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stylesispunk · 2 months ago

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Silent strain | part vi

Outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

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summary: Your relationship with Joel is in a thin line, some truths are confessed, some words are thrown but you're there for each other at the end.

w.c: 13,3k

warnings: angst, reader feels insecure, mentions of depression, fluff, not proofreading. Paragraphs in bold indicate flashbacks. Not the best chapter.

a/n: This chapter is not intense, not my best but it is emotional and we can see reader struggling with her emotions (because hormones and sadness) I think this chapter feels like a filler. It is a filler chapter, sorry. I wrote it in a rush. HOWEVER, at the same time, it ends the tension between Joel and reader. New things will happen, and yes, Paul will have what he deserves. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

There was something strange in the way Joel’s presence since he had come back.

You knew something happened out there. You could see it in his brown eyes, there was something behind the spark, perhaps a lie surfing beneath just for you not to catch a glimpse of it.

The way Ellie had closed herself off wasn’t something you had expected either.

It was a complicated mix, one that stirred a knot of unease in your stomach. You could sense the tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud waiting to burst. The moments you’d shared as a family felt overshadowed by something unspoken, a weight that pressed heavily on both Joel and Ellie.

At first, you had brushed it off as a natural adjustment period, after all, Joel had been gone for so long, and Ellie was grappling with her own feelings about what may had happened out there. But the more the days passed, the more you realized it ran deeper than that.

You found yourself stealing glances at Joel when he thought you weren’t looking, trying to decipher what lay behind his guarded demeanor. There were times when his smile would falter, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he masked it with a joke or a playful jab. And when he looked at Ellie, you could see a flicker of something darker, a shadow of guilt that crept in when he thought no one would notice.

He looked at her with the adoration a father should look at her daughter, but with the guilt of failing her.

And he looked at Rosie with hurt.

You couldn’t help but feel like the two of you were ghosts haunting him, memories of what he had lost and what he was trying so desperately to hold onto. The laughter and giggles you shared with Rosie should have brought him joy, but instead, they seemed to amplify the shadows lurking behind his eyes. It hurt to witness the internal struggle, the love he had for his daughter and the sorrow of knowing he had failed to protect her before she was even born.

You knew he felt guilty since the other night when that stupid flicker of doubt crept upon him, but you had you brushed it off for his sake, and for your own. You thought things would be better then. You had been together again; he had made love to you but you felt useless.

There was a distance that was never there before and it crumbled you.

It had been two weeks.

And it hurt.

Looking at Joel hurt.

Talking to Ellie hurt

An even looking at your daughter hurt.

The things between him and Ellie had shifted, leaving you feeling increasingly isolated. You noticed how Joel and Ellie seemed to retreat into their own world, while you stood on the outside, watching them from a distance. You tried to push through it, but even looking at Rosie had begun to hurt, every cry and fuss reminding you of how Paul’s words had lingered, twisting your mind, making you doubt yourself. Maybe Joel and Ellie were pulling away because they saw something in you, something broken, something not enough.

You weren’t the family you had become during those months you spent outside. Not the one you dreamt of it.

you prepared dinner for the three of you. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but you wanted to create a sense of normalcy, to find a connection again. As the minutes ticked by, the food grew cold on the table, and neither Joel nor Ellie showed up. Rosie started to cry, her wails sharp and insistent. You tried to feed her, but she refused, turning her head away. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and soon it felt like too much. You couldn’t calm her, and the weight of everything came crashing down.

Tears blurred your vision as you desperately tried to soothe Rosie, but nothing worked. You began to cry yourself, feeling utterly defeated when Joel finally walked in, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the day.

“What’s wrong with her?” Joel asked, his voice tinged with concern but also an edge of impatience.

You could barely look at him through your tears. “I don’t know,” you choked out. “She doesn’t want to leech… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Joel stepped closer; his face drawn into a tight expression. “Give her to me,” he said firmly, reaching out. “You’re going to stress her out.”

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, staring at him in disbelief. “You’ve known her for two weeks, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling with hurt. “You don’t know what she wants.”

Joel’s face darkened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. “I know better,” he shot back, his tone almost dismissive. “I’ve been a father before. I know what a baby needs.”

The implication that you didn’t know what you were doing as a mother stung so deeply that it left you momentarily speechless. Your hands shook as you handed Rosie over to him, the words you wanted to say lodged painfully in your throat. As he took her, your gaze shifted to the table, the cold food sitting there, untouched. You had tried so hard to make something work tonight, to find a way to bridge the growing distance, but now it felt like all your efforts were in vain.

Joel glanced at the table, his eyes landing on the uneaten meal, and you saw the realization hit him. His face softened, his anger dissipating as the weight of what just happened sank in. “I—” he started, trying to find the words, but you couldn’t listen. You couldn’t stand the sight of him trying to fix something he didn’t understand.

You walked back into the house, your feet heavy with exhaustion, both physical and emotional. You could hear Joel calling after you, his voice soft but filled with so much urgency. “Wait,” he pleaded, but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

The weight of everything he’d said crushed you. It wasn’t just about this moment; it was days of him being distant, of feeling like you were carrying it all alone. You had done it for so long, and now, with him back, it felt like nothing had changed.

You reached the bedroom, stepping inside before turning and quietly closing the door. With trembling hands, you locked it. The soft click of the lock echoed in the stillness of the room. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it might as well have been a final barrier between you and Joel.

“Hey… hey, open the door,” Joel called from the other side, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, just talk to me.”

But you couldn’t answer. Not now. You pressed your back against the door, sliding down to the floor as your knees gave way, the tears spilling out uncontrollably. You hugged your arms around your knees, trying to hold yourself together, but it felt impossible.

“Come on,” Joel begged, his voice muffled by the door but still pleading. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I—damn it—just open the door. We can talk.”

Outside, you could hear Joel’s hand resting against the door, as if he was trying to feel your presence on the other side. “I don’t know what to say to fix this,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”

But the space between you felt vast. Even though you knew he was just on the other side of the door, it was as if he were miles away. The crying from Rosie grew louder, and you could hear the frustration in Joel’s voice.

“Please… don’t do this,” he whispered.

But you still didn’t answer. You couldn’t. And in that moment, the only sound filling the void between you and Joel was Rosie’s cries. They echoed through the house, a reminder of the tiny life you were both trying to protect, yet somehow feeling further apart from each other than ever before.

You sat there, leaning against the door, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. When had it all become too much? You weren’t this weak before. You were strong, you had to be. You had been through so much, survived so much, and yet here you were, crumbling under the pressure of emotions that you couldn’t control.

You didn’t know when you had let it all get to this point. When the doubts, the fears, and the weight of trying to be enough, both for Rosie and for Joel, had started to consume you. It was like you had been holding it together for so long, and now, everything was unraveling.

You used to pride yourself on being able to handle it all. But now… now you felt like you were drowning. The tears wouldn’t stop, and you hated that. You hated feeling this weak, hated that your emotions had taken the best of you. That you couldn’t just push it down and be the strong person you had always been.

Rosie’s cries brought you back to the moment, but even her soft whimpers only made the ache in your chest deepen. You wanted to get up, to soothe her, but you felt so drained, so completely overwhelmed, that you couldn’t even move.

The sound of Joel’s voice, still pleading softly from the other side of the door, was like a distant echo in the back of your mind. You could hear his pain, but it was almost too much to bear. You knew he was hurting too, but how could you comfort him or your daughter when you couldn’t even find the strength to comfort yourself?

You rested your head against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. But every time you thought you could, that tight feeling in your chest came back, choking you with a flood of emotions you couldn’t control.

“I don’t know when I became this weak,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the sound of Rosie’s cries and Joel’s muffled pleas.

Somewhere deep down, you knew you weren’t weak. You were tired, tired of carrying it all on your own, tired of pretending to be okay when you weren’t. But in this moment, it was hard to remember that. Hard to remember the strength that had gotten you this far.

Paul’s words echoed in your mind like an unwelcome refrain, twisting and turning until they felt like a noose tightening around your thoughts. “You can’t do this alone.” “He won’t come back.” Each phrase replayed like a haunting melody, suffocating your resolve.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they clung to you like shadows. “You’re not strong enough for this. You’re just going to end up hurt.” The memories of those moments, his condescending tone, the way he had looked at you as if you were fragile, were like needles piercing through the fragile veneer you had built around yourself.

But you weren’t fragile. You had survived against all odds, faced every challenge thrown your way, and yet here you were, paralyzed by a single man’s cruel words. You had spent nights comforting Rosie when she cried, soothing her fears, and yet, when it came to yourself, you found it impossible to extend that same compassion.

The weight of it all felt unbearable. You were torn between the love you felt for Rosie and Joel and the crippling fear that you were failing them both. The thought of losing Joel again, of having him walk away because you couldn’t hold it together, made your heart race with panic.

What if Paul was right? What if you were a burden? The nagging doubts clawed at your mind, urging you to believe that you were unworthy of the love and support surrounding you. “He left you.”

You let out a choked sob, unable to suppress the flood of emotions any longer. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” you murmured, the words slipping out between shaky breaths. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of uncertainty, gasping for air but finding none.

Just then, Rosie’s cries escalated, piercing through your turmoil. The sound broke through the fog of despair, a reminder that she needed you, that you were her mother.

With a shaky breath, you pushed off the door and stood up and opened the door, immediately facing Joel with despair in his eyes.

Joel's heart sank at the sight of you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cradled Rosie in your arms. He stepped forward, his hands reaching out instinctively. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here.”

You could see the concern etched across his features, but all you felt was an overwhelming wave of emotion that threatened to engulf you. “She just wanted her mother,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how to do this, Joel. I thought I could, but…”

Joel’s heart ached at your vulnerability. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you and Rosie, pulling you both into a tight embrace. “You’re doing better than you think,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re a great mother. I’ve seen it. I see the way you care for her.”

You leaned into Joel’s embrace, but the warmth of his body only made the tears flow harder. “You don’t understand,” you sobbed, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. “I don’t feel like a great mother. Every time I look at her, it hurts. I thought I could handle it.”

Joel’s expression shifted to one of concern as he took a step back, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. This isn’t easy for any of us. But I promise you, you’re not alone in this. You’ve been doing everything you can.”

You shook your head, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “But I’m not doing enough! I can hear Paul’s words in my head, telling me I can’t do this alone, that you wouldn’t come back for me-”

“But I’m here, I came back.” He spoke, his tone reassuring your doubts.

You shook your head, “No you didn’t. You’re just half of what you were before.”

Joel’s expression faltered, hurt flickering across his features. “I know I’m not the same,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m trying. I’m here, and I want to be here for you and Rosie. You have to believe that.”

You stepped back, shaking your head as the tears streamed down your face. “But it doesn’t feel like enough. I thought you’d come back ready to fight for us, but instead, it feels like I’m still alone. You’re not the person I fell in love with. You’ve got so many walls up, and I don’t know how to break through them.”

“I’m trying to let those walls down,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But it’s hard, okay? I’ve been through things you can’t even begin to understand, and I’m just trying to process it all. But I don’t want to lose you, too.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’re not going to lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I’m stuck here, Joel! Stuck with all these feelings and fears, and you’re acting like you don’t even want to try.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and pain evident in his posture. “You think I don’t want to try? I want to be the man you need me to be, but I’m struggling, too. I can’t just forget everything that’s happened out there. I don’t know how to just turn it off.”

“I know you’re struggling,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I need you to at least try to meet me halfway.”

As Rosie’s cries grew louder, each wail felt like a reminder of the weight pressing down on both of you. You could hear her distress echoing your own turmoil, amplifying the emotions swirling in your chest. You wiped your tears, feeling the frustration mix with the overwhelming love you had for your daughter.

“I can’t handle this right now, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to maintain your composure.

Joel's face softened, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching out tentatively. “Let me help, then. Please. I don’t want you to feel like you’re carrying this alone. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You glanced down at Rosie, who was now whimpering, her little fists clenched as she squirmed in her crib. The sight made your heart ache, and the tears flowed more freely.

"I wish I would have died that day instead of Tess" you replied, walking back to the room.

Joel’s face twisted in pain at your words, his eyes clouding with grief and regret. He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. "Don't say that. Don’t ever say that. You’re the reason we’ve made it this far. Without you… I don’t know what I’d be."

But your mind was spinning, tangled in the emotions you couldn’t unravel. Rosie’s cries felt like a mirror of your own inner turmoil, and each sob felt like a weight pressing deeper on your chest. You rubbed at your face, trying to push away the tears that kept falling. “I’m tired, Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Joel looked down at Rosie, who had quieted slightly but still whimpered softly, her tiny face scrunched in discomfort. He exhaled slowly, his hands trembling as he reached out toward you but then let them fall back to his sides. I should have helped sooner. I didn’t—" His voice caught in his throat. "I didn’t realize how much you needed me to be here."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. "No, Joel, you didn’t. And now, I don’t know if you ever really will be. You’re here, but half of you is still somewhere out there, and I don’t know how to reach that part of you.”

Your hands trembled as you held Rosie, her soft whimpers clawing at your already frayed nerves. The exhaustion, the hurt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility, it was all crashing down on you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just make her stop crying,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you handed Rosie to Joel, your arms suddenly feeling too weak to hold her any longer. The moment Joel took her from you, the sob you had been holding in finally escaped. Your chest tightened, and for a second, everything seemed to blur around you.

Before Joel could respond, your body gave way to the exhaustion consuming you for so long. Your vision darkened as you slumped forward, your world fading into black as you passed out.

You pressed yourself against the cold, concrete wall of the Quarantine Zone, your heart pounding in your chest as you listened to the footsteps of the guards patrolling nearby. You had always been good at finding places to hide, but lately, the tension in the air had made even your usual spots feel less safe.

You had come to the trading post with the intention of scrounging up some supplies for yourself, but you had miscalculated the risks. Now, hiding from the guards had become a habit—one you were starting to regret.

Just as you thought you were in the clear, you heard a voice from behind you. “What are you doing back here?”

You turned to find a man standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed with curiosity. He was older than you, with a rugged look that spoke of hard living, and something in his eyes hinted at a depth of experience.

“Just… hiding,” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart raced at the prospect of being caught.

He chuckled softly, a sound that was surprisingly comforting. “You’re gonna get yourself into trouble doing that. You know the guards won’t hesitate to drag you in if they catch you.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you said defiantly, but your voice wavered slightly.

“Yeah? You sure about that?” He stepped closer, his gaze assessing you. “You think you can take them on?”

You shrugged, feeling a mix of bravado and fear. “I can handle myself.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Maybe. But it’s always better to have someone watching your back.”

You looked at him, searching for any hint of deceit in his expression, but all you saw was honesty and a hint of amusement. “And what’s your name?” you asked, intrigued despite yourself.

“Joel,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a faint smile. “And you’re a long way from safe out here, kid.”

“Kid? I’m not a kid,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“Sure you’re not,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But you’d be surprised how fast things can go sideways in this world. Better to be careful.”

Just then, the guards’ voices echoed down the hallway, and you felt your stomach drop. Without thinking, you grabbed Joel’s arm and pulled him into the small space behind some crates.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, a mix of surprise and approval.

“Hiding,” you whispered, your breath quickening as the guards drew closer.

He didn’t protest, instead leaning in slightly, his presence solid and reassuring. The guards passed by, their footsteps fading into the distance, and you let out a shaky breath.

“That was close,” you muttered, still pressed against him.

He glanced down at you, the tension of the moment breaking slightly. “You know, if you keep this up, I might have to start charging you for my help.”

You looked up at him, catching the flicker of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, right. You’re just as likely to get caught with me around.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe. But I think I can manage.”

When the coast was clear, you cautiously peeked out from behind the crates. “Thanks for that,” you said, a bit shyly. “I didn’t expect to find someone like you back here.”

When you finally stirred, your head throbbed, and for a moment, everything felt hazy. You blinked, your vision blurry as you slowly came back to consciousness. The room was dim, and you struggled to remember what had happened, but as your senses sharpened, you realized you were lying on the couch. You felt something cold against your forehead—a damp cloth—and when you turned your head slightly, you were met with Paul’s concerned face.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching next to the couch, his hand still holding the cloth. “You gave us a scare.”

Confusion swirled in your mind. “Paul?” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at how weak it sounded. “What are you doing here?”

Paul sighed, his expression serious but gentle. “Joel was a mess. He didn’t know what to do, so he came and got me.” He glanced over his shoulder, where you saw Joel standing by the doorway, his face a mix of guilt and helplessness. His eyes were fixed on you, but he didn’t say a word.

The memory of what had happened earlier hit you like a punch to the gut. The crying, the exhaustion, the overwhelming sense of defeat—and then nothing. You tried to sit up, but Paul gently pushed you back down.

“Take it easy,” he urged. “You’ve been out for a while.”

Rosie’s soft whimpers caught your attention, and you turned your head to see her in Joel’s arms. He was gently bouncing her, trying to soothe her, but his eyes kept darting back to you. You could see the strain on his face, the weight of everything that had happened between you both etched into every line of his expression.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, even though you felt anything but fine. You wanted to tell Paul to leave, to tell Joel that you didn’t need him to bring someone else to take care of you, but the words stuck in your throat.

Paul raised an eyebrow. “You passed out from exhaustion. That’s not ‘fine,’ and you know it.” He glanced at Joel again before turning back to you. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You don’t even have your spark anymore” he added, carrying a sense of undertone that made your anger raise.

The insinuation stung, and beneath your exhaustion, frustration flared to life. How dare he stand there and judge you? How dare he talk about something he couldn’t possibly understand? You’d been doing everything you could to hold it together, to take care of Rosie, to keep going. But now, with the weight of his words, it felt like everything was crumbling.

Your hands clenched into fists as you sat up, despite Paul’s earlier insistence that you rest. “Get out of my house.”

Paul raised his hands, backing off a little, but there was still something in his expression that fueled your frustration. “I’m just saying you don’t have to do this all alone.”

“I know I don’t!” you shot back. You don’t know what it’s like—” Your voice caught in your throat, and you couldn’t finish. The exhaustion, the frustration, the overwhelming sense of failure all clashed inside of you.

Joel, who had been standing silently with Rosie, stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “I think that’s enough.” There was a tension in his tone, something protective.

Paul’s expression shifted, his calm demeanor faltering as he glanced between you and Joel. “You deserve someone who’s going to actually be there for you,” he said, his voice laced with an edge of condescension. “Not someone who’s half here, someone who’s too wrapped up in their own demons to care for you or Rosie.” He shot a pointed look at Joel, clearly implying that he wasn’t the man for you.

That was it. Joel’s face hardened, his jaw clenched tight. Without a word, he gently placed Rosie down in her crib, making sure she was safe, and then he turned back toward Paul. The tension in the room thickened, and before you could react, Joel strode forward with purpose.

“Joel, don’t—” you started, but it was too late.

In one swift movement, Joel’s fist connected with Paul’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. The force of the punch was strong, a raw release of all the frustration and anger Joel had been holding back. Paul let out a grunt of pain, clutching his face as he tried to steady himself.

“Get out,” Joel growled, his voice low and dangerous. His usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. “You don’t come into our home and tell her what she deserves.”

Paul straightened up, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes filled with a mix of shock and anger. “You think this is going to change anything?” he spat, glaring at Joel. “She deserves better than you, and deep down, you know it.”

Joel took a step closer, his fists still clenched, but you quickly moved between them, your heart racing. “Stop,” you said, your voice trembling. You couldn’t deal with this right now—the fighting, the anger, the tension.

Paul shot one last glare at Joel before turning his gaze toward you. “You know where to find me when you finally realize what you deserve.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind him.

For a moment, there was silence. You stood there, your body tense, your mind racing. Joel was still breathing heavily, the adrenaline from the confrontation clearly not yet faded. He glanced down at you, his face softening as he saw the strain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Joel said quietly, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of everything pressing down on you again. Finally, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Don't listen to him, you deserve me. But right now, Joel, you’re being an asshole." you said walking back to the bedroom.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the exhaustion in your face, the weight you were carrying, silenced him. You didn’t wait for an answer. Turning away, you walked back toward the bedroom, the thud of your footsteps matching the heavy thrum of your heartbeat. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t turn around. The last few days had taken their toll, and you were too drained to face another argument.

As you reached the bedroom door, you paused for a moment, your hand resting on the frame. You wanted to say more, to explain the hurt and frustration swirling inside you, but the words felt stuck, tangled in the knot of emotions you’d been holding in for too long.

Without looking back, you stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind you. The quiet click of the lock felt like a small barrier between you and the chaos outside, but even in the solitude of the bedroom, the weight of everything pressed down on you.

You walked over to the bed, your legs heavy with exhaustion, and sat on the edge. Your body ached, not from any physical strain but from the emotional toll of everything you’d been through. The fight with Paul, the tension with Joel, the constant pressure to be strong for Rosie, it was all catching up with you.

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath as the tears threatened to spill over again. “I just want things to be okay,” you whispered to yourself, but the room offered no answers, no relief from the storm raging inside you.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft sound of Rosie stirring in her crib. The sunlight was just beginning to filter through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You blinked a few times, feeling the remnants of exhaustion still clinging to you, but instinctively, you moved to tend to your daughter.

Rosie let out a little whimper as you gently lifted her into your arms, and you rocked her softly, humming a quiet tune. The peace of the early morning felt like a small reprieve from the storm of emotions from the night before. For a moment, it was just you and her, the world outside the bedroom door distant.

As you fed Rosie, your eyes drifted to the slightly open door, and a thought crossed your mind. Once she had finished and you had settled her back down, you quietly left the room, padding down the hallway in your socks.

You stopped when you reached the living room, your heart giving a little tug at the sight before you. Joel was asleep on the couch, his body curled up slightly, his face turned away from the room. His breathing was slow and even, but there was something about the way he lay there, like the weight of everything had finally knocked him down, that made your heart ache.

He looked so tired, the lines of stress etched into his face even in sleep. For a long moment, you just stood there, watching him. Despite everything, despite the arguments and the walls between you, there was still that pull, the part of you that loved him so deeply it hurt.

But you couldn’t ignore how broken things had become, how much distance had grown between you, and how helpless you’d felt in the middle of it all. You didn’t know how to fix it, but seeing him there, so vulnerable, softened something inside you.

You approached the couch slowly, hesitant. You didn’t want to wake him, not yet. But you stood by the edge of the couch, looking down at him, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sleeves as you tried to figure out what to do next.

The tension between you two from the night before still hung in the air, but for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe it wasn’t too late to reach him. Maybe there was still a way back to each other.

In the kitchen, you set about making a quiet breakfast, keeping your movements soft and deliberate. The sound of eggs sizzling in the pan and the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, creating a sense of normalcy that had been absent for a while. It was strange how these small routines—things you used to take for granted—now felt like lifelines.

As you stirred the coffee, your mind wandered back to the tension from the day before. Paul’s words, Joel’s anger, your own emotional breakdown—it all swirled around in your head like a storm you couldn’t quite escape. You felt the familiar knot tighten in your chest, but you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the simple task of making breakfast.

You heard a soft shuffle behind you and turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, his expression a mix of fatigue and hesitation. He looked at you for a moment, then glanced down at his feet, clearly unsure of what to say after everything that had happened.

"I... didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was going to come back to bed."

You nodded, not entirely sure how to respond. Part of you wanted to tell him it was okay, that you understood, but another part of you was still so hurt, so weighed down by everything that had been left unsaid between you.

Instead, you turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs onto a plate. "Breakfast is almost ready," you said quietly, keeping your tone neutral.

Joel hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "Look, about last night..." he started, his voice soft but filled with the weight of everything unsaid.

You kept your back to him, focusing on pouring the coffee. "Let’s not do this right now, Joel. I don’t have the energy to fight today."

"It’s not about fighting," he said, his voice a little firmer now. "I just... I know I’ve been distant. I know I haven’t been the man you need me to be, and I hate that I’m making you feel like you’re alone in this. You’re not. I’m here, even when it doesn’t seem like it."

You finally turned to face him, your eyes searching his face for the sincerity behind his words. He looked tired, his brown eyes filled with a mix of regret and something deeper—something that reminded you of the man you fell in love with.

"Then why does it feel like you’re somewhere else?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with the vulnerability you’d been trying to hide.

