days and this is just barely scratching the surface of its content!)

Let me re-examine some of the things I mentioned above:

Titans-as-Forgotten-Ones

The Nadas Dirthalen's very first word is Sulahn'nehn. Remember how I said many things in Thedas are there intentionally, and that World of Thedas is a book made up of invitations to solve puzzles? This is no exception. World of Thedas states that, translated literally, this common word for "rejoice" actually means "sing again."

That word might be a rallying cry for the spirits of Titans who'd, I don't know... lost their song. A promise of plot to come, made a decade ago. Why else would they include that word, instead of anything more frequently used by characters/the fandom?

I also noticed: the Nadas Dirthalen looks to be contained in a lyrium crystal, specifically. We already know that lyrium is used to store memories! It may be that the Nadas Dirthalen, the inevitability of knowledge, was Anaris storing his knowledge and memories in an attempt to pre-empt the creation of the Veil. Nadas Dirthalen might be a promise: a promise that the Forgotten Ones will return to sing again, and that their knowledge and memories will guide them to victory.

But if I was going to hazard a guess that this is the case, I couldn't base my theory on just this line of dialogue.

Titans-and-Fade-Connection

First and foremost: Neve and a couple codices say that Solas' ritual to create the Veil went wrong. We all heard Solas cry out in pain at the moment of its creation!

Second: defeating one of the revenants, whose name is something like "The Slaughtered Pillars," made my ears perk up. I noticed in the combat with the Betrayal of Felassan that the dialogue lines are supposed to be Solas' regrets, given voice.

You wanna know what it says when you fight the Slaughtered Pillars?

"Light and song, stolen."

You wanna know what the Chant of Light refers to the Fade as? Three guesses. C'mon. :)))

That's right! Light! But why would the slaughtered pillars of the earth complain about their light AND song being stolen? Well—I'm guessing that their Light is the Fade; their consciousness. And without their consciousness, their dreams, all concept of isatunoll was lost to them.

When I heard this line, I threw out what I thought I had been told about the Forgotten Ones being spirits, not Titans. Now, I have a new idea (one that still needs verifying and much codex-reading): the Forgotten Ones are those sundered spirits that Solas severed from the Titans. The entire Fade being cut off from Thedas was an unintended consequence that hurt him as badly as it did the Titans he meant to put to sleep.

(We don't even know that he was in uthenera by choice, with how often he talks about being weakened.)

Suddenly, "Sing again," makes total sense as a rallying cry for Anaris and the Titans, both. I very much look forward to digging through the minutiae of every codex to see if I can find anything else that backs this up!

Terror/Horror Mentions

I need to really examine this one, ideally with the help of a wiki that doesn't quite exist yet for this game, to get all the exact lines. But I swear that fear is mentioned almost constantly in Solas' memories, and also a lot in conjunction with Anaris and with Harding's Titan.

I'm not letting go of my "Solas was crafted from Terror/Dread" theory. Not yet. Not yet.

Bellara and the Bird Boys™

I think BioWare's favourite game, at this point, is teasing us with sneaky little mentions of Dirthamen and Falon'Din. In Veilguard, we went to Zazikel's skeleton in the Cauldron. In Arlathan, owls were just... glowing. Everywhere. Why? I don't know! Rook also doesn't seem to know! But they mention it many times over, and that is always a cue for us to pay attention and ascertain why.

I don't know what Bellara's sneaky little connection to Dirthamen and Falon'Din could mean for the two sundered Evanuris. I don't know if it means that I'm right, and that Dirthamen escaped Fade Jail when Corypheus and the Magisters Sidereal entered the Black City. I don't know if it means that, when Dirthamen and Falon'Din died, their spirits fused back together (because... Mythal's didn't?).

I just know that this has worsened how I constantly search for the Bird Boys™ in everything. Something is happening here, I just need to figure out what.

What Do I Think This Means?

I think this means that BioWare are about to make good on their promise shown in the Poisoned Fruit post-credits scene. Dragon Age 5: Something Something Something Forgotten Ones, ooohhhh, spooky, Terror Terror Malice Fear Nightmare Time, Featuring Solas (reluctantly or gladly) Helping Heal the Titans. And did we mention that the Forgotten and the Forbidden Ones have always been more closely linked than most of the fanbase thought?

But I can only guess at that for now, and I've got some serious reading to do before I say anything more specific than that.

-----

As always, if you read this far, you're one of the real ones. This has been a jumbled mess of midnight thoughts, but I promise you this: I'm only just digging into Veilguard's finer workings. I'm only just starting to put its many pieces together.

And like every Dragon Age game, I can tell that there is something big lurking between the lines of every one. I just need to read something like 135 mementos and [redacted] codices from everywhere else several times over in order to figure out what it is.

But this is just Part One. I promise: the second it clicks for me, I'll write it all in a rambling frenzy for you, too.

It's still super up in the air, but I think for the next one, I might try and tackle What Dragon Age: the Veilguard Did Narratively—and What DA5's Story Will Likely Do to Follow. We'll see what happens to me 50, 100, or 200 codices from now. :)

[waveofthot]

-Wrapped around your finger-

Tendou x Reader

Warnings: None! All fluffy!!

This wasn't the first time Satori had brought you with him to practice. Under normal circumstances Coach Washijo would've never let anyone sit and watch, but he quickly found out that your presence acted as a sort of motivator for the middle blocker. So there you were, sat on the bench, quietly cheering for him.

Now usually, Satori would come over every now and again to grab a sip of water before running back, not forgetting to give you a small parting kiss... although... this time it seems he has other plans.

.

.

.

"Heyyyyyyyyyy..."he says dragging out the "y" way longer then he usually would.

"I was wondering if you could uhhh, help me wrap my fingers?"He said, sports tape in hand. Looking up at him it's hard to miss the reddish-pink hue dusted across his face.

"What? Can't do it yourself?". You tease while taking the roll of tape from his hand. And as Satori's face grows even redder, the eye contact you once had breaks as you grab the same hand still held out and start wrapping it up.

"No no, I can....I just-" a nervous cough escapes as he chokes out the rest of the sentence. "-kinda... I kinda wanted you to do it this time". He's finally looking back down at you as you finish up the first hand... Although this time it's your turn to turn red.

You stay quiet as you take his other hand and start winding the tape around his pointer and middle finger. His hands are large, way bigger then yours anyways, but despite that they're extremely slender, yet far from dainty. Your eyes follow the veins going up his arm, your hand subconsciously ghosting over them.

A small snicker brings you out of your trance and you feel his hand move to interlock with yours.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself... perhaps I should let you do this more often~" He says as he leans in, placing his lips on your cheek, and as he lets go of your hand you can't help but giggle at the stupid grin on his face as he runs back to the rest of the team.

Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

RAHHHH hello everybody! If you've read this far, I just wanna say thank you and I hope you liked it!!! (Despite it being so short lol)

I don't often write but I've kinda wanted to start, so if my posting pattern is off, please don't mind (��｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

I might make a new post to just kind of introduce myself to the fanfic community of tumblr...so a bit about myself, the fandoms I'm in and the kind of stories I like to write etc etc..... if anyone has any suggestions on what they'd like to read then feel free to let me know~~~

[thedreadpoetroberts]

You can be really smart and still have a learning disability.

You can be really smart and still have a learning disability.

You can be really smart and still have a learning disability.

[vivanightcity]

Wretched little tomato man

[auggieblogs]

freckle kisses ֶָ֢ | MV1

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

Author's note: Hello, lovelies!!! I hope everyone is doing good. This fic has been in my drafts for a while now and I finally had the motivation to edit it today. The Max brainrot is very real, I cannot stop thinking about his little freckle. He is so beautiful🥹. Anyways, I hope you all like this piece. Happy reading<3

ALSO fun fact, I have a freckle that's right below my lower lip jshshdjdhs I don't know I think it's a sign!!! (im delusional)

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

Max was used to the routine. Before the haze of sleep fully left him every morning, he would feel the soft, warm press of her lips against the tiny freckle on his upper lip. It was her unique ritual, a habit she had never skipped, and he had come to adore.

As the sun streamed through the blinds of their bedroom, she stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open. Without missing a beat, she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his freckle. Max smiled, his heart swelling with love.

"Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning, Maxie," she replied, her voice light and cheerful.

Every day followed this pattern. Whether Max was leaving for a race, taking a break between practice sessions, or they were about to make love, her lips always found that freckle. It was her little act of love, and Max never questioned it. He cherished it

One lazy Sunday afternoon, they were lounging in their living room, a movie playing in the background. She lay on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. Max absentmindedly played with her hair, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, snuggling closer.

Max felt her shift slightly, and there it was again. Her lips met his freckle in a gentle kiss before trailing a line of kisses up to his lips. "I love you," she mumbled softly against his skin.

"I love you too," Max replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

He paused momentarily, a curious look crossing his face, "Why do you always kiss my freckle?"

She looked up at him with a shy smile, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It's silly," she said.

Max tilted her chin up gently, his eyes searching hers. "It’s not stupid if it’s something you do," he said softly. "Tell me, please."

She took a deep breath before explaining, "Well, my mom used to tell me that freckles or moles are spots where lovers used to kiss you in past lives. She said they’re like beauty marks, little reminders of love."

Max's expression softened, a tender smile spreading across his face. "That's beautiful," he said, his voice filled with genuine emotion.

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I told you it was silly."

"It's not silly," Max replied, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. And I love you for it."

Her heart swelled with love as she looked at him, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone like Max in her life. "I love you too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the movie long forgotten.

Max chuckled softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "So, every time you kiss that freckle, it’s like you’re saying hello to my past lovers?" he teased.

She laughed, playfully swatting his chest. "Or maybe it’s just my way of marking my territory," she quipped back.

Max laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Well, consider it marked," he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

[bklynsboys]

The Theory on Other Halves

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: "there's an old buddhist saying, i once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making." genre: fluff word count: 1k author's notes: i wrote this because this particular line of spencer's is one of my absolute favorites! i think it's really beautiful how all of the people we love were meant to be in our lives since 500 years ago. and of course, as a fan of space & constellations, i had to insert it into this fic. enjoy <3

THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE AFTERMATH OF A PARTICULARLY BRUTAL CASE—TYPICAL FOR A DAY IN THE BAU. Dust specks danced in the pale slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Hotch decided it'd be best to give the team a few hours to rest in the motel before heading back home. If it were up to you, you'd be back in your bed as soon as humanly possible, but rooming with the resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid—the object of your unspoken affections—is an opportunity you wouldn't miss.

For months, the two of you have shared a silent dance of exchanged glances and shared interests. Your colleagues, particularly the girls whom you confided in, seemed to think it was mutual. Now, you sat across from each other on motel beds, a comfortable silence blanketing the room. You traced a thoughtful finger along the rim of your empty coffee cup.

"You have a constellation," he said softly, breaking the stillness.

Your gaze flicked to Spencer, then down to your arm where his hand had landed. A faint scattering of moles dotted the inside of your forearm, resembling a modicum of stars. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Looks like Ursa Major," he mused, tracing the pattern with his finger. "Though perhaps a little worse for wear, and without the usual bright light, of course."

You chuckled, mirroring his action on your arm. There, nestled just below your elbow, was a crescent moon birthmark, a surprise you always enjoyed revealing.

"Here's another one," you offered.

He turned his hand, examining the crescent with a childlike curiosity. " It's beautiful," he said simply.

"Did you know," Spencer added softly, his voice barely a murmur, "that the ancient Greek saw Ursa Major as a bear?"

You tilted your head, surprised by the random fact. " A bear?"

A smile played on his lip. " Apparently, the constellation's asterism resembled the animal to them. Makes you wonder what they saw in the night sky that we don't."

"Well, my mom had a different take on that," you began, a fond memory surfacing. " She used to say my moon and stars meant I'd meet a space nerd someday who'd love these marks, and we'd be orbiting each other, kind of like the Earth and the sun. She was into soulmates, you see, and space."

The conversation flowed easily, a map of your bodies sketched through shared stories. You pointed to a jagged scar on your knee, the fading memory of you running around and ending up with a scrape on your knee. He, in turn, showed you the faint line on his palm, a souvenir from a particularly enthusiastic attempt at a science experiment as a child.

Your fingers trailed down the faint scar near his hairline, so faint one wouldn't notice it if they weren't looking at Spencer's face intently. "What's this from?" you asked gently.

