#he does the anger/bitterness SO well

[the-faultofdaedalus]

gabriel luna deserved an emmy for ghost rider and i am serious about that

[butterfliesandwendigos]

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. BEFORE — Josh Washington

SUMMARY — a rekindled romance with Josh Washington leads to a night of pleasure and requited feelings for one another.

W/C — 6k.

NOTES — written in 2nd person POV, includes smut, smut, SMUT, lowkey a bit of fluff, considering writing a part two involving josh’s psycho prank reveal.

PART ONE | PART TWO

The tension in the room escalates as a heavy silence settles over the group, and the cold air reflects the unease on everyone’s faces. The atmosphere grows thick with unspoken words, and the other friends exchange worried glances, unsure how to intervene in Emily and Jessica’s argument.

Standing in the centre of the room, Josh senses the confrontation spiralling out of control. He takes a deep breath, determination flickering in his eyes as he steps forward, his voice attempting to cut through the mounting anxiety.

“Mike, why don’t you check out the guest cabin? The one I told you about,” he suggests, trying to redirect the group’s attention away from the simmering conflict.

Looking at Jess with an eagerness that masks his concern, Mike jumps at the chance to shift gears. “Yeah, alright. Want to go do that?” he asks Jess, his tone light but tinged with hope.

Still bitter and glaring daggers at Emily, Jess responds with a sharp edge. “Any place without that whore,” she retorts, her voice dripping with disdain. Her eyes flicker to Emily, who stands rigid, hurt and anger swirling in her gaze.

Emily’s fists clench at her sides as she takes in Jess's words. “Wow, Jess. Classy,” she fires back, her voice strained as she struggles to maintain her composure.

Caught between the two, Josh tries to keep the mood light, though disappointment hangs heavy in his heart. “It’s right up the trail,” he chimes in, glancing nervously between them, desperate to diffuse the situation.

Mike, feeling the weight of Jess’s glare, takes her hand and pulls her gently away from the tension. “Let’s go,” he says, leading her toward the door, eager to escape the simmering conflict behind them.

As Jess and Mike step outside, the door clicks shut, leaving a heavy silence in the lodge. The warmth from the fireplace feels suddenly distant, and the atmosphere is charged with unresolved tension. Emily stands frozen for a moment, her heart racing with betrayal and anger, her body trembling as she processes the sting of jealousy.

Josh shakes his head slowly, disappointment etched as he watches Mike and Jess walk away. His eyes linger on Emily, concern flaring up as he witnesses the distress radiating from her. The remaining friends exchange uneasy looks, each uncertain how to navigate the sudden rift that has opened.

Matt, Emily’s boyfriend, stares at her with concern and confusion. He’s distressed by her jealousy, feeling her emotions pressing down on him. “Em, are you okay?” he finally asks, his voice hesitant, trying to bridge the gap between them.

Emily's expression hardens, turns on Matt, frustration spilling out in a flood. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’ll let her treat me like that! And do you know where my pink bag from the rodeo is?” she demands, her voice rising with agitation.

Matt is caught off guard and hesitates before responding. “Uh, I don’t know… I thought you had it with you,” he replies, unsure how to react to her outburst.

Emily’s eyes flash with anger. “Well, I don’t! So we need to find it. Now!” she insists, her tone leaving little room for argument.

With a heavy sigh, Matt nods, resigned to her request. “Okay, let’s look for it,” he replies, attempting to keep his voice steady, even as uncertainty lingers in his gaze.

Across the room, Sam, sensing the tension, tries to control her situation. “I’m going to have a nice, warm bath,” she announces, her voice breaking through the thick silence. “Maybe some relaxation will help.” She gives the group a small smile but does little to ease the tension.

As the air in the lodge remains heavy with tension, Josh takes it upon himself to bring some warmth back into the space. He moves toward the fireplace, fumbling with kindling and logs, determined to ignite a fire that can literally and metaphorically chase away the chill. He strikes a match, watching it flicker momentarily before it catches, the flame dancing to life.

His eyes search yours, filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability. At that moment, the noise of the lodge fades into the background, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones left in the room, standing on the precipice of a more profound connection amidst the chaos of friendship and rivalry.

Meanwhile, Ashley and Chris sit together in the corner of the room, their eyes darting nervously around the space. The silence between them stretches, filled only by the crackling of the match against the wood.

Ashley fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, her cheeks flushed slightly. “It’s pretty intense, right?” she replies, trying to keep her tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. “I never thought it would get that heated. We’re supposed to be here to have fun, not fight.”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s like, one minute we’re all friends, and the next… everyone’s at each other’s throats.” He glances over at Josh, who is still wrestling with the logs in the fireplace, trying to coax a flame to grow. “You think he’s going to be okay? I mean, he’s trying so hard to keep things together.”

Ashley nods, her eyes following Josh’s movements. “I hope so. He’s a good guy, you know? He wants everyone to have a good time. It’s just… hard to watch everyone fight like this.”

Chris, sensing a moment of connection, leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I appreciate how you always try to keep things positive. I wish I could be more like that sometimes.”

Ashley looks at him, her heart fluttering a little at the compliment. “Thanks, Chris. That means a lot,” she replies softly, a shy smile creeping onto her face.

Before they can delve deeper into their conversation, Sam returns down the stairs, a towel draped over her shoulder. She looks a bit flustered, running a hand through her damp hair. “Hey, guys,” she calls out, her voice bright but tinged with frustration. “I just checked the bath, and the gas is off, so the water’s cold. Great, right?”

Josh is still focused on getting the fire to catch and grimaces. “Seriously? That’s not what I needed to hear right now,” he mutters, finally coaxing a small flame into existence.

Sam rolls her eyes playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, let’s just add it to the list of things going wrong tonight.”

Josh, however, takes the news in stride and turns toward you with a spark of determination in his eyes. “Y/N, how about we go to the basement and check the gas? It shouldn’t be too complicated, and I could use the extra hands.”

Ashley and Chris exchange glances, their conversation momentarily forgotten. “Do you think you can fix it?” Chris asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

Josh nods confidently, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath the bravado. “Yeah, it’s probably just a quick adjustment.”

Sam shrugs, a smile returning to her face. “I’ll keep an eye on the fire for you guys. Just don’t blow anything up, okay?”

“Promise,” Josh replies, flashing a grin as he heads toward the basement door, glancing back at you. “You coming, Y/N?”

Josh’s hopeful gaze offers a chance for distraction, perhaps even a moment to connect without the chaos of the others hanging overhead.

“Yeah, I’m in,” you respond, pushing off from your seat. You can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline at the idea of stepping away from the drama and into the unknown of the basement with Josh.

He smiles, a mixture of relief and excitement crossing his features. “Awesome. Let’s go.”

Together, you head toward the basement door, the creaky wood floorboards echoing softly behind you. As Josh opens the door, a rush of cool air greets you, starkly contrasting the lodge's warmth. The darkness beyond is thick, with only a few dim lights flickering in the distance.

“Do you have a flashlight?” you ask, glancing back at him.

“Yeah, I got one,” he replies, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, rugged flashlight. He flicks it on, illuminating a narrow staircase that leads down into the gloom.

You descend the stairs together, the light casting long shadows against the stone walls. The air grows more relaxed, a bit musty, filled with the scent of old wood and dust. As you reach the bottom, the beam reveals an assortment of old furniture covered in sheets, boxes piled high, and the occasional rustle of a rat scurrying away.

“Welcome to the dungeon,” Josh jokes, trying to keep the atmosphere light as he sweeps the flashlight across the room. “Quite the sight, huh?”

You chuckle, appreciating his attempt at humour. “At least it’s not filled with creepy dolls or something.”

Josh nods, stepping further inside. “Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on with the gas.” He moves to a panel on the wall, inspecting it closely. “It shouldn’t be too complicated. Just a valve adjustment, I think.”

You step closer, watching him with a mix of admiration and concern. He looks determined, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he kneels to get a better look at the mechanism. The moment feels profound and fragile as you and Josh exchange lingering glances. But the sudden crash from the living room jolts you back into the present. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and take a deep breath.

“I think it came from upstairs,” you reply, your pulse quickening as your heart races. “Should we check it out?”

Josh hesitates, glancing toward the stairs. “Maybe we should finish with the gas first? If it’s nothing, we don’t want to leave it unattended.”

You nod, trying to push aside the unease creeping into your thoughts. “Right, let’s focus on this first.”

With renewed determination, you both turn your attention back to the valve. After a few moments of adjustments and checking gauges, Josh finally gives a satisfied nod. “I think that should do it. Let’s head back upstairs and let them know.”

As you return to the stairs, the unsettling feeling in your gut lingers, amplifying the sense that something isn’t right. The sounds of the lodge—laughter, tension, muffled voices—float down to you, becoming a mix of reassurance and dread.

Just as you reach the top of the stairs, another loud noise reverberates through the lodge, a sharp sound like something heavy being knocked over. You exchange worried glances with Josh, both of you feeling the shift in the atmosphere.

“What was that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Josh replies, his tone serious as he tightens his grip on the flashlight. “But we need to find out.”

With that, you both step back into the main room, the previous tensions overshadowed by an unfamiliar fear. The crackling of the fire is drowned out by hurried footsteps and raised voices, the friends agitated by whatever’s happening.

“Did you hear that?” Josh asks, his eyes darting around the room.

You nod, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. “We need to stick together,” you suggest a quiet resolve forming between you.

“Stay behind me,” he replies, stepping closer as you prepare to confront whatever lurks in the shadows. The night is far from over, and the real challenge has only begun.

Just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, a sudden flash of colour catches your eye. Before you can react, Chris bursts into the hallway, wearing a ridiculous, oversized bathrobe with a floppy hat and fuzzy slippers. He strikes a dramatic pose, grinning widely.

“Behold! The Phantom of the Lodge!” he exclaims, his voice booming as he swings his arms for effect.

You jump back, letting out a surprised yelp. Instinctively, you grab Josh’s arm, clinging to him tightly as your heart races. “Oh my God, Chris! You scared me!”

Josh chuckles, his initial shock melting into laughter as he steadies you. “Seriously, man? This is the best you could come up with?”

Chris leans into his performance, spinning around in the robe and throwing his hands up. “What? You don’t like my haunting style? I thought I’d bring some fun to this dreary evening!”

You can’t help but laugh, the night's tension momentarily dissipating as you release Josh’s arm, albeit reluctantly. “I mean, if the ghost you’re trying to scare is one of my nightmares, then sure, it’s working!”

Josh shakes his head, still smiling. “You need to get better at hiding, Chris. That was way too easy.”

Chris pretends to be offended, placing a hand over his heart. “Easy? I’m a master of scare tactics! Just look at my costume!” He twirls again, the robe billowing dramatically around him. “If I were a real ghost, I’d have you all quaking in your boots!”

Josh rolls his eyes but can’t help but smile at Chris’s antics. “You might want to reconsider your career choices, buddy. You’re more likely to make us laugh than scream.”

The lighthearted banter creates a much-needed distraction, and the tension from earlier seems to fade a bit. You take a deep breath, feeling more at ease, though you still chuckle as Chris prays around in his ridiculous outfit.

“Okay, okay, you’ve had your fun,” you say, finally regaining your composure. “But seriously, let’s focus. We must check on the others and see what’s happening.”

Chris drops the act, his playful demeanour shifting to concern. “Right, right. I just thought a little laughter would lighten the mood. Things have been pretty intense tonight.”

“Yeah, they have,” Josh agrees, his expression turning serious again. “But let’s get back out there and have some fun.”

As you enter the main room, the lingering echoes of laughter from Chris’s antics fade into the background, replaced by the familiar tension that still lingers among the group. You glance at Josh, feeling the weight of your unresolved feelings.

“Hey, Josh,” you say, lowering your voice to ensure Chris doesn’t overhear. “Can we talk for a second? Like… about last year?”

Josh’s expression shifts, a mix of curiosity and concern. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I feel like we’ve both been avoiding it. Everything that happened before...”

His gaze softens, the vulnerability in his eyes mirroring your own. “Before my sisters disappeared.”

Just then, Chris, standing a few feet away, suddenly perks up. He catches Josh’s eye and raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Uh, I’ll be waiting over there,” he says, gesturing to a corner of the room. “You two take your time.”

You can’t help but smile at Chris’s teasing, but Josh rolls his eyes, a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks. “Thanks, Chris. We’ll try to keep it brief,” he replies, trying to suppress a grin.

As Chris saunters away, you turn back to Josh, feeling a rush of nervous energy. “So, where do we even start?” you ask, glancing around to ensure no one else is listening.

“I guess we start with the fact that I missed you,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “When everything happened, my only focus was on finding my sisters. But I’ve thought about you a lot and regret not saying anything sooner.”

You feel your heart flutter at his words. “I missed you too. I didn’t want to complicate things when you already dealt with so much.”

“I know,” he replies, his expression pained. “And I appreciate you allowing me time to heal with my parents. Last year was such a mess. I’m just glad you had nothing to do with Hannah’s prank,” Josh admits, stepping towards you.

“Never, I could never have anything to do with that,” You say softly, giving him a warm smile.

He nods, his gaze unwavering. “I know. It would’ve hurt me a lot if you did.”

After a few moments, you poke some fun at the tension lingering from the past. “You know,” you say playfully, “I couldn’t have possibly been part of Hannah’s prank. Thanks to you last year, I was too busy being in a compromising position.”

Josh raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh really? Care to elaborate on that?”

You can feel the moment's weight hanging in the air, the tension from earlier dissipating as you lock eyes with Josh. The connection between you feels electric, and for a fleeting moment, the chaos of the lodge fades into the background.

You raise an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Are you trying to charm me, Josh?”

“Maybe,” he replies, leaning slightly closer, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been known to have that effect on people. And honestly, what sane woman could resist it?”

Josh glances back to ensure no one is watching before he reaches out, gently brushing your arm with his hand. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says, his voice low and inviting.

As you both make your way toward the staircase, a voice interrupts your moment. Chris and Ashley round the corner, eyebrows raised in unison.

“Hey! Where are you two sneaking off to?” Chris calls out, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

You exchange a glance with Josh; both are caught off guard. “Uh, just... checking out the view from upstairs!” you manage to say, attempting to sound casual.

“Yeah, you know,” Josh adds quickly, “the top floor has the best spot for stargazing. I just wanted to make sure we don’t miss it.

Ashley leans in, her expression sceptical. “Right. Because you two need alone time for stargazing.” She smirks, clearly not buying it.

Josh nods, his grin still plastered on his face. “Yeah, we just want to hang out for a bit. You know how it is—sometimes you need a break from the chaos.”

Chris and Ashley exchange a knowing look, and you can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up under their scrutiny. “All right, all right,” Chris finally concedes, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply, rolling your eyes, a grin breaking through.

With one last playful eye-roll from Ashley and an exaggerated sigh from Chris, they leave you and Josh standing at the base of the stairs.

You and Josh make your way down the dimly lit hallway, the faint sound of the wind howling outside, barely breaking the heavy silence. The air feels cold against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You instinctively lean closer to him, and he responds by wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in a little tighter to keep you warm.

“Is it just me, or does it feel like this place gets colder the further we walk?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite the chill.

Josh chuckles softly, glancing down at you. “Yeah but don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He squeezes you gently, his warmth radiating through his skin, making you feel more at ease.

As you approach his room, the door looks more inviting against the shadows filling the hallway. Josh stops just outside, looking down at you with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. He turns the handle and opens the door, revealing a cozy space with warm lighting, the comforting scent of wood, and something faintly sweet. As he steps inside, you follow him, and he quickly shuts the door behind you, locking it with a soft click.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifts. The hallway's darkness is replaced by the warm glow of a bedside lamp, illuminating the room and casting soft shadows on the walls. It feels intimate and safe here.

Josh’s gaze drops to your lips briefly, and everything shifts in that instant. The air between you crackles with electricity, and before you can process it, he closes the distance, cupping your face gently with his hands.

Time seems to slow as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly as your heart races. And then, his lips find yours, soft and tentative at first, as if testing the waters.

You respond instinctively, leaning into him, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate as the tension and unspoken feelings from before surging to the surface. It feels natural as if this moment has been building for far longer than the few minutes you’ve been alone. The warmth of his body envelops you, and you lose yourself in the sensation, the world outside fading entirely from your mind.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look into Josh’s eyes, searching for the same emotions you feel swirling inside you. His cheeks are flushed, and his gaze’s a look of wonder.

Your warmth intensifies as your lips meet again, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, a blend of pent-up emotions and undeniable attraction. Josh’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. The world outside the door fades entirely, leaving only the sound of your heart beating in sync.

You feel excitement as he deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a newfound hunger. His hands explore your back, fingers brushing against the fabric of your sweater, sending shivers down your spine. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," Josh murmurs against your lips, his breath warm and heavy, making your heart race even faster.

"Me too," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, the thrill of his admission sending a wave of excitement through you. As if sensing your need for more, he deepens the kiss, and you melt into him.

You feel his hands explore your sides, fingers brushing against your skin, igniting every nerve ending. The sensations swirl around you, and you lose yourself in the sweetness of his kiss, his intoxicating taste. Josh pulls you closer, the pressure of his body against yours, heightening the tension. You can feel the heat radiating off him, pulling you in like a magnet. The kiss becomes more frantic and desperate, as if you're afraid of what might happen if you stop.

When you break apart momentarily, Josh’s eyes dark with desire. "I can't believe it took us this long to do this again," he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sends shivers through you, and you lean into him, craving more.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans in again, capturing your lips in a soft and demanding kiss. You feel the fire between you intensify, and you sigh softly as you return the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and you can feel his warmth against you, making it hard to think. The world outside ceases to exist; the two of you are wrapped up in this moment.

"Y/N," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, desires flickering in his gaze. He gestures towards your top, tugging at the bottom of it. “Can I?"

Your heart races at the question, but the answer feels instinctual. "Yes," you reply, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions.

With a spark of determination, Josh slides your t-shirt over your head. His hands slide down your back, gripping your hips as he pulls you closer, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He pulls you down with him, guiding you onto his lap.

As you settle onto his lap, the heat between you grows palpable. Josh's hands remain firm on your hips, grounding you in the moment—his gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, filled with hunger and tenderness.

With a swift movement, he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing toned muscles that glisten softly in the dim light. The sight sends a rush of excitement through you, and your breath catches in your throat.

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I want to see you." The request ignites a thrill of anticipation within you.

Josh's fingers trace the delicate curve of your spine as he gently removes your bra, letting it fall to the floor unnoticed. His gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he takes in the sight of you. The room is quiet except for your joint breaths, each heavier than the last.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

He doesn't wait for a response. Instead, his hands slide around to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You gasp, arching into his touch, your head tilting back instinctively.

"So responsive," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jawline as he moves closer to your ear. "I love how you react to my touch."

His words tingle your skin, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs. You want more of his hands, mouth, and more of him. You nod, unable to form words through the haze of desire clouding your mind.

With a wicked grin, Josh shifts his grip, one hand still playing with your nipple while the other slides down to your waistband. He tugs at your leggings, pulling it down your hips until it crumples at your thighs. Your panties are now exposed, and he wastes no time reaching under them, his fingers brushing against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands softly, his voice firm but not unkind.

You obey, parting your legs slightly, allowing him better access. His fingers continue their journey upward, dipping just inside the edge of your panties before finding their target. You feel the pad of his index finger glide over your clit, a slow, teasing stroke that makes you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

"That’s it," he encourages, adding another finger to circle your clit faster. "Let me hear you."

The combination of his dirty talk and touch pushes you closer to the edge. You try to maintain some semblance of control, but his fingers on your clit have reduced you to a quivering mess. Your breath comes in short gasps, and you can feel the tension building rapidly inside you.

“Josh…” you manage to whisper, your voice cracking as waves of pleasure begin to crest.

He responds by pressing harder, his thumb circling your nipple while his fingers work magic between your legs. The sensations are too intense, and you know you won't last much longer. Your body stiffens, muscles tightening as you feel the familiar rush of an impending orgasm.

"Cum for me," he orders, his voice laced with authority. "Show me how much you like my fingers."

Those words tip you over the edge. A cry escapes your lips as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you, your body trembling with the force of your release. Josh doesn't let up, continuing to stroke you through the aftershocks, ensuring every ounce of pleasure is wrung from your body.

When the tremors finally subside, you collapse against him, weak and breathless. Josh pulls his fingers away, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. The look in his eyes tells you this is far from over.

"Now," he says, his voice rough with unspent desire, "it's my turn."

He stands up, lifting you effortlessly and laying you back onto the bed. You watch as he quickly sheds the rest of his clothes, revealing his hard, eager cock. He positions himself between your legs, his hands resting on either side of your head as he hovers above you, maintaining that intense eye contact.

"Tell me what you want," he demands, his tone brooking no refusal.

You bite your lip, considering your answer. The power dynamic has shifted, and you feel thrilled at being under his command. But you also know what you want—what you need.

"I want you inside me," you confess, your voice soft but clear. "Please, Josh."

A smile curves his lips, triumphant and possessive. "Good girl," he murmurs, lowering himself until his cock brushes against your entrance. "This might hurt a little at first. I want you to take every inch."

You nod, understanding the challenge. He slowly pushes forward, stretching you, filling you. The initial sting gives way to a deep, throbbing pleasure as he sinks deeper, inch by agonisingly delicious inch. You clutch at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself as he continues his relentless advance.

"All of it," he growls, his muscles straining as he reaches the hilt. "Take all of me."

You whimper, overwhelmed by the fullness but also by the primal rush of having him entirely inside you. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust, his hands moving to cradle your face as he gazes down at you.

"Are you ready?" he asks, though it sounds more like a statement.

Before you can answer, he pulls out slightly and then thrusts back in, which is more challenging this time. The impact makes your breath hitch, and you can't help but cry out at its intensity. He repeats the motion, each thrust more vigorous than the last, pushing you higher and higher.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he mutters, his voice strained. "So tight."

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you meet his thrusts, your hips rising to greet him. The rhythm builds, becoming more frantic, more desperate. The world narrows down to just the two of you, locked in this primal dance of lust and need.

Suddenly, he changes pace, slowing down just enough to tilt his hips differently. The angle hits a spot deep inside you that makes your vision blur with pleasure. You can feel your second climax approaching, and you cling to him for dear life.

"Josh... I'm close," you gasp, your voice barely audible.

He smiles darkly, taking that as his cue. "Then cum all over me," he says, speeding up again. "Let go."

His words trigger something within you, and you feel the dam break as another powerful orgasm rips through you. Your body convulses beneath him, and you moan his name as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

Josh doesn’t stop his thrusts, making them harder and rougher with each stroke. You begin to feel the slick between your legs turn into a gush, tiny droplets of your heat squirting on his pelvis. He slides out and pushes back in, going deeper each time. You feel his hands on your hips as he thrusts into you harder and harder, your slick still flying onto his abdomen. He looks into your eyes with a wicked smirk, his cock never slowing.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you mumble, barely coherent.

You feel like you’re on fire, your muscles are so tense they feel like they’re about to snap, your body is clenching down on him so hard it hurts, and you feel yourself pouring like a waterfall.

Josh suddenly stops and flips you on your side, his body following suit as he lays behind you. You feel his arms wrap around your waist, his chin nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“You know I’m not kidding when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers into your neck.

You feel him stiffen behind you and realise he’s still inside you. You moan quietly, and he slowly starts to move again. His hands grip your hips, and he picks up the pace, fucking you harder this time. You push back into him, your body desperate for his cock.

“I knew…” he grunts, his movements getting faster and faster. “I knew it the first night we met.”

You gasp at his words and start to feel another orgasm build. His cock hits a different spot inside you this time, and you feel it fill you. You begin to shake and moan as your muscles clench down on him. He lets out a loud groan, and his movements become more erratic.

“I’m gonna cum,” he moans. You feel him pick up the pace and drive himself into you repeatedly. His cock swells inside you, and you feel his hot release cover your walls. His cum floods your pussy as he fucks you through his orgasm. He collapses behind you and pulls out. You feel his cum dripping out of you and look over your shoulder at him. He’s watching your pussy with a look of satisfaction on his face.

Josh wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer into his embrace. “I shouldn’t have left you for so long. I’ve been so caught up with Hannah and Beth disappearing… but seeing you tonight reminded me of everything I’ve always felt for you.”

You stay silent, waiting to hear his following words. A short while later, you feel him getting up. You roll over onto your back and watch as he walks away, naked and utterly comfortable in his own body. He disappears out the door and returns a minute later, holding a box of tissues and a damp washcloth.

He climbs into bed, pressing the washcloth to your pussy. “I want to take care of you. I want to make sure you feel good.”

“I want to take care of you too, Josh,” You whisper, voice barely above a whisper. You’re exhausted but relaxed beyond any relaxation you’ve ever experienced.

“I love that you’re all fucked out for me,” he says. You smile at him and watch as he tosses the washcloth away and opens the box of tissues.

He pulls out a few and gently wipes his cock clean. He looks up at you as he does it, watching your reaction to him cleaning himself. You feel your body start to get warm, and your nipples perk up at the sight. He smiles as he realises what’s happening.

“I’m tempted to go for round 2, but I think it would be kind of rude for the house host to disappear for long periods… even if it’s to spend time with a super gorgeous woman,” Josh says, throwing the used tissues onto the floor and crawling back into bed with you.

“Let’s lay here for a little while,” You tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to you. He pulls the blankets over both of your naked bodies and comfortably wraps his arms around your body.

“We can lay here, but not for too long; the others will come busting in here and find us naked,” Josh laughs, playing with the hair strands dangling over your chest.