Joel took a slow breath, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. "Because part of me is," he admitted, his voice rough. "There are things I’ve been holding onto—things from out there, from everything I’ve done to keep us safe. I thought I was protecting you by keeping it all inside, but I can see now that it’s only been pushing you away."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

He nodded; his eyes filled with emotion. "I’m trying, I swear. But I’m scared—scared that if you knew everything, you’d see me differently."

You reached out then, placing a hand on his chest. "I already know you, Joel. I know what you’ve done, and I still love you. But we can’t keep doing this—this back and forth, this shutting each other out. It’s breaking us."

Joel looked down at your hand on his chest, covering it with his own. "I don’t want to lose you," he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion.

“You’re losing me now” you whispered.

Joel’s expression shifted, a flicker of something dark passing over his face, and his hand tightened slightly around yours. For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. He looked away, his gaze drifting toward the window, avoiding your eyes as though what he was about to say was too much to bear.

“I lied,” Joel said, his voice low and strained, barely louder than a whisper. “To Ellie… about what happened with the Fireflies.”

You blinked, confusion rippling through you, trying to grasp what he meant. "What do you mean you lied?"

His jaw clenched as he struggled to find the words. “I told her they couldn’t find a cure. That they ran some tests and it didn’t work. But… that wasn’t the truth.”

A sick feeling churned in your stomach, your heart racing as you tried to process what he was telling you. "Joel... what are you saying?" you asked, your voice shaky, almost afraid to hear the answer.

He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with guilt, the weight of it crushing him. “They were going to use her… to make the cure. But to do that, they would’ve had to kill her.”

The air seemed to rush out of the room as the realization hit you. "Oh my God," you breathed, stepping back slightly, your hand slipping from his chest. "You... you stopped them."

Joel nodded, his face tight with regret. "I didn’t give them a choice. I couldn’t let them take her life, even if it meant sacrificing the chance for a cure. I killed them. All of them.”

You stood there, frozen, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend the enormity of what he had done. The weight of his decision, the lives lost, the potential cure for humanity—gone because he couldn’t bear to lose Ellie. It was a truth that hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

"She doesn’t know, does she?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Ellie doesn’t know the truth."

Joel shook his head, his eyes filled with pain. "No. She still thinks there was nothing they could do. She trusts me… and I’ve been lying to her this whole time."

You covered your mouth with your hand, feeling a mix of emotions crashing over you—shock, anger, sorrow, and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. You knew how much Ellie meant to Joel, how much she had become like a daughter to him. But this… this was something else. He had taken away her choice, her right to know the truth about her own life.

"Joel," you said, your voice trembling with disbelief. "You... you took that choice away from her. You lied to protect her, but... what if she finds out? What then?"

"I know," Joel rasped, his voice cracking. "I know what I did, and I know it was wrong. But I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t go through that again."

You stared at him, seeing the brokenness in his eyes, the depth of his fear and guilt. He had made an impossible choice—one that had saved Ellie’s life but had cost him a piece of his soul. And now, that lie hung between you, heavy and suffocating.

"I didn’t tell you because... because I didn’t want you to look at me like this," Joel continued, his voice faltering. "Like I’m a monster."

Tears filled your eyes, but you blinked them back, trying to hold yourself together. "You’re not a monster, Joel," you said, your voice hoarse. "But this... this is so much more than I ever thought you were carrying. And it’s not just your burden to bear. You should have told me."

"I know," Joel whispered, stepping closer, his eyes pleading with you. "I’m telling you now because... because I can’t keep this from you anymore. I can’t keep shutting you out, not after everything we’ve been through."

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to process the weight of his confession. When you opened them, you met his gaze, your voice soft but firm. "You lied to her to protect her. But you can’t keep lying, Joel. Not to me, and not to Ellie. Eventually, she’s going to find out. And when that happens… what are you going to do?"

Joel’s face crumpled, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "But I’m terrified of losing her. And now… I’m terrified of losing you, too."

You stood there, staring at the man you loved, the man who had fought to protect the people he cared about, even if it meant making choices that would haunt him for the rest of his life. You didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know what to say, but one thing was clear, you couldn’t go back to how things were.

“And what made you think you couldn't trust me with this?” You asked him things were.

Joel sighed heavily, his arms still wrapped around you, but he didn’t meet your eyes. He pulled back slightly, his expression a mixture of guilt and fear. “It wasn’t about trust,” he said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. “It was… fear.”

You frowned, your heart tightening at his words. “Fear of what? Of me? Of what I’d think of you?”

He shook his head, finally meeting your gaze, his eyes full of vulnerability you rarely saw in him. “No. I wasn’t afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you too. Of you seeing me for who I really am.”

You stared at him, taken aback. "Joel, I already know who you are. I've seen you at your best and your worst. You’ve always trusted me with everything, so why was this different?"

He hesitated; his voice low. "Because this… this was somethin' darker. I crossed a line that I never wanted to cross again. I did it for Ellie, but it doesn’t change what it makes me. And I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "Joel, you’re not a monster," you said firmly, your voice soft but steady. "You did what you thought was right, even if it wasn’t easy to understand. I may not agree with what you did, but I can’t blame you for wanting to protect her."

His eyes searched yours, as if seeking reassurance that he wasn’t beyond redemption. "You’re not scared of what I did?"

"I’m not scared of you," you said softly, stroking your thumb over his cheek. "But I need you to trust me with the truth, even when it’s ugly. Because if we don’t have that, then what do we have?"

Joel closed his eyes briefly, his face showing the toll of carrying that burden alone for so long. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of relief in his gaze, as if a weight had finally been lifted. "I should’ve told you sooner," he admitted, his voice raw with regret. "I just didn’t want to lose you too."

"You won’t lose me, Joel," you whispered.

You held him tightly, feeling the weight of his guilt and fear in the way he clung to you. His body trembled slightly, and you knew how much it took for him to open up, to let you see this side of him.

"I won’t tell her,”You whispered softly, your voice calm but firm. "I’ll carry this for you, Joel. But when you’re ready, when you feel like you can… promise me you’ll try to tell her."

Joel’s breath hitched, and he buried his face in your shoulder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid to let go. After a long pause, he finally nodded against you. "I promise," he murmured, his voice rough. "I’ll try."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. "That’s all I need, Joel," you said softly. "We’ll get through this together, just like everything else."

His eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, you saw a glimmer of hope in them. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I don’t deserve you," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. "You do," you whispered back. "You always have."

For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just the two of you, finding your way back to each other after everything you’d been through. And in that silence, you knew that, despite all the pain and mistakes, your bond was stronger than ever. You would carry this burden together, and when the time came, you would both face the truth with the same strength you’d always relied on.

He kissed your forehead gently, lingering there as if grounding himself in the moment. "Thank you," he said quietly.

You allowed him to get a hold of you for as long as he needed. You loved him enough for that, but you couldn’t help but feel the fear creeping upon you. The consequences this would have in the aftermath terrified you, but you would hold it for him, and for Ellie.

It was late, and the dim lights of the QZ barely flickered through the cracks in the old apartment. You had gotten used to the sounds of the place—the distant hum of generators, the occasional shouts from outside, and the ever-present sense of unease that came with living in a world so broken. But tonight was different. Tess wouldn’t be coming back, and you had already resigned yourself to the familiar routine of finding a corner to sleep in, far from Joel’s space.

You were in the middle of pulling the blanket over yourself when you heard Joel’s footsteps behind you. They were quieter than usual, hesitant almost, and you looked up, surprised to see him standing at the door of the bedroom.

He didn’t speak at first, just lingered there, his silhouette framed by the faint light from the hallway. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides as if he was wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.

As you settled under the thin blankets, the memory of that kiss—just days ago—lingered between you, unspoken but heavy in the air. It had taken you both by surprise, neither of you expecting it, but there had been something in Joel’s eyes that night, a shift, a quiet understanding. That kiss had been his way of telling you, without words, that he trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time. It wasn’t just about desire; it was about letting you in, allowing you to see a side of him he kept hidden from the world.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat. “You… uh, you don’t have to sleep out there tonight,” he said, his voice rough but softer than you were used to hearing from him. "There’s enough room in here."

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. You’d been sharing this space for a while now, but you’d always kept a respectful distance. Joel had never given any indication that he wanted it otherwise, and you had assumed it was just easier that way. Safer, maybe.

But there he was, standing in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and the bed behind him. There was something vulnerable in the way he stood, as if this was a question he wasn’t used to asking.

“Are you…you… want me to sleep in there?” you asked, your voice quiet, not wanting to misread the moment.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s late. Cold too. Just thought… it’d be more comfortable. For both of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t just about comfort, you could tell. There was a layer of unspoken words in his offer, a need for connection in a world that had stripped so much away.

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded, rising slowly from the corner you’d claimed. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel stepped aside as you walked past him, letting you into the small, cramped bedroom. The bed wasn’t much—just a thin mattress and some worn blankets.

You slid under the covers, feeling the tension in the room as Joel stood there, watching you for a second longer before moving toward the other side of the bed. He lay down beside you, his body stiff and awkward at first, like he didn’t quite know how to do this. You could feel the space between you, but it was less about the physical distance and more about the emotional walls that had been built between you both over time.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, filled with all the things neither of you could say. But there was something comforting in it too—a quiet understanding that, despite everything, you weren’t alone.

Just as you were starting to relax, Joel’s voice broke the silence. “I’m not good at this,” he muttered, his tone laced with self-doubt. "But I want to… I mean, I’m trying."

You turned your head to look at him, catching the faint outline of his face in the darkness. There was something so raw, so real in his words that it made your chest tighten. “Me too,” you whispered back.

He let out a long breath, as if relieved by your answer, and shifted slightly closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that the space between you felt a little smaller, a little less daunting.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, your thoughts racing, trying to figure out what to say or do to break the barrier between you. And then, just as you were about to speak, you felt the bed shift as Joel turned towards you. His presence was suddenly much closer, and before you could react, his hand reached out, tentative, brushing against your arm.

You turned your head to look at him again, and even in the dim light, you could see the hesitation in his eyes. It was like he was battling with himself, wanting to reach out but not knowing if it was okay to do so.

Without thinking, you moved closer, closing the small gap between you. You could feel the warmth of his body now, the roughness of his breath as he fought against the vulnerability of the moment. And then, suddenly, his lips were on yours—soft but insistent, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer.

It was different from the first kiss. This one wasn’t hesitant or uncertain. This was Joel making a decision, deciding to let you in just a little more, to tear down one more wall. His hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that single moment.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the intimacy of the kiss settling around you like a blanket. You felt his hand tighten slightly on your face, a silent plea for you to understand everything he was struggling to say.

It had been a long morning since Joel left for patrol. You hadn’t said much to each other before he walked out the door, but the look he gave you was enough to tell you that he was trying—really trying to work through the mess that lay between you. It was a fragile peace, but you both knew there was no quick fix.

Rosie had been especially fussy, and after finally settling her down for a nap, you decided to go for a walk to clear your head. The weight of the past few days lingered like a storm cloud, and with Joel out, you found yourself restless, searching for some sense of normalcy. A visit to Maria seemed like a good way to pass the time. She’d always had a calming presence, and you could use some of her wisdom, especially after everything that had happened.

As you made your way through the winding streets of Jackson, the crisp autumn air nipping at your skin, you tried to shake off the lingering emotions. The town was peaceful, the sound of hammers and voices in the distance as people continued with their daily tasks. You could almost pretend everything was fine for a moment, that life was simple here.

But as you turned a corner, that fragile peace shattered.

There he was. Paul.

He was standing by the fence, talking to one of the other settlers, but the moment he saw you, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed, and a smirk played at the corners of his lips as he excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you wanted was to deal with him right now, not after everything that had happened with Joel. But Paul was relentless, always showing up when you least wanted him around. His words from the previous night still echoed in your mind—the way he had implied that Joel wasn’t enough for you, that you deserved better.

You squared your shoulders and tried to keep walking, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you alone. But of course, Paul never made things that easy.

“Heading somewhere?” Paul called out as he fell into step beside you, his tone casual but laced with that same undertone of smugness that had set you off before.

“I’m busy, Paul,” you replied, not bothering to look at him. “I don’t have time for this.”

He chuckled softly, the sound grating on your nerves. “You always seem to be busy these days. What, too wrapped up in playing house with Joel to even talk?”

Your jaw clenched, but you kept your gaze forward, refusing to engage.

“Come on,” Paul pressed, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned in, “you and I both know you deserve better than this. You’ve been through so much, and for what? To be stuck with a man who can’t even give you what you need? You’re not happy, and everyone can see it.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your blood boiling. “Stop,” you hissed, turning to face him now. “I don’t care what you think you know, Paul, but you don’t get to talk about my life like that. Joel’s my husband, and I’m not interested in whatever it is you think you can offer.”

Paul’s expression hardened for a moment, but then he shrugged, the smirk never quite leaving his face. “I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to settle for less, you know? I see the way you look—tired, worn down. You’re not the same woman I met when you first came here. He’s changed you.”

His words hit deeper than you wanted to admit, poking at the insecurities you’d been grappling with for so long. You knew you were tired, knew you and Joel were struggling, but you weren’t about to let Paul twist that into something it wasn’t.

“I don’t need your help,” you said, your voice low and firm. “And I’m not some broken woman waiting for you to swoop in and save me. I’m stronger than you think.”

Paul scoffed, shaking his head. “You think you’re strong? Look at you. You’re exhausted. You’re barely holding it together. How long until Joel drags you down with him? You deserve more than that, and you know it.”

You took a step back, your heart racing with a mix of anger and hurt. “This conversation is over, Paul. Leave me alone.”

But just as you turned to walk away, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm. It wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading now. “You don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to keep pretending that everything’s okay with him. I can give you a life, a real one. No more hiding, no more fear. You could be happy.”

You yanked your arm free, stepping back, your eyes blazing with anger. “I am happy, Paul,” you said, your voice shaking with emotion. “Or at least I’m trying to be. But I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I should feel or what I deserve.”

Paul’s smirk faded then, his face hardening as he realized he wasn’t getting through to you. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping back. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all falls apart.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood there for a moment, trying to collect yourself. The encounter had left you rattled, the anger still simmering beneath your skin. But as much as Paul’s words had gotten under your skin, you knew he was wrong

You found your way to Maria’s house, still feeling the tension from the encounter with Paul clinging to your skin. When she opened the door, her face softened immediately, recognizing the weariness in your expression. She welcomed you in without hesitation, her hand resting gently on her growing belly as she led you inside.

“How’re you holding up?” Maria asked, her voice filled with genuine concern as she guided you to sit down at the kitchen table.

You forced a small smile, trying to shake off the weight of everything. “I’m… managing. How about you? How’s the pregnancy going?”

Maria’s face lit up slightly, her hand instinctively moving to rub her belly. “It’s been good, mostly. Tiring, of course. But Tommy’s been helping a lot, and the baby’s healthy, so I can’t complain.” She paused, giving you a knowing look. “But something tells me you didn’t come here just to check in on me.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I just needed to get out of the house. Things have been… rough.”

Maria didn’t press, simply nodding as she sat across from you. “It’s not easy, I know that much. You and Joel have been through a lot.”

You stared down at your hands, feeling the familiar sting of frustration building inside you again. “Yeah, we have. But it feels like everything’s falling apart, and I don’t know how to keep it together.”

There was a long silence between you, the weight of your words settling into the space. Maria’s eyes softened, understanding far beyond what she needed to say. She didn’t offer advice or try to fix things—she just listened. And in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

After a few more minutes of small talk, you glanced at Rosie, who had been dozing off in her carrier. The sight of her, so small and peaceful, tugged at your heart, but it also made you feel even more trapped. You needed space to breathe, to think.

“Maria,” you said hesitantly, “could you… could you take care of Rosie for a little while? I just need some time. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Maria’s brows furrowed slightly, concern creeping into her expression, but she didn’t question you. “Of course,” she said gently, reaching for Rosie’s carrier. “You go do what you need to do. She’ll be safe with me.”

You nodded, grateful, but you couldn’t shake the guilt that tugged at you as you handed Rosie over. You hated feeling like you were running away, but the walls in Jackson were closing in on you, and you needed a break—just a moment to clear your head.

After making sure everything was set for Rosie, you thanked Maria again and left the house, the cool air of Jackson hitting your face as you stepped outside. Your heart raced as you made your way through the town, your mind already spinning with the familiar plan that had once been second nature to you.

Sneaking out of from a place wasn’t something you’d done in a long time, but the muscle memory kicked in as soon as you approached the outer edge of the settlement. You knew the weak points, the places where the patrols didn’t keep a close eye. You’d used these routes before in different places, and now that you needed you were going to use your skills for it.

You slipped through a wall, your pulse quickening as you moved into the wilderness beyond the walls of Jackson. The trees were thick, their branches swaying in the gentle breeze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Out here, there were no arguments, no pressure, no expectations. Just the quiet hum of nature, the sound of your boots crunching softly against the earth.

You didn’t go far, just enough to feel like you were truly alone, away from the weight of everything you’d been carrying. You found a small clearing, the sun filtering through the leaves in soft beams, and you sank down onto a fallen log, finally letting yourself exhale.

Out here, with nothing but the wind and the trees, you felt like you could finally breathe again. The emotions you’d been holding in for so long came crashing down, and before you could stop them, the tears started to fall.

It was quiet. Peaceful. And for a little while, you allowed yourself to let go.

The sun was starting to set by the time Joel returned from patrol, his body aching from the long day. He walked toward the house, expecting to hear the familiar sounds of Rosie’s coos or your footsteps in the background. But as he approached the front door, the sight of Maria standing there, cradling Rosie in her arms, made something in his stomach drop.

Rosie stirred in Maria’s arms, her tiny face scrunching up as if sensing the tension in the air. Joel’s heart raced, and he immediately scanned the area, looking for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. His brow furrowed, the unease settling deep in his gut as he stepped forward.

Tommy, who had been standing a few feet behind Maria, crossed his arms, his expression tense as he waited for Joel to notice him. When Joel finally turned to him, there was a flicker of understanding in Tommy’s eyes, like he knew something Joel didn’t.

"Where is she?" Joel’s voice was rough, laced with a mixture of confusion and dread. His gaze darted back to Maria, then to Tommy, searching for answers.

Maria shifted her weight, carefully rocking Rosie as she spoke, her voice soft but firm. “She left earlier today. Came to me, asked if I could take care of Rosie for a bit.”

Joel’s stomach twisted, and his mind immediately jumped to the worst. “She left? Alone?”

Maria hesitated for a moment, her eyes locking with Joel’s before she nodded. “She needed space, Joel. She didn’t say much, but… I could tell she was feeling overwhelmed. She didn’t say where she was going, just that she needed some time to herself.”

Joel’s chest tightened, and he felt the anger and fear rise up inside of him. “And you just let her go?” His voice was louder now, filled with an edge of panic. “Did she leave Jackson by herself?”

Tommy stepped forward, putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Easy, man. She’s done this before, you know that. She knows how to take care of herself.”

“But not now!” Joel snapped, shrugging off Tommy’s hand. “Not with everything that’s happened! Not with—” He stopped himself, his voice cracking as the weight of it all bore down on him. He thought of everything you’d been through, everything you hadn’t told him, and the fear that he had pushed you too far gnawed at him.

Maria spoke up again, her tone steady but understanding. “She needed a break, Joel. She’s not running away. She just needed time to think, to breathe. You know how hard things have been on her. She wouldn’t leave Rosie behind unless she trusted me to take care of her.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and he paced for a moment, his mind spinning with the endless possibilities of where you could’ve gone. His fists tightened, and he cursed under his breath. The image of you out there alone, with nothing but your thoughts and the dangers beyond Jackson’s walls, filled him with a panic he hadn’t felt in years.

Tommy, sensing Joel’s desperation, spoke quietly, trying to offer some reassurance. “We can go look for her, Joel. You know she’s probably out in the woods, where she always goes when she needs some space.”

Joel ran a hand over his face, frustration and worry etched into every line of his features. He glanced at Rosie, who was now peacefully asleep in Maria’s arms, and the sight of his daughter’s small, fragile form made his heart twist painfully.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Joel muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I shouldn’t have left her like this.”

Maria shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “This isn’t your fault, Joel. She just needed time. But she’ll be back.”

Joel swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him as the weight of everything settled on his shoulders. He glanced at Tommy; his eyes filled with a silent plea. “I’m gonna find her.”

Outside, the world felt vast and overwhelming. You wandered through the familiar paths of the woods, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions you couldn’t quite grasp. The trees stood tall and silent around you, their shadows stretching out like dark fingers, reflecting the turmoil inside your heart.

You thought of your sister, of the bond you once shared, and how her absence left a gaping hole in your life. Memories of laughter and warmth collided with the stark reality of survival in this harsh world. There was a time when everything felt different, when hope seemed tangible rather than just a flicker of light in the distance.

But now, all you could feel was the weight of responsibility pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. Rosie was a precious gift, but taking care of her felt like an insurmountable task some days. You loved her fiercely, but there were moments when the exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, the anxiety about whether you were doing enough gnawing at the edges of your mind. Would you be able to protect her? Could you give her the life she deserved in a world filled with danger and uncertainty?

You leaned against a sturdy tree, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. In the silence, you could almost hear your sister’s laughter, the way she used to tease you about everything and nothing. If she were here, she would know what to say to make things feel right again. She would tell you that you were stronger than you thought, that you could handle this, even on the toughest days.

But she wasn’t here, and the loneliness crept in, wrapping around you like a cold shroud. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing yourself, that you were more than just a mother now. You were a woman who had once fought fiercely for her own survival, for the lives of those she loved. You felt like you were at a crossroads, and you didn’t know which path to take.

As you pushed yourself off the tree and began walking again, your thoughts drifted back to Rosie. Every time you looked into her eyes, you saw hope, innocence, and a future that felt uncertain. You wanted to be the mother she deserved, to show her love and strength, but the weight of the world felt too heavy to carry alone.

You stopped again, this time looking up at the sky. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the landscape. It was beautiful and calming, a stark contrast to the chaos in your heart. You took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill your lungs, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

But just as the beauty around you began to ease your mind, the thoughts of Joel flooded back in. The way he had looked at you when you left, the pain etched into his features. You could feel the weight of his unspoken fears, his struggles, and the barriers he had built around himself. You understood that he was fighting his own demons, just as you were.

Maybe you both needed to find a way back to each other, to break through the walls that had formed between you in this chaotic world. But how could you do that when you felt so lost?

As the last rays of sun disappeared, darkness began to settle in, and a chill crept into the air. It was time to head back, back to the warmth of the home you had built with Joel and Rosie. You took one last look at the fading light, hoping that by returning, you could find a way to reconnect, to start rebuilding what had felt broken for so long.

As you made your way back through the woods, the tranquility of the setting sun was abruptly interrupted by a soft but unmistakable sound—a twig snapping underfoot, somewhere off to your right. Your heart quickened, instinctively alerting you to the potential danger lurking in the shadows.

You paused, scanning the area around you, the fading light casting long shadows among the trees. The woods felt eerily silent for a moment, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The last rays of sun slipped away, and you strained to listen, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Another sound—a branch rustling, followed by the faint crunch of leaves. You took a step back, instinctively reaching for the small knife tucked into your belt. Your breath hitched as adrenaline coursed through you, heightening your senses.

"Hello?" you called out, your voice steady despite the fear creeping in. The response was silence, thick and heavy, adding to your anxiety. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down.

Your mind raced through the possibilities. It could be an animal, or worse—another person, someone with malicious intent. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You were not helpless; you had survived this long for a reason.

You shifted your weight, ready to either fight or flee if necessary. “If you’re out there, you’d better show yourself!” you warned, your voice firm.

Suddenly, the underbrush shifted again, and a figure emerged from the trees, stepping into the dim light. Your heart dropped as recognition washed over you.

Joel emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of concern and relief, and before he could say something. You felt a rush of conflicting emotions. The comfort of seeing him clashed with the frustration that had built up over the day. “I just needed some air,” you replied defensively. “Is that a crime?” you paused, “How did you know I was here?”