Spencer chuckled. " You know, how I have really bad coordination?" He sighed. " I was lost in a book, I ran straight into a doorpost. My mom called me 'Crash' after that."

You squeezed his hand gently, a silent understanding passing between you. You knew how much Spencer cherished his mom, especially with her health declining. Sharing stories about her felt like a tender offering of his vulnerability.

He returned the gesture, his thumb tracing the faint outline of a mango-shaped birthmark on your back. " My mom swears it's from all the mangoes she craved while pregnant," you said with a laugh, remembering your childhood debates about the science behind birthmarks.

As the night wore on, your exploration became a conversation without words. You ended up curled up on one bed. You ran your fingers over the slight dip in his lower back, a lingering ache from a wrestling match between an unsub gone wrong. He skimmed his thumb across the freckle dusting your shoulder, a map of sun-drenched summer days.

There was no urgency, no pressure. Just a quiet appreciation for the way your bodies, like your minds, fit together, like puzzle pieces worn from being fitted together—entangled from experiences, both big and small. In the faint intimacy, you found a deeper connection, a comfort that transcended beyond just physical.

Suddenly, Spencer spoke, his voice soft. " Maybe your mom was right, you know."

"Right about what?" You murmured, head tilting at the man's question.

His gaze met yours, a thoughtful crease furrowing his brow. " About finding your soulmate," he said hesitantly. " There's an old Buddhist saying, I once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."

A thoughtful hum escaped your lips. " That's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered.

He continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Plato once wrote humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces, but Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half."

A soft blush crept up your neck. You hadn't expected such a personal turn in the conversation.

"Plato," you murmured, surprised." The one who wasn't a big fan of the soulmate idea, right?"

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile.

"True," he admitted. "But even a brilliant mind like his couldn't deny the undeniable pull we sometimes feel towards certain people. Maybe the Greeks weren't so far off . Maybe the stars, the constellations, these little imperfections on our skin... Maybe they all tell us a story of where we belong."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You found yourself captivated by the way the moonlight glinted in his eyes.

"So," you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "are you saying we're destined to be wandering halves searching for the other?"

Spencer shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "No," he said, his voice a smooth cadence. " Maybe... Maybe we already found each other."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken sentiments. The air crackled with a tension that both terrified and exhilarated you. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat to the quiet reverberation of the night. Curled beside him, Spencer's arm draped casually across you, its weight a comforting presence, you drifted off to sleep.

A faint smile touched Spencer's lips as he listened to your soft snores. "Good night," he whispered into the darkness.

[latin5mamii]

warm.

warnings: long chapter but i think you like them

genre: fluff, cuddle session

summary:A cuddle session with your needy boyfriend is just more than enough.

author's note:I know i've been inactive these days but with school and everything it's just impossible😔...but here you go this fluffy and comforting one -shot that i hope you'll like! If you have any other fluff idea about Jude or any other player that i write for please let me know!🤍 ( i need to write fluff these days...)Plus please don't ask about the third pic please...

·　　•　　　·　　　.　　　　　　　　　·　　　.　°　　　★　.　　·　　　 　　　•　·　　°　　　·☆.　*✷　✶°　　　*　　　°　•　　　✯　　　　　 •　*　　**　.　　　.°　　°　　°　　　.　　　　.*　.　　　　　　　　

“C’mere,” Jude murmured, his arms open wide, just for you.

You stood in the doorway, watching him sprawled out on the bed, his head propped up on one arm, the other patting the empty spot beside him. His eyes met yours, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Without a word, you walked over, crawling under the covers next to him. Before you could fully settle in, he was already pulling you close. His arms wrapped snugly around your waist, pulling you against his chest, your legs tangling under the blankets.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of him immediately soothing.

Jude chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Good, because you’re always cold,” he teased, his fingers tracing slow patterns across your back. “You’re like a little human ice block.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your knee. “Rude.”

“Just being honest,” he said with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “But lucky for you, I’m always warm, so it works out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the kind where no words were needed. His fingers continued their lazy journey along your spine, the rhythm of his breathing steady and soothing.

After a few moments, you felt him shift beneath you, his hand sliding down to your hip as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Missed you today,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His words were soft, almost like an afterthought, but they made your heart swell. You smiled against his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

“I missed you too,” you murmured back, your voice quiet, almost as if you didn’t want to disturb the peaceful bubble that had formed around the two of you. You shifted a little, resting your head more comfortably against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It was a rhythm you had grown to love, one that never failed to calm you.

Jude’s arms tightened around you ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t hold on just a little closer. His hand moved up to your hair, fingers threading through the soft strands in gentle strokes. You could feel the quiet affection in his touch—unhurried and patient, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

You melted at his touch, leaning into him as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, soft and lingering. There was something about the way Jude kissed you, like he had all the time in the world, like nothing else mattered but the moment you were in.

His lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving a series of gentle kisses that made your heart race just a little faster. You sighed contentedly, your fingers slipping into his curls, twirling the soft strands between your fingertips.

“You always do that,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

“Do what?” you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“That,” he breathed, his hand sliding down to your hip, his thumb gently tracing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “You play with my hair when you think I’m asleep.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers stilling for a moment before brushing another curl away from his forehead. “I like the way it feels,” you admitted, your voice quiet, almost shy.

Jude hummed, a deep sound of contentment vibrating through his chest. “I like when you do it,” he whispered, his lips brushing the skin just below your jaw. “Feels nice.”

You smiled against his skin, your fingers continuing their gentle motions. Jude’s thumb sketched lazy circles on your hip, and you could feel his breathing slow, as if he was on the edge of falling asleep. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from him. Your fingers continued their slow dance through his hair, your mind wandering to how easy this felt, being wrapped up in him, his presence always so steady and reassuring.

After a while, Jude’s voice broke the silence again, this time softer, almost like he wasn’t fully awake. “Stay like this… don’t move.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, leaning in to press a kiss against his collarbone.

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening just a fraction around you, as if he wanted to keep you even closer than you already were. It was in moments like this that you realized how much he craved the quiet, the stillness.

“I mean it,” he murmured after a beat, his voice low and drowsy. “Don’t want to fall asleep if you’re not here.”

You smiled at his words, feeling the warmth in your chest grow even more. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but it never failed to tug at your heart. Jude had a way of making the simplest moments feel like they held the entire world. His need for you wasn’t loud or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like the beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated softly, shifting slightly to tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes were half-closed, his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, and his lips were curled into that soft, lazy smile you adored.

He blinked slowly, eyes barely open, but you could still see the glint of affection in them. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb resuming its slow, rhythmic circles on your hip. “Because if you did, I’d have to chase you down.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest at the thought. “You? Chase someone down? You can barely get out of bed in the morning.”

Jude huffed, his sleepy smile widening into a grin. “I’d chase you for sure. Might take me a while, but I’d get there eventually.”

You giggled, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a playful gleam in your eyes. “Oh yeah? How long do you think it’d take you?”

He squinted as if he were seriously considering the question, his fingers still idly tracing patterns along your back. “Depends on how fast you’re running. If you’re sprinting, maybe an hour. If you’re walking, I’d say… ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? You think I’m that slow?” You gasped in mock offense, gently poking him in the side.

Jude’s body shook with quiet laughter as he caught your hand and pulled it to his chest, keeping it there. “Nah, it’s not that you’re slow, it’s just that I’d be really motivated. I’d catch you quicker than you think.”

“Oh, so you’d be fast for me?” you teased, your smile widening as you watched the way his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“For you? I’d be unstoppable,” he replied with a sleepy confidence, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Nothing could keep me from catching you.”

You felt a soft blush rise to your cheeks at his words, and you buried your face back into the crook of his neck to hide it. Jude always knew how to say the right thing, even when he was half-asleep. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled into his skin, your lips brushing against his collarbone.

“And you love it,” he teased, his voice low and warm.

You smiled against his neck. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Definitely,” he said with a lazy grin, and you could feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest. “You definitely love it.”

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Jude had a way of getting under your skin, but in the best possible way. He was right—you did love it. You loved the way he teased you, the way he made you laugh, the way he held you like you were something precious. It was all so easy with him, so natural.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, your voice muffled by his neck.

He chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “I know. That’s why I get away with so much.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you admit it? You know you get away with stuff?”

Jude gave you an exaggeratedly innocent look, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin. “Who, me? I’m an angel.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “An angel, huh? You’re more like a menace.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d wounded him. “A menace? That’s harsh. I’m deeply offended.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled at the sight of him being so playful, so at ease. Moments like this, where it was just the two of you tangled up in each other, teasing and laughing, made you realize how lucky you were to have him. He made everything better, even the quiet moments.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a menace,” you conceded, resting your head back on his chest. “But you’re definitely not an angel either.”

“I’ll take that,” Jude murmured, his hand drifting back to your hair, his fingers resuming their gentle strokes. “As long as you’re here, you can call me whatever you want.”

 You didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t need to fill the silence with more teasing or banter. Just being here with him was enough ,more than enough.

·　　•　　　·　　　.　　　　　　　　　·　　　.　°　　　★　.　　·　　　 　　　•　·　　°　　　·☆.　*✷　✶°　　　*　　　°　•　　　✯　　　　　

[talaok]

The final jump

Pairing: Step-dad!Joel Miller x Step-daughter!reader

Summary: When your stepdad finds out you and your boyfriend haven't had sex yet, he tells you the reason is that you're a virgin, but thankfully... he can help with that.

Warnings: step-incest, manipulation, straight-out lying, hence dub-con, Perv!Joel, predatory behavior, very very naive and innocent reader |Smut| fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), virginity loss, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, dacryphilia, and daddy-kink. Joel is a full-on perv in this one ok, don't say I didn't warn ya, 

a/n: this is wrong and weird and for the first time since i opened this blog, i actually doubted whether i should post something or not, but at the end of the day this is all fake and i do not condone in any way what's portrayed in this fic. And please for the love of god read the warnings and just scroll if you don't like what you see.

Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4

"c'mere" he instructed, pulling you into his lap like he always did when Mom wasn't around.

"there's nothing wrong with this" he had explained the first time it happened "Your mom just doesn't need to know about everything"

You nestled your head into the crook of his neck as you continued watching the movie, while his hands settled around your waist and onto your naked thigh.

He always made you wear skirts when you were alone, he even bought you some, and each time they got shorter. Once, you had asked him why, and as always, he had an explanation

"It's good for your skin, sweetheart, your legs need to breathe"

The one you were wearing right now, for example, a very cute baby pink one, barely covered your butt, which must have meant it was very healthy for your skin.

And then of course for the same exact reason, when Mom wasn't home, bras were banned, and you could only wear small tank tops, preferably very low cut and that let your stomach breathe.

You didn't mind the rules Joel had given you, you trusted him, and he knew what was better for you.

Plus, you would have been lying if you said you didn't like all the attention he gave you, even if it was just when you were alone. You loved how much he obviously cared about you, and you loved even more letting him take care of you.

You had never had a dad, unless you count the first three months of your life before your real dad decided to split, so now that you had such a good step-dad, you felt on top of the world, and even if you were 18, you didn't mind being taken care of like no dad ever had.

If he had offered to read you bedtime stories to get you to sleep, you would have probably accepted just to see what you had missed out on, that's how desperate you were.

You wrapped your hands around his neck, clinging to his warm self, and letting his scent wrap around you in the best way.

"You comfortable?" he asked, as his fingers gently drew patterns on your legs

"yes daddy"

Oh, that's right. Calling him daddy was another rule, if not the most important one.

"good" he said, kissing the crown of your head 

Ghostface appeared behind Tara on the screen, and you tightened your hold on him a little bit.

"You scared, babygirl?"

"'m not scared daddy, I've watched this movie like ten times" you giggled

"What a brave girl" he cooed "You're not scared of anything huh?"

"no 'm scared of lots of things daddy, just not horror movies"

"ah that's right" he murmured "You're still scared of spiders, aren't you pretty girl?"

"Well of course" you nodded "but I have you to get rid of them"

"of course you do" he smiled, pulling your legs closer to him by the back of your knees, and making you beam happily.

Your whole backside was exposed now, making you blush a little bit.

You knew there was nothing wrong with this, but you still felt a little insecure about showing so much of yourself to Joel.

