#the woods is the only place I can see a clear path

[vinylfoxbooks]

September 20 - Fog | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 762

“Don’t go into the forest when the fog is out,” Effie warns a young James when she’s watching them run around the backyard and get close to the fence gate that leads to the forest behind their house. James was too scared to get near the forest at night, let alone when they can’t see anything. 

“Don’t go into the forest when the fog is out.” Marlene’s mum calls out to the three pre-teens while they’re playing ghost in the graveyard. Marlene moaned about it because she wanted to hide in the forest knowing that James and Pete were too scared of the forest to go there. “Don’t go into the forest when the fog is out.” Monty chides when Remus, James, Pete, Marlene, and the girls get too close to the fence during the week that they could all get together during the summer breaks. 

“Don’t go into the forest when the fog is out!” James calls to their drunken friends when they start stumbling towards the fence. 

James knows. They know not to go into the forest when the fog is out. They know that the forest is already hard to navigate at night -- they’ve done that enough with their free time now that they’re not afraid of the forest -- and they can imagine that it is twelve times harder when the fog has settled. 

But their attention had been grabbed at this point, because there was a pale figure standing at their fence line, pale but not ghost-like in that they were visible and they had black hair. James swears that they made eye contact with the figure before they walked away from the fence and swept away. So they’re grabbing a flashlight and heading out into the fog. 

They’re wandering into the woods for only so long before the same figure from before is peeking around a tree and once again making eye contact with James, heading further into the woods shortly after. As James chases them, they notice that the fog swirls around the figure’s feet, almost pushing away from them as to clear their path and they nearly glide through the forest -- which is impressive considering the amount of roots and odd terrain that is all over the place. 

Eventually, the figure turns around when they get into a clearing that James can barely see the edges of with how dense the fog is, “Why did you follow me?”

“Are you okay? What are you doing out here?”

The figure tilts their head a bit, “This is my home, why did you follow me now but never before?”

James furrows their brows, “I… I never saw you before.”

“You were scared of me.” He says, his voice deeper than James would’ve expected, and his eyes are stabbing into James with their ferocity, “You never saw me because you avoided me.”

“I wasn’t scared of you, I was scared of the woods.”

“You’re not scared of me?”

James shakes their head, “Who are you?”

“Regulus. I’ve lived in the woods a long time.”

“Are you the reason that people say not to go into the fog at night?”

Regulus shrugs, “I might be, the fog is my home.” He takes a couple steps towards James, slowly getting nearer. 

“And you’ve been wanting me to follow you into the forest.”

“I think you’re interesting, but you’ve never noticed me.” He grins slyly, almost directly in front of James by now, “Do you think I’m interesting? Is that why you followed me into the woods even when you’re not supposed to?”

“Interesting is… one way to put it.” 

“What way would you put it?”

“Attractive…” James hums, taking the final step until they’re chest to chest -- the boy is colder than James would’ve figured and has to tilt his head to continue meeting their eyes, “Pretty.”

“I find it odd that you think those are synonyms to interesting.”

“I find it odd that you lured me into the forest because you thought I was interesting.”

“I suppose.” Regulus’ grin widens, “And yet you followed, and you’re going to continue to follow me.” And with that, he grabs James’ wrist and pulls him out of the clearing and further into the forest. 

When James comes back out of the forest and slips through the gate leading into his backyard, they’ve got new bruises on their neck and their hair is messier and more grass filled than it was when they left. Luckily, since it is so late and the fog has scared everyone off, no one sees their messy state.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

[stylesispunk]

"Did the love affair maim you too?" | Part iv

Joel Miller x f!reader

previous part | next part

chapter summary: After almost losing you, Joel does everything he can to get you back.

w.c: 14k (idk why all chapters are this long, sorry this is a filler chapter)

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, feelings of cheating, reader cries a lot, miscommunication, fluff, and poorly written smut. No proofreading, sorry.

a/n: chapter four was supposed to be the last one but I keep writing many words. Thank you so much for the love you have shown to this story so far, you will finally see the light in this chapter, so much love for you. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel’s heart hasn’t been beating this rapidly since that night.

Running desperately behind Tommy as they made their way back through the darkened woods, moving as quickly as they could while still being careful not to jostle you too much.

He could still feel the warmth of your skin irradiating his hands as the rest of the world around him felt distant, blurred by the sole focus on keeping you alive. Every breath you took, every faint whisper of your voice, was a reminder that you were still here, still fighting.

Tommy’s own fear was evident in the urgency of his movements. He kept glancing back at his older brother with you on his arms. The silence between the two of them felt heavy, filled with the unspoken dread of what might happen if they didn’t make it back to Jackson in time.

Tommy feared what might be the consequences for him if you wouldn’t make out alive of this.

The guilty.

The regret.

The madness.

The what if.

When the lights of Jackson came into view, Tommy felt like breathing again. Looking behind him, if he could see the same light on Joel’s face, he only saw his brother's fastness of pace.

As they approached the gates, Tommy called out to the guards, who quickly opened the gates for them, their faces showing shock and concern as they saw the state you were in.

Your clothes were dripping in blood, and Joel’s didn’t know if that was all yours at this time.

He was terrified.

“Get the infirmary ready!” Tommy shouted as they hurried through the gates, his voice commanding and urgent. The guards and townspeople quickly sprang into action, clearing a path and rushing ahead to prepare for your arrival.

Joel didn’t let go of you, even as they reached the infirmary. He carried you inside, his arms trembling from the effort but refusing to let go. Dr. Ramirez was already there, Maria with her, her face pale with worry as she saw you in that state.

“Get her on the table,” Dr. Ramirez instructed, moving quickly to clear the space as the other doctor joined her. Joel reluctantly laid you down, his hands hovering over you as if afraid to leave your side.

“We need space to work,” Dr. Ramirez said gently but firmly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You need to step back.”

Joel looked like he was about to argue, his eyes locked on your now pale face, but Tommy stepped in, guiding him away from the table. “Let them do their job, Joel,” he said quietly, his voice laced with his own anxiety. “They’ll take care of her.”

Joel stood there, his heart pounding as he watched the medics swarm around you, their hands moving swiftly as they assessed your injuries and began to save your life. He felt helpless, every instinct screaming at him to protect you, but all he could do was stand there and wait, praying that you would pull through.

Maria approached Joel, her face etched with concern. “She’s strong, Joel,” she said softly, trying to offer some comfort. “She’ll get through this.”

But Joel could only nod numbly, his eyes never leaving your still form as the medics worked to save your life. The weight of everything he had almost lost bore down on him, and all he could do was hope that it wasn’t too late.

In the midst of the chaos, as the medics worked quickly and urgently around you, you reached out with a trembling hand, searching for something familiar, something to anchor you in the middle of the pain and fear you felt. Your fingers brushed against Joel’s hand, and you gripped it tightly, as if holding on for dear life.

Joel’s breath caught in his throat as he felt your touch. He immediately clasped your hand in both of his, his grip firm yet gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you but even more afraid to let go.

“I’m here,” he whispered, leaning closer to you, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here, sunshine. I’m not going anywhere.”

The medics continued to work, their hands moving with practiced efficiency, but for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just you and Joel, connected by that small, desperate touch.

Your eyes fluttered open, just barely, and you looked up at him, your gaze clouded with pain. “Joel…”

“Shh, don’t talk,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a soothing motion. “Save your strength. Just keep holding on, okay?”

You nodded weakly, your grip on his hand tightening for a brief moment before your strength waned again. But you didn’t let go, and neither did he.

In that moment, as the medics fought to save your life, Joel realized just how deeply he cared for you. The thought of losing you was unbearable, and he silently vowed to do whatever it took to make sure you made it through this.

Tommy stood nearby, watching the scene unfold with a heavy heart, understanding the depth of his brother's feelings without a word being spoken. He placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder, offering silent support as they both stood vigil, waiting for the moment when the worst would pass and you could finally be safe again.

"Hold her hand," Dr. Ramirez instructed, knowing that the pain would be intense as she began to stitch your wound. "She’s going to need you to keep her grounded."

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. He tightened his grip on your hand, leaning in closer so you could feel his presence and hear his voice. "I’m right here," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You hold on to me, okay?"

You nodded weakly, your face pale and glistening with sweat. The pain was unbearable—a searing, white-hot agony that tore through your body as the doctor prepared to stitch the wound. You gritted your teeth, but as soon as the needle pierced your skin, a scream tore from your throat, raw and desperate.

Joel winced, his heart shattering at the sound of your pain, but he didn’t let go. He squeezed your hand tighter, his other hand brushing your hair back from your face in a comforting gesture. "I know it hurts, sunshine, I know," he murmured, his voice steady even though he was breaking inside. "But you’ve got to hold on. Just a little longer, okay?"

Dr. Ramirez worked quickly, her hands steady and sure as she stitched your wound, but the pain was relentless. Each stitch felt like fire, and you cried out again, your body writhing involuntarily on the table.

"Look at me," Joel urged, his voice a lifeline in the sea of pain. "Keep your eyes on me. I’m not letting go."

Your gaze found his, your eyes wide and filled with tears, but you focused on him—on the sound of his voice, on the feel of his hand in yours. It was the only thing that kept you from losing yourself in the agony.

"That’s it," he whispered, his thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "You’re doing so good. Just a little bit longer, and this’ll all be over."

Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, the pain overwhelming, but you clung to his hand like a lifeline. His voice and his touch were the only things keeping you grounded, and you held on with everything you had.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor tied off the last stitch and stepped back, her expression one of relief. "We’re done," she said softly, wiping her hands on a towel. “We need to keep her wound from an infection.”

Joel let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did it, sunshine," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of pride and relief. "You’re going to be okay."

The pain was still there, a dull, throbbing ache, but as the worst of it began to ebb away, you felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you. You managed a small, tired smile up at Joel, your eyes heavy with the need for rest.

"Stay with me," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Don’t leave me."

"Never," Joel promised, his voice choked with emotion. "I’m not going anywhere."

As the last stitch was secured, the intense pain began to subside, leaving you drained and trembling. The doctor stepped back, wiping her hands as she gave a nod of reassurance to Joel.

"You’re going to be alright," she said softly, her voice a gentle balm in the quiet room. "Get some rest now. You need it."

You felt the weight of exhaustion pulling you down, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment. The pain had dulled to a steady throb, and your body, finally allowed a reprieve, craved the relief of sleep.

"Stay with me," you whispered again, your voice barely above a murmur as you looked up at Joel. Your grip on his hand loosened, not out of fear, but out of sheer weariness.

"I’m right here," Joel replied, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned closer. "I’m not going anywhere, sunshine. You rest now."

You managed a faint smile, comforted by his presence, and let your eyes drift shut. The world around you began to fade, the sounds of the infirmary growing distant as sleep took hold.

Joel watched as your breathing slowed, your face relaxing into a peaceful expression. He kept his hand in yours, even as your grip slackened completely, his thumb gently brushing against your skin.

He stayed by your side, his own heart finally starting to calm, as he whispered, "I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go. Never again."

Joel sat by your side, his fingers gently brushing the strands of hair away from your face. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he were afraid you might break under his hands. He watched your chest rise and fall with each breath, the steady rhythm a small comfort after the chaos of the night.

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his eyes never leaving your face. He took in every detail—the curve of your lips, the way your lashes rested softly against your cheeks, the slight furrow in your brow that lingered even in sleep. It was as if he were memorizing you, committing this moment to memory, a reminder that you were here, alive, and safe.

Lost in his thoughts, Joel didn’t hear Tommy approach until his brother’s voice broke through the silence.

“Joel,” Tommy said softly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You should get some rest. She’s gonna be fine. The doc said so.”

Joel didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on you. He knew Tommy was right, knew that he needed sleep, but the thought of leaving you, even for a moment, felt impossible.

“I can’t,” Joel finally murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. “I can’t leave her, Tommy. Not after everything…”

Tommy sighed, his heart aching for his brother. He could see the toll the night had taken on Joel—the worry etched into his face, the exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. He crouched down beside him, trying to meet Joel’s gaze.

“I know you’re scared,” Tommy said quietly. “But she’s strong. She made it through, and she’ll keep fighting. But you—you need to take care of yourself too, Joel. You can’t help her if you’re running on empty.”

Joel finally tore his eyes away from you, looking at Tommy with a mixture of gratitude and stubbornness. “I just… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I could survive it.”

Tommy’s expression softened, understanding the depth of Joel’s fear. He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, offering a small, reassuring smile. “You won’t lose her, Joel. She’s not going anywhere. But you need to be strong for her, and that means getting some rest. I’ll stay here with her. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Joel hesitated, his gaze flickering back to you. The thought of leaving, even just to lie down, felt wrong. But he knew Tommy was right; he was barely holding on, and you needed him to be strong.

Joel shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "No, Tommy," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I'm staying with her."

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but the look on Joel's face stopped him. There was a quiet resolve in Joel's expression, a fierce protectiveness that Tommy knew all too well. He had seen it before, back when Joel would do anything to keep the people he cared about safe. And now, with you lying there so vulnerable, Tommy knew there was no convincing his brother to leave your side.

"Alright," Tommy finally said, his tone gentle. "But you need to rest too, Joel. Even just for a little while. I’ll be here, watching over both of you.”

Joel didn’t respond, his focus entirely on you as you slept. His thumb continued to trace soothing patterns on the back of your hand, grounding himself in the simple act of holding on to you. He could see the tension slowly easing from your features, the pain and exhaustion giving way to a deeper, more peaceful sleep.

Tommy sighed softly, pulling up a chair beside Joel. “I’ll stay right here,” he promised, his voice low. “You don’t have to worry about anything. We’re all here for you and for her.”

Joel nodded, acknowledging his brother’s presence, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. He couldn’t. The thought of closing his eyes, even for a second, felt impossible. What if you needed him? What if something happened while he wasn’t watching?

He didn’t want to miss a thing.

So he stayed, his hand never leaving yours, his eyes tracing the familiar contours of your face as if to reassure himself that you were still there, still breathing, still alive. The fear that had gripped him so tightly was still there, but it was tempered by the warmth of your hand in his, the steady rhythm of your breath, and the quiet strength that you always seemed to carry.

“Get some rest, Joel,” Tommy urged quietly, but Joel simply shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Joel murmured, though the exhaustion in his voice was evident. “I just need to be here.”

Tommy watched his brother for a moment, seeing the depth of love and fear in Joel’s eyes. He knew better than to push. Joel would rest when he was ready, and not a moment before. So, instead, Tommy settled into his chair, keeping watch alongside his brother, the two of them united in their silent vigil over you.

And as the hours passed, Joel remained by your side, his hand wrapped around yours, his gaze never wavering. Because in that moment, nothing mattered more to him than being there for you, making sure you knew that no matter what, he would always be there, holding on, and never letting go.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the small window of the infirmary, you slowly began to stir. The world around you was a haze, the remnants of pain and exhaustion still weighing heavily on your body. You blinked slowly, your vision clearing enough to make out the room around you.

It took you a moment to realize that Joel was there, his head resting on your chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. He was asleep; his face relaxed in a way that you hadn’t seen in a long time. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and close, brought a faint smile to your lips despite the weakness that still coursed through your body.

You tried to lift your hand to touch him, to reassure yourself that this moment was real, but even that small movement felt like too much. Your body was still recovering, every muscle aching, every breath a reminder of the ordeal you had been through.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and barely audible.

He didn’t stir at first, his breathing steady and deep, his exhaustion evident in the way he clung to you even in sleep. But as you tried again, your fingers brushing lightly against his hair, he began to wake, his body tensing as he slowly lifted his head.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but relief in his expression, a flood of emotion that he couldn’t quite hide. He sat up quickly, his hand instinctively moving to check your bandages to make sure you were really okay.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, his voice thick with sleep and something deeper, something that made your heart ache.

You nodded weakly, your throat too dry to speak again. But your eyes said everything—how grateful you were that he was there, how much it meant to you to wake up and find him by your side.

Joel reached for a cup of water on the bedside table, carefully helping you take a few sips. “Easy,” he murmured, his touch gentle as he held the cup to your lips. “You need to take it slow.”

You did as he said, letting the cool water soothe your parched throat. When you had drunk enough, he set the cup aside and turned his full attention back to you, his hand resting on your shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” Joel said, his voice filled with regret. “I should have been awake when you needed me.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the weakness that still gripped you. “You were here, Joel,” you whispered.

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with so much emotion that it almost overwhelmed you. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly, his voice trembling. “But you’re here. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded again, your heart swelling with gratitude and something else, something deeper that you couldn’t quite put into words. You were too tired to say more, too weak to do anything but close your eyes and let the warmth of his presence wash over you.

As you drifted back into sleep, your eyes fluttering shut, Joel felt a jolt of fear surge through him. Your sudden stillness, the way your body relaxed completely, sent a wave of panic crashing over him. His heart pounded in his chest as he gently shook your shoulder, trying to wake you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” Joel urged, his voice thick with fear. “Don’t go to sleep again. What’s happening?”

He looked around frantically for someone, anyone, to help. His hands trembled as he touched your face, feeling the coolness of your skin. “Doc! Doc, get in here!” Joel’s voice was desperate, echoing through the infirmary as he called out for help.

Within moments, the doctor and a nurse rushed into the room, their expressions serious as they approached the bed. Joel reluctantly stepped back, his eyes never leaving your face, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

“What’s happening to her?” Joel demanded, his voice breaking with emotion as he watched the doctor check your pulse and examine your condition.

“She’s okay,” the doctor said calmly, sensing Joel’s distress. “Her body is just exhausted. She needs to rest. The sleep is a good sign—it means she’s healing.”

Joel’s heart rate started to slow, but the fear still clung to him, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. “But she just went limp,” he said, his voice still shaking. “I thought—”

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder. “I understand. It’s scary, but I promise you, she’s stable. Her body needs time to recover, and sleep is the best thing for her right now.”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his eyes returning to your sleeping form. He slowly sank back into the chair beside your bed, his hand instinctively reaching for yours again. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of his mind, but the doctor’s words gave him some comfort.

“Just make sure she’s okay,” Joel whispered, his voice barely audible as he watched you sleep. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, not after everything that had happened.

The doctor nodded, giving Joel a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back, leaving the room in the quiet of the early morning. The nurse adjusted your IV and checked your bandages, ensuring everything was in order before quietly exiting as well.

Joel stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours as he watched you breathe, each rise and fall of your chest a small comfort to him. He leaned back in his chair, exhaustion finally catching up to him, but he refused to let himself sleep again.

He couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.

That was the last time you opened your eyes.

For the past three days you had been lost in a slumber, healing. Perhaps from the internal wounds you had to recover yet from, the tiredness from your body, the emotional exhaustion you had been through, not only during that night but from the day Joel had appeared in your life.

And he hadn’t left your side.

For the past three days he had been sitting next to you, terrified of not being there the moment you would open your eyes.

He had made you a promise; he would never leave you again. As controlling as it sounded, he was afraid of letting you out of his sight. He was terrified of you never waking up again.

But he was mostly terrified of not being able to love you and show you he meant it.

He meant those three words the night he had made love to you.

Of course, his memories had come back the moment you almost left earth, as a reminder, perhaps, of how good you were to him.

He thought of Sarah, of how it was her who saved you to give her dad a chance to become the sweet man he once was.

For him, for you, and for the sake of a story he wanted to write.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh sunlight, allowing only a gentle glow to filter in. Joel sat by your bedside, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but unwilling to close. The past three days had been a blur—a mix of fear, hope, and unrelenting determination. He refused to let go of your hand, as if the physical connection would somehow anchor you to this world and keep you from slipping away.

Your breathing was steady, your face peaceful in sleep, but every time Joel looked at you, he was reminded of how close he had come to losing you. The thought of it made his heart clench.

For the past three days, he had been preparing for the moment you would open your eyes, knowing that when you did, everything would be different. He wanted to be ready, to be the man you deserved, to give you the love and life you both had been searching for.

So, he stayed by your side, his eyes never leaving you, waiting for the moment when you would wake up and see that he was there, just as he promised.

The quiet of the room was interrupted by the soft creak of the door as it opened. Joel’s attention snapped to the movement, his body instinctively tensing. When Lori stepped inside, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face visibly tightened.

Lori hesitated in the doorway, her eyes flickering between you and Joel. There was a hint of guilt in her expression and in the way she slipped into the room.

“Joel,” she began, her voice low, almost cautious.

Joel didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slowly stood up, his hand still holding yours, as if to remind both Lori and himself who he was protecting. His gaze was icy, his anger barely contained.

“What are you doing here?” Joel’s voice was cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth he had shown you moments before.

Lori shifted uncomfortably, clearly sensing the tension. “I came to check on her,” she said, trying to keep her tone steady. “I wanted to see how she’s doing.”

“She’s not your concern,” Joel snapped, his words laced with bitterness. “You’ve done enough.”

Lori flinched at his harshness, but she didn’t back down. “I know I messed up, Joel. But I’m not here to make excuses. I just… I just needed to see for myself that she’s okay.”

Joel’s eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t get to care now,” he said through gritted teeth. “You left her out there to die, Lori. You made your choice.”

Lori’s expression faltered, the guilt finally breaking through her resolve. “I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I can’t take back what I did. But I never wanted her to get hurt. I was just trying to protect everyone.”

“Protect?” Joel echoed, his voice rising in disbelief. “You call that protecting? You abandoned her. You put her life at risk to save your own skin. That’s not protecting. That’s cowardice.”

“Okay. You’re right. I wanted her death or out of our lives.” She said, clearly ashamed of her actions.

Joel’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as Lori's confession hung in the air. The raw truth of her words sent a wave of cold fury through him, so intense that for a moment he couldn’t speak. His grip on the edge of the bed tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"You wanted her dead or gone?" Joel’s voice was low, barely more than a growl. Each word was laced with disbelief and anger. “And you think that makes it better? That somehow, admitting it makes what you did okay?”

Lori couldn’t meet his gaze, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her shame. “No, it doesn’t. I was wrong, Joel. I see that now. I was selfish, and I let my fear get the better of me. But I never really wanted this—her lying there like this. I just didn’t know what to do.”

Joel stepped closer to her, his posture rigid with anger. “You didn’t know what to do, so you decided to let her die? Is that your excuse? She trusted you, Lori. We all did. And you betrayed her.”

Lori flinched as if his words had physically struck her. “I never wanted it to go this far,” she murmured, tears welling up in her eyes.

“If you wanted revenge for how I ended things between us, you could hurt me, not her. She had nothing to do with all this mess.” He said, voice cracking.

Lori's eyes widened as Joel's words sank in, the reality of her actions hitting her like a punch to the gut. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, streaming down her face as she looked at Joel, her expression a mixture of regret and sorrow.

"I wasn’t thinking straight, Joel," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I was angry, hurt, and I lashed out in the worst way possible. But I swear, I never meant for her to get caught up in this. I was just so blinded by my own pain… I couldn’t see past it."

Joel shook his head, his own emotions a storm raging just beneath the surface. "You don’t get to hide behind your pain, Lori. We all have our demons, but what you did—what you almost cost me—it’s unforgivable."

“I know,” Lori whispered, her voice thick with guilt. “I let my anger control me, and I ended up hurting the person you care about most. I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I needed to say it. I was wrong, and I’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Sorry isn’t enough, Lori. Not for this. I almost lost her because of you. The only reason I’m standing here right now is because she fought like hell to survive. But what you did—" he broke off, his voice faltering as the weight of the situation threatened to overwhelm him.

Lori wiped at her tears, nodding slowly. "You’re right. There’s nothing I can say or do to fix this. But I want you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right, even if it means leaving Jackson. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I can make sure it never happens again."

Joel stared at her, his heart aching with the knowledge that the person who had once been a close ally had become a source of such deep betrayal. Finally, he let out a long, weary sigh. "I don’t care what you do, Lori. Whether you stay or go, it doesn’t matter to me. Just… stay away from her. If you really want to make amends, you stay out of her life."

Lori nodded, her shoulders slumping in defeat, turning and leaving the room, her footsteps echoing softly in the silence. Joel watched her go, his heart heavy with a mix of anger, sadness, and a deep, unshakeable fear of what might have happened if he hadn’t found you in time.

As the door clicked shut, Joel’s gaze returned to you, lying so still and fragile in the bed. The anger that had fueled him moments ago began to fade, replaced by an overwhelming need to protect you, to never let anything come between you again.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek. "I’m still here, sunshine," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "And I’m not going anywhere.”

A few minute later, Dr. Ramirez entered the room quietly, her presence calm and reassuring. She approached the bedside with practiced ease, her eyes quickly scanning your vitals before she looked over at Joel. His hand was still resting on your cheek, and he didn’t move as the doctor began her examination.

"She’s stable," Dr. Ramirez said softly after a moment, her tone measured but gentle. "The worst is behind her now. But she needs time, Joel.

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "She’s been through hell," he muttered, his voice rough with the strain of the last few days. "I just… I just want her to wake up, to be okay."

Dr. Ramirez paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him. "I understand how hard this is for you. But you need to take care of yourself too, Joel. She’s going to need you when she wakes up, and you’ll be no good to her if you’re running on empty."

Joel finally tore his eyes away from you to meet Dr. Ramirez’s gaze. "I’m fine," he insisted, though the exhaustion etched into his features told a different story.

Dr. Ramirez sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "You’re not fine. You’ve been sitting here for days, barely eating or sleeping. She’s going to need you at your best, Joel. You can’t help her if you don’t take care of yourself."

Joel clenched his jaw, his gaze dropping back to you. "I can’t leave her," he said quietly, his voice laced with a deep-seated fear. "What if she wakes up and I’m not here? What if she needs me and I’m not…"

"She’s going to need you," Dr. Ramirez interrupted gently, "but she’s also going to need you strong. Trust me, Joel. We’ll take good care of her while you rest. Just a few hours, get something to eat, maybe sleep a little. It doesn’t mean you’re abandoning her."

Joel hesitated, torn between his overwhelming need to stay by your side and the doctor’s rational advice. Finally, he sighed, a long, weary exhale that seemed to deflate him. "Just a few hours," he agreed reluctantly. "But I’m not going far."

Dr. Ramirez gave him a small, understanding smile. "That’s all I’m asking. Go get some rest, Joel. She’ll be here when you get back, I promise."

Joel looked at you one last time, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’ll be back soon," he whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the sprawling landscape before you. The two of you had been out on patrol for hours, the silence between you heavy and tense, as it often was. Ever since Joel had been assigned as your partner, the air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You didn’t see eye to eye on much, and every patrol seemed like a test of patience.

But this time, something was different. Maybe it was the way the light hit the mountains in the distance, or the rare moment of peace that seemed to settle over the world, but you found yourself drawn to the view, momentarily forgetting the usual friction between you.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Joel. Your eyes were fixed on the horizon, the colors of the sunset reflecting in them, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Joel, who had been keeping watch as usual, turned his head slightly at the sound of your voice. He followed your gaze to the landscape, expecting to feel the same cold detachment he always did, the necessity to focus on the mission, on survival.

But when he looked, his eyes didn’t linger on the mountains or the sky. Instead, they stayed on you. The way the fading light caught in your hair, the way your expression softened as you took in the beauty of the scene.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and uncharacteristically gentle. For once, there was no edge to his tone, no underlying frustration or impatience. Just quiet, genuine agreement.

You turned to look at him, surprised to hear him agreeing with you for once. “Really?” you asked, a hint of skepticism in your voice. “You think so?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours for a moment longer than usual. “Yeah,” he repeated, his gaze steady, but there was something unspoken in his eyes, something that caught you off guard. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

For a brief moment, the tension between you melted away, replaced by something warmer, something almost tender. It was fleeting, barely lasting more than a few heartbeats, but it was enough to make your chest tighten.