Joel stepped into the clearing, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he took in the sight of you. The mix of relief and frustration on his face mirrored your own. “It’s not the first time I find you hiding” he smiled at the memory of your first encounter.

You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the memory he invoked. It was a different time, a different life when the world felt a bit less heavy. You recalled the first time you’d met Joel, crouched in the shadows of the quarantine zone, evading guards after a botched trade.

He had stumbled upon you, a rugged man with a wary gaze, just as you had thought you’d gotten away. You could still picture his surprised expression when he found you hiding behind a pile of crates. “What are you doing back here?” he had asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“Just… waiting for the right moment to slip away,” you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pounding of your heart.

“Seems like you’ve got a knack for getting into trouble,” he’d said, a hint of amusement in his tone. It had taken you aback, how this stranger could see through your bravado with just a few words.

You shook your head to push away the nostalgia, forcing your focus back to the present. “That was a long time ago,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. “Things are different now.”

“I know they are,” Joel replied, his gaze unwavering. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t take a breather sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak.”

You stood up straighter, still holding the knife but no longer on edge. “I needed to clear my head,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “I needed to feel like I could still do this. Like I’m not just—”

“Just what?” Joel interrupted, stepping closer. His voice softened, and for the first time in days, you saw the raw emotion in his eyes. “You’re more than just a mother, you know that.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you. “It doesn’t feel that way,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “I’ve lost myself, Joel. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know if I can do this—be a mother, be what Rosie needs. Be what you need.”

Joel’s face softened, and he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said, his voice low. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

You shook your head, pulling back slightly, the doubt still gnawing at you. “But it’s not the same. You were gone, and I— I handled everything, but it feels like I’m failing now. I’m not enough.”

Joel stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to cradle your face. “You’re more than enough,” he whispered, his eyes searching yours. “I know it’s been hard, and I know I haven’t been the easiest to deal with. But you’ve been strong. You’ve done more than anyone could ask. And you don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not to me, not to Paul, not to yourself.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability and exhaustion finally catching up to you. “I just… I just wanted to remember who I was before all of this. Before I became—”

Joel cut you off, his voice soft but firm. “You haven’t lost who you are. You’re still you, just… more. More love, more strength, more everything.”

His words hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. The knife slipped from your hand, falling to the ground with a soft thud. You reached up, covering your face with your hands as the tears came, the weight of everything finally crashing down on you.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you cried into his chest, his hands running gently through your hair. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

For the first time in a long time, you believed him.

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, you pulled back, wiping your eyes. Joel looked at you with such tenderness, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded.

Joel leaned in, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if he was asking for permission. You held your breath, feeling the tension in the air shift, charged with an unspoken understanding. Then, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours gently.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant but filled with a warmth that spread through you like sunlight breaking through the clouds. You melted against him, feeling the weight of the world start to lift as you leaned into his embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “There’s that spark I’ve been missing,” he whispered, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You chuckled softly, feeling a mixture of relief and affection.

“I love you,” Joel said, his voice earnest and filled with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything—everything I’ve done, everything I’ve said that made you feel alone. You deserve so much more than I’ve given you.”

His admission hung in the air, and you could feel your heart swell at his words. “You’re the reason I’m alive, Joel,” you replied softly. “I don’t think I would have made it this far without you. You gave me hope when I thought I had lost it all.”

He shook his head, his eyes glistening with sincerity. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You saved me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. You brought light back into my life when all I felt was darkness.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you felt the tears welling up again. “We saved each other, Joel. This isn’t just you. We’re in this together, and we always will be.”

He smiled, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his expression. “Together, then,” he said, the weight of his past starting to lift as he looked into your eyes.

Joel leaned in once more, capturing your lips in a more passionate kiss, filled with the promise

“Just promise me you won’t go hiding again,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You laughed lightly, a sound that felt foreign but welcomed. “Deal. I’ll try to stay where you can find me.”

“Good,” he replied, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Now, let’s get back to our girl before she thinks we’ve run off to join the circus.”

You chuckled at the thought, the tension that had hung over you both starting to fade. “I think she’d prefer a home-cooked meal over a circus,” you said, feeling lighter as you linked your arm with his.

“Home-cooked meals it is, then,” Joel agreed, guiding you back through the trees, the path familiar beneath your feet. “And maybe some ice cream for dessert. I think we’ve earned it.”

As you walked, hand in hand, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, a sense of hope that had been absent for far too long. The forest around you seemed to come alive, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, echoing the newfound peace settling within you.

You reached the edge of the woods, the lights of Jackson glowing softly in the distance, and as you stepped back into that familiar world, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

With a smile, you glanced up at Joel, and in that moment, you realized that home wasn’t just a place—it was wherever the two of you were together. “Let’s go home,” you said, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

“Yeah,” Joel replied, his expression softening as he looked at you. “Home.”

Tags 💌: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods @somedayheaven @bambisweethearts @joelsteinfeld @guelyury @biapascal @picketniffler @mrsyixingunicorn10 @httpvomitello @kulekehe @callmecath1 @persephone-girl @colmiillo @pedroswife69 @keileighr @capswife @fallout-girl219 @sullyselena @cymbalta-slut @my-tearsricochet

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blackbirdie1234 · 11 months ago

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Paul's Imprint

What being Paul’s imprint would be like.

A/N: Not proofread. Hope you guys enjoy this and let me know if you would like me to do the other pack members or the Cullens(what being their mates/bloodsingers would be like). I really appreciate all of the likes and reposts! Thank you all so much and I am glad you like my fics :)

Being Paul’s imprint would require A LOT of patience.

He has a soft spot for you, so his anger wouldn’t be taken out on you or directed much toward you, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t see his bad side. When someone in the pack pisses him off he usually gets upset and phases. They fight it out, and then he comes home. He is either still upset or wants serious attention. If it’s the former expect some attitude and him taking it out on basically everything else but you. He might be aggressive with things, slamming things down and being loud. You would probably need to give him some time to cool off some more before trying to comfort him. If it’s the latter then you will have to have a cuddle session, his favorite position is laying in the bed or couch with his head in your chest and you playing with his hair and talking about your day. Your voice soothes him and calms him down, so he likes it when you talk to him. He could care less what you talk about, you could tell him about your day, or how much you hate that one girl in your math class because she chews gum loudly, you could literally talk about anything and he would be content.

Being Paul’s imprint means a lot of love and affection.

When he isn’t on patrol, he is with you. He will be on you and hugging you all of the time. Now if you have trauma with affection or just don't like to be touched he would 100% respect your boundaries, but he would try and find small ways to show and get affection. Like holding your hand or even just touching his pinky against yours when you are next to each other. He would find ways that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable and was still getting his needs met. He doesn’t mind showing his affection in front of others either, he could give less of a fuck if the pack teases him. He loves you and doesn’t care who knows it. At the beginning of your relationship, he was very careful, learning what you liked and what you disliked. He was also very subtle with his affection but he still craved it just as much as he does now. He would softly play with the hair on the back of your head while talking by the fire, small and soft touches here and there, he would DEFINITELY do that thing where guys softly touch your waist while moving behind you.

Being Paul's imprint means you would spend a lot of time with the other imprints.

You would probably be close with the other imprints. Having a werewolf boyfriend isn’t exactly normal. You might feel alone or lost a bit in the beginning. Paul was one of the first to phase, which means you most likely were also one of the first imprints. Especially if you knew Paul before the transition. Emily was one of the first imprints you met, she was so sweet and welcoming to you, and your bond turned into a sibling relationship. She treated you like family right away and made sure you knew that you were always welcome. You met the others as they became a part of the family and now you spend a lot of your time with them. You do a bunch of group things together, shopping, baking, cooking, movie nights, and of course bonfires. You all enjoy each other's company. The boys are on patrol a lot and it helps everyone get their minds off of missing them.

Being Paul’s imprint means late-night texts and calls.

Again, the boys are on patrol any time of the day or night. When Paul takes the night shift he makes sure to update you and let you know that he is safe. He is also expecting the same from you. He misses your voice, especially when your schedule gets busy and you can’t see each other as much. Sometimes he’s able to slip away for a second to see you, give you a hug and a kiss and then he is back out patrolling. He does it more often if he is patrolling near your house, mainly so he can do it quickly before Sam notices that he is missing and makes him come back.

Being Paul’s imprint means he is VERY protective of you.

He is already a protective person, it doesn’t matter if it is his friend, family, or even a stranger. He will take a bullet for someone he doesn’t know, it’s just in his nature. For you on the other hand, he would take that bullet and then hunt the person who shot it down until they beg you for forgiveness for even daring to THINK about hurting you, all the while he is still bloody and hurt. His protectiveness also correlates with his jealousy. He is a very jealous person when he is in a relationship. Even though you are his imprint he still can’t help but let the green-eyed monster loose whenever another person hits on you or checks you out. He knew you were hot, but you were for his eyes only. Being a werewolf means having to control your anger, but Paul was never really good at that, so most of the time it was you who had to calm him down. You didn’t want your boyfriend to maul someone, especially not in public. You were the only person who could calm him down fully, you would reach for him with your soft touch and everything else would fade away. Sometimes all you had to do was give him a stern look and he would cool himself off not wanting to make you upset. It bothered you sometimes how angry he would get, you tell him all the time that he is the only one for you and he has nothing to worry about but he still lets his jealousy get in the way of reasoning.

#twilight #twilight imagine #twilight saga #new moon #the twilight saga #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #twilight wolves #twilight wolfpack #wolf pack #jacob black #embry call #embry call imagine #embry call x reader #sam uley #vampire

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capuccinodoll · 22 days ago

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Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter seven ♡

Summary: Joel's mind is a stormy place. WC: 14.5k A/N: Hope this part finds u well <3 remember that I no longer use the tag list, and if you want to receive notifications you can activate them on this blog or on capuccinodollupdates. Thank you for your lovely messages and comments, don't forget to leave feedback, it helps and motivates me a lot! love u <3

Joel met you on the night of your your twenty-second birthday, at a small, slightly chaotic party your friend Cassie had put together in her dimly lit apartment. It was one of those nights where the air felt like it held a secret, but Joel wasn’t planning to go. He didn’t know Cassie, or you, and the idea of spending an evening with Brianna’s friends felt more like an obligation than anything resembling fun. But Brianna had that way about her, the kind of charm that made saying no feel almost impossible.

“Come on, it'll be fun,” she’d said, her fingers brushing against his cheek in that practiced, easy way of hers. Her eyes sparkled, soft but insistent. “And I want you to meet everyone.”

Everyone turned out to be Cassie, her boyfriend Freddie, Paul, Paul’s younger sister Iris, and you. He didn’t know much about you, but Brianna filled in the gaps as she rifled through her purse for something or other.

“Well, it’s her birthday,” she said, glancing up with a small smile. “I told you about her—Cassie’s best friend from way back. It’s at her place.”

Joel frowned. “I don’t even have a gift. What am I supposed to bring? What does your friend likes?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered,” Brianna said, already moving on to another task, as if his presence at this party were a foregone conclusion.

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, watching her with the sort of resignation that felt familiar by now. “I’ll feel out of place,” he murmured.

“You won’t,” she said, dismissive, like it wasn’t even a possibility. “Do it for me, Joel. Then we’ll go to that bar you like after, okay?”

And so he found himself standing, shaking his head but moving toward the bedroom anyway. He picked up the phone to call Tommy, wanting to check on Sarah. It was always like this—this invisible tether that pulled at him, the need to make sure she was safe, that she wasn’t lonely or scared. Sarah’s nanny had quit a few weeks ago, and the new one, while kind, was still a stranger in their world. Joel had made it clear to everyone he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than kindness toward his daughter, but still, worry clung to him like a second skin.

When he left the house, Sarah had been curled up on the couch with her fruit and a movie, looking happy enough. He tried to focus on that image, tried to let it soothe the part of him that always itched with concern. But the worry followed him, up the stairs and into Cassie’s apartment.

The apartment was small, warm with the low buzz of conversation and the flickering light of candles Cassie had scattered around. Brianna took his hand, leading him through introductions. Smiles, nods, the blur of names until they got to you.

You were perched on the armrest of a couch where Cassie sat, and the first thing he noticed was the way your gaze landed on him—sharp, assessing, like he wasn’t quite what you’d expected or wanted. Something tight curled in his chest, an instinct he didn’t know how to name. You didn’t say much, just offered a polite, somewhat distant smile when Brianna pulled you into a quick hug. Your eyes were tired, your posture restrained, your hands folded neatly in your lap like you were holding something in.

Joel noticed the way your shirt hugged your frame, the soft sheen of your black stockings, the way your legs crossed at the ankle like you were trying to make yourself smaller. He didn’t like how quickly he cataloged all these details—how automatic it felt, like he was breaking some unspoken rule. He nodded politely, offering a faint smile, and then stepped back, unsure how else to exist in this moment.

He stayed on the edges after that, with Brianna attached to his side, her hand slipping under his collar, her lips brushing against his temple in a way that felt like it was meant to remind him he belonged to her. But Joel couldn’t stop noticing you. The way your eyes flickered away whenever Brianna leaned into him. The barely perceptible shift in your shoulders when Cassie started recounting some story about your last birthday. Like the whole night was built on a kind of friction you were trying not to let show.

Joel wasn’t sure why, but the sight of you unsettled him. Maybe it was the way you carried your discomfort so carefully, as if you didn’t want to ruin the party. Or maybe it was because he knew that feeling so well. That ache of being somewhere you didn’t entirely want to be, surrounded by people who didn’t really see you.

At some point in the evening, Joel felt the weight of it all—Brianna’s hand on his arm, the too-loud laughter from the living room, the vague pull of unease he couldn’t shake. He shifted, leaning away from Brianna’s touch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone lined with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, a little too sharply. “I’m just gonna check on Sarah. Be back in a sec.”

He disentangled himself from her and headed for the kitchen, his hand fishing for his phone in his pocket. As he closed the door behind him, the sudden quiet felt like stepping into a different world. The party was still humming on the other side, but here, in the stillness, he could breathe.

He unlocked his phone and scrolled through the messages from Sarah’s nanny. They weren’t dire—just updates about Sarah refusing to sleep and crying because her movie had ended. Joel sighed, his stomach knotting anyway. Late nights made Sarah clingier, her emotions harder to soothe, and he hated not being there.

He typed out a hurried reply: Put the movie back on. She’ll probably drift off in a few minutes. If not, call me—I’ll go back home.

From the living room, someone shouted, karaoke. The cheer that followed was met by Joel’s quiet relief at being tucked away in the kitchen. He let out a breath, leaning against the counter, when the door creaked open.

You stepped in, freezing mid-motion when you noticed him. For a moment, you just stared, your expression shifting from surprise to something softer. The tension Joel had sensed in you earlier seemed to have dissolved in this quieter space.

He straightened instinctively, a faint warmth rising to his face.

“Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice a little uneven. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier—”

You waved him off with a small smile, interrupting. “No worries. Thanks.”

There was something about the way you carried yourself in the quiet that Joel found disarming. The edges of your earlier wariness had softened, and for the first time, he saw you for more than a glance. You were calm, reflective, maybe a little tired—but there was something else, something Joel couldn’t quite place.

He searched your face for a hint, for the thing that had inexplicably drawn his attention from the moment he saw you. But it eluded him, like trying to name a feeling he didn’t yet understand. He liked you—he realized that much instantly. And not just for the way you looked; you were beautiful, that much was clear. It was something deeper, more intangible. Something that felt a little bit dangerous to analyze, something he could discover if he allowed himself the time... and he couldn't. What was he thinking?

Joel left that night without saying much else. Every time Brianna suggested they meet up again—usually with you in attendance—he found a reason to decline. Polite, noncommittal excuses. Work, Sarah, tiredness. It didn’t matter. The truth was, he wasn’t sure why the idea of seeing you again felt impossible, only that it did.

It wasn’t long before things with Brianna unraveled. They hadn’t been falling apart so much as they’d never truly held together. Their conversations ran on parallel tracks that never quite met; their connection relied on superficial agreements that felt thinner every time they spoke. The breakup came naturally, quietly—no grand argument or dramatic gesture, just a mutual fading. Joel knew it was for the best.

He told himself that the timing wasn’t right for anything serious. Not with Sarah so young, not with the weight of his responsibilities pulling him in every direction. Dating, he decided, wasn’t a part of his life right now. His world revolved around work and his daughter. There was no room for anything else.

That’s why he didn’t expect to see you again.

But then came that Saturday afternoon. Joel stood outside his house, his chest heavy with the tightness of panic, his breath caught in the raw edge of fear. Sarah was nowhere to be found. She had been playing hide-and-seek, though he hadn't known the game had begun... Apparently. His heart thudded in his chest as he drew closer. And then, the sun caught your face, illuminating every angle, softening the edges. You were holding a bundle of plastic flowers (why? he had no idea), their bright colors clashing with the quiet confidence in your smile.

“Joel,” you said, your voice light, like the beginning of a melody. And there it was—the unmistakable spark of recognition in your eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted you to remember him until that moment, when you did.

He nodded, trying to muster an air of casual indifference, even as something in his chest shifted, calmed.

“Hey,” he said, the word almost too small to hold the sudden rush of feelings he wasn’t ready to name.

How could he name the feeling? The space between the last beat of his heart before he saw your face again and the next was a quiet, breathless eternity—because from that moment on, you would be the reason behind every quickened pulse, every ache and swell in his chest.

That afternoon passed like a blur. Sarah had invited you to stay for dinner before Joel even had a chance to think, let alone object. The meal was simple—chicken, vegetables, and bread that Sarah insisted she’d “helped cook.” You’d laughed, the sound light and warm, and Joel found himself watching you more than he should have. You didn’t seem to notice the way his eyes lingered when you reached for a plate or tucked your hair behind your ear. If you did, you didn’t let on.

Two weeks later, you had dinner again, but this time Joel introduced you to his brother. And all those things that passed you by, Tommy picked up on instantly, impossible to ignore the unmistakable attitude of his smitten brother. And after you’d left his home, he leaned back in his chair and gave Joel a look that was all knowing smirk.

“So,” Tommy drawled, leaning back with an almost smug ease, “are you finally gonna ask her out, or are we stuck with this whole pining routine forever?”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand over the back of his neck. The movement was unsteady, betraying the heat rising to his face despite his effort to appear unaffected.

“I dunno,” he muttered, his voice low and hesitant. “Not sure she—”

Tommy cut him off with a loud snort, shaking his head in disbelief. “She would, you idiot. Of course, she’d say yes.”

Joel looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met his brother’s. He searched for any trace of teasing, waiting for Tommy to give himself away. But there was none. His younger brother’s expression was steady, his confidence unshakable.

“Go ask her now,” Tommy said, his tone nudging toward playful but still earnest. “She’s probably still awake. Probably thinking about you, you know.”

Joel let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if to brush off the suggestion. “Oh, knock it off. I’ll ask her, alright? Just… when the time’s right. Not now.”

Tommy rolled his eyes dramatically, but he didn’t press the matter further. He knew Joel well enough to understand when to let things lie.

Joel, however, wasn’t brushing it off as easily as he seemed. He would ask you. Someday. Just not yet.

But that day—the day he’d finally say something—never seemed to come.

The more time Joel spent with you, the harder it became to imagine risking the delicate balance of what you already had. You fit so seamlessly into his life, into Sarah’s life. It felt natural, effortless. You’d come over for dinner, sharing stories around the table that made Sarah giggle and Joel’s chest feel a little lighter. Sometimes, you’d sit on the porch with him as Sarah played in the yard, her laughter echoing in the quiet evenings. Joel trusted you with his daughter in a way he trusted almost no one, a rare kind of faith he didn’t extend easily.

Your presence turned ordinary days into something brighter. There was a comfort in your company, a quiet joy in the small moments you shared—your easy laughter, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him or Sarah, the unspoken understanding that passed between you. Those moments felt like tiny gifts, precious and irreplaceable.

But weeks turned into months, and every time Joel built up the nerve to say something, doubt crept in and stopped him. What if it changed everything? What if you didn’t feel the same way? Or worse—what if you did, but things didn’t work out? The thought of losing the quiet, steady friendship you’d built, the one that had come to mean more to him than he’d ever anticipated, was unbearable.

Eventually, Joel convinced himself that friendship was enough. And in a way, it wasn’t a lie. He truly was happy in your presence, content with the moments you shared. He told himself he could live with the unspoken, that he didn’t need anything more.

But sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and the world felt still, his mind would wander. He’d think about the way your smile lingered when you thought no one was watching or the way your laugh seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace. In those moments, he couldn’t deny the truth buried deep inside him: he wanted more.

Still, he decided it was safer to push those feelings away, to bury them deep where they couldn’t surface. And so he did. He buried them so well, smothered them so completely, that he nearly convinced himself they were gone. Until, somehow, he forgot they were even there.

Well, he’d managed to bury it—convince himself it was gone—until that night, when everything shifted.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Not really. Somewhere deep down, a quiet voice had always been whispering the truth to him, persistent and patient. But Joel had ignored it, pushed it aside like an overdue bill he didn’t have the energy to deal with, telling himself he’d face it another day. And yet now, there it was, no longer subtle or ignorable, staring him in the face with a weight that felt impossible to avoid.

Because deep down, Joel had always known that if the two of you crossed that invisible line—if he let himself take even one step past the boundary you’d built—nothing would ever be the same. It wasn’t the intimacy itself that gave him pause. Joel wasn’t afraid of touching you, of holding you close, or of sharing the kind of closeness he’d once told himself he didn’t need. That wasn’t it. What unsettled him, what gripped him with both exhilaration and dread, was the certainty that after that moment, he’d never be able to step back. He’d never be able to pull away from you, not in the way he had before, not in the way he’d convinced himself he could. Because once he gave in—once he let himself have you, even for a moment—Joel knew with startling clarity that he’d never recover. You wouldn’t just be part of his life anymore; you’d become part of the very center of it. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

And then, he met Sienna. She entered his life at a time when he had successfully buried those feelings for you so deep that they rarely surfaced anymore, their edges dulled by time and avoidance. Her arrival was almost perfectly timed, slipping into the space he’d created in his effort to distance himself from emotions he hadn’t dared confront. And it wasn’t just convenience; he genuinely liked her. She wasn’t a substitute or a stand-in for something unresolved. She was her own person, someone who caught his attention and managed to hold it, filling his brief days with her with a kind of lightness he enjoyed. But, she wasn't you.

Sienna, with her warm smile and quick laugh, who was easy to like and even easier to spend time with. She was smart, kind, and effortlessly beautiful, the kind of woman who made you feel comfortable in your own skin. He’d met her one morning at the bank, a serendipitous encounter that had led, improbably, to him asking her out. It had surprised even him—Joel Miller, diving headfirst into something for once, emboldened by a rare flash of courage.

The first date had been pleasant. A simple dinner, unpretentious conversation, and laughter that lingered. When he got home, he’d felt good—content, even. Tommy had stayed to watch Sarah, and Joel hadn’t mentioned the date to you. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. Just one night out, nothing more. Not worth bringing up. But later, as he lay awake in bed, the quiet of the house pressing in around him, he felt it—the faint, prickling weight of guilt. It wasn’t sharp or overwhelming, just a subtle ache that settled low in his chest, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

The second date was even better. Dinner had been just as easy as the first, and afterward, they’d gone to see a movie. Sitting in the dim theater, their shoulders brushing occasionally, Joel had felt a faint sense of familiarity, a hint of comfort that he didn’t expect. When Sienna invited him in for coffee after she’d smiled at him in that warm, open way of hers, Joel hesitated. Something inside him pulled back, and though his refusal was polite, it wasn’t just about needing to get home to Sarah. It was something else, something he couldn’t name.

On the drive back, his mind wandered. Passing your house, he noticed the soft glow of light spilling from your window and, for a moment, considered stopping by. Maybe he could sit with you for a while, let you bring some clarity to the restless thoughts swirling in his head. You always had a way of calming him, grounding him, even when you didn’t know he needed it. But he didn’t. Instead, he went home, crawled into bed, and left the lamp on as he drifted to sleep. Yet, even in those moments before sleep took him, thoughts of you tugged persistently at the edges of his mind.