He didn't seem to notice as his hand went right to the newly revealed skin.

His hands always felt good against you, in a way you had never quite experienced, they were so big... and so rough, and oh so warm. If you could, you'd let him touch you all day every day.

Suddenly, a ching ran through the room, startling you.

Joel's soft chuckle vibrated through his chest and into yours.

"Not scared huh?"

"I just wasn't expecting that" you whined, removing your hands from him to reach onto the coffee table.

You had to stretch your whole body to do that, giving Joel a full view of your white cotton panties, and what they were trying to cover.

If Joel's cock was hard before, it was now quickly reaching the painfully hard territory.

"Oh sweetie" he tutted, as you grabbed the phone.

"what?" you asked, a tint of panic in your tone.

"it's just these panties..." he trailed off, as his fingers reached for them "This fabric is not good for you darlin'"

"These too?" you asked, a tad disappointed.

It seemed none of the panties you owned were ever good for your skin.

"Yes babygirl," he shook his head "here, let me help you, I'll take them off for you" he said, starting to gently drag them down your legs.

"but daddy-"

"what?" he stopped "I'm just looking out for you sugar, I just want you to be real healthy"

"A-alright" you nodded "I-if you say so"

"There's no need to be shy, babygirl, I'm your daddy, I only do what's best for you" he promised, tugging your underwear until they pooled at your knees.

Joel had to bite down a groan at the sight of your perfect little pussy.

"I know," you said, swallowing slowly 

"Tell you what," he spoke, "I think it's best from now on if you just don't wear any panties when we're alone alright?"

"Sure daddy" you agreed "Can I sit back down now?"

"Of course" he urged, bringing you back into his lap, and slowly taking off your panties completely.

You checked your phone to see who had texted you, already forgetting about what had just happened, when Joel noticed something as he inspected your pretty little panties.

"These are wet babygirl," he said, holding them up for you to see.

your cheeks flushed a little bit as you looked up from your phone.

"Is-Is that bad?"

What if the fabric of your panties was so bad that it made you sick?

You hated being sick

The expression on his face was unreadable, he was looking at you differently.

"Does this happen to you a lot?" he asked, ignoring your question

"O-only sometimes...when I'm with you" you whispered "A-am I sick daddy?"

And then he did the last thing you were expecting, he smiled "no" he shook his head "You're not sick sweetie"

"oh" you breathed, relieved "then what is it?"

"It jus' means you like spendin' time with me a lot"

"Well of course I do" you giggled, looking back at your phone.

Joel watched you for a moment more, your face so innocent... too pretty for your own good, before pocketing the panties to add to his collection.

He didn't understand how you still hadn't noticed half your underwear had disappeared from its drawer.

"who was it?" he asked, once he had placed his hands on your ass, and on your inner thigh, feeling the warmth of your core closer and closer to his fingers.

"Just Chad" you answered "he's asking if I can hang out with him tomorrow night"

"mh" he considered.

He never liked Chad much

"This Chad" he started "he's good to you right?"

"Yes daddy" you stifled a laugh "You don't have to ask me every time I bring him up"

"Jus' wanna make sure" he shrugged "You're being safe and everything?"

"what do you mean?" you frowned "I don't think there's anything risky about going out to eat once in a while"

"now that's not what I meant babygirl" he smirked 

"oh" you breathed "what did you mean then?"

"I meant to ask if you're usin' protection"

"Protection?" your frown just deepened.

You lived in Austin Texas, not the Wild West, protection from what, mosquitoes?

"Yeah protection, sugar" he nodded

"From what?" you asked, more confused than ever.

"oh baby girl" he laughed softly, leaning back onto the couch "condoms. You use condoms?"

And in an instant, your face had turned red.

"Oh, I- We- I haven't- we didn't-" 

That's all you could muster from your flustered state.

Joel's amusement left his face in a second to make space for something... else.

He had prompted this subject just to see you all embarrassed, and hear you talk about what he dreamed of doing every night with you, but this... this had just gotten interesting.

"you haven't done it?" he asked

It took a moment before you finally managed to shake your head no.

His grip on your thigh got tighter

"why's that?"

Your teeth let go of your bottom lip so you could respond.

"I-I don't know"

All it took was another look at you, at your big blown-out eyes, at your red cheeks, and it all came together.

"sweetheart," he said gently "are you a virgin?"

Your forehead creased again in puzzlement.

"w-what's that?"

His lips pulled into a smirk, and you watched each muscle on his face with curiosity.

"Oh baby" he smiled "I mean have you ever had sex?"

Your chest was rising and falling so quickly that you wondered how long it would take for you to hyperventilate.

The redness of your skin had now spread to your ears and neck too.

"I-I" you mumbled, avoiding his eyes

"Sweetie" he cooed, gently guiding your face to look up at him "You can tell me"

You gulped, looking into his hazel eyes.

Oh, how stupid you were being. Of course you can tell daddy.

"No" you slowly shook your head.

"Ah" he hummed "then that's why"

"That's why what?" you asked

Now, a good man would have stopped there, a good man would have dropped this right there... but good men didn't fantasize about their step-daughters, good men didn't come up with rules to watch them walk around the house half naked, good men didn't pull their panties down just to catch a glimpse of what they'd been dreaming of for months, and Joel, well Joel was already going to hell, so why not make the final jump.

"That's why Chad hasn't had sex with you"

"W-what?"

He wet his lips, not thinking about anything else but how good that pretty cunt of yours must feel around his cock.

"No guy wants to be a girl's first, babygirl" he murmured, stroking your cheek.

"Really?" your eyes widened at the realization "but- why?"

"lots of reasons sweetie" he explained "girls tend to... get attached"

"oh" your perfect mouth created the cutest little o

"yeah baby" he nodded "I'm sorry"

Your eyes were starting to water, and your throat was getting clogged up

"but then... who's ever gonna want to make love to me?"

make love? god you were so innocent

"you want Chad to make love to you, pretty girl?"

You were pouting so cutely Joel's heart was starting to break a little bit.

"I mean- maybe... I don't know" you murmured, tears falling from your eyes now "but he's never gonna want to now!" you sobbed

He wiped away your tears with his thumb before bringing you closer to his chest, giving you a big tight hug.

"It's ok sugar, shh" he calmed you down.

"H-how is he ever gonna want to make love to me?" you asked, raising your doe eyes to him.

And there it was, his free pass to the flames of hell.

"Well, there is a way," he said gently

"W-what?" you stumbled over your words

"I could help you out" he spoke

"H-how?"

His eyes darted from your watery eyes to your pretty pink mouth.

"I could be your first"

Your heart missed a beat.

"Y-you?"

"Yeah sweetheart, that way you can tell Chad you're not a virgin, and he'll for sure want to make love to you "

Your eyes sparked up

"Really?" you beamed "Y-you'd do that for me?"

"Of course" he promised, "What else are daddies for?"

"Oh thank you, daddy!" You threw your arms around him to hug him like your life depended on it "You're the best"

He grinned into your hair, thanking every existing being for having granted him such a gift: you.

"oh sweetheart, trust me it's you who's the best" he murmured.

You leaned away, a smile from ear to ear plastered on your face "So-uhm- How does this work?"

He smiled at your eagerness

"Well, first of all, we gotta get on a bed" he explained "so wrap your arms and legs around me and hold on tight baby girl"

"Like this?" you asked, after obliging

"Perfect" he nodded before standing up from the couch.

A soft whimper fled your mouth as he made you bounce a little bit to set you better on his body.

"Calm down sweetie, I'm here" he cooed, starting to walk up the stairs, and before you realized, you were in your room.

"why didn't we go to your room?" you wondered aloud

"I just like yours better" he dismissed your question as he settled you on the bed.

You looked around the walls and posters and floor you knew so well and then back at him.

You didn't think he'd ever been in here before, and it was such a weird image.

he looked so out of place in such a girly space.

"and now?" you asked, looking up at him expectantly.

He smirked "Now we take off these pretty clothes of yours"

"O-oh, alright" you nodded, watching as he kneeled in front of you.

His hands went to your tank top first, slowly seeping underneath it before taking it off of you.

A small groan left his throat, and you observed how his eyes focused on your breasts.

"I-is there something wrong?" 

"No, sweetie, I'm just real happy to help you, 's all"

You smiled cheerfully at that.

He was always so nice.

"Now we gotta take off this skirt" he explained, gently pulling it down for you until it pooled at your feet.

You didn’t think you'd ever seen Joel smile so wide.

"Good God baby girl" he breathed, taking each and every inch of you in like you were a piece of art in a museum "You're real pretty, you know that?"

Your cheeks reddened as your lips pulled into a shy smile.

"T-thank you" you mumbled

He stroked your thighs a little, but way too soon he was standing up.

He reached into his back pocket for something, and a moment later his phone was in his hand.

You watched as he swiped somewhere on the screen and then took a step back to make sure the camera didn't miss any part of you.

"What are you doing?" you asked, curious more than anything.

"Takin' some pictures"

"Oh," you murmured "W-why?"

"Don't worry baby, 's just me" he reassured you, now stepping closer to you again to caress your cheek softly, making you forget all about your worries.

"Do you think you could pose for me a little?"

"sure" you nodded, wanting to please him however you could.

"Such a good girl" he praised more to himself "Lay down for me mh?"

You immediately did, scooting more onto the bed and resting your back on the mattress.

"Spread your legs now" he instructed, loving the way you so easily obeyed.

You heard a soft click as he took another picture from right between your legs.

"Very good" he said "Now smile a lil', show me how happy you are Daddy's helping you out" 

You did of course, and this time he moved his phone a little upward so your face was more in the frame.

"now c'mere again" he said, urging you with two of his fingers.

You sat at the edge of the bed, right in front of him.

"so obedient..." he smirked, as he stroked your cheek "suck on my fingers sweetie" he ordered, slowly pushing his index and middle finger past your lips.

You were very very confused about this pose, but chose not to question it.

"Look at me" he instructed, and you watched his grin widen as he took the photo.

"You did real good honey" he spoke, placing his phone on your nightstand.

"Thank you daddy" you beamed, as he kneeled before you again.

A question came to you while he did

"Is Chad gonna take pictures too?" 

A tint of jealousy flashed behind his eyes

"No," he said firmly "and if he tries, you take his phone and throw it away, ok?"

"O-ok" you nodded.

"Now" he seemed to get back to himself "How 'bout you lay down and let me take care of you?"

"S-sure" you stuttered, lying down again.

You raised your head to look at him as he slowly spread your legs.

You felt very much on display, but you weren't embarrassed, you knew Joel only had good intentions.

Suddenly, he bent down to kiss you right on your mound.

You let out a gasp

He looked up at you, a devilish smile plaster on his face as his lips traveled lower, now finding your clit.

"Daddy!" you gasped again.

"what is it baby girl, it don't feel good?"

"N-no it just feels..."

You honestly had no idea how to describe how it felt.

"How?" he insisted

"tingly" you murmured

He smirked, kissing your clit again just to taunt you

"That's good baby" he explained "It means you're enjoying this"

"Oh- really?" you asked, wide-eyed 

"Really" he confirmed, before abruptly licking a long stripe of your pussy, and forcing your gasp to soon convert into a moan.

Oh, he definitely liked hearing that.

And the moment he decided on that, he started quite literally devouring your cunt, feeding off of it like it was the source of eternal youth.

"Oh my god" you started chanting in a high pitch, as your legs got a life of their own at the feeling.

You were losing yourself in the feeling when, suddenly, you felt something probing at your... entrance, and you whimpered in surprise.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" you asked, as your hands grabbed the covers for something to hold onto.

He fought the urge to ignore you and do what needed to be done.

"Imma put a finger inside of you now ok?" he explained as sweetly as he could, desperately trying to hide his frustration.

His cock was begging for some sort of relief, and you were only slowing him down.

"a-a finger?" you breathed "W-why?"

"Because I need to make sure this pretty little pussy of yours can take all of daddy"

You scrunched your nose, making a face

"What?" he asked

"I don't like that word"

"What word?" he asked "pussy?"

"mh-mh" you nodded

He couldn't help but laugh a little "What would you rather I call it?" he murmured mockingly,(only of course you didn't realize) "Your tootie?"

"I'm not a kid" you giggled " I haven't called it that since I was-"

Your words died in your throat once his middle finger plunged into your heat.