“Fine,” You yawn, feeling yourself slip into a deep slumber, “We’ll only stay for… a little… while.”

Yawn after yawn, your physical tiredness overtook your awakened state. Slowly, your eyes closed, and your muscles relaxed into the comfort of Josh’s mattress.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Josh whispers into your ear, unaware of your sleeping state. He hears a slight, feminine-sounding snore and peers over your body, observing your half-open mouth and closed eyes.

Kissing you on the forehead, Josh slowly gets out of bed and gets dressed. He has big plans for tonight, sadistic, messed-up plans… and he wanted you to have no part in it.

[emacrow]

The meeting of Gods and Goddesses around a large stone table watching, with Shazam easedropping.

Warning may include death of a child, please be advise.

"How could this have possible had occurred?!?!"

"I thought Hades made sure the bones of Kronos could never had been recovered?!?"

"..."

"Hades..?" Persephone said softly, holding Hades's tightly gripped fist on the table. Hades remained quiet, his face remained unchanged from the grumpy ticked off look that he held while among the other Gods and Goddess who glare or glance at him.

"It's not my fault that Ceberus was throwing up due to indigestion, Blame Cupid over there for sending me white chocolates skulls instead of Bitter chocolate when he knew I hate despised them." Hades stated placing his other hand onto Persephone's hand, caressing it softly.

Poseiden can admit it was a valid accused, but it was beginning to get a bit unnerving to see Zeus so quiet yet Angry with how intense he was glaring at the clear vision from the Shazam's host seeing Kronos and the godling babe while the other gods accused one another.

He look at the babe then back at angered Zeus, then glance back before a sudden realization hit him faster then a tsunami..

"You're not the youngest anymore.. now aren't you?" Poseiden blurted out loud causing every one at the table to Freeze, Zeus stiffen as the very clouds surrounding underneath their table rumbled with Lightening..

"How Dare You!?!"

Zeus growled menacingly summoning his prized lightening bolt in his hand before he can continue speaking, his temper nearly boiling.

"Well, he does have a point.. that babe reminded me vaguely of the corpse that was founded in Kronos's stomach.. but I thought it was because the babe was already dead as the soul was already gone due to how crowded it was in there." Hades commented, looking as though he was remembering a distant past..

"It should had stay dead where I had found it!" Zeus snapped at Hades before his eyes widen, covering his mouth quickly as the a kept secret had slipped out.

The Gods and Goddesses were stunned at the sudden secret revealed. If Zeus was not the youngest, then does that mean the godling babe shown before them was the one supposed to rules them?

"What happened on that day, Zeus?" Hera said softly as to tried to calm Zeus's nerves.

Zeus gritted his teeth before he close his eyes, ans sighed, seeing how everyone will only pursue the truth more later.

"It was after I pulled you all out of Father's stomach, only then I saw that there was a extra one sleeping unborn seemingly looking stillborn with a cord wrapped around, nested underneath Father's heart, I was about to grabbed it and pull it out as well, but then..it shifted as it was some kind of modern glitch, a girl one second, a boy a second after, black hair flash to white hair and back, before I saw it's eyes. It's eyes look inhumane Green and more souless then the titans. I realized that it was the youngest and not I... I was already enraged at the point of the prophecy wasn't about me before I even knew what I had done. I had snapped it's neck just as it was about to take it first breath and pulled it out of him, Father knew what I had done the moment the babe fell out lifeless and that was when he becomes truly descented into madness." Zeus said with his hands tighten into fists as he look like he was reliving a memory.

Part 4 << >> Part 6

[chleem]

Hallow's eve

Oneshot; exes drew x yn

Summary: drew wasn’t the type to get jealous. And tonight, on hallow’s eve, is his first time experiencing this bitter emotion. 

Genre: exes to lovers, smut, angst, fluff 

Warnings: cursing, unprotected sex, etc

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ happy halloween!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“You can’t be fucking serious,”

Drew laughs bitterly, his eyes landing on you. 

The light blue corset, leathered mini-skirt, police badge, duty belt, and bunny ears are all too recognizable to him. A seducing touch to the costume of Judy Hopps from Zootopia. It shows off your curves beautifully, everything about it made you look more sensual than usual. 

But the main reason for his bitterness isn’t because of your costume, rather…who you’re matching with. 

His friend Paul. Whose wearing what was supposed to be Drew’s, the Nick Wilde costume. 

Fuck. It’s been a month since the breakup, and you show up with his friend?

“Shit, did you know about this?”

Drew forces his eyes away from you, turning the Keith. His lips are pursed, clenching on his jaw tightly. All the emotions are coming back to him all at once; regret, anger, and confused. “Does it look like I know?” He doesn’t even try to hide the sourness in his voice. 

Keith nervously glances to the side; he knows Drew isn’t over you. Hell, Drew didn’t even try to get over you, and everyone knew it. Dated for a year…how is one suppose to forget about that? “Shit man…”

Drew sighs, turning his gaze back to you. He hasn’t seen you for a whole month…and you looked beautiful. 

And Drew of course knew how much he missed you, shit, everything he did he thought of you. Waking up? Why weren’t you in his bed. Showering? Why weren’t you helping him wash his hair. Eating? Why weren’t you sitting in the seat beside him. 

And seeing you hold Paul’s hand, greeting others with a soft smile; that should be him standing beside you. 

“They’re…probably not even together,” Keith tries to make the situation look better than it is. 

Then, while you’re talking to someone dressed as a mummy, Paul distracts himself by planting kisses along your jaw. “Not together, huh?” Drew snickers at the audacity of Paul, doing that to you. He should know better than to touch what’s his. 

Drew’s whole costume feels annoying now. Obviously, breaking up with you meant having no costume. So, he improvised to dress up as Patrick Bateman, from American Psycho. 

He shrugs the clear raincoat off, hanging it on a random coat hanger that happens to be in a kitchen. He loosens his tie, pouring himself another round of drinks. 

When Drew glances at Keith, he sees a sly smile on his face. What the fuck-

“You’re jealous, man.”

Jealous? To Drew, it was an ugly and immature emotion. Only insecure people feel that way. Drew wasn’t insecure, god no.

No. That just wasn’t who Drew was, to be jealous. 

Besides, what’s there to be jealous of? He knows you too well, you’re definitely just bitter. Because out of all his friends, you hate Paul the most.

His mind was just playing tricks on him. 

But fuck- how much he wanted to punch Paul still, and claim the spot next to you. 

“No,” Drew laughs it off, sounding as if he’s being held at gunpoint. He downs the drink in his hand in one sip, and says more firmly this time, “no.”

Keith raises an eyebrow at him; obviously not believing his friend. “Nah, you jealous. Jealous that Paul gets all that now.”

Ew. That thought disgusts Drew. “Fuck off-“

Someone yells for a game of truth or dare in the living room. Drew’s eyes immediately find themselves on you, even with the huge amount of costumes in here. Paul ushers you to join; reluctantly, you follow him. 

Seems like Drew’s also playing. 

——

Amidst the loud Halloween party, a game of truth or dare begins. Refusing to answer or do the dare, results in a penalty drink. 

Paul’s hand on your thigh makes you want to throw up. You hated this guy; why, out of anyone, did you ask him to be your date?

Your stupid pride got the worst of you, refusing to show up at the party alone, especially with the chance of seeing Drew. You suspected that he must have moved on, so you decided to show how ‘well’ you were doing.

Wrong. Everyone close to you knew how many sleepless nights you’ve had in the last month, depressed and withered away in your room. Really, getting ready tonight was an impossible task too. 

Paul is…disrespectful, awkward, inappropriate, the list goes on. He’s not close with Drew; but still, it bothered you that he was always at hangouts. Once, he made a move on you (a rather rude, pushy one) while you were still with Drew. 

Yep. Now thinking back, you would’ve preferred to come alone instead of with this prick. 

“You good?”

Yeah, if you take your hand off me. “Lovely,” you manage to breathe out, focusing your gaze at the circle that has now formed in the living room. 

Your eyes land on Drew; pulling a random chair and sitting down, manspreading. He never looked finer, in his American Psycho costume. And plus, his hair. The last time you saw him, he had bangs. Not that this new buzzcut looked bad; it gave a whole new demeanor to Drew, one that was more matured. 

Wow. Looking at him, you realize how much you miss him. You wanted to go sit next to him, run your hands through his buzzcut, and just talk to him, hear his deep, calming voice. 

Shit. He makes eye contact with you, and for the first time, you can’t tell what’s on his mind. Is he mad? Regretful? Or does he…even care? You watch as his eyes scan down your body, lingering longer on your legs. Or rather, Paul’s hand there. 

“Alright…who wants to go first?” Some person you don’t know, speaks up, sitting down on the couch. 

The eye contact breaks, with Drew turning his face away, drinking the cup in his hand. 

Huh.

Someone volunteers for a dare, but you don’t show much interest. This is a stupid game anyways. 

During the game, Paul would whisper something dirty in your ear, which honestly, pissed you off more. When he kissed your jaw earlier, that was already crossing the line. But you could feel someone watching you intensively, so you go along with it; smiling, whispering back, responding to his touches. You hoped that someone would call on you, just so you could leave Paul’s side for a while. 

And as if some angel heard you, halfway through the game-

“Drew, truth or dare?”

That caught your attention, but you try not to show it. You make subtle glances in his direction, wondering what he was going to chose. 

“Dare,” his voice is deep, just like how you last remembered it. 

The person asking was his friend, Keith. He hung around so much, that you can easily recognize the mischievous glint in his eyes; he’s gonna say something crazy. 

You’re right; because he says, “7 minutes in heaven. With y/n.”

The people in the circle all murmur and woo, in anticipation. Great. Was there anyone here that didn’t know about the breakup?

You can’t help but smile down at your lap, at how ridiculous this dare is. Surely, Drew wouldn’t say yes, right? You couldn’t tell; his face showed no emotion towards that dare. 

“Say no, alright?” Paul’s disgusting voice forces you to look over at him. 

Did you want to say no? 

You take a good look at Paul’s face; maybe saying no isn’t the worst idea. Being locked somewhere awkward with Drew sounded better than…actually, better than anything. 

Suddenly, you feel a heavy presence standing close to you. And when you look over, it’s Drew. He stands in front of you, and he holds out a hand for you to take.

You look up at his face, hints of eagerness only you could notice. He nods gently towards his hand, telling you to take it. 

“Yo dude, she doesn’t wants to go-“

You take it. Your hand comes in contact with the familiar warmth, the hands that you always found comfort in. You let him pull you out of Paul’s arms, a little too rough, and you stumble a bit. 

You smile awkwardly, holding onto his hand hard to regain your balance. “Hey, I’ll be here waiting for you,” Paul continues to say. 

“Sure,” you force out, adjusting your skirt. Deep down, you’ve never been more glad to be rescued by Drew. 

——

He’s walking at a fast pace, and with his grip on your hand tight, you can tell how urgent he is. His patience slips away with each tug he gives to each door he passes by, occupied by strangers already. 

“Maybe we should just give up-“

The last door is budged opened, and when the two of you glance inside, it’s empty. 

“Great,” you murmur awkwardly, before forcing your hand out of his. You don’t want to do so; but given the current situation between you two, it’ll feel weird if you continue to hold his hand. 

You brush past him into the small bedroom, and sit yourself on the bed. This bunny headband was getting itchy, so you take it off, putting it beside you. 

You watch as Drew locks the door behind him, sliding his suit jacket off. Woah, woah, woah, is he stripping? “Um…what are you doing?”

His blue eyes stare blankly into yours; as he lazily rolls his sleeves up. “the walking, it gets hot.”

Oh. He…yeah, it might get too hot from all the fast walking. Why would he strip? Drew wasn’t that kind of person, what were you thinking? You look down at your lap; embarrassed of your own thoughts. 

Well…this is awkward. The only sound in here was the faint music from downstairs. 

And then Drew sits down on the bed, next to you. The mattress dips under his weight, his scent (he smells real good) hitting you, and just his overall presence. 

That damn buzzcut. What even motivated him to get his entire head shaved? You were curious; and you wanted to know what happened to him in the past month. Was he also miserable like you? Or did he forget about everything-

“Paul, huh?”

He’s leaned forward; so you can’t really tell his expressions. But his voice comes out deep and almost hushed, like he needed to force it out. 

Your heart was beating fast, why were you nervous? It was just Drew; you’ve dated him for a year, known him for more than that. Yet, every action and word he says can still made you flustered. “Well, he has a thing for me.”

Was that the right response? You weren’t sure; Drew answers a few seconds later, “I know,” you watch his back muscles through his see-through button up tense, “just didn’t know you had a thing for him.”

Almost forgot how well he knew you. “People can change,” you shrug, trying to act cool. 

That earns a ‘tsk’ of disapproval from him, and he leans back. He turns towards you; the pretty blue of his eyes staring into yours. “Not you.”

“Could say the same about you,” you bitterly reply, referring to the breakup. It was out of character for him to just dump you, saying he was ‘busy’. A dick move, to be honest. 

Drew rolls his eyes upward; as if thinking of a response. His lips are slightly pursed; and you see the amusement in them. 

“Am I wrong?” You press, and suddenly, the depression from the past month has surfaced into anger. Anger towards Drew. “You have no right to say that-“

“You’re dating Paul,” he emphasizes on the last part, his eyebrows furrowed at you. “Paul, for god’s sake.”

You shake your head, a sour smile on your lips. The anger inside of you begs to be released, and as a way of spreading it out, you stand up. So mad, you can’t even sit still. “So what? Why do you care, we broke up-“

“A month, only for a month!” He raises his voice slightly louder than yours, and he also stands up now. This escalated fast. “And Paul. Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes I am! More than ever, you got a problem with that?” You provoke, the two of you standing in less than a meter from each other. He stares down at you, and even with your angered mind, his proximity still drives you insane. “Let’s not forget that you dumped me-“

“You’re dating Paul?” He asks once again, realizing that you didn’t correct him from earlier. His face shows it all; betrayal and disgust.

 You laugh at him, rather distastefully, “Do you not hear yourself right now? You’re worried about that-“

“You dating him or not?”

He just stays in place, towering over you. That question lingers in the air, his jealousy heavy. He watches you, and you see a mixture of longing and frustration in them. He’s practically begging you with his eyes at this point. 

The devil on your shoulder pushes you to lie, “we’ve been seeing each other.”

He immediately steps away from you, pacing around the room with his hands running through his scalp. He turns back around to you, but stands at a distance now, “y/n, what the fuck-“

“Why are you getting mad at me?” You yell back, your voice cracking. 

“I don’t believe you,” he harshly denies, shaking his head. 

Fights with Drew was never like this; he would apologize quickly and fix the problem. Tonight? You might’ve just pissed him off to the point of no return. 

You tuck your hair behind your ears, before placing them on your hips firmly. “Well, that’s the truth, whether you like it or not-“

“I don’t fucking believe you, y/n,” he denies once again. 

“You saw him around me, what else do you-“

“I don’t believe you,” he repeats, closing the distance between the two of you again. You gulp at his presence towering over you; this time, there’s an edge to his demeanor. Knowing that you lied, it felt dangerous to be standing this close to him. “You’re bluffing, I know it.”

The sharpness in his eyes glints with challenge, searching for the truth in yours. He won’t be easily swayed; he knew you too well. 

You cock your head to the side, the same challenge in your eyes that mirrors back to him. You don’t miss it; the jealously in his. He’s jealous right now! 

No wayyy he’s jealous. Years you’ve known him; never once have you seen him jealous. Drew was that kind of person; unbothered and sure about himself. At first it frustrated you, it seemed like he didn’t care. But you soon learned that it just meant he trusted you, never questioning about your friendships or interactions.

But still, he’s jealous right now! For the very first time! And you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t tease him about it. C’mon, this man was jealous of Paul. How cute. “You’re jealous,” you say, failing to hide the amusement in your tone. “You’re fucking jealous right now-“

“No,” he firmly denies it. 

“Yes, you are. You, Drew Starkey, is jealous-“

“I’m not fucking-“

“Yes! You’re jealous!” You point out, a bit too cheerful at that. You almost forget that you’re suppose to be angry at him, “You’re bitter that it’s not you-“

“Gosh, you’re driving me insane,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “I don’t feel that way-“

“Oh, you totally are,” you say, taking a few steps back and snickering. Gosh, this is fun to make fun of. “Drew Starkey’s jealous for the first time-“

Drew’s lips come in contact with yours, his tongue thrusting into yours urgently. 

Woah.

You didn’t even realize he had closed the gap again; his hands cupping your face to trap you into him. You hit his chest to push him away; but the longer his lips attach to yours, the softer your hits were. 

Alcohol. You taste that on his lips, pretty sure yours too. 

Yet, like a second nature, your body and brain reacts to Drew in a submissive way, kissing him back. You can’t help it; the warmth of his hands on either sides of your face, his soft lips…everything about him. Everything about him is endearing to you. 

In this moment, you realized you could never truly get over Drew. And quite frankly, you don’t want to. 

He pulls away, but his hands still remain on your face. “I’m not jealous,” he murmurs, his lidded-eyes gazing down at your lips then back your eyes. His chest under your touch rises and falls, the beat of his heart fast. 

The urge to fight or tease him disappears; you just want to be in his presence, in his touch, feeling the warmth of him. As if it could solve all your problems.  

“Shut up,” you breathe out, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him. 

Drew immediately kisses you back; never been more glad to be ordered to shut up. His hands move down your body, until they come in contact with the strings at the back of your corset. 

You feel him struggling with undoing it; probably distracted by your lips on his. 

Gosh, was it so hard to undo a couple of strings?

You force him onto the bed, and he immediately readjusts himself to a nice position. You quickly put your hands behind you and untie the strings, while Drew undos his own tie, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Was that so hard?” You tease him, letting the corset fall off you. Drew’s mouth is slightly opened as his eyes drift lower down to your naked chest; his fixated gaze giving you a confidence boost.

“Mmhm,” he lazily replies; hands pull you into his lap by the waist. His lips attach them to yours again, and your hands work on unbuttoning his shirt. He kisses down your neck, laying love bites on it. 

“Shit…” you moan. Drew’s lips were skilled, and they knew where you liked it. 

His hands knead your breasts, just as you got his last button undone. Your hands roam around his chest, abs, then coming back up to run through his scalp. Huh. It’s gonna take some time to get used to no hair to tug on. 

His lips move down to your chest, and he starts to suck on your nipples. He fully makes out with them; his tongue sloppily tugging and devouring them in. It sends pleasure down to your core; and you start to rub against him, feeling the material of his pants harden. 

“Drew…” you voice out, hands feeling his scalp. It feels, weird and comfortable. 

He pulls away, his chest heavy as he looks up at you with hungry eyes. “Yeah?”

“Lay back,” you order, wiping the saliva that drips down the side of his lips. 

Drew gulps, before nodding. His hands remove themselves from you, hurriedly discards his shirt, and he scoots himself further down the bed. You get the clear look of his boner through his pants; damn. 

Your hands go to undo your duty belt; when they come in contact with metal chains. 

Huh? You look down and see, that it was the handcuffs you got for Judy Hopps’ character. 

The dirtiest idea pops up in your mind, and you look back up at Drew with a smile. His eyes are squinted at you, eyebrows furrowed. The two of you share a look; and then he shakes his head in disapproval. “No. I’m not getting handcuffed.”

This was never tried over the course of your relationship with him, and now that the opportunity presented itself, you had to try. You pout, taking the metal chains in your hands. You dip onto the bed, crawling between his spread legs. “Please, baby. It’ll be fun,” you flirtatiously say, your hand crawling up his thigh. “I’ll make it feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” he murmurs, his arms tucked behind his head. 

“Pretty please then?” Your hand comes in contact with his boner, and you grip it through his pants. 

He moans under your touch, his mind fighting the battle to not be seduced by you. 

You knew how much Drew liked to touch you, always having his arm around you either lovingly and protectively. He took pride in being the person that gets to touch you whenever he wants and wherever. So of course, he wouldn’t be so happy to be handcuffed. 

You swing the handcuffs, giving him a soft smile. 

After a few seconds, he moans again, this time out of frustration, “fine. Do it.”

You smile ear-to-ear, happy that he agreed. You straddle his waist, as he offers his hands to you. You fasten one around his wrist, the material digging slightly into his skin. “Does it hurt?” You murmur, even though you were already moving onto his other hand. 

“I’m good,” he assures you, and when you glance down, you see that your breasts are directly in front of his face, a distraction provided. You shake your head, a soft smile on your lips as you bring both handcuffed wrists and hook it on the headboard. 

You ignore the kisses he trails on your chest; and tug on his hands to make sure it stays there. “Hey, stop it,” you warn him, before getting off. 

By instinct, he tugs his wrists wanting to keep you atop of him, but the handcuffs stop him. “Ride me, c’mon,” he whines, getting impatient with the restraints of his hands. Look, you haven’t even started and he’s already whining. 

Drew looks very hot in this angle; usually in charge, to be in a position where he physically couldn’t do anything. 

You giggle, undoing the duty belt and shimmying your skirt off. You lean forward between his legs, looking up at him with intrigued eyes. “Have some patience, baby,” the nickname drives him crazy, throwing his head back in frustration. 

His reaction makes you grin. You can see the struggle on his face—wanting to be annoyed but unable to resist the pull of your playful teasing. It’s the kind of tension that makes your heart race, as your hands go and undo his belt. 

The belt comes off, next was the zipper, then his pants. You tug it down to his knees, his dick piercing through his boxers. It’s begging to be sucked by you. 

You pull it down, his dick practically springing out. “Fuck,” you moan, leaning down close to it. 

Drew thrusts his hips, making the tip hit your nose. You look up at him, furrowing your eyebrows. You didn’t like how impatient he is right now, “stay still.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, biting down on his bottom lip. “You look pretty from this angle, though.”

You give him a smug smile, before opening your mouth and taking his tip in. He immediately groans at that, as your mouth moves lower. 

The tug of the handcuffs is heard, as well as Drew saying, “wanna touch you.”

You smirk against his dick, one hand gripping on his thigh, another one going up to his balls. You massage one side; while your mouth skillfully takes Drew in. 

But Drew decides to take a step further, and thrusts his hip upward. That makes you gag; his tip hitting almost the back of your mouth. You immediately pull your mouth out, “stay still,” you say, more firmly this time. “Or I’ll leave, and you’ll stay here handcuffed.”

Another tug of his handcuffs, “didn’t mean to.”

“Be a good boy and stay still, okay?” The lust, tipsiness, combined with Drew’s vulnerable situation serves as a huge boost to your confidence. 

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, relaxing his entire body now. You’re in charge now; the handcuffs remind him of that. 

You give him a glare as a warning; you don’t miss the small curl at the corner of his lips. You take him in again, your hand squeezing his balls gently. You start to bop your head up and down, tongue wrapping and sucking his dick. 

“Shit,” you hear him groan, “just like that, babe.”

His soft moans ensure you that you’re doing a great job, as well as the occasional tugs of the handcuffs, his hands dying to touch you. Your head bops faster with each passing second, the pleasure of sucking his cock pooling in your undies too. 

It’s when you feel his cock twitch inside your mouth, you pull away. 

“Babe, what?” He manages to breathe out, he couldn’t believe that you just denied him of an orgasm. 

That nickname sends a bigger impact to your core than it should’ve. You sit up and lean forward, planting a sloppy kiss against his lips. He kisses back immediately, eager and needy. You pull away, “didn’t know you were this whiny.”

He forms a small frown, which makes you giggle, “I’ll let you cum, stop whining,” you kiss along his neck, down his chest, abs, and stopping right before his dick. “You got a condom?”

“You think I planned this?’ He tugs on his handcuffs. Right. He definitely wasn’t planning on fucking his ex-girlfriend. 

You get off the bed, rummaging the nightstands, hoping for condoms to be here. Nope. “Fuck,” you frustratedly groan, pushing your hair to one side. “Now what?” 

That question lingers in the air, the two of you staring at each other. No condom, and two horny adults. There was only one solution. No, two solutions. But who in their right mind would suggest that one-

“Raw,” Drew speaks up. 

“Raw?” You’ve never gone raw before; the risks of it overpowering the pleasure of it. You glance that Drew, seeing how calm he was to suggest that. Then at his dick, which was still erected. 

“Unless you want to go back downstairs.”

Oh god. You didn’t want to; you wanted to have sex with Drew. But you had to be honest; the idea of raw sex was terrifying. 

“Y/n?” His blue eyes meet yours, “sit down first.”

You sit back down beside him, placing your hand on his lower stomach. “Raw?” You’re more asking yourself, yet you look at Drew’s face. 

Drew. Going raw with Drew. Drew. Not some random guy. The Drew that you’ve found yourself get really into. Okay. Maybe if you two didn’t break up a month ago, you would’ve gotten to that point with him anyways, right? 

“You okay?” He asks gently. 

You give him a soft smile, getting yourself between his legs yet again. “Can’t be any different than a condom, right?”

He smirks at your agreement of this, “hope so.”

You lean forward and give him a quick peck on the lips. “Stretch yourself out first,” he reminds, looking down towards your core. You take your underwear off, sitting back and spreading your legs. It gives Drew the clear view of your pussy; and he groans at that. “Need help?”

He tugs on his handcuffs. Pretty sure it’ll bruise his wrists if he continues to move against them. The sly smile on his lips tell you everything; “I got it,” you assure him. 

You line two fingers against yourself; and then put it in. “Shit,” you groan at how wet you are already; thrusting your fingers in slowly.