By the third date, doubt had begun to creep in. Joel found himself questioning why he hadn’t told you about Sienna. Why he was keeping it to himself, why it felt so unsettling. It wasn’t as if you’d judge him, he told himself. If anything, you’d probably encourage him, tell him he deserved to be happy, that he should give it a real chance. That was who you were—supportive, unselfish.

But the thought of you knowing made something twist in his chest. It felt wrong, somehow, like it would shift the delicate balance between you. Admitting it to you felt too final, as though saying it aloud would confirm that he was searching for something else, something permanent, and he wasn’t ready for you to know that. He couldn’t untangle the knot of emotions tightening inside him, couldn’t put words to the unease that crept in whenever Sienna smiled at him or touched his arm. All he knew was that no matter how good things seemed with her, thoughts of you were never far behind.

Then came his birthday. You’d confronted him that night, quiet and firm, catching him off guard with your piercing gaze and steady voice.

“Why would you lie to me?” you’d asked, your tone a mixture of hurt and bewilderment. “We're friends. Why wouldn't you tell me you're seeing someone?”

And just like that, the truth he’d been avoiding stood between you, unspoken but undeniable.

You cornered him, and he didn’t handle it well. The anger Joel felt in that moment wasn’t just irrational—it was childish, unfair, the kind of emotion he’d scold Sarah for if it came from her. But it rose inside him, stubborn and hot, because deep down, Joel felt as though he was betraying you. The thought alone unsettled him; it was absurd. You weren’t his, and yet, the idea of you holding that kind of sway over him—being able to tilt the axis of his decisions—left him feeling exposed, furious. He knew, with unsettling clarity, that if you asked him to leave Sienna, he would. That realization burned, not just because of the power you held over him but because he was certain it wasn’t mutual. At least, he thought so.

“I know you too well to know you’re just jealous,” he spat, the words sharp and venomous, aimed more at himself than at you. He hated the way his own insecurities betrayed him, how they shaped the bitterness in his tone. The accusation was hypocritical; he knew that better than anyone.

The month before, when you casually mentioned that Travis had asked you out, Joel felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. Your tone was so light, so unaffected, that it caught him off guard, knocking the air out of his lungs. His reaction was instant and visceral, jealousy surging like a tidal wave and gripping his chest in a vice. The mocking laugh that escaped him wasn’t intentional—it was sharp and bitter, a reflex from the worst parts of himself. Out of all the men in town, why him? The sting of it still lingered, the memory sharp and vivid.

Three years ago, Joel had first met Travis Dunn on a scorching Sunday afternoon. The kind of day where the sun bore down relentlessly, turning the air into a suffocating blanket of heat and making every movement feel sluggish. Joel was outside his house, organizing tools in the back of his truck, more out of habit than necessity, while the hours stretched long and slow.

Two houses down, across the street, Travis was in his yard, wrestling with an overgrown bush that refused to yield. Joel had noticed him before—a new face in the neighborhood—but they’d never spoken. Deciding to introduce himself, Joel grabbed a rag to wipe his hands and wandered over, his shoes crunching against the dry grass.

Travis straightened when he saw Joel approach, leaning on his shovel with an easy, welcoming smile despite the oppressive heat.

“That’s real kind of you, Joel,” Travis said after Joel offered to help, his voice friendly and conversational. “But I’m just about done here. Damn Texas sun’s brutal, though. Still tryin’ to get used to it.”

Joel chuckled, nodding in understanding as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, it’s a killer. You get used to it after a while. Been working outside my whole life—kinda got the skin for it now. But if you ever need a hand, I’ve got the tools. Sometimes even the time.”

Travis nodded, brushing damp hair back from his forehead, and smiled sideways, an idea forming in his mind. “Actually, there is something.”

Joel tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Travis hesitated only a moment before blurting out your name as an invocation of the terrible, and the mention of you froze Joel’s easy smile in place, turning it into something tight and forced.

“You’re close to her, aren’t you?” Travis continued, his tone almost playful. “She’s something else. So sweet, beautiful too.”

Joel forced himself to nod, his voice flat. “That she is.”

“I like her,” Travis admitted, a nervous laugh bubbling up as he spoke, oblivious to Joel’s growing tension.

"No shit." His voice was low, flat.

“I mean, I was relieved when I realized you two were just friends. For a while there, I thought you might be, y’know, together.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “What made you think that?”

“The way you act around her, and the way she acts around you,” Travis said with a shrug. “You’re together a lot. I dunno, it just... felt like a thing.”

Joel didn’t respond, but the silence between them thickened.

Travis, either unaware or unconcerned, grinned and added, “Anyway, you might wanna watch yourself, man," he said with a smug grin. "If you're not careful enough, I might just swoop in and take her off your hands forever. And trust me, I don’t do refunds—especially not with something as gorgeous as her."

Something snapped inside Joel. The casual arrogance in Travis’s tone, the smug smile—it was too much. He stepped closer, his posture rigid. Something as gorgeous, he said? Who did he think he was, strutting up and talking to him with all the confidence in the world, like they were old friends or something?

“What did you just say?” Joel’s voice was low, the Southern drawl sharpening into something dangerous.

The grin faded from Travis’s face, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Oh, sorry—”

"Y’ain’t gonna get anywhere near her with those words, Dunn," Joel growled, his voice low and thick with anger, his strong southern accent accentuating with emotion. "You better watch your damn mouth 'fore I show you what it really means to cross a line."

"No, listen—"

"No," Joel cut him off, stepping even closer. "You listen here, boy. You think you can talk about her like she’s some kinda prize to be won? Like she’s just sittin’ ‘round waitin’ for some fool like you to come swoopin’ in and steal her away? You’re downright dumb if you think you can underestimate her like that—like she’s some kinda damn manipulable thing you can just twist ‘round your finger."

“Joel, I didn’t mean—”

“You stay away from her,” Joel warned, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You hear me?”

Travis’s hands went up in surrender, his expression wary. “Alright, alright. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Joel stared him down for another beat, his jaw tight, before turning on his heel and walking away. His fists were clenched, heat simmering in his chest long after the confrontation ended.

For a while after, Travis kept his distance, careful not to overstep again. But three years later, when he reappeared, asking you out as if that encounter had never happened, Joel was flooded with a familiar anger—and something else. The possessiveness he thought he’d buried roared back to life, impossible to ignore.

“Why don’t you like him?” you had asked Joel that afternoon, your voice laced with curiosity as you leaned against the counter, watching him with that determined look that always made him feel like there was no escape. He had just scoffed at Travis invitation, brushing it off like it was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever heard.

Joel barely paused before spinning his answer, sharp and dismissive.

“I just don’t like the guy,” he said, his tone gruff. His hand reached for the coffee mug on the table, more to occupy himself than because he needed another sip.

You didn’t let it go, of course. You crossed your arms, head tilted, waiting for something more.

“He’s... weird,” Joel added with a shrug, avoiding your gaze. “Something about him rubs me the wrong way.”

That was a lie, and he knew it. The truth was more complicated, and Joel hated complicated. He didn’t like Travis because the guy seemed too perfect, too slick, the type who could charm everyone in the neighborhood without even trying. Worse, Travis hadn’t done anything genuinely wrong, and Joel knew it. Hell, he wasn’t even all that bad of a guy—just the kind who could make you laugh, who could say the right things at the right time. And Joel? He wasn’t about to admit that every quip and joke Travis threw your way felt like a punch to his gut.

The real problem was simpler, though Joel would never say it out loud: he didn’t want Travis—or anyone—getting close to you. Because deep down, he was terrified that if someone did, you’d start to drift away from him. Slowly, naturally, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He could already picture it—the quiet evenings you two spent together fading into quick hellos and polite smiles as your life began to revolve around someone else.

And Joel wasn’t sure he could handle that.

You didn’t make it easy for him, either. You’d always talked to him about your boyfriends—there weren’t many, but enough to leave a mark. He listened like the good friend he was supposed to be, his face calm and unreadable. He even gave you advice sometimes, measured and practical, and he pretended to be relieved when things didn’t work out. But the truth? He was selfish. He couldn’t deny the ugly twist in his stomach every time you lit up talking about someone new.

The worst part was the details. You shared everything—how they made you feel, the way they looked at you, the tiny, romantic gestures that made your heart race. Joel would sit there, nodding along, while his insides churned. Sometimes, he was almost convinced you did it on purpose, like you wanted to poke at the feelings he’d buried so deep. But then he’d shake that thought away because it couldn’t be true. You didn’t see him like that.

Still, the possessiveness lingered, and it wasn’t one-sided. Whenever Joel mentioned a woman he was seeing, your posture would stiffen ever so slightly. He noticed the way your smile faltered, the way you suddenly seemed distracted. Joel kept his descriptions vague, never giving you the kind of vivid details you offered him. At first, he found a strange satisfaction in your reactions. If it bothered you that much to imagine him with someone else, maybe—just maybe—you felt the same way he did.

But then you’d start listing their flaws with pinpoint accuracy, dissecting them in a way that left him wondering if you had a secret playbook for unraveling his attempts at romance. And you were always right. Every critique you made landed, exposing cracks he’d tried to ignore, as though you saw right through his attempts to prove he had control over his feelings.

It frustrated him, how easily you could tear down the façade he worked so hard to build. Yet a small part of him—a selfish, conflicted part—was glad. Because it meant you were paying attention, and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to lose him either.

Sienna had taken him by surprise. She was unlike anyone Joel had encountered in a long time, and that unfamiliarity left him unsure how to talk about her—especially to you. He knew you were angry, and he couldn’t blame you. You had every right to feel shut out. Still, Joel couldn’t help but dig in his heels. His life was his own, and no matter how close you two were, some things felt too personal to share.

Yet, despite his stubbornness, the guilt lingered like a low hum in the back of his mind. He couldn’t stop replaying that night, the one you had so carefully planned, the kind of evening he usually dreaded but had come to cherish since you had entered his life.

It had been just the three of you: Sarah, you, and him. Tommy had bailed last minute, caught up in some errand or chore Joel couldn’t even remember now. But Tommy’s absence hadn’t dampened the warmth of the evening. It was perfect in its simplicity. Everything Joel loved most in the world sat around that small kitchen table, the faint glow of the overhead light softening the edges of the moment.

Joel wasn’t big on birthdays. He never had been, and neither were you, which was probably one of the reasons you understood him so well. For him, it was complicated. As a kid, he’d get excited—what child wouldn’t? But as he grew older, birthdays became a cruel reminder of time slipping away, of how life only seemed to grow more complicated with each passing year.

The last time he had truly enjoyed the day was the year Sarah was born. He could still picture it vividly, like a snapshot preserved in his mind. He and Amelia had been newly married, their relationship rocky but held together by the promise of their daughter. Their apartment was small, the wallpaper peeling in the corners, but that night, none of it mattered.

Amelia had baked him a cake. It wasn’t anything fancy—a bit uneven, with frosting that leaned to one side—but Joel had loved it all the same. She had dimmed the lights and sung "Happy Birthday" softly, her voice barely above a whisper as he held Sarah in his arms. Joel blew out the single candle with a quiet wish: that this fragile moment of happiness might last forever.

After cake, he had sunk onto the couch, Sarah nestled against him, her rhythmic breathing lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’d ever had.

Joel hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, Amelia was shaking him gently awake, her fingers brushing against his cheek.

“Come on, Joel,” she’d murmured. “Go to bed. You’ve got work in the morning.”

The next morning, Joel was stirred from sleep by the sound of Sarah’s crying. It was sharp and persistent, cutting through the fog of his exhaustion like a knife. His eyes fluttered open reluctantly, his body heavy with the weight of another long day ahead. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as the cries continued, loud and unrelenting. Something felt off, though he couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Amelia?” he called out groggily, his voice rough from sleep.

There was no response. The silence, save for Sarah’s escalating wails, gnawed at the edges of his unease. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Joel sat up, running a hand down his face as if to wipe away the lingering haze of sleep. His chest felt tight, a faint, inexplicable tension coiling there.

Pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled toward Sarah’s crib in the corner of the room. She was red-faced and wriggling, her tiny fists flailing in frustration. Joel bent down, scooping her up with the practiced ease of a man who had done this many times before.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured softly, rocking her gently against his chest. Her cries tapered off for a moment, replaced by hiccuping gasps, but it didn’t last. Soon enough, the wails returned, sharper and more insistent.

Joel recognized the sound immediately—it was hunger. The kind of cry that pierced through everything else, demanding attention. He adjusted her in his arms, cradling her close as he moved toward the kitchen.

“Amelia?” he called out again, louder this time, his voice tinged with irritation and concern.

Still no answer. His eyes scanned the dimly lit apartment, searching for any sign of his wife. That’s when he saw it—a piece of paper sitting on the kitchen table. Bright yellow, stark against the dark wood, it seemed out of place, almost glaring in the soft morning light.

Joel’s stomach twisted. A sinking feeling settled deep within him, heavy and cold. Shifting Sarah in his arms, he stepped closer, his boots creaking softly against the worn floorboards.

The note was short—just five lines scribbled hastily in Amelia’s familiar handwriting. Joel’s eyes moved over the words, his heart pounding in his chest as he read them.

She was gone.

The words blurred for a moment as the meaning sank in. She was gone. Amelia had left, abandoning both him and Sarah with nothing more than a half-hearted apology. The note was filled with excuses: This life isn’t for me. I need something more. I’m sorry. I can’t keep lying to myself. I can’t do this anymore.

Joel’s hand tightened around the paper, crumpling it as Sarah’s cries rose again, loud and demanding. The sound seemed to echo in the hollow space inside him, amplifying the storm that had begun to rage in his chest.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury. He tossed the crumpled paper onto the floor, watching it roll to a stop near the edge of the table.

The anger came fast and hard, crashing over him like a wave. It wasn’t sadness he felt—not yet. It was anger, raw and consuming. Anger that Amelia had been so cowardly, so selfish. She had left a note, five lines scrawled on a piece of paper, and walked away without looking back.

His fists clenched at his sides as his jaw tightened. She hadn’t just abandoned him—that, he could handle. Their marriage had been strained for a long time, both of them going through the motions more out of necessity than love. But Sarah? She had left their baby.

How could she walk away from their daughter, from the tiny life they had created together? Joel’s thoughts spiraled, his mind racing through every moment he had tried to make things work, every sacrifice he had made to ensure their family had a future.

Was it his fault? Had he pushed her too hard? Or had she been looking for an escape all along?

The questions churned in his mind, but Joel didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on them. Sarah needed him, her cries piercing through the fog of his thoughts. He held her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he rocked her gently.

“It’s just us now, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

And in that moment, his anger hardened into resolve. He didn’t have the answers, and he didn’t have Amelia. But he had Sarah, and that was all that mattered.

From the moment Joel heard Sarah’s first cry, the sound pierced through him like a revelation, sharp and clear. In that instant, his entire world shifted. It was as though the pieces of his life, fractured and disorganized, suddenly rearranged themselves around this tiny, fragile being. Everything else fell away—the struggles, the exhaustion, even his own doubts. There was only her.

When he first held her, she felt impossibly small in his arms, her body warm and soft, her head nestled against his chest. She opened her tiny mouth, her cries quieter now but still insistent, and Joel couldn’t help but smile through the exhaustion. Her fist closed around his thumb, her fingers barely curling all the way, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

That was it. That was the moment he knew. Nothing else mattered. Not his job, not his own dreams or fears. Sarah was his purpose. She was everything, and he would do anything—everything—to protect her, to make sure she would always be safe and never want for anything.

He threw himself into work with a ferocity he hadn’t known he possessed. Early mornings turned into long nights, and he pushed through each shift with a singular thought in his mind: This is for Sarah. He dreamed of a better life for her, one where they wouldn’t have to struggle. He wanted her to grow up in a house with a backyard, not in the cramped apartment they currently called home.

But his hours away from home weighed heavily on Amelia. She spent most days cooped up in the apartment, caring for Sarah alone. Joel knew it wasn’t easy for her. He saw it in the lines of exhaustion etched into her face, the way her shoulders sagged by the end of the day.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, Joel came home to find Amelia sitting on the couch, her head resting against the back of it, her eyes closed. Sarah was asleep in her crib, the faint hum of the baby monitor the only sound in the room. Joel sat down beside her, placing a hand gently on her wrist.

"You'll see," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "Time's gonna fly by, and before we know it, she'll be runnin' around, goin' to school, talkin' our ears off. So fast, we'll wish we could turn back time and have her be a baby again."

Amelia opened her eyes, her gaze tired but sharp. “That’s easy for you to say,” she replied, her tone edged with bitterness. “You’re nobody’s barf towel, Joel. Sometimes I wish she’d grow up faster.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, like a quiet punch to the gut. Joel felt a pang of guilt and tried to see things from her perspective. He knew she was overwhelmed. He knew his long hours left her bearing the brunt of the daily grind at home. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fully understand. For him, those fleeting moments with Sarah—feeding her, rocking her to sleep, holding her tiny hand—were treasures.

“I know it’s hard,” he said after a long silence, his voice heavy with sincerity. “But we're doing this for us, for her. So we can have more. So she can have more.”

Amelia sighed and stood up, muttering something about needing a shower. Joel stayed on the couch, his head in his hands. He was doing everything he could, wasn’t he? But the cracks in their relationship were growing deeper, and he didn’t know how to fix them.

And then, a week later, she left.

Joel didn’t care that Amelia had abandoned him—not really. Their relationship had been hanging by a thread for months, maybe longer. But the fact that she had walked away from Sarah? That was something he could never understand. How could a mother leave her own child?

Everything got harder after that. Joel had to reorganize his entire life. He adjusted his shifts at work, found a nanny he could afford, and learned to function on less than two hours of sleep. Every day was a balancing act, and every night he fell into bed completely spent, knowing he’d have to do it all over again the next day.

He was alone. Completely, utterly alone. His parents were long gone, and his friends were too busy with college and their own lives to offer more than the occasional word of encouragement. Tommy tried to help, moving in with him for a while to lend a hand. But Tommy was still just a kid himself, more often getting into trouble than out of it. Sometimes it felt like Joel was raising them both.

But no matter how hard it got, Joel never wavered. Sarah was his everything, his reason for pushing forward even when it felt impossible. And when he looked at her—her tiny smile, her bright, curious eyes—it was all worth it. For her, it would always be worth it.

Why would Joel want to celebrate his birthday? For years, the date had meant nothing to him. If anything, it was a day he preferred to forget. Even Amelia’s absence, once a source of raw pain, had dulled into something distant, like an old scar that no longer ached. He was better off without her, he often told himself. Why would he want someone in his life who could abandon her own child so easily, without a second glance?

Eight long years of birthdays came and went, each one passing without fanfare. That is, until you showed up.

It was a warm afternoon when Brenda knocked on Joel’s door, Ian trailing behind her with a small red-wrapped package in his hands. You stood next to them, your bright smile lighting up the quiet entryway as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” you asked, your voice full of playful reproach. You’d only been living next door for a couple of months, but you spoke as though you’d known him far longer.

Joel shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Didn’t think it was important.” His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but the way his eyes darted to the floor betrayed the discomfort he felt about the subject.

“Well, that won’t do,” you said with a firm nod, your excitement practically radiating off you. “We have to throw you a celebration.”

Before he could protest, you’d already begun making plans, dragging Tommy—who was lounging on Joel’s couch—into your whirlwind of preparation. In what felt like record time, you had organized a small dinner in your backyard, insisting on inviting the people Joel cared about most. Brenda, Ian, and of course, Tommy, were enlisted as guests, and Sarah eagerly volunteered to help with the preparations.

The two of you spent the afternoon in your kitchen, Sarah perched on a stool as she carefully spread cream over a sponge cake. It wasn’t perfect—some spots were uneven, and the red lettering that spelled “Happy Birthday Joel” varied wildly in size—but the effort was unmistakable. You even let Sarah place the single candle right above the word “birthday,” despite her giggles about it looking “a little crooked.”

In the backyard, you strung up Christmas lights, their warm glow transforming the space into something almost magical. A flowered tablecloth adorned the table, set with colored glass plates and matching glasses. It was simple, yet charming, and as Joel stepped outside to see what you had done, he felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.

You stood there, watching him expectantly, your hands clasped together as if bracing for his reaction. Joel scanned the scene—the lights, the table, the cake—and then his gaze settled on you. He felt overwhelmed, unaccustomed to this kind of attention, to the idea that someone had gone out of their way to make him feel special.

“Do you like it?” you asked softly, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

Joel cleared his throat, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, his voice betraying a mix of gratitude and awkwardness. “It’s… it’s nice. Real nice.”

What he couldn’t say—what he didn’t know how to say—was how much it meant to him. No one had ever done something like this for him before. Sure, Tommy would swing by with a gift and some good-natured ribbing, and Sarah always crafted him heartfelt gifts, usually paired with a movie night of her choosing. But this? This was different. It wasn’t just thoughtful; it was intentional.

You had done it simply to make him happy, without expecting anything in return. And that was what stayed with him.

A few weeks later, when your birthday rolled around, Joel found himself returning the gesture. He spent the better part of the day barbecuing in his backyard, carefully grilling your favorite dishes and picking up a cake from the bakery he’d overheard you mention. He wasn’t the most expressive man, but he wanted to show you how much your efforts had meant to him.

The party was small but warm, filled with laughter and good food. Joel watched you closely, noting the way your eyes lit up when you saw the cake, the way you laughed with Sarah and Tommy, the way you seemed lighter somehow.

It was only a few days later, during a quiet evening, that you opened up about your own complicated feelings toward birthdays.

“You know,” you began, sitting on Joel’s porch with a mug of tea in your hands, “I’ve never really liked my birthday either.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah? How come?”

Your birthday was always a delicate subject, one you rarely spoke about. The day carried a weight too heavy for celebration.

When you were fourteen, just two days before your birthday, your father passed away after a year-long decline that left him a shadow of the man he had once been. Your relationship with him had never been easy. There was a distance between you, a lack of understanding that made every interaction fraught with tension. He didn’t understand you, and you couldn’t bridge the gap to reach him. So, when his illness took hold, it wasn’t just his body that deteriorated—it was also any chance of finding common ground. Watching him grow weaker day by day, his spirit worn thin, felt like mourning someone you had never truly known.

When he finally passed, it was strange. The grief was there, sharp and biting, but layered with regret, guilt, and a strange hollowness. Your mother, shattered by the loss, withdrew into her own anguish, locking herself in a grief so consuming that it swallowed her whole. She became a ghost of herself, distant and unreachable, leaving you to navigate the loss alone.

Somehow, you were left adrift. With your father gone and your mother emotionally absent, the world seemed colder. The rest of your adolescence blurred into a haze of solitude. Nights became long and heavy, filled with tears that no one heard. Birthdays, once a day of excitement, became unbearable.

“It’s not worth celebrating,” your mother had said one year, her voice hollow. “What’s the point? It’s just a reminder of what we lost.”

And you believed her. You let the day pass quietly, pretending it didn’t matter. But deep down, it did. Every year, the ache in your chest returned, as if your father’s death had marked you in ways you couldn’t escape.

When you moved to Austin, Cassie was determined to change that. She insisted on throwing you a party, bringing her friends together and decorating her small apartment with balloons and streamers. She wanted to make the day special, to give you the joy she believed you deserved. But instead of feeling included, you felt like a stranger in the crowd. The forced laughter and cheerful chatter only amplified the loneliness you carried inside.

Joel noticed it immediately. From the first glance, he saw something in you that mirrored his own quiet pain, his own complicated relationship with birthdays and loss.

With the Millers, though, it was different.

Joel had a way of pulling you out of your own head. He didn’t ask if you wanted to celebrate; he simply turned on the music, took your hand, and pulled you into the courtyard to dance.

“C’mon, don’t make me look ridiculous all by myself,” he teased, his hand warm and steady on yours.

“I’m terrible at this,” you protested, laughing despite yourself as he spun you clumsily.

“You think I’m any better?” he shot back, making an exaggerated face of concentration that sent you into a fit of giggles.

His other hand rested lightly on your waist, tickling just enough to make you squirm.

“Stop!” you laughed, swatting at him, but Joel only grinned, spinning you again until you were both dizzy and breathless.