Joel quickly looked away, clearing his throat as if to dispel the moment. “We should get moving,” he muttered, his usual gruffness returning as he adjusted the strap on his rifle.

“Right,” you agreed, returning to the task at hand. But as you resumed your patrol, the moment lingered in the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to Joel than you had thought.

Joel had been dreaming of you in his hours of sleep, the fleeting images pulling him into memories that felt too real. In his dreams, you weren’t lying in a bed, fighting to recover; you were beside him, alive and vibrant, with that same determined fire in your eyes that had always made him admire you, even when the two of you clashed.

In one dream, the two of you were back on patrol, your laughter echoing in the open air as you teased him about something trivial, your voice full of life. In another, you were at Jackson, sitting by the fireplace, your eyes locked onto his as you talked about your hopes for the future—a future he hadn’t dared to hope for until you came into his life.

But the dreams always ended the same way. You would start to fade, your voice growing distant, your figure slipping away from him no matter how hard he tried to hold on. He would reach out for you, only to find his arms empty, the warmth of your presence replaced by a cold, haunting emptiness.

And then, he would wake up, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes would immediately dart to you, lying so still in the bed, and he would lean in close, needing to hear the soft sound of your breathing to reassure himself that you were still with him.

The dreams left him feeling raw and exposed, the fear of losing you gnawing at him even in sleep. He couldn’t shake the image of you slipping away, couldn’t rid himself of the overwhelming sense of dread that had taken root in his heart.

Joel had been trying to shake off the remnants of his dreams as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing cold water on his face. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to scrub away the exhaustion that clung to him. After three days of barely leaving your side, he had finally allowed himself a brief moment to freshen up, his mind still heavy with the images of his dreams.

The water did little to wash away the lingering fear, but he steeled himself, forcing his hands to stop trembling. He couldn’t afford to be weak now—not when you needed him to be strong. He dried his face, straightened his shirt, and took a deep breath before heading back to the infirmary.

As he approached the door, the sound of soft laughter reached his ears. It was Ellie’s voice, her words light and teasing, and he could hear you responding, your voice soft but undeniably awake. A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You were awake. You were okay.

But when he stepped into the room, his heart lifting at the sight of you, his smile faltered. Ellie was perched on the edge of your bed, animatedly talking about something, her hands moving in excited gestures. And you—you were smiling at her, a faint but genuine smile that lit up your face in a way he hadn’t seen in days.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching the two of you. The sight of you smiling, your eyes bright with life, should have filled him with relief. But when your eyes flickered up to meet his, the smile faded from your lips, replaced by an expression he couldn’t quite read.

The air between you shifted, the lightness that had been in the room moments ago dissipating as the tension settled in its place. Ellie, oblivious to the change, continued to talk, but Joel’s attention was locked on you, searching your face for any hint of what you were feeling.

He took a tentative step forward, his hand twitching at his side as if he wanted to reach out to you, but something held him back. The way your smile had disappeared, the way you looked at him now with that guarded expression—it made him hesitate.

“Hey,” he finally said, his voice rougher than he intended. He tried to soften it, to push past the wall that seemed to have sprung up between you in those few seconds. “You’re awake.”

Ellie, noticing the shift in the room, glanced between the two of you before quickly excusing herself. “I’ll let you guys talk,” she said, shooting you a small smile before slipping out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving just the two of you in the room. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating, and Joel struggled to find the right words to say.

“You’re looking better,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. He took another step closer, his eyes scanning your face for any sign that you were in pain. “How are you feeling?”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket covering you.

“Better,” you replied, your voice soft and devoid of the warmth he had just heard when you were talking to Ellie.

Joel felt a pang in his chest at the distance in your tone, the way you seemed to be pulling away from him even though you were right there in front of him. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had opened up between you, but he didn’t know how.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, the words heavy with everything he hadn’t yet had the chance to say. But your reaction—or lack thereof—kept him from saying more.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the blanket in your lap, your hands still twisting the fabric. It was as if the connection between you had been severed, and Joel couldn’t figure out how to mend it.

He had spent three days by your side, terrified of losing you, and now that you were awake, he was faced with the fear that he had lost you in a different way. The warmth he had clung to, the hope he had nurtured while you were unconscious, now felt like it had been swept away by a cold, unrelenting storm.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," Joel finally said, the words heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. He didn’t know what else to say, how to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

You looked up at him then, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of the connection you once had. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something colder, something that made him feel as if the ground was slipping out from under him.

"No, you're not," you replied, your voice steady but edged with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. "You feel guilty."

Joel flinched at your words, but he couldn’t deny them. Guilt had been gnawing at him since the moment he had found you, bleeding and broken, on that floor. He had replayed every moment in his mind, every decision he had made, every step he had taken, wondering if there was something—anything—he could have done differently to prevent this.

"I do," he admitted, his voice raw. "I feel guilty because I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you. But I wasn’t, and you almost…"

He couldn’t finish the sentence, the thought of what could have happened too much to bear.

"But that’s not the same as being sorry," you said, your tone flat, as if you were trying to keep your emotions in check. "You’re not sorry that it happened; you’re just sorry that you feel this way."

Joel felt like the air had been knocked out of him. He had spent days agonizing over you, terrified of losing you, and now, faced with your coldness, he didn’t know what to do.

"I am sorry," he insisted, though even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t enough. It didn’t capture the depth of his regret, the overwhelming sorrow he felt for what you had gone through. "I’m sorry for all of it."

 “I know what Lori was doing,” you continued, your voice steady but laced with pain. “She wanted me gone, and it’s because of something you caused.”

Joel felt the weight of his guilt press down on him even harder. He had suspected Lori’s intentions, had seen the tension between the two of you, but he hadn’t fully understood the depth of her animosity. Now, hearing it from you, he realized just how much he had failed to protect you—not just physically, but emotionally as well.

“I never wanted you to get caught up in that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I… I didn’t see how far she’d go. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change what happened,” you replied, your eyes meeting his, filled with a mixture of hurt and anger. “I didn’t deserve to pay for your mistakes, Joel”

“Are you blaming me for this?” Joel asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and hurt. He didn’t want to let anger take over, but the disappointment and frustration were clear in his tone. He had come to terms with his own guilt, but hearing you lay the blame at his feet was like reopening a wound he thought he was beginning to heal.

You met his gaze, your eyes sharp with the pain of what you had endured. “I’m not blaming you for everything,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I can’t ignore the fact that your choices put me in danger.

Joel’s expression softened, the weight of your words hitting him like a blow. He knew you were right, but hearing it from you, seeing the pain in your eyes, made it all the more real. “I never wanted you to get hurt,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “If I could take it all back, I would.”

“But you can’t,” you said, your voice firm despite the emotion in your eyes. “And now we’re here, dealing with the consequences.”

The room felt heavy with the tension between you, the silence stretching as both of you struggled to find the right words. Joel’s heart ached with the realization that no matter how much he wished he could go back and change things, the damage had been done.

“I didn’t deserve this, Joel,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of whatever you and Lori had going on. I was just… I was just trying to survive and help.”

Joel took a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to touch you, but he hesitated, unsure if you would welcome the gesture. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I know it’s going to take time for you to feel safe again.”

You looked at him, your heart conflicted. The fear of being hurt again loomed large, but there was also a part of you that wanted to believe him, to trust that he could be the man he promised to be.

“I’m tired” you said finally, your voice softer now.

Joel’s heart clenched at your words. The weariness in your voice was palpable, not just from the physical toll of your injuries but from the emotional exhaustion that had been building for so long. He could see it in your eyes, the way they held a mixture of pain, fear, and uncertainty.

“I know you are,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired too.”

He wanted to close the distance between you, to offer some kind of comfort, but he knew that it wasn’t just physical closeness you needed. It was reassurance, a reason to believe that things could be different, that he could be different.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Joel continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling. “But I’m here. I’ll stay right here, as long as you need just as I promise.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words. There was a sincerity in his gaze that made your heart ache, but the fear of letting him in again, of being vulnerable, was still there, holding you back.

Just as you were about to respond, the door creaked open, and Tommy stepped into the room, his presence a stark contrast to the heavy conversation that had just taken place. He glanced between you and Joel, sensing the tension in the air. His usually easygoing demeanor was replaced by a look of concern.

“Hey,” Tommy said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “How are you holding up?”

You offered him a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m… I’m okay,” you replied, though the truth was far more complicated.

Tommy nodded, his gaze shifting to Joel. There was a silent exchange between the two brothers, a shared understanding that didn’t need words. Tommy could see the toll the past few days had taken on both of you, and he knew how much Joel was struggling to keep it together.

“I thought I’d bring you some food,” Tommy said, holding up a thermos. “Figured you could be hungry.”

Joel managed a small, grateful smile, though the weight of your conversation still hung heavy in the room. “Thanks,” he murmured, taking the tray from Tommy’s outstretched hand.

Tommy lingered for a moment, his eyes flicking back to you. “If you need anything… anything at all, just let me know, alright?”

You nodded, appreciating the offer but feeling too drained to respond with more than a simple acknowledgment.

Tommy hesitated, as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if it was his place. Finally, he clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take care of her,” he said quietly, the words carrying a deeper meaning than just a simple request.

Joel nodded, his grip tightening on the thermos. “I will,” he promised, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

With one last look at you, Tommy turned and left the room, leaving you and Joel alone once more. The door closed softly behind him, and the silence that followed was almost deafening.

You glanced at Joel, the conflict in your heart still unresolved. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of everything that had happened, of the pain you were still trying to process.

“Thank you” you managed to say, “For looking for me that night.”

Joel's eyes softened at your words, though the tension in his shoulders remained. He nodded, the weight of the moment heavy between you. "I’d do it again," he replied, his voice quiet but firm. "A thousand times over if I had to."

You looked down, your fingers nervously picking at the blanket draped over you. "I know I was angry," you admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "And I still am, but… I also know you saved my life. I don’t want to ignore that."

He stepped closer, hesitating for just a moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You don’t have to thank me," he said gently. "I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t come for you. You mean too much to me."

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity in them, but they also reminded you of the complicated feelings you were still trying to untangle. "I’m just… trying to figure out how to move forward from here," you confessed, meeting his gaze.

Joel reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he finally took it, his grip warm and reassuring. “You know, I spent the last days beside you all the time, hoping to see your eyes opening again, I can wait a little bit more for you.” He said, smiling softly at you.

Joel's words were like a balm to the ache in your heart, the sincerity in his smile melting some of the walls you'd built around yourself. His hand, warm and steady around yours, was a reminder of the care and dedication he had towards you.

A few days later, you were finally released from the infirmary, but Dr. Ramirez had been clear about the need to rest and take things slow. Your body was still recovering, and any strenuous activity could set you back. Joel had been by your side when Dr. Ramirez gave the instructions, and you could feel his protective gaze on you the entire time, as if he was silently vowing to ensure you followed every word.

Back at your house in Jackson, the atmosphere was different. The air felt lighter, more relaxed, but there was also an unspoken tension between you and Joel. The words you had exchanged in the infirmary still lingered, and both of you were treading carefully, not wanting to disrupt the fragile peace that had settled.

As you settled into the couch, Joel was close by, hovering just enough to make sure you were comfortable but giving you space to breathe. His presence was comforting, yet it also reminded you of the complicated feelings you were still working through.

"Do you need anything?" Joel asked, his voice gentle as he watched you with concern.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. "No, I’m okay. Just trying to adjust to being home again."

He nodded, his eyes softening as he took a seat on the chair across from you. "Take your time. You’ve been through a lot."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged with the weight of unspoken thoughts. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, as if he was searching for something, waiting for you to say what was on your mind.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Joel… about what I said before, about trying to figure things out…"

He leaned forward slightly, his attention fully on you. "You don’t have to explain, sunshine. I get it. You’ve got a lot to process."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I do. But I want to ask you to do something.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "What is it?"

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you continued. "I want you to talk to Lori."

The moment her name left your lips, you saw Joel’s expression darken, his posture stiffening. "Talk to Lori? After everything she did to you? Why the hell would I do that?"

You could hear the defensiveness in his voice, the way his jaw clenched as if he was trying to hold back a torrent of emotions.

"Joel, please," you said, your voice calm but firm. "I need you to do this for me. I’m not asking you toy forgive her or make excuses for what she did. It’s about getting closure.”

His eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions swirling behind them. "Closure? How is talking to her going to give you closure? She nearly got you killed. I don’t want her anywhere near you."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I know you’re angry. I am too. But carrying this anger, this bitterness…but before you met me, she was the one you found- “

“It was nothing serious” he interrupted.

“Even if it was just that, Joel. She still deserves an apology from you.”

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, the defensiveness in his posture only growing stronger. "An apology? After what she did to you, you want me to apologize to her?"

You nodded, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. "Yes, Joel. She made a terrible mistake, but that doesn’t change the fact that you hurt her too. She was in your life before I was, and even if it wasn’t serious, it clearly meant something to her. And when things ended between you two, it left her with feelings she didn’t know how to handle."

He looked away, his jaw clenching as he processed your words. "I never meant for any of this to happen," he muttered, the frustration evident in his voice.

"I know that," you replied softly. "But maybe that’s why it’s even more important that you talk to her. She made a mistake, a huge one, but she was reacting out of hurt and anger. And maybe, just maybe, hearing an apology from you could help her start to heal too."

Joel’s shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of him. He looked back at you, his expression conflicted. "I don’t know if I can do that," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "Apologizing… it feels like I’m excusing what she did, and I can’t do that."

Joel took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he nodded. "Alright," he finally said, his voice low. "I’ll talk to her. I’ll apologize. But I’m doing it for you, because I want to make things right with you."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Joel. That’s all I’m asking."

He reached out, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently. "I just hope this helps us find some peace," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of hope. "Because I don’t want to lose you."

Joel wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with Lori, but he knew it was necessary. As he approached her in the stables, where she was tending to the horses, he felt the weight of what you’d asked him to do pressing on his shoulders. The earthy scent of hay and the soft sounds of the horses moving around only added to the heaviness in his chest. He took a deep breath and walked over; his steps heavy with uncertainty.

“Lori,” he called out softly, causing her to look up from grooming a horse. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of emotions flickering across her face as she saw him.

“Joel,” she replied, setting the brush down. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk,” he said, his voice steady but laced with tension. “About everything that happened.”

Lori’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was bracing herself for whatever he was about to say. “Go on, then.”

Joel hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know things between us ended badly, and I never meant for you to get hurt. What happened with her… it’s not all your fault. I had a part in it too.”

Lori’s expression softened, a look of surprise crossing her features. “You’re apologizing?” she asked, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah,” Joel admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I am. I messed up, and I didn’t see how much you were hurting until it was too late. I should have handled things better, and I’m sorry for the pain it caused you.”

Lori looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally, she let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I appreciate that, Joel,” she said quietly. “I’ve been carrying a lot of anger, and maybe… maybe I was looking for someone to blame. But hearing you say this… it helps.”

Joel nodded, relieved that the conversation seemed to be going in a positive direction. “I just want to put all this behind us,” he said. “For everyone’s sake.”

Lori stepped closer, her expression softening further. “I want that too,” she murmured, reaching up to touch his arm. “And… I’m sorry too, for everything.”

Before Joel could react, Lori leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. But the kiss lingered, her lips brushing dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. He stiffened, pulling back slightly, but not before the moment had passed.

“Lori…” he started, his voice filled with warning, but his words were cut off as he saw something behind her.

You stood at the entrance to the stables, your expression one of disappointment and hurt. You hadn’t meant to interrupt, but you’d come looking for Joel, wanting to check in on how the conversation was going. Instead, you found yourself witnessing a moment that twisted the knife in your heart.

Joel immediately took a step back from Lori, his eyes wide with panic as he realized you had seen the kiss. “It’s not what it looks like,” he called out, his voice desperate to reach you.

But you turned on your heel and walked away, the sting of what you’d just seen too much to bear. You didn’t want to hear his explanation; the image of Lori’s lips so close to his was enough to leave you feeling betrayed.

Joel cursed under his breath, quickly following after you, but the damage was done.

Joel raced after you, his heart pounding as he tried to close the distance. “Wait, please!” he called out, his voice echoing through the quiet of the stables and beyond.

You didn’t slow down, your steps quick and determined as you headed for the path leading away from the stables. The pain of what you’d seen burned too fiercely for you to face him right now. The image of Lori’s kiss and the confusion it brought was overwhelming.

Joel caught up to you, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. “Just… just let me explain,” he said, his breath coming in heavy gasps. “I didn’t want her to do that, I swear.”

You pulled your arm away from him, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Joel, I’m tired of the explanations,” you said, your voice shaky. “Every time I try to trust you, something happens that makes me question it all over again. I need time to sort through all this, but I can’t do that if I’m constantly reminded of why I shouldn’t trust you.”

Joel looked at you with desperation and hurt, his eyes pleading. “I know I messed up, but I’m trying here. I really am. I wanted to make things right with Lori as you asked me, so we could move on, but I didn’t expect—”

“Expect what?” you cut him off, tears threatening to spill. “Expect her to still have feelings for you? Or expect that you’d have to be in her presence and make her feel like she has a chance? It’s all too much.”

You paused, your voice breaking as the weight of everything you’d been feeling crashed over you. “That woman is crazy… she tried to kill me and I’m… I’m just so tired of all this, Joel. I can’t… I can’t keep dealing with this.”

The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, streaming down your face as you struggled to catch your breath. The emotional toll of the past few days had left you feeling utterly drained, and the sight of Joel and Lori together had pushed you to the edge.

Joel’s heart ached at the sight of you so distressed. Without a second thought, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that spoke of his own heartache. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“I want her to leave Jackson” you said.

Joel’s grip on you tightened at your words, his mind racing as he processed your request. “You want her to leave Jackson?” he repeated, his voice filled with surprise “I know things between us are… complicated right now, but asking her to leave—”

“It’s not  about me,” you interrupted, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “It’s about feeling safe. I can’t be here, knowing she’s so close. I need to know she’s not a threat anymore to me or anyone else.”

Joel took a deep breath, the weight of your request pressing heavily on him. He understood the need for safety, for closure, but he also knew that asking Lori to leave Jackson would have its own set of consequences.

“I’ll talk to Tommy,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’ll see what can be done. If it’s what you need to feel safe, then I’ll make it happen.”

Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt.

Joel nodded; his expression resolute. “I understand. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re not left with that fear. You deserve peace, and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

The community meeting took place in the main hall, a space that had seen its share of important decisions and discussions over the years. Joel and Tommy, along with other key figures in Jackson, gathered to address the situation with Lori.

The room was filled with a murmur of conversations as people took their seats. The atmosphere was tense, a mix of concern and frustration hanging in the air. Joel stood near the front; his expression serious as he prepared to present the situation.

“Alright, folks,” Tommy began, stepping up to the makeshift podium. “We’re here to discuss the situation with Lori and decide on the next steps. We’ve heard from Joel, and we all know what’s been going on.”

Joel took a deep breath and began speaking. “I know this is a difficult situation. Lori’s actions have put everyone in a tough spot, and I understand that emotions are running high. I’ve spoken with her, and she’s expressed remorse, but the fact remains that her actions have put someone we care about in danger.”

He paused, looking around at the gathered community. “I’m asking for your input on what should be done. I know this isn’t an easy decision, but we need to ensure the safety and well-being of everyone in Jackson.”

The room fell silent as people considered their options. Various community members began to speak up, each sharing their thoughts and concerns. Some were in favor of asking Lori to leave Jackson, citing the need for safety and closure. Others worried about the implications of such a decision, considering her past contributions to the community and the potential impact on morale.

After a series of discussions and arguments, the group came to a consensus. The final vote was cast, and the majority agreed that Lori would need to leave Jackson. This decision was based on the overwhelming need to ensure the safety of the community and to address the trauma caused by her actions.

As the meeting concluded, the decision was communicated to Lori. She was given a set amount of time to pack her belongings and prepare to leave. The community had made its choice, and while it wasn’t easy, it was necessary for the greater good.

Joel and Tommy left the meeting feeling a mix of relief and sadness. They knew it was a difficult decision, but one that had to be made for the sake of the community’s well-being and your peace of mind.

After the meeting, Joel went to find Lori. He found her packing her things in a small room, her movements mechanical as she sorted through her belongings. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of her clothes and a few muffled sobs.

“Lori,” Joel said gently as he approached her.

Lori looked up, her face a mask of resignation and pain. “So, it’s really happening,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m leaving.”

Joel nodded; his expression somber. “Yeah. The community decided it was the best thing to do. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s what needed to happen.”

Lori’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just… I wanted to protect myself, and it spiraled out of control. I’m sorry.”

Joel sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I know you’re sorry. And I understand why you acted the way you did, even if it was wrong. I just hope you can find a way to make things right for yourself.”

Lori gave a small, bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I can. But I guess I’ll have to try.”

Joel glanced around the room, unsure of what more to say. “If you need any help getting ready or finding somewhere to go, let me know. I don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be.”

Lori nodded, wiping her tears away. “Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

With a final look at Lori, Joel turned and walked away, his heart heavy. He found Tommy waiting outside the room, and together they made their way to the main area of Jackson.

As Joel walked through the community, he saw people going about their daily routines, the weight of the decision beginning to settle in. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. The decision to expel Lori had been necessary, but it left a lingering discomfort in the air.

When he finally found you, sitting in a quiet corner of the community center, he approached with a cautious but hopeful expression. “Hey,” he said softly, sitting down beside you. “I wanted to let you know that Lori’s getting ready to leave. It’s happening, just like we talked about.”

You looked at him, the strain of the past few days still evident in your eyes. “Okay,” you said quietly. “I just… I hope she can find peace or whatever she’s looking for.”

Joel reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I hope so too. And I want you to know, no matter what happens, I’m here. We’ll get through this together.”

You stood up abruptly, your hand slipping from Joel’s grasp. “I promised Maria, I’d help her with something,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of determination and avoidance. “I should go now.”

Joel’s gaze followed you, his concern evident. “Wait, hold on. I know you’re trying to distance yourself again,” he said, his voice a mix of frustration and pleading. “We can talk this out. I thought we were making progress.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “I just… I need some space right now. There’s a lot to process, and I don’t want to keep having these conversations when I’m not ready. I’m trying to figure things out, and it’s hard to do that with everything so fresh.”

Joel’s expression softened, a mix of understanding and hurt crossing his face. “I get it. I really do. But shutting me out won’t make things easier. I want to be here for you, to help you through this. Running away from me or pushing me away won’t solve anything.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. “I’m-I’m not running away from you, Joel.”

Joel stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I’m not trying to complicate things. I just want to be part of the solution, not the problem. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. But please, don’t shut me out completely. I care too much to let you go through this alone.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your resolve waver. “I appreciate that, Joel. But I need to go”

Joel’s expression hardened, though his eyes still held a flicker of hurt. “Okay,” he said, his tone sharper than before. “If that’s what you need, I’ll back off.”

You could feel the sting of his words, a mix of anger and resignation in his voice. You nodded, trying to steady yourself. “Thank you for understanding.”

As you turned to leave, Joel’s gaze followed you, a mixture of frustration and sadness etched on his face. The conversation had left both of you in a raw, vulnerable state, and the air between you was heavy with unresolved emotions.

As night settled over Jackson, the streets grew quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. You wandered aimlessly, torn between the invitation from Tommy and Maria and the thought of returning to your own space. The uncertainty of your feelings and the tension with Joel weighed heavily on your mind.

Just as you were about to make a decision, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned to see Joel walking towards you, his expression a mix of determination and concern. The spark of his brown eyes seemed to cast a glow under the lights, and your breath got stuck in your throat.

Just as you were about to make a decision, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned to see Joel walking towards you, his expression a mix of determination and concern. The spark of his brown eyes seemed to cast a glow under the lights, and your breath got stuck in your throat.

“Are you going to Tommy’s?” Joel asked, his voice carrying a hint of bitterness.

You nodded slowly. “I don’t know.”

“Why?” Joel asked, his tone sharp. “Because I’m going?”

His question hung in the air, charged with the tension between you. You could see the frustration and hurt etched on his face, and it made you realize how deeply conflicted he was.

“No,” you said quietly, though the weight of your uncertainty was clear. “I just... I need to figure things out.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his frustration boiling over. “Figure things out? You know, every time I try to make things right, it feels like I’m just making them worse.”

“It’s not just about you,” you said, trying to hold back the tears. “It’s about me, too. I need to figure out what I want.”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, his gaze shifting away for a moment. “I get that you need space, but it feels like you’re avoiding me, avoiding what’s between us.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you replied, your voice cracking.

Joel’s eyes softened slightly, though the hurt was still evident. “Look, if you want to go to Tommy’s, then go. But don’t use it as an excuse to push me away. I’m here, and I’m trying to be part of this, part of us.”

Joel’s frustration reached a boiling point as he shouted, “Every time we made progress, you just pushed it all away because you’re afraid! You’re acting like a coward!”

You flinched at his raised voice, your own emotions bubbling to the surface. “Why? For protecting myself from you?” you snapped back, feeling the sting of his words.

Joel’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desperation. “Oh my god! What do you want me to do? You almost died, I could die, and you’re putting all of this on hold because you’re scared instead?” His voice was strained, almost out of breath.

You felt a sharp pang of hurt at his accusation. “Well, that’s one person less to cry over for you,” you shot back, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into your tone.

Joel’s face darkened with anger and frustration. “You’re a fucking— I’m done.” His words were cut short as he struggled to control his emotions.

The anger in Joel’s voice only made you cry harder, the tears flowing freely now. “You don’t understand,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “I love you, Joel. I really do, so much. But everything always ends with me in the dark, sobbing all alone because people I love leave or die and I don’t want you to die.”

Joel’s face softened at your tears, his anger melting away into a pained expression. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he wiped away a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry, sunshine,” he said, his voice breaking.

"I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you, and I won't die for you. I'll live for you, I'll carry all for you," he said, his voice full of raw emotion.

"Joel..." you started, but your words faltered, lost in the storm of feelings between you.

"Listen to me, you will never be alone again," he reassured, his voice filled with a desperate promise.

You didn't answer, just looking down at your boots, feeling Joel’s gaze burning with sadness and fury, a mix of emotions that felt like daggers dressed in words.

Joel sighed, hopelessness dripping from his voice. "Okay." He said, giving up on you.

"I fell in love with Joel who was charismatic and kind, the one I know you're capable of being but hide because you’re afraid of seeing those colors in yourself again," you said softly. "And I even love the grumpy one a bit, but—"

"But?" Joel prompted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Please don’t—"

"I love you so much, and I want to say sorry for not realizing before," he said, the confession slipping out as you looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. “I love you” he repeated, “and I want to be the man you fell in love with. I want to be the one who can stand beside you, not just in the good times, but in the hard ones too.”

You looked everywhere but him, not uttering a word. Joel’s expression shifted from frustration to resignation as he began to turn away, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Just as he was about to step back, feeling the cold sting of the night air, you made a sudden, impulsive move. Without thinking, you reached out and closed the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a fierce, desperate kiss.

The shock of the kiss jolted Joel into stillness. For a moment, he stood there, frozen, as if trying to process what was happening. But then, the tension in his body melted away, and he responded with equal fervor, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The kiss was a blend of longing, frustration, and the deep love that had been building between you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, the raw intensity of the moment lingering in the air. Joel’s eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of surprise and hope.

"I promise I won't forget this kiss," you said softly, recalling the meaning behind that statement

Joel’s eyes softened as he gazed at you with intensity and desire. “You’re coming home with me,” he said firmly, leaning in and kissing you again.