You can’t help but compare your own fingering to Drew’s; finding his more satisfying to your core. Nevertheless, you stretch yourself out just like Drew says, picking the pace after a few seconds. “Fuck,” you hear him groan; and after a couple of sloppy thrusts, you pull out, finding yourself stretched. 

“Good?” He asks, watching as you straddle yourself on his waist again. 

“Perfect,” you practically purr, leaning forward and kissing him. You feel his smile against your lips; him kissing you back tenderly. 

You pull away and look down; aligning yourself with his dick. Shit. 

You sink down, feeling his cock enter you slowly. You moan loudly at the feeling; no barriers between the two anymore. When you sit down fully, you’re sure his tip hits the back of your core. 

Drew throws his head back in pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Feels real good,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering to stay open. 

You giggle gently at his reaction; and you raise your hips, ready to start moving. You move up, then slide back down on him. “Shit,” you curse, the sensation unreal. 

Raising your hips again, you start riding him, at an unusual slow pace. Your nails dig into his shoulders, transferring the pain there. “Wanna touch you,” he voices out, tugging on the handcuffs. 

“You touch me all the time,” you hum, continuing to slam yourself up and down him. He groans at that, a knowing smile on his lips. 

“Touch yourself for me, then,” he thrusts his hip upwards, causing you to moan at the friction. 

You do as told; bringing your hands up to your breasts and squeezing them while bouncing. You’ve never felt this much pleasure; the feeling of Drew watching you while you ride him, your hands all over while you imagine it being him. 

The sound of skin slapping, heavy moans, and the tugs of Drew’s cuffs fill the room, as well as the rising temperature in here. This sex experience reminds you just how much you and Drew are compatible for each other; easily kinky and fond together. 

You feel the familiar hotness fill up your core, your movements getting more sloppy. “Close?” He asks, sounding breathless. 

“Yes,” you moan, your hands back around his shoulders. 

Drew leans himself upwards with his upper body, and he gives you a messy kiss. His kiss sends you over the ledge; and you feel the knot coming undone. He pulls away with a smug smile, “came all over my cock.”

“Shut up,” you smile, pulling him back and kissing him again. You liked kissing him more than you should. 

“Hey, can you undo these for me?” He tugs on the handcuffs for the nth time tonight. 

“Should I?” You cock your head playfully to the side. He playfully thrusts upwards towards your core, and you groan at that. “Fuck, Drew.”

“C’mon, undo me,” he begs, his blue eyes staring teasingly into yours. 

Gosh, this man. It’s unfair how attractive he is, from his looks to his actions. Everything, just touches your heart. You pull out of him, the stickiness around your legs don’t feel as gross as they should. But you do miss the warmth of him, feeling bit empty. 

You search around for your duty belt; grabbing it off the floor. It had three little compartments around it, and you rummage around each one. The cheap material makes it hard to open each. 

“Babe, you’re taking forever,” you hear him behind you. 

You ignore his comment; working your way to the last one. Surely the key had to be in the last one, right?

Is it; and you throw the belt back down, turning back to him. “Were you always this impatient?” You ask, unlocking both of his wrists. 

The handcuffs shoot down as soon as you’re done; and he flips you under him in one fast motion. You let out a shriek, not expecting to be pinned in mere seconds. He looks down at you with a small smirk, “my turn.”

“What?” You let out a nervous giggle, his hold on your wrists tightening. 

You let out a loud gasp when he shrinks his length down into your core; pushing it fully in at once. Shit, shit, shit. His lips attach themselves to your neck, leaving love bites, eventually moving down lower. “Drew,” you manage to breathe out despite feeling the weight of him down on you. 

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your skin, one hand intertwining with yours. 

“…feels good,” you admit, even though it was unexpected to be pinned down. Having his cock fully in you; felt like heaven. Now, he’s gonna give you your second orgasm of the night; halloween? Must be Christmas. 

“I’know,” he kisses your jaw, his other hand now kneading your breasts. “Besides, haven’t cummed yet.”

Oh. You were consumed with chasing your own orgasm, you didn’t realize that Drew hasn’t had his yet. 

Drew starts to push his body into yours, picking up the pace after each thrust. He hits your exact g-spots, knowing your body all too well. You moan loudly in his ear, mixed in with his. Just like that, your second orgasm slowly forms.

“Shit,” he curses, his hands locking tightly with yours. 

Okay, raw sex definitely felt better than condom ones. Or was it because it’s Drew? Either way, you want to do this more, honestly. Maybe the handcuffs too. 

“Close, Drew,” you breathe out between thrusts. 

“Same, babe,” he kisses your cheek.

The knot comes undone for the second time tonight, and you cum over his dick. At the same time, you feel it twitch inside you; his turn. 

Drew gets ready to pull out, but you hurriedly wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Cum inside me,” you urge him, wanting to feel yourself filled with his orgasm. 

Drew gives you a lazy smile, lips leaning towards yours. And this kiss, was more endearing, his tongue moving in a soft tempo. He cums, and you feel the warmth of him mixing with yours. 

You smile back against his lips; you’ve never had such mind-blowing sex. 

He eventually pulls out of you, reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. You let him clean you up, leaning against the headboard; the two of you staying silent to recover from what just happened. 

And slowly, the realization of what happened, fogs up the both of your minds. Lust is gone, now only left with clarification. Clarification of what’ll be next, between the two of you.

“Drew?” You speak up, as he finishes and cleans himself up quickly, throwing it in the trash after. 

He sits by your legs, his blue eyes looking up and meeting yours. “I miss you.” That confession catches you off guard. You gulp, looking down at your lap. “I’m sorry,” he adds, voice cracking. 

Your heart aches at that; and you feel him move to the spot besides you. He pulls the covers up, covering the both of you. “I’m sorry,” he repeats once again, “I’m, I’m a stupid fuck.”

“You are,” you agree, still looking down and playing with your fingers. 

“I just…we dated for a year. And, I just got scared?” The last part was almost as if he also didn’t believe himself for feeling that way. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know, just…something I feel. But I realized, not being with you was worse,” his hands wrap around yours, and you look up at him. His blue eyes are mixed with regret, sincerity, and…love. Well, at least you interpret it that way. 

“Took a month away from me to realize that?”

“Yes. I think that just shows how idiotic I am. Trust me, the past month was horrible.”

You giggle, “you can’t just dump me whenever you feel like it.”

“First and last time,” he promises.

“What?” You look at him questionably. 

“If you’ll take me back.”

Do you want to take Drew back? Your mind was screaming no, but your heart was telling you to spend forever with him. He really hurt you, and he really is an idiot. But he’s your idiot. And one year of dating has told you that he does make stupid decisions, coming to regret them later. 

Fuck it. You always listened to your heart anyways. “Fine, if you insist,” you playfully say, your hands intertwining with his again. You missed holding onto these hands. Then, your eyes drop to his wrists, seeing the red spots around them. “Drew, those handcuffs-“

Drew’s other hand cups your face, and he sends an attack of his kisses to your cheek. You laugh loudly at that, which just drives him to give you more. “Hey-“ he kisses your lips, the two of you leaning down until your backs hit the mattress. 

“I…”

“Hmm?” You stare into his eyes. He stares at you all smitten, his lips slightly open in awe. 

“I…love you,” he confesses. 

Oh. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fight to get out, and you let them. You love Drew. Yeah, you love Drew. After everything you’ve been through with him, you deserved to be loved, to be loved by him.  “I love you more,” you emphasize on the last word. 

“Fuck,” he kisses you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer into his arms. “Driving me insane. Insane, y’know that?”

“I’know,” you giggle, the two of you staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. You’ve never felt happier. And when your hands run through his scalp; you’re reminded of his buzzcut. “Hey, why did you shave your hair?”

“It got annoying,” he rubs circles around your waist, “and, well, I missed you.”

“so you shaved your hair?” 

“…yeah,” suddenly he gets shy, burying his face into your neck. You smile at that, feeling like he’s a little baby. 

After a few seconds, he murmurs against your neck. “Hey, y’know what you should dress up as next year?”

“Next year already?” You look down at him, him looking back up at you. 

“Yeah,” he pulls away, “Lola bunny.”

Lola bunny? Wasn’t that the cartoon character? From Loony tunes? You furrow your eyebrows at Drew, “why?”

He gives you a grin, “kinda…my childhood crush.”

“Really?” This is the first time he’s telling you this; and you can’t help but grow amused at that. Lola bunny? Maybe that can explain why he’s so weird sometimes. Cute weird. “Will you be my Bugs then?”

“Of course,” he immediately says, “not Paul, that’s for sure.”

Paul. You’re suddenly reminded of that gross man you asked to come with you; and also of Drew’s jealously. Hey, he’s jealous! That thought is bought up in your mind once again, thanks to Drew himself. What girlfriend would you be if you didn’t tease him about it? “Oh, you were so jealous.”

“Jealous? No,” he denies, even with the small smirk on his lips. 

“So it’s okay if I see Paul-“

“We’re together, now. Like, literally a few seconds ago,” he cuts you off. “Screw Paul. Or any other guy.”

“That’s jealousy,” you smile, pointing at his face. 

He bites on your finger, causing you to shriek and put your finger down. “Just love you a lot.” 

Your heart warms at that; but it doesn’t change your mind about how jealous he was. “Drew, you don’t need to be jealous. I’m yours.”

He chuckles, “I’m not jealous!”

Okay. He might never admit it. His pride, and his overall aura, jealousy just won’t be something he wants to bow down to. 

“Of course,” you rest your chin on his forehead. “Of course.”

“I wasn’t jealous!” He continues to hum. 

“Shhh,” you coo at him, rubbing the skin around his shoulders, which feel firm yet soft. Your eyes are falling heavy, and in Drew’s arms, you knew you could get some comfortable sleep. The first time; for the past month. 

You close your eyes, ready to drift to sleep, when Drew says, “I think we went over 7 minutes.”

“Huh?” You lazily reply, your brain ready to turn off. 

“Nothing.”

That was the end of the conversation; and you drifted off to sleep, knowing that Drew was beside you. The familiar scent of him dozes you off, and you feel safe knowing he’s going to be taking care of you. 

Lola bunny. Maybe you should dress up like her next year, fulfill Drew’s nasty fantasies. Huh. Maybe. 

-------------------------------

word count: 6.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: petition for drew to be patrick bateman 🙋‍♀️

happy halloween! what are you dressing up as??? hope you enjoyed this oneshot, kinky and got really sweet in the end. pls ignore any mistakes; i hate proofreading. anyways, happy halloween! ik im already looking forward to christmas ;)

[slimeysodaa]

stay with me on this, STAY WITH ME

i remembered I made a swap au of FOP back in 2019 and wanted to revamp it mainly because I still think the idea is cute, its silly so heres that. Basically; Vicky is Timmy, Crocker is Cosmo and Norm is Wanda, although they are still their own characters.

Crocker and Norm flip flop betweening being able to tolerate the other to actively trying to fight each other. They give off the vibes of bitter exes around the other, but with Vicky, they're very attentive and care about her more and more as the series goes on.

Vicky is ten years old, a very firey gal with some anger issues, but she does work on those as the show would go on. She doesn't want to be lonely, she wants to make friends but its very hard for her to do because she gets scared that she'll frighten them away.

but yeah heres that, look at them all. i have a whole story for cosmo and wanda in this au as well but thats for later. i especially love how i draw crocker, he's just a silly old guy, love that for him

[unicornpopcorn14]

Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt during the Lovecraft fight has always been so interesting to me...

Because it's the kind of worry you'd never expect from a character as gruff as Chuuya, who had displayed nothing but hostility towards Dazai so far. Usually, characters that are labelled as "angry" or "anger issues" (which Chuuya is much more complex than that but you get my point) act more as a tsundere type of way when the one they "don't care about" gets hurt. And show their care in very, very subtle ways (ex. their eyes widen, their mouth parts and closes again, etc) before putting up their front once more.

Chuuya, however, is open, and vocal about it. His worry is clear not only to us, but to Dazai himself, the one he shouldn't be displaying the concern to (as per the cliche). Shouldn't it be some sort of secret that Chuuya does care? Isn't that what skk's dynamic has been shaping up to be until now?

I'm telling you- the way my mind blanked when Chuuya just casually.... showed concern not once, but twice, was a sight to see.

Besides, the context makes it much more confusing, because Dazai isn't some rookie, and Chuuya knows that more than anybody. He was the youngest executive in Port Mafia's history, of course he can handle a hit or two. Of course he'd seen him handle a hit or two, sometimes without batting an eye.

Heck, Chuuya himself was hurling Dazai like a ragdoll in their reunion, which was their last meeting. And you could argue that he was going easy on him, but Dazai has mostly withstood the same damage (as far as I could see), and Chuuya was as bitter as ever.

So that kind of contradicts both what we knew of Chuuya so far, and how their dynamic was shaped to be. I mean, that just makes Chuuya a hypocrite, yeah? What makes him care now, all of a sudden? What makes him care at all?

Well, to me, this backasswards reaction implies one (or more) of the following:

- Dazai rarely got physically hurt during their partnership and thus this is an unexpected thing for him to see (during a mission).

- The four years of separation made Chuuya unsure of how much Dazai can withstand physically now. Also the fact that he isn't in the mafia anymore, aka fighting enemy organizations on the weekly, would naturally make Dazai lose his touch in a way, what prompts Chuuya's reaction.

- Dazai getting taken off guard took him off guard which led to panic. Especially since the situation was (momentarily) out of their depth. Seriously wtf even was Lovecraft?

- During the dungeon scene Dazai was an enemy, while in the Lovecraft fight he was as an ally. The difference might be significant to Chuuya.

- This has always been Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt regardless of the situation.

- "Only I can hurt him like that" ahh logic

- Asagiri was still experimenting with their dynamic and thus there are some inconsistencies.

This scenario didn't play out again (after their reunion) for me to exactly determine which one is more plausible, but it is 100% canon for Chuuya to shamelessly show his concern and run to Dazai to check on him before properly dealing with their opponent, which I find to be such an appealing layer to their dynamic, and a good spin on the type of character he gets stereotyped as.

Bonus: Dazai also becomes a softy when Chuuya's hurt, especially post corruption. Dead Apple alone displays that multiple times.

All in all, Skk are doing a terrible job at maintaining their 'hostile' and 'antagonistic' relationship post their reunion. Freaks.

[pucksandpower]

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘SAILOR SONG,

-THEPENGUIN!SOFIA FALCONE X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You run into Sofia at Berto’s funeral. You’re the only one who can calm her down.

⋆ tags/warnings. sofia falcone x female reader. ANGST AND COMFORT!! Might make this a series if anyone likes it enough <3 she’s my literal BABY im so in love with her it makes me want to kms! she deserves SO much better i just wanna give her a hug (and a kiss). slight homophobia mentions, past relationships (but unclear), THE HANGMAN!!!!! Based on 1x2, bertos funeral ! she is my girlfailure wife and i need her

♫ “Begging, baby, would you please? / Do the things you said you'd do to me. / And when we're getting dirty, I forget all that is wrong / I sleep so I can see you 'cause I hate to wait so long.” Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

High tides. That’s what Gotham is, after the haunted return of the Batman. At least, that’s all you see around you now. Theres blood in the water, and the sharks have all come to hunt.

You think it’s all bullshit. The bat, the Riddler, this fucking funeral. You hardly knew the man, and you know it’s a waste of time. Everyone dressed in black here is only cutting their losses. It’s all out of fear. Berto was unabashedly himself. And that was weak. He tried too hard to be his father.

You scan the funeral, which might as well be a party for some of these fuckers, and hold your breath. Okay, maybe you’re more upset than you’d like to admit. Nihilism appeases the soul where optimism does not. You’d only had very few conversations with him, but he was…nice, to some extent.

It’s a day of mourning. And that’s what you do. Memories come to you in unsafe and ungrateful waves, alerting you of every interaction you’d ever had with the man of the night.

“Hey, so,” He scratched the side of his head with his index finger. “Wha- What’s up with you and my sister?” A bitter smile on his face, nose scrunched in faux curiosity. You’d known better. You grew up your entire life in Gotham, and you had known a thinly veiled threat when you’d heard it.

“Sofia?” You’d asked, lighting a cigarette. The sunset flooded through Italy’s streets. It wasn’t your first summer here. You took a long drag of smoke, thinking of how to phrase your answer. The Falcones weren’t stupid, none of them were, not really. “Nothing.” You settled on, dabbling it out in the ash tray. “Why?”

You’d expected some bullshit to fly from his mouth. The family…That you were an outsider. That whatever the two of you had going on was distasteful. A woman and a woman. Not a good look in the papers. Weak willed woman frolicking together in Gotham’s underground. You expected him to insult you, and her. What would their father think?

But Alberto didn’t say anything like that.

“If you hurt her,” He began, and you felt yourself visibly recoil. “I’ll have to, you know,” He motioned with his hands, forming a gun with his forefinger against his temple, and a pew sound. “Pop your top.”

Returning to yourself, you find it in yourself to be greatful. For Alberto, not ratting the two of you out. Whatever you two had…was more than the both of you ever managed to let on. Small touches here and there, kisses when you played house. Laughing underneath streetlamps, painting her nails. And then she got locked up in Arkham. Your best…friend.

And now she’s finally released. Idiots with poster boards outside begging for her return to the loony bin. She’s somewhere in this house, on the same floor as you.

You mindlessly sip on your glass. Alchohol is your real friend tonight. The undergrounds in shambles, the entire city is. What’s stopping you from leaving? You don’t know. Not until you see her.

She trails in the room, and the first thing you hear are overwhelming whispers. You don’t pay attention to them, how could you? Her hair tied up messily, sticky bangs and beads of sweat on her forehead. Her makeup is neat, but just barely smudged.

She’s bug eyed as she enters, chest heaving in…anger? fear? She pays much more attention to the whispers than you do, you realize.

“She’s crazy,” You hear from behind you. Faces hide behind there glasses and hands, leaning down and gossiping amongst themselves. It makes you sick. She makes you sick. Even more so, as she seems to lose herself. It starts with a small bite, digging at the finger food, before she picks up heaps of it in her palms. Over and over and over again…

“That’s enough,” You whisper, sternly, grabbing her forearm. Her mouth almost drops open with the food, eyes widening even more. She stops chewing, and for a moment, it seems everything and everyone is finally scilenced.

She doesn’t say a word in her shock, her arm falling down. She lets you guide her out the room, and the both of you ignore the comments from passerbys.

When you finally reach an empty room, you close the door. Her blood runs cold, and she’s perpelled to the edge of the room, like a cornered and vulnerable prey animal.

“What are you doing here?” Sofia drawls, clearing her throat. Her cheeks are tinged pink from embarassment, and her nose twitches in frustration.

“I knew him too.”

“No, you didn’t.” She remarks, firm in her stance. Her jaw is clenched tight, and you sigh. You make your way over to a couch, sitting down lazily. It doesn’t feel how it used to.

“Yeah, I didn’t. But I got an invitation.”

She ignores you. Straight to the point.

“You’ve heard. What they are saying about me, out there.”

“Hard not too.”

She scoffs, letting out a hmph noise. She turns away from you, blinking.

“Well. Do you believe it?” She tests, arms crossed. You feel your eyebrows scrunch, and you give her a once over. You want to scream at her, that she isn’t crazy. That whatever she’s done isn’t her fault, not completely. But you can’t claw the words out- not after not seeing her in years.

“You do, don’t you?” She continues. She stops pacing the room to take a seat parallel to you. You bite your tongue.

A beat of silence, and something in her dark eyes takes it as your final answer. Theres something deeper, darker swirling in them you can’t quite place. She’s not the same girl you knew as a child.

“No,” You whisper, finally, and watch her perk up. “You’re not crazy.”

She stays silent as she looks at you disbelievingly. Like you’re saying it simply to appease her. You find it in yourself to let the tension melt away, leaning back into the cushions.

“You don’t need help.” You affirm, and her expression is unreadable. “You aren’t broken. Or whatever those fuckhead doctors told you in Arkham. You’re just…” You trail off, needing to word this right. “You’re just your fathers daughter.”

You expect her to ask ‘what thats supposed to mean?’ but she doesn’t. No…she looks too vulnerable in this light to fight back against you. Again, silence sounds, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

It’s only when she speaks, voice trembling, do you see her resolve break.

“Why didn’t you visit me?” It’s quiet, almost a whimper, and her voice breaks. “In Arkham?”

There it is. The question you’d been dreading, mostly because you didn’t know the answer yourself.

Her eyebrows are pulled together, nails clenched into her own skin. You go to tear them from her palms, opening them up to find the marks. She doesn’t say a word. She makes no move to push you away. She’s too tired. She’s greiving, her father, her mother, her brother, her sanity.

You lean down, and press a gentle kiss to her nails. A strangled sound is ripped from her at the action, and you notice how her eyes turn glossy. You decide to ignore the question for now, watching tears finally slip from her eyes. She’d been holding them in for what felt like forever. But not with you, she finds, she could never hide anything from you.

You pull her in, embracing her for all its worth. She immeadiatley falls into you, open mouthed sobs against your shoulder. You hug her tight, and it feels blissful. After so long of only seeing her on TV reports and pictures, touching her, feeling her, is heavenly. Just like it used to be.

She still smells the same. Her makeup runs as she cries into your shoulder, and you gently hush her. You pet her head and hair, cradling her like she’s fragile glass about to break. She’s yours. You’re hers. You always have been.

Rocking her back in forth, you place a kiss on her forehead. When she leans into you, you place more. Soft little pecks across her skin, to her head, wrist. You kiss all her tears away as they fall. Sweet and salty, wetting your lips. You feel her try to catch her breath.

She pulls away from you, hair messy. Her lips are parted, and her pupils blown, and theres a silent promise in the air between the two of you. I’m with you. Im on your side. I am the woman who wants you to win.

Her hand trails to your cheek, and she looks at you worshipfully. Her eyes flit to your lips, as if asking, begging for just one.

You nod. You could never deny her anything. She leans in, tentiavley, before connecting your lips. Memories flash through your head. She tastes the same, acacia honey and cigarette smoke. Besides yourself, you deepen the kiss, and she responds tenfold.

Her hands thread through your hair with a gentle tug, as if there is a feral need buried underneath her skin, to possess you. Remind herself you are here, and you are hers, not an illusion. Not a nightmare. She would kill for you.

You have to almost fight her to part for air, pulling away with heavy breaths. She doesn’t let you get far, resting her forehead against yours.

For better or for worse, she has stuck her claws in you. You realize she will not let you go. Not tonight. Not tommorrow. Not ever.

Breath intermingling, her body heat radiating against yours, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You stay like that, unanswered questions still plaguing the silence. You’ll answer them one day. For now, you choose only to lose yourselves in one another.

You regret not telling Alberto the truth before he died. She’s not nothing to you. She’s everything.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

For the jace and baela scene, reader could be a Tyrell or dornish? I saw that you liked them. I want her to be light and sweet and compassionate, but able to hold jace’s character.

When I saw this scene in the leaks, I had to re-write it...and add the cuteness the show did not

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Jacaerys had not been present when Rhaenyra's great plan turned into a carnage. His hatred for the dragonseeds was so strong you fear he would have taken a small pleasure watching them burn. 

A shiver ran down your back at the images. 

You thought it was cruel of the Queen to block the doors when Vermithor blazed fire on the dragonseeds who tried to get inside. But you understood Rhaenyra’s decision. There were other dragons on the island. Wild ones. These people all had a drop of Valyrian blood in them. They could claim one of the wild dragons...and turn on her — as Jacaerys feared. 

By eliminating them, it lessened the chances of someone claiming a wild dragon and using it against her.

After a bearded man named Hugh finally claimed Vermithor, you went looking for your betrothed. He was not outside with Vermax, nor in his chambers. 

Noticing the frown on your brows and your pacing in the corridors, a guard informed you that he saw the prince heading to the library hours ago. You thanked him, and found Jacaerys sitting at a table with a hoard of books around him. He must have come here when he saw the dragonseeds arriving on Dragonstone. 

From your angle, you could see a pout on his lips as he rested his head on his fist. His back was to you, so he didn’t see you come in. 

‘’It does not befit a prince to pout.’’ Your tone was teasing and light, contrasting to his sulking.

‘’I’m not pouting,’’ Jacaerys denied, not moving. 

You took the stack of books from the chair next to his and set it on the table so you could sit on the chair. ‘’What would you call it, then?’’ You raised a brow and poked his pushed out lips.

It usually put his pouting to an end, but his face stayed icy. ‘’I’m reading,’’ he said, turning the page of the book before him. 

‘’While your mother waits?’’ 

He ignored your question, still upset and bitter about the bastard dragonseeds.

A part of you understood Rhaenyra's desire for wanting riders for the two unclaimed dragons. She never thought it would be possible, but Adam of Hull proved to her that the Valyrian blood in bastards was strong enough to claim Seasmoke. Having more dragons on her side will benefit her against the Greens and Vhagar.

But another was aching for Jacaerys. He was made fun of all his childhood for his non-Valyrian features, and these bastards were praised for succeeding in claiming a dragon. 

‘’You’re angry,’’ you stated, rubbing his back in an attempt to sooth him. 

You’ve been comforting him a lot lately, but nothing you knew seemed to work today. 

Jacaerys finally turned to look at you, his eyes hard from his anger. ‘’Aren’t you?’’ 

You released a breath. ‘’I don’t see what good it would do.’’

‘’They are insults to us. To what makes us Targaryen. If any common lout can ride a dragon, then—’’ 

‘’That does not make you common!’’ 