The weight in your chest began to ease. Slowly, the familiar sadness faded, replaced by something you hadn’t felt in years—a glimmer of happiness. The music, Sarah’s laughter in the background, and Joel’s insistence on making you smile wove together into a moment so genuine that you couldn’t help but let go, even if only for a little while.

With the Millers, you felt something you hadn’t in years: belonging. Joel, Sarah, even Tommy—they made you feel like you were part of something bigger, something that mattered. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were happy. And for once, your birthday didn’t hurt.

On the afternoon of his birthday, Joel made it a point to leave work early, a rare indulgence. The day had been grueling, his body carrying the weight of hours spent hauling, lifting, and concentrating through a persistent ache in his shoulders and arms. By the time he pulled into the driveway, fatigue clung to him like a second skin.

But the moment he stepped through the door, all of that began to melt away. The warm, savory aroma of your cooking wrapped around him like a welcoming embrace, teasing his senses and making his stomach rumble in anticipation. From the kitchen, he could hear Sarah's laughter, a sound so bright and carefree it seemed to lift the heaviness in his chest. And then there was your voice—soft and melodic, weaving effortlessly into the rhythm of his home, a sound that had come to symbolize comfort itself.

He paused in the doorway for a moment, letting it all wash over him. The tension in his shoulders began to ease, his mind quieting in a way it rarely did. Home. It wasn’t just the place—it was you, Sarah, the life you all shared within these walls.

As he stepped further inside, Joel noticed something different about you that evening. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on but felt instantly. He always noticed you—more than he liked to admit. His gaze often lingered longer than it should, studying the way your lips curved when you smiled, the way your hands moved with quiet purpose, the subtle shifts in your voice when you were excited or uncertain.

Tonight, though, it was as if the world had conspired to make you glow. You wore that dress he liked, the one that clung just enough to hint at your shape without being overdone. The warm light from the kitchen seemed to catch on your flushed cheeks, making your skin look soft, almost luminous. Your hair was tied up, exposing the graceful curve of your neck and the delicate, fine hairs at its nape.

He found himself staring, his fingers itching with the desire to reach out and touch that spot just beneath your ear, to let his thumb trace the softness of your skin. He could already imagine the way it would feel, the warmth of you under his touch. But Joel stopped himself, swallowing hard and forcing his hands into his pockets.

His tongue betrayed him then. A slip—a small comment, laced with more emotion than he intended.

The three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

You didn’t seem to notice, though, your focus elsewhere. But Joel felt the heat rise in his face, a faint flush creeping over his cheeks. He turned away quickly, clearing his throat as if that could erase the moment. Joel hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice soft but heavy with emotion.

I love everything you do. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a confession, unguarded and dangerously close to exposing everything he’d tried so hard to bury.

If someone had told Joel how that night would end, he would have laughed, dismissed the thought outright. It was unthinkable, a fantasy he’d never let himself fully entertain. But as the hours unfolded, something inside him began to shift—subtle at first, like a whisper at the edge of his mind, then growing louder and more insistent.

But then came the emotions, rushing in like a storm—anger, jealousy, desire, all tangled together in a mess he couldn’t untangle. The anger was irrational, sharp and sudden, a flash of heat that burned at the thought of you smiling like that at someone else. The jealousy felt even worse, a bitter ache in his chest at the mere idea that you might one day belong to someone else, someone better than him. And the desire... it was unbearable. It had been building for so long, so quietly, that he hadn’t noticed it until it was too late to ignore.

Something broke inside him.

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

He wasn’t your type. He wasn’t your type. He wasn’t your type? The words echoed in Joel’s mind, each repetition a fresh sting to his ego and a sharper stab to his heart. But your eyes told him a different story. They mirrored his own intensity, and that unspoken connection was undeniable.

In that moment, he surrendered to an impulse he had fought to suppress countless times before. He kissed you, a kiss laden with every restrained emotion, and carried you to your room. The world around him blurred; it felt surreal, as if he were watching himself from a distance. Every sense was heightened, every touch electric, his entire being focused solely on you.

You were perfection to him. The intoxicating scent of your skin, the soft texture of your lips, the sweet taste of you—all of it was exquisite, overwhelming. When he was finally inside you, he felt as if his heart might explode from the sheer intensity of it. The warmth, the sweetness, the way it consumed him—it was almost too much to bear, almost too beautiful to be real. Every sound you made unraveled him further, pushing him closer to a peak he had thought unattainable. The desire that coursed through you felt almost tangible, as if he could taste it on his lips with every kiss.

As you drifted off to sleep beside him, your face looked so peaceful, so heartbreakingly beautiful, that Joel couldn’t resist. He leaned in, brushing the gentlest of kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids—each kiss a whisper of affection, as though trying to capture this fleeting moment. Only when the rhythm of your breaths lulled him into calm did he finally surrender to sleep at your side.

But deep in the stillness of the night, he stirred awake. His emotions, once overwhelming, had quieted; his mind, no longer softened by the haze of passion, now felt sharp and cold. And then it struck him—a suffocating wave of fear.

What had he done? What had he done? The question echoed relentlessly in his mind, each repetition laced with dread. He had crossed a line, dragging you into his chaos, disrespecting you in a way that made his stomach twist with guilt. He had shattered the bond you shared—a friendship he had held in the highest regard. He had taken something pure and irreversibly tainted it with his own selfish desires.

Panic surged through him, relentless and unforgiving. How could you ever look at him the same way again? Surely, you wouldn’t want him in your life anymore. The thought of losing you gutted him.

A storm of thoughts battered his mind as he quietly slipped out of your house like a ghost, each step feeling heavier than the last. The walk back to his own home was a blur of regret and self-recrimination. By the time he shut the door behind him, the weight of what he had done pressed down on him completely. He knew, with a sinking finality, that he had ruined everything.

He had ruined everything.

And four days later, the dagger in his chest sank even deeper.

Swallowing hard, you tasted the salt of your tears, and it burned your throat like an unwelcome reminder of the turmoil within.

“I’m not sure I can be your friend anymore, Joel,” you confessed, your voice shaking with the weight of your admission.

He shook his head, disbelief flashing across his features as a weak smile broke through the hurt. It was as if he couldn’t quite fathom the words that had just escaped you.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” you asserted, each syllable a battle against the rawness in your chest.

“No, you don’t,” he countered, stepping back just inches, his tone laced with incredulity. The mocking sneer that crept onto his face felt more like a mask than a reflection of his true feelings, and yet, the moisture pooling in his eyes betrayed the battle raging within him.

You regarded him in silence, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken words as you watched his smile fade into something that was almost painful. It twisted his features, morphing into a look of discomfort that hung between you like an unsaid apology. He remained still, his gaze locked onto yours, waiting for you to break the tension with a word or a gesture. The sight of him like that burned inside you, igniting a longing to rewind time, to swallow your questions, to let him live his life free from the weight of your curiosity and the tangled feelings that had blossomed between you. But that wasn’t an option; the reality of your situation loomed large and unavoidable. You had to confront the truth: he didn’t feel the same way about you, and for him, sleeping with you felt like a transgression, a sin, a burden he couldn’t carry.

“Joel, please,” you began, your voice cracking under the pressure of your emotions. A tear slipped down your cheek, salty and bitter, tasting of the anguish that your words carried. “I can’t be your friend anymore. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re breaking my—” You hesitated, swallowing hard against the swell of grief that threatened to overwhelm you. “I think this is over.”

"She just needs time," Joel told himself, clinging to the fragile hope that things would eventually mend. But that comforting thought crumbled when he saw how easily you seemed to move on, as if he no longer existed in your world. You carried on with your life without so much as a glance in his direction, each moment of indifference cutting deeper. It felt like a deliberate erasure, and Joel's heart shrank under the weight of it, splintering all over again. Did you truly not want him in your life anymore?

His decision to break things off with Sienna had come with a strange clarity. Her warmth, her charm—things he had once appreciated—now felt hollow, like they no longer belonged in his life. Joel couldn’t pretend otherwise. He couldn’t lie to her, tell her everything was fine, and carry on as though his heart wasn’t consumed by someone else. She deserved more than being a placeholder for feelings he couldn’t shake.

In the aftermath of the breakup, Joel thought he might finally find the courage to come to you. To apologize, to face you honestly. He imagined himself laying it all out—his regret, his fear, and the possibility of something more. Perhaps, if you felt even a fraction of what he did, you could both explore the connection that had ignited that night. He had told himself he was ready to risk it all, to bare his soul if you would give him even a sliver of space to do so.

The breaking point came when Tommy casually mentioned you and Travis. The words were innocuous, but the storm they unleashed within Joel was anything but. Something dark and bitter began to fester in his chest—jealousy, anger, resentment? He couldn’t quite name it, but it clawed at him, a toxic mix that he struggled to contain. It wasn’t his proudest moment. It wasn’t even close.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “She must be happy then,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.”

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.”

Later, in the solitude of his room, Joel tucked away the box—the one filled with memories and unfinished gestures. He couldn’t bear to look at it, to confront what it represented. Instead, he tried to distract himself, but the emotions that swirled within him refused to be ignored. But he didn’t. Fear, hesitation, and the unrelenting weight of what-ifs kept him rooted in silence.

What Tommy told him shattered any remaining hope Joel had of making things right with you. Whatever fragile intentions he had to mend the rift between you dissolved in an instant, crushed under the weight of his own assumptions.

You had moved on, hadn’t you? It seemed so, as if you had turned a new page in your life without a second thought. Apparently, that night with Joel hadn’t meant as much to you as it had to him. The realization struck like a knife, twisting with every memory of that fleeting connection he had held onto so desperately. Anger bubbled up alongside the pain, a raw, bitter cocktail of emotions that left him reeling. He wanted to show you that he could move on, too—that he wasn’t as affected, that he could be indifferent.

But the act fell apart every time he saw you with Travis. The sight of the two of you together hollowed him out. You looked happy, didn’t you? The way you smiled, the ease with which you leaned into Travis—it was more than Joel could bear. Each moment of apparent joy between you and this other man chipped away at something inside him, leaving him feeling smaller, more fractured.

Still, the urge to seek your forgiveness lingered. It gnawed at him, the desire to bridge the gap and find some way to fix what had been broken. But every time he mustered the resolve to approach you, his feelings betrayed him. Anger surged to the surface, overpowering the vulnerability he had tried so hard to embrace.

Instead of mending things, he withdrew, consumed by resentment and heartache. The man he became in those moments was someone he didn’t recognize—someone fueled by a mixture of longing and bitterness, too afraid to confront the truth of what he felt, yet unable to let it go.

“That’s mine,” he said.

“What?” you managed, almost gasping, your eyes darting between his face and his hands, as if looking for something—anything—to explain this new, impossible tension.

Joel didn’t move. He was still, a presence that loomed larger by the second. His gaze was steady on you, tracing your body and your face, slow and deliberate.

“The flannel,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rough around the edges. “It’s mine.”

You looked down at the fabric, the soft, familiar warmth of it, and felt a sudden jolt. God. He was right. It was his. But it had been yours for years. You'd worn it so often, so comfortably, that you'd forgotten it ever belonged to anyone else. Maybe he'd lent it to you once, a lifetime ago, on one of those cold nights when you both sat under blankets. But he’d never asked for it back, had he? He never seemed to care, and you never thought to return it. It had just... stayed with you.

When you lifted your eyes back to him, Joel had moved off the wall, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between you. Too close. He was too close, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as his presence engulfed you.

“What happened?” His voice was soft, but there was a simmering undercurrent, a teasing tone that made your pulse quicken, though you weren’t sure why. “Did you forget to include it in your little box when you gave everything back to me?”

You felt a bitter chuckle bubble in your throat, an angry little sound that you couldn’t quite hold back. You shook your head slightly, irritated, your chest tight as you opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted you, his words coming fast, sharper than before.

“Doesn’t your little boyfriend mind you wearing another man’s clothes?” he asked, his voice dripping with something like disdain, like he had been holding that question inside for far too long. His eyes darkened, gliding down to the fabric again, then to your body, before he reached forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the flannel as if testing the boundaries. “Or does he already know this isn’t the only thing of mine that’s wrapped around you?”

Later that night, Joel’s fingers entwined with Clara’s, but her hand was cold, and the contact felt unnatural. When she wrapped her arm around his, an almost visceral rejection welled up in him. Her touch wasn’t comforting; it was suffocating.

The pair walked in silence as they left the Hoffmans’ yard. Joel kept his eyes ahead, determined not to glance back. But he couldn’t help himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you resting your head against Travis’s chest, your body cocooned in his jacket. The sight made Joel’s stomach twist painfully.

This was his fault. He replayed the night in his mind, how he’d told you to take off his shirt, how he’d inadvertently pushed you closer to Travis. Regret pressed heavily on him, a weight he couldn’t shake.

“Do you like wine?” Clara’s voice broke the silence as they neared her house.

Joel turned to her, his gaze distant, his mind still lost elsewhere. His entire body felt stiff, as though rejecting even the possibility of being there.

“Actually, I should get home,” he said abruptly, his voice flat.

Clara blinked at him, her expression faltering. Her easy smile gave way to a confused grimace, but Joel didn’t try to read her emotions.

“Oh,” she murmured, awkwardly. Then, with a hesitant laugh, she added, “Why don’t you come in for a bit? We could… have some fun.” Her hand reached for the collar of his shirt, a playful but suggestive gesture.

Joel gently pushed her hand away, the discomfort etched across his face.

"I really don’t feel like it," Joel said, his voice sharper than he meant it to be, the irritation slipping through despite his effort to hold it back. "And if I’m bein’ honest, I don’t like the way you’re always throwin’ yourself at me, especially in front of everybody like that. It ain’t right, and it sure as hell don’t sit well with me."

The words hung heavily in the air, cutting and cruel. Joel knew his tone wasn’t fair—it came from anger that had little to do with Clara herself. But he didn’t care. If anything, it was a chance to end this farce, to kill two birds with one stone.

Clara’s face flushed, embarrassment washing over her features. She stammered, “Then… why did you invite me to come with you?”

"I wanted to tell you in private," Joel drawled, his voice low and steady, each word carrying the weight of his frustration. "I don’t like you, Clara. Not like that. It ain’t fair to either of us. So why don’t you just go on and find someone else, someone who actually wants what you’re offerin’?"

Her lips parted, as though to say something, but Joel didn’t wait to hear it. His feet were already carrying him away, his thoughts full of you. Always you.

He cursed himself silently, the same harsh words looping in his mind. He was always screwing up, always doing the wrong thing. Everything he touched seemed to fall apart, especially where you were concerned. It was as if he was wired to ruin everything.

He was screwing up, screwing up so bad that he kept hurting you. And he knew there was no turning back when that Saturday after the Halloween party, your eyes had locked onto his, sharp and unyielding, cutting through him like shards of glass. Your voice, heavy with pain, lingered in his mind, echoing with all the things he couldn’t fix.

"Do you think what you’re doing is right, Joel?" you asked, your tone sharper than before, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

His brows knit together, confused, and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask what you meant.

"Do you think you’re accomplishing anything by sleeping with the women in this neighborhood?" you continued, your words rushing out faster now. "I mean, first you sleep with me—oh, the worst mistake of your life—then you sleep with Clara. And what about Sienna? What does she think of all this? You’re a selfish, irresponsible man, Joel Miller, so irresponsible." The words kept spilling, your voice trembling now, laced with both anger and something softer, something that felt like pain. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve ruined us. Completely. And I hate you for that, Joel. I hate you because you’re not the man I thought you were. And i love you so much I—"

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring the edges of your vision and leaving your cheeks hot.

You hated how raw it all felt. How exposed. And worse, how the alcohol that had loosened your tongue was no longer numbing enough to shield you from the reality of what you’d just said.

Before you could stop him, Joel’s hands came to rest gently on your arms. The warmth of his touch made your stomach flip, and it took everything in you to pull away.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking him off and turning on your heel. But you barely managed two steps before your foot caught awkwardly in front of the other, sending you stumbling.

You yelped as your palm scraped against the ground, but Joel caught your other arm before you could fully collapse. The heat of embarrassment rushed to your face as you stood quickly, brushing off your dress and refusing to look at him.

You marched toward your door with renewed determination, ignoring the sting in your palm and the sound of his voice calling after you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading.

But you didn’t stop. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the key, eyes fixed on the lock as if opening the door quickly enough could make him—and everything you’d just said—disappear.

The key slid into the lock on your first try, a stroke of luck you hadn’t expected. You stumbled inside, not bothering to close the door behind you. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe some buried, foolish part of you wanted him to follow. Whatever the reason, Joel did, shutting the door softly as he stepped in, his footsteps trailing after your clumsy, rushed ascent up the stairs. His hand found your lower back more than once, steadying you whenever your feet betrayed you and your balance faltered.

When you reached your room, his presence pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your chest felt tight, emotions boiling over with an intensity you couldn’t contain. The exhaustion—of everything—clawed at your insides, raw and relentless.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, spinning to face him, your palms colliding with his chest in a sharp slap. The sound echoed between you, loud and angry. You hit him again, this time harder, though he barely moved, only stepping back an inch. “Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you. I hate you so much.” Your fists clenched, pounding against him now, the blows strong but harmless.

The pain in your eyes, the tremor in your voice—it shattered Joel completely. Every crack in your expression, every unsteady word, drove home the truth he had been avoiding: he had hurt you. Deeply. Irrevocably. And in that moment, the weight of his guilt became unbearable. He felt like he deserved every ounce of hatred and anger you could muster, every harsh word or cold glance. Hell, he deserved worse. He deserved every bad thing the world could throw at him.

When you lay down on the bed, exhausted and emotionally raw, Joel felt an overwhelming urge to stay. He wanted to be near you, to watch over you, to be a steady presence even if you didn’t want him there. But your words had been clear, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Reluctantly, he obeyed, dragging his heavy feet out of your space. The weight of his body mirrored the weight in his chest as he trudged home.

Once inside the dark silence of his living room, the self-loathing consumed him entirely. He sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands as the shame and regret clawed at him. How could he have done this to you? How could he have hurt the sweetest, kindest woman he had ever known? He replayed every misstep, every moment he let his anger or fear get in the way of treating you the way you deserved.

Joel knew he had to make it right, no matter the cost. He had to apologize, to lay bare his mistakes and accept whatever consequences you chose to impose. Even if it meant watching you move on with Travis.

The thought of seeing you with another man was agonizing, like a knife twisting in his chest. But Joel couldn’t ignore the truth: despite his disdain for Travis, the man made you happy. He’d seen it in your laughter, the easy way you leaned into him, the light in your eyes that Joel himself had dimmed. And wasn’t that what you deserved? Happiness, warmth, stability—all the things Joel doubted he could give you.

He hated himself for the jealousy that still lingered, for the bitterness that coiled inside him like a serpent. But more than that, he hated himself for failing you. You deserved better. So much better. And if Travis was that for you, Joel would accept it, no matter how much it tore him apart.

But then, when you went to his house...

He would never have imagined the way your lips sought his again, desperate, hungry. Joel could hardly believe what was happening. The feel of your kiss finding him again, so warm, perfect—it was as if the world had tilted off its axis. For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming. Maybe this was all in his head, his mind playing tricks on him because he couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone. It was too perfect, too real. He convinced himself that any second now, he’d wake up and find himself alone again, lost in the hollow ache of regret.

But no, you were there. Really there. Beneath him once again. The weight of your presence was grounding, pulling him back into a reality where everything felt possible, where maybe—just maybe—he could make things right. Your head resting on his chest, the soft rise and fall of your breath against his skin—it was everything he had wanted and more. For the first time in weeks, Joel felt at peace. His heart beat so strongly in his chest it felt as though it could burst, and for a moment, he forgot all the mistakes, all the pain. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing, least of all him.

This time, he promised himself, he would do things right. He wouldn’t let fear dictate his choices. He wouldn’t push you away. He couldn’t. Not again.

But just as quickly as that fragile peace had settled—

Sarah arrived, interrupting the quiet moment with a sudden presence that jolted him awake. The sound of her voice was enough to make him freeze, the peace slipping away.

Downstairs in the living room, Joel forced himself to straighten, to steady his nerves. His hands were clammy, his pulse racing, but he masked it all. His posture was rigid, controlled, serious as always. Nothing about him would give away the chaos he felt inside.

You looked between Sarah and him, your gaze flicking back and forth, and Joel noticed the shy smile that touched your lips. His chest tightened, but he couldn’t help but notice the softness in your expression.

"C'mon, what do you wanna eat?" she asked. "You're staying, right?"

“I… sure, uh, I don’t—I have to do something first, okay?” you said, your voice a little unsteady, a little unsure, but there was a determination in your eyes that he couldn’t ignore.

Sarah, ever the curious one, tilted her head, her face full of contentment, though it quickly shifted to confusion.

“What?” she asked, a hint of innocence in her voice.

Joel, feeling the need to regain control of the situation, stood up from the doorframe. He walked over to Sarah, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, grounding himself in the familiar warmth of his daughter.

“Why don’t you help me pick out dinner in the meantime?” he suggested, keeping his voice calm and steady, just like he always did. It was the easiest way to pull Sarah away, to give you space without making it obvious.

Without another word, you left his house, your legs unsteady, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts, of questions. Joel watched you go, his chest heavy, knowing that what had just happened was different.

As he watched you leave, he knew one thing for certain: Sarah was going to wait for you for dinner. That, at least, was something he could count on.

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pha55ed · 9 days ago

Text

No One Noticed || F1/F2

type :: angst

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, lando, oscar, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you both knew the relationship was failing, so you both ended it

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

The 2024 season was objectivly a good year for him. A mixture of highs and lows, but he couldn't hide his feelings from you. You knew that deep down he wasn't doing the best mentally. The loss of his Ferrari, his shaky future, and his recent break up with Rebecca was all weighing on his shoulders.

He did his best to have fun, which he did. But you knew better than anyone else that he needed some time to himself. Although you tried to have breaks and give him alone time, it just wasn't enough. It was as if he'd lost hope and was struggling to find it.

You deserved better than him and he knew it. He wasn't his best version of himself and he wanted to improve instead of dragging you down with him. So he sat you down, preparing to tell you everything he was thinking and why he was doing this.

But once you two were there together, it was as if his eyes said everything for you. You didn't need to hear him explain anything, you knew him well despite only being together for a few months.

"Breaking up isn't necessary," You try to reason with him "I'll wait for you however long-"

"You shouldn't force yourself to wait for me." He said passionately. You weren't just a wag, you were a hardworking woman who had many career offers. But you were sadly turning most offers down in order to focus on Carlo's mental health. "Please don't hold back for me. I'll find you when I'm ready."

"By then you'll be a 100 times better than me." He says with a soft smile. "I hope you'll be able to find the 'pros' in me still."

Lando Norris | 04

Your life styles never connected fully. Although you did your best to adapt to his fast pace, party-filled, and action packed life, you just couldn't. It didn't match who you were and it never would. You tried so hard to fit into his perfect life, but you both knew it wasn't working. And he knew it even more than you did.

Seeing you struggle with everything made him feel so guilty. Watching you. try to keep up with his constant flights, which almost always ruined your sleep schedule and body. Seeing you study alone in the dead of night when he's coming back from another celebration party. And worse of all, watching you miss on the biggest life event in your family and friends just because you were in a completely different country.

It almost hurt him more than it hurt you. He loves you so deeply that despite seeing you hide your sadness, he wanted to keep you to himself. But he knew better than to keep you for longer. He was holding you back from living your best life.

So when you both sat down in his living room, he instantly felt tears brim his eyes. He wanted to speak, to say the speech that he prepared for you - admit how he felt guilty and selfish, how he'll forever care for you, how he wishes the best for you, and how he hopes to stay in your life. Yet he can't say a single word.

But you know him. You simply just nod, letting out a heavy sigh. "Is this the end?"

"No," Lando says instantly. "I never want there to be an end to us."

"Me neither," You say. There's a long pause between both of you. Your words are a small hint to your want to stay together. But you know it's just prolonging the end.

"I just" Lando says slowly, "We both know, how we feel, what we want... And I don't want to hold you back anymore."

Oscar Piastri | 81

After breaking up with Lily, who he was with for basically most of his life, he got with you. Not as a rebound, but he genuinely fell for you and loved you. But, he quickly realized he wasn't a great boyfriend.