Once he finally managed to unlock the door of his house, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the warmth and familiarity of his home wrapping around you.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Joel turned to face you, his expression soft and filled with a deep, lingering emotion. Without a word, he took your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the last of your tears. Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours once more, this kiss tender and filled with all the words he couldn’t quite say.

You responded, your arms winding around his neck as you melted into the kiss. It was a kiss of promises and newfound hope, a kiss that spoke of the love you shared and the future you were ready to face together. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a contented smile on Joel’s lips.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You smiled; your heart full. “I’ve missed you too, Joel. More than you know.”

Joel's smile lingered for just a moment before he leaned in once more, capturing your lips with his. You responded eagerly, your arms tightening around his neck as you lost yourself in the moment.

Soon the both of you were inside Joel’s bedroom, you laying on your back with him on top. Your shirt was on the floor, along with his shirt and jeans. You felt a sudden warmth spreading up on your cheeks at the thought of your fresh scar resting on your abdomen.

Joel looked at you with concern as he followed your gaze. His eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the scar as if to trace the memories you had built.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice filled with warmth, “this scar doesn’t change a thing about how I see you. You’re absolutely perfect to me, just the way you are.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling at his words. Despite the physical reminder of what you’d been through, his reassurance made you feel cherished and beautiful. His gaze was unwavering, filled with a deep, genuine affection that made the pain of the past seem a little less sharp.

Joel's eyes met yours again, full of tenderness. “You’ve been through so much, but you’re still here, stronger than ever.”

You smiled softly, touched by his words. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, placing kisses on your cheeks, slowly moving down your neck, your chest, finally reaching the scar, planting a kiss over it.

You felt treasured. Your nipples were hard and begging to be brushed, something Joel was aware of since he needed you all over again. He shortly sucked on a nipple, arching your back and grasping your tights with his own. The lust had completely taken control of you, and now every part of you yearned his touch.

Joel pulled his mouth away to look at you, raising his palm to trace your face with his thumb.  "I love you," he kissed your forehead then your cheek. "I love you," he whispered, kissing both your lips and neck.

"And I love you too." You whispered, and a smile spread across your face as you took a look of him. “Now can you please finish what you started or I swear- “

Your words were cut by Joel taking your lips on his mouth again, muttering “I love you” again, before pulling your jeans down as you did the same with his.

He pushed your thighs apart and stepped between them while slowly guiding himself inside you. The feeling of fullness and stretch were both familiar and foreign. You hadn’t had him in weeks that turned into months, and now he felt massive. When he was all the way inside, a heavy groan got stuck in his throat as he pressed his forehead against yours, his mouth hung open and his face twisted.

"God, you feel so good," he gasped. "I could just come right now."

Your laughter rang through your chest as he moved. The consuming pleasure made you both tremble. Then he increased up the pace and rammed quicker. He was thrilled, and he could feel himself becoming thicker and fuller inside you. You were struggling to breathe, but your hips were bucking to encourage him to move quicker. And so, he did, providing you precisely what you asked for.

He moved one hand down to your hip, his head leaning forward to grasp your lips in a passionate kiss as he pounded harder toward the orgasm. You could feel the heat spread throughout your body like a blaze, and his finger toyed with your clit, heightening the pleasure on your body. Your eyes began to flutter, and your nails scratched down his back. Joel bit your neck, hearing filthy moans escaping your lips as he felt himself reaching the edge. Soon, your head felt back, and a loud groan erupted from your mouth as the two of you reached your release.

Your entire body went numb as Joel lay down next to you.

“I don’t want to move.” You spoke, unable to move. 

his warmth radiating through the space between you. As you lay there, unable to move, he settled down next to you with a relaxed, contented smile.

“Don’t worry about moving,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “We can just stay here, right where we are. No need to rush or do anything.”

His hand found yours, fingers lacing with yours in a gentle, reassuring grip. He adjusted his position so he was facing you, his smile never fading.

You glanced at him, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. He leaned down to kiss you. Joel’s lips brushed against yours with a tender, lingering kiss, conveying all the love and reassurance he felt for you.

Joel’s lips lingered on yours for a moment longer before he pulled back, his gaze soft and caring. “Do you want to get some sleep?” he asked gently, his voice filled with concern and tenderness.

You nodded, the aftermath exhaustion finally catching up with you. Joel’s smile grew as he gently kissed your forehead. “Alright, let’s get you comfortable.”

He carefully slipped out of bed and retrieved a soft t-shirt from his drawer. He helped you change into it, his touch tender and careful. Once you were settled, he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as he carried you to the bed.

With a practiced ease, Joel placed you gently under the covers, ensuring you were tucked in warmly. He then slid in beside you, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

He looked at you with a mix of love and concern. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

You snuggled into the warmth and comfort of the bed, feeling secure with Joel beside you.

The morning light crept softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke before Joel, the stillness of the room only adding to the quiet tension you felt. As you lay there, you couldn’t shake the lingering fear from the last time you had been so close to him. The thought that he might wake up and not remember you again, or that things might somehow go back to the way they were, gnawed at you.

You turned your head to watch Joel sleep, his features relaxed and peaceful. His breathing was steady, and the sight of him lying there, so calm and content, was both comforting and nerve-wracking. The fear of losing this moment, of it slipping away like before, was overwhelming.

Joel stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips as he slowly began to wake. His eyes fluttered open, and for a few seconds, he looked at you with a mixture of confusion and grogginess. Your heart raced, the fear of seeing him slip back into a disconnected state making your breath catch in your throat.

But then, as his eyes fully opened and he focused on you, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I tagged everyone interested in more parts or or the ones who commented, but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed (again) if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me. I tried to add everyone but I don't know If I did.

💌 tags: @dreamtofus @paperstarzzz @chewie-bars @hotleaf-juice

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon

@18dmlk @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @frogjumps-world @camy-nyancat @sarahhxx03 @jasminedragoon @cuteanimalmama @eleganthottubfun @skysmiller @nana90azevedo @astralqueenoc

@missladym1981 @persephone-girl @darka-moon @beltzboys2015-blog @sptbear @joelsteinfeld @astralqueenoc @bishtrouille

@locaparapedrito @wolfbook87 @picketniffler @axelspin @pedrotease @riedswifts @mclibs23 @feliciab1990 @swornkisses @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kirsteng42 @lostfleurs @guelyury @devonispunk @harriedandharassed @wolfbook87 @niffala @animechik555 @gypsystarchaser42 @geralallfandoms @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @goodvibesonly421 @negansbestie @bambisweethearts @jessthebaker @tuquoquebrute

[xan-izme]

Crybaby (Sully fam X daughter!reader)

Summary: Reader has always been a crybaby. Sensitive and had a soft spot for all living life. Jake disliked how sensitive you always were, he sent you out on your own for a month and came back a cold-blooded killer.

Warnings: Death, gore, mentions of death, mentally unstable reader, violence, Trauma

You were kind, sweet. Always looked on the bright side, you were on the same path as Kiri, training to become Tsahik. But it was clear you weren't as good as Kiri, which you were quick to admit.

That lead to Jake placing you with your brothers, training to become warriors. He wanted to tough you up, Jake loves how much you cherished love, he loved seeing the world through your optimistic eyes.

But ever since the sky people came back, he just needed his eldest daughter to be strong. Be there just in case he would leave this world a little too early.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Y/n, I need you to keep your balance! keep tripping like that you'll get killed." Jake's words hurt you, but you remember how upset he was the last time you nearly cried.

You inhaled sharply "Yes father." You stood up from the ground and faced your twin, Neteyam. He gave you a knowing look that wanted to know if they should stop, you shook your head lightly, not wanting to seem more of a wimp to your father then you already are.

You were an average hunter, your skills in fighting weren't that bad either.

But that wasn't enough for Jake. He needed to know that you were as skilled as Neteyam, as skilled as your mother was. So, it was always.

"Be faster"

"Hit stronger"

"Not good enough, try again!"

You would push your limit. Till you couldn't keep your eyes open. Your father would say words of gratitude here and there. Like small nods and a "Good work"

Your brothers sometimes feel like that's not enough for how much he makes you do. But just the smallest amount of approval from Jake made you feel like you were on cloud nine, causing you to do more, work harder.

Then one day, you were having a hard week, you were getting frustrated at the simplest things. Even your fathers nagging was annoying you.

When it came to training, you slipped up and made multiple mistakes that Jake just could not take it.

"Y/n, come now." Jake spoke calmly. You and your twin glanced at each other. You stood up with the help of Neteyam and followed your father.

The two of you walked through the woods.

"Baby, you know why I push you and your siblings so much, right?"

You nod your head, feeling a little nervous even if Jake was using his usual soft tone. "Then you understand--" Jake held you by your shoulders "--That this family, this clan is our fortress. And protecting this family is everything"

His words were deep to you, it was clear this was important to him. "And I need you to be strong. And training here hasn't been helping. So, Im sending you off. Away from here, so you can improve more on your own" Jake saw how your expression dropped "don't worry! It'll only be for a month. Ill check in every few weeks." He tried to reassure you. It didn't really calm your nerves down, but seeing how desperate he was to make sure you and the family was safe?

there was no way you could say no.

So, you left, you were on your own. The first few days were hard. And there were multiple times when you got seriously hurt and cried. God, you cried so much. All that crying made you hate yourself.

Hate every flaw you had. You even hated the soft part of you. Scolding yourself, knowing that kindness and your crying will not protect the clan, your family.

Jake did try to visit you. But you never stayed in one place. The two of you talked a little over the inner coms when you two would be miles apart. But those convocations didn't last.

You were training harder than ever. Perfecting every little thing down to the bone. In all honesty, you did go a little off from the safe zone, where you ran into a few sky people. You made it our alive, as for those sky people?

Well, you only let one live, still having that small kindness and mercy in you. Which was a big mistake.

You received a message from Norm and Max when they wanted to check on you, that a sky person bombed up a small part of the safe zone close to the high camp. No one was killed, but a lot were majorly injured.

Gaining all the details of the incident, you realize that it was the sky person you let live.

Cursing yourself and beating yourself for being so foolish, so naive for thinking nothing of what that sky demon after setting it free. So, you vowed to not give your enemy's any type of mercy, to kill all those evil demons, to protect you clan, your family.

Because this family was your fortress. And you were determined to be theirs.

Your month was over, and you were just so excited to go home. To hug and smother your siblings with kisses. To show your dear parents how strong and skilled you've become. To make your father proud of you. To officially be seen as enough to help protect everyone.

Norm gave you an inner com that was connected to your family, being told that your parents and dear twin brother were on patrol at the moment.

You decided to fly your Ikran to where you were told you parents and twin would be at. But when you were a few clicks away from them, you heard Lo'ak's voice. Saying he has gained sight of intruders. Ones who were carrying guns.

Dreamwalkers

You spoke into your inner coms.

"I'm closest to their location. I'll engage."

"Y/n-- wait, no! Y/n you better not!" Jake shouted.

"Y/n te i'tri Mo'ata Sully. Stay down! that's an--"

You turned your intercoms off. The safety of your baby siblings was the only thing you had in mind. It was almost eclipse, and telling by how the winds picks up and the clouds, it was to rain soon.

Your Ikran felt the panic and determination you were feeling and speed up to get to the location faster.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You made it before your parents and twin could. You killed off every single dreamwalker. And that demon who took your mother's home away, who took Kiri's mother away.

The demon who caused so much harm to your clan.

"Any last words Demon?" you say, tilting your head as you held the sharp dagger to Quritche's throat. The Demon growled and spat in your face.

You weren't very pleased with that; you turned your head towards your siblings who were huddled against a tree.

"Spider"

The small human boy flinched by the way your voice sounded.

"Close your eyes." You said with a small fond smile. But it felt nothing like that. Kiri quickly brought Spider close to her and covered his eyes.

You looked back at Quaritche. The moment you slit his throat and began to detach his head from his body, was the moment Jake and Neytiri entered the scene.

Neytiri was quick to go by her younger children's side. Your ears perk and notice Jake. Once you laid eyes on him. Your face lit up.

"Father!" Youran to him and hugged him. Jake was in utter shock at the scene in front of him. He slowly hugged you tight. You pulled away, smiling, unphased by the amount of blood that was on you.

"I did it. I saved them. Look!" you pulled Jake to where Quaritche's dead body was and grabbed the head of the demon.

"I have killed him. I did it!"

Neteyam slowly entered and looked over what you had done.

"Mommy!" Tuk whined and was quickly embraced by Neytiri.

You were smiling, happy that you've finally rid your father of the nightmare that had burdened your family.

But when you began to see the look Jake had. You started to notice that was not the look of approval you hoped for.

"Y/n . . .What have you done?"

Your smile dropped, being replaced with confution

"Wha-. . .what? what's wrong? what did I do wrong!?" You didn't understand. Did you not put them down fast enough? Should you have taken out the leader before the others? What was it that was wrong??

"Y/n, baby. This--" He was pointing out to the bloody battle around them "--Is wrong. You tampered with their body's. Some of them are still bleeding out!"

"N-no! it's okay you see! I made it for them to not move at all and suffer their punishment." You tried to defend yourself. Tried to make your dear father know that it was okay. And that you did a good job.

Neytiri hurried the children to exit this part of the forest fast, including Spider. Neytiri didn't like Spider, but the boy didn't deserve to see all of this. None of her children did.

"That is not our way!" Jake yelled. Frustrated, worried and scared for his daughter in front of them.

Your ears pinned back. Feelings of sadness, betrayal and anger infecting your heart.

"Well, your way didn't work for me. You said so yourself! Why can't you just be happy!?" Your nose scrunched up in anger.

"I did this for the clan, for our family-- For you!" You were getting upset. All you wanted was the feeling of being called a Sully, worthy of the tittle as Toruk Makto's daughter.

"You can't do this. Your way will bring unbalance to the clan. And if you can't do that. . . then I'll have to strip your tittle as a warrior of this clan." Jake's words caused everyone to stop.

"Ma jake." Neytiri spoke, her eyes glancing between her mate and child.

You felt your bottom lip quivering. But your eyes refused to release the tears. You slowly backed away from Jake, nodding your head a little. Your eyes found its way to Spider who kept tripping, his legs still shaking from what he witnessed.

"Spider." You spoke up. The boy forced himself to look at you.

"Keep tripping like that. . . . . and you'll get killed."

[cherryredstars]

hi cherry!! i love ur fanfics so much (fr they're soo good). i was wondering if you did a knight (or bodyguard) miguel x princess reader. it's my fav romantic trope <33 thank you for reading!

Pairing: Miguele O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: None, Fluff

A/N: Had two similar requests so I combined them!!

Unedited

The other half of the bed is cold.

It usually always is, but it still causes a sleepy frown to pull at the edges of your lips. The covers, thick and warm, slide down your shoulders as you sit up in bed. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, the cold penetrating through the thin material of your night gown. The room is dark, the only light being a sliver of silvery moon through a crack in the heavy drapes.

You turn to your night stand, blinding searching the surface until your fingers brush against a box of matches. The sound of matches shifting fill the quiet room as you open the box, pulling a single match and striking it. The yellow light flickers, creating a small glow. You use it to find the candle lantern on the bedside, opening the small window before lighting the wick. You wave your hand to extinguish the flame, discarding the burned match into a dusty ash tray.

You shiver when your bare feet hit the cold floor, your hand grabbing at the handle of the lantern. You use the dull light to guide you, walking to the wooden door of your chambers. You hesitate before opening it, the wood protesting with a groan. When you peak your head out, you're met with nothing. The vast hall is brighter than your sleeping chambers, the curtains drawn back to let the moonlight in. You step out quietly, keeping a steady hand on the door to prevent it from slamming shut.

The stone floor is lined with a long carpet, muffling your steps. The material is slightly scratchy, and you get distracted from the feel whenever you hear a strange noise. You stop before hesitantly continuing again, trying to will away the paranoia clawing at your nerves. The castle's halls are eerie at night, making you uneasy. You try to rationalize your fears away, pushing ahead.

As if to justify your paranoia, a large arm suddenly tugs at your waist. Your gasp is muffled by a gloved hand placed over your mouth, the strong body pulling you into a dark corridor. Your wide eyes are forced to look straight ahead, body stiffening against the metal pushing against your back. You can hear the plates of armor shifting as the body leans forward, warm breath hitting your neck.

"You should be in bed, princesa."

Your body instantly slackens, the arms around you loosening. You lift the lantern higher up as you turn. You glare at the shadowed features of your husband.

"And you should be in our bed."

Miguel's in his knight's armor, sword sheathed at his hip. The clunky metal adds to the largeness he already possesses, making him frightening to everyone but you. You don't remember a time you haven't seen him in his armor, a saddening thought for a wife yearning for closeness. This man is your husband, yet you don't even know what he looks like dawning anything but metal and chain mail.

"You shouldn't walk around at night unattended." Miguel's eyes are focused on your face, but they shift downwards. "Especially not in your current attire."

Your eyes follow his gaze, looking down at your chest. You let out a scandalized gasp as you see your hardened nipples- sensitive to the cold- poking through your thin gown. You quickly throw an arm over your chest, cheeks flaring. You turn your back to Miguel, clearing your throat.

"Well," you squeak as you turn your head to look back at him, "good thing my husband is here to escort me back to our room."

Miguel makes a gruff noise at the back of his throat, but he doesn't protest as he gently takes the lamp from your grasp. He lifts the lantern high enough to illuminate your path, but he still places his hand against the small of your back to guide you. You shiver at the warmth radiating from his palm, unused to his touch. His hand applies slight pressure to encourage you to walk forward, and you stumble on your first step before composing yourself.

The walk is silent, only your dull steps filling the space. Your eyes stray to Miguel as you walk, taking him in. The lantern casts harsh shadows against his face, and his own attentive eyes focus straight ahead. They dart from side to side, accessing the space for any threats. He looks stunning, a gorgeous knight.

Miguel's eyes shift down to you, eyes squinting in question as he catches you staring. You turn your head sharply, thanking the darkness for blanketing your blush. You're lucky to stop in front of the chamber doors, watching as Miguel pushes the door open with a hand to let you enter. You mumble your thanks as you pass, heading towards your bed.

Miguel sets the lamp on your nightstand as you sit on the edge of your bed, silently watching him. Miguel turns to look at you, sighing before he walks over. He towers over you, pulling the covers back to reveal a space for you to lay in. You sink into the empty spot, eyes trained on Miguel's face as he fixes the covers over your body. You sigh softly as the furs instantly give you warmth, snuggling into the bed. Miguel lingers for a moment before he moves to turn.

Your hand shoots out quickly, wrapping around his wrist. He stops, his eyes dropping to your small hand before turning his head to you. You gulp nervously, opening your mouth and then closing it. Your eyes divert to the still-lit candle before meeting his eyes again.

"Stay? Please?"

Miguel's lips thin, looking down at you. A heavy pang of disappointment slams into our chest as he shakes off your hold, turning his back to you. You watch as he walks towards the door, only for him to stop. He turns to his side slightly, heavy hand reaching out until it grabs at the wooden chair that rests beside your vanity. He lifts it effortlessly with a single hand as he turns back towards you, setting it down near your side of the bed. Your heart skips a beat as his heavy body causes the wood to creak, shifting in the chair. His legs are spread, arms crossed as his eyes fall to your astonished face.

"Only until you fall asleep. I have duties to attend to."

A protest scratches at your chest, but you hold it back. This is already much for him, something he was never done before. You are willing to settle for this small peace. You nod, mumbling your agreement before you sink back into the bed. Miguel's hand comes up to fix the covers again, making sure they are snug against your shoulders. His hand comes to trace the shape of your jaw, caressing the soft skin before pulling away. Your eyes close at the affectionate gesture, blinking slowly open.

You can feel sleep tugging at your eyes, but you fight against it as you stare at him. You don't want to sleep through this moment. You want him to stay as long as possible. You want this to last.

Some emotion flashes across Miguel's face as he pulls his hand away, something you can't decipher. Your brows furrow as you try to figure it out and simultaneously fight away sleep. Your tiredness must be obvious as Miguel's eyes soften. He hesitates for a second before his thumb reaches up to smooth over the skin between your eyes. His fingers move higher up, pushing hair away from your forehead. He pauses before he leans down, placing a tentative kiss to your skin.

"Sleep. I will be here when you wake up."

He whispers it so quietly that it almost gets swallowed by the silence. But, it's enough to sooth any anxiety in your body. You don't try as hard to fight the tiredness, letting your eyes flutter one final time.

__________________________________________

When you wake, the first thing you see is the empty chair.

Something ugly pokes at your chest as you remember his words. A promise unkept. Your room is still dim from the drawn curtains, the maids not yet arrived to wake you. Your eyes shift up to the candle, the wax melted down to the wick. It must have burned throughout the night. You sigh heavily as you go to push yourself up and out of this disappointment.

You are met with resistance, an arm once again wrapping around your waist.

You turn your head quickly, looking down at the sleepy eyes of Miguel. He's in a light linen shirt, the sight causing you to blush ferociously. He hums in his sleep, arm tightening to coax you back into bed. You slowly settle back down, turning your body to face his chest. He sighs, something relaxed and content, as he pulls you closer to his chest. You're hit with his scent, something that makes your heart race.

His grip on your waist lightens, his other hand sliding between your neck and pillow to play with your hair. You hide your face in his chest, not wanting him to see how the sleepy gestures affect you.

"Stay." Miguel mumbles into your hair, lips brushing against your scalp. "It's still early."

You don't respond, only snuggle closer.

"You kept your word," You can't help but mumble, a wondrous undertone to your words.

Miguel stiffens a bit, before letting out a dismissive hum and relaxing.

Always, he thinks in his head, I'll always keep my word to you.

[vigilante-3073]

Tree-hugger

Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

PART 1

Summary: Daryl meets his match when traveling through the woods with Beth.

TW: Flirting, guns, fluff.

Daryl and Beth made their way through the woods in the direction of a small town. The group had been running low on supplies and sent Daryl up the road to see what he could find. Daryl was sure that it would be a waste of a few hours, the shops had likely been cleared out a long time ago. The only thing that kept him moving was the possibility of an auto shop.

His bike was getting old and would likely need replacement parts sooner rather than later.

"Daryl, look," Beth chirped suddenly.

Daryl looked up from the uneven terrain, following her gaze to a motorcycle parked at the base of a tree.

Maybe it was his lucky day after all.

"Looks like it still runs. You could probably get some good parts," Beth said.

Daryl nodded with a grunt, his eyes scanning the area warily as he made his way over.

Daryl reached out towards the bike, freezing in place when he heard a gun cock.

"Hands off the bike, sugar," Someone said.

Daryl stepped back and looked around, crossbow aimed at the trees around them. Beth pulled out her gun, staying close to Daryl's side.

"Up here, big guy," The voice called again.

Daryl and Beth looked up, squinting in the bright afternoon sunlight.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered when he spotted her.

The woman was up in a tree with a rifle pointed down at them.

"Sorry, thought it was up for grabs," Daryl said, eyes dropping to the bike before returning to the person in the tree.

"Well, it's not," She stated.

"It's a nice bike," Daryl said.

"I take good care of my things," She replied.

Daryl nodded, "Let's get out of here," He muttered before taking a step away from the motorcycle.

"We were just wonderin' if-" "Don't," Daryl said sternly.

"If she wanted to kill us we'd be dead already," Beth pointed out, tucking her gun away.

"She's right," The woman stated.

"Do you know if there's anywhere closeby where we can find parts for a bike like that?" Beth questioned, tilting her head towards the bike.

The woman lowered her gun, "There's an auto parts store about three miles East of here. Found it when I blew one of my shocks a while back," She said.

"Thanks," Beth smiled before lookig over at Daryl, "Now we can go," She said.

"Be careful, there was a herd of almost forty dead headed that way a few days ago. It would be a damn shame to see something happen to a handsome man like you over something as trivial as a bike part," The woman said, eyes running over him appreciatively.

"No way," Beth grinned.

"Shut up," Daryl muttered, his cheeks flushing at the compliment.

"I'm Beth and he's Daryl," Beth said.

"Let's go. Now," Daryl grumbled, walking in the direction of the town.

"I'm Y/N. It was nice meeting you, Daryl," Y/N called.

"It was nice meetin' you too, Y/N," Beth said, turning around and running after Daryl.

...

Daryl managed to cross paths with Y/N a few more times over the next few weeks. She moved around the area frequently and spent an alarming amount of time up in the trees. Y/N told him that it was safer than being on the ground and he was inclined to agree with her.

Rick and Daryl had decided to go out on a run to the nearest town in one of the cars. They were looking to stock up on cans and non-perishables for the upcoming months.

Rick parked in front of the shop before the pair slowly made their way up to the door. The small bell above the door jingled as they pushed it open. The men hesitated for a second, silently listening for movement before stepping into the store.

They moved across the room, scanning the area with weapons. Rick and Daryl shared a look before silently parting ways and searching the rest of the store.

Rick caught Daryl's gaze over the shelves before tilting his head towards the back room. Daryl nodded, continuing his search of the aisles.

Daryl froze when he heard a noise, a soft rustling sound from down one of the aisles. He stepped around the corner quickly, crossbow raised and ready to shoot.

"Long time no see, stranger," Y/N stated casually, staring down at the dented can in her hand.

"Jesus, Y/N. I coulda killed your ass," Daryl huffed, lowering his crossbow as he made his way over to her.

"Cute and funny," She mused with a smile. Y/N grabbed two more cans from the metal shelf and tucked them into her backpack.

"You can call your friend back in here, honey. I already swept the place," Y/N stated, zipping up her backpack.

She lifted the backpack strap up onto her shoulder before grabbing her gun from the floor beside her.

Y/N stood up, slipping her arm into the other strap of her bag.

"You leavin'?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, but I left plenty of supplies for you," Y/N assured, Daryl nodded.

"See you around, Daryl," Y/N said, making her way over to the door.

"You know, it's startin' to get colder out," Daryl called after her.

"That tends to happen in the winter," She stated, pushing open the door.

"You should come back with us... There's food, warm water and some actual beds if you're lookin' for somethin' more comfortable than a tree branch," Daryl said.

He wasn't quite sure why he found himself pushing for her to come to the prison with them. Daryl barely knew the woman, but he did worry about how she would survive out in the woods during the winter.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't do groups," Y/N stated.

"You could set up camp in the area then... Good huntin' and we have supplies if you run out," Daryl suggested, fidgeting with his crossbow nervously.

"I just might take you up on that... As long as you come visit me," Y/N said, hand slipping from the door handle as she made her way back over to him.

"I can do that," Daryl nodded.

"Good... Because I'm starting to like you, Daryl," Y/N smiled.

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Cregan Stark x Reader

The storm and the road block made it seem like it was the worst day in your life, but maybe it was all part of fate's plan that led you to meet Cregan Stark, the kind and caring owner of the inn/pub

Modern AU

The rain pours down in sheets, so heavy it feels like the world outside your windshield has vanished into a blur of water and darkness. Your headlights barely cut through the downpour, and every few seconds, you tighten your grip on the wheel as your tires skim over puddles that splash up against the sides of the car. You glance down at your GPS, trying to get your bearings, but it’s hopeless—everything around you is just an endless stretch of rain-soaked trees and winding roads.

Just when you think you might be lost, you catch sight of the warm glow of lights coming from a building up ahead. It's an inn, a cozy-looking place with soft amber light spilling out from the windows and a sign creaking in the wind. You hesitate for a moment, considering stopping, but you’re so close to your destination—or so you think. With a sigh, you press on.

It isn’t long before you regret that decision. Barely a mile down the road, your path is completely blocked by a massive fallen tree. There’s no way to go around it, and there’s definitely no way you’re moving that thing by yourself. With a sigh of frustration, you check your phone for any signal. Of course, there’s nothing. The storm has cut you off completely.