Your mouth parted in shock, but no sound came out.

"real good sweetie" he praised you, bending down again to suck on your bud, as he started moving his finger in and out of you.

"Daddy!" you cried, at the feeling

"I know, I know" his tone was loaded with false empathy "Now stay still for me alright?"

But before you had time to ask why, another one of his fingers had made its way inside of you.

"Daddy wha-" your own sentence was interrupted by a moan "You said you were gonna put only one finger in!" you protested

"I know baby girl" he whispered against your heat, sending a shiver up your spine "but I know what's best for you, don't I?"

Of course he did

"mh-mh" you nodded

"Good girl" he praised, not missing the way your walls tightened around him at the praise "How does it feel?"

"I-it hurts a little" you winced, 

"mh" he considered "that's because no one had touched you down here before" he spoke in between licks to your clit "Not even yourself right?"

"n-no" you answered in a breathy whisper.

"good," he said mostly to himself "And how does it feel now?" he asked, curling his fingers into your g-spot.

Your back arched from the bed

"b-better" 

He kept doing that, making you gasp and squirm under him until...

"and how 'bout now?"

A third finger intruded your hole, making you cry out so loud the neighbors probably heard.

"daddy!" you whined as your eyes watered "T-that hurt, why would you do that?"

"oh sweetie... I needed to do that" he cooed, watching your pussy struggling to stretch around his fingers "If you wanna take daddy's cock you need to be able to take three of my fingers at least"

"t-that's a lot" you sobbed

"Oh I know" he murmured "but you did it like a good girl" he kissed your clit as a reward, "Now all you gotta do is relax and come around daddy's fingers"

"b-but I've never done that, I-I don't know how to-"

"shh" he shushed you, moving his fingers inside your warm cunt as he leaned down again to put his tongue to use "Just relax for me sweetie"

And so you did, you closed your eyes and fell back onto the bed as you tried adjusting to his fingers and the feeling they were bringing with them.

You had no idea what was happening to you, you'd heard some of your friends talk about sex, and you did a few lessons in sex ed, but you never really got it... and this was very different from what you were expecting.

Joel's hands were gripping your thighs to keep your legs apart, and when he curled his fingers inside of you again, a pang of pure pleasure took over you, and as a deep moan left your mouth, your left hand got a life of its own and found Joel's hair, gripping it tightly.

He groaned into your cunt and a strange feeling started pooling down your belly.

"Oh god" you whimpered "Daddy- I-"

He started going even faster, the squelching of his fingers plunging into your core filling the whole room as you cried out louder and louder.

"I-I think it's h-happening" you breathed "W-what do I do?" you moaned "D-daddy?"

He was lost in the thought of how good your walls were gonna feel as they tightened around his cock instead of his fingers, but as you cried again, he came back to earth.

"Let go sweetheart" he urged, watching your face contort in all sorts of expressions and bashing in the knowledge that it was him who was provoking them "Be a good girl and come for daddy"

And with that, your eyes snapped open to glimpse at him before every cell in your being exploded and rearranged itself inside of you as you came.

"You did good" he spoke as you tried calming your breathing "you did real good baby" he nodded, as he took his fingers out of you and stared at your pussy like it was a piece of art.

"t-thank you" You gave him a shy smile, as your hands dropped to your sides.

"but now you're gonna have to do even better" he started, as he got up "Can you do that for me? Can you be good?" he asked, as he took off his t-shirt and started undoing his pants.

A tint of fear made its way into your excitement, but you didn't let it show.

"Of course Daddy" you eagerly answered "I'll be good"

"you sure?" he arched his brow as his pants fell to his feet and all that remained on his body was a black pair of boxers with a very big tent probing in the front.

"I-I'm sure" you nodded "I'll be good for you"

"good" his lips pulled into a proud line and then finally, he took his boxers off, and an involuntary little gasp came out of your mouth.

"it's nothing to be scared off sweetheart" he chuckled "Here, why don't you touch it"

You gulped as you raised yourself into a seated position, coming eye-to-eye with his scarily big penis.

You looked up at him for approval and he he offered you an encouraging nod, so you slowly raised your index finger, and gently pressed it again his red tip.

You let your finger graze his whole length, feeling every vein and curve of his manhood, and before you could do it again his voice interrupted.

"don't be scared, wrap your hand around it" he urged, watching as you slowly obeyed "Jus' like that" he said, his voice deeper now "go up and down now" 

you did, and you were fascinated by the feeling of his dick twitching in your palm and his skin rubbing against yours.

One of his hands reached the back of your head impatiently as you admired his length, urging you closer.

"use your mouth baby" he breathed heavily.

You slowly leaned closer and met your lips with his tip, leaving a little kiss on it.

He couldn't help but chuckle "Open it, sweetie," he said, looking down at you as you abided "Stick your tongue out for me" 

You did, and before you knew it, his penis was filling your mouth.

"Now suck" 

You hollowed your cheeks as best as you could and suddenly, his hand in your hair started guiding more and more of him into your mouth, until his tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged loudly as a tear ran down your cheek.

"that all you can take?" he watched you "We're gonna have to work on that, 'm not even halfway in baby" he smirked to himself, before retracting his hips and leaving your mouth empty.

Before you had the time to ask what he meant by that, he'd already given you another order.

"lay down"

You found your initial position again, and in a moment, he had grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed.

One of his hands was gripping his dick as he looked right in your eyes 

"Stay still" 

that's all he said, before he started pushing his huge cock into you.

"Ah!" You cried as you felt your hole stretch and burn and hurt all at the same time.

"Shhh" he shushed you, not listening as he continued to push.

"d--daddy it hurts"

"It's supposed to hurt" he lied "Now relax"

And you tried, you really tried, but once another inch of him invaded you, you moved away, or at least, tried to, since his hands started gripping you tighter, giving you no chance to move.

"I told you to stay still" he sounded angry, and you didn't want daddy to be angry, but it hurt so much.

Tears pooled in your eyes and your voice broke as you spoke.

"I-I'm sorry Daddy" a sob climbed up your throat "b-but it's too big"

I don't give a fuck if it hurts, just stay still, he thought, but of course, he couldn't say that.

"Daddy's just tryna help you baby" he cooed "Do you want Chad to make love to you?" he asked, earning a nod from you "Then you have to stop moving and let me put my cock inside of you, ok?"

You sniffled as other tears fell from your eyes "O-ok"

He pushed inside of you again and your cries only got more pathetic.

now if it were up to him he would have already forced his cock inside of you, ignoring your whines and enjoying seeing you cry from how big he was but... if he ever wanted this to happen again, he needed to be gentle with you unfortunately.

"here" he said, pushing his thumb past your lips "suck on it sweetie, that 'll calm you down"

You did as told, and even if it still hurt like hell, it did take your mind off of it a little.

"we're almost there" he promised, watching you take more and more of his cock "Just a little more and-" 

"Good God" he breathed, taking a moment to memorize every inch of your walls and the way they felt around him.

"you feel so fucking good baby" he groaned, his head falling to his chest a moment at the feeling.

You felt better than he could have ever fucking imagined.

"I'm gonna start moving now"

He retracted his hips and noticed with a sick enjoyment the blood covering his dick before thrusting into you so harshly that even if your mouth was busy, the cry you let out could be heard perfectly.

"such a crybaby" he cooed, thrusting into you particularly harshly just to hear you cry again for him.

He watched the tears fall from your eyes as he started finding his pace.

And slowly, oh so slowly, you started adjusting, and from the pain, came the pleasure, pleasure so strong it felt like it could kill you.

"fuck you're tight" he grunted, "look at you" his eyes alternated between your eyes and where your body met his "Taking all of daddy's cock so well" he groaned "Being so good" he hissed, as he fastened his pace "fuck-tell me how it feels baby, tell me how good daddy's making you feel"

His thumb left your mouth and a brutal moan left it with it.

"tell me" he urged you again, gripping your waist.

"'s so good" you whimpered while gripping the sheets "You feel so good, Daddy"  

"yeah?" he smirked, as a drop of sweat trailed his forehead 

"yes Daddy" you promised before one of his hands found your core and started circling your clit.

"Daddy!" you cried

"what is it baby, 's too much?"

"mh-mh" you nodded as your eyes threatened to spill again 

"it's ok, daddy's here" he cooed, "you trust me, don't you?"

"I-I do"

"then relax"

You swallowed thickly and you did as told, trying to calm your racing heart as your breathing got more and more ragged.

"daddy?" you whimpered, looking up at him with doe eyes

"yeah, sweetheart?"

"could you... could you kiss me please?" 

A smug smirk pulled at his lips "You want me to kiss you?"

"Yes please"

"you sure?"

"yes, daddy please!" you begged now, more desperate, and before you knew it, he'd bent down and his lips were on yours while his tongue was in your mouth.

He let out a low groan at how fucking heavenly you felt, while you tasted all of him like you were starving.

He was such a good kisser...

And right as he pulled away and whispered "fuck you're perfect" the same feeling that he'd given you with his fingers erupted all over again.

A low chant of daddy left your mouth and as you squeezed him so fucking good and so fucking tight Joel couldn't do anything but follows suit, emptying his balls inside your tight cunt and ruining you definitively.

Fuck it, he was gonna buy you a plan B tomorrow, and if that didn't work he'd just blame it on Chad.

"Jesus" he muttered, as he pulled out and fell next to you on the bed.

Both your chests were rising and falling way too quickly.

You turned to him, and when he noticed, he did the same.

"thank you so much daddy" you murmured, nestling closer to him and kissing his cheek.

"no worries baby" he smiled, putting an arm around you to keep you closer as he kissed your forehead "You did good"

"thank you" you blushed

"but y'know..." he cocked an eyebrow "guys like girls with a little experience"

"Really?" you asked, wide-eyed

"yes sweetheart" he nodded "So before you make love with Chad, I think it's best if we practice for a bit, what do you say?"

Your eyes found his, and all you could see in them was the perfect stepdad, helping you in any way he could.

"I'd like that, thank you so much, daddy"

Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4

[golden1u5t]

worship you | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: @cosmicblogs

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary:  spencer takes notice of how you react to being praised so he takes that information and runs with it. 

"what If he's saving them? the body parts." you thought aloud, twirling your pen between your fingers as you looked up at the rest of the team. you were the newest member so when everyone just stared at you, you thought that maybe your ideas was stupid. "nevermind, I- I just thought-"

"no, you're right. that's why we can't find the missing limbs, he's keeping them." spencer spoke up, he turned around to look at you for a second. "thats good. you're good, y/n."

you felt your face heat up at his compliment, suddenly sitting up straight and feeling the need to fix your hair. "oh! thank you, dr. reid."

he turned around to look at you from over his shoulder, a smile on his face before turning back around. you could feel the rest of the teams eyes on you and you could only hope that they hadn't picked up on your sudden nervousness. you excused yourself from the little room you all were gathered in at the police department, you needed to get out of the room with him before you embarrassed yourself.

+++

"you did good today, you thought of things no one else had considered." spencer smiled at you and set his bags on the bed he would be taking for the duration of your stay.

"thank you, dr. reid." you whispered and immediately shoved past him to hide your face but he grabbed your arm and pulled you back before you could. his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over you, he could tell you were flustered but he just couldn't pin point why. he always has been oblivious to his attractiveness.

"you don't have to call me that." he mumbled, his hand loosening on your arm. he moved to take your bags off your shoulder and out of your hand. "do you wanna shower first, pretty?"

your eyes widened by a lot and you literally had a keep yourself from moaning so instead of sticking around you darted into the bathroom, forgetting about the fact your clothes and all of your hygiene products were in the room with spencer but were too flushed to go back in there so the little travel sized products the hotel provided would have to do for the night.

while you were in the shower, spencer sat at the edge of his bed trying to figure out why you were so flustered. it didn't click until he replayed the conversations he had with you throughout the day, that's when he noticed the pattern. you only got flustered after he'd compliment you or after he praised you for your good work. he chuckled to himself and shook his head.

"spencer?" you cracked the bathroom door open and poked your head out, spencer looked up at the sound of your voice. "can you close your eyes? I don't have my clothes, only a towel."