He was gone for days and weeks at a time, opening up was terrifying for him, and he couldn't allow himself to trust you. But he was also co-dependent on you. It was an odd back and forth. From being ignored for days to then being needed to do basic tasks.

It was hurting you and you hated to admit it. And he could tell it was just driving you crazy. So he knew what the solution was: he needed to fix himself. He's never had the chance to be alone, always having someone stuck to his side to help him. He knew he had a lot of issues that he needed to fix in order to be a better boyfriend.

He knew he should break up with you in person. That's the nicest thing he can do after being a shitty boyfriend to you. But he can't bring himself to do it. So instead, you get a lengthy text with paragraphs upon paragraphs that described his need to be alone, why he's such a shit boyfriend, how he'll always miss you, and how he's sorry.

Ollie Bearman | 87

"We can do it, just give me one more month." Ollie pleads desperately, tears brimming his eyes as he's holding onto your hand gently. But you knew it was too late to save the relationship after all the issues you've faced.

You really did your best to make the relationship work, but his work was always stopping you two from doing anything. In 2024 alone, he was in F2, raced for Ferrari, raced for Haas, and so much more drama within his personal life. It was way too much for you. Your lifestyles were clashing and more.

Not to mention the huge backlash you were getting from his insane fanbase. Although most were sweet and kind, a few were nasty. They left hate comments everywhere, spammed your inbox, even finding where you live to send you letters to "leave Ollie alone."

"I can fix it, I'll stop everything please-" He begs, tears falling now as he watched you pack your bags. "Please, just one more month."

But it was too late, your mind was made up. You didn't want him to stop his life for you and you didn't want to be in the way.

Paul Aron | 17 Reminder: this is all fiction - I have zero clue what Paul's family is like

Being two different ethnicities wasn't an odd thing for couples. Many couples on the grid came from different backgrounds but always found a way to meet in the middle. But with Paul, it was almost impossible to do.

His family were very traditional, which meant they had very outdated ideas. They were against the idea of immigrants coming in, were perfectly fine with the huge wage gap between men and women, made cruel jokes to Jewish people, Russians, LGBTQ+, and more.

Although you knew that Paul didn't believe any of these and wasn't far-right - the fact that his family would believe in ideologies that completely go against your existence were hurtful. And even worse, you knew they didn't like you much either. They always dreamed of Paul getting with a beautiful thin Estonian girl who kept her mouth shut - The opposite of you.

Every time you met with his family, it was as if you the scum of the Earth. They weren't even passive aggressive either, they were blunt and honest with you. "I didn't know Paul liked heavy girls", "You don't believe that bullshit right?", and more.

You couldn't stand it and knew you wouldn't be able to last unless Paul was willing to leave his family behind. But he wasn't. Because although he disagreed with their thoughts, he still wanted to have his family. Being one of the only Estonian's on the grid and on the planet forced him to stay connected to them. He understood your thoughts and you did the same for his. So, he made his choice and so did you.

Pepe Marti | 21

Although Christian and Sebastian are great friends to Pepe, the rest of Pepe's friends are questionable. His friends in university were the stereotypical frat guys: cheating on their girlfriends, being painfully stupid, and lowkey leaning to the right-wing.

You did you best to try and stand them, but they were slowly rubbing off on Pepe. That's when both goth into a big fight because one of Pepe’s closest friends cheated on his girlfriend. Pepe knew the whole time and never told you or the girlfriend, which made you feel icky.

It ended with Pepe admitting he was wrong, but it still didn’t sit right with you that he hid it for so long. It made you question everything about your relationship and his morals. But that wasn’t the only fight you would have after this.

So you both sat down together, you were the one to bees it off with him. He tried his best to plead and say he’s nothing like his friends. But after you stayed stubborn, he did a 180 - quickly turning from begging to saying he never needed this relationship. You knew it was just his defense mechanism, trying to seem cold. But it still hurt you. It just further solidified that you made the right choice.

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

#f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula 2 #f1 x reader #f2 x reader #paul aron #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #ollie bearman x reader #oliver bearman x reader #paul aron x reader #pepe marti x reader #xmas celly!

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antimonyandthyme · 29 days ago

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2k, paul/carlos

(written after the c2 / paul vid, and this post came out with the brilliant @formulahs suggesting an auction LMAO)

He goes without the expectation of buying anything. He looks forward to a good time, even with all the cameras around. The shoes his stylist wants him to go in are fanciful, shiny monstrosities, and he nearly insists for the sneakers to stay on. Then he remembers that he’s technically there for Ferrari, and dutifully swaps them out.

Technically. Paul can go for other reasons too. Charles is lovely, if a little vacant around him. Carlos is. Carlos is, he’s—

It’s early days and Paul isn’t one for poetry, and yet here he is. He hopes to god he isn’t being obvious. Not to the staff when he spots Carlos and lights up like a schoolboy with a crush. Not to Charles, when he holds on to Carlos for a handshake that’s a little longer than necessary. Definitely not obvious to whoever watches these videos, when he mouths all of the answers to Carlos.

Can’t deny having a favourite. He can turn his nose up all he wants at the reputation that follows any young actor these days, but he can’t deny his appreciation for nice things. There are no trophies in his world—yet, just good food, good drink, good people. Beautiful people. For the third time since they rolled cameras, Paul is caught staring. Carlos always looks slightly lost, staring back, like he’s trying to figure Paul out, before he ducks his head and curls up. Large hands clasped in his lap. Maybe a little shy. Maybe a little pleased.

“He’s a little expensive,” Charles says, “but you should be able to afford him.”

Paul attempts to tamper his face into something palatable. Ungracious of Charles to lay out his desires so plainly. And then in the same breath insinuate that his ability to pay might not stack up. Somewhere past Paul’s eyeline, Carlos is returning his mic to the staff with a relieved smile. Unpacking his spine into something looser, now that the cameras are off. He tips his head at Paul, eyes inquisitive, as if guessing that they were discussing him.

Paul has to look away, guilty.

“I didn’t plan on buying,” he says. It’s the truth. Mostly. In his defense, it wasn’t like Ferrari were being subtle about shoving them in a room together, especially after they made this tradition known. It’s like asking someone not to think of elephants. On command, a safari blooms open in Paul’s mind.

Charles shrugs. “We’ll have another event later. Someone else probably will.”

The flippant way Charles speaks about it grates against Paul’s skin. He can’t tell if Charles is trying to rile him up. The thought of Carlos having to hang off a faceless person’s arm makes distaste churn so violently in his belly that it manifests into an ache.

“Carlos wouldn’t mind, if it’s you.”

“How would you know,” Paul grits out. The mental fidget spinner he has for Charles keeps going around in circles, flickering from Empty to Dickhead to Helpful, maybe?

“Ah, he’s used to it no? People looking at him like that.” Charles’s voice dips low, like he’s sharing a secret. Paul’s an actor for fuck’s sake. He knows when someone’s selling him something, a mediocre contract, a shitty line. Still, he can’t help leaning in closer, puts his ear right next to Charles’s mouth.

Further away, Carlos’s mouth twists down, his gaze shutters. Just a minute, baby, Paul wants to tell him. Just—give me a minute.

“He looks back, when it’s you,” Charles says, and Paul’s done convincing himself otherwise.

They tell him, in one of the most bewildering conversations Paul’s ever had, that Carlos will be delivered in the evening, at whatever time suits Paul best. Delivered, like he’s some kind of package. What the fuck, sings one part of his brain. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what have you just done. The other part, the part that’s mostly primitive and hedonistic, somehow takes charge and sends him off on multiple errands. He gets his hair trimmed, just a little at the sides. He buys some wine. He changes into the sneakers. He considers getting another tattoo, before he snaps himself out of it.

Poetry and tattoos. Paul’s lost his mind.

The time in between gives him room to vacillate between wanting to feed the open maw within him and growing shamefully aware about the shape of his yearning. He hadn’t realized he had enough space within his ribcage to stuff another man entire. There are so many other ways he could have gone about this. But he doesn’t have Carlos’s number. He can’t text. Even if he could, Paul wouldn’t know what to say.

Tick tock, tick tock. Paul rearranges furniture, door dashes some flowers, after spending half an hour reading up on flower language, interspersed with vapid scrolling of his socials. Tick tock.

By the time Carlos arrives, he’s in a bit of a wreck. People who move in Carlos’s world would certainly be familiar with Ferrari’s clauses, and would know how to act. The muted greeting Carlos gives doesn’t help either. He’s dressed up but down, in a plain, almost translucent shirt that leaves little to imagination. He toes off his shoes with an unconscious gracefulness, and comes to stand in front of Paul. He’s waxed, which Paul knows, just from being so close to him this afternoon, had to have happened in that space where Paul was questioning all his life choices. He looks wonderful, except for the fact that he looks so visibly uncomfortable.

“Do you,” Paul starts. Swallowing around the dry lump in his throat. “Do you want something to drink?”

Carlos fidgets. “If you’d like,” he says.

That’s, ow.

They’d assured him, again and again, that Carlos always had the final say, but his teeth are buried in his lower lip, hard enough to blanch, and his toes dig into the carpet like a lifeline. It’s not like Paul’s hung out with Carlos more than a handful of times, but it’s hard to ever picture him in such distress. Carlos is—larger, than what he’d ever seen on screen. You have to witness him in person, to understand.

Faced with this shrunken version of Carlos, Paul can’t bring himself to continue.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I really am. I assumed you’d want—I’m sorry.”

Carlos flinches, jerks his head up. “Wait.”

“It’s alright,” Paul says. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You could just leave. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Wait,” Carlos says, more urgently. “I don’t want to—” His voice grows small. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not,” Paul nearly yelps. “But you’re. You’re…”

Carlos’s cheeks are very pink. His toes tap an erratic beat on the floor. His hands are clasped in front of him, almost in supplication.

“You’re nervous!”

“Yes!” Carlos blurts out, before looking very mortified. “I’m. Ah, fuck. Paul, I’m never. Never like this.”

Tension bleeds out of him. Something so relieved escapes out of Paul’s mouth in an embarrassing giggle. “Carlos. You should have just said.”

“I don’t know why…” Carlos trails off, scrubbing at the back of his neck vigorously. “With you, I’m like this. I don’t know. I want.” His toes tap some more. “I want to.”

“Want to?” Paul says, coming closer, watching Carlos sway in eagerly.

“Make it worth it,” Carlos mutters. “What you paid.”

Paul groans. He wants to shake Carlos. Then decides, hey, he actually can shake Carlos. Gentle hands around his shoulders, shaking him like a beloved ragdoll. “Oh my god. You can’t be serious.”

“It’s a lot of money,” Carlos protests, but the corners of his mouth are turned up now.

“Shut up, you’re ridiculous. Do you think I would have even paid that if, if I. Oh my god, Carlos. You have to know, right?”

“Know what,” Carlos says, enjoying being a little shit now that they’re joking.

“Can’t take my eyes off you, when you’re in the room,” Paul says. “I thought I was being obvious.”

“You were,” Carlos says brightly. “I thought I was obvious right back.”

“Okay, so. So why are you—?”

Carlos’s face twists. “This season has been. Ah.” He shakes his head reluctantly. “You don’t have to listen to this.”

“Go on,” Paul says. “Come on, tell me. Twelve hours of your time, remember?”

“Been hard to live up to expectations, this year,” Carlos says. “I didn’t want that with you.”

“You are so.” Stupid. Hot. Stupidly hot. “I’m going to shake you some more,” Paul says. “I cannot believe you.”

“That’s fine,” Carlos says. He goes along with the shaking, in a way that shows exactly how much of his body he’s putting into Paul’s hands. A neck as thick as that and he’s somehow limp under Paul’s touch. That’s, well. That’s a lot. “Then maybe, maybe. You could kiss me?”

Yes, yes. Yesssssssss, sings both parts of Paul’s brain. Yes.

Carlos is still now, expectant. A long, lean line of muscle, rooted to the ground, that Paul can trace hungrily with his eyes. He could pull at Carlos with all his strength and Carlos would not move, if he did not want to. But when Paul nudges a finger under his jaw, Carlos goes, looks up, right at him. Leans in.

He’s a greedy little thing, isn’t he. Swallows Paul with ease, every which way. He makes insane noises, deep, and guttural when Paul fucks him hard, high, and breathless when Paul thumbs at his nipples. Carlos clutches at Paul like it’d physically hurt to let go. Everything he’s meant to do, he does and is wonderful at it. And somehow, he’d managed to assume he wouldn’t live up.

“Unbelievable,” Paul says to the ceiling, some time after he’d come so viciously it felt like he’d been wrung out like a dish towel. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Are you still mad at me,” Carlos says, amused.

“Yes.”

“Ay, don’t be,” Carlos says, softly. “I really was nervous.”

Paul turns on his side, hand supporting his head as he gazes at Carlos. Crazy intimate. Terrible, the way he’s setting himself up for the worst time. He can’t bring himself to care.

“You’re allowed to stay the night?”

“Twelve hours,” Carlos says. “You can ask me to do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Carlos confirms. “Sleep at the foot of the bed, if you want.”

Why would he even say such a—Paul is going to shake him again. If he can unpretzel himself from all that easy comfort following an earth-shattering orgasm. He nudges at Carlos’s hip instead. It’s the closest body part he can find.

“I kick in my sleep,” Paul says seriously, delighting in the way that makes Carlos giggle. He pats the scant space next to him. “I’d rather you be right here.”

“I’ll be right here,” Carlos says, then clears his throat. He probably was just parroting Paul, didn’t mean for it to sound so much like a promise.

But Paul… is also a greedy little thing, isn’t he? So greedy he paid for it, and so greedy he wants more now that he’s had a taste.

“And after?” Paul says. Will you be…?

“After,” Carlos says, “after Las Vegas is Qatar. Then Abu Dhabi.”

“Fine,” Paul says. As let downs go, this is pretty devastating, but he’ll live. It’s not like he had expected—never mind.

Carlos shifts. His jaw unlocks, then clicks back. “You get discounts, after, did you know that? Very good discounts.”

“Oh,” Paul says, a little wobbly. “Do I?”

“Yes. And after Abu Dhabi, it’s. It’s free.”

“Ah.” His chest is squeezing tighter than a fist. The space in his ribcage! Expanding and contracting to accommodate whatever Carlos sees fit. He lets himself imagine pressing up close to Carlos in a quiet apartment, pulling out every sound in Carlos's vocabulary with time, unlimited, on his hands. Buying flowers he knows for sure Carlos likes.

“I guess I need to stick around."

“Guess so,” Carlos says, smiles. “Make it worth your while.”

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #paulos #this is the most self-indulgent thing #ahahaha #oh dear. oh. dear

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darealsaltysam · 10 months ago

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I JUST GOT BACK FROM SEEING DUNE PART 2 AND HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUUUUCK I NEED TO. I NEED TO. I NEED TO TALK SO BAD HOLY SHIT

below the cut because oh boy do i have a lot to say and i dont want my poor followers to suffer when i post this

oh my god okay okay where do i even start

opening with irulan's narration to mirror her notes in the openings of the chapters of the book. oh yeah baby. i ate that right up

watching paul get close with the fremen,,,,, fucking hell that hurts. dune really is a tragedy at the end of the day huh. they go from reluctant allies to friends but the whole time you know the switch will happen any moment now and they will be devotees and he will be messiah and that gap between them will never be as small as it is out in the sand. huddled in those tents. sharing drinks and laughs. im not doing ok

this especially hurts with chani. their love is so genuine and pure and she wears blue for him (which by the way sticks out so much more with how muted the colors of the rest of the movie are... i could talk about this all day) but she can see what he is becoming and he's trying to avoid it for her so hard but there's no avoiding fate. LORD ABOVE!!!!

i loveeee jessica being the manipulator thats pulling all the strings, urging paul towards becoming messiah. rebecca ferguson is such a talented actress she really understands the character so well. also as a hashtag certified alia atreides enjoyer her scheming with her unborn fetus might be the most unhinged thing ever but thats also so fucking funny aka its as dune as it gets. dune is WEIRD and im glad theyre not shying away from that. thank u denis

arrakis looks so much more beautiful in this movie like theres defo been some changes with how its framed and presented it feels so much grander and idk just ??? what it makes me think is that we're not seeing arrakis, we're finally seeing dune. we're seeing the land as the fremen see it as paul becomes one of them. i might be looking too much into it but who cares. god i love this movie

but yes more on the fremen in the first section of the movie. i like how there's this cluster of non-believers almost?? its a nice breath of fresh air. its hard to believe every single person would be just devoted to the prophecy and it adds some depth.

i will say the one thing i didnt like is the way stilgar is characterized?? i dont think he was so blindly devoted to paul in the books, and definitely not alia and leto ii after him as the atreides line went on. he's always been a source of small doubt towards paul but i think they're moving that element of him onto chani, so i think i can let it slide. i'd like to see him question alia more in the future though.

the scene where paul was named muad'dib and usul??? god it was so cute which made it so heart wrenching. all the fremen coming together and welcoming him into their lives. as a brother. as a friend. only for him to turn around and make them all bow before him. ohhhhh i cant do this

OH BOY THE WORMS THE WORMS AND THE WORM RIDING AND THE AHHHHHHHHH OH LORD

jesus christ. what the fuck. how is this allowed on cinema screens how is something so amazing allowed

the tension. the effects. the sound design. the sand rushing past the wind the worm moving forward paul struggling to hold on the fremen all watching and then cheering him on HOLY FUCKKKK HOLY FUCK I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH

all the worm riding scenes were so intense and so well done like. when i first read that stuff in the books i didnt think anything could ever capture how i imagined it exactly and yet. AND YET. DENIS!!!!!!!!

once more dune hits the idea of scale SO well everything is HUGE and they MAKE YOU FEEL IT. that shows especially with geidi prime but ill talk about that in a bit. but yes this applies to the worms too lord above them WORMSSSS ARE HUGEEEE AND I LOVE THEMMMM

rebecca ferguson put her heart and soul into that water of life scene and we all need to thank her for it

the way jessica is so quick to switch up and go all in on the prophecy. it makes me think of leto's "im not asking his mother, im asking the bene gesserit" like. the bene gesserit really come first for jessica and she takes her opportunity to fulfill her duties. to be the reverend mother. to rub it all in the faces of the other bene gesserit. she is the mother of the messiah and by god will she make everyone well aware of that

okay. okay okay. i think i said my peace on the early fremen stuff. i think. okay fuck okay SHIT fuck SHIT

FEYD FUCKING RAUTHA LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

oh my god okay. okay ill admit it. i doubted austin butler. i saw the cast list and i was unsure(tm). i saw him in the trailers and my faith was restored. and holy fucking shit did he DELIVER

stellan skarsgård's baron harkonnen is already such a threatening figure it feels like it would be impossible to make someone even more terrifying and yet. AND YET

just the way he's introduced. killing servants with zero remorse. LICKING THAT KNIFE THE WAY HE DID??? OKAY WHORE. I SEE YOU. GO RIGHT AHEAD. MAKE IT SLUTTY IN HOUSE HARKONNEN. I RESPECT IT

when the arena doors open and that loud ass fucking music BOOMS. makes the room fucking SHAKE. thats a PRESENCE right there. THATS how you introduce your antagonist.

the music playing as he fights being as fucking deranged as he is. chaotic and weird and unsettling. just. oh my god feyd had such a presence from the moment he showed up and he did not lose it for a single second. you could feel him LOOMING over the movie the whole time just as he looms over the whole book from his very first scene. oh my goddddd oh my godd

GEIDI PRIME. THE ARENA. THAT MASSIVE HARKONNEN PALACE. oh my god. once more. that sense of scale. the harkonnens love to flaunt their wealth so ofc they have huge fuck off arenas and castles where everything and everyone feels so SMALL in comparison.

dont even get me started on the black and white. the way it accents those coal black teeth and mouths. the way it makes everything look so much more inhuman and clinical and PERFECT because harkonnen power is so absolute and ruthless.

and the way the baron sits so so high above watching the fighting. literally impossible to picture his elevation above his people above the rest of the universe. the way feyd looks to him for approval after every movement. even as his uncle is trying to kill him they exchange those little looks and feyd knows hes getting his chance to show off while the baron gives him his "gift" what a fucked up family what the hell

speaking of fucked up family! wow! they are SO fucked up! there is something seriously strange being hinted at with feyd and the baron! feyd making his own brother bow and kiss his boot! those constant threats of death against rabban as if theyre nothing! this family is capital f FUCKED up. they hurt each other as much as they hurt everyone around them. theyre made of violence and blood and they could never show each other kindness because they dont know such a thing

what can i say about the feyd/margot scenes that hasnt been said already. like wow just unpack the boy's trauma like that. use him and then throw him to the wolves. once again the bene gesserit make it so clear this is THEIR empire and THEIR bloodlines and THEIR messiah. too bad jessica doesnt see that collective "ours" and instead settles for "mine" when it comes to the messiah

special shout out to dave bautista before i move on. just cause. his rabban doesnt get enough love. he really sells that balance of ruthless power but also incompetency compared to his brother so well. can you guys tell i REALLY like this cast

WE ACTUALLY GOT TO SEE GURNEY PLAYING THE BALISET WE FUCKING WIN Y'ALL

the paul/gurney reunion being the last shred of the old paul. how he gets so happy "i recognized your footsteps, old man" shoot me in the fucking brain stem it would HURT LESS

a bit off topic and it happened earlier (sorry my thoughts are so all over the place) but i like how they actually showed the process of how the water of life is made. it was actually exactly like how i imagined it when i read the books so thats neat !!

anyway. back to the horrors.

i already talked so much about feyd's presence so just another small note. that scene in sietch tabr. he is a MONSTER and i am EATING IT UP

i cant even begin to explain. how much it fucked me up. when paul took the water of life. i knew thats where we were going. i knew it was unavoidable. and yet still. when chani bent over him and screamed at everyone for making him follow this prophecy. when she was forced to shed tears to save his life. when she got him back only to realize she lost him and he wasnt the person she loved anymore. it broke me

chani's utter hatred for the prophecy and what paul is becoming added to it so much. i know some people are unhappy with how much shes been changed from the books but i think its elevated her character and all these scenes so much. and oh my god does zendaya DELIVER when the spotlight is on her. i never doubted her for a moment but all those changes to chani really allowed to let her shine. thats that euphoria acting coming out baby !!!!