With little choice, you turn your car around and head back toward the inn. When you finally pull into the gravel lot, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the mad dash to the entrance. You grab the small overnight bag from the passenger seat and step out into the storm.

The moment you’re outside, the rain hits you hard, soaking through your clothes in seconds. By the time you make it to the door, you’re drenched from head to toe. Water drips from your hair, your coat sticks uncomfortably to your skin, and your boots squish with every step as you push open the door and slip inside the inn.

The inside of the pub is warm, filled with the hum of conversation and the rich scent of beer, stew, and wood smoke. The wooden beams overhead, worn from years of weather and patrons, give the place a rustic, inviting charm. You glance around, trying not to look too out of place despite the fact that you’re dripping onto the floor.

The pub is semi-packed with people, a mix of locals and a few travelers like yourself, all gathered around tables and the bar. You scan the room, looking for someone who might be in charge, when your eyes land on him.

Cregan Stark.

He’s standing behind the bar, a tall, broad figure in a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There’s a towel draped casually over his shoulder, and he’s in the middle of handing a pint of beer to someone when he glances up and sees you. His eyes—a stormy grey, like the skies outside—lock onto yours for a moment, and you feel a jolt of awareness pass between you. When he notices you, his dark eyes linger for a second longer than expected, and his brows lift in mild surprise.

Self-conscious, you brush a damp strand of hair out of your face and look around awkwardly, noticing that you're the only one who’s soaking wet. You approach a man nearby, your voice polite but a bit flustered as you ask where you can find the owner or the person in charge. They point toward Cregan.

You look over again, and this time, he’s watching you more intently. You muster a smile—one that feels almost apologetic for your bedraggled state—and he smiles back, something subtle but warm. You cross the room toward him.

“Hi,” you start, your voice a little breathless from the cold and the nerves. “I was hoping you might have a room available? The storm’s getting worse, and a tree fell down across the road… I’ve been driving all day, and I just really need a place to stay.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes softening as he takes in your drenched form and the clear exhaustion on your face. Then, he nods with a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve got a room for you,” he says, his voice a deep rumble. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

You follow him up a set of creaky wooden stairs, the smell of old wood and burning logs filling the air. He leads you to a small, cozy room tucked away at the end of the hall. When he opens the door, you immediately notice how homey it feels. There’s a small fireplace in the corner, a tidy bed with a thick quilt, and the soft light of a lantern casting a warm glow. You notice a few personal touches—an old jacket hanging on the back of the door, and a book left on the nightstand. It feels lived-in, like someone’s been staying here, but you don’t question it. It’s perfect.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Cregan says as he steps inside, lighting the fire for you. “It’s the only room we have left, but it should be warm enough once this gets going.”

You watch as he tends to the fire, the flicker of flames catching the rough edges of his features. There’s something almost comforting in the way he moves, steady and confident, like he’s used to taking care of things, taking care of people.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I really appreciate this. I’m—oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Y/N,” You give your name with an embarrassed smile.

“Cregan,” he replies with a nod. “Nice to meet you.”

The fire crackles to life, filling the room with warmth. Cregan straightens up, dusting his hands off before turning to face you again. “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. Just come find me,” he says, his voice still low and calm. “Get some rest. You look like you’ve had a long day.”

You offer him a tired but grateful smile. “I have. Thank you, again.”

Cregan nods once more before leaving you to the warmth of the room. As the door clicks shut behind him, you quickly change out of your wet clothes and sink into the bed, feeling the comfort of the quilt wrapping around you. The storm outside grows fiercer, the sound of rain and wind battering against the window, but inside, by the fire, you’re safe and warm.

The night passes peacefully for the most part, but the occasional crack of thunder jolts you awake, leaving you staring at the shadows on the ceiling. It’s unnerving, this wild weather, so different from what you’re used to in the city. But eventually, exhaustion pulls you back under, and you sleep soundly until morning.

When you wake, the fire has burned down to embers, and while the rain continues to fall in a steady drizzle, the storm has passed. You get dressed in something warm and make your way downstairs, hoping to find some breakfast.

You pause on the last step when you spot Cregan, fast asleep in a small nook by the window. His head rests against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, and there’s a certain peace in the way he sleeps, like he’s used to this, too—staying up late, keeping an eye on things. It’s only when your footsteps creak on the wooden floor that his eyes flicker open.

“Morning,” he says, his voice thick with sleep but still holding that same calm. He stretches slightly as he sits up, and you can’t help but notice how the soft morning light catches in his dark hair, casting him in a gentle glow.

“Good morning,” you reply, your tone warm and polite. You glance toward the nook, feeling a sudden wave of guilt. “Why were you sleeping down here?”

Cregan shrugs, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I gave you my room. Didn’t want you stuck in the storm all night.”

Your heart skips a beat, both at the gesture and the way he says it so casually, as though it were no big deal. “I’m so sorry,” you say quickly, apologizing. “I didn’t realize—”

He holds up a hand to stop you, his smile deepening just a little. “No need to apologize. It was the only room left, and you needed it more than I did.”

You bite your lip, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thank you, Cregan. Really," you smile anyway. "I should probably get going soon, but—”

Cregan shakes his head. “Road’s still blocked. It’ll take some time before it’s cleared. You’re stuck here for a bit.”

The thought of staying doesn’t seem so bad, not with the cozy warmth of the inn and Cregan’s quiet, reassuring presence. “I guess I’m not going anywhere then,” you say with a small laugh.

Cregan pushes himself up from the nook, rubbing the back of his neck as he moves toward the kitchen. “How about some breakfast? I’ll get something going.”

You follow him into the kitchen, where the space is just as rustic and charming as the rest of the inn. As Cregan begins to pull ingredients from the shelves, you offer to help.

“At least let me do something,” you insist with a smile. “It’s the least I can do after taking up your room.”

Cregan glances at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Alright,” he concedes. “If you insist.."

Before you know it, you’ve taken over most of the cooking, quickly falling into a rhythm, chopping vegetables and preparing food with a practiced ease. Cregan watches you with quiet amusement as you take over the stove, his eyes lingering on your movements.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he comments, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed.

You glance up at him, your cheeks flushing slightly at the compliment. “I’ve always loved cooking,” you admit, focusing on the pan in front of you. “It’s just… relaxing.”

Cregan nods, watching as you move with precision and skill. He doesn’t say much, but there’s a quiet appreciation in his eyes as he steps aside, letting you take control of the kitchen.

It isn’t until you hand him a plate of food that you realize what you’ve done. You pause, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I didn’t mean to—”

Cregan smiles, cutting off your apology with a soft chuckle. “Don’t apologize,” he says, taking the plate from you. “No one’s cooked for me in years. This is a nice change.”

The breakfast passes in quiet companionship, the clinking of forks against plates the only sound between you. Cregan sits across from you at the small, wooden table, his dark eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours. There’s something calming about him—his steady presence, his unhurried movements. He doesn’t fill the silence with idle chatter, but when he speaks, his voice is warm and genuine, his words always just enough.

“So,” Cregan starts after a few bites, his tone casual but curious, “what brings you to this part of the country in the middle of a storm?”

You take a moment, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “My great-aunt had a house not far from here. She passed away recently, and it was left to me. I was planning to fix it up and sell it, but…” You gesture to the window, the rain still tapping softly against the glass. “The weather had other plans.”

Cregan’s expression shifts slightly, like he’s searching through memories. “I think I know the place,” he says after a moment. “Old stone house, right? Near the edge of the woods?”

You nod, surprised. “That’s the one. You know it?”

He nods back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Did some construction work there a few years back. Just small stuff—repairs on the roof, fixed up some windows. It’s a nice place, though. Needs some care, but it’s solid.”

His knowledge of the house comforts you in a way you didn’t expect. “That’s good to know,” you say, smiling a little. “I was worried I’d show up and find it falling apart.”

Cregan chuckles softly. “It’s seen better days, but nothing too bad and that place has a lot of history.”

His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. “Really?”

He smiles faintly. “Yeah, old places like that need a lot of upkeep, but it’s got character. I imagine it must be pretty overwhelming, though—handling all that on your own.”

You shrug, but there’s a truth to his words. “It is,” you admit. “I’ve never taken on a project like this before, but… it feels right to try. It’s strange,” you continue after a beat, “being in a place I’ve never known but somehow connected to through family.”

Cregan watches you with a thoughtful expression. “I get that,” he says quietly. “Sometimes, places have a way of pulling you in, whether you mean for them to or not.”

His words resonate with you more than you expected. You’re struck by how easy it feels to talk to him, how naturally the conversation flows between you. There’s a quiet understanding between you both, even though you’ve only just met.

“Do you have family around here?” you ask, curious about the man who’s been so kind to you.

Cregan shakes his head. “No,” he replies, a small, wistful smile playing on his lips. “Grew up around here, but it’s just me now. The inn’s been in my family for generations, though. Figured I’d stick around and keep it running.”

There’s a beat of quiet before he asks, “So, are you planning to stick around for a while?”

You shrug, stirring your tea absentmindedly. “That depends on how long it takes to get the house in order. I hadn’t planned on staying long, but…” You glance out the window again, the rain still falling in a steady, rhythmic pattern. “It seems like I don’t have much of a choice right now.”

Cregan nods thoughtfully. “The roads will be blocked for a bit. We’re used to it around here, though—it’ll clear up soon enough.”

You offer him a small smile. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it too.”

There’s something easy about being with him. The conversation flows naturally, without effort. His quiet presence is calming, and despite the storm raging outside, you feel a sense of peace you hadn’t expected. He’s not just some stranger running an inn; there’s a depth to him, something steady and kind beneath the rugged exterior.

When the plates are empty, you help him clear the table, insisting that it’s the least you can do after taking over his kitchen.

As you stand by the sink, washing the dishes together, you feel his gaze on you again, and when you glance over, you catch him watching you with a small, amused smile.

“What?” you ask, a laugh escaping your lips.

He shrugs, leaning against the counter. “Just not used to having someone help out around here,” he says. “It’s… nice.”

You dry your hands and turn to face him fully, your smile lingering. “Well, I’m not used to storms like this, or being stranded in small inns, so I guess we’re both out of our element.”

He chuckles, the sound low and pleasant. “Seems like it.”

The rain outside begins to let up, and the inn feels warmer, and cozier now that you’ve shared a meal and conversation with Cregan. There’s a comfort in the quiet moments, a sense of calm that settles over you.

Just as you’re about to say something, the door to the inn opens, and a gust of wind sweeps in along with a couple of drenched locals seeking shelter from the rain. Cregan straightens, pushing off the counter with a nod toward you.

“Duty calls,” he says with a smile, his tone teasing but gentle. “I’ll check in with you later, alright?”

You nod, returning his smile. “Thanks, Cregan.”

As he heads back toward the bar, you linger in the kitchen for a moment longer, your thoughts still on the quiet connection that had sparked between you. It’s subtle, but it’s there—something warm and easy, something that feels like the beginning of something good.

For the first time since the storm began, you feel like maybe getting stranded here wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 10 Home

Summary: How bittersweet it is to come home. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 8.6k Warnings: NONE!!!! Find out for yourselves xoxo A/N: If you made it this far, thank you. This obviously isn't the absolute END, there will be an epilogue to come... but I still want to thank each and every one of you. This series has such a special place inside my heart, and I will be forever grateful for the love and support you all have given. All the kisses and hugs and love to you all. (I also realize there are going to be a few questions left unanswered, but I promise it'll be resolved in the epilogue) * And once again, I'm the most thankful to @loonmartell for helping me create the most beautiful story. Sending you all my love, sweet pea <3 *

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You most definitely had a concussion—which was not ideal when you were behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. Not only were you trying to subdue the memories still filtering through your mind, but you were also trying to navigate the roads with blurred vision. Streetlights that had once been unfamiliar slowly morphed into a memorized path, leading you right back to the place you once called home. Sarah had guided you home just months ago after a soccer game, but this was different. This was a reawakening, a thousand tiny moments rising from their endless slumber. Each turn of the wheel and stopsign guided you back to the one person your heart cried out for… Joel. 

If only your brain and heart could get on the same page. While your heart ached for Joel in ways you hadn’t felt in months, your mind still clung to the anger you associated with him over the last several months. You couldn’t just stop loving him, but you didn’t know how to stop hating him at the same time. 

The final turn into his neighborhood was coming up fast, yet your speed came to a crawl. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he could have moved on. Half a year was enough time for Joel to move on, to find another woman, to be happy without you. You experienced the exact opposite: you couldn’t move on, didn’t find another man, and were far from happy. Seeing him again was probably a mistake, but how would you move on now that you knew everything?

The nausea was back in full force as you pulled up to Joel’s home, his truck parked crooked in the driveway. This was your home once upon a time. Yeah, you were going to be sick again. Wrenching the door open, you leaned out of your car and dry-heaved. Nothing came up, which you were thankful for. You needed a strong stomach and a clear mind for whatever would come. The ground beneath your feet became distorted as you walked the path up his front yard. You took a moment to shake away the double-vision, your mind clouding around the edges. It was not the time to lose your grip on reality. 

The worn wood of Joel’s front door taunted you, your hand hovering over the center as you debated knocking. All it would take is a quick rap of your knuckles, and you’d see him again. Before you could sabotage yourself, your knuckles tapped against the door. 

“Comin’!” 

The sound of Joel’s voice in the distance electrified your nerves. He was right there. Any moment, he’d open the door and—.

The door cracked open, and you stared up into the familiar brown eyes that plagued every memory overlapping inside your mind. Joel stood motionless, his eyebrows slightly raised and lips parted. He looked at you as if you were a ghost. You gave him the most pathetic smile, unsure of what to do with your hands or body. 

“Can I come in?” You blurted out. 

“Of course,” he said softly, opening the door wider. 

A simple step over the threshold, and you were home. 

You took a moment to let it all settle in: nothing had changed. The varnish was worn in certain places on the floor, the same as it had been when you lived here. Joel walked the same path daily: through the front door and to the right, directly into the kitchen. Sarah’s soccer bag hung on the staircase railing, a pair of her shoes strewn across the second step. 

“Is Sarah home?” You asked, your eyes still wandering around the downstairs of the house.

“No, she’s stayin’ with a friend this weekend,” he replied.

Joel shifted his weight, tearing your focus away from the house and back onto him. There was a look of confusion furrowing his brows together, and you realized you hadn’t entirely explained yourself to him yet.

“Listen, I know I’m here unannounced,” you started. “I, uh, I haven’t touched the book since you gave it back. Well, I didn’t until today. I found it again, and this slipped out.”

Digging through your purse, you pinched the Polaroid between your fingers and pulled it free. Joel hesitantly reached for it, his fingers avoiding touching yours as he held it between his hands. A small smile formed on his lips as he ran his thumb over the photo's edges. 

“This was from a campin’ trip we went on with Sarah,” he sighed. “Sarah had just taken a tumble in some mud, and I remember I couldn’t stop laughin’, and you were quick with a camera and snapped this photo.”

“I know.”

“I got a photo of you, too. I still got it hangin’ up somewhere—.”

Joel’s voice trailed off, his eyes drifting up to yours. He had been so wrapped up in reminiscing that he didn’t listen to what you said. 

“Do you still have the one of Sarah, too?” 

Joel’s eyes grew wide, swaying in place. 

“You remember?” He faltered.

“I remember everything, Joel.”

Not Mr. Miller. Joel. 

Joel opened and closed his mouth at least three times before finally just shaking his head. He took a step back, letting the picture fall to the ground. You glanced down at the Polaroid lying between your feet, the photo of Joel doubling in your vision. Your body moved on its own accord, your balance teetering as you stumbled a bit to the side. Joel quickly caught your weight, his hands firm around your arm. 

“Woah,” he exhaled. “Y’okay?”

“I might have a concussion,” you laughed absently. “Took a bit of a fall earlier and hit my head.”

Joel cursed under his breath and slipped an arm around your waist, guiding you toward the dining room. Sunlight bled through the window shades on the wall, and you squinted your eyes to avoid intensifying your headache. The kitchen was just as you had remembered: cluttered and homey. Piles of dishes were laid in a drying rack by the sink, the dark countertops void of dirt aside from a few crumbs from toast or a residual ring of condensation from a beer bottle.

Joel helped you into one of the dining room chairs, moving swiftly to get you a glass of water. You weren’t sure if he meant to do it, but he had sat you in your chair at the table, the one you had always chosen during any family meal with him and Sarah. You smoothed your hands over the table, digging your nails into the groves of the woodwork.

“Here,” Joel said, extending a glass to you. 

You muttered a soft thank you, taking a drink as he took a seat beside you—his seat. The silence between you both was louder than the ringing in your ears, and you couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“Say something,” you pleaded.

Joel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he peered up at you through glassy eyes. You knew that look: the exhaustion, the sadness. You had worn it well the last several months, and clearly, so did Joel. The person you were six months ago would have loved seeing Joel look so disheveled, but not now. Not when the past was hanging in the balance, finally uncovered and real. 

“Does Bennett know you’re here?” Joel asked, his eyes rising to yours. 

“What?” You gaped. Out of all the things Joel could have said, he chose that?

“Tommy saw y’all together,” he huffed. 

You wracked your brain, remembering when Tommy could have seen you and Bennett together. The only time you had seen Bennett was after the…. Oh. 

“He asked to meet me after everything happened,” you explained. “He wanted to share his side of things. You left out a lot, Joel. There was so much you didn’t tell me, and I had to rely on Bennett to piece the rest back together.”

“Are you datin’ him again? ‘Cause if you are, just tell me, and I’ll—I’ll find a way to move on and let you be happy. I ain’t gonna get in the way of your happiness, even if that means it’s with him.”

There was no way to ignore the bitterness in his words, yet you stifled a laugh. 

“After everything that’s happened, you actually think I'd go back to him?” You questioned. 

“Christ, I don’t know,” Joel sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. 

“Bennett’s married,” you stated. “You must not have seen his wedding band when you were beating the shit out of him.”

Joel was harrowingly silent, his eyes trained on the work boots covering his feet. All you ached for was some sort of reaction—some kind of response—and he gave nothing. Your expectations had been set so high for this moment, yet nothing was going as you hoped. 

“I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest,” you said.

“Of course.” 

“Why didn’t you fight for me?” You whispered. “When everyone was making decisions for me, why didn’t you step in and fight back?”

“I tried,” he lamented. “Your family decided on everythin’, and I couldn’t step in.”

“Yes, you could have,” you pressed. 

You brushed your hand over the stumble on his jaw, lifting his face to meet yours. You saw it deep within the dark brown of his eyes: regret. 

“That’s not a good enough answer, Joel. No one fought for me,” you pressed. “I was alone in everything, and you should have been the one person standing up to them against everything they were choosing to do. You let Bennett come back into my life when you knew he had been horrible to me in the past. Why were you so willing to just let me go?”

Joel grabbed your free hand and brought it to his lips, pressing soft kisses into the center of your palm. It wasn’t till the first tear hit your fingers that you realized he was crying. Joel looked defeated, his face framed between one hand and your other pressed against his lips. Truly and utterly defeated. 

“I never wanted to let you go. Sayin’ that last goodbye to you while you were in the hospital was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do, and I ain’t got no excuses for the choices I made. If I could go back and change everythin’, I would. I swear I would in a heartbeat. Losin’ you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I know I coulda done more. You deserved more. You deserved better, and I shoulda been the one there for you. Not Bennett. I know I ruined everything. Fuck, I—I really fucked it all up.”

“I hate you for what you did,” you said, lifting your hand to brush away his tears. “I hate you so much for hurting me.”

Joel only nodded, more tears streaming down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, tracing the line of his beard as it dipped down to his jaw. Joel released a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. 

“There ain’t enough words to describe how sorry I am,” he mumbled into your hand. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for hurtin’you, and I’ve been livin’ with that guilt for years. I just wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.”

“I was happy, Joel. With you. I loved you so much. So many memories are still unraveling in my head, but in each of them, I know I loved you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he cried softly. 

“I hate you, Joel. I hate you, but I can’t ignore the fact that I still love you. I love the life we built together and the memories we made with Sarah. I miss this house, and I miss this kitchen where we’d make breakfast together. I miss waking up beside you every day. I miss staying up late with you and annoying you about the books I was reading.” You took a deep breath, trying to slow yourself down. “I miss you, Joel. I don’t know how long it will take me to forgive you, but I—I really miss you.”

A choked sob escaped from Joel’s mouth, and he leaned his head back, your hands falling into your lap. You didn’t know what to do with yourself other than try not to throw up—because your body was still trying to desperately fight off the nausea rolling inside your stomach. Confessing feelings while also battling a minor concussion had not been your brightest idea, but you had braved through worse before. 

So many moments of silence passed before Joel finally glanced back at you, his lips twitching as he held back another round of tears. 

“Y’have no fuckin’ idea how much I miss you,” he confessed. “I’ve waited so long for the moment you’d remember everythin’. I tried to imagine what I’d do when y’got those memories back, and… fuck. I’m so sorry for everythin’ I did.”

You took his hands in yours, interlocking your fingers around his. It was your turn to start crying, and you felt the tears fall against your fingers.

“What did you do?” You asked. “When you imagined me getting my memories back, what did you do?”

“I imagined kissin’ you and tellin’ you how much I loved you,” he said.

“What’s taking you so long?”

In one fluid motion, Joel sent his chair flying backward as he dropped to his knees before you. Reaching up, he cupped your face between his large hands, his mouth hovering over yours. You weren’t sure what he was waiting for, but you gave him a simple nod, and that was enough. 

The first kiss was delicate— cautionary. He wavered between losing control and reluctance, the path of his lips moving fluidly like they had always known their place against yours. It was so much different than the first kiss months ago, where then it had been about discovery and excitement, each draw of your bodies together new and profound. But now, it was a kiss to rekindle a flame that had dwindled out, a resurgence of emotions neither of you had experienced in years. Yes, those few months together had been exhilarating, but you had barely scratched the surface of where the bounds of your love lay.

You were the first to cave into the chaos, deepening the kiss until Joel’s movements determined your breathing. When his head moved, so did yours. When his tongue overlapped yours, you repeated the motion. Over and over until you lost the ability to identify where you started and he ended. 

“Joel,” you panted, his lips still crushed against yours.

“Hmm?”

He was too enamored with you to respond coherently. You raked your nails over his scalp, refamiliarizing yourself with the softness of his curls. Joel groaned into your open mouth, his tongue dancing with yours once more.

“Joel,” you muttered again. 

“Yeah, baby?” He exhaled, finally breaking away from your swollen lips. 

You pressed your forehead against his, your eyelashes fluttering up at him. Joel looked down at you with blown pupils, the brown color in his eyes nearly black as he waited for your response.

“I think you forgot to say something,” you whispered, laughing softly. 

“Don’t think I forgot at all, baby. Just wanted to savor you a minute,” Joel grinned. “I love you. God, I love you so fuckin’ much. Ain’t ever gonna stop tellin’ you how much I love you.”

“I still don’t forgive you for everything,” you reminded him. “It’ll take me some time to heal from all of this fully.”

Joel brushed his nose against yours, his lips tugging upward.

“I got all the time in the world, baby. Gonna spend every damn day provin’ myself to you. I’m already on my knees for you. Anythin’ you ask of me, I’ll give it to you.”

Breathless. You were breathless. This was the man you should have spent your life with, the man you should have married. Joel saw his faults, admitted them, and submitted himself to you out of love and dedication. Anger was still to be had, but it could wait. 

“Anything?” You echoed.

He trailed his fingers up your bare legs, his hands teasing their way higher. You mindlessly decided on a dress earlier and thanked yourself for it. A shiver ran over your skin as he pushed the hem of the dress further up, his head bending down to kiss a path over your knee and up your thigh. 

“God, I missed you so damn much, baby,” Joel groaned, his tongue gliding over your pebbled skin.

“Show me how much you missed me.”

Joel lay his head in your lap, his puppy dog eyes staring up at you with a glimmer of desire. You knew that look; you had seen it so many times before in his eyes. Too many memories had taken their place in your mind to ever let you forget the way Joel looked at you when he wanted you. 

“Can I?” He asked, brushing his hand between your thighs.

Your body responded easily to his touch, a familiarity you once knew. The friction of your underwear against your clit was growing uncomfortable as it throbbed at the vibration of his voice. Like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to Joel in more ways than one. You craved to be touched, to be pulled apart and put back together in the ways only he knew. 

Joel tugged your ass down to the edge of the chair, flicking the hem of your dress into your lap. You tried working your fingers over the band of your underwear, but Joel beat you to it with a swiftness that left you dizzy. Well, dizzier than you already were. 

Joel hoisted your calves over his shoulders, settling himself between your thighs. Flashes of memories in this exact position came flooding in; this was familiar. Familiarity beyond compare and something you desperately yearned for. 

“Please,” you whined.

He wasted no time giving in to your plea. Joel licked a thick stripe up your slick entrance, rewarding himself with a soft moan leaving your lips. You unknowingly lied months ago when you said no one had tasted you like this… Joel had. He thrived on giving you pleasure like this, doing this countless times before. He knew your body better than anyone else, and your body cried out for him in ways you could not control. 

He devoured you like he sought to destroy the years of distance that had passed between you. Every flick of his tongue against the apex of your sex, every gravelly moan from his throat—it all revolved around that undeniable truth that you both were meant to be together. That’s how it should have always been. 

“More,” you begged.

Words failed you, yet Joel knew what you needed. His tongue plunged inside of you, curling ever so slightly. The pleasure inside you burned slowly, igniting a warmth through your veins. You throbbed against his mouth, his breath hot on your skin as he latched onto your clit. You arched against him, your hand snaking down to latch onto the hair on his scalp. Joel let out a prideful moan, working his tongue faster against your aching bud. 

“There… right there…” You whimpered.

Joel gave the softest nod as if to say I know, driving you closer to the edge. A hitch of your breath, another flick of his tongue, repeated motions back and forth until your orgasm was crashing against the surface. You cried out, tears springing from your eyes as you succumbed to the climax wracking through your limbs. Joel pulled away, his mouth and mustache glistening from your release. 

Lowering your legs off his shoulders, Joel wordlessly hooked an arm around your waist and hauled you onto the dining table, the wood creaking under the weight. You pawed at his shirt, and Joel obliged your silent request as he yanked it over his head. You lifted yourself on your forearms, drinking in the sight of his bare chest. You glanced up at Joel to catch him smirking, amused by your silence.

“Y’can’t be lookin’ at me like that, baby,” Joel groaned, stepping between your open legs. “Not when I got you spread out and ready for me.”

“I can look at you however I want,” you smiled. 

Joel leaned down to meet your lips, dragging you in for a long kiss. 

“I missed you so fuckin’ much,” he chuckled.

His lips worked their way down your neck, sucking marks into your skin, while his hands worked quickly at the belt around his waist. Hooking one leg around his waist, you drew him closer, your breath hitching as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

Joel drove himself deep inside you in one thrust, the tip of his cock spearing into you. You gasped as his cock filled you with its entirety, your body stretched passed comfortability. You forgot how much you loved feeling him everywhere. With his cock fully seated inside you, Joel leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I need to hear y’say it, baby,” he begged. “Please tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Joel,” you exhaled. “I love you.”

That’s all he needed to hear—a simple admission, a coupling of words that rewrote the story lost between the both of you. You spent months trying to deny your love for him, but there was no way to deny this connection. There was always an invisible string connecting you both, and though the string had frayed and unraveled, this moment snapped it back into place. 

“I love you,” Joel said. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you go.”