"of course." he stood up and moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed that faced the wall, even though his back was towards you he still closed his eyes like he said he would. you doubled checked that he wasn't looking before unwrapping the towel and quickly put your night clothes on. you let him know that he could open his eyes, you put the rest of your things away and moved your bags to the floor before getting into the bed. "you wanna know something I figured out?"

"sure, is it about the case? if so, we should probably call the team." you started to reach for your phone but Spencer quickly told you that it wasn't about the case. he walked around his bed and sat on the side of yours.

"you like being complimented, praised." he hummed. you dry chuckled and shook your head, starting to deny it and say that you didn't know what he was talking about. "you get all shy and flustered. I think you like it when i praise you. can I do that, can i praise you more?"

you moved off of the bed, you weren't sure where you were going but spencer pulled you back before you could stray too far. he pulled you closer to him until you were standing in between his open legs. 

"spencer, I-"

"tell me if I'm overstepping, y/n. we can go to bed now and pretend it never happened." he whispered, he loosened his grip so you could easily slip out of his hold if you wanted to. you looked at him for a moment, heart beating fast in your chest. your eyes darted down to his lips and back to his eyes. you could've slipped out of his hold and did what he said, go to bed and forget about it, but you didn't; you sat down onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"please?" you breathed against his lips, feeling him wrap his arms around you and pull you impossibly closer to him. spencer brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head and crashed his lips into yours. things escalated almost immediately, you tugging his shirt off while he took yours off. spencer moved you onto your back and pushed your thighs apart to make room for himself. he nudged your jaw with his nose until you tilted your head back, he pressed his lips to your pulse point and smiled when he felt how fast your heart was beating.

"can I?" he asked, his hand playing with the waistline of your shorts. you nodded you head but quickly voiced your approval when you noticed the look he gave you.

spencer sat up and tugged your shorts and underwear down your legs, tossing them behind his head and leaning down to kiss you again. his hand traveled in between your bodies until he reached your cunt, his slim fingers running through your wet slit and smearing your arousal over your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

"you're beautiful." he looked down at you, looking at how your lips parted to let out some of the most beautifulest sounds he'd ever heard, sounds he would never forget, sounds he would replay in his mind over and over again. he moved his fingers from your clit to prod against your entrance before slowly pushing one finger inside, drinking in the soft moans you let out.

"spencer, please- need more." your hips rutted up into him, his fingers felt great but they weren't enough and he seemed to understand that with just those few words.

even though you knew he needed to take his fingers out in order to give you want you really wanted, you still whined out at the loss. spencer grazed his wet fingers over your hip before leaning back on his legs and unbuckling his pants.

he had to get off of the bed in order to get his pants and boxers off but when he did he got back on the bed. you sat up on your elbows and looked down at his cock that rested over your cunt, eyes widening as you took in his girth. "oh my gosh- i don't-you're big."

you moved your hand and reached down to wrap your hand around him, your lips parted as you realized that your fingers didn't connect. spencer looked down at your hand wrapped around his cock, his hips jerked forward when you swiped your thumb over his red tip.

"you can take it, i know you can." he leaned down and captured your lips in a soft kiss. spencer's hips pushed forward into your hand when you started to move your hand, he caught your wrist and took your hand off of him. he sat up and hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you until they were flush against his abdomen. "ready, pretty?"

"yes, m'ready." you nodded, spencer guided his cock through your folds to smear your slick before he slowly slid into you. your head fell back as you gasped at the intrusion of his cock, the stretch was slightly painful. you hadn't been with anyone in a while, especially not with anyone as big as spencer.

he kept his pace slow for you, steadying himself with his hand resting above your head. he pushed your thighs apart and you wrapped them around his waist, letting out a soft moan as the pain subdued and was replaced with pleasure.

spencer kissed down your jaw and ghosted his lips over your collarbone. you used your legs to pull him further into you, whining when he pushed so much deeper into your cunt. "you want more?"

you nodded your head quickly. spencer sat up and grabbed your hips, snapping his hips into your faster and harder. "you're so pretty, you look so good like this."

you let out a small whimper at his compliment, your face heating up and making you turn away from him to hide your face. spencer chuckled and pulled out of you, hissing as he did so. you quickly looked at him with wide eyes but he laid down and pulled you on top of him before you could protest. you lifted your hips and held his cock as you sank down onto him, you moved your hands to his chest and started to ride him.

spencer let you control your pace but he kept his hands on your waist. his chest rose and fell heavily as he watched your face twist in pleasure, he groaned lowly feeling your cunt squeeze around him.

"m'so close, fuck-" you cried out, hips lifting and dropping quicker. spencer planted his feet onto the bed and started to lift his hips up to help you cum faster. normally, you probably would’ve lasted a bit longer but not tonight, the feeling of his cock against your walls and all the praise he was giving you was starting to get overwhelming.

your body fell forward as your orgasm finally shook you, you whined and moaned spencer's name into his ear. spencer's head tipped back as he felt himself about to cum, he quickly pulled out and started to stroke his cock to get himself off. when he came it was messy, his cum shooting up between you both and landing on his and your chest.

you sat up and huffed, pushing your hair out of your face and smiled down at him. "I think I like being praised by you."

"of course you do." he chuckled and pulled you down to kiss him.

[bluecrocss]

Yes. You are racist. (Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one)

So approximately half a year since the premier of the Disney+ Percy Jackson show, and almost two years since the announcement of the Trio's casting, I would like to take this moment to look back at the insane, racist and anti-black backlash that was launched at Leah Sava Jeffries and a few other cast members from the PJO fandom.

I'm not concerned with the trolls who are openly racist, who resorted to racist slurs and outright threats, everyone agrees that they "took it too far". I want to talk about the rest of you, the "I'm not racist, but.." people, the "What's wrong with wanting book accuracy?" people. Just to let you know, for the unasked question... yes, yes you are.

I've noticed the Percy Jackson fandom has been lording some weird superiority complex over a certain *unnamed* fandom that has fallen out of grace due to their recently outed bigot of an author. But honestly, y'all are not much different. The amount of vitriol and anti-blackness I have seen from this fandom (beyond just bullying a 12 year old girl), y'all don't have a leg to stand on.

Below is a breakdown of the most common arguments I have seen used to justify y'alls absolutely insane bigotry. I am going to explain why none of these justify the amount of anger and vitriol y'all have sent towards Leah, Rick or any of the cast.

I am not here to argue, and this is not a democracy. I am giving you a chance for some self-reflection and to understand that this pattern of violence directed towards POC actors (mostly black women) has never been justified in the name of "book accuracy"/"comic book accuracy"/"ending forced diversity" or whatever other excuses y'all try to make up.

If you still try to justify or argue further for any of these points, I will just block you. I am not coddling you through your racism. If anyone has seen any other dumb arguments floating around that I might've missed, feel free to sound off in the comments.

She's not book accurate:

Neither is Percy, Luke, Grover, Dionysus, Poseidon, and just about every other named character.

Rick already made it clear that physical features were not the priority with casting, rather it was actors that embodied the role. So why are the biggest complaints about Annabeth and Zeus? 🤔

What? You're gonna say everyone else got backlash too? I see you trying to obscure the main issue by playing dumb 😉

See my friend, yes, there were one or two comments about how Percy's hair should be black or how Luke is supposed to be blonde, but as soon as Leah was cast, none of those actors got any significant backlash. In fact, Walker and Charlie literally have an army of fan girls at their beck and call, calling them the perfect Percy and Luke, despite neither being "Book accurate". But then again, have we not observed the pattern of White boy of the month vs WOC to hate for the year? (Yes, I know Charlie isn't white. Further adds to the irony, doesn't it).

Why include character descriptions if you won't stay true to them, you cry? Well, my dear sweet moron, see, books and TV are two different mediums. Because in literature, you can't *Literally* SEE the characters, the author has to add descriptions to paint a picture in your mind, in TV... that's not an issue. So unless the character's appearance is necessary to the plot (like Luke's scar, or Nico being Italian) the show runners can actually focus on more important things.. Like ACTING and PERSONALITY.

2. It's just not how I imagined her:

News flash, babe! ANNABETH ISN'T REAL. None of these character are. They are concepts that originated from the brain of Mr. Rick Riordan. It doesn't matter how YOU imagined her. There are millions of people who read these books that imagined her several different ways. When the creator of the character watched Leah's audition and said, 'Yes! She embodies the character I created!", your imagined version of Annabeth ceased to matter. And guess what? The books still exist... they have not been burned. Your version of Annabeth has not disappeared. Go read the books.

3. Zeus can't be black/Gods have to be Greek/*Insert Character* can't be black:

Y'all did not read the books, I swear. You have to be fake fans looking to troll atp.

The gods move based off the center of western civilization. They change their forms/environment to reflect the culture they are occupying (they did it with Rome, now they're doing it with America). The gods change forms all the time. How we see them is not their true form as a mortal would disintegrate if they were to see their true form.

America is a cultural melting pot (specifically NY where Mount Olympus is now based). If the god's choose forms that reflect the current society they inhabit, they could literally be any race (keep in mind NYC is only 33% white).

All of this is literally SPELLED OUT in the Lightning Thief.

Furthermore, if you're going to push the ethnically Greek thing... Poseidon is British with a British accent and Hermes is Latino. The only ethnically Greek actor is Dionysus (who still doesn't look book accurate). Y'all are sounding like some white supremacists because do you forget that race is a social construct?

Before the advent of the transatlantic slave trade, I can promise you that the Greeks and the Anglo-Saxons did NOT view themselves as the same people. Why are y'all not taking issue with Poseidon's actor then?

Also, Percy Jackson has canonically had a slew of explicitly black demigods since the second book (including Harriet Tubman, which I have mixed feelings about 😭), so I genuinely have no idea where some of y'all are going with this point.

4. She was our smart blonde representation:

Don't pmo. I swear to God!

White, blonde women have NEVER been excluded from Hollywood. Representation is not something you lacked. The dumb blonde stereotype was a simple branch off of a larger misogynistic "dumb woman" stereotype. It has not truly been relevant since the mid 2000s outside of childish jokes.

This iteration of Percy Jackson will probably not go beyond the first 5 books, based off pacing and the age of the actors. So here's a fun game: 5 bucks to the first person who can find me a quote in the first 5 Percy Jackson books, where Annabeth laments her insecurities about being blonde (hint: there aren't any).

Also, her blonde hair does not hold her back at Camp because she is head of the Athena Cabin who are highly respected (and guess what?), ARE ALL BLONDE!

Her insecurities about her hair color are two or three lines at most in the later books, not this fundamental, core part of her character y'all all of a sudden wanna pretend it was. And guess what, as a non-blonde black girl, I was able to read those scenes of Annabeth feeling undervalued because of her looks and relate to her even if she didn't look like me at the time.

Why all of a sudden can y'all not do that with a black Annabeth? By every metric black girls are undervalued for their intelligence in academia more than white girls are, regardless of hair color. So your little representation of a woman undervalued by her looks would still hold. Do y'all dehumanize black women so much, that you are incapable of empathizing with show!Annabeth's plight in the way I could with Book!Annabeth simply because she doesn't look exactly like you?

Your issue isn't that she isn't blonde, it's that she is NOT WHITE.

Furthermore, Becky Riordan had tweeted previously (before the show was even cast) that Annabeth never needed to be blonde (probably recalling the BS y'all put Alexandra Daddario through), so even if they cast a white Annabeth, the blonde hair was never a guarantee. the author and producers all agree that it was not a significant part of her character. It's been a non-issue since day one.

Also, stop acting like smart blondes are rare in media... If you don't go watch some Legally blonde, Iron Man (Pepper Potts), Zack and Cody (Maddie), Liv and Maddie, FMAB (Winry), Captain Marvel, She-Ra, Buffy, The boys (starlight) etc. etc., and go sit down somewhere 🙄🙄🙄 (those were literally all things I've watched recently, off the top of my head, btw 💀)

5. It's not about race, but...:

Yes it is. It was always bout race. No other actors got as much hate as Leah. Her grandmother and other family members on IG had to mute their comments because they were getting so many threats.

Alexandra Daddario had to come to her defense on Twitter. Rick had to put out an official statement on his website. This girl has endured years of psychological torment for simply having the best audition. No one else is book accurate, no one else is ethnically Greek (except Jason Mantzoukas). Walker literally has British and German ancestry.

Why was she being called racial slurs on reddit and in youtube comments?