SPEAKING OF GOOD ACTING

TIMOTHEE

FUCKING

CHALAMET

listen i hate the fact that he gets cast in everything these days as much as everyone but hes such a talented actor and i cant deny this anymore. the water of life scene really sold it for me.

he was such a perfect paul already in the first movie but this was the moment it really came out. the way he wakes up so calm and collected. lifeless. monotone. theres nothing theres literally nothing

paul atreides the boy who became duke far too young is dead usul who was the lover of chani is dead muad'dib the fedaykin fighter is dead only the kwisatz haderach remains and thats what the prophecy was always leading us to and yet the moment it happens its so haunting

like i cannot say this enough. that complete switch is so sudden but so subtle at the same time. its still paul technically but hes so different

what makes dune's weird concepts so easy to take in once you get into the book is all that internal monologue that really leads you through these complex concepts slowly. and yet in a few shots and a few lines of dialogue timothee chalamet somehow manages to express the idea of "i just learned the secrets of the fucking universe and im about to start a holy war" ???? HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THIS???? HOW ARE YOU THIS TALENTED???? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT WAS A FEW LOOKS A FEW MOVENTS JUST THE RIGHT TONE OF VOICE AND THATS HIM!!! THATS HIM BABY!!!! THATS THE KWISATZ HADERACH AND THE UNIVERSE IS FUCKED !!!!!!!!!

also. anya taylor joy alia. we only had you for a split second but i cannot wait for you. im sure youre going to completely slay the third movie. give us our beloved tragic meow meow. alia is my fave character so i will be JUDGING HEAVILY. she better bring her a-game istg

when paul storms the war council and just completely takes control of the room so easily. thats the bene gesserit conditioning giving him his pedestal and he is making the most of it. he knows exactly what the fuck hes doing. and once more oh my goddddd all that shouting all that emotion and yet a complete lack of it. timothee spare a crumb of talent for the rest of us

also the way in that scene gurney is hesitant about it all until paul proclaims himself the duke of arrakis. and suddenly gurney has house atreides again and he doesnt care what chani does anymore. hes a follower to paul just as everyone else in that room. nothing changes. fuck me man i cant do this anymore

have i mentioned yet im so excited for chani in the next movie. her arc is so interesting. children of dune is defo not happening with the way chani has been set up so i doubt we'll see leto ii and ghanima but. lets hope we still get all the cool stuff wit alia at least. and maybe chani can be the one who leads the charge against her

okay i need to really fucking. get along with it im dragging this post on im so sorry this movie is eating my brain alive

chani still wearing blue during the final fight. im not saying more than that i might cry if i think about it too much

THAT. FINAL. FIGHT. OH MY GODDD OH MY GOD

IT ALL CAME TOGETHER SO SO WELL

THE WORMS

THE SENSE OF SCALE

THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY

THE MUSIC HOLY FUCK THE MUSIC HANS ZIMMER YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY TIME

THE SOUND

EVERYTHING FLOWING TOGETHER SO WELL

the way the fremen fight for their messiah but still fly the atreides banner. the way paul leads them as their messiah and as a "fremen" but always proclaims himself duke of house atreides first. oh lorddd im unwell

every time paul menacingly emerged from fog/sand/smoke my life was extended by like 10 years thank u denis

gurney killing rabban with as much ease as he did cleared my skin and watered my crops <3

the way the baron was literally dying and still crawling towards the throne.......... the way at the same time feyd ignored him completely and looked towards the doors reveling in the fight ahead..... if that doesnt tell u everything you need to know about house harkonnen idk what will yall

i also love how no one intervenes as paul walks in and kills the baron. not even feyd. feyd looks like he was a little TOO into it as paul killed him tbh. feyd u little freak. austin butler you talented talented man. im unwell

i AM sad we didnt get to see baby alia stab him but ah well. we got a bunch of other weird dune shit so ill let this one slide. the psychic toddler may be too much even for denis and everything he did give us. we'll always have our 1984 alia <3

OHOHOHOHOHOHOH. OH. HERE WE GO

HERE WE GO YALL

THE SCENE IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE READING THE BOOK

THE SCENE THEY SHOWED BITS OF IN THE TRAILER AND THE SCENE IVE BEEN NON STOP YEARNING FOR SINCE!!!

THE DUEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god oh my god oh my goddddd where do i even start

okay so. the way theres no music. no fancy cuts no slow mo no over the top effects. its just the slashing of the blades and those BEAUTIFUL shadowed shots with the setting sun in the background. this really is the sun setting on the peaceful universe. just pain and suffering ahead marked with the blood spilled from the two who were meant to produce the messiah but who both got thrown off this path by the greed and selfishness of their forefathers. guys im normal about paul and feyd. definitely. i definitely have very normal thoughts about how they are foils and yet two sides of the same coin. yes guys

paul making the emperor kiss his ring is already such an insane fucking scene and it translated to the screen so well. amazing performances all around

i didnt talk much about florence pugh's irulan but she really didnt have much time to shine. im excited to see where she goes next and i definitely think shes a great fit but i need to see more of her to really be able to say more

i will say this. the way chani, irulan and jessica are the only ones who dont kneel for paul. the three most important women in his life who give him his power, everything he has. jessica made him and she made him the messiah. chani opened her life up to him, helped him become and in turn control the fremen, and she shed her tears for him and fulfilled her role in the prophecy against her wishes. irulan is his path to the throne, his key to being emperor. and none of them bow before him because why would they bow before a power they are responsible for, a power they own, a power they gave?

but for chani its different ofc. she also refuses to bow because she despises everything paul stands for.

oh my god i could say so much about the last scene being chani. not paul reveling in his victory. paul leaves for his next bloodshed and chani is left behind crying for the person she loves who she knows is gone. crying for her people, again enslaved. crying those same tears that brought the messiah back into this world.

theres a lot to be said about the role of gender in dune and how it hangs over every facet of this world but thats a whole separate analysis post to be had so ill just throw it down here in this little point

another thing chani does very well in the movies is she really makes paul's villainy explicitly clear. SO many people read dune and completely misunderstand it and walk away from it concluding its a "white savior narrative" and nothing more which. yes!! yes it is!!!! but thats not a good thing!!!! its never stated to be a good thing!!!!

this movie is not gonna let you misunderstand the message of the story no matter how blind you try to be to it. paul is not a good guy. hes never been the good guy. hes the protagonist, but hes not the hero. and chani allows that to translate from book to movie very well. have i mentioned yet i love movie chani

chani fills in the holes left behind by the narration and internal monologues of the book and, bonus points, she holds the people who dont understand what dune is about by the hand and tells them explicitly "PAUL IS A BAD GUY!!! DONT IDOLIZE PAUL!!!! DONT WALK AWAY FROM DUNE THINKING ITS PRAISING PAUL'S ACTIONS!!!"

i think thats pretty much all i had to say. i might reblog with additions as they hit me but yeah i. i enjoyed the movie. so so much. i think i might watch it again sometime soon while its still in cinemas.

sorry for being unhinged hope u enjoyed my rants. kiss kiss night night <3

#dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #paul atreides #chani kynes #jessica atreides #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #rabban harkonnen #vladimir harkonnen #stilgar #alia atreides #irulan corrino #im so crazy im so feral holy shit #okay im going to bed now #its 1 am lmao #ive been writing these down for like 2 hours since i got back

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leaawrites · 4 months ago

Text

Bed Chem (PA17)

Paul Aron x fem!reader

Summary: when in desperate need for good food, get a cute guy's phone number.

Warnings: fluff, maybe some minor smut, cursing,

Wordcount:

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

Coast. Sun. The Italian beauty surrounding you in a way you hoped would stay in your memory forever. Friends around you that you wished would stay by your side forever. The stones under your feet so soft and soothing in a way it could only happen in the summer.

Y/n looked up from her book, watching out for her friends every once in a while to see if they were still both alive in the ocean. Seeing them have fun and play mermaids made her smile. A feeling of warmth spreading through her chest that only they could make her feel. The shadow of the cliff next to their secret spot was providing her the medicine she needed most from a headache forming from the heat.

They were in Italy for a few days already. Mostly in the water or taking pictures or eating. It was what they were there for. Getting time off from university and living life a little more fully. They have been friends ever since kindergarten and with summer being the only time they could see each other, they spent their whole time together.

She could hear voices talking on top of the cliff and soon enough a body landed in the water. Breaking the surface with a big splash and scaring the three girls with the sudden movement they didn’t expect. Abby let out a loud scream of shock and Lola only laughed at her reaction. Not as faced by the action as her friends, Y/n stayed back. Observing rather than interfering. She didn’t know where this would go but if it was good, she didn’t wanna ruin it.

Watching the interaction from afar, she had a clearer view on how many people were in the water. 4 guys and her two friends.

“I’m sorry if we scared you, but we called out,” he said, apologizing and defending himself at the same time. Holding his hands up in defense.

“Don’t worry, just a small shock,” Abby said, waving his guilt off and assuring him that they were alright.

“Isn’t it dangerous to jump from so far high up without knowing where you’ll land?” Lola interfered in their conversation. Bugging in with her motherly protective nature.

“We do this very year, it’s fine,” another guy said. He had thick blond hair and seemed rather muscular. The corner of his lips pulling up slightly as he talked.

“You are here every year?” Lola asked, her eyes widen and hope flickering through her pupils. They all nodded, confused at her sudden happiness. “We’ve been trying to find a good dinner place that isn’t already booked out every night but also tastes good. Maybe you have some recommendations?”

“Sure,” the blonde answered. “You’ve got a phone with you? We could send you some addresses if you want to.”

“That would be amazing,” Abby said. She was already starving for great food ever since they arrived, hearing the possibility of great Italian food was all that she needed to get out of the water. The blonde followed her.

They walked over to where Y/n sat, who was still watching, Abby taking the girls phone and opening the contacts. She held it to the guy and waited for him to take it before she glanced down at her friends scowling face. Being the only completely single friend, it was always her phone that was used for guys’ phone numbers. ‘It could be someone good between all the other assholes,’ Lola explained the first time they did it. It hadn’t worked once.

He gave it back to Abby, before looking at the other girl too. “Hey.” He smiled at her. The way he looked at her making her face heat up and her chest churn.

“Hi,” she said back, squinting her eyes from the sun and smiling back awkwardly.

God was he hot.

Abby gave her the phone back before leaving the pair to their own devices and jumping back into the water.

“I’m Y/n,” she introduced herself. The least she could do now that she already had his number in her phone.

“Paul,” he said back, shaking her hand that she had stuck out to him.

“Paul, come on. We’re doing another round,” one of his friends shouted their way, making them both look at him waving for Paul to walk over.

“I’ll see you,” Paul said before hurrying off.

“What are you doing now?” Abby asked, laying down next to her friend on the bed.

They were back in their beach house, waiting for Paul to send them the locations.

“Nothing,” Y/n answered, looking at her phone in hopes of the boy texting her. He didn’t.

“Maybe just ask him,” Lola proposed from the table she was seated at, her mirror in front of her and make up strewn around the surface.

“I’m not texting him again,” Y/n said. “One time is more than enough.”

A simple, ‘hey, it’s Y/n from the cliff today. Got any good dinner places for us yet?’

Not her text, not her confidence.

Abby stole her phone after she wondered too long about what to write for her liking. It was always about taking risks for her. Even on the cost of others.

In the next second, her phone lit up, signaling a new message incoming. Looking at the screen, the two girls on the bed squealed.

Paul had answered.

‘Hey, got a few of our favourites for you.’

And then 4 links to websites of restaurants near them. The three of them looked through them, after sending a ‘thank you’ and eagerly imagining the delicious food they will hopefully soon taste.

Another text from him, when they were on the second website, looking through the menu and prices.

‘Maybe we could take y’all out, a little tour guide around restaurants if you will ;)’

“Holy shit,” Lola said, smiling at the pop-up. “Holy shit. Answer him!”

“What am I supposed to say?” Y/n panicked as she clicked on the text icon.

“Say yes!” Abby urged her, shaking her by her shoulders in excitement. “Maybe he’ll take you out all alone tomorrow.”

“Abby, calm down,” Y/n said, blushing. A deep shade of red creeping up her face. “I barely know him.”

“The way you looked at him said enough,” Lola joined in on the teasing.

“I didn’t look at him in any way.”

“Sure, you didn’t,” they both said at the same time, rolling their eyes in the process. “But then there was they way he looked at you.”

“He didn’t look at me in any way!” She kept on trying to make them shut up.

“Yeah, right.”

“I bet he’s good in bed,” Abby said, never having a filter over what should stay in her head and what was appropriate to be shared with the world.

“Oh my god, stop it!” Y/n let out frustrated, letting her head fall on the mattress.

“Just admit that you think he’s cute.” They didn’t receive an answer, but a groan instead. Probably an eye roll too. Still she couldn’t get the pictures out of her head. With him hovering over her, his arms brushing over her skin so delicately and yet so desperately. Could he be the exception?

His lips on her hips, on her collarbone, on her own. His voice whispering in her ear in such a filthy manner. What would he sound like the morning after? Would his voice be raspy? His accent thicker than it already was? Would his body feel softer, more relaxed?

She imagined their bodies moving together, almost melting into one. Them laughing when something didn’t go the way they planned. Her laughing at the feel of his hair against her bare skin.

A feeling of warmth spreading through her body that only he could make her feel. With his sweet voice whispering in her ear. His hands on her waist, on her face, on her thighs.

‘We would love to.’

#paul aron x reader #paul aron #paul aron x you #paul aron x y/n #f1 imagine #f2 #f2 fluff #f2 fic #f2 fanfic #f2 imagine #f2 grid #short n sweet #sabrina carpenter short n sweet #short n sweet sabrina carpenter #formula 1 #formula 2 #formula two

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menlove · 6 months ago

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one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

#this got so long I just have a lot of feelings about paul if. you couldn't tell.#this is all PURE speculation btw. it's just the way I feel it would go if. he were closeted and they were fucking #a if you give a mouse a cookie type ramble #mclennon

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fashionteahouse · 3 months ago

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hi lovely !!! paul x reader who’s always sleepy and is known for nodding off constantly and always being tired despite the pack’s high energy ?? 💗💗

hi honey! working right on this 💜 hope you enjoy :)

24 hours - paul x reader

Gathered around the table, you sat out on a game of cards. Bets were being placed, loud cackles was the main source of noice, and rattles of the wooden tables were there from the boy’s large hands. Their imprints were next to them participating as well. You tried your best to follow your eyes to watch what was happening but your yawning mixed with watery eyes made it a tad bit difficult.

You placed your hand under your chin, trying your best to keep your head up. Soon when your hand started to get irritated from the stagnant state, you lean back in your chair. Eyes droopy, your head involuntarily tried to droop but you jerked yourself up to try to wake yourself.

Paul placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a look of concern.

“If you’re tired, you can sleep on the couch.”

“I already took a cat nap.” you say.

This makes Paul laugh and turn his attention to the rest of the players, “That’s how bad you all suck.”

Scoffs and snickers surround the table now, as they swim in the river of denial.

“She would fall asleep on a rollercoaster.” Embry says.

“Not true.” you say, cracking a smile and playfully rolling your eyes.

The game resumes, picking up the high energy back into place. It was a never ending battle of yawning, blinking your eyes open, trying to steady your balance from dozing off.

You hadn’t noticed your eyes closed and asleep until you hear clapping and you’re clapping as well, hoping no one noticed. They all stop clapping and laugh. No one was close to winning.

“Leave her alone.” Paul says but he could barely hold it together. You rub your eyes with the heel of your hands.

“How could you sleep with their big mouths?” Emily asks surprised in a way. She needed peace and quiet when she wanted to sleep. You just shrug and mutter a “I’m just always tired.”

“How much you want to bet if Y/N actually sleeps for a full 24 hours, they would still doze off.” Jared says nudging Embry. They shake on it.

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slaybestieslay946 · 9 months ago

Text

Stay

pairing: paul atreides x reader

word count: 2000

warnings: light angst with a happy ending

summary: you are the empress of the known universe alongside paul atreides, however, you dont agree with what hes doing, so you give him an ultimatum.

You had always loved the rain. Especially on Caladan. Yes, on your home planet it had rained fairly frequently, but it wasn’t the same. The rain on Caladan came down by the bucket full, not measly little drops. Each minute sheets of water fell from the sky like rolls of silver fabric.

The only thing that lulled you to sleep more effectively than rain on a window, was the slow, contented breathing of your husband beside you, and the slow movement of his fingers brushing against your waist. Every now and again he’d re-adjust his position to get even closer to you.

Usually he fell asleep before he was practically clinging to you, but tonight was not one of those occasions.

“Paul,” You laughed breathily, pushing away from him a bit in order to spin in his arms and face him.

He groaned in complaint as you moved away from him and opened his eyes blearily.

“Why’re you moving away…” He complained, trying to pull you back to him.

“Because you’re practically on top of me, I’m not a hot water bottle.” You chided, although the teasing smile on your face gave away your true feelings.

“No, you’re better.” He said, a sly smile on his face, “Now c’mere, I’m cold.”

You sighed, but did as he said, tugging his arm around you and lacing your fingers together.

You could feel Paul’s smile on the back of your neck as he found a way to hold you even closer.

“I love you.” He whispered, and you replied in kind, the smile that formed on your face certain to match the one he was currently wearing.

“Promise you’ll stay with me?”

“Mhm. I promise.”

Now, as you paced nervously around the hangar, you couldn’t help but think back to that promise you had made. At the time, you thought that nothing could tear you away from Paul Atreides, not the sun nor the stars.

Of course, you could never have planned for him becoming Emperor of the known universe. And you could have never known that it would be him tearing the both of you apart.

At first, when you had been planning your escape, you had hoped that the aircraft would arrive before your husband. That was before you remembered who your husband was now. He would notice you were gone almost immediately, so you had to plan for confrontation, not avoid it.

“What is this?” A voice came from the entrance to the hangar, echoing through the cavernous room and into your ears. He didn’t sound angry, merely confused.

You turned to face him and his expression was just what you thought it would be, torn between angry and distressed. In his hand, he held the note which you had written, telling him to meet you down here.

“I am leaving, Paul. For Caladan.” You said firmly, turning to face him.

He smiled weakly, shaking his head, “Why all the smoke and mirrors? If you wanted to return home you should have said so. I would have prepared a ship for us both-”

“Because I am not going with you.” You interrupted, your voice harsh.

“What do you mean? It is not exactly typical for the Empress to leave her husband days after the coronation.” He laughed, but it was not the melodic sound you had once loved, instead it was forced, choked even.

“Well, you are not the typical Emperor. I am leaving, and you will not follow me.” You stated, remaining firm, even as your heart threatened to betray your mind and run back to him.

Paul just stared at you, his face painted white in shock.

“Why?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Because I can no longer stay by your side and watch you become this. You are becoming someone I do not recognise.”

“My love, what are you talking about-?”

“I'm talking about this, Paul! Your holy war! You do remember that, don’t you? The war you swore to me you’d do anything to stop? And now, here you are, at its forefront.”

“I had no choice.” He said, his eyes hardening slightly.

“You always have a choice. You are their so-called ‘messiah’. Their emperor. They would fly into the sun if you asked them to. So ask them, stop this war before it consumes everything.”

“You know it is not that simple!” He shouted, and you couldn’t help but flinch slightly before rallying yourself.

“The man I married on Caladan would not have cared about simplicity. He would have cared about what was right, what was moral! He would never have entered this conflict, he would have laid down his life to prevent it! And I would have been right beside him.”

“This conflict was inevitable! I am doing my very best to minimise the damage, can’t you understand that?”

“I understand that you are still not doing enough.”

Paul looked at you, incredulously, anger filling his gaze, “Really? How can I do more when my own wife does not believe in me! You claim to support me, and yet now you are leaving me. My position is still weak, and you leave the only man you have ever claimed to love.”

“Your position! You are faced with the massacre of your people and all you can speak of is your position!?. Have you no soul left Paul? Did it melt away on Arrakis, scorched by the sun?”

Suddenly all the anger and venom drained from Paul’s face, and he found himself dropping to his knees, and begging you to stay.

“You are my soul. You have been all these years. You keep me balanced, you are my morality, my goodness. Everything I do is for you, my love, for your safety. I only care about my position for it is your position also, all the power I have acquired is only in the name of keeping you from harm.”

You looked at him, staring deeply into his eyes, that piercing blue that you had thought so beautiful when they finally changed. Now they were just a reminder of how much he had changed since coming to this awful place.

“I want to believe you. But you have always had such a way with words. I watched the way you deceived those people into following you, is that what you’re doing now?”

He rose to his feet again, taking your hands in his. His face was frantic with fear.

“I would never deceive you. I mean every word, I’ve felt this way my whole life. You are the most important thing to me. You know I would never lie to you.”

For the first time since the conversation began, you hesitated slightly. Could you believe him? Eventually, you landed on an answer.

“...I do. You would never lie to me on purpose. You are lying to yourself too Paul. You know that I have never wanted position, nor power, heavens, I have never even wanted safety! All I have ever wanted is you, wholly, truly, with no barriers-”

“And you have me!”

You reached up to splay your hand across his cheek, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill from his blue-blue eyes.

“No, I don’t have you. I have splinters of you, and I fear the rest is lost. You may bear the resemblance of the man I love, but you are not him.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out.

Suddenly there was the immense whirring of gears, and you knew your ship was here to take you to Caladan.

“I’m afraid we do not have much time, so listen to what I say,” He didn’t react, his face remaining desperate and heartbroken, but you continued anyway.

“If you finally realise what you have done, and you fix it, come to me on Caladan. But I don’t want to see the Muad’dib, or the ‘Messiah’, or the Kwisatz Haderach. The only man I wish to see is my husband, Paul Atreides. Remember that Paul.”

You gave him one last longing look before turning away from him, and making towards the ship that was emerging from the floor of the hangar.

“I’ll see you again?” He called, his voice cracking slightly as he stared after your retreating form in defeat.

“Hopefully so, my love, hopefully so.”

And with that, you stepped onto the outstretched platform of the ship, and shut the door behind you. Paul stayed in the hangar until the craft was gone, biting his tongue so as not to call out to you again and beg you to stay.

The message that the Emperor would be coming to visit you had come far sooner than you expected.

And you were disappointed in him. He was breaking your agreement, and so soon. It had only been a year, and to your knowledge there had been no change in the situation.

Perhaps he was coming to ask for a divorce, maybe he’d found someone else since you left. That would certainly be ironic, considering the way he had begged for you to stay on Arrakis.

However, you were incorrect, because only a few days later a messenger came to tell you that the jihad had ended.

Immediately you leapt out of your seat, clasping your hand over your mouth in shock. He had done it.

For the next few days, Castle Caladan was abuzz with preparations for the Emperor returning home. You oversaw said preparations with a watchful eye, and though you wouldn’t admit it, you were happier than you had been in years. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you had missed Paul terribly.

Yet, when his ship landed, you were nowhere to be found.

“Where is my wife?” Paul asked one of your ladies in waiting as he strode through the halls of his childhood home.

“My lord, she left on a walk to the cliffs this morning, and has not returned since. Would you like me to send someone to fetch her?”

The Emperor’s harsh expression softened slightly. “No, I’ll go.”

It didn’t take Paul long to work out where you had gone, and as he climbed one of the paths up to the cliffs, he was glad to see you sitting on one of the benches, clad in the green silks of house Atreides.

He called your name, and his voice cut through the gusting winds into your ear, and you turned to face him with a searching look on your face.

You stood, and couldn’t help but jog towards your husband, gathering your skirts so you didn’t trip and make a fool of yourself. However, you stopped short of running into his arms, opting to stand just in front of him so you could inspect his face properly.

“Is it you, Paul? Have you finally come back to me?” You asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“It’s me,” He whispered, reaching a hand out to touch you, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, what I was doing was wrong, and I know that now, and-!”

You cut off his rambling apology by surging forwards into his arms and kissing him fiercely. He immediately responded in kind, wrapping an arm around your waist and cradling your head in his hand, whilst you held onto the lapels of his coat as tightly as you could.

Despite the fact you wanted to stay like that forever, eventually the need for oxygen prevailed, and you broke away to take a deep breath in, laughing lightly at the sight of his flushed face.

He grinned at you, moving the hand that was on the back of our head back to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face.

“You missed me?” He asked, teasing, but his voice had a slight edge of concern to it.

“Yes. I missed you so much.” You said immediately, emphatically. Because you had missed Paul, it felt as if you hadn’t seen the real him for years, and the feeling of being reunited was almost too much for you to contain.

He let out a short sigh of relief, “I missed you too. But it’s ok, because I’ve fixed it all. They still think I’m their messiah, but I’m going to stop acting like it. And you were right, I was power hungry, and selfish, and I exploited so many people, and I betrayed you, and-”

“Enough, Paul.” You said, looking at him with so much care that he couldn’t help but smile softly, “Yes, you have made mistakes, but it wasn’t all your fault. And you’ve made a change now, you’re doing the right thing. And I’ll always be there for you. I had to leave to help you, but I knew we’d see each other again. And here we are, back home, just like old times.”

“You’re right.”

“I often am, my love.”

He wrapped his arms around you once again, “Will you stay with me, here?”

You nodded, “Mhm. I’ll stay for good this time.”

#fanfic #writing #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #dune part two #dune movie #dune #dune part 2 #fluff #minor angst #established relationship #theyre so in love i hate them #arguing

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firelilyfox · 9 months ago

Text

Choose Your Next Words Carefully

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment (assault) / cursing / angst / blood

Words: 2k

Summary: Paul & you were childhood friends but suddenly he distanced from you. On a night full of celebration you get into trouble & Paul protects you … but what happened two years ago?

______________________

Caladan looked even more beautiful at night.

You are watching the peaceful waves collapsing under the balcony you are standing on. Behind the whole castle is celebrating another victory against the Harkonnen. A soft breeze lets the fabric of your dress flow in the wind and you take a deep breath of the salty air.