He pulled out slowly, only to snap his hips forward and render you speechless. You reached up to hold him against you, your nails digging crescent-shaped marks into his shoulder blades. Thrust after thrust, Joel drilled into you forcefully—brutally. You cried out every time his body slapped against yours, and your vision started to blur around the edges. Your core clenched around him, your thighs slick from your arousal that dripped between your bodies. 

“Takin’ my cock so well, baby,” Joel praised. “Doin’ so good for me.”

“Yes… yes…” You chanted the word between every thrust that he assaulted you with, every caress of his fingers around your waist, another revelation of how perfect you were together. 

“My perfect—fuck—perfect girl,” he gritted out.

Joel locked an arm around your back and lifted you from the table, spinning you both until your back hit the wall across from the table. The impact was enough to knock the air from your lungs and dizzy your mind, but he gave you no opportunity to recover before he was driving upwards into you, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through your muscles. With one arm braced around your body and a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, Joel ground into you deeper…slower… your body begging for release. He could sense it, too, the way your thighs tightened around his waist and your cheeks dampened with tears.

“Yeah, I can feel it, baby,” Joel crooned. “I know you’re close. Gonna cum for me? Gonna give me what I want?”

“Please,” you cried, nodding vigorously.

Joel crushed his lips against yours, and you sobbed into his open mouth. Your body sized around him as your orgasm tore through you, stronger than the first. His thrusts stalled as your core pulsed through the aftershocks, the room spinning quicker every time another wave of release rocked through your stomach.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl. Give me everythin’. I got you. Keep goin’.”

It was disastrous how obedient your body was to his commands. You entangled yourself in him, your tongue rolling over his tongue to silence his muffled words. Joel wasn’t far behind you, and soon enough, he punched out your name through clenched teeth, spilling himself into you. 

You rested your head back against the wall, his body sagging into yours as you both fought for air. The slow drip of his cum down your inner thigh and the sweat clinging to your brow was the only sensation you could feel as time passed in comfortable silence. 

“I love you, baby,” Joel groaned, his head falling onto your shoulder.

You carded a hand through his hair, leaning your cheek against his sweat-dampened curls. Right there, in Joel’s arms, everything made sense. The anger inside you could dissolve away—at least for a little while—and you could remind yourself that this was what love felt like. To be held. To be seen. To be cherished. 

Faint sounds of sniffling traveled past the rush of blood pumping in your ears, and you tugged at his curls to pull his head off your shoulder. Joel looked up at you through blurry eyes, his thick lashes coated in fresh tears. 

“It’s okay,” you hushed. 

“It’s not, though,” he argued. “I shoulda came back sooner. I shouldn’t have waited. There’s so much time we can’t get back, baby. S’all my fault.”

“We’ve got time,” you said softly. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you, Joel.”

“Promise?” He asked. 

“I promise.”

The evening grew late, and both you and Joel had settled into bed. It surprised you when you cried at seeing his room again, realizing nothing about it had changed. The fan was still humming softly in the corner as it always had, the soft breeze floating over the bedsheets as you climbed under the covers. Miscellaneous items were scattered on his dresser, and worn clothes littered the floor beside his hamper. Joel mumbled a slew of apologies at the sight of the mess, but it only made you cry harder. You didn’t care if it was messy. You only cared that you were finally home. Even without the memories resurfacing, your house never felt this way. It had never been a home because Joel wasn’t there to make it a home.

“How’re y’feelin’, baby?” Joel asked, his hand drawing circles into your back as you leaned against his naked body. 

“Like I could spend the rest of the night throwing up,” you said, half-jokingly. 

Your headache was splintering into a full-blown migraine, and your body had yet to recover from the fall earlier in the day. You had no regrets about being fucked against the wall, but it definitely proved to have done some damage to your fragile state.

“If I had known y’needed a good hit to the head to get all these memories back, I woulda tripped you myself,” Joel teased.

You attempted to laugh, only to have the nausea rising in your throat silence your efforts. 

“Don’t make me laugh right now,” you groaned, curling yourself tighter around his body.

“S’only kiddin’, baby. I’m just way too damn happy to have you in my arms again. I spent the last few months tryna figure out how I’d go on livin’ without you.”

“It wasn’t easy for me either,” you sighed. “I hardly recognize myself most days.”

“I won’t lie, seein’ you at parent-teacher conferences nearly broke me,” Joel admitted. 

“It broke me, too.”

Silence slipped over you, and the fan turned into the only noise inside the bedroom. Joel’s chest rose and fell softly under your head, his heart pounding echoing through your ear as you pressed yourself further into his embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. “I wish I had a better word to describe how sorry I am. It wasn’t right of me to lie to you, and I shouldn’t have ever let your family make that decision.”

“I haven’t talked to them in months,” you muttered. “I don’t know how to forgive them for what they did.”

“Y’don’t need to forgive them until you’re ready. I just hope y’know they love you, baby.”

“I do know they love me, and that’s why it’s so hard. How can they love me yet still hurt me so much?”

Joel pressed a soft kiss against the crown of your head, his fingers squeezing around your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” you said, your voice cracking. “But I don’t know how to feel anything but anger towards them. Especially toward Beth. The things she’s said to me in the past…How do I forgive her?”

“I ain’t gonna take sides,” he cautioned. “But I think the accident affected her the hardest. She was so angry at your family's plan, and I think she took out a lot of that anger on you when y’didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair that she gets to be angry when she wasn’t the one that lost everything.”

“You were her everythin’, baby,” Joel whispered. “She lost you.”

“You’re taking her side,” you grumbled.

“I’m just tryna show you the other side of things,” Joel offered. 

“I know you are.”

Joel sunk further into the pillows, dragging you down beside him. You nestled into his arms, your limbs twisting around him like they had a hundred times before. It’s odd what your body remembers, but your brain forgets; it is a simple gesture of an embrace that can never be entirely forgotten. You understood why things always felt so right when you met him again last year; your soul knew he was the missing piece that had been lost. 

Joel spoke your name softly, the syllables more beautiful than ever when they rolled through his accent. You hummed in response, gazing up at him through tired eyes.

“I woulda waited an eternity for you, baby,” he confessed. “I woulda gone to my grave waitin’ to have you back in my arms like this again.”

You blinked away the tears welling in your eyes, failing miserably to hide the quiver of your lips. Joel didn’t wait for your response, nor could you verbalize anything to match the poetry of his words. You only nodded and said, " I love you, " before your eyes drifted shut. Home. You were home.

Joel was softly snoring when you woke up. In the quiet light of the morning, you took the time to admire every softened feature of his face. The worried creases between his brows had smoothed overnight, yet you still found yourself brushing a finger over the spot they usually were. Brushing your hand down his face, you traced the outline of his lips, slightly parted and pouty, the soft kiss more kissable now than ever. Kissing him could wait; you wanted to savor this moment. 

You drew a path down his neck and chest, the spattering of hair across his torso tickling your fingertips. Joel stirred above you, his head rolling to the other side of the pillow. His eyes never opened, though, and you took the opportunity to crawl under the sheets. 

Joel’s cock lay heavy against his lower abdomen, precum leaking onto the soft skin of his stomach. You ran your hands over his hips, settling yourself lower until you were comfortable between his legs. His cock twitched as you wrapped a hand around his length, stroking him slowly and deliberately. Leaning your head down, you kissed up the shaft of his cock, dragging your tongue up the length and around the head. Joel’s body tensed up, yet he still didn’t wake. You took him into your mouth, the salty taste and musky scent overwhelming your senses. You hadn’t pleasured him like this in so long, and you had forgotten how much you loved it. 

Taking him deeper, you flattened your tongue, teasing the base of his cock with the tip of your tongue. You faintly heard a moan slip from Joel’s mouth, his cock twitching against your tongue. 

“Baby?” He groaned.

You hummed softly, pulling him from your mouth. With your saliva coating the entirety of his cock, you pumped him quicker, feeling his body seize up under your touch. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, bucking his hips upward. 

You rewarded him with another swirl of your tongue over the head of his cock, your mouth and hand working in tandem. He was close; you could feel it. 

“Just like that, baby. Forgot—fuck—forgot how good your mouth feels.”

You took him deeper, the tip of his cock tapping against the back of your throat. You sputtered around him, drool rolling down the corners of your mouth, yet you didn’t stop. Hollowing your cheeks, you heard Joel choke out a gasp. The warmth of his release flooded your mouth, coating the back of your throat and tongue. You drank down every drop, pulling off of him with a soft pop.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed, slumping into the pillows. “Get your ass up here, baby.”

You crawled over his body, your legs straddling his waist. Joel grinned up at you, his tired eyes still barely open as he drank in your naked body. 

“C’mere,” he yawned, reaching up to grab the back of your neck.

His soft lips met yours, and you molded your body to him, letting him guide your mouth however he pleased. There was still a pang of anger tucked into the darkest corner of your heart, but you knew with time, it might fade away, and all you wanted was to bask in Joel’s love as long as possible. Things would take time, but you were willing to work on it. 

“I missed wakin’ up to you,” Joel muttered, his lips working down your jaw.

You could feel him growing hard against your core as you ground your hips down on him. It was impossible to hide the fact you were slick with arousal between your thighs, your body terribly responsive to every touch he placed on your body.

“You’re drenchin’ me, baby,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy now.”

“I’m all yours.”

“Damn fuckin’ right you are.”

You lifted your hips, notching his cock at your entrance. Inch by inch, you sunk onto him, both of you exhaling a shaky moan as he stretched you open. Leaning forward, you laced your fingers through Joel’s, holding him firm in your grasp. All you ached for was the tenderness he could provide, the slow synchronicity that flowed through his body and into yours. 

A gentle rub of his thumb over the back of your hand, the slow rise and fall of your hips against his cock… it was the lazy movements that spoke louder than words. It was the recognition that you were his just as he was yours. Soft moans fell off your lips as Joel guided you against his cock, little reassuring grunts leaving his mouth with each roll of your body.

“S’fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” Joel exhaled.

The sun seeping through the blinds lit the amber flecks around his pupils, the morning light painting his naked body golden. The veins beneath his thick neck strained as he lifted his head to watch you, his lips parted in awe as you sucked him further inside your slicken sex. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he demanded. “Let me feel you fall apart around me.”

Your fingers slipped away from his hand, brushing down his flexed stomach as you made a path to your throbbing clit. The feather-like touch immediately sparked pleasure through your core. You clenched around his cock, whimpering with each circle of your fingertips. 

“I feel it, baby. I know you’re close.”

“Mhmm,” you whined.

Joel raised his body to press into your chest, one hand cradling your heavy breast, the other kneading the flesh of your ass. With his weight against your body, your hand pressed harder against your clit, the arousal pooling between where your bodies connect. 

Your head fell onto his shoulder, teeth sinking into his sweat-covered skin. Joel groaned at the sensation, only grounding you down harder onto his cock. You needed every atom of your being injected with Joel; every one of your senses evaded with his taste, touch, and scent. 

“Joel,” you mumbled, nestling your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m so close… so close.”

“I got you, baby. Gonna fall apart right here with you.”

He barely finished speaking by the time your orgasm ignited in your stomach, your body shuddering within his embrace. Joel spoke your name in broken syllables, his release pouring into you only moments later. 

Neither of you broke apart once your spasms subsided. Joel tangled a hand into the hair resting at the nape of your neck, urging your lips to his. Slotting your mouth over his, you slipped your tongue over his bottom lip, a starved search for a deeper connection. Joel fulfilled your need, devouring the soft sounds you exhaled.

Slowly—reluctantly—you tore from his lips, gasping for air to fill your lungs. Joel’s swollen lips formed into a crooked smile, his brown eyes softening the longer he gazed at you. Somewhere inside your chest, you felt that pain reawaken, a haunting reminder that you could have had this all along. Had the lies never been told… Joel would have always been yours. 

How did he survive the years of pain? How did he allow himself to let you go, knowing you’d never be satisfied with another?

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you turned your head to hide the emotions cresting over your face. Nothing went unnoticed with Joel, and he gently pinched your chin to bring your eyes back to his. With furrowed brows, Joel studied your features, the realization striking home for him, too.

“I know you’re scared, baby,” he whispered. “And I know there’s a lot I gotta fix between us, but I swear to you that I ain’t ever gonna leave again. I made that mistake once, and I’ll never do it again.”

“I want to trust you, Joel. I’m trying. But I don’t know how to forget what you’ve done… what everyone has done. There’s so much pain inside me. It’s unbearable.” 

Joel cradled your face in his hands, leveling you with a gaze you couldn’t discern. So many emotions swirled within his eyes, an endless expanse of grief that weighed him down. 

“Give me your pain. Give me all your anger and everything inside you, and I swear I’ll keep you safe. Y’ain’t ever gonna be alone again. Not while I’m still breathin’, baby. It’s you and me. Forever.”

“Forever,” you echoed. 

“Yes, forever. I don’t want another moment of my life without you in it. I can’t lose you again.”

“I can’t lose you, either,” you cried. “I never wanted to lose you in the first place, so please don’t leave.”

Joel’s eyes clouded with tears, and he shook his head. 

“I love you too much ever to leave you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m keepin’ you so long as y’let me.”

Eventually, you both made it out of the bed. Joel grumbled at your wishes to leave, keeping you in his arms and peppering your skin with kisses. It wasn’t long before your dizziness set back in, and you were demanding water and painkillers. 

As Joel poured you a glass of water, you found yourself swaying against the cold tile floors of the kitchen, the corners of your vision blurring. Your nails scratched at the kitchen countertop as you tried to suppress the lightheaded feeling creeping in. You just needed to sit…that’s all you needed. 

You called out Joel’s name the moment your knees buckled beneath you. His body moved in a foggy haze as you tried to keep consciousness, yet you were being pulled beneath the surface of your headache. Strong hands tucked themselves under your armpits, and Joel lowered you to the ground. 

“Baby?” His voice was frantic—strained. 

You mumbled a few incoherent words as your body sagged into his arms. Christ, your head ached. You hadn’t experienced a fainting spell since the accident, and you forgot how terrifying it was. 

Joel choked out your name, his hand snaking around your jaw to wag your head back and forth. You could see his silhouette over you, the shadow molding into the spots within your field of vision, but nothing else registered. Slipping. Drowning. You weren’t strong enough to fight it. Fear set your nerves alight; what if you lost it all again? What if everything melted away into the darkness consuming you? You clawed tooth and nail as your body plunged deeper into unconsciousness. 

It was no use. 

**

Joel paced the hallway outside your hospital room like a madman. The moment you went limp in his arms, he knew something was wrong. He should have taken your injury more seriously and urged you to the hospital yesterday. But he had you in his arms again, and the world would have had to fall apart before he even considered letting you go. Every admission from your lips weighed down on Joel’s shoulders, another swell of guilt growing inside him. He anticipated your anger, your grief, your heartbreak; he willingly listened without argument. His own struggles were nothing compared to what you endured, and he’d be damned if you ever felt those emotions again. Chewing at his nails, Joel glanced back at the open blinds of your hospital room. The doctors assured him you’d be okay; it was only a concussion, and there’d be no complications. That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be absolutely sure you’d recover. 

The door cracked open, and Joel rushed toward the neurologist leaving your room. 

“How is she, doc?” Joel asked. “She’s gonna be okay, right?”

The neurologist, Dr. Oliver, nodded with a soft smile. The smile alone settled the rapid heartbeat banging against Joel's ribcage. 

“Miss Smith is going to be just fine,” Dr. Oliver reassured. “There’s going to be a long road to recovery, but I don’t see any long-term effects. I suggest you bring her in for check-ins with me every few months just to monitor her progress.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Joel nodded. 

“What I need you to do, Mr. Miller, is to help her. She may be a bit forgetful occasionally, so leaving lists around the house or notes will help keep her on track. You do live together, I assume?”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick he had yet to learn how to shake. 

“We don’t, but if y’recommend it…”

“I recommend it, but only because she’ll need someone looking over for her. At least, until she regains enough cognitive strength to keep her memory at full capacity,” Dr. Oliver explained. 

“I can do that, Doc. All I want is for her to be okay.”

Dr. Oliver clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder, his lips curving into a grin. Joel could finally breathe; you’d be okay. 

“You’re a good man, Mr. Miller. She’s lucky to have you here to care for her.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

“Give her some time to rest, and she’ll be clear to go home tomorrow.”

Dr. Oliver said his goodbyes to Joel and bounded down the hallway to other patients. Joel glanced at the open door, your sleeping frame tucked into the bed among the cords and beeping monitors. He entered quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor so he wouldn’t wake you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Joel took your hand in his, cautious to avoid the IV tube taped onto your skin. Smoothing lines over the inside of your wrist, Joel watched you with weary eyes. 

“I love you, baby. I’m gonna be right here when y’wake up,” he vowed. “Like it always shoulda been.”

Leaning over your body, Joel pressed his lips against your forehead, inhaling your sweet scent as he pulled away. 

You’d be okay, and you’d forever be his. 

**

The harsh light above you reflected behind your eyelids. You groaned as you stirred awake, your eyes squinting to adjust to the layers of white surrounding you. Curling your fingers into the scratchy blanket, you found a familiar body sagged into a chair beside the bed. Joel slept peacefully, yet the worry lines creased between his brows. Extending your hand over the edge of the bed, you brushed your palm over his knee. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

His body jolted upright as he scrubbed a hand down his face. Big, brown puppy dog eyes met yours, the concern in his face dissolving away once his eyes settled on yours. He made no effort to contain the smile breaking across his face. 

“Hey, handsome,” you croaked. 

“Baby,” Joel sighed, crouching beside the bed. “How’re y’feelin’?”

“A little fatigued, but I think I’ll live.”

“You better,” he chuckled. 

With your arms outstretched, you ushered Joel into an embrace. Joel’s lips crashed against yours the second he wrapped his arms around you, his touch soft and cautious. Beautiful melancholy emotions wracked your body; this was the moment you ached for from the start. To be held in your vulnerability, to be cherished, to be loved. Joel didn’t leave. He’d always be here, now. 

“There’s someone here to see you, baby,” Joel muttered against your mouth. 

You pulled away, confusion scrunching your eyebrows together. God, don’t let it be your family. 

“I know that look. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be right back. I promise you’ll be happy,” Joel reassured. 

Joel disappeared from the room, and you sat up, settling back into the pillows. You glanced at the monitor beeping beside your bed, the steady line of your heart rate cruising along the screen. Footsteps sounded outside your room, and your eyes flicked back toward the door, a small silhouette hiding behind Joel’s large frame. 

Sarah. 

Her bright eyes looked between you and Joel, her stare quizzical–skeptic. You gave her a small wave, ushering her into the room. 

“Hi, Sarah,” you faltered. The tears were already forming on your waterline. 

“Hi, Miss Smith,” she said wearily. 

You patted the bed, scooting over to make room for her. Her steps were slow as she neared the bedside, her eyes glancing back at Joel. He gave her an encouraging nod, a knowing grin on his lips. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” you laughed softly. 

Sarah settled onto the bed, her tennis shoes swinging over the floor as she fidgeted with her curls. Joel leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile glued to his face. 

“But you’re my teacher,” she muttered. 

You tucked a loose strand behind her ear, the same hair you had braided and brushed years ago. She wasn’t yours, not by birth. But she was yours just as much as Joel was; she was your home. They weren’t just photos captured in time; they were real. They were real, and they were yours. 

“Do you remember when I used to read you bedtime stories?” You wondered aloud. “You would always ask for the same one over and over.”

There it was. The light sparkled in the gold flecks of Sarah’s eyes, the same gold that sat deep within Joel’s. 

“You and Dad would read The Kissing Hand every night,” she nodded. 

“I know you’re a lot older now, but do you remember what we would do before you fell asleep?”

You reached for Sarah’s hand, lifting it to your lips. With a soft kiss on her palm, you guided her hand to her cheek. Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned into your touch, the simple caress of your hand against her face enough to bring you both to the brink of crying. 

“I missed you, kiddo,” you cried softly. 

Sarah threw her arms around your neck, muffling her sobs into your hospital gown as you squeezed your arms tighter around her body. You missed so many milestones and moments of her life because of the accident, so many memories that were never made. Every family meal, every soccer game…you lost them all. 

You lifted your eyes, catching the moment Joel swiped away a tear from his cheek. Beckoning him over with a quick motion of your hand, he crossed the room in two quick strides and wrapped his large arms around you and Sarah. You rested your chin on Sarah’s shoulder, hugging her closer. Joel kissed the crown of Sarah’s head, then placed one on your forehead. 

“Wait,” Sarah blurted out, forcing you all to break apart. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Joel asked, craning his head to look at her. 

“Does that mean you’re coming back home?” She asked. 

You looked at Joel for guidance, trying to find the answers within his gentle gaze. He waited in silence, giving you room to decide. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt about your answer, not when you had everything you needed right here. 

“Only if you promise never to make pancakes again,” you smiled, pinching her cheek. 

She buried herself into your arms again, her head resting against your heart. You looked up at Joel, your mouth forming three little words. 

I love you. 

~ Two weeks later ~

Joel refused any help as he unloaded the last of your boxes from the back of his truck. When you got home from the hospital, you patched up the holes in the wall—with Joel’s help, of course—and got the house ready to sell. It barely lasted a week on the market before the offers came in, making it easy to start packing. That house was filled with memories you didn’t want to remember, memories that you no longer wanted to revisit. It wasn’t home to you anymore. 

You and Sarah sat on the front porch, popsicles in hand, watching as he huffed an exasperated breath once the box hit the steps. Joel straightened out, running sweaty hands down the sides of his jeans, glancing back at the empty truck bed. 

“Well, I think that’s the last of it,” Joel sighed. “Y’sure we ain’t miss anythin’?”

“I think I’ve got all I need right here,” you grinned, nudging Sarah with your shoulder. 

Joel plopped beside you on the porch, leaning over to lick up the sticky residue of the popsicle that had fallen down your arm. You gave him a warning look, shifting your eyes toward Sarah as if to say: Behave. He only shrugged, sticking out his tongue again to tickle your skin. 

“You hungry?” He asked, quirking a brow. 

“Starving!” Sarah declared, rising to her feet. 

You laughed, knowing Joel wasn’t asking her. Nonetheless, you and Joel followed her into the house hand in hand. Over the last couple of weeks, he had decorated the house in countless sticky notes: ones in the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen. Each said something important. The one in the bathroom was stuck on the medicine cabinet, reminding you which toothbrush was yours—the purple one. Joel stuck one by the front door with Sarah’s soccer schedule—snack duty included. There were a few scattered around the kitchen: one telling you where to find the coffee mugs, another one with a list of groceries to buy over the weekend. Three photos hung beside the list, sitting in perfect harmony as they always should have been.  But your favorite was stuck to the cover of Romeo and Juliet, Joel’s messy handwriting scribbled across the yellow paper. It was only a few words but the only reminder you needed. 

Welcome home, baby. 

I love you.

[barefoothighlander]

fear of the dark

summary: ghost is teaching you to evade enemies before your little game turns into something darker

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), dub con, light hunter/prey dynamic, unprotected pinv, fingering, creampie, mask stays on, knife play, name calling, outdoor sex, biting, est relationship

“It goes on like this, green light means it’s active, the red means it’s off” He tucks the comm behind your ear, securing it before pulling his hands back. “This button is to talk, you have to wait for a second for the feed to run through but if anything happens, you tell me”

“Got it, green on, press to talk”

“And keep to channel 4”

You huff a breath, “Okay”

“You ready?”

“What do I get if I outrun you”

“A new skill"

“Boo”

“And if you win” You’re voice is quieter,

“You’ll find out” His thumb strokes across your cheek, “I’ll give you a head start, no leaving the property line, use what I’ve taught you and stay out of my sights, if you make it to sunrise you win”

You smirk, “See you at sunrise”

Turning around you march away from him, moving at a rushed pace, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, the ground is dry which means your tracks will be harder to find, moving your way towards the woods you spare a glance behind you, his large frame relaxed against the side of the house, illuminated by the single light outside as his hands cling to his vest his eyes glued to you.

It’s pitch black outside, the moon provided minimal light through the branches of the tree, guiding your path, you know he doesn’t have his night vision but he’s an expert at finding tracks, one of the few skills his father taught him when they’d go hunting.

You’re breathing heavy as you stumble over rocks, walking for what already felt like hours, navigating around the dark trying to cover your tracks. You make sure to stick to dry ground, knowing that if you stepped in any mud he’d notice the footprints and be on you in an instant.

You reach a small clearing in the woods, deciding it was as good a place as any to take a small rest, you’re not sure how much of a head start he gave you but you know you can’t sit for long. It’s strangely quiet, only a few noises of squirrels running through trees fills the air, there’s no wind or birds, all you can hear is the sound of your own heart, thudding in your ears.

You glimpse at your watch, it’s only midnight, the sun wouldn’t be up for another six hours and you had a lot of ground to cover. Pushing yourself from your position you continue through the woods, avoiding patches of leaves and sticks that could snap as you walk.

Your legs are aching by the time you reach a small stream, trying to navigate your position, doing your best to recall where the stream started. It’s tempting to just jump in, the humid air of summer doing little to cool your sweat beaded skin, the effort of moving up and down hills taking its toll on your muscles.

Fuck it.

If anything it’ll be harder for him to find you in the stream, pulling your boots off and stringing them to your backpack you step in, the coke water forming goosebumps on your skin as you wiggle your toes through the stream. You bend down to grab a hand-full, splashing it against your warm cheeks in an effort to cool down, letting it trickle down your neck as it wets the collar of your shirt.

“Oi, you there?”

His voice rings through your comm, you move to respond but stop yourself, if you answered now he’d know exactly where you were, the noise from the water would echo through your mic, directly into his earpiece.

You jump out of the stream quickly, moving a few paces away so that it was out of earshot before pressing your finger to the button.

"You miss me already?"

“Just checking in"

"Sure"

“Don’t be a brat”

“What are you gonna do about it” You tease through the comms

“Wanna find out?” His voice is deeper

Your hair suddenly stands on end,

He waits a beat, “You need to focus”

“I am”

“What if I was an enemy”

“What are you gonna do, you can’t even find me”

He doesn’t respond.

“Simon?"

The line drops and so does your heart, realizing that he could be directly behind you a sense of panic sets in, you jump back into the stream, following its flow as you rush through the water, your feet splashing it onto your clothes as you make your way through, praying it would cover your tracks.

You’re on edge, the silence of the forest now gone as every twig that snaps grabs your attention, your head on a swivel as you reach a small pond. Stepping out of the water and pulling your boots back on, you squint your eyes around trying to catch a glimpse of him, your breath catching in your throat everytime a branch shifted.

You move further into the woods, checking your watch again 1:36 how had it only been an hour and a half, it felt like forever since you stepped into the trees, the soothing chill of the water now gone, your legs ached from your efforts.

“Are your pants soaked?” His voice breaks your thoughts,

“What?”

“Water was a nice touch”

The line drops again, he’s at the top of the stream which gives you a little bit to gain some distance, tugging your bag around your shoulders you hike further.

Everything starts to look the same, all the trees are reminiscent of each other, you’ll admit you’re lost, but not to him, he’d accuse you of giving up and you didn’t want that. You try your best to navigate your direction, trying to use the stars as some sort of guide but it’s useless, the clouds in the sky block half your view and you can’t remember anything about astronomy anyway, your brain too clouded by the pain in your body.

Your breath hitches at the noise of a branch snapping, your heartbeat now in your ears, you didn't factor in how scary the woods are at night, every sense heightened in the dark.

"Simon?"

You call through your comms but there's no answer, it's dead air, your nerves on fire now, your we’re alone completely, you really didn’t think this through, didn’t stop to consider what would happen if the comms went dead.

You see a small light to your right, squinting your eyes to figure out what it’s from, hoping it was a street light of some sort you move toward it, moving past trees and fallen branches to get to it.