In the year and half you had known Jacaerys, it was striking to you that he had nothing of a common-born. He was raised as royalty, and educated like a prince — an heir. He was well-behaved, silver tongued, and the son of Queen Rhaenyra. He carried her royal blood. 

He glanced at you again, then turned away to stare at the table. ‘’You know what I am…’’ 

‘’I don’t care,’’ you said truly. 

In Dorne, bastards were not looked down upon the way they are in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. But they did not inherit from their parents the same as their legitimate children. They were acknowledged, cared after, but never allowed to claim a crown or title that had not been given to them. 

‘’You are the crown prince,’’ you continued, ‘’the son of the rightful Queen, and here you are sulking because you believe that if not for the dragon, or the trappings of your station, that you are nothing.’’ You took Jacaerys’ hand in yours, chuckling lightly. ‘’Do you believe you are the first noble heir who was not sired by his noble father? Such is the way of the world, Jace, and in resenting it, you only diminish yourself.’’

Jacaerys leaned his head back on the chair, still pouting. ‘’Easy enough to say. I’ve heard the whispers the whole of my life.’’ You could hear the deep rooted trauma and scars in his voice. 

‘’Then prove to them that you are worthy. Get up and take your place by your mother’s side. You and she had your differences lately, but she’ll never replace you by one of them. No one can replace a mother's first son.’’ 

He was silent for a few moments, staring at the ceiling of the dark library, and took in your words. No one can replace a mother's first son. She had him when she herself was a child. There was no one she loved more than him. 

Jacaerys turned to face you, his eyes softening. Your reassurances made him see reason. He was still upset, but he found comfort in your words. 

He gripped your hand, and pulled you close. Closeness was his way of finding comfort. When you were settled upon his lap, his hands went to your hips, holding you against him. 

Even then, you noticed he was still pouting. You thought the gesture was utterly cute, but you wouldn’t tell him that. 

You gently tilted his head to look at you and leaned down to kiss him. ‘’No more pouting.’’

—

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[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris when he gets word that shy!readers friends have dragged her to a party at a frat house he does not fuck with

dude would still find a way to make a comment about how he literally doesn’t care (him rushing over there, pissed off at the inconvenience, severely contradicts that)

- 🫧

"what is your girl doin' at some other frat party?"

chris barely registers the question over the thumping bass of the rap track pulsing through the speakers and he lifts his head, momentarily distracted from counting crumpled dollar bills he'd made selling drugs all night.

"the fuck are you talkin' about?" chris snaps, his brows knitting together in irritation as nate shoves his phone into chris' line of sight, squinting at the bright screen as it presents an instagram post from your friend with a series of pictures at another frat house. "nah.. nah, s'not her. she's at home. studyin' for some stupid—"

"bro, it's her." nate insists, his voice cutting through chris' denial as he jabs at the screen, a tag of your username popping up on a photo of you in a short, black dress, one that's never seen you wear before.

chris refuses to believe it's you — of course he does.

why the fuck would you be at another frat house when you've always said you don't like parties? he clings to denial like a lifeline, but as nate scrolls to another picture, your face lights up the screen, a small smile gracing your lips beside your friends. it twists something dark and primal in his gut, igniting an anger he can't shake.

a humourless laugh escapes him, bitter and sharp, as he presses his tongue to his cheek and shakes his head in disbelief. he shoves the crumpled dollar bills into his pocket, the sound of his tongue clicking against his teeth echoing his frustration.

"yeah i uh, i don't give a fuck. nah, don't care." he mutters under his breath, but the words feel hollow as he stands up from the couch, his heart pounding in his chest. he sniffs defiantly, grabbing his phone from the armrest with a sense of urgency.

nate raises his brow, "then where are you—"

"shut the fuck up."

he's strides away from his fraternity house, jaw tensed and hands buried deep in his pockets, each step driven by a determination that pulses through him. the closer get gets, the louder the music and chaos of the party become, a mix that only fuels his irritation and subtle worry.

he pushes his way inside, shoving past people who block his path, eyes scanning the room frantically in search of you. familiar faces from his own parties greet — the guys giving casual handshakes and dap-ups, while a few girls giggle and tug at his arm.

he uses their attention to his advantage, pulling them in close, leaning down to whisper your friend's name in their ears, knowing she's the more well-known one out of you both.

they eagerly point him in the right direction, and he shoved them away without a second thought, their surprised gasps fading behind him as he navigates deeper into the crowd of bodies.

as he approaches the kitchen, he spots you and your friend filling up your cups, a smile present on your lips. without hesitation, chris saunters over, invading your personal space so suddenly that it makes you flinch back, nearly spilling your drink.

his hand grips your chin, tilting your head up so he can scrutinise your face, searching for any signs of drugs coursing through your veins.

you blink at him in surprise, confused etched across your features. "oh, what are you—"

"did y'take anythin'?" he cuts you off, voice low and urgent. "someone give you anythin', huh? what have you had? tell me, kid, i swear to god—"

"no, i didn't take anything," you frown softly, your cheeks squished together by his grip. chris exhales deeply through his nose before he finally pushes your head away, causing you to whine softly. "ouch—"

"the fuck do you think you're doin'?" you assume he's talking to you, but your surprise deepens when he turns to face your friend, who looks livid at his sudden appearance. "why're you bringin' her here, huh? are you fuckin' stupid?"

"i'm not going back to your stupid frat house again," your friend hisses, glaring back at him. "your asshole of a frat brother—"

"yeah, i don't give a fuck about what happened between you 'n my frat brothers, alright? 'cos that shit got nothin' to do with me. at all. she—" chris points back at you and you blink innocently, caught in the crossfire. "she got somethin' to do with me, yeah? you don't bring her here, you understand that?"

your friend opens her mouth to argue back, but chris is already pushing you out of the room, his hand pressing firmly against your lower spine as he guides you forward. you remain quiet, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you step outside into the brisk night air, the cold nipping at the bare skin of your arms and legs.

your glance up at chris who walks beside you with a tense jaw, his eyes narrowed at the ground, sniffing angrily.

"are you mad at me, chris?" you ask him softly, a hint of worry threading through your voice.

"nah. nah, not mad at you, kid," chris mumbles, tone gruff as he sucks through his teeth, glancing over at you briefly. he exhales deeply, then moves in front of you, fingers brushing beneath the thin shoulder strap of your dress. "look at you. what're you wearin' this for? never seen this shit before in m'life — got dresses like this lyin' around on the sly or somethin'?"

"it's not mine," you reply quickly, wanting to clarify that it was borrowed from your friend. you take a breath, wanting to address what just happened. "chris—"

"y'look pretty, kid," he interrupts, the compliment tumbling out suddenly. the implication is clear: he does not want to talk about it.

"oh, thank you, but—"

"c'mon. let's go back to mine, yeah? s'borin' here and uh, y'don't need to be here — safer with me, y'know?

you hesitate for a moment, wanting to stay put and try and make him talk to you, but chris is already moving, leading you further away from the party, the tension in his shoulders telling you that he's struggling with his own feelings and emotions.

you can't help but steal glances at him before you speak up again. "chris.. i want to—"

chris stops abruptly, turning to face you, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race. "i don't wanna talk, a'ight? 'cos yeah, kid, i am mad. m'not mad at you, but m'fuckin' pissed at her for bringin' you here when you don't even fuck with parties anyway. and i — i don't want you caught up in any of that shit that goes on here, okay? jus' wanna go home with you... okay? ...please?"

© STURNIOZ

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too"? Part iii

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: Joel is trying to recover and understand his feelings for you, or It took him almost to lose you to know how important you are to him.

word count: 14k (this is what I call, the filling chapter)

warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, injuries, and mentions of death, more angst. (haha) f

a/n: Hello! Part 3 is here! Once again, I want to thank everyone who had read this story, so much love for you. I don't feel so proud about this one, this chapter is more like a filling one, the one stuck in the middle, the important things that will happen here were going to happen but not in the same way because I wrote it in a rush and after being sad because of a man. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The storm kept raging outside, with fury, while these four walls you were in were protecting you from the haunting memories on your mind.

Your heart was beating hard against your ribs; you could feel the air abandoning your lungs, and your head was spinning all over the place, trying to focus your racing thoughts on another thing but Joel.

The Joel who was standing in your living room.

The Joel who remembered your fear of storms

The Joel who had come to your house to protect you from your demons.

The Joel who was now looking at you with a glimpse of hope in his eyes, patiently waiting for you to utter a word.

“You said you would never wear that t-shirt again,” you said bitterly, your voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t quite sadness either. It was a fine line between a lingering sense of loss and longing for him.

A feeling you couldn’t let go.

Joel’s gaze flicked down to the shirt he was wearing, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I did, didn’t I?” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I said a lot of things that morning.”

You remembered that morning all too well. It was the day everything changed—the day Joel had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded in a world gone mad. But then he got his memories back, and the man who had loved you was gone, replaced by the same cold, distant Joel who had once barely tolerated your presence.

“I said a lot of things too,” you replied, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “But none of it matters now, does it?”

Joel flinched at the bitterness in your tone, his hand rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit you had come to recognize. “It matters,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find something in the depths of your gaze. “I just… I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. I remember enough to know that I don’t want to lose you.”

The air in your lungs got stuck. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that the man who had once loved you was still in there somewhere, fighting to break free. But the wounds of his departure were still too fresh, too raw.

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the howling wind. “You don’t just get to pick up where we left off, Joel. You can’t just—”

“I know,” he cut in, his voice firm but not unkind. He took a step closer, his boots scruffing against the worn floorboards. “I know it’s not that simple. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving. Not again. Not unless you tell me to.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. The walls around you felt like they were closing in, the memories of what you had lost pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t bear. You had built up defenses and kept people at arm’s length because losing them hurt too much. But here was Joel, standing before you, offering a glimmer of something you thought was lost forever.

“What do you want, Joel?” You said, your voice almost breaking.

Joel hesitated, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the right words, the ones that would make both of you go back in time to that night when you shared your “I love you” for the first time, even though you both knew it wasn't that simple. The storm outside roared on, shaking the walls, but it was the storm inside that threatened to tear you apart.

“I want…” He trailed off, running a hand through his damp hair, his brow furrowed in thought. “I want to make things right. I know I messed up; I know I hurt you—hell, I hurt myself too. But I can’t keep pretending like you don’t matter, like this—” he gestured between the two of you, “—doesn’t matter.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it harder to keep the walls up, but you couldn't just let him back in, not after everything. “You can’t just say that and expect it to fix things,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t remember, Joel. You don’t remember what we had.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t remember everything, and I don’t know if I ever will. But I remember enough to know that losing you would be the worst mistake of my life.”

You swallowed hard, the emotions welling up inside you, threatening to spill over.

“I-I- When you’re close to me, I feel like I can’t breathe.” He said emotions made his voice tremble. “All that pain I get from the migraines stops the second you’re a closer, and I didn’t know why, but my body somehow felt it. It’s like something inside my chest is aching for you.”

Joel's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his confession. The raw vulnerability in his voice was something you hadn't heard in him before, something that cut through the layers of hurt and anger you'd built up around yourself. The storm outside seemed to intensify as if echoing the turmoil within you, but all you could focus on was the man standing before you, baring his soul in a way that left you breathless.

Your heart raced as you tried to process what he was saying, the truth of his words settling deep into your bones. The walls you had put up to protect yourself, to keep him at a distance, were crumbling, and the emotions you had tried so hard to keep buried were bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t know what this is,” he continued, his voice trembling as he struggled to find the right words. “But I can’t ignore it. I’ve tried; God knows I’ve tried, but I can’t. Every time I’m near you, it’s like something inside me is telling me that I need you, that I can’t lose you again.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you bit your lip, trying to keep them at bay. You wanted to stay strong, to keep the walls up, but Joel’s words were breaking through every defense you had. His pain, his confusion, mirrored your own, and the connection between you was undeniable, even if it was tangled up in the mess of lost memories and shattered trust.

“I’m scared, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to say it out loud, to acknowledge the fear that had been gnawing at you ever since he had walked back into your life. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of losing you all over again.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m scared too,” he confessed, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your cheek. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Joel continued, his voice thick with emotion. “After today, I went to my house, and I remembered kissing you. I remember your face everywhere, and it felt like my own heart feared my feelings because I know I did things wrong with you, and I don’t want this.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling the tears in the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to love you,” he confessed.

Joel's confession hung in the air like a heavy weight, pressing down on both of you. His words were raw, laced with a vulnerability that was almost painful to witness. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally breaking free.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence, the admission cutting through you like a knife. The honesty in his voice, the fear that laced his words—it was all too much, too overwhelming.

I don’t want to love you felt like an insult being thrown at you.

You had allowed him to get closer and touch you just to be hurt by his words again.

You took a step back, pulling away from his touch as the hurt washed over you in waves. “Why would you say that?” You choked out, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "Why did you come here to say that to me?”

Joel’s face crumpled, regret and anguish etched into his features as he saw the effect his words had on you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. But I’m scared, and I don’t know how to handle this.”

The room felt stifling, the walls closing in as the weight of his confession settled between you. You had allowed yourself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have something good in this broken world. But now, that hope felt like it was slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but the cold, harsh reality of what was happening.

“I let you in,” you whispered, the tears streaming down your face. “I let you get close, and now you’re telling me you don’t want it? That you don’t want me?”

“No,” Joel said quickly, shaking his head as he reached for you, but you took another step back, keeping the distance between you. “That’s not what I’m saying. I do want you—I want you more than anything. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what it means and of what I could lose. I’ve lost so much already, and I don’t know if I can take losing you too.”

His words tugged at your heart, but the hurt was still too fresh, too raw. “You’re hurting me right now, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling. “By telling me you don’t want to love me, you’re hurting me more.”

Joel's face twisted in anguish as he heard your words, the pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He took a shaky breath, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and desperation.

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. It’s all so damn confusing, and I’m scared—scared of what loving you means, scared of what it could cost me, scared of how much I want you.”

His confession hung in the air, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you had been prepared to confront. The vulnerability in his eyes was something you had rarely seen in him, and it shook you to your core.

“I’ve spent so long keeping everyone at arm’s length,” Joel continued, his voice cracking under the strain of his emotions. “It was easier that way, safer. But you got under my skin. You made me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. And now, I don’t know what to do with all of it.”

You wanted to be angry, to lash out at him for pulling you in just to push you away, but the pain in his eyes was so real, so raw, that your anger melted away, leaving only a deep, aching sadness in its place.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The truth was, you were terrified—terrified of the feelings that were still so raw, so unresolved. Terrified of the possibility of opening yourself up again, only to be hurt even more deeply.

“I would rather lose you now than do it later,” you whispered, finally meeting his eyes. “The world we live in, the losses we’ve faced—it’s too much. And I don’t know if I can survive losing someone else again.”

Joel’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as he absorbed your words. The pain etched into his features was almost unbearable to see, a reflection of the turmoil that had been brewing between you both for so long.

“I get it,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I’ve lost more than I ever thought I could bear too. But walking away now, pushing me out—that won’t make it hurt any less if something happens. It just means we never had a chance to try.”

You shook your head, the tears welling up in your eyes. “But what if trying just makes it worse? What if we end up hating each other even more because of it?”

Joel took a small step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m scared too,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “But I’d rather take that risk with you than walk away and always wonder what we could’ve had. Because whether you see it or not, you’ve already gotten under my skin. I don’t want to let you go, not when I feel like I’m just starting to remember why I care.”

Your breath hitched, his words pulling at the fragile strings of your heart. The honesty in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice—it was everything you had feared and longed for all at once.

“But what if it falls apart?” You whispered, the uncertainty trembling in your voice.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” Joel said, his voice steady.

The storm outside continued to rage, the wind howling against the walls of the house, but inside, a fragile understanding was beginning to form. It wasn’t a solution; it wasn’t a cure for the pain you both carried, but it was a step—a small, tentative step towards something more.

“You treated me so badly,” you sobbed, shaking your head.

Joel's expression softened, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He knew you were right—he had treated you badly, even before everything had changed. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the mistakes he had made.

"I know," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I know I did, and I'm so damn sorry for that. I was... I was lost, and I took it out on you. I pushed you away because I was scared—scared of letting someone in, scared of getting close. But that doesn't excuse what I did. You didn’t deserve any of it."

“But you did it anyway,” you choked out, your voice breaking with the weight of your emotions. “You hurt me, Joel. You made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn’t matter.”

His hand trembled as he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your arm in a hesitant, almost pleading gesture. “You matter more to me than you know,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I see that now, and I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I don’t know how to make up for what I did, but I want to try. I want to be better, for you and for me.”

“I didn’t choose to fall in love with you, Joel,” you shot, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. “But here we are, and it’s tearing me apart!”

The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of your argument, the storm outside a reflection of the storm within. Neither of you wanted to back down; both were too hurt and confused to see a way forward.

“Why are you so afraid of letting me in now?” Joel asked, his voice softer but still filled with desperation. “What’s changed? What’s different to the last time?”

You hesitated, the truth clawing at your throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. I couldn’t admit that you were terrified of losing him again, of opening yourself up only to have it all ripped away.

“What’s changed?” Joel pressed, “Tell me.”

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the weight of everything you had been holding back finally broke through. “I’m afraid, Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m afraid that if I let myself love you again, it’s going to destroy me. And I don’t know if I can survive that. I can’t lose someone for a third time.”

Joel’s expression softened, his frustration giving way to something deeper, a sadness that mirrored your own. He reached out as if to touch you but hesitated, his hand hovering between you as if uncertain of its place.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, the weight of his own fears etched in every word. “But I’m scared too, scared of what happens if we don’t try. I know I screwed up, and I know I can’t take back what I did, but losing you without even trying? I don’t think I can live with that.”

His voice was raw, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t heard before. The storm outside seemed to still for a moment, the wind’s howl dying down as the two of you stood there, the silence between you filled with the unspoken pain and longing that had been building for weeks.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away,” Joel continued, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I’m not asking you to forget what happened. But I am asking for a chance—a chance to prove that I’m not going to walk away again, that I’m not going to forget what you mean to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked at him. His words touched something deep inside you, a part of you that still longed for the connection you’d once shared, despite everything that had happened.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Joel,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can survive losing you a second time.”

He took a step closer, finally closing the distance between you, his hand finding yours in a tentative, gentle touch. “I’m not going to put pressure on you, okay?” he assured you. “For now, let me stay here so you don’t have to be afraid of the storm alone, okay?”

You hesitated, your emotions a tangled mess of fear, longing, and uncertainty. The storm outside was relentless, the wind howling and rain lashing against the windows, mirroring the turmoil inside you. But there was something in Joel’s voice, in the gentle way he held your hand, that made you want to believe him.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, nodding slightly. “You can stay.”

Joel’s expression softened with relief, and he gently squeezed your hand, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened still hanging heavy in the air. But for now, in this small, fragile moment, there was a sense of peace between you.

Joel glanced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings before his gaze returned to you. “Where do you want me to set up?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if he didn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance of the moment.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You can stay in the living room,” you said, gesturing toward the couch. “I’ll get some blankets for you.”

He nodded, watching as you moved to gather what he’d need. As you handed him the blankets, your fingers brushed against his, and you felt a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill in the air.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Joel asked, his concern evident as he unfolded the blankets.

You managed a small, faint smile. “I’ll be fine,” you said, though the truth was, you weren’t entirely sure. But for now, having him close, knowing you weren’t alone in the storm, brought a small measure of comfort.

Joel settled onto the couch, arranging the blankets around him. As you turned to head back to your room, you paused, glancing back at him. He was watching you, his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and something else, something deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the storm.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

Joel made his way through the snow-dusted streets of Jackson, his breath puffing out in clouds as he walked toward Lori's house. The early morning light cast long shadows, the town still quiet except for the distant sound of someone chopping wood. The air was crisp, biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the unease twisting in his gut.

He reached Lori’s door and knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness. After a moment, the door creaked open, and Lori stood there, wrapped in a thick sweater, her hair tousled from sleep.

“Joel?” she asked, surprise flickering across her face. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Joel said, his tone serious. He stepped inside when she gestured him in, the warmth of the house enveloping him.

Lori led him to the small living area, where a fire crackled in the hearth. She sat down on the worn couch, motioning for him to join her, but Joel remained standing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“What’s going on?” Lori asked, concern creeping into her voice as she noticed his tension.

Joel took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Lori, I need to be honest with you,” he began, his voice steady but laced with regret. “What we’ve been doing—it was never meant to be serious, and I think we both knew that.”

Lori’s expression shifted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she searched his face. “Yeah, I know. We were just having fun, keeping things casual. But why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

Joel nodded, appreciating her straightforwardness. “There is,” he admitted. “I’ve been figuring some things out, and I’ve realized that I can’t keep doing this. I’ve got someone else in my life, someone who means more to me than I even realized until recently. I need to focus on that, on her.”

Lori’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she let out a small, resigned sigh. “You’re talking about her, aren’t you? The nurse?”

Joel nodded, unable to meet her eyes for a moment. “Yeah. I need to make things right with her.”

Lori’s demeanor shifted noticeably, her smile fading into a tight, bitter expression. “So, you’re just going to walk away? After everything?”

Joel winced at the edge in her voice, sensing that this wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he had hoped. “I’m not walking away from you out of spite. I just need to make a choice, and right now, my focus has to be on fixing what I’ve broken.”

Lori crossed her arms, her eyes flashing with anger. “So, what? You think you can just come here, say a few words, and everything will be okay? You think you can just turn your back on me and expect me to be fine with it?”

Joel took a step closer, trying to keep his tone calm. “Lori, this isn’t about making you okay with it. This is about me trying to do what’s right. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear.”

Her anger flared. “Right? What’s right? You think it’s right to just discard people like they don’t matter? You think you can just decide to play at relationships and then bail when it suits you?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Joel said, his voice heavy with regret. “But I can’t keep pretending this isn’t what it is. I need to focus on the person who really matters to me.”

Lori’s face was flushed with emotion, her voice rising. “You know what, Joel? Maybe you should have thought about that before you got involved with me. Maybe you should have been honest from the start instead of playing games.”

Joel looked away, feeling the weight of her words. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I can’t change what’s happened. I can only try to make things right moving forward.”

Lori’s eyes were filled with frustration and hurt. “Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that now. You should go.”

Joel nodded, feeling the sting of her words. “I understand. I’m sorry for everything.”

As Joel made his way back through Jackson, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in his chest. Ending things with Lori had been the right thing to do, but it also felt like one more piece of his life was falling apart. And now, all he could think about was the fragile connection he was trying to rebuild with you.

But Lori wouldn’t let things go so easily. Hurt and angry, she wasn’t ready to accept that Joel could just walk away from her.

You found yourself slipping back into old habits, avoiding Joel at every turn, retreating into your own space whenever he was near. The fragile connection you had started to rebuild felt too delicate, too vulnerable, and the fear of what it might mean was overwhelming. So, you did what you had always done when things got too close: you pushed him away.

You threw yourself into your work, taking extra shifts on the infirmary, volunteering for the more dangerous runs that others were hesitant to take. Anything to keep your mind occupied and your heart locked away. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the memory of Joel’s confession lingered, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

Every time you crossed paths with Joel, you made sure to keep the interaction as brief as possible. A curt nod, a mumbled greeting, and then you were gone before he could say anything more. You avoided the places you knew he frequented, taking different routes and making excuses to stay away from the common areas where you might run into him. You even started leaving for your shifts earlier and returning later, ensuring that you would miss him entirely.

But Joel wasn’t blind to what you were doing. He noticed the way you avoided his gaze, the way you kept your distance, and it cut him deeper than he would ever admit. The truth was, he understood why you were doing it. After everything that had happened between you—the misunderstandings, the hurt, the fear—it made sense that you would want to protect yourself.

Still, that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

As days passed, you found yourself trying to avoid Joel at all costs. You busied yourself with your duties, went out of your way to steer clear of places where you might run into him, and kept your interactions with others brief and impersonal. The emotional turmoil and the fear of vulnerability were too overwhelming for you to face him directly.

Joel, for his part, made several attempts to reach out. He tried to catch you in the common hall, to corner you in the infirmary, or to find a moment alone when you were on patrol. But every time, you were quick to deflect or disappear before he could get close.

One afternoon, as you were finishing up a shift at the infirmary, Joel appeared at the doorway. He hesitated, searching your face for any sign of recognition or willingness to talk. His heart ached at the sight of you, knowing how much he had hurt you and feeling powerless to bridge the gap between you.

You were in the middle of organizing some supplies when he cleared his throat, catching your attention. You looked up, your expression guarded.

"Hey," Joel began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "Can we talk?"

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. "There’s nothing to talk about, Joel. Not right now."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know I’ve messed things up. I just—"

"I said no," you interrupted, trying to keep your voice steady. "I need some space."

Joel’s footsteps echoed softly in the hallway as he closed the distance between you. His presence was undeniable, and the intensity in his gaze was palpable even if you refused to meet it.

“Please,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Just a moment. I need you to hear me out.”

You could feel the weight of his words pressing against your resolve. The space you had demanded was shrinking with every step he took closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

“You don’t understand,” Joel continued, his voice tinged with frustration and desperation. “I’m not asking for everything to be okay right now. I just need a chance to show you that I’m willing to change.”

You finally looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were filled with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve, and for a moment, you saw the man behind the mistakes—the man who was still trying to find his way back.

“Why should I believe you? You came to my house in the middle of the night, then you were nowhere to be found next morning.” You said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to remain composed. “After everything that’s happened, why should I trust that you’ll actually change?”