It wasn’t your wish to be here tonight, but your father insisted that you would watch him getting honored for his work for Duke Leto. And you did. But when the duke’s son joined the celebration, you had to get out of there as soon as possible.

You and Paul Atreides had a very … complicated past.

As long as you could remember you had a crush on him and he knew it all along. When the two of you were younger, you would play everyday and make mischief all around the castle. But suddenly you barley saw him once a week and Paul acted kinda cold around you. Once you wanted to talk to him about his weird behavior, he just laughed at you and made fun of you for having a crush on him. Everybody around could hear him laughing and began to pity you for being so naive.

The daughter of a soldier would never be good enough for a future Duke.

You never spoke to Paul again. This was two years ago, but every time you see him at big events, your heart tightens and you become overwhelmed with sadness and anger. How could he do something like that to you? Even if he never had felt the same for you as you did for him … friends don’t hurt each other like that.

„What are you doing out here?“, a voice asked behind you. When you turned around you saw a man standing there, looking at you with a drunk smile. It was a friend of your father. A soldier, just like him.

„Just catching some fresh air“, you said.

The man comes closer to you, stumbling over his own feet. His wrinkly face showed many scars from battle in the past. „It is dangerous … for a young Lady … out here.“

He leans towards you, but you duck away from him. „Uh.. thanks for the heads up. I will go inside … where its safer.“

As you turn your back again, you can hear him mumbling something about find me later, but you don’t want to keep listening to this creepy guy.

Quickly your feet carrying you inside the great hall, where most of the people are dancing and drinking. You couldn’t see your father anywhere because you are shorter than most of the men and women here. So you decide to get on one of the stone benches to get a better view from up there.

„These things are meant to sit on, you know?“

Green eyes. A crooked grin. Freckles.

„What do you know, Atreides? Shouldn’t your royal ass be sitting on a throne or something?“

Paul chuckles. „Sassy as always. Some things never change, hm?“

You rolled your eyes and went back to keep on looking for your father, so you could finally leave this goddamn party. That’s when Paul joined you on the bench.

„What are we looking for?“, he asked amused.

You’re frowning at him. „WE are not looking for anything. I am looking for my father. And YOU should leave me alone, Atreides.“

Paul looks confused. „Have you forgotten my first name? It’s Paul, you know?“ He smiled again and you catch yourself almost smiling at his dumb joke. But you manage to pull yourself together before that happens. It almost felt like when you were kids.

„Fuck off, Paul.“ You jump from the bench and trying to make a way through the crowd of drunk, dancing people. Paul follows you.

„You tell your future Duke to fuck off? Hah! You are as brave as I remember“, he says laughing. Before you could respond anything, Paul grabs your wrist and turns you around. His other hand holding your waist and you find yourself pressed against him. The high difference forces you to look up at him.

„What are you doing?“, you stutter.

A smirk appears on his face, as if he know how much impact his presence has on you. „I’m dancing with you. I mean we are on the dance floor.“

For a moment you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. The pressure of his hand on your lower back, his chest moving against yours. Your fingers on his bicep. Hands holding each other. This was something you always dreamed about. Your heart begins to pound like crazy. His smile faded and his gaze softened. Now he looks at you like you are the only thing that is existent. Time moves slower. Noise faded. Only you and him.

Paul leans his forehead against yours, closings his eyes and he takes a deep breath. The moment was intimate and all you wished for at some point … but it felt wrong.

„What has gotten into you tonight?“ You pushed him away. A hurt expression crossed his face and you almost felt bad. „Two years, Paul. Two years and now this?“

Without waiting for a stupid response you took off and managed to find a way through the crowd out in the hallways. Tears filled your eyes, but you are to stubborn to let them run down your face, exposing your hurt feelings.

Desperate for some privacy you opened a small door and find an empty room with sofas. The perfect hiding spot until you’ll be able to shove down your feelings again.

„I see. The Lady found me.“

A high pinched scream escaped your throat as you were grabbed roughly by the shoulders and got pushed down on one of the sofas. Your head slammed against something hard and you feel warm blood running down your cheek.

The man from the balcony holds you down with a big smile on his face. His gaze is hidden in shadows but you recognize him.

„Let me go! My father will behead you with his own hands!“ You scream at him, trying to get away but against his heavy body you have no chance.

He was not listening and even if he was, he seemed not to care. The man took one hand of your shoulder to grab you by the neck to choke you and the other hand loosened up his pants.

„No. No please. No“, you beg for him to stop.

„Not so bratty anymore, hm? I shall teach you a lesson you little slut! I will…“

But his words came to stop. Slowly you opened your eyes again, as his grip around your neck got loose again. You could see a knife at his throat, forcing him to stop and not move a muscle. The hand, that was holding the knife belonged to … Paul.

He was standing behind the man. His eyes dark and full of rage. The knife scratching the skin and making the old man bleed a little bit.

The old guy shouted in anger. „Whoever dares to interrupt me will be punished!“

Paul chuckled dangerously silent and forced the man to turn around to look at him. His eyes widened in shock. „My Lord“, he whispered. „I didn’t know that you own this whore … I mean I …“

„If I were you“, Paul interrupted him with a deadly glance. „I would choose my next words very carefully.“

Paul lays more pressure on the knife and it’s cutting deeper into his skin. The man began to whimper. Before the damage would be irreversible, Paul pushed him to the ground.

„I won’t wash my hands in your blood.“ As if he had given a silent sign, two guards came in to drag the man outside. „These guys will handle that.“

You look at Pauls back. He was standing there like a true leader. Like the man he became. He was not a child anymore … and neither were you.

As the door closes again he dropped the knife and turned around to you. Faster than lighting he got down on one knee to met your eyes at the same hight. His hands cupping your face and he wipes your tears away that mixed up with the blood.

„Does it hurt badly?“, he asked with a soft voice. The contrast to his fearless and deadly side couldn’t be any bigger.

You shake your head. „No it’s fine.“

„He will be beheaded in the morning. You don’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.“ Paul tries to calm you down. His eyes holding your own captured and you weren’t able to look away.

„Thanks. I mean …“, you shake your head again getting rid of his hands. „I should go now.“

You stand up and opening the door. Paul is standing right behind you, pushing the door shut again. His hand were right next to your head but you refuse tu turn around right away.

„Please let me explain“, he whispered. Paul was so close, that you could feel his breath on your skin. You sigh but still refuse to turn around to look at him.

„There is nothing to explain. I know everything that I need to know.“

„You asked me what has gotten into me tonight.“

You stay silent.

Paul sighted. „My father told me that I don’t have to be married to be the next Duke.“

Confusion brings you to look over your shoulder and met his sad green eyes. The honesty in them lets you turn around. „What does that have to do with me?“

He smiled but it looked so sad and broken. „Everything. I … i stayed away from you on purpose, y/n.“

„What do you mean?“

„The day you told me, that you … you had feelings for me, was the same day my father told me to that I have to marry Princess Irulan in the future. I was so mad at him because I already lost my heart to someone and I … but he said that it had to be this way.“

„So you let out your anger about your father out on me?“, you asked angrily.

Paul shakes his head. „No. I just thought … if you would hate me … then it would be easier for me to stay away from you.“

Suddenly all fell right into place. His behavior on that day two years ago made much more sense … he was cold and distant but…

You punched him on the arm. „That still don’t give you the permission to act like an asshole!“

Paul smiled and nodded apologetically. „You are right but I was young and not so smart like I thought I wished to be.“

A moment of silence fell over the two of you. Just the eyes spoke louder than a voice could ever manage to do.

„So … you lost your heart to someone else than your reflection in the mirror?“, you joked.

„God I missed your sassy mouth so much!“ Paul laughed and it was the first real laughter you heard from him for such a long time. „Yeah i did. Even if my reflection is pretty stunning … nothing compares to the girl that I lost my heart and soul to.“

Paul gently laid his hand on your cheek making sure you keep on looking into his eyes before he kept on talking. „I always loved you, y/n. Of course I did! How could I not love you?“

Tears start to fill your eyes again … but this time for a good reason.

„You are still an asshole for behaving like that, Atreides.“

His smile melted your heart away. „Will you forgive me?“

You nod.

Paul slowly leans towards you and when his lips met yours, there where nothing else to say.

#timothée chalamet #paul atreides #dune movie #dune part one #dune part two #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #fluff #protective paul atreides #protective boyfriend #paul atreides angst #light angst #dune fanfic #dune angst #paul atreides kissing #first kiss

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bloodywickedvamp · 10 months ago

Text

Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six? Part 3

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: It's date night

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, touching, angst, arguments, flirting, lil kiss

I really cannot believe it took me so long to finish part 3 like...where did the time go?? It was almost an entire year...I just struggled to find the motivation but I finally did! Not sure if this is even good it's so late when I finished writing lol, hope you enjoy!

Dividers: @saradika & @firefly-graphics

“Okay…I’ll do it.”

“What?” Michael turns towards me and asks bewildered. I can’t blame him, I’m a little shocked by my own acquiescence.

I tear my gaze from David to Michael and briefly at our fingers laced together before meeting his eyes.

“I know this isn’t ideal Mikey, but you heard them, they won’t stop. We can talk about this more later, okay? Just trust me.” Squeezing his hand so tight, to help him to understand why I’m doing this. Why I didn’t have a choice other than to accept their ‘offer’. To protect him from whatever they’re truly capable of. If I said no, they’d take it out on Michael, I know they would.

He takes a moment to respond. Taking me in from top to bottom and squeezing back a non-verbal response before speaking. With more understanding than I initially thought he’d be capable of granting, he nods, brings our hands up to his lips to ghost them over my knuckles and finally lets out a soft 'okay' with a gentle smile only meant for me. I mirror the sweetness in his face back, until the moment is interrupted.

“Well that’s just adorable.” David snorted, all too eager to have our attention not on each other.

“But if you’re finished I’d like to get back to the date you just agreed to.” He directed impatiently.

“Fine, but there are some ground rules we need to establish first.” I said.

“Oh?” questioned David. He seemed amused by my answer, curiosity slipping through at what I could possibly come up with.

“First, no kissing or inappropriate touching-”

Paul cut me off to complain, “damn babe, those are all my go-to moves.”

Dwayne swiftly takes it upon himself to reprimand the wild blonde with an elbow to the side and a ‘shut up Paul’. While said blonde untangles his arm from the taller man's shoulders to soothe his aching side with a look of exasperation, like he’d been completely put out by the interaction.

“Ow, I was only kinda kidding. You can’t hit me like that man, you know I'm sensitive.” He croaked out in a very childlike manner accompanied by a pouty bottom lip. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually got into the fetal position next with how dramatic of a person he seemed to be. In a different circumstance I would’ve found the exchange funny and how close the two are adorable.

Instead of dwelling, I decided to continue. “Second, we won’t be going anywhere private, we’ll be in public the whole time. Third, no threatening or hurting Michael for any reason. No matter what happens on our ‘date’ you don’t get to do anything to him.” Emphasizing date with a quick eye roll. I may have agreed to this but I don’t have to be happy about it.

Michael let out a small chuckle from my right before he leaned down to whisper in my ear “My hero.” I try my best to hold back the smile threatening to sneak its way past my serious demeanor but it’s useless and I crack. I can never seem to hold myself back when it comes to Michael, he pulls every part of me to the forefront, good or bad, he always embraces it with open arms and a warm smile.

“Is that all or do you have any more demands princex?” Marko piped in, once again directing our attention towards the boys in front of us.

“That’s all for now, but if I think of any more I’ll be sure to let you know promptly.” I finish with faux nicety and the sweetest smile I can muster.

Pulling a sarcastic laugh from him followed by an even more sarcastic “Can’t wait.”

It seems Marko and I will be having the most lively time together on our date, if we don’t kill each other first.

This time, I hear a genuine laugh come from the same curly headed boy. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I’m baffled at the comment. His joyous response sounded like it was directed at my previous thought, one I definitely thought to myself and didn’t voice aloud.

“Wait, I didn’t say anything. How-”

Paul decides to answer me first. “We've got all kinds of tricks we can show you baby”, with an additional cheeky grin thrown my way.

While David finishes with a “but we’ll save that for next time. We’ll meet back here tomorrow night where we usually park the bikes, right after sunset. Don’t be late.” He looks between Michael and I as the quartet begin to make their leave. Each boy giving their own version of a goodbye with waves and ‘catch ya laters’ till they’ve vanished from underneath the boardwalk back towards the stairs.

“So…we should probably get home and maybe figure out what the hell you just agreed to.” Michael announces after a bout of silence following the departure.

After Michael drives us back home, he seems to be in a better mood than I expected. He’s acting like his old self again, not letting go of my hand or some part of my body since we arrived. The truth coming out makes him much more at ease, which I can appreciate. The rest of the family noticed his sudden presence at the dinner table with stunned expressions, Sam even commenting ‘what were you dying for moms lasagna or something bud?’ as Lucy shoo’s that off with a wave of her hand and says she’s happy to see everyone together again for dinner with a beaming smile along her face, quickly changing the topic to grandpa’s aversion to giving him an overdue haircut.

Later on, Michael and I found ourselves in the bedroom we share. After a lengthy discussion of the night to come and having to only calm him down a couple of times from leaving to find the boys again and telling them to fuck off, we agree on sticking it out just for tomorrow. After the dates I tell them it won’t work and we can put this mess behind us, hopefully. The matter of Michael being a bloodthirsty creature of the night has yet to be discussed.

“I still don’t like this plan, just so we’re clear.” He proceeds to tell me one final time as we start to lay down to sleep with a few hours of darkness left cloaking the sky before dawn breaks.

“We don’t have any other options…unless one of your new special tricks includes time travel to before you met them.” I jokingly tack on as I cuddle further into his side.

He releases a light chuckle while rubbing my back soothingly. “Sadly no, that’s not in my abilities.”

“It’ll be okay.” I say, not certain if it’s more for his sake or my own. He silently agrees with a kiss to my forehead and a soft goodnight as we both fall asleep in the comfort of this small window of time we have together.

Michael and I silently wake up just hours before we would need to leave, having mostly slept the day away together. As dusk quickly approaches, getting ready seemed an easier task than I initially anticipated. He showers after me and dresses in his usual attire of blue jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and his newly acquired leather jacket that I can’t help but start to like the more I see him in it. While I put on a nice tank top, black jean shorts, and sneakers, dressing fairly casual but also something I would wear on a date with Michael. My outfit showed a bit more skin due to the heat.

He gives me a once over before asking ‘Is that new?’ as he points to my top. I nod with a look of ‘yeah why?’ and he only shakes his head back before answering, “nothing, you just look nice…and not to sound like a jealous boyfriend but…I can’t say i’m happy seeing you wear something new for them.”

“Hey I can chan-”

“No.” He stops me before I begin. “Like I said you look good and I’ll just have to get over the fact that they’re getting to be with you tonight and not me, when all I want to do now is rip your outfit to shreds and toss you back in that bed till morning.” He says, as he grabs my hips pulling me into a heated kiss. Only allowing himself to pull back as I’m gasping for air.

“Very tempting offer.” I breathlessly snicker while running my hands through his thick head of curls. He pulls me back in for one more peck and reluctantly drags me along to the front door so we can head out.

We arrive at the boardwalk and Michael parks his bike exactly where David said they’d be, watching the crowd go by and laughing amongst themselves till we’ve made our way into the group beside them as they take notice. Michael helps me off his bike as we stand in front of them, hands still intertwined.

David looks at us like it’s cute we’re still trying to hold up some type of front to the situation, and I guess in a way he’s right, they have the upper hand.

Surprisingly Marko is the first to speak, “And here I thought you were dreading going out with us, but by the looks of that outfit I’d say you were trying to put on a show, feel free to show off even more skin if you’d like.” It takes everything in my body to stay calm because I know that comment is only meant to get a rise out of me. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

After I take a soothing breath I reply, “It’s hot outside and I’d rather not keel over from overheating, that’s all.”

He leans closer with a smirk and gives a half-hearted “whatever you say sweetheart”, before leaning back and giggling like school girls about it with Paul. I simply roll my eyes and turn my attention back to David.

“Let’s go.” He announces to the group as we all start to follow his lead. Dwayne walks in stride with Michael and I, sandwiching me between them, with Marko and Paul tailing behind us. I decide to chance it and look at Dwayne as he leans down towards me, not breaking eye contact for even a moment as we continue to walk. “Don’t let him get to you, he just likes to ruffle feathers. But for what it’s worth, you look lovely.” His lips lift into a half smile, half smirk once he notices the heat rising to my cheeks at the complement. I attempt to brush it off with a quick ‘thanks’ and steal a glance at Michaels now taut jaw and lingering gaze on us. I turn my attention forward as Dwayne’s hand coyly slides up my waist and is gone again before I even have time to register it as he picks up his pace to step in time with David. Michael lets out a scoff and pulls me closer to his side by our joined hands.

David walked us to a section of restaurants with outdoor seating we could all gather at, choosing a wooden picnic bench for us. Michael and I are sitting on one bench with the two natural blondes and brunette sitting on the other, while David decides to grab a lone chair from a different table and pull it up on the side so he’s seated at the ‘head’ of the table.

“So how is this going to work exactly? Are we all doing this together or…?” I decide to voice my curiosity before the conversation inevitably gets side tracked or leads to another argument.

All eyes turn to David as he fills me in. “We’ll each take you out individually - Dwayne’s first.” Nodding his head in the direction of his friend. My own gaze found its way back to his dark brown eyes, that same smile from earlier plastered on. In that moment a wave of familiarity washed over me, like I’ve gotten lost in those eyes a million times before and would continue to do so for as long as I’d be allowed to stare into them. Like how it feels to look into Michaels.

Michael.

Remembering he’s sitting right next to me I shake the previous thoughts away and proceed to stand to meet Dwayne on the other side so we can get this night started already.

But I freeze in my tracks as it suddenly occurs to me that Michael will be all alone with the other boys for the rest of the evening, and the thought of him being tormented and teased about this situation he has no control over sends a pang of guilt through me. I decide I have to try and ease some of the tension, if I can.

“Wait- before we go I have another condition to add.”

David leans back in his chair with a raised brow, gloved fingers tapping along the table. “Yes?”

“If this is going to work you can’t be at each other's throats the whole time I'm gone. Michael told me that he barely knows anything about any of you and vice versa, so while I'm on each date the rest of you are going to stay here and get to know each other - like real friends.”

“What?”

“I’m serious, you’re not going to sit here all night and fuck with my boyfriend behind my back, I’m not asking.” I try to muster up as much confidence in my words as I'm sure David actually has naturally coursing through him. He only ponders what I've said momentarily before giving a strained smile that doesn’t exactly meet his eyes and mutters out a quick ‘sure’. Looking towards the others that slowly nod along in agreement - even if their faces say otherwise.

Now feeling better about leaving, I let Dwayne lead the way out of the seating area towards the crowds of people scattered along the boardwalk for whatever he had planned.

Michael turns back to the remaining boys seated with him after staring daggers into Dwayne's back before the two completely disappear from sight. He speaks up before the others can, to get the ball rolling. “Okay so…where should we start?” He sends them each a questioning glance.

David stares back with the most incredulous look he can muster, like he couldn’t believe he was actually going through with the ‘getting to know each other idea’. After a minute a mocking smile takes over his face.

“Yeah…” He draws out. “We’re not doing that.” He says with little room for push back.

Michael crosses his arms over his chest and nods his head in a similar mocking manner, amused by the reply. “You’ve got a lot to learn, they’ll come back and expect a full report on what we talked about, want specifics to make sure you followed through on your promise.”

“We’ll make something up.” David again says matter of factly.

Michael scoffs. “They’ll be able to tell if i’m lying, how do you think I ended up in this situation in the first place? I wasn’t able to keep what you did to me a secret.” The other boys may not want to participate in this but he’d be damned if he got into trouble for not at least trying to play nice.

“Alright, fine. I particularly enjoyed watching you get your ass chewed out in front of half the boardwalk last night. It was the highlight of my week.” David faux relents, like he’s shared intimate knowledge of himself only few know and pretends as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders with a content sigh. Stifled giggles from the terror twins echo in the background.

“You know what, the only one you’re hurting is yourself. Keep it up and they’ll want nothing to do with you. Which will be the highlight of my life.”

Silence followed Michaels statement as the two were now sat in a heated staring match. The tension in the air rapidly increased as neither one backed down. If looks could kill they’d both be six feet under. Even the blondes, who hadn’t said a word since the conversation began, were forced into an awkward stillness watching the interaction unfold, waiting for the underlying hostility to bubble over.

Paul decides someone has to try and mediate before this gets any uglier and, more importantly, his turn for a date is possibly soured by the oldest and newest member of their pack coming to blows. In his opinion the best way to deal with this would be to let them fight it out, but he knows the night can’t end with them covered in blood, scratches, and bite marks - unless they’re fucking.

All eyes are suddenly shifted to Paul as he clears his throat obnoxiously. “Uhhh…my favorite band is Mötley Crüe.” He says with a bright smile, proud that it actually worked since the boys' body languages were all seeming to relax.

Marko, good naturedly, pats Paul on the back as an ‘attaboy’ for the attempt.

As Dwayne and I continue walking through the boardwalk I feel one of his hands graze my lower back and rest there. I quickly snatch his wrist and pull it in front of me.

“I said no touching.” I admonish. Before I can drop it, he seizes the opportunity to grab my hand instead.

“I was only trying to guide you, but you’re right this way is better so we don’t get separated.”

“Right…” I probably should have put up more of a fight, but the crowd is double the size of last night's and we could easily lose each other. Not that I really believe his reason for wanting to hold my hand is so noble. I let it slide anyways.

We make small talk about movies and music as we venture through different stalls. Anytime he asks me a question I have to mentally prepare myself before answering. His intense gaze makes me apprehensive, it's like he’s enraptured by every word and I’m nervous if what I'm saying is even adequate. He hasn’t been judgemental yet, so I let his deep baritone put me at ease when he responds to something I’ve said.

He pulls us to a stop in front of an ice cream shop claiming it's the best in town and we should get some. After ordering and him paying for both of ours, we head towards the other side to lean against the railing while we eat. He watches as I dig out a spoonful of the sweet treat to taste. My eyes go wide from the first bite. He wasn’t kidding about how good it is and he seemed proud of himself once I told him exactly that.

After a few mouthfuls of his own, he silently gestures towards his cup asking if I’d like to try the flavor he had and I nod in agreement. He dips his spoon in and holds it to my mouth for me to try. I squint at it before making eye contact with him and before I can even get a word out he’s anticipated why I won't try it.

“You’re not cheating on Michael by tasting my ice cream.”

“No, but I’m not trying to swap spit by sharing a spoon.” I decline, while gently pushing his arm towards his own face to eat it and he does so with a chuckle.

He relents and allows me to try it with my own spoon. I, in turn, make him the same offer with my cup of ice cream.

Instead, he takes his thumb and swipes it across the corner of my mouth before bringing it back to his own and sucking on the digit.

“Pretty good.” He says casually.

I’m in shock as my whole body is set aflame from the intimate moment. He grants me a small mercy by not acknowledging how much it affected me. I proceed to eat the rest in silence knowing if I look him in the eye or, god forbid, try and have a conversation after that I’d be a stuttering mess.

He takes the lead once more by throwing out our trash and grabbing my hand to help me off the railing.

“Let’s check out a few pop up booths, there might be something there you like.” He says as he walks us in that direction.

“Like clothes and stuff?” I ask. I haven’t really explored the boardwalk before so I don’t know much about what they have or the best places to shop.

“Yeah, that’s usually where we pick something up if we need new clothes, that’s where Marko gets all his patches because they’re…cheap.”

“Do you even own a shirt?” I jest. “Because I’ve only ever seen you in just that jacket.”

He looks back at me with amusement in his eyes.

“I do, but the clean up from a night out is much easier without one.”

I give him a weary look and he tenses slightly like he said something he probably shouldn’t have.

“Do I want to know what that means?”

He shakes his head at me, “no, probably not.”

“Let’s just keep the conversation light for now.” I suggest, hoping not to dive into anything too heavy. I’ve enjoyed the mostly chill atmosphere so far and hope it can stay that way.

“Deal”, he says as he gives me a genuine smile as we continue on our way.

🖤 Taglist 🖤

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