You’re huffing for air as you approach it, your eyes almost shut as it nears, blinding you, you shield your face with a hand,

“What’d I tell you about strange lights”

Your heart drops as you hear him, the crunching of leaves under his boots as he moves near you. You stumble back from him, head turning to find some sort of escape route,

“What’d I tell you love”

you swivel your head from his form to behind you, “They’re deceiving”. In a burst of adrenaline you take off, running away from him as he fades from view, it’s unnerving the way he just walks, he’s not chasing you, it’s like he knows where you’re going.

You’re feet carry you faster than you can think, twisting around trees and over hills, the taste of metal in your mouth as your palm runs over your stomach, a cramp settling into the muscle. You rest against a large oak, closing your eyes and catching your breath, your skin on fire as you try to focus on the sounds around you.

You wait a moment, bracing yourself before turning your body to move, gasping as you feel a hand tug you back.

“Gotcha”

You’re gasping for air as he pins you against the tree, his hands clamped around your arms, keeping you from fighting back.

“Okay, you win, let’s go home”

“Not without my prize”

“Simon, please” Your body is weak against his, no energy left in your muscles as he invaded your space, his chest pressing against yours, the fabric of his vest digging into your flesh.

“You didn’t listen”

“What?” Your brain is a fog

“You did nearly everything wrong, I could’ve had you the minute you stepped into the woods”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize, you’ll learn”

Your hooded eyes plead with him, begging to go home, to rest but finding no sympathy, he leans his face towards yours, his chin next to your neck.

“I think you wanted to get caught, wanted to see what would happen”

His words click in your head, the heat from your skin suddenly transferring to your core, your arms straining against his grip as you let out a small whimper.

“That’s it, isn’t it, you wanted be to find you, to teach you a proper lesson”

He squeezes your arms tighter when you don’t respond, his eyes moving to stare into yours, his gaze is dark something darker behind it.

“That’s alright love, I’ll give you what you want, but you have to listen”

You squeeze your thighs, trying to rid yourself of the ache between them as his hand trails down your side. He removes it for a minute, your stomach flinching as you feel the press of cold metal against it, it forms goosebumps on your skin, he trails it toward your breasts, teasing it through the valley of them before placing it under the hem of your shirt, splitting the fabric up the middle.

The cold air hits your skin causing your nipples to harden as he traces the blade over your skin, pressing it flat against the raised buds.

“You look good like this, all ready for me to use”

Your chest maintains a steady rise and fall, “Si-“

“Not this time love”

Your face falls as you watch his face, the shell of a skull staring back at you, “Ghost, please”

He pays no attention to your words, running his knife along your skin before settling it above the hem of your pants, wriggling your hips to sooth your arousal.

“Needy little thing aren’t you”

He removes his hands from you, giving you an out but you stand in front of him, weak fingers working to undo your pants, he watches as you stumble to step out of them, leaving you in your underwear, the chill outside doing little to settle your nerves.

“Such a perfect little thing” He runs a gloves hand over your breasts, humming as you let out a sigh. Your body freezes as his knife makes contact with your skin again, trailing it towards your core before using it to cut your panties, letting the fabric drop.

He flips the blade, teasing your thighs with the handle of it before he runs it through your folds, biting back a gasp, there was no way to hide your arousal now.

He pulls his knife into view, your slick coating the handle, glistening in front of your face “You’re fucking soaked, you little slut”

“Open your mouth”

You do as he says, flattening your tongue and pushing it out as his hand cups your jaw, holding it open. He runs the handle across the muscle, the taste of yourself dancing over your taste buds as he pushes it slowly into your mouth, stifling a chuckle as you gag around the handle. He watches the string of spit that forms between you and the weapon as he retracts it from your mouth, his eyes glancing toward your core, your unsteady legs holding you up as he brings the weapon towards it.

“Do you think you deserve my cock?”

“Yes, please Ghost”

He teases the handle between your folds, holding it against your weeping core, forcing you to clench around nothing.

Your head falls forward as he pushes it into you, the rough material running along your walls as he pumps it into you. Your hand reaches to brace on his shoulder, holding yourself up before his free hand connects with your throat, pushing you back against the tree. Your body is on display for him, his head looking down to where your cunt is swallowing his blade, groaning at the sight of your slick leaking from your core.

“Greedy little slut, you’d take anything wouldn’t you”

You shake your head, your voice strained by his grip on your neck,

“You will, you’ll take everything I give you”

He thrusts the handle into you faster, tightening his hand as you start to grind yourself down on it,

“Need more, please”

“You wanna cum on my knife you fucking slag”

“Please” You open your eyes at him, your face flush as you silently beg, he releases your throat, allowing you a breath as his gloved hand meets your clit, you arch your back at the contact, the rough circles providing enough stimulation that you feel your knees weaken.

“Do it, cum for me”

His fingers rub along your bud and you come undone, your fingers digging into his vest as you cum with a sob, your body falling forward against him as his fingers work you through your high. He feels you finish, pulling his knife from you, listening to you whimper from the loss of contact as he throws it to the dirt.

His arms lock under your thighs, hoisting your weak from against him and pressing your back against the tree, he grinds his clothed erection against your cunt, your core soaking his pants as your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna take it, all of it”

Your pussy clench’s at the thought, your ears failing to hear hun unzip his pants, the tip of his cock reading through your folds, smearing your slick around your thighs as he lines himself up.

You bury your head in his neck as he pushes in, the stretch of him burning your walls as he stuffs his cock inside. His hands grip your waist, moving you further down his length until his tip is buried in your cervix, your fingers digging into his back as you whimper around him.

“That’s it, gonna fill this tiny cunt”

He holds you against the tree, keeping you up as his hips pull back, his cock dragging against your walls before he thrusts it back in, his balls slap against your ass as he pounds his cock into you, forcing you to take every inch.

“Fuck, can practically see myself in you”

He holds you with one arm while the other presses firmly to your stomach,

“Gonna split you on my fat fucking cock, you’d like that huh?”

His hand makes contact with the side of your ass when you don’t respond,

“I said you’d like that, wouldn’t you”

“Yes!” You scream, the heartbeat in your ears overpowering any other noise in the area as he moulds you to his cock.

“Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum, let you walk around with my seed in your cunt, dirty fucking whore”

He buried himself deeper with every thrust, pulling almost all the way out only to force his length back in, the weight behind his thrust bouncing you up and down, his eyes watching the way your breasts jump with every pump of his cock.

His fingers trail to your sensitive clit, pinching the bud, you let out a yelp, bearing your teeth into the base of his neck as he grunts, you mark his flesh as his grip on you gets tighter, sure to leave bruises in their wake.

Tears well in the corners of your eyes as you drop your cheek to his shoulder, the saliva in your moth dripping to wet his collar as he works another orgasm from you.

“Cum on my cock, want you to soak me, feel you squeeze me with your tight little cunt”

The bark of the tree scrapes against your bare skin, forcing you to arch into him, his cock driving deeper into you as you sob around him, his fingers circling and flicking over your clit, the band inside you stretching as your body melts.

You clench down on him, greedily taking every inch as you cum, your slick dripping from your core to wet his cock, your cum coating the opening of his pants as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, the friction from his pubic hair adding another layer as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re reduced to whimpers as he takes over all your senses, all you can hear, feel, see is him, the way his cock has you full, his grunts filling your ears as your gaze is stuck on him.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, such a perfect little slut”

You cling to him with weak limbs as his knuckles go white from his gold on you, his arms rising you up and down to meet his thrusts as he chases his high,

“That’s it, fuck that’s it, taking me so well”

He quickens his pace, fucking you ruthlessly, your aching core sucking him in as he pushes his length into you, his tip buried deep inside your walls as he holds you against his chest. Your lower stomach warms with the feeling of him spilling inside you, flooding your core as you sigh, your pussy fluttering as he pulls from you, watching his seed leak from your cunt before pushing it back in with two fingers, making sure it all stays in.

He holds you for a moment, letting you regain your composure before gently letting you down, his hand on your waist holding you steady as he removes his jacket, wrapping it around your naked form providing some sort of warmth.

You watch him with heavy lids, your body swaying at you try to stay upright, his stare is softer now as he bends down, his arms snaking under your legs to pick you up, holding you against his chest.

“Did so well love” He presses his forehead to yours, the heat of his body warming your cold limbs, “Let’s go home”.

He maneuvers around carefully, holding you steady as he moves around the trees, his gaze shifting to you every minute to make sure you were okay. He makes it out of the woods in minutes, the warm light of the windows coming into view as your body grows tired.

He carrie’s you into the house, slowly making his way towards the bathroom, setting you down for a moment so he can turn the tap on the bath on, he kneels in front of you, his hands tugging his mask off so you can see him, giving him a weak smile as he gently removes your remaining clothes.

He helps you to stand, walking towards the warm bath, feeling your muscles sooth as you step in, the water washing over your skin. He strips his own clothes, feeling the water rise as he sits behind you, his legs bent beside your frame as you lean back against his chest.

He runs a gentle cloth over your skin, cleaning up any dirt and grime that was on it, carefully cleaning around your core before his arms settle around your stomach, holding you close.

He rests his lips against the crown of your head as you focus on the sound of his breaths, steady behind you, lulling you to sleep as his thumbs trace over your skin.

[blindmagdalena]

Hide and Seek

18+ 6.2k homelander x f!reader. predator/prey, consensual non-consent, dirty talk, cockwarming, outdoor sex, oral sex, there's a lot. check AO3 for full tag list. shout out to @mari-thesimp and @whatevermonkey for the prompts that inspired this fic!

Nothing could have prepared you for the reality of this moment. The chase had sounded like such lighthearted fun in theory. A jaunt through the forest with your superpowered boyfriend never far behind, pursuing you through the woods. Upping the ante by agreeing to do it at night seemed—at the time—like simply removing the training wheels. You were wrong.

The pound of your heart nearly drowns out the sound of branches and woodland debris snapping under foot as you run blindly through the woods, the moon above barely serving illumination through the dense tree canopy. What you hadn’t realized at the start of all this was that your body wouldn’t know the difference between running for your life for fun, and running for your life for real.

A blast as sharp as a gunshot whips by overhead, bowing the trees with the force of it and startling a scream out of you. The startle causes you to lose your footing, and your momentum is too great to catch yourself. You hurdle forwards, rolling end over end into the mess of brambles, landing flat on your back, gasping for breath. You hear the thud of something landing in the distance. You lay there a moment, brain frantically recalibrating while you stare up at the dense tree cover, trying to catch your breath. That’s when a new sound cuts through the ambient sounds of the forest; someone whistling a cheery little melody. Shortly after that, you begin to hear footsteps. “You made it further than I thought you would,” Homelander calls into the night, his chipper tone replacing that jaunty whistle. “But c’mon. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

You scramble to your feet, bracing against a tree to look wildly around yourself. It’s too dark to even make out his silhouette, but what you see instead turns your insides to ice. Maybe twenty feet away, two glowing red eyes cut through the black of the night, peering around until, abruptly, they lock onto you. The glow of them is just enough to illuminate the way Homelander’s lips pull into a sharp smile. “Got’cha.” Immediately, you take off running. There’s no thought behind it, nothing but the pure animalistic panic to escape. He may be the love of your life, but that was terrifying. The dense treeline breaks into a clearing, and you run for the path of least resistance, even as your muscles scream. A small hill near a babbling stream catches your eye, and though every breath you suck back makes your lungs burn, you push yourself to it, desperate for a place to hide. You skid to a stop just beyond the hill, and then hurl yourself back against it, clamping both hands over your mouth, screwing your eyes shut as you desperately try to quiet yourself.

The agreement was that Homelander would not utilize his x-ray vision. Your only hope was that the sound of the stream might mask the thunder of your heart beating in your chest. In this state of flight, you find it impossible to gauge the passage of time. It might be seconds that pass, it might be minutes. You can’t fathom it. Either way, it isn’t long before you begin to hear heavy booted footsteps crunching through the underbrush. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Homelander's voice rings out, that wicked smile audible in his tone. "You can come easy, or you can come hard. You're mine either way." You bite into your own hand, tucking yourself further in against the grassy mound. His words hurl you into a dizzying haze of panic and excitement, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting, unsure if you should be running from or towards the honied voice calling you from the shadows. Abruptly, the sound of footsteps stops, and you are left with nothing but the thrum of your heartbeat, and the burble of the stream.Time passes, but still you hear nothing. Tentatively, you peer out around the edge of the mound, into the clearing where you heard him approaching. Seeing nothing, you cautiously rise to your feet and crane to get a better look. Empty. There isn’t a trace of him anywhere. There’s more light in the clearing, lending a touch to your bravery. You don’t need the cue of his eyes to see him here, but the fact he’s disappeared somewhere into the treeline worries you. You glance down to the river. Perhaps your sound-based subterfuge was successful, and he believes you kept moving forward. You take the opportunity to backtrack, and hopefully throw him off your trail. After all, if you get back to the cabin by yourself, you win this little game.

Not wanting to run the risk of him hearing you, you pick up a modest trot back towards the thicket you had emerged from. Reaching out to brace your hand on a passing tree, you scream when a crimson gloved hand closes suddenly around your wrist, another hand catching you around the waist and yanking you backwards, lifting you clean off your feet, and up into the air with him. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Not so quick. We haven’t even gotten to enjoy the view together yet,” he says, his words warm huffs in your ear, prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. You thrash against him with everything you have in you, but you may as well be pounding against pure steel. He’s unyielding. Homelander drops back down onto the ground, and with unbelievable ease, spins you around to pin your back against the tree. Slotting his thigh between your legs, Homelander lifts you with just that. Effortlessly catching both of your wrists in a single hand, he traps them up above your head. He leans forward, his knee braced against the tree. “There’s my girl,” he purrs, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. Any other day, you would lean into it. The rumble of his voice when he calls you his never fails to make you melt. Right now, however, the two of you are playing a game, and you aren’t going to be the one to ruin it.

You yank your face away from his hand, leaning as far as you can to the side. “Let me go,” you gasp, still thoroughly out of breath. “Mm, nope, no. That… That I don’t think I’ll ever do,” he says, catching your jaw tight between his leather clad fingers, yanking you back to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes, which flare a dim crimson. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.” Homelander kisses you hard, swallowing up the cry you give. You nearly succumb, you almost kiss him back before you remember yourself. Instead, you twist as violently as you can in his grasp, trying anything you can to gain leverage, but nothing works. He has you lifted off your feet, and he’s pressed in too close for you to utilize your legs against him. Meanwhile, he relishes your struggle. You can feel him smiling against your lips, followed by the hot wet press of his tongue. You yield to him only for the opportunity to bite down hard on the appendage. It’s soft beneath your teeth, but it doesn’t give. There’s nothing you could do that would damage him.

Homelander hums a delighted little noise, breaking the kiss. His smile is like that of a wolf, fangs and all. “Now you’re really getting me excited,” he says, punctuating it with a slow grind up between your legs, startling a moan out of you. He lets go of your face in favor of dragging his hand down your body, cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing, making you keen. “I was gonna be a gentleman and take you back to the cabin, but if you’re gonna behave like a fucking animal–” he says, his rich, molasses sweet voice veering into a rough growl as he rips your shirt wide open, exposing your chest to the night chill, “–then I will gladly fuck you in the dirt like one.” Struggling against him only intensifies the friction of his thigh against your pussy, your clit throbbing against firm muscle behind the confines of your pants. You turn your head away as he kisses down your throat, wringing a gasp out of you when he bites down. You feel him chuckle against your skin, dragging his tongue over the stinging mark, his soft hair tickling along your jaw. “So, what’ll it be? You gonna behave for me?” He asks, drawing back to meet your stare. The question makes you ache, worsens the throb of your clit against his thigh. His perfect blonde locks are set askew now, giving him an untamed look. You feel as wild as he appears. Heart thundering in your chest, you make a play without a second thought, and you spit in his face, spattering the corner of his mouth and his cheek.

For a split second, Homelander looks sincerely shocked, his eyes wide. Slowly, he begins to laugh. The sound of it rolls chills all the way down your spine. You’ve never heard him sound this menacing. His tongue darts out to lick away the mess of it from the corner of his mouth. Pulling one of your hands down from above your head, he uses your palm to wipe it clean, turning his face to nuzzle into your hand, despite how you try to close it from him. When he looks at you, his pupils have reduced the blue of his eyes to a thin ring, making his eyes look almost completely black. His sharp grin has turned him wholly into a predator. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, voice pitched low. Faster than you can track, he dips down and hauls you up over his shoulder with ease, that abysmal eagle pauldron digging into your side as he carries you back into the clearing. You ball up your fists and pound on his back with every ounce of strength you have in you, twisting against his grip on your legs, but nothing fazes him. “Scream all you want, sweetheart,” he laughs, giving your ass an indulgent smack. “No one to hear it but me.” Homelander hurls you forward, and though you hit the ground much more gently than you braced for, the motion is no less disorienting. Sprawled on your back, you move to roll over, but a sudden weight on your thigh stops you. You look down and see his muddy red boot pressed firmly there, pinning you. Above, you hear the familiar sound of him unzipping his pants. Once his cock is free, Homelander grips it with a heated sigh, staring down at you through heavily lidded eyes. His lips are parted, and you can see the sharp edges of his canines glinting in the light of the moon. “Look at you, such a fucking mess,” he says, pumping his cock in slow, even slides of his hand. He’s already fully hard, the engorged head of his cock leaking drops of precome with every stroke. You can feel how bad he wants you in the way he watches you, the way his breath hitches. He looks like a wild animal drooling over a fresh cut of meat.

You writhe beneath him, but the weight of his boot alone is more than enough to keep you in place. “Please,” you whine, fighting to keep the desire out of your voice. “Please don’t, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone–” “Ssshhhhh, shhh,” Homelander hushes, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. “I know you won’t.” Reaching out, Homelander bends at the waist and lifts his boot off of you just before he catches a handful of your hair, maneuvering you up onto your knees. The way he handles you is exceedingly gentle. He has no need for rough or forceful movements when his strength can bend steel. You have no choice but to move with him. “I’m gonna give you one chance to redeem yourself, alright?” Holding you steady, Homelander guides you to his cock, arching your head back with his grip in your hair. “Open up, pretty girl,” he croons, the only warning he gives before shoving his cock between your lips, smearing precome along your tongue, all the way to the back of your throat. The salt-sex taste of him is immediately intoxicating, and though you gag at the sudden intrusion, you suck him down without meaning to, reflexively swallowing. “Ffffuck, ah, hah, that’s it. Mmm, such a natural little cockslut. Taste good, sweetheart?” He asks, positively destroying you. He’s never called you anything like that before, but the ease with which he says it now makes it sound like the hundredth time. You want to hear it again. You make a sound that’s close to a moan, pushing your hands against his thighs, digging your nails into the padding of his suit. Letting go of his cock, he cups the side of your face, and picks up a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking your mouth shallowly.

With his thumb, Homelander caresses your lips, following the line of them where they stretch wide around his dick. He’s entranced by you, watching with endless intensity. Your jaw is slack, drool coating his cock as he fucks your mouth. “Ohhh, fuck. Fuck, look at you. Wanted it all along, didn’t you? I can smell your pussy, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me.” He fucks deeper, and you stifle the gag this time. Your eyes well with tears that collect on your lashes, weighing them down against your cheeks. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels so good, you lose yourself briefly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be putting up a fight. This time, you let yourself gag when he pushes in deep, and you try to pull off of him, fighting back against the hand he’d flattened at the back of your skull. “No, no, sshh, not yet. Almost there,” he says, tightening his grip in your hair, his voice fraying as he begins to come apart. He starts thrusting faster, adjusting his hands to hold either side of your head, using you so thoroughly that you feel like a fucking toy in his hands. Your breaths become shallower, short little gasps between the frenzied snaps of his hips. “Aaalmost there. That’s it, take it, taking it so fuckin’ good. Knew you could, baby.” Between the praise and lack of air, you’re starting to feel lightheaded. You’re not fighting against him anymore, but instead gripping his thighs for dear life, eyes rolling back into your skull. You feel like you’re floating in and out of your physical body, barely tethered to reality.

Homelander comes with a choked-off noise, shoving you all the way down onto his cock. You don’t even taste the come, you just feel the heavy pulses of his cock against your tongue, the heat of it sliding down your throat, warming you from the inside out. Just when you’re starting to feel like you might pass out, Homelander pulls out of your mouth, holding you as you cough wetly. You gulp down breath after breath, gradually coming down from your delirium. Homelander strokes your hair through it, breathing heavily through his own aftershocks. “Now there’s a redemption arc,” he says through a breathy little chuckle. He lets go of your hair so that he can tuck himself loosely back into his pants. Before you can get any ideas, Homelander knocks you backwards, visibly pleased by the easy way you sprawl out on your back, still dazed. Crouching down, he gets a good grip on the hips of your pants, and with a swift outward pull on either side, rips them clean apart, along with your underwear, leaving just the scraps of them hanging off your thighs, fully exposing your pelvis. Inhaling deeply, Homelander’s smile is downright predatory. “My turn,” he says, hooking your legs up over his shoulders, leaving just your upper back touching the ground below. He takes hold of your hips, and lifts you up to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he moans like a man mad with hunger as he drags his tongue through the slick mess of your cunt, closing his lips around your clit.

You arch your back with a cry, pushing into the wet heat of his mouth. He’s ruthless in the way he feasts on you, plunging his tongue into you and lapping up every drop he can coax out. When he’s gotten all he can, he goes back up to your clit and sucks, swirling his tongue over it, reducing you to a whimpering mess. He laps at your clit until there’s more sweet slick for him to drink up from your pussy, fucking you with his tongue, demanding more. Homelander gets his wish when you come, an explosion of pleasure that radiates through your entire body. Your thighs lock up on either side of his head, squeezing him tight, but all he cares about is the rush of your release that spills down his chin, wetting him so thoroughly the excess drips onto the ground below. He swallows every drop that he can. He groans with it, licking eagerly between the quivering lips of your cunt. Your orgasms have always driven him insane, the flood of endorphins making you taste fucking exquisite. Suddenly the ground falls out beneath you as Homelander stands up, leaving you hanging in his grasp as he devours you, your moans of pleasure rapidly dissolving into broken sobs, overwhelmed with sensation. “S-stop,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his wrists. “Too much, please, it’s too much.”

Homelander’s only response is a rough little shake of his head, nuzzling into your pussy, lapping up the aftermath of your orgasm and rapidly hurdling you hot and heavy towards another one, your hips convulsing against him entirely of their own accord. “Please, oh god, please stop!” You cry, voice raw. You hang helplessly in his grip, squirming with nowhere to go. He’s got you dangling precariously on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, the sensations so intense that they almost burn. “S-stop! It’s too much! Please!” You have a safe word, you and he both know you could save yourself if you wanted to, but the reality is that you don’t. It feels good to beg for what you know he will not give you. You’re starting to feel dizzy, hanging upside down, gasping for breath as he continues to gorge himself on you. He drags his tongue up and down, drawing deft figure eights before sucking your clit, pressing his tongue firmly to it. You come again, and this time the experience is so overwhelming, you scream.

Falling limp, all you can muster are weak, oversensitized noises. Your body spasms involuntarily while Homelander licks you through the aftermath of your orgasm, milking every last drop of it. He finishes with a refreshed, wet exhale, audibly licking his lips of the mess while you dangle in his grasp. Gingerly, he lowers you back down onto the grassy forest floor, slipping out from between your legs to loom over you. Your brain is so addled, it takes you ages to realize that he’s kissing you, licking your own flavor into your mouth. You whimper when you feel his ungloved fingers brush your overstimulated cunt, the contact making you jolt. He clicks his tongue softly. “Look what you did,” he murmurs between kisses, plunging his fingers into you, despite your weak protest. You’re so wet, the slide of them is a frictionless ache. You whine into the press of his lips. “You went and got me hard again,” he sighs, as if you’ve inconvenienced him. “Now I have to fuck your pretty pussy.”

Homelander’s fingers pump in and out of you, the sound of it obscene and wet. Your breath hitches, and you try to protest, but his gloved hand falls over your lips, silencing you.

“Shhh, shh. Save it, sweetheart. Save it for my cock.” His fingers sink in deep, and your lashes flutter, eyes nearly rolling back into your skull. Already, you’re aching to feel him deeper. All you can do is whimper into the warm leather of his glove, squirming under the weight of his hold while his fingers work you open. While it’s a reprieve for your thoroughly used clit, the expert way he crooks his fingers inside you already has you fighting the climb of another orgasm. So much so that when he slips his fingers out, you whine, the sound of it bordering on a sob. Nothing happens for the next couple of seconds. Uncertain, you open your eyes, and find Homelander staring down at you. There is a slight tenseness to his expression, an expectation you can see in his gaze as you meet it. His hand is still over your mouth, but his other hand has settled on your thigh, thumb stroking your bare skin in minute movements. You can see the question written in his eyes clear as day; You okay?

The way he looks at you settles something warm deep in your core, chasing the night chill and leaving only the heat between your bodies. You break character for just a second, and give him a slight nod. In an instant, Homelander flips like a switch back into a stranger, the change subtle and yet glaringly obvious to you. You gasp when he pulls his hand from your mouth to flip you over, the smell of fresh grass pungent as he pushes your head down, lifting your ass up into the air. “That’s better,” he purrs, effortlessly slipping back into character. The cold, dangerous edge to his tone makes your stomach clench in a giddy blend of anxiety and excitement. With one hand braced on the back of your head, Homelander grips his cock in the other, and guides it to the soaked, velvety lips of your pussy. He drags the head of his cock up and down, smearing it through the wet mix of his saliva and your own slick. You jerk involuntarily when he rubs it against your sensitive clit, whimpering.

You feel overworked, but Homelander has made it clear he’s only just getting started. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on the thick head of his cock, moaning a low cuss under his breath. His powers protect him from pain, but not pleasure, and you’re not the only one affected by the aftermath of your release. Regardless, he moves his bare hand to your hip, and holds you steady as he sinks the rest of the way into you in one slow, agonizingly good slide, finally reaching that aching itch deep inside you. “Nnnngh, please,” you moan, screwing your eyes tightly shut. “Please what?” Homelander prompts, giving a deep little thrust that startles another pitchy sound out of you. “Go on, beg for it. I want to hear you beg for my cock like a good little slut,” he says, the low snarl of his voice–his words–paired with the heat and weight of him inside you making you delirious. He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, the wet slide of his fingers making you cry out, writhing against him. He rocks you back on his cock, fucking right into your cervix. “No sense denying it now. So goddamn wet for me. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a cheap whore. Beg. Beg me to fuck you stupid.”

Whatever few strands you had left tethering you snap. The degradation, the truth in his words, the transcendent agony of pleasure taken too far all tip you over the edge of sanity and reason. Shame and arousal burn you in equal measure. “Please fuck me stupid,” you obediently beg, tears gathering in your eyes not from pain, but sheer overwhelm. You barely get the words out. Homelander starts to fuck you in earnest, groaning at your plea, at the complete crumble of your resolve. “Use me.” The noise Homelander makes at that is animalistic, caught somewhere between a groan and a growl. He shifts his hand from your head to your shoulder and grips tight, gloved fingers biting into the meat of you as he yanks you back onto his cock, picking up a relentless rhythm that punches the air right out of your lungs with every snap of his hips. All the while, his fingers grind against your clit with every thrust, surging you up towards the release previously abandoned.