I know what you're gonna say, "I actually had problems with the entire cast", "I actually had a bigger issue with Walker's hair color", blah blah blah. Then why aren't you in Walker's comment sections? Why are you only making your displeasure known on posts defending/advocating for Leah? Why is she always your first example of 'wrong casting"?

Well, she "looks the most different"... Look up the term "scapegoating".

"Oh, I don't agree with the harassment. I just don't like the casting." Guess what? She's already been cast. They are not going to uncast her. What do you get out of still complaining about it.

All the vitriol you're stirring about her when you complain about her on Social media, it is directing people to send her hate, even if you're not writing it directly. It's is not enough to "not agree" with the racism, it is your duty to actively prevent it. And btw, these are young gen z actors, they are active on social media. They see the edits of themselves (even comment on it) and they most likely see these little "harmless" complaints you're posting. Are your upset feelings really worth contributing to the racist dogpile on this poor girl?

6. Why couldn't they atleast give her blonde braids?:

Why should they? Y'all wanted blonde because of the "dumb blonde" trope... that doesn't apply to POC.

A blonde black girl is gonna be viewed the same as a non-blonde black girl (or at worst, someone might decide she's "ratchet" or some shit for wearing colored hair). What difference would it make?

Why shouldn't Walker dye his hair, then?

7. Annabeth has Gray eyes:

Less than 3% of the global population has "gray eyes". Even if they cast a white actor, they would've needed contacts. Her being black is not the reason Annabeth's eyes aren't gray. Simply put, it is a plot element they removed, like the whole "names have power" element, or Ares having flames for eyes, or Dionysus using his powers to grow strawberries at Camp.

That's how adaptations work. Unnecessary plot elements are cut to save time and budget. This has nothing to do with her casting. They probably also didn't want to make child actors wear contacts (not a new practice).

8. Even if Rick chose her, he was wrong/Disney is forcing him to be okay with it:

Where do I start? Rick created the character. He can't be wrong. Do y'all have no self-awareness? Death of the author has no place here, because y'all are hung up on an aspect of the character that is not relevant to her arc or development.

Y'all's justification for wanting a "book accurate" Annabeth is that she was such an inspirational and important character growing up, and yet your behavior is so in conflict with the character you claim means so much to you. You're narrow minded, dismissive of bigotry and injustice, and disrespectful to the wishes of the creator of your favorite character; everything that Annabeth would never be. Y'all were never genuine fans of the books. You're bigots that needed an outlet for your rage.

Keep in mind, Rick has said countless times that PercaBeth directly mirrors his relationship with his wife. Y'all think he would have allowed them to cast someone who doesn't live up to the woman who has been by his side for decades? The mother of his children?

Regarding Disney forcing him, show me one piece of direct evidence that proves Disney in anyway pressured Rick to cast her. Cuz if you can't, that's baseless speculation. And if you have to resort to baseless speculation, maybe try to examine why it's so important to you to hold on to this belief.

9. So, I'm racist because I hate "race swapping"?:

To start, there is a difference between "race swapping" and "color blind casting". Often times, when y'all complain about the former, you're actually mad about the latter.

It would be "race swapping" if Rick and the team decided ahead of time that they wanted a black Annabeth and ONLY allowed black actors to audition. But the actual reality was that they accepted auditions from everyone (there were white actors and non-black poc that also auditioned for the role) and chose the best person who embodied the role. They didn't "make Annabeth black" and they didn't "make Zeus black", they cast black actors for those roles.

Y'all think you're being slick with your wording. Dismissing that is implying that they did not earn their roles fair and square. Which is racist. It's the equivalent of going up to a black college student and telling them they only got in because of affirmative action. You're dismissing the achievements of a person solely because of their racial background.

For all you people complaining about "unfairness" and "forced diversity", I would think hiring based on merit would appeal to you 🤔

71% of theatrical Hollywood leads were white in 2024 in comparison to 29% POC and you still think "black washing" is a thing? You still get this angry over a black person fairly earning a role because you think in a time where Hollywood only knows to do remakes and adaptations, that the majority of lead roles still *have* to be reserved for white actors?

Once again, white people have never been excluded from Hollywood for being white. Representation has never been something you lacked nor is it something you can lose. Your anger comes from seeing a black face where you think they don't belong. Because you feel you are owed a disproportion of representation in Hollywood.

10. Woke agenda/DEI/Forced Diversity:

If you are unironically using any of these terms in a negative light, it's already too late for me to reason with you. Look up the term "dog whistle". If you are sharing the same terminology with Elon Musk and his fanboys, maybe reevaluate some things.

POC are objectively underrepresented and have been historically excluded through actual laws and policies in Hollywood. There is no such thing as "forced diversity", you have bought in to a right wing conspiracy theory.

"Woke" is a term that was intentionally appropriated from the black community. It originally meant being aware of injustice and systematic threats to the community and is now being weaponized by bigots. Good job.

Diversity and inclusion is a good thing.

11. But POC deserve to have their own stories told:

We do. And we have been fighting for it for over a century now, and we've made great strides, no thanks to y'all.

No thanks to y'all gaslighting us about how little representation we get or that representation matters at all. No thanks to y'all pushing the idea that POC can't sell globally and obscuring POC actors in international promos. No thanks to y'all continuing to whitewash even to this day (Bullet train, the beguiled, gods of Egypt, atla, every portrayal of Jesus ever, etc.). No thanks to y'all calling every piece of media that has more than one black lead and more than one queer couple "woke". No thanks to y'all throwing a fit every time a black person in a fantasy setting isn't a slave.

Fact of the matter is, y'all never cared about POC "getting their own stories", you're only parroting our own words back to us now as a politically correct way of saying, "leave white roles alone" lmao

Well fun fact, actors of color getting opportunities to play lead roles and allowing poc to "tell their own stories" are not mutually exclusive. If y'all cared that much, instead of bullying a 12 year old actress, you could actually support up and coming independent POC writers, directors, and studios 😱

12. Studios need to stop "setting up" actors of color:

Do me a favor and google the term DARVO.

Your racism is not the fault of the studios for giving a POC actor a role that they earned. It is not up to the rest of society to tiptoe around racists to avoid their vitriol. It is our responsibility to hold them accountable and protect minorities from unwarranted hate. At most, you can say it's the responsibility of the studios to provide adequate support to POC actors who face this backlash.

At the end of the day, Hollywood only allows very few spots for POC actors (especially WOC), while simultaneously pushing a new white boy every month to put in everything. Putting minorities in these roles that are usually closed to them, usually opens the door to more actors of color than before.

Brandy being cast as Cinderella did a lot to push her into the mainstream (yes, she was already extremely famous in the black community atp), Halle Berry being the first, black, bond girl literally shot her to icon status, and even going as far back to what Anna Mae Wong did for Asian American actresses with her "femme fatale" roles.

At the end of the day, even with the backlash, *some* rep does more good for POC actors than *no* rep. The solution to racist backlash isn't to take away those opportunities, but rather to not be racist??? 🙄

Also, for everyone that claims that "POC race-swapping" is just as bad as "white-washing", despite white washing having a longer history and objectively causing more harm, note how the backlash to white washing never lasts as long as the harassment that POC get.

Like, no one brings up Scarlett Johansson's ghost in the shell role anymore, but you can best believe Candace Patton is still fending off racist trolls. As much as people hated the atla movie, people moved on quick from Nicola Peltz playing Katara since she was just a kid that accepted the role (re: daddy bought her the role), but y'all would not have any of that consideration for Leah Sava Jeffries.

But I digress...

13. What if we made Tiana white? Wakanda white? Hazel white...:

Ah, my favorite inane point. I was so excited to get here :)

See, I could start out by pointing out how "White washing" and casting a POC actor as a traditionally white character are not equivalent.

I could point out the history of hollywood ACTIVELY excluding POC actors and POC stories. I could point out how grossly over represented white people are in hollywood. I could point out that POC characters are so few in comparison that whitewashing them causes actual harm, where white people have never lacked rep.

I could point out how, because poc characters and stories are so often tokenized that their racial/cultural background is often directly tied to their character's identity, in opposition to a lot of white characters, since hollywood treats white as the "Default".

See, I could make all those points, but the thing is, the people who make this argument already know all that. They are trying to waste time by drawing me into a pointless circular argument that will sum up to "fair is fair", while ignoring all the context and nuance I previously provided.

So you know what? Forget it. Let me play your game.

I am actually fine with a white Tiana. Would it make sense, for her and her family to experience Jim Crow era racism, in the south while white? No. But we can look past it. Disney was never known for historical accuracy anyway 🤷🏿‍♀️

However, in exchange, the live action frozen will have a black Elsa and Anna, live action Rapunzel will be black, live action Merida will be black, we're re-filming Cinderella and Beauty and the beast to cast a black belle and Cindy, snow white will need to be recast as black, and we also get aurora whenever the live action sleeping beauty is announced. But then y'all can keep Tiana, deal?

You want a white T'Challa? Fine! (I'm partial to Ryan gosling), in the meantime, we'll be recasting Iron man, Captain America (Steve version), Bruce banner, Thor, Loki, hawk eye, black widow, ant man, captain marvel, Bucky, Peter Parker etc. All the avengers and their side characters, then y'all can have Sam Wilson, war machine and the whole of Wakanda (will it make sense that a sole, hidden, African nation is randomly made up of white people? Who cares? We get the avengers!).

You want white Hazel? You got her! I hope you have no problem with us taking Percy, Nico, Will, Poseidon, Jason, calypso, Rachel, Tyson, Silena, the stoll brothers, Sally Jackson, Hades, Hepheastus, ares, etc. But y'all can have Hazel and Beckendorf.

If we're gonna do this, let's commit all the way. Fair is fair, after all.

14. Leah isn't as "pretty" as Book Annabeth/Movie Annabeth:

I wish I could say this wasn't a genuine point I had read, but when all else fails, they will always go for a woman's appearance.

Now first of all, as a rule, I will never hold black women to white beauty standards. Our hair will never be long and silky enough, our nose will never be narrow enough, our skin will never be fair enough and our eyes will never be light enough (Might I recommend Toni Morrison, when you get the chance?). But Leah is unfairly gorgeous idc what any of you say, and you're not gonna have me use my defense of Leah as an opportunity to bash Alexandra either because she is also beautiful. These two queens slayed to the best of their abilities within this toxic ass fandom.

I find it funny, however, that so many of you harped on the "blonde" issue because you thought it was important that Annabeth be seen beyond just her looks, but quickly devolve to bashing an actress's looks when it comes to why she's not right for this role 🤔

I would also like to sincerely apologize that the 13 year old girl they cast in the show, wasn't as sexually attractive to you as the 24 year old woman they cast in the movie and sexualized through like 25% of her screen time (I'm actually not sorry. You're very weird if this is an actual point for you).

15. I don't agree with sending hate to the actor, but she's just not right for the role:

Once again, what are you doing by complaining about her casting on no other basis than her race?

The creator of the character said she embodied the role. She has already been cast, and Disney would be in a legal/production hell to recast her atp. Just because you're not directly leaving comments on her social media doesn't mean you're not part of the hate mob.

No matter how you look at it, your issues with her casting come from a very entitled and narrow-minded place. When you join in on these dialogues you are bolstering a sentiment that pushes more people to harass this teenage girl. When you leave these "harmless" complaints, on show content, fan posts or posts defending her, she's liable to read them because the cast regularly interact with fans online.

What do you have to say that is so important that it trumps protecting a young girl from the long-staying trauma of racism, of being told she doesn't deserve something she worked for because of how she was born?

16. I can't even criticize the show without being called racist:

Get. Over. Yourself.

Y'all are not the victim. Have fans of the show gotten protective of Leah and the young cast? Yes.

With good reason. This fandom is unbearably toxic.

Racism outweighs your need for a "perfect adaptation", sorry.

If you explain yourself properly and keep your critiques fair (like, even I don't think this was a perfect season, and will be sharing my thoughts shortly), no one is gonna call you racist.

You're preempting with that because in all honesty, you're probably planning to use your "critiques" of the show to pivot to one of the many points that I just outlined, and you want to pre-empt the criticism.

If a black Annabeth is the end all be all for you, just don't watch the show, no one's holding a gun to your head. Geez.

17. I'm Black/POC and I don't agree...:

Hey, Candace Owens... No one gives a shit.