Joel’s expression softened, and he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because I know I’ve hurt you, and I hate that I’ve done that. But I’m not giving up. I’m trying to be better, for myself and for you. I know it’s going to take time, but I need you to at least let me show you that I’m trying.”

The air between you was charged, the emotions swirling around like a storm ready to break. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating towards you, and despite your best efforts to hold your ground, you found yourself drawn to the intensity of the moment.

“Joel,” you began, but the words caught in your throat. The storm in your heart was a tempest of conflicting feelings, and you struggled to find a path through it.

Joel reached out slowly, his hand on your waist, sending a shiver down your spine.

Joel’s hand rested gently on your waist, and the touch was electrifying. It sent a shiver down your spine, stirring feelings that you had tried to bury beneath layers of hurt and confusion. His gaze was unwavering, filled with a depth of emotion that seemed to pierce through the storm clouded in your heart.

“I know I can’t undo the past,” Joel said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m here now, and I want to make things right. I need you to know that I’m trying, even if it’s hard to believe.”

Your breath hitched as his touch lingered, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric of your clothes and pressing against your skin. The proximity was almost overwhelming, and you could feel the gravity of the moment pulling you closer to him.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. The memories of past pain and anger were still there, but they were overshadowed by the raw vulnerability in Joel’s eyes. His presence was a powerful force, and it was hard to ignore the way he made you feel—caught between the past and the promise of something new.

“Joel,” you whispered again, but this time your voice was filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension. “I don’t know if I can, if I’m ready.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he took a small, hesitant step closer, his hand still resting on your waist. “You don’t have to be ready right now. I’m not asking for everything to be fixed in an instant. I just want you to know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand were almost too much to bear. You felt the walls you had built around yourself beginning to crumble, and the storm in your heart seemed to calm, if only slightly.

“I just need to figure things out,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I need time.”

Joel nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and relief. “Take all the time you need.” He assured you, “But I want to let you know I begged Tommy to put us together on patrol tomorrow.”

You looked at him, surprised by his insistence. “Why would you do that?”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, a mix of resolve and vulnerability. “Because I want to be there for you. I want to show you that I’m committed to making things right, even if it means being there for you on patrol, even if it’s just another day together.”

His honesty was disarming, and despite the confusion and pain, you felt a flicker of warmth at his gesture. You understood his need to be close, to prove his commitment in any way he could.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your voice tinged with both gratitude and hesitation. “But I need to make sure I’m ready. I don’t want to bring any more complications.”

Joel nodded, his eyes showing a mixture of understanding and resolve. “I get it. Just know that I’m not pushing you. I’m here to support you, however you need.”

The sincerity in his eyes and the softness of his tone made it clear that he was willing to wait, to be patient. As the moment stretched between you, the storm in your heart seemed to settle even more, leaving behind a fragile sense of calm.

With a final, gentle squeeze on your waist, Joel stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you watched him walk away, the promise of a new day together hung in the air, a delicate thread of hope amidst the lingering uncertainties. The path forward was still uncertain, but for now, there was a small but significant step towards healing and reconnection.

The days after the storm, the skies were clear, a crisp blue stretching above Jackson as you and Joel prepared for your patrol. Despite the lingering tension from the night before, there was an unspoken agreement between you to carry on as usual, to slip back into the familiar rhythm of your routine.

The morning was quiet, the only sound being the crunch of gravel underfoot as you walked side by side, your horses trailing behind you. The air was cool, the ground still damp from the storm, and the world felt strangely peaceful after the chaos of the previous night.

As you rode through the woods, the silence between you was comfortable, but as always, it didn’t take long for a familiar banter to spark up.

“You always insist on taking the longer route,” Joel grumbled, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “We could be back by lunch if we just cut through the valley.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And miss out on the view from the ridge? Not a chance. Besides, you’re always in such a hurry. What’s the rush, Joel?”

“I just don’t see the point in dragging things out when there’s work to be done,” he shot back, though there was no real heat in his voice. It was the kind of argument you had a dozen times before, more out of habit than any real disagreement.

“You need to learn to appreciate the little things,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Like this beautiful day and the fact that we’re not freezing our asses off in a storm.”

Joel huffed, though you could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. “You sound like Tommy,” he muttered.

You were about to respond when your foot caught on a loose rock, sending you stumbling forward. It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react, your arms flailing as you tried to regain your balance.

But before you could hit the ground, Joel’s hand shot out, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back. The force of the movement caused you to overcompensate, and instead of falling to the ground, you ended up falling right into Joel, your chest colliding with his as you both tumbled backward.

You landed on top of him with an “oof,” your hands braced against his chest as you tried to steady yourself. For a moment, neither of you moved, the sudden closeness freezing you both in place.

Your faces were inches apart, your breath mingling with his as you looked down at him, your eyes locking. You could feel his heart pounding under your hands, the rapid thud of it mirroring your own.

The world around you seemed to fade away; the only thing you could focus on was the way his eyes searched yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. There was something raw and unguarded in the way he looked at you, as if he were seeing you for the first time, or maybe remembering you in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

“Careful there,” Joel said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

His words were gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the roughness of his hands as they held you steady, and for a moment, you were lost in the sensation, in the closeness of him.

“Thanks,” you breathed, your voice just as soft. You didn’t move; you didn’t dare break the moment, but you knew you couldn’t stay like this forever.

Reluctantly, you started to pull back, but not before you saw the flicker of disappointment in Joel’s eyes. It was there for just a second, but it was enough to make your heart ache and remind you of the delicate balance you were trying to maintain.

Once you were back on your feet, you offered him a hand, helping him up. He took it, his grip firm but lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his touch sending a warm tingle through you.

“Guess I should watch where I’m going,” you said with a small, self-deprecating laugh, trying to break the tension.

Joel just nodded, his eyes still on you, something unreadable in his expression. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “You should.”

“You blushed,” Joel said softly, his voice carrying a teasing edge as he dusted off his clothes.

His words caught you off guard, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, the flush creeping up your neck as you realized he was right. You had blushed, and he had noticed.

“I did not,” you muttered, though the denial was weak, the embarrassment clear in your tone as you tried to avoid his gaze.

Joel just chuckled, the sound low and rich, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. “Sure, you didn’t,” he said, clearly unconvinced. He wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily.

You shook your head, trying to will away the blush that you knew was only deepening with every second. “Just watch where you’re going next time,” you shot back, trying to deflect the attention from yourself.

Joel smirked, his expression softening as he looked at you with that familiar mix of amusement and affection. “You’re the one who tripped,” he reminded you, but there was no real bite to his words. If anything, he seemed almost pleased, as if the moment had lightened the tension that had been lingering between you since the night before.

You huffed in mock annoyance, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your true feelings. “Fine, you win this round,” you conceded, rolling your eyes playfully.

Joel just shook his head, still smiling as he started walking again; his pace slowed enough for you to fall in step beside him. “Don’t worry,” he said, his tone more serious now, though the warmth remained. “I’ve got your back. Always.”

His words, simple as they were, carried a weight that made your heart ache in the best way. You knew he meant it. For a mere moment of time, Joel seemed to be the one who woke up that day after his accident convinced he was going to make you fall in love with him. And though you weren’t sure what the future held, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence.

“I have to ask you something,” you began, unsure of how approaching the delicate topic you were about to dive into

“Sure.”

“When your daughter died.“

Joel’s reaction was immediate, his expression shifting from the tender warmth of a moment ago to a guarded hardness. His eyes, which had been so open and vulnerable, narrowed as he looked at you, his body tensing.

“How do you know about that?” He asked, his voice low and edged with a defensiveness you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

You hesitated, realizing that you had touched on a wound that was still raw and still painful for him. The last thing you wanted was to push him away, especially when things had been starting to mend between you.

“Joel, I—” you began, struggling to find the right words. “You told me a while ago.”

He stayed silent, his gaze still intense, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes now—maybe fear, maybe grief. You couldn’t be sure.

“I just… I want to understand you better,” you continued, your voice softening as you tried to bridge the gap between you.

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you feared he was going to shut down completely. But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “What happened to her—it broke me.” He said, walking forward.

“Did you feel like life stopped for you at that moment?” You asked, making him stop on his tracks.

Joel stopped dead in his tracks, the question hanging in the air between you like a weight that neither of you knew how to bear. His back was to you, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was going to respond or just walk away.

When he finally turned to face you, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes His eyes held a depth of pain that took your breath away.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It did.”

He looked down, as if he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze any longer, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Everything just stopped. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was like the world just shattered, and I was stuck in the middle of the wreckage, trying to find a way out, but there wasn’t one.”

You stepped closer to him, feeling the urge to close the distance between you to offer some kind of comfort, but you hesitated, unsure if he would welcome it. Instead, you just stood there, letting him speak, letting him finally give voice to the pain that had been locked inside him for so long.

“After that, nothing mattered,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “Nothing felt real. I just went through the motions and did what I had to do to survive. But there was this emptiness, this void that nothing could fill. And I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move past it.” He paused for a moment. “But then Ellie appeared, and I felt like a dad again.”

He glanced at you, searching your eyes for understanding. “It wasn’t the same, not by a long shot. But she gave me something to fight for, something to care about. I couldn’t just give up when she needed me. I had to keep going for her.”

The vulnerability in his voice was heartbreaking, and you could see how much Ellie meant to him and how she had somehow managed to pull him back from the edge. The bond they shared was unique, forged in the fires of loss and survival, and it had become a lifeline for him in ways you were only beginning to understand.

“Ellie’s special,” you said softly, not wanting to break the moment but needing to acknowledge the significance of what he was sharing with you. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Joel’s voice trembled as he spoke, the raw emotion seeping through the cracks of the façade he’d been holding onto. “Then you appeared,” he admitted, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I felt like you reminded me of the good times and of how sweet people used to be before all of this. And having to face that, it just reminded me of everything I lost.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your own heartache for him. Joel had been through so much, had lost so much, and now here he was, standing in front of you, his walls slowly crumbling as he let you see the parts of himself he kept hidden from the world.

“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” you said quietly, your voice laced with regret. “I never wanted to bring up old wounds.”

Joel shook his head, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh god, no. It’s not your fault. I was an asshole to you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just seeing someone like you, someone who still has that kindness, that light; it’s like looking at a world that doesn’t exist anymore. And it scares me.”

“Then why did you do it?” you asked, hoping that in the middle of this vulnerable side of Joel, he would be able to tell the truth. “You were nice to me at the beginning, then you were you.”

Joel’s expression faltered, and you could see the internal struggle play out across his face. He hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to protect you from the truth and the desire to finally be honest.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, a rawness that made your heart tighten in your chest.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “I need to know why, Joel.”

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather the courage to say what needed to be said. “One night you were tipsy. Just talking. I walked you home, and then you kissed me.”

Your breath hitched; the memory completely lost to you. “I kissed you?” you repeated, the disbelief evident in your tone.

Joel nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you remembered. “You did. And the next day, you acted like nothing happened. Like it was just another day.”

You felt a surge of confusion and frustration. “I don’t remember that, Joel. I was probably too out of it. But why would that make you treat me the way you did?”

His jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he tried to find the right words. “Because it scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I’d been fighting these feelings for so long, trying to keep them buried, and then you kissed me, and it was like everything I’d been holding back came rushing to the surface.”

You stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “So you pushed me away,” you said, the realization dawning on you.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Joel confessed, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t want to risk losing you. But at the same time, I couldn’t just pretend like nothing had changed. So I built up walls and acted like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter. But you do matter, more than I ever let on. And I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

The anger you’d felt simmering beneath the surface began to bubble over, your emotions a tangled mess of hurt and confusion. “So all this time, you were just punishing me for something I didn’t even remember? For something that clearly didn’t mean as much to me as it did to you?”

Joel winced at your words, the guilt evident in his eyes. “I know how it sounds, and I’m sorry. I was just I was scared, alright? Scared of what I was feeling, scared of what it could mean. And I took it out on you. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the truth.”

You took a step back, needing some space to process everything. “You should have just talked to me, Joel. We could have figured this out together instead of… whatever this mess is.”

“I know,” he said, his voice filled with remorse. “I messed up. And I know it’s going to take time to fix things, if I even can. But I’m willing to try if you’ll let me.”

The storm of emotions swirling inside you made it hard to think clearly. You felt hurt, angry, and confused, but also a small part of you understood where Joel was coming from, even if you didn’t like it.

“After your accident, I took care of you, Joel, and Oh my god! You’re such a baby,” you said.

Joel blinked, taken aback by your sudden shift in tone. “What?”

“You heard me,” you replied, crossing your arms. “You’re a baby. You couldn’t handle your feelings, so you pushed me away instead of just talking to me like an adult.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. “It wasn’t that simple.”

“Oh, but it was!” You cut him off, your frustration bubbling over. “I was there for you, Joel. I took care of you when you needed it, and you repay me by treating me like crap because you couldn’t deal with a stupid kiss.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance. “You’re a grown man, Joel. You’ve been through hell and back, and you let something as small as this trip you up? You’re right, you messed up. But you didn’t just mess up; you acted like a damn child.”

Joel’s defensiveness faded, replaced by a look of chagrin. “And you are mad at me still for not remembering things!”

“Oh my god, I’m not mad at you for that reason. I’m mad because of how you treated me.”

Joel looked down, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “I know. And I don’t blame you for being mad. I was wrong, and I should have handled things differently.”

You could see the regret etched into his features, but it didn’t make the sting of his actions hurt any less. “You pushed me away when I was just trying to be there for you,” you said, your voice wavering slightly as the emotions you’d been holding back started to surface. “I trusted you, and you made me feel like I did something wrong when all I wanted was to be close to you.”

You wanted to believe him, but the wall you’d built around yourself was still firmly in place. “You broke something, Joel, and I don’t know if it can be fixed,” you admitted.

Joel’s face fell, but he didn’t back down. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just… don’t give up on me yet.”

There was a long silence as you both stood there, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily between you. Finally, you nodded, though it was more out of exhaustion than anything else. “I’m not giving up,” you said quietly. “But I’m not ready to forgive you either.”

Joel nodded slowly, accepting your words for what they were a small step forward.

The tension between you and Joel was palpable as you turned to continue your walk back to Jackson. The path ahead was familiar, but it felt different now, heavy with the weight of the conversation you’d just had. Joel walked a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed, though you could feel his presence like a shadow at your back.

The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Each step you took was a reminder of the fractured bond you were both trying to navigate. The trees around you swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers in the quiet, but the usual comfort of the forest felt distant, overshadowed by the turmoil in your heart.

As the gates of Jackson came into view, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. The town, once a place of refuge, now felt like a minefield of emotions you weren’t ready to face. You knew that when you walked through those gates, you’d have to see the people who had become your family, the ones who had seen you and Joel together, and you weren’t sure how to handle their questions or their concern.

Joel’s voice broke the silence, soft and hesitant. “We’re almost there. Do you want me to walk you the rest of the way?”

You paused, considering his offer. It was a simple question, but it carried so much more weight than either of you wanted to acknowledge. You were exhausted—physically, emotionally—and the idea of facing everyone on your own felt overwhelming. But at the same time, you weren’t sure if you could handle being so close to Joel after everything that had been said.

“I think I can manage,” you replied, your voice tinged with weariness. You turned to look at him, your expression softening just a little. “But… thank you.”

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You gave him a small, tired smile before turning back toward the gates. As you walked through them, you could feel the eyes of the guards and townspeople on you, their concern evident. You kept your head down, trying to avoid their gazes, and made your way to your quarters as quickly as possible.

Unbeknownst to you, Lori stood a short distance away, partially obscured by the shadows of a nearby building. Her eyes followed you and Joel, her expression unreadable. She had seen the two of you walking in together, though not exactly side by side, and the tension between you was obvious even from where she stood.

Lori’s heart clenched with a mixture of emotions she struggled to sort through. Anger, hurt, jealousy. They all swirled inside her, but there was something else too, something she didn’t want to admit. A pang of guilt, perhaps? She watched as Joel lingered near the gates, his gaze following you until you disappeared.

During net day, as you headed to the bar to grab something to eat for lunch, your thoughts were dancing around Joel’s words. And as if you were calling out for him, you saw him and Tommy sprinting towards you, their expressions tense and urgent.

“Hey!” Tommy called out, his voice sharp with worry. He reached you first, slightly out of breath, and placed a hand on your shoulder to steady himself. “We just got word—one of our patrol groups ran into raiders. They’re hurt, bad.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the air suddenly feeling colder around you. “Who? Where are they?” you asked, your voice shaky as fear began to creep in.

Joel was right behind Tommy, his face a mask of concern. “They’re bringing them in now. Maria sent a team to help. We need to get to the gates.”

The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind raced as you tried to process the information. “Do you know who’s hurt?” you managed to ask, even though you were dreading the answer.

Tommy shook his head. “We don’t know all the details yet. We just know they ran into trouble, and it wasn’t pretty. You should come with us.”

Without another word, the three of you started running towards the gates, your lunch forgotten. The closer you got, the more your heart pounded, fear clawing at your insides. The people of Jackson had become like family to you, and the thought of any of them being hurt—possibly worse—was unbearable.

As you neared the gates, you could see a small crowd gathering, everyone’s faces etched with worry. The gates creaked open, and you spotted the patrol group returning. The sight that met your eyes made your stomach drop.

Several members of the group were being supported by others, their clothes stained with blood and dirt. One of them was limping heavily, another clutching a makeshift bandage around their arm, and a third was barely conscious, their heads lolling to the side as they were carried in on a stretcher.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your hand flying to your mouth in shock. You recognized some of the faces—people you’d shared meals with, worked alongside, and laughed with. Seeing them like this was like a nightmare come to life.

Joel was already moving towards the injured, his instincts kicking in. He glanced back at you, his expression a mix of determination and concern. “Come on,” he said, his voice firm. “We need to help.”

You immediately went into action, with the medical staff, two doctors, and you were there to assist and prepare the supplies you needed. The chaos of the scene was familiar, and you worked efficiently, focusing on the task at hand.

As you worked, you heard footsteps behind you and glanced up to see Joel entering the room. His face was pale, his usual confidence replaced with concern. He looked around, trying to make sense of the situation, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, you saw the same depth of emotion you had seen before, a silent understanding passing between you.

Joel approached you, his voice low. “How can I help?”

You were momentarily taken aback by the offer, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. “Just keep out of the way for now. I need to focus on these guys. They’re in bad shape.”

Joel nodded and stepped back, watching with a mix of concern and helplessness as you and the medical staff worked. The minutes ticked by as you tended to the injured, applying bandages, administering pain relief, and stabilizing their conditions. The work was intense, but you were in your element, pushing aside any personal worries for the moment.

You moved swiftly from one patient to the next, checking vitals and administering care. When you reached Ethan, one of the patrol members who had been particularly badly hurt, you could see that he was in a bad state. His face was pale, and his breathing was shallow. His eyes, once sharp and alert, now seemed distant, lost.

"Ethan," you said softly, trying to get his attention. "How are you feeling? Can you tell me what's hurting the most?"

For a moment, Ethan didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on something far away, his mind seemingly adrift. You noticed a dark, spreading stain on his arm, and upon closer inspection, you realized with a jolt that it was a bite mark. The infection was spreading, and it was clear that Ethan was in the early stages of infection.

Panic surged through you as you looked up at Ethan's face, your heart sinking. "Ethan, you’ve been bitten. We need to—"

Before you could finish, Ethan’s eyes snapped back into focus. In a sudden, violent movement, he grabbed you by the neck, his grip strong and desperate. His expression was a mix of fear and anguish, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the sheer intensity of it.

"Get away from him!" Joel’s voice cut through the chaos. He rushed forward, grabbing Ethan’s arm and pulling it away from your neck, managing to pry Ethan’s fingers loose, though Ethan struggled against him.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears and how bad you were bearing for breathing.

The sudden force of Joel’s intervention broke Ethan’s hold, and he fell back, his breath ragged and his eyes wild. The other medical staff quickly moved in to restrain him, and you stumbled back, gasping for air, your hands instinctively rubbing your neck.

Joel’s eyes were wide with a mix of fear and anger. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently, his gaze scanning your face for any signs of injury or distress.

You nodded, though your voice was shaky. "I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken."

Joel’s expression softened with relief, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes. “We need to handle this. If he’s infected.” His voice trailed off, the grim reality settling in.

The gunshot put your attention back on Ethan, who now lay motionless on the ground.

The sharp sound of the gunshot echoed through the infirmary, pulling your attention back to Ethan. His body lay motionless on the ground, a grim testament to the harsh realities of your world. The medical staff had taken the necessary precautions, but the finality of the situation was palpable.

Joel’s face was a mask of conflicted emotions, his eyes shifting from the lifeless form of Ethan to you. The weight of what had just happened hung heavily in the air, and the reality of the infection and its consequences was stark and unforgiving.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The adrenaline was still coursing through you, making it difficult to think clearly. The reality of Ethan's fate, coupled with the close call you had just experienced, left you feeling shaken and vulnerable.

“Are you sure you’re, okay?” Joel asked again, his voice softer now but still filled with concern.

You managed a nod, though your hands were still trembling slightly. “I’m alright. Just… a little rattled.”

Joel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his worry evident. He seemed to be grappling with his own emotions as well.

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking up at him.

Joel blinks, caught off guard by your question. He had been so focused on your well-being that it hadn’t occurred to him that you might be concerned about him too. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, though his voice was thick with emotion. But the way his hand lingered on your arm, the way his eyes softened when they met yours, told a different story.

You weren’t sure what made you do it; maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins or the rawness of the moment, but you reached up and gently touched his cheek.

Joel closed his eyes as your fingertips lightly grazed his cheek, the warmth of your touch sending a jolt through him. For a moment, the chaos of the scene around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a fragile bubble of quiet intimacy.

He opened his eyes slowly, meeting your gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he said softly, though his words lacked conviction. “I’ve seen worse.”

You nodded, understanding that while he might brush off concern for himself, the weight of the situation was affecting him deeply. “I know,” you said gently, your voice barely more than a whisper.

As the day wore on and the news of the raiders surrounding Jackson spread, the town sprang into action. The common area transformed into a hub of activity as people gathered to discuss a strategy to defend what everyone called home. The mood was tense but determined; everyone knew how critical it was to stay united and vigilant.

Tommy and Maria were at the forefront, rallying the community and coordinating efforts to ensure everyone's safety. Their voices cut through the cacophony of worried chatter as they outlined the plan.

“We need to have eyes on every approach,” Tommy said firmly. “We can’t afford to miss anything. If anyone sees anything suspicious, report it immediately.”

Maria nodded in agreement, her face a mask of resolve. “We’re going to split into groups. Some will keep watch from the perimeter; others will stay here and fortify the defenses.”

Amidst the crowd, you stepped forward, ready to volunteer for the lookout duty. “I’m in,” you said, raising your hand. “I can help keep watch.”

Joel, who had been helping with preparations, looked up sharply. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You need to stay here. It’s too dangerous out there.”

You were taken aback by his sudden, forceful objection. “Joel, I can handle it. I’ve been out there before, and I know how to stay safe.”

Joel stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of concern and frustration. “This isn’t the same as a routine patrol. The raiders are already here, and things are going to get rough. I don’t want you out there.”

“I’ve been dealing with that before,” you gritted between your teeth.

“She’s strong, but we need at least five more people,” Tommy said.

Joel's expression remained firm as he looked at you, but there was an unmistakable trace of worry in his eyes. “I get that you’ve been through a lot, but this isn’t just about being strong. It’s about the risk. I can’t—”

Tommy interjected, his voice steady but urgent. “She’s strong, Joel, but we need at least five more people out there to cover all the necessary positions. We don’t have enough eyes on the perimeter as it is.”

Maria nodded in agreement, glancing between you and Joel. “We need all the help we can get. I understand Joel’s concern, but the priority is to keep everyone safe. If you’re willing, we can use you out there.”

Joel’s gaze flickered between you and Tommy, the conflict clear on his face. He knew the stakes were high, and while his protective instincts were strong, he also recognized the necessity of having enough people on the ground.

“I don’t like it,” Joel said finally, his voice softer but still laden with concern.

Joel’s concern was palpable, but before he could say more, Lori stepped forward from the group, her expression determined. “If you’re worried about her, then let me go too,” she said firmly, her gaze meeting Joel’s.

Joel looked at Lori, surprise flickering across his face. “Lori, I—”

Lori cut him off, her tone resolute. “Look, I’ve got experience with situations like this. I’m willing to put myself out there. If it helps you feel better about her going, then let me join her.”

Maria glanced between Joel and Lori, clearly weighing the situation. “That could actually work,” she said thoughtfully. “If we have both of you out there, it might alleviate some of the pressure.”

Joel hesitated, still visibly torn. He didn’t trust Lori at all.

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Lori, his concern clearly evident. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of her going out there with you, especially given the tension between the two of you.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Joel said, his voice low but firm. “Lori, you’ve got experience, but this situation is different. It’s more dangerous than anything we’ve faced recently.”

Lori met his gaze with equal determination. “I understand your concern, Joel, but if I can help keep things under control, then I’m willing to take the risk.”

Maria, sensing the mounting tension, stepped in to medierate. “Joel, I understand your hesitation. But we need to make sure we have enough people to cover all positions. If Lori’s offering to help and she’s capable, it might be our best option.”

Joel’s eyes flickered with frustration as he glanced at you, then back at Lori. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But both of you need to stay in touch and make sure you’re covering each other’s backs. I don’t want any risks.”

As the group readied themselves to head out, the tension was palpable. The urgency of the situation had everyone moving swiftly, but there was a lingering heaviness in the air, a mix of anxiety and unspoken feelings.