“Fuck,” Homelander rasps, practically trembling with restraint. Despite the brutal way he’s fucking you, you know it’s nothing compared to what he could do. You can feel pressure building rapidly between your thighs, each thrust like the strike of a match inside you, igniting more and more heat. You can’t move, pinned between his hand on your shoulder and the crack of his hips against your ass. All you can do is endure him as your orgasm builds, whatever scarce breaths you can manage to inhale leave you as sharp little whimpers. “Don’t fight it. Feels good, I know it does. You’re taking me so good. Fucking made for me. C’mon, do it. Let me feel you come on my cock.” Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice as wave after wave of mind blowing pleasure rolls through you. You hear Homelander give a choked off noise as he fucks you through it, your cunt seizing around him so tightly it catches him off guard. He doesn’t stop, instead moving faster, reducing you to a keening mess, limp in the grass. He uses you until on a final thrust, you feel him still, followed by a rush of heat so intense it nearly feels a burn inside you. Your whole body shudders, and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all.

Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of Homelander pressed against your back, sinking down against you, grounds you. You whisper the safeword you’ve been diligently holding onto, and just like that, the game is over. Homelander pushes a hand through your hair, kissing a trail from your neck to your ear, gently adjusting your head on the ground. He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, bent over you, the wet weight of his cock still buried deep and warm inside you. He’s panting softly in your ear between kisses, the breaths catching every so often, still reeling from his own release.

Tenderly, he lifts off of you, and withdraws from inside you, hissing a soft breath as he does. The mess he left inside you trails hot, wet streaks down your thighs. You wince at the loss of him, nearly collapse without his hands on you, but he holds you steady with a hand on your hip while he adjusts himself.

You’re practically dead weight as he rolls you over, hovering over you with a hand in the grass, next to your head. You smile up at him, lazy and still dazed. He returns it, the corners of his eyes crinkling generously as he strokes your cheek with his bare knuckles, analyzing your expression. “Was I good?” He asks, the tone of his voice leagues and miles away from what it had been. He sounds tentative now, curious, a little hopeful. “Good?” You echo, borderline offended he would use such a meager word to explain the most intense sexual experience of your life. “That was… you were… amazing,” you tell him breathlessly, mustering the strength to push a hand into his mussed hair, your lids feeling heavy as you blink. “I can’t feel my legs, and I think you bruised my cervix,” you admit, to which he looks sheepish, but you continue, “And I’ve never felt more incredible in my life.”

Homelander visibly preens at that, his eyes narrowing, lips curving into a small smile. He leans in to nuzzle at your neck, inhaling deeply. You offer a few more strokes through his hair, but the muscles in your arm protest enough that you drape it over his neck instead, sighing. He takes that as his cue to scoop you up into his arms, your limbs dangling like cooked noodles. He floats to his feet, settling back down on the ground with you nestled snug against his chest. “C’mon,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” ~~~~~~ Back at the cabin, Homelander is quick to start a hot bath running. The only garment of yours to survive was your bra, but even then, you and it are thoroughly grass strained. Homelander helps you sink into the oversized jacuzzi bath, chuckling at the exaggerated moan you give as the heat washes over you. It feels like heaven on your aching legs. The water sloshes to and fro as Homelander joins you, sliding up to you right away. Baths have always been both of your preferred methods of aftercare, where you can recover from his strength and he can luxuriate in this intimate form of pampering. Automatically, Homelander pulls you in to straddle his lap, the water making you both feel weightless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you go about wetting his hair, massaging his scalp. He moans when you begin to work in the shampoo next, dragging your nails all the way down to the back of his neck. He’s much leaner without the suit. You sweep your hands down his shoulders, following the trail of wiry muscle to his back. His body relaxes gradually beneath your touch, breathy little sighs escaping him. He makes you feel like you’re playing an instrument, and you know precisely where to touch to draw out the right note. Neither of you speak much during the bath. Your limbs are heavy, muscles tired, and the narrow space between your bodies feels too quiet and intimate for words.

You take your time conditioning his hair, and he wrings soft moans from you when he massages wash into your shoulders, mindful of how they ache. He’s deft with his hands, impeccably aware of his strength. It thrills you a little every time you remember how different he was in the woods, how wild and brutal he had felt. Once you’re both clean and satisfied, the bed calls your name as hypnotically as any siren. You’re the first to slip under the covers, immediately relieved to be off of your feet, your legs still shaky. Homelander follows shortly after. He’s always been clingy, but tonight especially, he’s practically glued to you. When he slides into bed, he doesn’t cuddle in next to you, but instead lays himself over you, nestling between your legs so that he can rest his head on your chest. You smile down at him. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” he rumbles, moving his hand to rest near his face, just over the beat of your heart.

Silence hangs heavily in the air. Sensing there’s more to it, you press, “Do you want to talk about tonight?”

Homelander is quiet for a moment longer. “You were scared.”

“Being chased was scary, yes,” you admit, combing your fingers through his hair. “That was the intention, though.”

“Were you scared of me?”

You pause. There’s something vulnerable in his voice—anxiety, perhaps—that he’s halfheartedly trying to mask, but you see through it. You give yourself time, wanting to answer the question with the thought it deserves, but Homelander doesn’t take the silence well. He lifts his head to scrutinize your expression, brows pinched. “You were scared of me.”

“You scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of you,” you correct him, settling your hand over top of his. “I liked it. In the same way I like movies that make me scream, or roller coasters. You scared me, and I loved it,” you say, bringing up both hands to cup his face, emphasizing your words by pulling him into a kiss. He moves easily, pushing into the kiss, needy for the assurance you offer. Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you ask him, “Did you like it?”

Homelander licks his lips, sliding his arm under you as he settles back in against your chest. “Yeah. It was… fun. Raw. I didn’t know you could act like that. Might have to get you a role in Vought’s next production,” he says, giving your collarbone a playful little nuzzle. “No thanks, I’d rather be waterboarded,” you reply with a laugh, earning a low chuckle from him. You stroke him from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his neck, and then back up. “I’m glad you had fun. I know that I was asking a lot of you with it.” He’s quiet for a moment, head resting heavy on your chest. He rubs his cheek against your skin. “I really liked it. But if it goes too far, and you see something in me that you don’t like, and I see you scared of me, even when we’re not playing, it…” the sentence trails off. You feel his grip around you tighten reflexively, and you can only imagine what awful scenario he’s playing in his mind. “John,” you call gently, though your tone is firm, catching his attention immediately. He tips his head back to look up at you. “I promise you, there is nothing you would do to me that could change the way I feel about you. I love you. I worship you, John. That’s what love means to me. Reverence. You didn’t want to hurt me tonight, did you?”

“No,” he answers quickly, enraptured by you, by your words. “But I did.” “Only as much as I asked you to,” you soothe, stroking along the side of his face. “You would have stopped if I said the word, right?” Homelander nods, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You checked in on me, too. If anything, all tonight did was show me how much I don’t need to be afraid of you.”

Looking at you, there is a magnitude of emotion in Homelander’s eyes that is difficult to put into words. You realize immediately just how badly he needed to hear every word you’ve said. He has always thrived on your words, on your loving deeds, but tonight they scrape him particularly raw. There are times when you think the depths of his need for you scares even him. Homelander kisses a path from your collarbone to the space between your breasts, slow, deeply affectionate. Where you most easily show your worship in words, he shows his in touch. He strokes a hand down your side, to your outer thigh, squeezing it against him, like he simply cannot be close enough. “Come here,” you murmur, nudging him with your leg. “Let me warm you.” Homelander glances up at that, his lips twitching in a small, pleased smile. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirm, encouraging him with another little nudge. Of all the tricks you’ve introduced him to, this has been his favorite by far. Licking his lips eagerly, Homelander shifts, lifting himself to grab the lube from the bedside table, dispensing enough to slick his cock up. He uses what remains on his fingers in you, sliding his slick fingers into you with ease, earning a sharp little inhale from you before you relax into it. Once you’re properly wetted, he carefully slides his cock into you, less than half hard, but that isn’t the intent. Though you’re still tender, once he settles against you, the fervid weight of him inside feels divine. Having him inside always feels as though you are kindling a live flame within you.

“Mm, that’s it. Feel good?” You ask, kissing his forehead. Homelander nods, slotted against you as perfectly as a matching jigsaw piece. He turns his head to kiss your breast, transitioning quickly from that to closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking gently. You flex your grip in his hair, sighing in pleasure. “I still need to rest, you know. We can’t all have super stamina,” you remind him with an amused little smile.

“So rest,” he says dismissively, gaze flickering up to meet yours. He kisses your breast reverently before placing his head back down, staring up at you with such utter contentment, you feel the  warmth of it to your core. “I can be patient.” In other words, he’ll wait as long as he can before the temptation grows too great. The thought of waking to him taking advantage of you like that broils a little fire of your own in your gut, and you laugh softly, nodding. “Okay. Wake me in a few hours. Be creative,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. Homelander’s lips curl deviously. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Eventually, your exhaustion wins over the giddiness of what’s to come. Homelander is a comforting weight against you, the heat of him chasing any and all chill from you, and you drift into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever known.

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Ao3

[Warning for references to sexual situations towards the end, but there is nothing explicit]

-

“So now do I get to know where we’re going?”

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ are you having trouble grasping?”

“The part where we’re driving around in the suburbs in your van on a Saturday night,” Steve shoots a pointed look at Eddie, not without amusement. “I feel like we’re going to end up at some high school party drinking rocket fuel out of Solo cups while you deal out of one of the back bedrooms.”

“Shit, yeah, let’s relive those glory days,” Eddie says drily, then smacks the steering wheel with one palm in emphasis. “No! I am taking you somewhere much better. And we’re almost there, so stop trying to interrogate me. We both know I crack like an egg under pressure.”

Steve holds both his hands up in front of him, brows raised, the very picture of innocence, as though he hasn’t been trying to pump Eddie for information since he picked him up at his house some fifteen minutes ago.

And Eddie really does want it to be a surprise – he thinks he did pretty well, planning this whole thing out. The effort, at first, had simply been placed on coming up with something he’d thought Steve would like—something surprising and romantic and thoughtful—but the further he’d gotten into it, the more he’d found himself enjoying it, too. He’s never actually been on a proper date, much less planned one, and finding all the little touches that would make this one perfect has actually been fun. Eddie’s looking forward to it.

He only hopes his work will pay off.

He navigates the van around one more turn, past a few more unremarkable cookie cutter houses, and pulls to a stop in front of the barrier rail of a dead-end street, entirely ignoring the raised-eyebrow look of intense curiosity that Steve is sending his way.

The thing about Midwestern suburbia is that it sprawls. There are rambling neighborhoods upon rambling neighborhoods, all with kitschy names like “Maple Ridge” and “Eagle Pointe,” and the city planners seem to forget half of what they’ve built as soon as it’s up. Apart from making things confusing to navigate (Oakview Street runs through three different residential areas, for instance, stopping and picking up again at different points throughout town), it’s created isolated pockets of parks and playgrounds, set aside behind back streets and largely unknown to anyone more than a block away – unless they happen to be restless explorers, like Eddie.

“So… are we gonna hang out here tonight?” Steve asks, glancing around at the neighborhood falling into the darkness of the rapidly encroaching dusk.

“Yes, Steve, we’re gonna have a picnic in my van on the back end of Washington Drive,” Eddie drawls.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me where we were going.” Steve shrugs, smirking over at Eddie. “I figured maybe you were embarrassed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes his door open. “C’mon, Harrington, we’re almost there.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Steve says, though he obediently gets out of the van and rounds to the back, where Eddie is digging for his supplies.

“Well, now it’s an even smaller almost,” Eddie says.

He pulls his backpack from the back of the van, followed by an insulated bag he’d bummed off of Oliver and the tiny cooler that Wayne takes with him when he goes fishing, draping it all over himself like an awkward sort of packmule and waving Steve off when he tries—twice—to reach for one of the bags to help.

“Okay, fine,” Steve finally says, shaking his head. “Lead the way, Mr. Park Ranger.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sniffs, gesturing for Steve to follow him off the street and onto a narrow dirt path that cuts through the thin strip of woods in front of them.

It’s barely a minute’s walk before the path spits them out into a tiny clearing housing a minuscule park. Eddie disregards the neglected jungle gym and the decrepit grill and zeroes in on the reason he’d brought them out here: the gazebo.

“So I’m gonna need just a little more faith from you,” he tells Steve, “and you need to turn around for about a minute.”

The expression on Steve’s face is a familiar one, recognizable even in the fading light as “deciding whether or not to make the bitchy comment,” but finally he simply shrugs and turns around.

“Sure, why not,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie shakes his head, biting down on a smile as he bounds up the two steps into the little gazebo and sets his load down. The thing is in surprisingly good condition, all told; the structure is solid, the picnic table inside is relatively clean, and there is a minimal number of dicks and swearwords graffitied around the inside (barely noticeable in the dark, even!). Glancing back to make sure Steve is still facing away, Eddie makes quick work of unpacking his bags.

The candles come out first, a whole slew of the inexpensive white ones that come in jars, picked up from the dollar store, and he dots them around the gazebo railings and across the picnic table, lighting them with the cigarette lighter from his pocket until the space is warm and glowing. The insulated bag is next, providing two foil-wrapped plates of spaghetti that is—thank you, Oliver—still warm. Last is the cooler, which provides two beers. He’s just pulling napkins and forks from his backpack when he hears Steve calling out from where he’s left him standing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s been more than a minute.”

“You’re so impatient,” Eddie shoots back, taking the steps at a leap and jogging back across the grass to Steve. “But I’m done, anyway, so you can turn around.”

Steve does so, his focus going first to Eddie, before his attention is caught by the glow of the gazebo behind him. Eddie can see his eyes go wide in the candlelight, startled first, and then pleased, accompanied by a slow-growing smile.

“Eddie, this is…” he leaves off with a tiny laugh, like he doesn’t quite have a word for it, but whatever he thinks it is, it’s good.

Eddie shrugs. “I know we can’t exactly go out to a restaurant and have a real date, but I promised you candlelight,” he says. “I’m afraid the violinist was booked, though.”

Shaking his head, Steve lets out another little laugh, and then takes a step towards the gazebo and glances back at Eddie.

“C’mon, yeah, let’s eat. Can’t have everything getting cold!” Eddie gestures Steve up the steps and waves his arm grandly towards one of the plates. “I’d pull your chair out for you, but it appears to be attached to the table.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Steve says, swinging one leg over the bench, then the other, and settling himself down. He waits for Eddie to follow suit before picking up his fork and then – just staring down at his plate for a moment. “Is this…” he starts uncertainly.

“It’s the spaghetti sauce you showed me how to make,” Eddie fills in. “Since you were convinced I’d perish trying to subsist on frozen pizza if you weren’t there to force meals on me.”

Eddie hadn’t done much cooking prior to befriending Steve; he could boil water and scramble an egg, but his ability and interest had mostly ended there. Then Steve had come along, earnestly (and transparently) bringing “leftovers” to the trailer to share with Eddie and Wayne, before he progressively took over their kitchen. Absolutely no one had had any complaints about this arrangement, though Steve had insisted on teaching Eddie how to make a few basic staples for himself – among which had been spaghetti sauce.

For a long moment, Steve says nothing, continuing to stare at his plate, brows furrowed.

“…and I haven’t,” Eddie says, trying to break the silence. “Perished, that is. In your absence. Obviously. Not that– not that I think you were really worrying about that, I just mean I’ve been making some of the stuff you showed me. Is all.”

“I’m just… kind of surprised you remembered, I guess,” Steve says, glancing up at Eddie, expression unreadable in the flickering light around them. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually interested or if you were just humoring me, when I showed you all that stuff.”

“I still have all the recipes you have me,” Eddie says – and he does: a small stack of notecards that Steve had stolen from Robin and covered in his surprisingly neat handwriting, detailing things like when to add butter to this and how much garlic to add to that, which has a permanent home in a drawer in Eddie’s kitchen.

“Oh,” Steve says, and nothing more.

“But don’t leave me in suspense, tell me how I did,” Eddie insists, attempting to push past the awkwardness he’d brought upon them while simultaneously shoving his mouth full of pasta in order to keep from pulling out any new touchy topics.

Steve twirls up a forkful of spaghetti and brings it to his mouth, spending a long moment chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and swallows. “I mean, I’ve had better,” he says with a shrug, and Eddie experiences a moment of genuine distress before he spots the smirk tugging at Steve’s lips.

Eddie kicks at him under the table and Steve laughs, and Eddie can’t help but join him.

“Don’t be shy, baby, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie drawls, and Steve snickers again.

“Trust me, I will,” he says. But then: “It’s good, Eddie. You did good.”

Knocked off balance by the casual sincerity, Eddie goes quiet, and they eat for a few minutes in silence.

“So,” Eddie finally says, “I’m sure this is a great shock to you, but I’ve never actually done this before.”

Steve glances up at him. “Eaten spaghetti in a gazebo?” he asks, so dry that even Eddie’s not quite sure if he’s being sarcastic.

“The dating thing,” Eddie clarifies, instead of trying to figure it out. “What exactly are you supposed to do on a first date?”

Something about Steve’s expression goes off again – that same, weird, false look he’d had the other day that Eddie hadn’t been able to ferret out the source of. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Steve shrugs, taking a quick pull from his beer.

“I guess it’s usually the getting-to-know-you stuff. Favorite movie, what kind of music you listen to, hobbies – that sort of thing,” he says.

“Huh.” Eddie screws his mouth to the side, thinking it over. “Seems… kinda boring. But, if you insist!” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands and batting his eyelashes at Steve. “So, tell me about yourself, handsome.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that’s what you have to do. I’m pretty sure dates are just supposed to be… you know, being with someone you like. Putting aside time just to do something with them,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it is, you have a good time because you’re doing it together.”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, his humor fading beneath a bright flare of fondness. “That– that sounds better, yeah.”

“I think so, too,” Steve says, smiling across the table at Eddie.

“Well, then.” Eddie takes a chance and slowly slides his hand forwards until it’s resting over Steve’s on top of the table, inwardly doing a little dance when Steve remains relaxed beneath his touch. “Under those parameters, do you think we’re having a successful first date?”

And that’s when Steve pulls back, drawing his hand from beneath Eddie’s and averting his gaze, shrugging shoulders that have gone tense. “Sure, yeah.” He glances back up and offers a smile that’s trying very hard to be sincere but is underscored by something Eddie still can’t put his finger on. “Seriously, this is really nice, Eddie.”

“What am I saying?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Steve’s brows draw together in confusion.

“I keep saying something that’s upsetting you and I can’t– like, I can’t figure out what it is,” Eddie admits. “But I don’t want to keep doing it.”

“I’m not upset,” Steve says, bristling slightly under the skeptical look Eddie sends him. “I’m not. I’m– it’s stupid, alright? I’m fine.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says, and Steve scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Well then tell me.”

Frowning, Steve looks back down at his plate, pushing the last few strands of spaghetti around with his fork. “It’s – seriously, it’s dumb. Like, I know that, alright? It’s just that you keep calling this our first date and I guess… I thought of something else as our first date. That’s all.”

Oh, fuck.

Eddie is an idiot. Fuck.

Of course Steve thinks of something else as their first date. He’d thought they were dating, so of course he’d thought of their outings as dates. Dinners, the movies, aimless walks around town – time set aside to be with someone you like, to just do something together. And here Eddie is again, shoving how little he’d thought of those times in Steve’s face.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I told you, I know it’s ridiculous–”

“It’s not.”

“–and I don’t have to get all hung up over it. It wasn’t even a date if we didn’t both think of it that way, right? So we can just look at this as– like, take two.”

Eddie purses his lips. “Even if we didn’t both think of it as a date, it was important to you.”

Steve shrugs and then, steady and deliberate, puts his hand over Eddie’s, curling his fingers around Eddie’s palm. “Well, tonight can be important to both of us,” he says, offering Eddie a small smile. “And I don’t want to ruin it. I really am having a good time.”

The only reason Eddie can imagine that he would be even remotely this lucky is if the universe is trying to make up for the debacle that was last spring (but then again, seen in the reverse, he can’t imagine why the universe would be inflicting him on Steve; he’ll have to keep thinking on that one). And on the one hand, he’s determined not to waste this opportunity – neither Steve’s good will nor his second chance. But on the other hand–

He can’t not ask.

Shifting his hand a little so he can wrap his fingers around Steve’s, Eddie takes a breath and bites the bullet. “Okay, but what… were you thinking of as our first date?”

For a long minute, Steve says nothing, and Eddie tries not to panic, tries not to assume that he’s just ruined everything by admitting he doesn’t even know which instance Steve is talking about, and mostly fails. But then Steve takes a breath and shakes his head.

“It’s… kinda stu–”

“Don’t say it,” Eddie cuts in sharply, warning, before he can stop himself. “I’m sure it’s not. Tell me about it.”

Steve shoots Eddie a chagrined kind of smile before turning his eyes to the surface of the table. “It was at the diner,” he says, and Eddie only just holds himself back from asking which time, because they’ve gone to the tiny diner off the side of the road near Forest Hills together more times than he can count; it’s within walking distance of Eddie’s place, and it tends to be their go-to when they want to go out but have no particular destination in mind. “It was that first night. The first time we kissed.”

It hits Eddie like a jab to the sternum that Steve chooses to phrase it that way: the first time they kissed. Because if Eddie remembers one thing for certain, it’s that the first night they kissed had also been the first night they’d had sex – and yet it’s the kiss that Steve focuses on. It’s the kiss that had been important to him.

“I guess there wasn’t anything that special about that night. Nothing different. We just had fun,” Steve says quietly. “Pretty sure we drove everyone else crazy fighting over the jukebox, especially since most of the songs in there suck, anyway, and you were telling me about what happened during your last game and you tried to draw it on a napkin with ketchup and a toothpick, which… did not turn out well, and you kept stealing fries off my plate–”

“Because you kept dipping them in your milkshake and I was telling you that it was gross!” Eddie remembers.

“Of course, that part stands out to you,” Steve grouses, though there’s a bit of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Hey, you made a believer out of me. Fries and vanilla shake, I have to admit it’s good,” Eddie says, and Steve’s smile grows a little more.

“But, yeah, like I said, it wasn’t… special, I guess, I just remember thinking that I wanted to do that with you all the time. I wanted to do everything with you all the time, whatever it was,” Steve says. “And then when we were back in your room, sitting on your bed, you were looking at me like– I thought you wanted to–”

“I did,” Eddie says quickly. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to kiss me. I don’t know, I was – kinda turned around about it, but I knew I was glad that you did it first, because I was too chickenshit to ever do it myself.”

Eddie remembers this part clearly; something had seemed different about Steve when they’d gotten back from the diner. There had been something softer and lighter about him that had made Eddie want to reach out and touch – an urge he wasn’t unfamiliar with. He is, after all, queer as hell, and—though he feels like an ass for phrasing it this way, now—Steve is really hot. Of course he’d had thoughts about Steve before; he just tended to ignore them, because they were friends, and the thought that anything more could happen between them seemed outlandish.

But then Steve had leaned in and kissed him.

The first one had been close-mouthed and soft, almost tentative, sweet, but ensuing kisses had been deeper, more wanton, and before Eddie had quite registered the shift, Steve was in his lap and his tongue was practically down Steve’s throat and he’d thought – well, maybe there could be a little more between them. Maybe things didn’t have to change all that much.

He'd rolled with it, and then he’d rolled them over, and then he’d helped Steve get rid of his shirt and he’d ditched his own, and then he’d begun the process of learning how to wring as many sweet, pleasured noises as possible out of Steve.

Now, back at the picnic table in the fluttering light of nearly a dozen cheap candles, Steve is looking at Eddie oddly, like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.

“Well… since I had kind of been looking at that night as when we, uh– got together, I just – yeah, made sense to me. First date.” Steve shrugs.

A frown pulls across Eddie’s face, and he fights to keep it at bay, so he doesn’t give Steve the wrong impression – he’s not upset with Steve, he’s just upset. He’s upset that he can’t look at that night the same way Steve had – that he hadn’t experienced it the same way. He wishes he had; that he’d let himself consider what it might be like not if he and Steve could be friends and have sex, but if he and Steve could be more than that.

He squeezes Steve’s fingers, still wrapped in his own, and catches Steve’s eye when he looks up. “You know… I mean, I know that not all of the time we spent together has the same significance for me that it did for you, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s all he can say for himself, but at least it’s true. “I love spending time with you. Even when I’m complaining, I’m doing it with joy.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. “With joy?”

“Yep. Entirely joyful complaining,” Eddie says seriously.

“Well, you do like complaining.” Steve smirks.

“I sure the fuck do. It’s what makes us such a good pair,” Eddie replies, and Steve laughs.

They talk for a while longer after that, lighter and easier than before, but eventually it gets too chilly to reasonably keep sitting around. They’d been blessed with unusually mild weather that night, but late October is still late October, and the temperature has dropped since the sun’s gone down.

They work together to blow out all the candles before they end up dropping them in a nearby garbage can once they realize that the wax is still liquid and Eddie can’t put them back in his bag (“Okay, I thought of almost everything,” Eddie insists as he produces a flashlight to light their way back to the van). Eddie turns up the heat before pulling back out into the road, and they take the drive back to Steve’s house in contented silence.

Eddie parks and turns the van off once they’re in the driveway, and Steve watches with curiosity as Eddie gets out with him, but says nothing as they walk up to the front door together.

“Well,” Eddie says once they reach the porch, “I had a great time tonight. D’you think I can see you again?”

Steve blinks at him, doing almost a doubletake as he looks from Eddie to his door and then back again.

“Do you– You don’t want to come in?” Steve asks, a little bewildered.

“Oh, no, I very much do,” Eddie assures him. “But this is take two, right? And I said I was gonna do it right, and that means no sex until the third date. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the rule.”

Steve laughs, but quickly quiets when all Eddie does is smile at him. “You’re serious,” he says, a bit flat with disbelief.

“Completely.” Eddie nods. “I’m romancing you, remember?”

There’s another moment of quiet stillness from Steve before a slow, delighted grin begins to grow on his face. “Well, in that case…” he says, “I had a great time, too.” He leans in and pecks a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, short and almost shy. “Call me.”

And then he’s gone, the front door closing behind him before Eddie can even register what’s happened.

Eddie barely even remembers getting back into the van, but if he had to guess, he’d say he probably floated there.

It should be ridiculous – he’s had Steve’s mouth on pretty much every part of him, he’s had Steve on top of him and underneath him and crying out his name and begging him for more, he’s had Steve naked and sated and curled around him, and yet it’s one short kiss that nearly short-circuits him.

It should be ridiculous, but Eddie thinks it might actually be the best thing in the world.

Part 8

-

Tag List (Currently full! Drop me a line if you want off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/platonic!OT7

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 [Part 1: Rain]

There's something strange about Jungkook.

Main tags/Warnings: Werewolf!Jungkook, Werewolf!Bangtan, strangers/enemies to lovers, romantic Jungkook x reader, Platonic bangtan x reader, eventual smut, mentions of past emotional/psychological manipulation, hurt and comfort, fluff!, some wariness from MCs side

Length: x Words (will be added later)

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

🌲── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ─🐺─ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🌲

"Here-" Jungkook offers, having taken off his zip hoodie for you to hold over your head. "-so you don't get wet." He smiles, and you take it after a moment of contemplation.

It's only after, when you walk after him through the woods, that you notice the full, partially colored tattoos covering almost every inch of skin of his arm, probably even up his shoulder- some ink found on the back of his hand, too. "Careful!" He suddenly says, reaching out to hold you- just in time, because during your blatant staring at his exposed skin, you'd failed to notice the large tree root sticking out from the ground. "You okay?" He asks, and you're stuck in place for a second-

Oddly mesmerized by his golden eyes looking at you from such little distance.