First of all, for all the "I'm POC and I don't agree" people, you don't speak for us. Anti-blackness is rampant in just about every culture globally. You being not-white doesn't somehow make you less prone to hating black people.

But for the "I'm black and I don't agree" leftovers (assuming you're not just a 👩🏼‍💻 behind a keyboard). Black people are not a monolith. You're not obligated to think a certain way because you're black.

But consider why you're putting yourself up as a barrier to protect this hate mob. It's one thing to just state why you don't like Leah's casting, but to start off your spiel with "I'm actually black" as a way to weaponize the very identity politics you're critiquing... very strange. Not to mention, what are you defending?

The black community is coming together to defend one of our own, a kid who has been receiving death threats since she was 12, and this is when you feel the need to back the opposition?

I mean whatever... sometimes the house slaves would snitch to the master. There will always be some of y'all in the woodwork. It is what it is.

But when the exact ideology you defend is turned against you, when a Baltimore elected official is being accused of getting his job through "DEI", when conservatives are claiming that they wouldn't "trust a black pilot", don't decide that's where you'll finally draw your line in the sand.

All that being said, This is my Annabeth:

May every tongue that rose against Leah Sava Jeffries Shrivel and die in 2025 🙏🏿 My girl will keep winning ❤️

(video by @/waleahhasmyheart on TikTok)

[stylesispunk]

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

Joel miller x f!reader

previous part

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

w.c: 14,6k

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

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

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

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

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

“Good morning, Joel” You smiled at him

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They voted me out” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her, Joel and you.

There were broken versions hoping to be fixed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How is therapy going?" you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

You gave him a warm smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh" you breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stopped kissing you to meet your eyes briefly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you going to f-"

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

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

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

"Oh," you whimpered, out of breath.

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

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

"Joel, please…" you grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck me…" you said in ecstasy,

"I’m doing it" he retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon @pascalions

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

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

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

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

series masterlist | next >>

Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.”  The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[iidrk3i]

☆ BUMP IN THE ROAD

hq -- kageyama tobio x gn!reader, iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader, kuroo tetsurou x gn!reader, oikawa tooru x gn!reader

summary: facing difficult challenges with your boyfriend.

warnings: angsty but comfort, slight food mentions (most of them are over dinner srry i was hungry😭), some crying

word count: 1.9k

✦ KAGEYAMA TOBIO. miscommunication

you knew that volleyball was important to your boyfriend. heck, everyone in school knew. at the start of the season, you were still able to see kageyama in between class periods and lunch break. but as the season went on, you noticed that it was becoming harder to see kageyama at school and outside of school. sometimes he would even skip lunch breaks to practice. it was clear that kageyama was dedicated to training and improving his skills. it was also clear that practicing 24/7 left him with little time for anything else.

you had patiently been waiting for an opportunity to spend quality time with kageyama. earlier today, you texted him and asked if he would like to come over and eat dinner with you. at first, you were left on read. you were worried to say the least. it's been around 2 since you've last spent time with him in person. as you were looking back at the previous messages between you and kageyama, there was a pattern with his texts. they've all been short and quick. around an hour later, you had gotten a notification that he had liked your message. taking that as a sign that he was on his way to your place, you had started to make his favorite meal, and as if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

“hey, tobio,” you greeted him with a soft smile as you opened the door.

“hey,” he mumbled, head tilted down as he swiftly walked in and took his shoes off.

those were the only words exchanged for a while. the both of you were sitting at your kitchen island, the only noise that was heard were the forks scraping against your plates.

“tobio?” you looked up at him. his hair was disheveled, eyebags evident on his face, and his eyes were empty.

"tobio?" you repeated softly, concern evnident in your voice. his demeanor was so different from the lively, determined kageyama you knew.

he glanced up briefly, meeting your gaze for a fleeting moment before his eyes dropped again. "sorry," he murmured, pushing his food around on his plate without much appetite.

you hesitated, unsure of how to approach the growing distance between you. "is everything okay?" you asked gently, reaching out to touch his hand.

he tensed slightly at your touch, pulling his hand away, as if a reflex. "i'm fine," he replied curtly, his tone cold.

the air between you thickened with tension. you knew kageyama well enough to recognize when something was bothering him, but getting him to open up was always a challenge.

"i... i missed you," you admitted quietly, hoping your vulnerability would help him speak his mind.

he sighed heavily, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "i know," he said finally, his voice hinted with frustration. "i've just been... stressed. there's a lot ofpressure this season, and i feel like i'm letting everyone down if i don't keep improving."

you listened attentively, heart aching for the weight he carried on his shoulders. "you're not letting anyone down, tobio," you assured him gently. "we all see how hard you're working, and we're proud of you. but... i miss you too. i miss us."

he looked up at you then, sadness in his eyes. "i miss us too," he admitted quietly, remorse clear in his tone. "i'm sorry if i've been distant. i just... i want to be the best for the team, for myself."

you nodded understandingly, reaching out to hold his hand again, this time finding no resistance. "you don't have to do it alone, tobio," you murmured, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "we're here for you. i'm here for you."

he squeezed your hand back gratefully, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. "thank you," he whispered, his voice laced with emotion.

—

✦ IWAIZUMI HAJIME. lies

iwaizumi had been acting unusually distant and preoccupied for the past few days, which hadn't gone unnoticed by you. despite your attempts to engage him in conversation or spend time together, iwaizumi seemed to be avoiding them, always coming up with excuses about extra training sessions or team meetings.

one evening, after a particularly long and tiring day for both of you, you decided to surprise him with dinner at his place. you had been looking forward to some quality time together, hoping it would give you guys a chance to reconnect. right as you arrived at his doorstep with bags of groceries in hand, you were surprised to find iwaizumi already home, looking visibly surprised and flustered at your unexpected visit.

"hey, haji," you greeted him with a smile, trying to ignore the tension in the air. "i thought i'd make us dinner tonight. i hope that's okay."

iwaizumi hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously towards the kitchen. "actually, um, i have plans with the team tonight," he replied, his voice sounding strained.

your smile faltered slightly, a disappointed expression creeping onto your face. "but you said you were free tonight," you pointed out gently, feeling a wave of hurt.

iwaizumi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "yeah, something came up last minute. it's important, i promise," he insisted, avoiding your gaze.

feeling a mix of frustration and confusion, you couldn't help but press further. "hajime, is everything okay? you've been distant lately, and now this..."

he looked torn, clearly struggling with his next words. "it's just... there's been a lot going on with the team. i didn't want to worry you," he finally admitted, his voice tinged with guilt.

your eyebrows furrowed. "so you lied to me?" you asked softly, hurt evident in your tone.

iwaizumi looked torn, realizing the weight of his actions. "i didn't mean to," he started, but you interrupted, your frustration bubbling over.

"you didn't mean to lie, or you didn't mean to hurt me?" you questioned, your voice going against you as it trembled slightly.

iwaizumi sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "i'm sorry," he apologized sincerely, meeting your gaze finally. "i didn't handle this well. i just... i didn't want to burden you with my problems."

you softened slightly, recognizing the sincerity in his apology. "i understand, but i want us to be honest with each other, hajime," you said firmly, your hurt still lingering.

he nodded, reaching out to gently touch your arm. "i know. i'll do better," he promised as he got up from where he was, and engulfed you in a hug.

—

✦ KUROO TETSUROU. past actions

kuroo had been unusually quiet all evening, a brooding intensity replaced his normally easy going demeanor. as you and your boyfriend sat across from each other at the dinner table, the tension in the air was obvious. you glanced up from your plate, sensing something was wrong.

"is everything okay, tetsu?" you asked tentatively, voice breaking the uneasy silence.

kuroo sighed heavily, setting down his fork with more force than necessary. "no, not really."

you furrowed your brows, concerned. "what’s wrong? you’ve been distant all day."

"that’s the thing," he began, tone tinged with frustration. "it’s not just today. i feel like we keep having the same issues, over and over again."

your heart sank as you realized what kuroo was referring to—the unresolved problems from your past arguments that always seemed to resurface. you knew you couldn't avoid this conversation any longer.

"i thought we had talked through most of those," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

"yeah, but it feels like we never really resolve anything," kuroo argued, his voice rising slightly. "remember that time we fought about—"

"don’t bring that up again, tetsu," you interrupted, frustration bubbling to the surface. "we settled that, didn't we?"

"but did we really?" kuroo shot back, his frustration now fully unleashed. "it’s like we just patch things up for the moment, and then it all comes back."

the argument escalated, both of you bringing up problems that had long been buried but never fully addressed. voices rose, words became sharper as each accusation hit closer to home. kuroo felt a pang of guilt for bringing up the past, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dissatisfaction that had been gnawing at him.

you fought back tears, feeling the weight of the unresolved issues crushing you. "i thought we were better than this," you choked out, voice trembling.

kuroo’s expression softened momentarily at the sight of your watery eyes, but his frustration lingered. "i do too, but how do we move forward if we can't even talk about this?"

the argument reached it's peak, both of you hurt and exhausted. kuroo sighed heavily once more, running a hand through his hair in frustration. you stared down at your plate, tears silently streaming down your face.

"i.. don't know," you finally whispered, the fight draining out.

kuroo’s heart sank at the defeated tone in your voice. he realized then how much you both needed to find a way to resolve your problems—not just for the sake of the relationship, but for your own peace of mind.

"i’m sorry," kuroo murmured, his voice barely audible. "i just... i want us to be okay."

you looked up, meeting kuroo’s eyes with a mix of sadness and longing.

"me too," you whispered back, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes.

—

✦ OIKAWA TOORU. jealousy and insecurities

oikawa had always been charismatic, charming, and surrounded by admirers—both on and off the court. you had always been supportive of his career and his popularity, but lately, found yourself struggling with a growing sense of insecurity.

one evening after a particularly intense match, you and oikawa were walking back to his apartment when a group of fangirls approached, giggling and asking for autographs. oikawa agreed with his usual friendly smile and playful banter, much to the delight of his fans. you stood slightly behind him, feeling invisible and increasingly uneasy.

as you finally entered oikawa’s apartment, you couldn't contain their feelings any longer. "tooru, can we talk for a moment?"

he turned towards you with a grin, still buzzing from the excitement of the match. "of course, what's on your mind?"

"it’s just..." you hesitated, unsure how to voice your feelings without sounding petty. "i feel like you don't notice how much attention you get from other girls."

oikawa’s expression shifted to confusion, his brows furrowing slightly. "what do you mean?"

you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. iI mean... those fangirls. they’re always around you, and you're so nice to them, which is great! but sometimes, i feel... i feel like i’m not enough. like i can't compete with all those girls who adore you."

your boyfriend’s eyes widened as he finally understood your feelings. "y/n, i didn't realize you felt like this." he stepped closer, gently taking your face in his hands. "i appreciate my fans, but you... you're the most important person to me. no one compares to you."

you felt a rush of relief hearing oikawa’s reassuring words, but the insecurities still lingered. "i know, but sometimes it's hard not to feel jealous."

oikawa nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "i get it now. i’m sorry if I made you feel that way. i’ll try to be more aware of how my interactions might affect you."

you hugged him gratefully, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "thank you, tooru. i needed to hear that."

he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "i’m here for you, always. don’t hesitate to tell me when something's bothering you."

a/n: i was listening to champagne coast while writing these

[fcthots]

Drunk sex with jay?he's the one drunk btw

I got carried away...

This is one of the longest things I've ever written

He is such a horny drunk. It's been established for years at this point. He achieves something. He's proud of himself. He gets drunk. His face gets flushed. He gets flirty. He gets horny. All a part of the routine. You've talked about it. You've discussed it. You've accepted it.

And you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the flirting at least a little.

He'd started drinking an hour ago. He's had his eyes locked on yours since then. He's watched your every step and hasn't stopped smiling.

You know he's watching you. You're standing with him in the kitchen. He's sitting on one of the metal barstool chairs he picked out a few months ago at some old furniture store. He's solidly drunk now. His steps waver when he tries to walk and he slurs his words when he speaks. He smile still doesn't drop.

He's been chattering most of the time, talking about nothing. Also flirting. So much flirting. But he's been silently staring at you for the last 3 minutes, a record.

He rests his chin in his hand. "I wanna taste you."

You drop the remote you were holding. He snickers. Loudly.