You and Joel exchanged one final, intense glance before you left. His eyes held a storm of emotions—concern, fear, and something deeper that you couldn’t quite place. It was clear he was struggling with the idea of you going out there, but he was also showing the resolve to stay behind and protect Jackson if things went wrong.

“Be careful,” Joel said, his voice soft but stern. There was a vulnerability in his tone that was almost painful to hear.

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “I will. You too, Joel.”

With a final look, you turned and joined Tommy, Lori, and the rest of the group. As you walked away, you felt a mixture of resolve and unease. The path ahead was uncertain, and the weight of the responsibilities you carried felt heavier with each step.

The sky was darkening as you and Lori took your positions around Jackson. The sounds of the town preparing for the possible assault filled the air—voices calling out instructions, the clatter of equipment being readied, and the distant murmur of worried conversations.

Lori nodded, her expression softening slightly. “We’ll be careful. You have my word.”

You could see the weight of Joel’s concern in his posture, the way his jaw tightened and his eyes searched yours. It was clear he was still struggling with letting you go out there, but he was also facing the reality of the situation.

“Let’s get ready,” Maria said, stepping in to redirect the focus. “We’ve got to move fast if we’re going to set everything up in time.”

Joel and Tommy exchange a look from the distance. One look that said

Please protect her from all.

The group moved through the woods with tense precision. The night was dark, and the forest seemed to close in around them, the trees casting long, eerie shadows in the dim light. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig sent a jolt of anxiety through the group as they moved carefully toward their designated positions.

You were positioned with Lori and a few other members; your nerves heightened as you scanned the surrounding area. The anticipation of an attack weighed heavily on you, each sound in the forest amplified by the tension of the situation. Lori was focused, her experience evident in her movements as she checked and rechecked her gear.

Tommy, who had stayed behind for a while, was now close enough to provide support if needed but kept their distance to avoid drawing attention. His gaze was constantly shifting, his eyes searching the darkness for any signs of movement. The worry etched into his face was evident even from a distance.

As the minutes ticked by, the silence grew more oppressive, each member of the group lost in their own thoughts and preparations. The night felt endless, the anticipation building as everyone awaited the inevitable clash.

Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the sound of distant shouts and the unmistakable noise of raiders closing in. The group’s alertness surged into action as everyone took their positions, readying themselves for the confrontation.

“Here they come!” Lori’s voice cut through the tension, her tone commanding. “Stay sharp and keep an eye on each other!”

The raiders emerged from the darkness, their figures outlined against the low light of the moon. The confrontation was chaotic and intense, the night erupting into a flurry of movement and noise. You fought with determination; every instinct heightened as you defended your position.

Despite the chaos, you could feel the presence of your allies around you; their movements synchronized as they worked together to repel the raiders. The noise of gunfire and shouts filled the air, and you found a grim sense of focus as you engaged with the attackers.

In the midst of the chaos, Lori’s actions took a dangerous turn. Amid the melee, she made a sudden, unexpected move that shifted the dynamics of the confrontation. As you and Tommy were engaged with the raiders, Lori took it upon herself to maneuver through the fray, pushing for a more aggressive stance.

“Cover me!” Lori shouted, her voice rising above the din. “I’m going to create a diversion!”

Before anyone could fully grasp her intention, Lori threw a series of flashbangs and smoke grenades into the thick of the raiders. The sudden blinding light and thick smoke created confusion among the attackers but also disrupted your group’s coordination.

The diversion had the unintended effect of drawing the raiders' focus toward the source of the commotion. The chaos escalated quickly, with the raiders now focused on the new threat and your group struggling to maintain control.

In the disarray, Lori’s actions created an opening for a smaller group of raiders to break through the defenses. The confusion spread, and it became increasingly difficult for everyone to stay organized. As the situation grew more chaotic, some members of the group started to retreat, trying to regroup and escape from the overwhelming numbers of raiders.

Tommy, realizing the deteriorating situation, shouted, “We need to fall back! Get to the rendezvous point!”

Amid the confusion, Lori’s initial strategy had backfired. She and the others began to withdraw, but in the scramble to escape, it became evident that you were separated from the rest of the group. You fought to hold your ground, but the chaos and disorganization made it nearly impossible to regroup.

In the thick of the battle, you tried to push your way toward the retreating group, but the raiders were relentless. Despite your efforts, you found yourself isolated, with the sounds of the retreating group fading into the distance. The enemy's numbers were overwhelming, and you had to take cover behind a nearby structure, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath.

The night seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited, your thoughts racing with worry about whether you’d be able to rejoin your group. The noise of the battle grew distant, replaced by the eerie silence of the aftermath.

When the group finally made it back to Jackson, the atmosphere was tense and somber. Tommy and Lori arrived, looking battered and exhausted. The sight of the raiders repelled, and the group’s narrow escape was overshadowed by the stark absence of you.

The patrol group trudged back into Jackson, their faces weary and their clothes stained with dirt and blood. They moved slowly, burdened by the weight of the day's events. As they passed through the gates, people began to gather, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

Joel was waiting anxiously at the gate, his face etched with concern. As soon as he saw Tommy and Lori, his eyes darted around, searching for you. When he saw that you were missing, his face went pale, and a deep anger began to simmer beneath the surface.

“Where is she?” Joel demanded; his voice barely controlled. His eyes locked onto Tommy with a fierce intensity. “Where the hell is she?”

Tommy's face was grim as he approached Joel. “We lost her in the chaos. Lori tried to make a diversion, and things got out of hand. We couldn’t get back to her.”

Joel’s eyes shot to Lori; his anger palpable. “A diversion? You’re telling me you put her in danger and didn’t make sure she was safe?”

Lori’s face was flushed with exhaustion and guilt. “It was a mistake, Joel. I didn’t mean for it to get out of control. We were trying to get the raiders to focus elsewhere so we could regroup.”

Joel's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. “A mistake? She’s out there alone because of you. How could you let this happen?”

Maria stepped in, trying to diffuse the escalating situation. “Joel, yelling at Lori isn’t going to help. We need to focus on finding her. We have to get a search party together and head back out.”

Joel took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t get to make that call,” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “If anything happens to her,”

“She’ll be fine,” Lori cut him off, rolling her eyes. “You’re overreacting.”

Joel’s eyes were wild with panic and anger. “No, you don’t understand. She could be hurt, or worse. We need to get out there now!”

Tommy put a hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “We will. But we need to be smart about it. We can’t rush in without a plan. We’ll organize a search party and go as soon as we can.”

Joel shook his head, his breathing heavy and uneven. “I don’t care about plans. I’m not waiting around while she’s out there.”

But Joel wasn’t listening. He was already turning away, his mind racing with a hundred different scenarios, each worse than the last. He needed to find you to make sure you were safe. The thought of you out there, alone and vulnerable, sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Without another word, Joel stormed off towards the gates, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t going to wait around for someone else to bring you back. He would find you himself, no matter what it took.

Joel raced through the woods, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he searched for any sign of you. The setting sun cast long shadows over the path, and the dense trees around him made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. But he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. The thought of you out here alone, in danger, was enough to keep him moving, fear and adrenaline pushing him forward.

Joel refused to let himself think about the worst possibilities; he just needed to find you.

Tommy was right behind him, struggling to keep up with Joel's relentless pace. “Joel, slow down!” Tommy called out, his voice strained. “We need to do this smart. If you get hurt, we’re no good to anyone.”

Joel didn’t respond, his focus solely on finding you. He knew Tommy was right, but the fear gnawing at him made it impossible to slow down. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and every shadow that moved in the corner of his eye made his heart skip a beat.

After what it felt like hours of searching, Joel and Tommy came upon a clearing. The scene before them was chaotic—bodies of raiders lay scattered across the ground, the aftermath of a brutal fight. Blood stained the dirt, and the silence was eerie, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

When Joel reached the house, the door was ajar, creaking on its hinges as the wind pushed it back and forth. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and urgency propelling him forward. He approached cautiously, his hand gripping his revolver tightly, every nerve on edge. Behind him, Tommy moved in tandem, his rifle at the ready, the two brothers moving as one unit.

Joel nudged the door open with his foot, and it swung inward with a loud creak, revealing the scene inside. The room was a disaster—furniture overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor, and the bodies of several men lying lifeless on the ground. Bloodstains marred the walls and floor, the remnants of a violent struggle.

Tommy entered behind him, his eyes sweeping the room with a practiced intensity. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, the carnage in front of them telling a grim story.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes searched the room, desperately looking for you among the chaos. The fear of what he might find gnawed at him, each second feeling like an eternity.

And then he saw you.

You were slumped against the far wall, your body still and pale, but you were alive. Relief surged through him, though it was tempered by the sight of your injuries. Joel rushed to your side, his revolver slipping from his grip as he knelt down next to you, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch your face.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” He gently touched your face, his fingers brushing against your cold skin as he checked for any serious injuries.

You blinked, your eyes struggling to focus on him. “Joel?” you murmured weakly, the sound of his name on your lips a small comfort to him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? Just stay with me.”

You nodded faintly, your body leaning into his touch as if you couldn’t bear to hold yourself up any longer. “They… they ambushed us,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I tried… but there were too many.”

"Did you kill them all by yourself?" Tommy asked, his voice tinged with both awe and concern as he glanced around the room, taking in the lifeless bodies scattered across the floor.

You nodded weakly, the effort it took to do so evident in the way your body sagged against Joel’s. “I didn’t have a choice,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “They were going to… I couldn’t let them…”

Joel’s heart ached as he listened to you, the weight of what you’d been through settling heavily on his shoulders. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the toll that the fight had taken on you, both physically and emotionally.

“You did what you had to,” Joel said, his voice steady but filled with a fierce protectiveness. “You survived, and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m sleepy, Joel,” you said, trying to close your eyes, and that’s when Joel’s breath caught in his throat. As he felt the warm, sticky blood on his hand. The sight of it. You had blood dripping from your shirt.

He pressed his hand more firmly against your wound, trying to stem the bleeding, but it was clear that you were slipping away.

Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he saw your eyelids droop, your voice growing weaker with every word. “No, no, no,” he muttered, his voice thick with panic as he gently shook you. “You have to stay awake, alright? Just keep your eyes on me.”

He quickly adjusted his grip on you, his hand moving to press against your abdomen where the blood was seeping through your clothes. The wound was worse than he had initially realized, and the sight of it made his stomach twist with fear.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice trembling. “I’m not losing you; you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but the pain and exhaustion were overwhelming, pulling you toward unconsciousness. “Joel… it hurts,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I know, sunshine, I know,” he said, his heart breaking at the sight of you in so much pain.

sunshine

It took him almost to lose you to remember your words.

It took him almost to lose you to remember yours I love you.

It took him almost to lose you to realize how important you were to him.

"I'm sleepy" you whispered, almost inaudible to hear.

"No, you're not," Joel said.

"Shhh.Let me sleep, Joel. Can you carry me to bed?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he struggled to keep his composure. “I’m carrying you, okay. Every single day for the rest of my life, I’ll carry you,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispered into your hair, his tears mixing with the dirt and blood on your skin. He was terrified of how still you were in his arms, caught between life and death.

“I’ll save you like you saved me,” he vowed, his voice a desperate prayer as he held you close, willing you to stay with him, to fight, to live.

+++++++++++

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.

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[synqiri]

I LOVE YOU SO.

in which you are insecure about whether or not he truly likes you, and he comforts you in turn.

or, the first time he says ‘i love you’.

PAIRING: wanderer x gn!reader

WARNINGS: none

WORDCOUNT: 1.5K || CONTENT: hurt/comfort, you're a bit of an overthinker, you cry, wanderer is bad at Feelings™ but he's trying

NOTES: a lil different from my usual style but yes >:3

“do you even like me?”

wanderer turns to look at you, confused, brows drawn. he scoffs, as if you had just asked if the sky was blue. perhaps to him, you may as well have. “what kind of ridiculous question is that?”

it’s late, you think, and the sun has long since dipped beyond the horizon. the both of you are idling in bed, him with a book in his hands, and you with nothing but worries on your mind. you sigh. you hadn’t meant to blurt it out in that manner, but since it already happened, you may as well…

“i just — it’s so stupid, i know, but… it feels as if you only put up with me, y’know? and that you don’t really like like me. i’m sorry, i’m just —”

“you truly get the most foolish ideas.”

his tone is biting, his eyes an electrifying violet. the book in his hands creases in his grip, and you wince. you wonder if he’s angry at you.

then again, he always seems irritated at you, doesn’t he? a tiny little voice whispers in your mind. it sounds bitter and resigned, and you find yourself getting angry at that thought. something sour claws its way up your throat. “do you have to sound so snide all the time? is it so hard just — just speak nicely to me for once?”

his lips part, yet nothing comes out. he looks astounded, really, and it’s probably the first time you’ve seen him without a witty retort in response. it’s not satisfying at all. that realisation only serves to worsen your mood.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes. archons, it’s not like you to get this emotional, to blow up at him like this. you knew what you were getting into, falling in love with the wanderer. you knew he was guarded and prickly and cold and you chose to love him anyway. 

perhaps he was right and you truly did have the stupidest ideas. you had been friends with wanderer before you had been lovers, and he had opened up to you so much in that span of time that you thought if you took things further, he’d only trust you more. but he hadn’t. in fact, ever since you began dating, it felt as if he had begun to pull away. 

how foolish, that little voice says. did you think you could change him?

roughly, you bring the back of your palm to wipe the dampness from your eyes. you sniffle, throat tight. “sorry, just… ignore that. forget about it. it’s been a long day and i shouldn’t take it out on you. i’m g’na sleep now.”

you switch off your lamp, and the room plunges into the darkness. not even the moon is out tonight, the moonlight blocked by the thick, rolling clouds. you settle yourself into bed comfortably, facing the wall as you do. 

usually, you’d be cuddling right up to him, despite all his grumbled protests. he always let you have your way in the end, anyway. you can’t help but smile a bit at that. 

despite everything, you know he isn’t all bad. he can be kind and sweet and gentle and absolutely swoon-worthy — and even then, those moments are getting increasingly hard to come by in the recent weeks.

“i wouldn’t be here, playing house with you, if i didn’t like you,” wanderer says suddenly, tentatively. his tone is softer than it had been before, and you know it is meant to be his way of comfort. 

you know he favours you, cares for you. the evidence is in everything he does, in the way no one else would be able to act the way you do with him but you. except all his softness is buried under layers and layers of all the things he has yet to work through. and though you’ve always been the patient type, his callousness chipped away at your spirit little by little til you were a mess of anxiety and insecurity and —

white-hot anger stabs at you then, despite all your efforts to force it down. you laugh wetly, voice thick. “you have a funny way of showing your feelings, y’know that?”

“you never approach me first. and there was that week i decided to wait and see if you would, and it took you a whole week before you — and you’re always so guarded — and that’s not the problem but the problem is you act like you trust me less now than when we were just friends and —”

you’re rambling now, everything that you had been bottling up bubbling out of you in surges. you draw in a shallow, shuddery breath, and it’s only then you notice the dampness on your pillow. you rub at your eyes harshly, sighing. 

“i know you hate being vulnerable, seeming weak — but if you can’t trust even me then what’s the point? i really… i don’t know how much more of this i can take.”

you go silent there, having run out of things to say. yet your tears can’t seem to stop, your body curled tight, your back facing him. you don’t know how you’d be able to look him in the eye again, after an outburst like that. gods, what if he broke things off with you? what if…

“i warned you about what you were getting yourself into,” he says softly, “loving someone like me. foolishly, you chose me anyway.”

how in teyvat was that supposed to make you feel any better? had he not been listening to you for the past ten minutes?

“and like an utter fool, i couldn’t have been happier.”

oh.

he shifts, the bedsheets rustling, and you’re tempted to turn and look. but you don’t. not yet. sighing, he continues, “you make me soft. weak. i couldn’t accept it.”

“so you started to distance yourself from me.” 

it comes out flatly, a short, unimpressed realisation. you wonder why he agreed to date you if all he’d do is push you away. you have a feeling he doesn’t have an answer either. he falls quiet at your words, a silent acknowledgment. 

“i’m sorry,” he says finally, stumbling over the words. “you deserve better than that. than me.” 

the words, though spoken no louder than a whisper, echo within the silence of the room. you’re crying again, silently this time, and more out of relief than anger and hurt. you bite on your lip to swallow your sobs, but don’t bother about wiping your eyes. you didn’t expect you’d hear him apologise, let alone admit he should’ve treated you better. it lightens something in your heart, the tension in your chest dissipating a little. 

still, you think, even if you deserved better, it is him that you loved, and you’d be truly foolish to give it all up because of problems that could be worked through.

“think of me however you want,” he tells you. there’s an undertone of earnestness in his voice now, hesitant but true. “i am far from a good person, much less a good lover. even so… never doubt the fact that it is you who i love.”

you falter. he… what?

“you — you love me?” you ask. it comes out in a dazed murmur. slowly, you turn to look at him, eyes swollen and all. you must look ridiculous now, you think, but you find you can’t quite care a bit. “you mean it?”

he lets out a low chuckle, as if he can’t quite believe it either. “i do.”

despite yourself, you can’t stifle the small smile that grows on your face. it’s the first time he’s ever said that to you, the first time he’s ever explicitly expressed his feelings toward you out loud in words. 

“will you say it again?"

“i love you,” he says again, this time, without any hesitation. he huffs, and you’d like to think he sounds fond. his tone turns lofty. “you should be proud of yourself. to be the only person who can make a fool out of me.”

there’s a small smile tugging at his lips too, his eyes bright and soft and warmer than you’ve ever seen before. you laugh softly, rubbing the tear stains from your face. you feel unbelievably light, lighter than you have in days. it’s a nice feeling. 

“will you try, at least? to be a good lover?” you ask hopefully. you don’t think you’re asking for much, really. “i think… then, we can work on being a good couple together.”

he agrees easily, almost breathing out the word. “yeah.” 

you yawn. all that crying has you completely exhausted, and you suppose it’s time to call it a day. stretching, you reposition yourself comfortably, cocooning yourself in the blankets. he didn’t need them anyway. 

“good night,” you whisper, eyes already fluttering shut. 

your consciousness dips partway into slumber then, so you don’t get to hear his response. yet you feel a warm, gentle pressure on your cheek, and something light ghosting over your forehead. you smile.

and for now, that is enough.

[katsu28]

Hi, I really like your writing! I had an idea for a fic with Lando. He left school really young (he got tutored privately afterwards according to wikipedia) and mayhaps that could make him feel insecure or something along those lines if he has a significant other that is in university, maybe studying to get a bachelors or masters degree. School is not everything and does not accurately measure intelligence or anything else but it is still a standard that most people hold and compare themselves too. It's something that I know all to well, which is where this idea came from. Whatever you do with it thank for reading it!💖

thank you for trusting me with your idea <3

lando norris x reader, r is in an unspecified master's program, 1.5k.

Lando loves how smart you are.

He tells you all the time. When you’re stressed from the intensity of your master’s program, nervous about an exam, or most of the time, just randomly. He’s proud of you for taking on something he definitely doesn’t have the brains for, and for absolutely crushing it so far. 

He left school before even completing his GCSEs in year 10, just so he could focus on racing full time—a decision he’d never regret, but always wondered about.

What would his life have looked like if he hadn’t devoted it to pursuing a career in racing? Would he have finished secondary school? Made it to university?

He doesn’t even know what he would’ve studied. 

Granted, he was never really good at school to begin with, but things could’ve changed. Now don’t get him wrong, he would never change a thing, but that didn’t mean he never thought about what might’ve been. 

So yes, Lando loves how smart you are, but if he’s being honest with himself, it does make him feel a little insecure about his own intellect.

-------

Lando finds you in your workspace when he gets home from padel with Max. 

He’d turned one of his guest rooms into a sort of office slash study space for you when you moved in with him all that time ago, a place where you could get your work done in a quiet environment whenever you needed to. The space itself was one of the smaller rooms, but still bigger than you were used to, and decorated to perfection too. 

A standing desk with an ergonomic chair (better for your neck and back, he’d said, so you weren’t hunched over your books all the time), a smart blackboard on one wall for any necessary brainstorming, a comfy chair in another corner—all overlooking the Monte Carlo cityscape from massive floor to ceiling windows. Everything else has been up to you, but Lando wanted nothing but the best for his smart girl. 

He pads in silently, making his way over to where you're furiously typing at your computer to press a kiss to your cheek. You flinch a little, startled out of your own world at the action. Your eyes fly to his, wide, before your posture relaxes again. 

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” You breathe, giving him a short kiss on the lips this time. 

“Didn’t mean to make you jump like that, darling. My bad,” He chuckles. He leans over your shoulder, squinting at the diagrams on your screen. “What’s that?” 

“Oh, it’s—” You pause, flicking through a few pages of the textbook next to your computer. Your lips twist to the side in thought, and then you smile at him in what he’s sure you meant to be an assuring way. “Nevermind, you probably wouldn’t get it.” 

He knows you don't mean it as a dig or anything, but the brush off ignites a bitter taste on his tongue. And if there’s one thing about Lando, it’s that he feels everything extremely strongly. “Well I’m sorry, not all of us can be geniuses.” 

“Pardon?” You look genuinely stunned at his outburst, at this huge 180 degree turn his mood has taken within the last few seconds.

Then he can't help the words tumbling out of his mouth next. “I get it, alright? ‘Lando doesn't know what I’m talking about, let’s make Lando feel dumb!” 

He storms off before you can process his stinging words, but even then, the anger that had just flared up in him has already dissipated. Lando knows all of it comes from a place of insecurity, that little nagging feeling at the back of his brain telling him that even though he’s happy where he is, happy doing what he does for a living, he could’ve made something different of himself. 

You leave him alone for a while before coming to find him, presumably to let him cool off. He feels awful about what he said now. Honestly, he hadn't even meant to say it out loud, doesn’t know why he said it. It’s not like he meant it. 

A knock from the doorway of the bedroom draws him out of his guilty thoughts, and he looks up to see you hovering just behind the threshold. He hates how you look hesitant to approach him. 

You press your lips into a thin line once his gaze meets yours. “Can we talk about what just happened?” 

“It’s nothing. Just forget I said anything.” 

“It’s obvious you’ve been holding onto those thoughts for a while, so no, Lando, it’s not nothing.” 

“I don’t wanna fight,” He mumbles, eyes glued to his fiddling fingers. You seem to notice his sudden quietness because your expression softens as you cross the room to sit next to him. 

“We’re not fighting. You’ve got something on your mind, and I want to know so I can help,” You reply, shifting to face him. He can tell how you're trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “Please let me help.” 

Lando chews on his bottom lip, unsure. You say you want to help, but he's worried that if he tells you what's really going on, you’ll think it's silly. It is silly, really, him feeling insecure because of how smart you are. But if he doesn't tell you, you’ll think he doesn't trust you, and he does trust you. He trusts you with everything. 

Then you say his name again, softer this time, and you’re looking at him like you’ve done something horrible, and he sighs. 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not smart enough to be your boyfriend. You get all excited about your research when you talk about it,” He sighs, shrugging clumsily, “and I want to understand it because I wanna be able to get excited about it with you, but I just don’t get it. And it makes me feel stupid.” 

“I didn’t—Lando, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to, I—” 

He shakes his head forcefully, grabbing both your hands in his. “No, that’s not what I meant. You never make me feel stupid. It’s my problem, really. I just…I’m not really known for my brains, yeah? Came to terms with that a while ago.” 

“You’re smart, Lan,” You insist, brows pinching in the middle. “You’re so smart, what’re you even talking about?” 

“We talking about the same person here? I never even finished school. Wasn’t too good at it before I left either.”

“There’s more than one way to be smart, y’know,” You continue. Lando tilts his head curiously, not unlike a puppy would. “You’ve got amazing people skills, you’re creative beyond anything I could’ve dreamed up, you’re well balanced with your emotions. Not to mention the amount of skill and strength it takes to do what you do everyday, at the level you perform at.” 

“No, but that’s different. I could never do what you do, remember all the stuff that you’ve had to.”

“And you think I could do what you do?” You ask, giving a disbelieving chuckle. “Genuinely, if I got put into the cockpit of your car, I wouldn’t even be able to start the bloody thing, let alone drive it the way you can when you’re being bombarded with information from all sides during a race. If you put me in front of a group of reporters, if I had to do even a fraction of the press appearances and sponsorship events you do, I’d probably shit my pants.”

Lando wrinkles his nose in slight disgust. “That’s nasty.” 

“It’s true though! I can’t do half the things you can, but that doesn’t make me any less smart. It just means we’re smart in different ways. So what you never finished school? School isn’t the only way to measure how intelligent you are. And Lando, you’re beyond intelligent.” 

His shoulders sag with the long sigh he releases, and he lists to the side, slumping over onto your lap. “Sorry for lashing out,” He murmurs, cheek pressed against your knee. He rolls over onto his back, gazing up at you with truly apologetic eyes. “I didn’t mean what I said, I was just being a dick.” 

You hum noncommittally, stroking a hand through his curls. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Lando, it’s alright.” 

“Yeah, but what I said was just mean, and I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t deserve to be snapped at like that.” 

“Makes up for all the times I’ve snapped at you during exams, so…call it even?” You ask, leaning over him with a soft smile. 

“We’re even.” He lifts his head, craning to reach your lips, and you chuckle a little bit, but meet him halfway in a gentle kiss. 

It’s an I’m sorry kiss, a I forgive you kiss, a I’ll always support you kiss.

A no matter what you say, I’ll love you forever kiss.