You let out a huff and bend over the grab the remote, blushing furiously. While you grab the remote from the floor, he soundlessly moves behind you. You're not entirely sure how he pulled it off in his drunken state. You don’t notice until you stand back up and his hands find your waist, pushing their way up under your shirt and tracing patterns into your skin. "Sounds like you like my idea. C'mon." He draws out the last syllable slightly. He turns you around, removing one hand to place it on your chin and tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes are hooded and dark. "Please?" His voice is gruff and slightly deeper than it usually is. How are you supposed to resist him?

He can see the surrender in your eyes ands smile brightens. You let out a breath. "You sure?"

He doesn't respond, just presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. He's no longer so drunk that he can't walk, but you still don't trust him to walk backwards to the couch the way he'd usually lead you during a kiss, so you walk yourself backward to the kitchen table. It breaks off the kiss when you sit, but Jason is quick to go to his knees to follow you. His mouth doesn't stay on yours for too much longer, it makes its way to your neck and you can feel him leave hickeys that surely won't be gone by tomorrow. His hands find their way back under your shirt to your hips and waist, pulling your body flush with his. They move and latch onto the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it, but he can't bring himself to move his mouth away from your neck. You do it for him. Faster than the flash, kid flash, or impulse could move, you lean slightly back and away to lift your shirt off your head. You toss the shirt across the room and you can faintly hear the fabric hit the ground as Jason's mouth returns to your neck.

But this time, it doesn’t stay in that one place for two long. How mouth moves to your finally freed collarbones and licks a hot strip up the middle of them. His eyes lock with yours and your skin feels warm and electric. His hands move up your body and try to make their way to your chest before he gets annoyed at the fabric there.

"Ugh!" His tone is annoyed and you can't help but let out a breath of a laugh. "Take it all off. Everything. Now."

"Bossy." But you're doing exactly what he says and you know he can see the excitement in your eyes. You think about making a remark about the clothing (What? can't figure out how to get it off?), but ultimately decide that getting the clothes off as fast as humanly possible is more pressing. His hands have to move away from your waist when it's time for the pants to go and you immediately miss the warmth of his touch. It isn't gone for long, though. The moment your underwear drops, his mouth is on your tits. He draws a nipple to his mouth and you can feel his tongue move against it. Your hands find their way into his hair as he moans and pushes the rest of his body against yours. You feel his teeth graze you and you let out a brief gasp. His fingers dip into your hipbones and he doubles his efforts.

He doesn’t want to spend too long on just one, though. He always says they both "deserve equal attention" (usually right after he says something like "mine. All fuckin mine,") but well his mouth is a little busy right now. His hands trail down to your thighs, moving up and down. They squeeze intermittently as he bares down on your tit. You try to rub your thighs together, to get some sort of friction, but his hands roughly push them apart and hold them in place.

You tug his hair back, moving his face away and making him look at you. His eyes are half lidded, dazed. There's not a damn thought in his brain other than you. He whines and it short circuits your brain. You were about to say something, but he beats you to it.

"Need you. Need to taste you. Please."

"Thought you'd never ask."

His head moves back to your chest, but this time it trails down. His open mouth kisses are quick and sloppy. He follows your skin as it moves with your quickening breaths. His hands move back up your thighs and this time they trail all the way to your hips. He licks a final stripe up your stomach as he jerks you to the edge of the table.

He moves his hands again, this time around the outer side of your knees. He briefly kisses his way up your thigh. You're both breathing loud and heavily by the time he hooks the knee over his shoulder. Then he moves his mouth the other thigh, moving his mouth along it the same way he did the previous one. And again when he finally makes all the way to your inner thigh, he backs his head up, smiles at you, and hooks that knee over his shoulder.

He lays down one last kiss before he looks back up at you again and says, "Sorry, ma. Can't wait any more."

His arms loop around your thighs to keep you in place and he wastes no further time. He licks a wet stripe up your cunt and you let out an unholy moan. His lips wrap around your clit and suck and your brain shuts off. Your eyes slide closed against your will, despite how fucking good he looks between your legs. The only thing you can do is feel what he's doing to you, and by the looks of it, he's in the same boat. You swear you don't know what he's doing with his tongue, but fuck it feels good.

You think he might be more drunk on you than the alcohol at this point, but regardless you notice he hasn't remembered to breathe since he started devouring you. You try to tug him by his hair but his neck remains stiff and he moans into your cunt (and fuck if that is't distracting). "Baby." You tug his scalp again, this time with force. He gasps when you pull him away. You make eye contact and his eyes are a fucking sight. His pupils are blown wide, but more important his mouth and chin are coated in your slick. He licks his lips and you almost lose it at the sight. "Don't forget to breathe."

He seemingly can't wait any longer because he talks on his way back to your cunt. "Yes ma'am." Your brain shuts off for the next two minutes. You suspect he might be tracing his name into you, but you're not complaining, especially when it feels like that. His fingers dig into your skin as you let out a stream of curses.

He backs away to catch his breath and had you been in any sort of state to, you might have made a remark about him remembering all on his own this time, but you're too thoroughly wrecked to let out anything other than a high pitched whine.

He breathes a laugh. "You sound like me. Tsk tsk tsk. I guess I've been rubbing off on you too much lately." You forget how much of a cocky bastard he can be. Apparently he's finished his meal, because he moves your knees off his shoulder and rises from his knees. There are red marks where his fingers were pressed into you. "C'mon. Get up. I'm gonna need you to ride me. Let's go. Let's go make you drunk on my cock, baby"

Time to find out if you can still walk.

[bratscave]

IN ANOTHER LIFE !

summary. falling in love with an old! driver, who's name was james while you were still in college was one thing — but finding out that he was wolverine after his death and meeting another version of him, was another.

includes/warnings. chapter two yay :), lots of flashbacks (omg they were so in love it hurts so bad), sex implied / lightly described once, she finds out about his death :/, laura!

Logan, as you knew him back then, liked to take walks with you. He just knocked on your door, hands stuffed into his jacket pocket, stayed silent and waited for you to gather your stuff to go outside. Didn't really talk much during it either, he'd rather listen to you, always.

And when you reached out for his hand, he didn't say anything, just let you. You'd sit down on bench and talk about the current drama going on with your friends and he'd smoke a cig and nod along. It wasn't much but it was comfortable.

You liked looking at sunsets, the pastels when it was late noon, various shades of yellow, orange and red. He wasn't the type of man who admired sunsets — at least, not before you.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, but at some point, Logan had started staying the night. It was never planned — he’d just show up after dark, looking more worn out than usual, and before you knew it, he was in your bed, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

One of those nights, you were lying in bed, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His hand was in your hair, his fingers lazily combing through the strands as you traced patterns on his skin with your fingertips.

“Tell me something,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the quiet. “Something I don’t know about you.”

Logan was silent for a long moment, his hand stilling in your hair. You could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles tightened beneath your touch.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he muttered, his voice rough, like it hurt to say the words.

You lifted your head, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him. His face was in shadow, but you could still see the hard lines of his jaw, the weight he carried. “I know,” you whispered, your heart aching for him. “But I want to.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You don’t wanna know,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”

You frowned, but you didn’t push. You never did.

Instead, you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing against the scruff of his beard. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

And you stayed true to your words, you didn't go anywhere. You stayed waiting for him, waiting for him when you found a small sticky note saying 'I'll be gone for a little while. Don't worry bout me.' in his usual gruff writing. And you stayed waiting for him, a week and a half, ten days.

And you had hope, fucking hope that it was going to be James, or well as you later found out- logan, behind the door, when it rang at midnight.

Instead you were greeted by a girl, no older then thirteen.

Logan used to like kissing you good night, always came around if he drove by your apartment complax while on his shift because you 'needed to go to bed, well kissed'

Logan used to like having his hand on your thigh when he was driving, he'd rub small circles and patterns over the clothed skin. Sometimes, when you were rambling about something, he’d squeeze it gently, like it was his way of saying he was listening, even when he wasn’t saying a word.

Logan used to wake up before you, his heavy, calloused fingers tracing the curve of your spine, slow and careful, like he didn’t want to wake you but couldn’t help himself from touching you. If you stirred, he’d mutter something gruff under his breath —“go back to sleep, kid”—but there was no missing the warmth in his voice, the tenderness in the way he pulled you closer.

Logan used to make love to you like it was a slow burn, always taking his time, even when he was in a hurry. He’d kiss you deeply, rough hands holding your hips in place as he moved, like he wanted to savor every second. Afterward, you’d lie tangled together in the sheets, your fingers tracing the lines of his body, and he’d grunt something sinful under his breath.

Logan used to bring you coffee on mornings when he had nowhere else to be. He didn’t say much, just handed you the cup with that same gruff expression, watching as you sipped it, his eyes softer than usual. When you’d smile and say thanks, he’d shrug it off like it was no big deal, but you knew better. It was his way of saying he cared.

Logan used to call you late at night, usually after a long shift. His voice would be rough, heavy with exhaustion, but he’d still ask about your day. “Tell me somethin’ good,” he’d mutter, like the sound of your voice was the only thing keeping him grounded. Sometimes, he’d fall asleep with the phone still in his hand, the steady sound of his breathing a quiet comfort on the other end of the line.

"Logan is dead."

The girl's voice got you out of your trance as you looked down to meet her eyes, she had very intense ones, what was such a young child doing out late at night? But you don't question just brush her remark of, "Sorry, I don't know a Logan."

"He said you might say that. I need to tell you something."

You spend the whole night on the coach, the same coach where you and.. logan, shared your first kiss and more. Is now the same coach you sit on and find out that he died. That he was some sort of hero, that he had tried changing his identity.

You cry, ugly ugly tears. A shit ton of them. You try your damn best not to, in front of the kid, laura as you now knew it, but you couldn't keep it in. Logan didn't like it when you cried, said it wouldn't get you nowhere, but rested his hand on your back, going up, down, up, down in the same pattern over n' over again to calm you down, in quiet support no matter what it was.

Now your back was cold.

Time moved like it always does — quickly, harshly, without much care for your grief. Before you knew it, months, years had passed. Laura didn’t leave, and you never asked her to. She stayed, silently adjusting to your small apartment and even smaller routines. You weren’t exactly maternal, but something about her—something in the way she’d sit quietly on the edge of the couch, watching those old cartoons Logan always scoffed at: made you feel less lonely.

She didn’t talk much at first. But you understood. Words weren’t always necessary, and you’d never been one to push someone to speak when they weren’t ready. You learned to share the silence, learned that she needed space just like you did.

Life was different now. You’d finished what you set out to do —graduated, finally became the professional you always wanted to be. Journalism, like you’d always dreamed of, except the joy wasn’t there, not the way it used to be. The thrill of chasing stories and deadlines had dulled, the passion that once fueled you replaced by a quiet, steady determination. You wrote because it was what you were good at. Because it paid the bills. Because it gave Laura stability.

And she needed that. More than anyone, she needed a steady life—a soft place to land, to heal, even if neither of you said it out loud.

Sometimes, when you caught a glimpse of her sitting at the table, head bent over some math homework, you’d see pieces of him in her. The same furrowed brows when she was deep in thought. The quiet way she watched the world, always alert but never speaking too much.

You missed him. It never got easier, not really. When it got really bad, you’d sit in the small kitchen, nursing a drink and staring out the window. You could almost imagine him coming through the door, smelling faintly of motor oil and cigarettes, grumbling about something while he kicked off his boots.

But he never did. And you told yourself you’d learn to live with that.

Well, apperantly life had other plans for you, besides drowning in misery.

It had been late — too late for visitors. The kind of hour where the streets outside your apartment were dark and empty, the faint hum of city life muted through the window. You were pouring yourself another cup of tea, trying to wind down from a long day at work. Laura was in her room, tucked away, buried under her blankets as usual.

A knock came at the door.

It startled you; mostly because no one ever came by this late. You set your mug down and padded across the floor, wondering if maybe Laura had ordered something again, some late-night doordash she hadn’t mentioned.

You opened the door. And froze.

The world felt like it tilted sideways for a moment, because there he was. Logan. He looked different, rougher in a way, a little younger than you’d ever seen him. But those eyes, those same dark, stormy eyes — they were unmistakable.

His voice was rougher, too, when he spoke, like it had been scraped against gravel.

“Wade told me I could find you here.”