This fact, Lando knows for sure, even though a little bit of him still thinks he’s not quite as smart as you.

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[bamsara]

If given the motivation I would ramble more about Trod, specifically Tyren and how he's my little dude but also a character who's behavior I've based on being a victim of obsession and idolization myself and how it's very cathartic to write a character exhibiting all the traits, both good and bad I've experienced in the Lamb's position and then knowing exactly how his story ends

That and some Narinder rambles and how Lamb is more comfortable with him than a sweet dog that surely shows more respect for them (idolization that does not see them as a person)

edit: nevermind I did end up rambling. Some TROD spoilers

its great I love this stupid dog and his scheming ways and writing just *why* he's doing what he's doing with genuine belief it's to better protect what and who he loves without actaully taking into account the subject of his affection's feelings on the whole matter. He would never hurt the lamb physically but clearly that three eyed cat is nothing but stress for them (and is he wrong? is Narinder not a source of stress? We are not light in the 'enemies' part of the friends to enemies to friends to lovers part of the trope)

Though the difference between Narinder and Tyren, the rehabilitation and the corruption, although all entitlement, is agency.

Narinder often touts himself as uncaring and hostile to the Lamb and is still angry from the betrayal, as they are, but their agency is still considered even in anger.

In the Fox chapter where Narinder wishes to sacrifice Grekimar and Tyren, Lamb refuses. They argue about it and Lamb stands their ground, Narinder is unhappy about it but does not go behind their back and sacrifice cultists anyway when he very well could.

After reuniting after the fight when Leshy is revived, Narinder and Lamb argues heavily over the subject of whether or not Narinder is allowed to kill Leshy, someone who harmed both him AND the Lamb severely, and even though he's bitter about it, Narinder acknowledges the Lamb was not given a choice prior and will sacrifice his own revenge and comfort so the Lamb can have their agency returned, at least a little bit.

^^^ This one is a complicated one because between both characters, neither killing the bishops nor keeping them alive would result in both characters getting what they want, with reasonable desires for it (wanting to have choice again, wanting revenge on their tormentors, ect)

so Narinder essentially sacrifices his comfort for the Lamb, someone who is constantly sacrificing pieces of themselves and sanity to keep everything in peace

It works the otherway around as well: Narinder demanding talismans and God Tears and Relics from the Lamb and they agree, not because they're required to do what he says but because that's their friend, and they trust him enough to help him with whatever he's doing

(and back to the argument where the refusal to sacrifice two followers was in exchange for some of their heart, Narinder refuses and breaks the deal off immediatly even though the Lamb was willing. The Lamb is obviously more important than whatever goal he had in mind, essentially scrapping his partnership with the Fox and method to gain power because he didn't want his usurper to be weakened. and other things.)

I won't talk about EVERY instance of this because this is already a long post, but overtime the two are forming communication, compromise, and even in anger, there is a respect there that puts them on the same level as equals.

Tyren does not really fall into that.

Tyren would never, and I mean NEVER hurt the Lamb physically. He would never yell at them, never be angry with them, never be upset with them, because he does not see them enough as a person to feel those things around them. And if the Lamb does disagree with him or make him upset, he will simply....disregard their current feelings on the situation and do what he thinks is best for him and them, even if it goes directly against their wishes.

And unlike Narinder, he would do it behind their back to stay in their good graces.

Tyren does care for the Lamb. Genuinely. He did long before that necklace was around his neck. He was already a little obsessed before the loyalty necklace was on him, it just gave him a slight edge.

He respects them but also doesn't. He takes their rejection at the party in stride and is completely unphased by it, completely understanding, but also plots to kill someone the Lamb called a 'friend' because the three-eyed hermit is clearly stressing them out and it makes no sense as to why they're crusading with him, or spending time with him when he's been nothing but a murderer and a blight.

I think a good summary of all this ramble is that when the Lamb tells Narinder to leave Tyren alone, Narinder goes 'whatever i fucking hate you and this stupid cult anyways. die forever' but does what they ask, while Lamb tells Tyren to please leave Narinder alone, and Tyren goes 'sure! :) anything for you my lamb' and digs up a corpse and drops it's mashed remains outside of the cat's hut with a fake letter from the Lamb saying it's 'breakfast'.

Narinder and Tyren are both very selfish, but in different ways

None of this probably makes sense

It is also 6AM

[blackbirdie1234]

Hey!! I love your fic's so much!

Can I request a Jacob x Fem!reader where they are friends but reader has a crush on Jacob. When he shifts he leaves and does what he did to Bella like ignoring her and Billy won't answer the door.

Mutual pinning but neither knows. He imprints on reader.

Thank you so much keep up the great writing :)

Also, I was wondering if you are going to be doing the vampires as well?

Hi!, Thank you so much for the request! I appreciate the kind words <3

I will be doing fanfics for the vampires as well! As of right now I only have the wolves, but I am planning on making a master list for the vamps and Bella. If you want to make a request for them I can definitely do that! I am planning on making a fic for Jasper soon!

A/N: Not proofread! I aged Jacob up a bit, you both are seventeen here. I didn't know exactly how to end this but I think I might do a spin-off series off of this fic so if you are interested in that let me know. Also, sorry for the late posting I am currently sick and going through it lmao. Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: Jacob being an ass, cursing, angst, Y/N with a backbone.

Wolf’s Out Of The Bag

Jacob Black x Fem!reader

You were staring blankly down at your phone. Ten phone calls, ten phone calls sent to voicemail. Ten desperate, pleading voicemails. No callback, no text, nothing received. You snapped your phone closed and threw it down on the bed.

It had been two weeks since Jacob stormed off from your house after getting into a small disagreement, at least it started off that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~"It's nothing you need to worry about, Jacob," You grumbled with a slight roll of your eyes. Hoping he would drop the subject.

He was giving you an irritated look. You lightly pushed him with your shoulder giving him a small smile.

"I didn't think you'd care that much, it was one date and it's never happening again," you noted with a light-hearted laugh to ease the tension.

He turned to face you, irritation turning to anger. You could actually feel the heat radiating off of his body next to yours.

"Wow you must be really dumb, I mean how could you even think about going on a date with that pig. He's not good enough for you, but then again if you were desperate enough to give him a chance maybe I'm wrong" He barked getting more bitter with each word.

You look at him in shock.

"Why would you say that to me" You said not believing what you were hearing. "It's really none of your business who I go out with, you aren't my bodyguard, you don't have to 'protect' me. When did you get the right to decide who is 'good enough' for me? Huh? You're being a dick and I don't know why but it better change right now." You say sternly. He has never acted like this before and this sudden behavior change is not sitting well with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob left shortly after that. He had gotten so angry he was shaking, you can't even remember the words that were thrown after that. Now, he wasn't answering the phone. Billy said he came down with mono, you didn't know how much you believed it but decided to trust that Billy wouldn't lie to you.

Jacob was your best friend, you loved him a lot. You had never had such an intense fight, you never thought he would react the way he did. You only went on the stupid date to get Jacob out of your head, you thought that maybe you would get over Jacob if you found someone else to pay attention to. You were wrong, no one made you feel the way that Jacob did. Jacob made you feel at home, you couldn't explain why but it was like he was the person you were meant to be with. He was the one who understood you fully and would never judge you for anything you said or did. Until now......

You were deeply hurt by what Jacob said to you, and if he thought that you would get over it he was surely mistaken. He had never said anything more hurtful to you in your entire friendship. You had thought about just letting it go, letting life run its course even if it meant Jacob being out of your life, but you couldn't just sit and let him speak to you that way. You wanted answers. Sitting in your room waiting for him to call and explain was becoming too stressful. You sat there for hours overthinking and no matter what you were doing you were replaying the moment in your mind.

You must be going crazy. At least that's what you were trying to convince yourself after seeing Jacob cliff-jumping with Sam Uley and his gang. You had decided that you would go to La Push, and relax your body and mind on one of the only partly cloudy days in Forks. The skies were pretty clear but there was a storm coming soon, so you decided to do it now. Never in your life did you think you would see what you were seeing now. Are you fucking serious? was all you could think as you drove your car straight to Billy Black's house. You wanted to make sure it was really Jacob, so you went to the man who had told you how 'serious' his condition was in the first place.

As you pulled into the driveway the clouds began covering the sky in a dark grey mass. You hopped out of the car and began walking to the front door, Billy had opened the door as soon as you stepped onto the wood. His face had a mix of concern and confusion as he noticed your agitated expression and the way your chest was slightly heaving from anger.

"Where is he" you say with a grumble.

"He's not here, he went out," He says seriously but looking down a bit not wanting to make eye contact. Billy didn't like lying to you and to your face it was even worse.

Just as you were about to speak you looked to the side and saw that far away down the hill, Jacob stood playfully nudging another man as a few more came out of the woods.

"Don't Y/N" Billy said in warning.

You started stomping down the hill, ignoring Billy's yells. Billy calling your name caught the attention of Jacob, as his face shifted from laughing to completely still. You continued to walk towards Jacob as the rain started, it quickly went from a drizzle to full pouring as you finally reached him.

To say you were fuming would be an understatement.

"What the actual fuck Jacob!" you say basically screaming at the shirtless man, who was now staring directly into your eyes with what looked like pure amazement but you ignored it the best you could, whatever love for him you felt in that moment may have been strong but you were too angry to care so you continued.

"So we have one fight and you ignore me for two weeks?! I called you ten times, ten times Jacob. You couldn't bother picking up the phone at least once, you could've told me you didn't want to be friends but no! You had your daddy lie to me" You say with an angry laugh.

"I thought you were sick Jacob! Too sick to pick up the damn phone and text me! Come to find out you were just having too much fun cliff jumping with the guys we used to make fun of! You know what you can have them, If you want to throw away seventeen years of friendship then be my guest." You say finally taking a breath.

The weight off of your chest feels amazing, but as you finish Jacob falls to his knees. The boys behind him look between you two with pure shock on their faces before they start laughing and smiling. You look up at them shocked and confused thinking they were making fun of you. They start walking away but not before patting Jake on the back. Sam leans down and whispers something to him as he sits there still on his knees staring at you.

"Do you even care about a word I just said to you? You know what never mind if you think this is a joke I might as well leave," You say turning around and starting to walk away.

Jacob suddenly found his voice as he quickly got to his feet and stumbled trying to reach you.

"WAIT! Wait, wait, Y/N please hold on!" He spoke hurriedly. Grasping for your hand and pulling you around. Hand now resting on your waist.

"I am so, so sorry. Please let me explain everything, I promise I won't lie to you anymore. I can explain everything now, just come inside and dry off." He said pleadingly, trying his best to get you to listen to him.

You thought for a moment, you didn't trust him at all but the way he was speaking you knew he was telling the truth to some extent. It was hard for him to lie to you, you know how Jacob works, you know the subtle mannerisms he has when he's not telling the truth. Considering all of this you finally speak.

"Fine, but if things don't add up or I find out you are still lying, I am gone," You say sternly, pulling his hands away from you and walking up the hill.

When you get to the house, Jacob gives you warm tea and a blanket which you take from him without a word. He comes over and sits across from you. He almost reaches for your hand but stops himself.

"The day that I left your house, something changed, I changed...." He claimed, looking at your reaction with a hint of fear but continued "This is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me on this..... I am a werewolf"

You stared at him for a moment before throwing the blanket off and standing up, Jacob followed suit immediately. You threw him a glare before starting to walk out.

"No, No, Y/N wait!" he shouted after you, reaching out and grabbing your hand. "I am telling the truth let me show you" He spoke as he continued outside your hand still in his.

" I swear Jacob if this is a pra....."

You went dead silent as he began taking his boots, and then his shorts off. Now standing in just his underwear. He gave you a curt nod and then started bending and shaking profusely. You could barely blink before your best friend stood in front of you only he wasn't human anymore, he was a massive wolf.

You jumped back a bit as the wolf started coming towards you, noticing your fear he slowly laid down on the ground and gave out a small whine to signal he would not hurt you. You were in complete shock, how was this possible? Everything you ever heard about the stories of the Quileute tribe growing up was true, and your best friend was living proof. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, but they were silenced by the wolf standing up and trotting to the back of the house. Jacob then emerged in different clothes than before.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't tell you Y/N" Jacob expressed, grabbing your hands hesitantly until you leaned into the touch slightly.

"Why couldn't you tell me, you know I would never judge you, nor would I ever tell anyone " You pressed before giving him a confused stare "Wait why are you telling me now?"

He looked at you a gave you a crooked smile.

"It's one of the rules that came with the gig" He laughs a bit before pulling you a bit closer. "The reason I can tell you now is because you are my soulmate," He says beaming down at you.

You stare up at him with a bewildered expression.

"I'm your what?" you say breathing out.

"You are my imprint, Y/N. It's a wolf's soulmate, it is the reason for their existence, you feel like it isn't gravity holding you to the ground anymore, it's them. You can be anything the imprint wants you to be, a friend, a protector, a lover, all that matters is that the two are connected. Like vines on trees overlapping each other both on the same path, interlocked." He pauses, putting his hand on your face and caressing your cheek gently.

"I know this might be overwhelming and a lot to handle. I really want you to know how deeply sorry I am for everything that I said. I'm not going to sit here and blame it all on the wolf because it wasn't, I was jealous. I was jealous that you went on that date with someone that wasn't me and I didn't mean a word that I said about you. I'm going to be fully honest with you from now on, starting with the fact that I have been in love with you since the second grade. I know that trusting me will take time, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to earn it back. I understand that I have hurt you, so it might take a very long time but I will always be there for you. Everything is up to you, I understand if you want to reject the connection. The connection can be anything you want it to be, but I really truly do not want to lose you and the past two weeks without you have been hell on earth for me. I'm just really sorry Y/N." He pleads letting go of your hands and allowing you to process.

"I... I love you too Jacob. I have for a while now. I'm not going to forgive you easily but I am glad you understand how much you have hurt me. I am willing to give this a shot, mainly because I can feel the connection and would be an idiot if I said that I didn't." You laugh a bit as he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face.

"But if you ever say or do that to me again I will put you in a dog house and leave you there," You say with an evil smile laughing at the way his face drops before he joins in.

You two get out of the rain and drive separately to Emily's house where you meet the pack and they explain in much more detail what being a wolf really entails. You and Emily become quick friends, and as the days go on you slowly fall into a routine that is pure chaos but you wouldn't have it any other way. You and Jacob work on your relationship, slowly building back trust and falling deeper and deeper into love with each other. You have fully accepted your place in a world filled with wolves and life seems to be going great, that is until they tell you exactly why they turn into the big ferocious beasts....... there are vampires in Forks.

[janiehellion]

Wildflower Woes

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon hates you. Or does he? And do you only love the flowers that grow in your own garden, or do you love the wild ones too? Because with eyes watching in the darkness of the night, nothing is ever quite as it seems.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: S1!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HURT / ANGST / VOYEURISM / MASTURBATION / EXHIBITIONISM / DUB-CON / LANGUAGE / CUM PLAY / SEMI-PUBLIC

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.000

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: NON-CON ELEMENTS

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

As you walked behind Daryl, your eyes drifted from the road ahead to the ground beside your feet, where something caught your eye and distracted you rather fast from everything else around you—a bunch of wildflowers that had bloomed along the side of the road. They were not only the kind you’ve always loved, but they were also a small reminder of what life really was like not so long ago.

Without a second thought, you decided to step off the path, with your fingers reaching out instinctively to touch the nearest blossom in silent admiration.

"They’re still so beautiful, despite everything," you whispered quietly to yourself, not wanting Daryl to hear what you were saying. "I remember how I always thought these were just pretty-looking weeds as a kid because Mom and Dad always had them everywhere in our garden. God, I miss them so much."

Kneeling down beside the flowers, you allowed yourself a quiet moment of peace, thinking back to a few weeks ago when everything was still normal. To those weekends gardening with your mom while your dad cut the lawn or filmed you and your mother to capture memories for the future. The time when your parents were still alive.

But that short moment of peace was quickly shattered by an all-too-familiar sound that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver through your body. Spinning around, your eyes locked on the rotting figure of a walker emerging from behind a tree, and panic flooded your mind.

"Shit!" You screamed, stumbling backward and falling hard onto the ground, and in your desperate attempt to avoid being bitten, you reached for your weapon, only to realize the handle was tangled with the strap of your backpack. Despair washed over you as the walker got closer, its hands reaching out to dig its fingers into your flesh.

Just then, Daryl heard your scream. He spun around, his crossbow aimed at the walker, and in the blink of an eye, the creature dropped dead at your feet with a bolt in its head.

"What in the hell were ya doin'?" Daryl shouted, his face full of anger as he rushed over.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled to your feet, your voice trembling. "I… I just noticed the flowers! I’ve always liked flowers and these—"

"Flowers? Ya nearly got yerself killed over some damn flowers?" His eyes narrowed in frustration.

Daryl’s voice was bitter, full of anger, as he grabbed your arm and pulled you roughly back onto the road. Before you could react, he stomped his boot into the patch of flowers, grinding them into the dirt in front of your eyes.

"Can't believe ya'd risk yer life for this bullshit!" He said, as he pulled his bolt out of the walker and walked back to you again.

His grip on your arm tightened, and he yanked you forward. "Look at ya," he growled, full of disgust. "Ya think this is some kinda shitty garden party? We're fightin' to survive, and yer out here actin' like a pussy over a bunch of fuckin' flowers! ‘S that what's gonna save us? A fuckin' bouquet?"

His words made you flinch, and you were unable to hold back the tears that had already formed in your eyes. When you looked back up, Daryl's face was only inches from yours.

"Oh, look at ya, so delicate and pure!" He taunted with disdain. "Yeah… Ya gonna stop this shitshow with a bouquet, huh? Gonna wave 'em around and make all the walkers bow down to yer flowery grace? What’s next, princess? A fuckin’ garden gnome to guard the damn camp?"

You tried to steady your voice, fighting back your sobs. "Listen, Daryl… Thank you for saving me, really! But I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble! I just... I just wanted a moment of beauty that reminded me of—"

"A moment of beauty? Ya think yer gonna find some happy endin' in the middle of all this shit? It's like yer livin' in a fuckin' fantasy! Newsflash: This ain’t a damn fairy tale!" Daryl cut you off with a mocking laugh.

He stepped closer, invading your personal space. "Oh, I see. Ya got this big-ass plan, don't ya? Ya gonna sprinkle some petals ‘round and charm all the dead assholes with yer pretty flowers, huh? Hell, why not add a unicorn that shits glitter while yer at it?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but his insults didn't even give you a chance. "Oh, wait, I got it! Ya gonna build a fairyland where everything is perfect and we all live happily ever after! Ya gonna knit a quilt with flowers on it, and everyone will forget 'bout the damn world fallin' apart! That’s yer big-ass plan, ain't it?"

Listening to him, you struggled more and more to hold back your sobs, but you finally found the confidence to respond. "That's not true! And I didn’t say that. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Daryl interrupted again, his voice almost yelling in anger. "Ya think that’s gonna change anything? Get real! Out here, ya don't get to have yer shitty moments of peace. Ya either get yer head outta yer ass or ya die!"

He shook his head, scoffing at you. "Tell me! What’s next, huh? Ya gonna start singin' lullabies to the walkers? Maybe ya should bake ‘em some cookies and ask ‘em to join the damn camp," he spat out, finally turning away and leaving you standing in the middle of the road, knowing that you’d follow him one way or another.

And you did.

Aside from Daryl's few mutterings of frustration, the walk back to the camp was quiet. He didn’t offer you an apology, nor did he ask why you seemed so fascinated by those wildflowers in the first place. Instead, he simply continued to walk ahead, throwing you angry sidelong glances from time to time, while his annoyed curses and angry mumblings barely reached your ears anymore.

You allowed the minutes to pass, and just as you were beginning to accept being his supply run partner a little bit more, Daryl's voice was heard again. "Quit yer damn whinin'! Pretty flowers ain't gonna keep ya alive!" he said, his anger not yet gone. "All this fuckin' bullshit just makes ya look weak! Ain't nobody got time for that. Ya gotta get that into yer head!"

He looked ahead, and with a sudden, quick move, he lifted his boot and stomped down on another few wildflowers growing along the side of the road. Your jaw dropped in disbelief, and your eyes widened in shock and hurt. The purpose behind it—to obviously hurt you—only made you clench your fists tighter, your nails digging into your palms.

But you stayed silent; the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to bully you and to fuel his anger. Instead, you focused on keeping your breathing steady, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you continued to follow behind him.

As you both finally approached the quarry, Daryl’s anger reached its breaking point, and in a rather sudden decision, he stormed off the path, disappearing into the woods without another word and taking the rest of the supplies with him.

"Yeah, yeah, run away, you fucking dickhead," you whispered to yourself before putting the backpack down next to the RV. "What a damn idiot! Just because he’s got a stick up his ass doesn’t mean he is allowed to shit on everything that others care about. He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s just an asshole who’s always acting like he’s the only one who matters around here! And here I was, thinking I might actually like him and have a soft spot for him. Guess I was just kidding myself. What a fucking joke!" You continued and let the sadness come out quietly as you were left standing alone.

"Can’t believe he thinks this is some kind of, I don't know, redneck survival training. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m so tough! I’ll just destroy whatever makes you happy!’ Well, newsflash to you too, Dixon: You’re not the only one who’s capable of surviving! Jesus…"

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching stopped your rant, and you turned to see Dale walking towards you with a look of concern. "Hey there," he said with a smile, taking the backpack into his hands. "You look like you’ve had a rough time out there today. Is everything okay? Where’s Daryl Dixon?"

You hesitated for a moment, the situation that has happened before making it hard for you to find the right words. Finally, you sighed and responded.

"I couldn’t give less of a fuck where that man is right now! I mean, listen, Daryl’s been—well, he’s been a jerk, like always. He got mad about a few pretty flowers that I found. You know, the wild ones that I showed you the other day when you were talking with Shane? Well, Daryl ended up stomping all over them because he had to save me from a walker, since the flowers distracted me and nearly got me killed. And now he’s just gone off into the woods without a word. He even took the rest of the supplies we’ve found with him. Can you believe that, Dale?"

"Oh, yes, I do remember the flowers; very nice to look at. My wife would’ve loved them as well, believe me," Dale’s eyes studied you as he listened to you, trying to understand what had happened, "but I’m sorry to hear about what has happened. Sure, Daryl’s got a lot of—let’s call it rough and tough edges. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon with the supplies; don’t you worry about that."

His words and warm smile helped to calm you down a little. "Yeah, I guess you’re right," you sighed, feeling a little better. "Thanks, Dale. I just needed to let off some steam. And maybe Daryl's right, some of those flowers weren’t meant to survive this cruel world…"

Dale nodded once more but looked slightly concerned because of your answer, though he decided not to address it, nor did he press any further. "Anytime. Now, let’s get these supplies sorted. I bet that Daryl will calm down soon enough as well."

You couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "Yeah, maybe. And pigs might fly too."

Soon enough, you were busy sorting the supplies when you heard footsteps approaching again. This time, it was Daryl who did come back from the woods, but his face showed that he was still annoyed.

"Here," he snapped, tossing his bag of supplies onto the ground. "Forgot to leave 'em here. Don’t expect any flowers or fairy dust."

You looked up from the supplies, sighing loudly. "Yeah, thanks," you answered quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I guess it’s good you’re back. The camp needs those supplies."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Ya know, if ya spent less time daydreamin' and more time focusin' on what’s important, then we wouldn’t have to deal with this shit."

"Is that so?" You shot back, struggling to stay calm. "And what exactly is ‘important’ to you, Daryl? Destroying everything that reminds people of normalcy?"

He snorted at you. "Normalcy? Ain’t no such thing in this world no more. If ya can’t handle that, maybe ya should stay behind."

His words hurt, but you forced yourself not to fuel his anger. "Well, maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on destroying everything that might still matter to others, you’d see that sometimes people need a bit of hope, however small."

Daryl stared you down. "Hope? Hope won’t keep ya alive. Only havin' a pair of balls and havin’ a clear head will do that. And from where I stand, ya got none of that."

"I guess we’ve all got our own way of coping with this new world," you said quietly, not really knowing what to answer him anymore. 

His eyes studied you. "Copin'? Ya think I’m just ‘copin'’ here? I’m tryna keep us alive, and all ya do is mess 'round with flowers like it’s some kind of goddamn gardenin' hobby."

You took a deep breath. "I’m just trying to hold on to a bit of what makes me human. I know it might seem pointless to you at the moment, but those flowers... they remind me of something good, something that I miss."

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, good for ya. Maybe ya can save the world with yer damn flowers, while the rest of us are riskin' our asses."

Before you could respond, Andrea approached you, having overheard the conversation. "Hey, is everything alright?" She asked, her eyes looking from you to Daryl.

"Just a little disagreement," you answered, forcing a smile. "Nothing we can’t handle."

Daryl took a step back and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’m done wastin' my time here. Gonna get some rest."

As he walked away, Andrea rolled her eyes and turned to you with a smile. "Don’t let him get to you. He's an asshole. But you’re doing the right thing by holding on to what makes you feel human. You’ll get used to him eventually."

Later that evening, as the campfire was burning down slowly and the rest of the group went to go to sleep after their meal, you sat quietly on the side, lost in your thoughts. Daryl had withdrawn from the group, sitting alone by a tree as he stared into the flames from afar. Eventually, you stood up and walked off to your tent, but the next morning, a flower appeared by the entrance, carefully placed where it was visible but not too obvious.

"Is he for real?" You said to yourself, not really sure why he'd even continue to make fun of you like this in the first place.

While you were helping with camp chores a short time later, you spotted Jacqui kneeling by the water, washing the clothes. Taking the chance to get some answers, you approached her.

"Hey, Jacqui," you began, trying to sound neutral. "I found this wildflower in front of my tent. Any idea who might be leaving them? I don't know if Andrea told you, but I had a problem with Daryl yesterday, and I thought he left the flower there just to keep on making fun of me."

"Of course Andrea told me, how come you think she wouldn’t? You can’t keep secrets around here!" Jacqui looked up, laughing out loud. "But come on, are you for real? You think it was Daryl Dixon? Really? Come on, that's too funny."

You blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Wait, you think it’s funny that I’m even considering Daryl after him acting like a total dickhead? I just thought—"

Jacqui laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. Daryl? Why should he continue to make fun of you like that? I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a beer can at your head, or leave a skinned squirrel in front of your tent or even under your pillow, but flowers? You're overthinking things. Honestly, I'd bet it's Shane."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Shane? Seriously? That’s what you think? But Daryl literally bullied me because of them."

Jacqui stood up, stretching her arms. "So, what? I’m just saying that sometimes it’s better not to overthink things, especially when it comes to the Dixon brothers. There's nothing that'd benefit him in mocking you any further. Anyway, I’ve got clothes to get back to." With that, Jacqui wandered off, leaving you confused and a bit embarrassed.

"Hey! It’s not like I expect him to start a flower shop anytime soon, okay? It’s just super weird!" You shouted after her, shaking your head slightly, before you caught sight of Daryl from a distance, kneeling over his crossbow. The sight of him—mumbling to himself and clearly busy with whatever he was doing—irritated you, and you decided it was time to confront him directly.

"Daryl, can we talk for a second?" You finally asked and approached him hesitantly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Whaddaya want, woman?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frustration you felt about him still being angry with you. "I found this flower this morning. Right by my tent."

"Yeah? And what’s that gotta do with me?" Daryl’s eyes narrowed, his tone defensive.

"I just thought that maybe you’d know something about it. I mean, I didn’t think it was a coincidence, since the flower is like the same from—" You started, but he didn't let you finish.

"Hell, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout those damn flowers. Ya think I’m runnin’ ‘round playin’ flower fairy for ya now or what? It wasn't me. Keep dreamin'," Daryl cut you off, his jaw tightening. 

His voice was harsh, his tone dismissive. "Just stop pissin’ me off; yer just lookin’ too much into shit. It’s just flowers. Quit tryna make somethin’ outta nothin’."

Your frustration was growing, and you took a step closer. "I’m just trying to understand. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to understand something. Look, it doesn’t make sense for this flower to just—"

Before you could finish, Daryl cut you off again. "Hell, just drop it! Got enough problems without ya comin’ at me with this bullshit. Ain’t in the mood for yer crap no more."

Just then, Shane appeared with a wide smile on his face. "Hey there," he said, leaning against a nearby tree. "I couldn’t help but notice you looking a bit stressed. You up for some fishing? Could use some company, if you’re interested, that is."

You glanced between Shane’s big smile and Daryl’s scowling face, and with a small nod, you agreed. "Yeah, that actually sounds nice. I could definitely use a break right now. And it’d be nice to eat some fish every now and then."

Shane’s smile widened. "Perfect! We’ll have a great time, I’m sure of it; even if we don’t catch anything, it’ll still be fun. I’ll go get everything ready and come back to get you when I’m done."

"Why don’t ya both just try to drown while fishin’ then? I’m sure ya’d both do a great job at it," Daryl suddenly mumbled, turning back to his bag.

"Excuse me? What was that? What did you just say?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm, but your confusion was obvious as you watched Shane walk away. "And what the hell are you even doing there in the first place, Daryl?"

"None of yer damn business," he snapped back at you with annoyance. "Maybe ya should spend less time bein’ a pain in the ass and more time doin’ somethin’ useful. Like catchin’ more than just one damn pitiful fish with that Romeo ya got over there."

You shook your head, feeling your frustration boil over. "You think you’re the only one who cares about survival? We’re all trying to get by, Daryl. But as a team! Together, as a group of survivors! And you? You’re just being an asshole."

Daryl’s gaze hardened. "Oh, that so? And what’s yer excuse for bein’ a pathetic, whiny mess? Thinkin’ yer entitled to shit? Get over yerself."

Before you could respond, Shane reappeared with some of the fishing gear. He then noticed Daryl’s bag next to his crossbow and raised an eyebrow. "Thistles? What the hell are you gonna do with thistles, Dixon? Prick us to death?"

"Guess we’ll be havin’ a fancy-ass thistle salad for dinner. Real gourmet shit," Daryl answered sarcastically. "Ya can eat parts of 'em, if ya so keen on knowin', but I bet ya knew that already, ain’t that so officer fancy-pants?"

Shane’s face turned serious as he glanced between you and Daryl. "Dixon, you got a problem with something? ‘Cause you’re acting like a real jackass for no goddamn reason at all!"

Daryl turned back to his bag. "Nah, just tired of watchin’ ya’ll pretend to be so high and mighty. Don’t need no charity fishin’ trip from ya, Shane."

Shane’s jaw clenched slightly, but he tried to sound calm. "Funny, Daryl, really funny. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before you start a fight you can’t win."

Daryl’s expression grew darker. "Ain’t here to be ya damn buddy, Walsh. Got my own shit to deal with, so why don’t ya just keep yer damn opinions to yerself?"

"Alright, alright. You do you, Dixon," Shane answered, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile as he looked at you again. "Come on, let's go fishing then; I’ll ask Jim to be on the lookout in the meantime."

You watched Shane walk away, then turned back to Daryl, who was now looking at the thistles in his bag.

"Great, really great. That went well," you sighed, shaking your head, but Daryl didn’t respond and instead continued to fumble with the thistles. You soon walked away, joining Shane by the water. 

"Let’s get this set up," he said, handing you a fishing rod. "We might as well make the best of it."

As the time went by, the conversation drifted to other topics. Shane talked about his past life, even sharing police stories that made you smile despite yourself.

"Thanks for this," you soon said. "It’s nice to get away from the group a little, even if it isn’t far, and just... be."

Shane nodded, focusing on his line. "Yeah, I figured you could use a break. Daryl’s got a way of being a pain in the ass."

"I guess that’s one way to put it," you laughed back. “But he isn’t the only one around who isn’t very great to get along with. The real pain in the ass around here is Ed, and that’s a fact.”

“Ed, yeah, don’t remind me. But you do realize that talking about Ed would be a pain in the ass just as much, don’t you think?” He smirked, casting his line again. "But speaking of Dixon, you know, it’s actually funny. Because I’ve seen that asshole sneaking around your tent more than once. Creepy as hell if you ask me."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait... What are you talking about? What do you mean? Daryl Dixon? What? When?"

Shane shrugged casually. "Well, I’ve already seen him lurking around your tent when you first got here weeks ago, like he’s some kind of damn stalker. Even seen him hide behind some of the cars at night. Also quite funny, because Jim was the one who caught him near the RV first, since he’s more or less the mechanic around here. Did you know that being an auto mechanic was Jim’s job? Who would’ve guessed?"

You frowned at him, processing this new information. "Shane, could you please stop trying to change the damn topic for a moment? This isn’t about Jim right now! Just tell me if you’re serious about Daryl sneaking around my tent!"

"Relax, relax! But yeah," Shane laughed and shook his head. "I mean, Daryl’s always been a bit of a freak, but that... that was something else. Fucking creep."

You bit your lip, feeling confused. "I don’t know, Shane. I mean, sure, he’s rough around the edges, like Dale pointed out before too, but..."

"But? But what?" Shane asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitated, then sighed. "It’s a little stupid, okay? But when I first got here, I kind of had a fleeting thing for him. But not for long; I mean, I didn’t know anybody around here; you were all just strangers, so of course I didn’t know what he’s actually like."

Shane’s face quickly showed disbelief and a bit of anger. "You’re shitting me, right? That piece of shit who literally told us to drown? You had a crush on him?"

You shook your head, feeling quite embarrassed. "No, listen, it wasn’t exactly a crush! Please, don't call it a crush, okay? I simply thought there was more to him, you know? Maybe under all that anger, there’s someone who… cares."

Shane shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you could see his muscles twitch while he was gritting his teeth. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That hillbilly dipshit? He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, just like his brother Merle. And now he’s got you thinking he’s some kind of misunderstood hero? That piece of shit couldn’t even fit into the anti-hero category if he wanted to! I already told Lori and Carol to keep Carl and Sophia away from him and his brother! Because they’re both a bad influence!"

"It’s not like that, Shane! I know he’s very difficult, but..." You started, but he cut you off once more.

"But nothing!" Shane snapped. "God, you sound just like Dale! Please now, just listen to me. You deserve better than that. Someone who actually gives a damn about you. Not some freaking weirdo who creeps around your tent at night. I know that I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry. But you think Daryl’s going to change just because Merle’s probably dead? Nah. He’s just going to keep treating you and all of us like shit. But I’m here, and I actually care about you and the rest of us. And I did care right from the start."

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by his words. "Shane, please, this really is turning into an awkward conversation right now. I just need some time to think and not a motivational coach with a shotgun and a fishing rod."

"Fine. But just remember what I said. Daryl’s not the guy you think he is." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "And you know what? The two of you are a perfect pair of fuckin’ clichés. The tough redneck guy and the naive dreamer princess. It’s pathetic."

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue the conversation. "Okay, okay, I got it! Stop! I meant to ask you a different question anyway! About a flower I found by my tent. Did you leave it there for me?"

Shane shook his head. "Me? Leaving you a flower? No. Don’t have time for that. I have to keep this group safe, after all."

You sighed, feeling a bit of relief. "I know, I know, it's just that... Jacqui thought it might've been you. Guess she was wrong."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to talk any further. "Yeah, well, let’s just finish up here and head back."

A short time later, you and Shane packed up your gear and headed back to the camp, where the rest of the group, apart from Daryl, was already sitting around the campfire and talking. about the usual things, all the while you couldn’t stop thinking about what Shane had told you as you stared into the fire.

And as the night finally fell over the Atlanta camp, Daryl found himself in the shadows and lost in thought. He had withdrawn from the group throughout the rest of the day, thinking about how Shane and your fishing trip had annoyed him and left him feeling more than just pissed.

He moved quietly through the trees, his steps almost making little to no sound while his mind was full of conflicting thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. He was still angry with himself over everything that had happened—his rage towards you, Shane’s arrogant attitude, and his own pushed-away emotions that he couldn't really ignore.

Standing by the edge of your tent, he looked around to make sure he was alone and out of sight before he crouched down, pulling out a small bundle from his pocket—another wildflower, the exact kind that you liked so much.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," he mumbled to himself and snorted. "Here I am, sneakin' 'round like some kind of goddamn lunatic."

He put it gently on the ground, just near the entrance of your tent, where you had to notice it one way or another. His fingers moved along the petals of the flower as if it could somehow help him feel better with his guilt. "Goddamn it, Daryl," he whispered to himself. "Ya really fucked it all up, like ya always do. Stompin' on 'em flowers like a fuckin' idiot. What were ya even thinkin'?"

His eyes narrowed as he remembered how he had responded and how he had used his insults and rage to try to push you away. "Ya didn’t mean it," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Ya were just so pissed off. Shane’s up her ass all day, and ya had to be the one who’s had to do somethin'. Hell, she's gonna think it was him now anyway, with the way he’s been actin' 'round her, that's for damn sure."

He stood up, avoiding stepping on the flower. "But ya know what? It ain’t 'bout him. 'S 'bout yerself, ya fuckin' idiot. Ya can’t just keep watchin' her and expectin' her to see ya for the piece of shit ya really are."

He looked around when he heard a noise, seeing you coming from a distance, and quickly moved to hide behind a nearby tree. His heart was racing in his chest; adrenaline and shame were rushing through his body, but he couldn’t let you see him; he couldn’t let you know that he was here, after all.

Daryl crouched down low, pressing his back against the bark of the tree he was leaning against. "Every damn night," he whispered quietly, "watchin’ her shadow. Shit, she doesn’t know. Fuckin’ hell, if she knew... I’m a goddamn creep. But I can’t stop. I just—I need to see her. Need to know she’s there."

His eyes followed you as you got closer, but he didn’t move. He was observing you and watching to see if you would notice the flower immediately, or if you wouldn’t until the next morning.

"She’s gotta know it’s me," Daryl thought, his mind racing and his body beginning to sweat all of a sudden. "She’s suspicious already. Can’t let her know the real reason why. She’d hate me for it."

His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists tightly. "I’m a fuckin’ idiot. That’s what I am. Tryin’ to make it right with damn flowers, but I’m still the asshole who’s watchin’ her like a damn perv. She’s got no idea," he whispered to himself again. "No fuckin’ clue what’s really goin’ on. Hell, if anyone 'round here knew, they’d run me outta camp. Can’t have that. Don’t want her to know; don’t want anyone to know."

"Why’d ya let things go this far?" He continued to tell himself. "Why’d ya let yerself get so fuckin' close to her? Ya think she’s gonna understand why yer such a fuckin' creep? Fuck, think again."

As you opened your tent, Daryl's eyes were watching you with nervousness. Even though he knew it was wrong, he was unable to accept the fact that he had been watching you most of the time at night, unable to take his eyes off your tent.

"Ain't gonna make excuses," he muttered. "Been an asshole, and I know it. Been watchin' her—sometimes even more than I should. Fuckin' hate myself for it. Every damn time I see her, she reminds me that I’m a damn bastard, and I can’t stand it."

Thoughts of how he had treated you kept coming back again and again to his mind. "I act like I don’t give a shit, but I do. Hell, I care more than I wanna admit. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so goddamn hard on her. Dunno. Maybe I thought it’d keep me from feelin'... this way."

Daryl stayed right where he was, watching you leave your tent open as you eventually got inside. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. "This ain't right. She deserves better than this. Deserves someone who’s not a fuckin' creep. Can’t help it. I keep comin' back here, leavin' these stupid fuckin' flowers, hopin' she might see some part of me that’s not completely fucked up."

He sighed, feeling his thoughts pressing down on him. "Yer a mess, Dixon. And ya know it. Yer leavin' flowers to try to make up for yer own damn behavior, and it ain't ever gonna be enough."

Upon entering your tent, you did notice the flower that was lying by the entrance. In fact, the flower was too familiar, and the thought of Daryl lurking around nearby made you shiver, but you didn’t acknowledge the flower directly. Rather, you purposefully chose to ignore it because Shane's remarks regarding Daryl had made you feel a little uneasy, which you could not quite shake, but it also somehow excited you to no end.

"Alright, let’s make this good, and let’s see if he really is sneaking around here," you then murmured to yourself with a smirk on your lips as you thought about your plan. "I’m gonna give him a show he won’t forget anytime soon."

You began to undress slowly, your fingers sliding over your skin as you glanced at the open gap of the tent, a deliberate choice to keep it ajar.

"Is this what you want, Daryl?" You whispered to yourself as you pulled off your shirt and slid your jeans down. "Do you want to see me like this?"

With every piece of clothing that you let fall to the ground, the blush on your cheeks turned redder. The thought of him possibly watching you from the shadows, all hidden and quiet, made you shiver with excitement and nervousness, because of the other dangers that might be hidden in the shadows. “Don’t think about anything else right now; I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Your fingers fumbled with the hooks of your bra, and you let it fall from your shoulders before you squeezed your breasts with your hands, the feeling of your fingertips brushing over your hardening nipples making you moan. "Look at me," you murmured, "see how I’m touching myself, how I’m getting so fucking wet because of you right now."

Your hand slid down your stomach, your fingers sliding into your panties, with the wetness of your pussy making you gasp as you started to rub your clit in slow circles. "You like this, don’t you? Watching me at night, knowing I’m thinking of you?"

You soon pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, showing yourself off completely before you laid down and spread your legs, giving a full view of your wet pussy. With two fingers, you traced the outer folds before slipping them inside, letting out a quiet moan. "I know you’re out there," you whispered, "watching every fucking move I make."

As you began to fuck yourself slowly, your other hand continued to pinch and tease your nipples. "I can almost feel your eyes on me," you mumbled, "watching as I fuck myself. Is it turning you on, Daryl? I bet you're already so fucking hard."

You added another finger inside, curling them slightly to stretch yourself more and tease your G-spot with each thrust. "I bet you’re dying to feel what this is like," you taunted quietly, "to be so so fucking deep inside me right here, right now."

Your fingers moved faster, your hips moving in time with the thrusts of your fingers, and you were already getting closer to the edge just by thinking about the fact that Daryl was probably watching you. "I bet you’re imagining how fucking tight I’d be around you," you moaned. "I know you’re just as fucking turned on as I am."

Among the trees, Daryl remained hidden in the shadows. His eyes were locked on you, unable to look away even as his heart pounded violently in his chest. The way your fingers moved over your breasts, the playful, almost desperate way you touched your hard nipples—it drove him wild, and the image of you parting your pussy and pushing your fingers into yourself was nearly unbearable. Every little movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbled while his gaze shifted a bit as he attempted to stand up from his position without making a sound. He forced himself to remain motionless, but his hand went almost automatically to his zipper.

The simple sight of you, all naked, completely defenseless, and so vulnerable, was making him lose his mind. He could see how your body tensed and arched with every touch, and his eyes tracked every movement of your fingers as they slid in and out of your pussy.

"Fuck, not again; why’m I doin' this?" Daryl grumbled to himself, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock inside his pants. "This ain’t right. She’s right there, and I’m just—fuck!"

He glanced down at his own body, his cock pushing hard against his pants. It wasn't easy to ignore the pulsing need that was building up inside him—a need that seemed to only grow with every quiet moan you let out. His heart was racing, and he could feel the sweat starting to run down his forehead.

Daryl’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants; he was trying to calm himself down at first, but the sight of you getting yourself off was making it nearly impossible to think straight. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered again, struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Ya can’t just give in. Not yet. Ya gotta keep control."

He watched you spread your legs wider, your fingers moving faster now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from making any noise. His eyes locked onto the way your body responded—how your hips bucked with each thrust of your fingers.

"Look at her. She’s so fuckin' beautiful," Daryl let out quietly. "So damn hot, and here I am, just watchin'. Like some sick fuckin' perv."

With a quiet, frustrated growl, he tried to regain control of himself, his hands clenching more tightly. Even though his cock was begging for attention, he was unable to let himself go.

"Keep it together, Dixon," he told himself, his voice trembling. "Yer not gonna just—give in. Not yet. Not like this. She’s... she’s right there. Goddamn it! Fuck!"

But Daryl's control was breaking fast, each breath that he took only making it harder to keep his impulses in check, and it was pushing him past the point of no return. The temptation was just too great, and he couldn't control himself any longer. His hands, which had been clenched tightly into fists, now finally moved to undo the zipper of his pants.

His cock sprang free, the sight of it being so hard making him shudder, and the moment his hand wrapped around it, he let out a quiet groan.

"Goddamn it," he mumbled, his voice full of frustration and lust as he started to stroke himself slowly. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

He couldn’t help but imagine your hands being on him—almost in the same way that you were touching yourself. He could hear your every moan, every breath, every whimper, and it only made him grip his cock tighter, his strokes becoming faster and more needy.

"I bet ya like that, don’t ya?" He grumbled to himself. "I bet ya fuckin' know I’m here."

It was impossible for him to ignore how badly he wanted to be the one touching you, to be the one making you sigh and moan for him.

"Jesus," he panted out and gasped. "Ya just keep fuckin' doin’ that, don’t ya, princess? Fuckin' hell..."

Struggling to remain silent, his free hand felt for the tree next to him, and he pressed it against the bark to steady himself. Though he was getting close to the edge and the tip of his cock was coated with pre-cum, he was determined not to cum just yet.

"Damn it, Dixon," he hissed at himself. "Look at ya, gettin' off to this all over again. Yer a fuckin' mess. Fuckin' pathetic."

There was still a part of him that wanted to stop, and he battled the shame and guilt that was building up and rising within him. But as your moans grew slightly louder and as you suddenly whispered his name into the darkness, it only pushed him further into his own desperate need.

"Hell’s she sayin'?" Daryl mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus and concentrate on your voice. "Shit, she’s sayin' my fuckin' name..."

The sound of his name on your lips, even if it was only a silent whisper, made his cock twitch and pulse, and his strokes became more urgent with the intense need to finally cum.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, his breathing coming out even more uneven. "She's gonna make me lose my shit. Just... just keep talkin', princess."

The way you were saying his name, the thought of you knowing he was watching, made it impossible for him to stay still. Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped closer, his throbbing cock in hand, and let out a growl to make you notice him as he slipped inside your tent. "Ya really thought ya could just tease me like this?"

With your fingers still buried deep inside of you, your eyes snapped open. "Daryl?" Even though you knew that he was watching you, you let out a gasp, and your voice trembled slightly.

"Yeah," he said, taking another step closer. There was something else that turned him on even more than just the shock he could see in your eyes. "Thought ya could put on a private show for me, huh?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes never leaving his as he stood directly over you, his cock still hard and pulsing with every stroke of his hand. "A show?" You asked, your voice sounding a little shaky.

"Damn right. A show," he answered with a small smirk. "With me seein’ everythin'. Couldn’t stay away."

You pulled your fingers out of your pussy and tried to stand up, but Daryl pushed you back down with one of his boots on your shoulder. "Stay where ya are," he growled. "Don’t ya dare stop."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as you looked up at him, your heart racing. The realization about the rawness of the moment hit you, and you nodded slowly, your fingers sliding back into your pussy as you lay back down in your tent. Your eyes were locked onto his, and he could see the mixed feelings of shock, excitement, and lust in your gaze.

Daryl’s hand soon moved in rhythm with yours again, his strokes becoming faster and more urgent as he watched you. The sight of you, so shameless and wet for him, made him lose himself even more. "Ya know," he said, his voice still low and rough. "Ain't thought I’d see this day. With yer all spread out like this, knowin' I’m here, watchin' ya fuckin’ yerself. 'S a damn mindfuck."

You moaned in response, your fingers working in and out of your pussy with an increasing speed of your thrusts. "And you think you can just walk in here?" You taunted back and teased him. "You think you’re gonna get what you want, Dixon?"

Daryl’s eyes never left yours, his cock throbbing with need. "Ain't just here for the damn show," he growled. "I’m here to fuckin' claim ya. Ya got that?"

Your eyes widened, and you barely held back a loud moan, your fingers pushing deeper into your pussy. "And what makes you think I’ll just let you?" You challenged him back, your eyes wandering from his cock to his face again.

"Oh, I think ya fuckin' will," Daryl said, his voice full of confidence. "'Cause I fuckin' want to. And it’s my turn to take what I want."

Every movement, every quiet moan, and every word you both whispered to each other heightened the lust and need for the both of you. Daryl’s strokes on his cock became more frantic, and he could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with every stroke, but he was determined to hold off until he had fully taken in the sight of you.

"Gonna make sure ya know who’s watchin'," Daryl said quietly. "Gonna leave my mark on ya."

He positioned himself above you, and without saying another word, he pointed his cock at you, making sure that his cum would land where he wanted it to.

"I ain't done," he growled, his eyes locked on you. "Not yet."

He took another step closer, his hand still jerking his throbbing shaft, while his other hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up slightly, just enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

"Do ya want me to finish like this?" He mumbled, his voice already hoarse. "Or do ya want me to make a fuckin' mess 'round here in yer tent?"

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he let go of your hair and moved his cock closer to your body again. He had seen enough, felt enough—he was on the edge and couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a low groan, he started to jerk himself off harder and faster, his eyes never leaving yours, and without warning, he came hard, his hips bucking wildly and his cum shooting out, landing across your body, most of it on your breasts and chin.

"Fuck," he muttered, still stroking his cock, but slowing down. "Look at ya. Just a fuckin' mess now."

You lay there, slowly pulling your fingers out of your pussy, your body covered with his cum. "You know," you suddenly started, your voice quiet but teasing. "You might be the first wildflower that might leave a thorn in my side."

A smirk formed itself on Daryl's lips due to the mention of the flowers, but it was quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment, and he shifted uncomfortably as he put his cock back into his pants. "Shut ya damn mouth, woman."

Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed your head roughly by your hair, and yanked you up to meet his eyes. You couldn’t help but whimper as he was staring at you up and down, so dangerously close.

Daryl grinned at the noise you made and grabbed your neck with his other hand, the thumb going to your chin and gathering the rest of his cum that was slowly sliding down on it.

"Eat," he insisted, but before you could answer or protest in any way, he put his thumb against your lips and pushed it inside your mouth, waiting for you to suck it off.

And just as he pulled it out again, his mouth came crashing down on yours in a rough and primal kiss. It was demanding, and his teeth moved against your skin as he went down to the side of your jaw, sucking on every bit of flesh on his way down to your neck before biting down hard into it, leaving his mark.

His gaze then fell to your fingers, still glistening with the juices of your pussy, as he held you in a tight grip to keep you from falling due to your trembling legs. Slowly, teasingly, he reached out and brought your fingers to his mouth. His tongue slid over your skin, licking and sucking them off intensely, devouring every bit of what was left of you on them.

Daryl enjoyed the taste of you, and his eyes never left yours as he pulled back a little, his hand roughly grabbing your chin. "Don’t ya fuckin' forget this," he growled, letting go of you and watching as you stumbled back onto the ground in front of him before he finally turned to leave. "Yer mine in ways ya don’t even understand yet."

TAG-LIST: NONE. BECAUSE MY WRITING SUCKS.