But it doesn't take long for you to snap out of it and nod, before you step over the root, quietly urging him with another nod to continue walking- something he does, but not without looking at you with something almost like suspicion. The rain isn't letting up- rather intensifying now, as he picks up his steps to get through the woods at a faster pace, your hand subconsciously reaching out to grab onto the back of his shirt to keep up- something he notices, as he smiles and reaches out his hand for you to hold. "We're almost there, promise." He tells you, and you nod, trusting him-

and he stays true to his word.

Because not even a few minutes later, there's an actual path now- not man-made, but trampled down from generations of animals and people alike it looks like taking the same route. It leads you both to a more open space, wooden cabins in varying sizes built long ago from the visuals of them, lights turned on in the largest of them. A door opens- multiple people are seen, one waving, before more seem to try and get a glimpse of who Jungkook is bringing along.

"They're really nice. Some of them can be a bit intimidating, but I promise you they're completely harmless." Jungkook reassures you as he notices the way you slow down now, and you nod, a drop of water falling from your nose. You've got no idea where you are at this point, so you can't do much other than trust him, for now.

Even though you're incredibly nervous at the prospect of being in the same house as an entire pack of wolves.

Someone seems to break up the people squeezing together to catch a glimpse of you, leaving only two in front of the house, door now closed. "Hello." One of them says- friendly, but not inviting. "Jungkook?" He asks, and the wolf next to you sends you a reassuring smile, before he talks, and explains to who you assume must be his packleader.

"I didn't know you were back already." Jungkook says, hugging him in a greeting for a second, before he steps back to stand next to you again, telling the young man your name. "She was just kind of.. having a picnic near the entrance path when it started pouring. And she's here without a ride or anything, so I offered her to stay until it clears up maybe." He explains.

"My name's Namjoon. I'm the packleader here- have you told your pack yet that you'll be here?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"I'm human- I don't have a pack, and my friends know I'm up here so if anything happens I can ask them to pick me up." You shrug, trying to appear relaxed- even if you're straight up trying to lie since you don't actually have.. well, friends. Though you're sure Namjoon must already notice that you're just putting up a front.

"I see. Alright then." He says, before he turns around, opening the door. "You guys can stop eavesdropping now, by the way." He scolds his packmembers inside, who all, except for one, have been actively listening in on the conversation.

"Sorry.." a tall guy with broad shoulders laughs softly, opening the door a bit wider. "We were just curious. Come inside you two, you must be freezing!" He ushers you both in, and you follow with a bit of hesitance, trying to distract yourself with rather examining the interior of the large cabin. Jungkook takes a moment to talk to his pack, probably to catch up with his leader and to tell the rest that you're.. not too fond of werewolf people.

All while you're in the bathroom, towel drying the ends of your hair while contemplating your life choices.

That's a whole pack of wolves- seven people currently present, and god knows how many more members they have! If they wanted, they could literally just cook you for dinner tonight, and no one would even really notice. Since you work as an independent person, you don't technically have an employer, and like mentioned, you only really have one somewhat friend who you text once in a blue moon.

No one would miss you if these guys were to just.. murder you. Or do even worse.

"Hey- you okay?" Jungkook's voice calls out through the closed door, a knock before that announcing his presence.

"Y-yeah, I'm done." You say, opening the bathroom door to reveal the young wolfboy who's looking at you with his golden eyes filled with worry. And he's not the only one-

most of his other packmates somewhat look into your direction with varying degrees of the same emotion. "Let's stop staring at her, maybe then she'll feel a little less like prey." the only one who's not currently looking at you says, making most of the other's avert their eyes caught red-handed.

"I'm sorry, if you'd like I'll show you my den- I mean, house! You can stay there by yourself if that's a little less threatening to you." Jungkook offers, and you shrug, before nodding.

Right now, you feel way too crowded. Like they're circling you, waiting for a chance to strike.

You both run a little from the main house to another, smaller one- a small cabin, cozy and a little chaotic inside. "Sorry- I didn't clean up." He laughs a but bashfully, turning on the lights before he swiftly throws an empty paper bowl from the small table in front of his kitchenette into the bin nearby.

"Its fine." You reassure him, feeling a bit better in here. "I'm.. is it really fine if I stay here?" You worry, and he nods.

"Its totally fine. You can even sleep here if it doesn't let up- which it won't, to be honest." He says.

"How do you know?" You wonder.

"Senses. Perks of the wolfblood I guess." He offers kindly, walking over to put a blanket on the couch. "I'll just make you a place to crash if you want, I promise I'll sleep at the packhouse so I won't bother you-"

"No-!" You rush out, actually a bit unintentional, as you swallow, before you collect your words properly. "I- could you maybe stay? I don't.. sleep well alone.. during storms." You mumble. "I know it's stupid but-"

"Its not." Jungkook promises, a warm glimmer in his eyes like a warm furnace during a cold winter day. "Seokjin- one of my packmates, the tall one with the broad shoulders who gave you the towel-" he says, occupying himself with putting a pillow on one side of the couch, "-he's similar. He needs the pack together during storms or he can't sleep well. Something to do with instincts." He shrugs, walking onto an open room with a bed inside, where he steals another pillow and a thick blanket to put on the bed.

"Oh." You say. "Then you should sleep with them-" you start, but Jungkook laughs.

"Nah, he'll be fine. He's treating me too much like a pup anyways!" He jokes, finishing up the couch before he moves the small coffee table further away for space. "There you go. Oh, you can charge your phone here too- let me get you a cable for that-" he perks up, before he moves into his bedroom to search for one.

Something feels... off.

You're no longer very worried about things going south for you, the small cabin offering you a warm place to stay- and in a way, his company is oddly soothing. He's kind, clearly not out for blood, and you also feel pretty sleepy, as the exhaustion from the last week catches up with you.

You've never felt so.. tired, but in a good way. As if your body is finally preparing to rest and restart.

"There. You can plug it in over there- just not on the left, that ones kind of wonky. I need to fix that up soon." He chuckles a bit shyly, and you nod, plugging your phone in near the small TV.

"Did you make this.. yourself? Or..?" You wonder, as you look at your phone starting.

"Yeah. Most of us built our homes ourself. It's like a coming-of-age thing almost." He says, pride swelling up in his chest at your next words.

"I like it. It's very.. warm. Welcoming." You nod, looking at him, who's staring back at you with round cheeks and even rounder eyes.

"Thank you!" He grins, slightly sharpened canines reminding you of what he is, down the line, and past his soft words and gentle looks.

But it doesn't scare you.

"I'll leave the door open in case you need anything." He offers, as he walks into his bedroom. "Have a good night." He smiles, and you nod, phone in your hand vibrating once to tell you it's started and charging.

"Thanks-" you say, smiling back a little hesitant. "-.. and good night to you too." You offer, before you watch him get ready for bed.

And that night, despite being alone in the woods and in the same home as a wolf-

You sleep soundly, tightly, no dreams haunting your slumber at all.

[nerdgal27]

Home 

Sunshine dapples the deep green forest. Burn the late morning dew glittering jewels in mid air. Coffee mug in hand black liquid slosh onto cold fingers as I wobble down the tiny staircase of the camper pickup truck. An old rust bucket is the last bit of my savings can afford. 

Sit on a lazy afternoon in a cozy chair. Stare at the endless view of evergreen pines and misty gray mountains is worth it all. Take in the cool sweet wood scent of green fill sore lungs. Swivel chair further away from an old gravel path. Wind over the lush undergrowth. Where customary rodents cover last night's tracks. Eat the empty nut shells and left over trail mix I left for them. Can’t stomach to eat anything again. What’s the point now?

Shield away by Mother Nature’s warmth and green walls. Her sweet melody chirps and whispers in the silence. The sticky sun glues me under the camper cobweb awning. Spiders big enough to play the banjo. Thought grows a chuckle to who said that once. Forever gone away in the forever distance. All for the best. For everyone. For them most of all. 

Free from pain, from it all. It has been done. No need to know the outside world. Can almost imagine it all. Not now. No need to think about any of that at all. Other than wonder how hot this coffee is for me to sip. 

Deep rich aroma takes me away from the pines. Old giggles bounce from concrete walls. Sparks spray in all directions mingles the smell with old metal. When muddle hands rub black grease over my eyebrow. Old scooter parts vomit all over the floor. A victim to be torn apart, rebuilt to either drive faster. Or explode. 

Phone rings memories back to green and soft blue reality. Muffle in the far depths of the 1967 brown and green camper. Can’t be right, I shut it off last night. 

Crawl back into the sauna brown dungeon. Follow the ringtone to the front. Weave over the hot tea water bottles on the fuzzy floor. Brush last night’s debris aside in the trap of doom between the front seat. Bright pink old life shivers in a frenzy. 

I shouldn’t turn the phone over to see the screen. This needs to be my new life now. Can’t go back anyways. How can I like this? How can anyone? Doing this for them. An glove box that only opens and closes by a swift kick is a good place to bury it all away. Turn off all of the past in orange velvet darkness. Leave it all tucked away. Return to the fresh sirene new life. 

Canadian geese honk over the tall tree peaks. The way the flock swoops down a long terrain down from blue skies and feather clouds. Sunrays beam grasshopper hisses mid day summer heat. Follow the distant honks and splash. A cool lake lap over dry cracked feet sounds perfect. Clear this heavy head of mine. 

Wander back inside. Cool worn out duds for lake water. Cold beer in hand, tuck comfy chair under my arm. A handful of fluorescent pink tags roll in hand. Nice way to return to my new home without getting lost. Wait for another set of geese to flutter above. Lead the way out of the hot sun. Weave between the trees. Step over tree root monsters. Smile at the odd bird or animal hops by. 

“We don’t keep secrets, right?”

I whisper to the memories. “No, you don’t.” 

Another voice in the dream rasp. “He still loves you.” 

He shouldn’t, neither should any of you. Too broken, not enough. Difficult. 

Out here. All are no different than any woodland creatures from the largest moose to the small voles scurry by. What is worse, to remember the words. Or the subtle silence of the first night when all of this began. A sink full of awful empty decisions. The oldest brother’s quiet gaze. Patterns flourish in the forest around me. Bright shapes shimmer all that is long gone behind me. Nothing wrong with a cold one in hand on a hot day. 

Besides, take in all of this. A wide dark turquoise green lake. Full of life. A single loon lone coo along with the tiny dots of geese in the water. Soft gentle slopes into sand and clay. Show evidence of deer were here moments ago. 

He misses you that’s all 

One’s voice. Does he?… Of course he does. How could he not? Everyone else knows. 

Sit down in the chair. Set down the last 3 cans of a 6 pack. Miraculous 3 survivors of a drunk blackout yesterday. Crack open heaven. Slide it down the fire throat. Feel it burn over it all. Take in this brand new peaceful life of quiet. Should bring out a couple fishing poles for tonight. If I remember to come back for them. Can’t go back to anything nowadays. 

When will I see you? 

My old self. When my voice had more life. 

Soon, Sweetheart, it will be like old times. 

There’s a reason why they are called old times. It was a good life. A loud life, somewhat chaotic. The endless laughs, pile ons, pushing around. Plastic cockroaches in cupboards, glitter in ninja smoke bombs. One time Mikey and I replaced Raphael’s shower gel for blue dye. Guy was a grumpy Smurf for 4 days. His grouchy growls. The wooden spoon in papa turtle Smurf’s hand. Mikey ran for his life. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Wash over the more recent screams and pushes away. Even more of the dark and bleek. 

When closet doors rattle. Whisky bottles smash in the far distance- 

No. Not again. Never speak of it again. None of that ever happened. 

Water swishes numb ankles. Whirl to baby ducks splash nearby. Over work, Mother of 6 squacks her children to behave and paddle behind her. Chuckles at their little feet blur under the clear water. Match the same speed of their cotton ball wings. Can remember when Mikey used to run the same way. Anytime Donnie chases Mikey out of his lab. Sometimes so then Donnie and I could play science and pupil again. 

Water waves between my toes. Shallow parts warm from the sun. Heat numb limbs. Swallow back to boiling hot water. Scorch delicate young skin.

Mommy it’s too hot. 

No…stop

Screams echo. Blister scar. Bare to the summer heat. Every single one remembers every pain. Why did I wear this tank top? Why am I out here? Can’t stay.

Hands stick on to lawn chair. Water waves slosh against the sandy ridge. Small legs kick. Hot water splashes everywhere. Hands shove deep under water. 

Sweetheart, breathe…

Violet voice whispers. Take his invisible hands. Squeeze them. The way he told me to. No thumb rubs my hands. Take in all of the cool fresh pine. Have to get used to this alone. Least this way is the best. No one’s burden any more. Can pick up this lawn chair anytime. 

Wander back the pink flag trail. Lose myself to millions of songs birds and butterflies flutter by. Brush soft long grass under fingers as I go. Crisp fresh air. Think about what bait to use for food tonight. Another thing I will have to start getting used to. 

Yellow happy face atena swings in between shrubs. Wave me down the direction home. Swig the last bit of powerful robust dark beer. Ignite pain away in a smooth burn. Drown darkness where they belong. 

Soft breeze hushes the forest buzz. Breathe in strong bitter fuel knocks the taste of beer. Great animal growls a deep hungry growl. Take me back to a cool violet room. To a lab chair and elastic bands for hair tying. 

“Sweetheart!?”

 Old life hollars me dead frozen in the tall grass. Hidden behind thick honeysuckles. The low hanging tree branches block the meadow opening of my new home. Don’t need to see how close the voice is. Can hear his feet crunch back and forth in the gravel. Rusty truck doors whine open and slam shut. Yellow smiley atena whirs in a hyperactive spaz. Empty cans clang on the far away floor board. Fast in a frantic, more than the time he caught Mikey in his mutagen supply. 

Footsteps wobble in the far depths of camper sweet camper. No.

He can’t be here. No one can find me like this.  I did this for them. They need to stay away from me. Far from any ear shot here. Can drop everything and run. Spin to do so. Lungs leap to jump for the hot pink trail back to the lake. 

Get back here! 

Hot greasy hand clap thunder. Drop the entire lazy afternoon supply. Oh crap no! Don’t drop them.

Metal chair legs clang against beer cans. 

Shallow gasp in the wind. Pushes me faster down the trail. Teenage bare feet pound thistles and burrs I weaved around before. 

Child bare feet blur down a hallway. Slam the bedroom door shut. 

“Tessie, wait!” 

Oh shit! Dammit! All the curse words Mikey should never hear. He found me. Faster down the hill. Over the log. Reach for the ridge. Follow the open blue sky between the evergreen trunks. 

Slip under fast large hands. Hardwood scraps small bare knees. Away from him. Away from the man. Go go go. 

Feet hush to the quiet breeze and soft rainfall of leaves. The broken footpath behind me, bare. Maybe turned back to the shellraiser for something. No matter. Least I can slow down, and lungs can breathe. 

Leaves rustle ahead. Green blur drops from above. Dead in his tracks. The tall slender turtle raises his hands and snatches me. Should have known. Been raised by ninjas for Pete sake. 

Jerk arms in his grip. Swallow the rock down. 

“Donnie, what are you doing here? Let me go.”

Sink away from his gaze. Loosen his grip to one hand on my arm. 

He pants, “I’m not here to fight, and I should be the one asking you the same question.” 

Rip his hand off me. No point in running. His long legs follow behind down the path. As I pick up the lawn chair. 

“No phone call, no note, do you know what I found in that camper?” His feet pound behind. 

Pick up what’s left of the 6 pack. Dangle the last 2 cans yet to be drank. No point in hiding it now. Plus he said he’s not here to fight. There’s no need to answer. Lanky green hands rip the plastic rings. 

“Hey!”

Whirl back to the two cans soar into the forest. Shove Donnie back. 

“What the hell was that for? That stuff ain’t cheap.” 

He towers over me. Loom a dark shadow over. Calm eyes narrow into deep violet slits. Deepens his sharp tongue. 

“Do you know how long I drove to find you,

How long we’ve been looking for you?” 

Step out of his shadow. Continue down the path into the sunlight. Home sweet home lies ahead. 

Shrug as I go, “You didn’t have to. Just decided to take a trip, that's all, what’s wrong with that?”  

Old life lingers in the shadows. Listen to teeth grit splinters. Boy did he skip coffee? Why is he hear anyway. Everyone knows so what’s the point?

Set the lawn chair back under the shade of a hunter's green awning. Since Mr. Grumpy in the corner threw a good set of cans. Guess I’ll have to get more. Crawl back inside the brown velvet coffin. Weave over the thrown cans on the floor. Guess I’ll have to clean this soon. The camper door slams shut. 

“I wouldn’t shut that, unless you want to melt.” I speak to the ghost by the door. 

Silence. Gonna be civil now. Want to burn holes through my head? Go on, do it. Everyone else is gone, why should anything matter. Open the mini fridge. To an endless supply of bottles, cans, and what I forgot most. Leaps off the shelves, plop to the fuzzy floor. 

Oh shit. 

“…what is that?” 

He’s the brainiac and yet he’s asking me? Should be pretty obvious by the label. Let his long legs weave around me. Take a bag from the fridge. I Crack open a cold one. Fire burns down all those dark heavy nights. Think back to all of the colorful waves last night.

“…T-this…” 

Leave him in the camper. Let him figure it out himself. Wasn’t supposed to be here to begin with. Might as well read what brand I use, for what? Who knows. 

Set the can in the lawn chair. Camper door shuts, no slam? Weird. Shouldn’t he be furious or something? 

Been standing there for a while. Turn to him at the metal steps. Shaded from the hot sun. Bag shivers in between his fingers. Lost to the horizon. That I’ve seen thousands of times in his brown eyes. His internal gears whir. He never looks like this unless…

“You do know, right?” 

Silence answers. The deep rise and fall of his chest. He sinks down to the flatten tall grass. Let the bag fall between his fingers. A look I make when I wake up from a nightmare. Before I would run straight to his bedroom. 

Set the can away. How? What?! 

Rise up from the old seat. I ask, “The guys never told you?” 

Rise from his palms, bambi eyes round wide, “They know about this?!” 

“Well…yeah”- 

“How long?” He mutters, waiting for an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Take a step away from his ember coals glow. Shrug an answer, “I thought you knew, how can everyone else know but you Donnie, you know every inch of the city.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” He shoots from the ground. Bury me in his height, “You never call or text me anymore, and then leave the city to who knows where, does Mikey know?!” 

Mikey. Golden sun, white dust particles float over the sweet turtle. Bath in old and new sunlight. Breathe that old dry air of that lazy morning. 

Nod in silence. Hoarse throat stops all words Heavy numb limbs drag back inside the brown coffin. Large queen size mattress at the back. Warm by the sun. Shut all of the curtains away. Curl all away in a ball. Close away from all life. This is not what is supposed to happen. 

“Sweetheart?” Footsteps wobble the camper. 

No answer. Feel the camper sink down with him. Warmth touches my arch back, soft thumb rubs me to the old cool lab. All those years ago. 

“What are your plans for being out here?” He whispers. 

No, he already knows now. He can’t know about this too. It will crush him. Shiver under his soft palm. There’s no going back. I’ve made this decision. Already caused enough problems as it is. First Leo. How it all turned Raph down into this dark hole. Times I’ve picked him up because of what I’ve done. Tried to fix it all for Mikey. Tried to be happy for Mikey. Yet…I am here. This is what I deserve. Donnie shouldn’t even be here. Why is he still here?

Weight shifts the mattress. Warmth drapes behind all along against me. His long arm slides around me. Pull me back tight against his beating heart. Donnie’s muzzle nestles deep into my shoulder. It doesn't take much for him to know. 

Brush back strands from my cheek. 

He whispers, “You don’t deserve to go through this alone.” 

Roll in his arms. Drown myself into this chest I’ve missed so much all night long. Muzzle in his sweet scent and warmth. Squeeze all pain in his tight arms. 

I shake, “I-I Don’t kn-know… if I can go back, big brother, I-I’m too broken. No one should be stuck with me”- 

Soft lips plant firm silence my heavy forehead. 

“You are never too broken, it’s okay to have space for a while when you need it.” His deep voice murmurs in my ear. 

Cling on to his belt. The same way when I was small. Take me back to the memories. Away from all of this. Let all of the pain drip onto his chest. Choke on my words.

As my brainiac brother traces slow circles on my back. Sweet rich coffee fills my world. Over the fresh pine. More warm than the summer hot sun. A soft sigh quells more than the lone loon. I am back home. This is home. Safe. Can hide here as long as I need. 

 He whispers, “I will stay for as long as you need me, little pupil.” 

Bit through all the painful tears to fall. That roll down my brother’s chest. Yesterday I was in darkness. Tomorrow, who knows where I will be. For now I am with Donatello. My close friend, my big brother.

I am home. 

[scrapsovereign]

“I Have Standards”: A Choose Your Own Adventure Smut Fic

Description: NSFW. Astarion rejects you after defeating the Goblin Camp, so you seek out a certain wizard to make him realize what he's missing out on...

Pairings: Astarion x F!Tav, Gale x F!Tav, Astarion x Gale x F!Tav

Trigger warnings/tags: Very NSFW/18+, breeding, predator/prey, knife play, vampire sex, noncon/dubcon elements, Possessive Astarion, Manipulative Astarion

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

(Choice: Let Astarion wreck you after hunting you as his prey)

(Go Back!)

After Astarion’s proposition of claiming you, you want him so badly you can barely see straight. You need to know he means what he says, that he’s willing to show you by taking what’s his. His hand has left your neck in anticipation of your answer, and with great reluctance, you take your hand off of him.

“I don’t believe you…yet. You’ve turned me down once, you’ll have to chase me if you want me,” you challenge him, looking him dead in his gorgeous, ruby eyes.

“Is that so? You want me to hunt you, to hold you down and prove it to you?” He clarifies, tilting his head in curiosity.

“If you can catch me, I’ll be yours- only yours. For long as you’ll have me, even if it’s only tonight,” you promise him, reaching up to brush your fingers against the flushed crest of his ears. You trace a fingertip up and around the pointy ends, admiring how beautiful he is as he bites his lip, your center aching as he moans softly for you. 

Astarion licks his lips, staring at your wet heat as if he can see right through your clothes. “Very well. I’ll allow you a moment before I give pursuit. Starting…now.”

You turn on the balls of your feet and launch yourself out of your tent, clearing the canvas threshold, making a beeline for the path that leads into the forest.

The only word you can think of that describes how you feel is exhilarating. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you’ve never felt so free. Dashing through the woods at night is something your elders told you never to do, and you wonder if it was because they wanted to keep this secret all to themselves. You dodge roots and rocks alike, navigating the landscape with as much ease as if you were back home. 

The burn in your lungs and legs can’t keep up with the compulsion of your feet to keep moving forward. A lucky thing you’ve happened upon a clearing in the wood by a stream. It’s the perfect place for a lover’s tryst, and by the looks of it, someone’s already intended to use it as such. There’s a nest made with a large linen thatched rug, a basket full of food and beverage, with pillows and folded blankets. 

Seems like a thoughtful setup. You should probably keep moving on before whoever’s planning to use it shows up.

That is, if you didn’t feel the bite of cold steel pressed against your throat. 

“Does this seem familiar, darling?” Astarion murmurs into your ear, pressing his body against yours. You feel the intrusion of his rock-hard length concealed by his trousers pressing against the curve of your lower back, the puff of his cool breath against your neck. 

“Not really, I don’t think we’ve been here before,” you state, knowing full well he means the knife at your throat.

He laughs at your obtuse remark, his other hand working at the back of your garments. “You’re delightfully amusing, my sweet.”

The blade’s edge is close enough to slice your skin open like butter if you so much as breathe too deeply. You stay still for him while he makes work of the lacings at your skirt, following the fabric’s movement with your eyes to the ground below. Your inebriated state does you no favors, making you forget you have a razor-sharp dagger at your neck. You hiss with pain as it slices a shallow line across your skin, just enough to draw blood.

Astarion stashes his weapon with a flourish, whipping you around to face him. He is no longer the snarky, pompous, high Elven noble he pretends to be.

The shirtless man before you has embraced his full vampiric nature as a monster, a creature of the night. His typically sultry crimson gaze has an odd glow to it as he watches the blood ooze down over your clavicle, between your breasts. He drags his tongue in an unnecessarily lewd fashion over his front teeth with a smack, revealing canines that have grown to twice their normal size. You’ve never seen him so wild and unhinged outside of combat.

You should be terrified.

Except that you’re not. You like him like this- the tug low in your belly and the wetness that is ruining your undergarments being the most obvious signs. 

A thrill goes through you as Astarion advances on you, stalking you as he drives you backwards. Your foot catches on the corner of the blanket that is laid out and you lose your balance. You gaze upwards in awe at the predator who has caught you in his clutches. His arms hold you in a lover’s embrace before he lays you down gently on the spread out fabric.

Astarion takes his place on top of you to admire how good you look underneath him, illuminated in shades of blue and silver underneath the moonlight. His vampiric strength steals your breath as he grasps both sides of your stays, ripping them along with your chemise clean down the middle. You stare up at him, your heart hammering in the cage of your bared chest, stunned and aroused he's torn the clothing right off you. 

His mouth falls open, elongated fangs visible as he takes in your flushed, almost-naked body. You can’t help but meet his eyes, your thighs still quivering with anticipation, your breasts splayed to the side and jiggling with each shaky breath. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he groans, utterly besotted, as he leans down to finally take possession of your lips with his. 

He’s not nice about it, nor would you want him to be. It’s sloppy, open-mouthed, and ravenous. You kiss each other like you’re both starving for the air that passes between your shared bodies. His fangs catch on the vermillion border of your lips, groaning sinfully as he sucks and laps up the crimson that dribbles down your chin, moving down to the horizontal laceration at your neck.

“Now darling, what did you say to describe what I could do if I caught you?” he wonders aloud, noisily slurping up the blood that drips down as he palms your breasts. “Ah, yes. That I could use your body for my pleasure? For the evening, or as long as I’ll have you?”

“Word for word,” you confirm, gasping when he rolls the bud of your nipple between his blood-stained fingers. 

He hums with a condescending smile, gathering the front of your panties in his fist.

“And what if I want more?” He questions you tersely, licking his lips. 

A passing cloud obscures the moon above you, shrouding your forms in darkness. His beauty, which shone like an ethereal beacon in the moonlight, undergoes a transformation into a terrifying, hungry creature of shadow. 

“I’ll give it to you,” you whisper with a trembling voice, “Name it and it’s yours.”

He rips the flimsy fabric of your undergarments off your body, eyeing the slick that got on his hands with fascination. He licks his palm to sample your essence, groaning like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

“Divine. Simply…divine,” he notes, laying atop you, hooking his leg underneath yours. “And naïve, you’ve agreed to my terms before I’ve stated them. What if I want your heart, as well as your body and your blood? Would you give your love only to me?”

Your heart pounds in your ears. You’d been a fool for him since the day he held you to the ground with a dagger to your neck, unrequited love at first sight. The more you learned about him, the harder you fell. Sure, you thought Gale was hot, and it made your botched seduction of the wizard easier. But Astarion?

“You’ve been the only one from the start. I made a mistake going to Gale to make you jealous,” you admit, your dry voice wobbling with the truth. 

Astarion chuckles darkly at your confession. “My foolish, sweet thing. A mistake you won’t repeat after I’ve had my wicked way with you.”

He frees himself from his pants, rubbing his erection against your folds to tease you and gather your copious arousal. “Nevertheless, I hope you’re ready for me… darling.”

You gasp as he thrusts inside you forcefully, meeting no resistance as his cock plunges all the way to the smooth cap of your cervix. Your back arches and you tip your head up to the stars as he enters you, delighted at how well he slots into your warm and wet channel.

“Sweet hells, you feel good Tav…you fit me like a glove,” he groans, shivering as he pulls back and thrusts into you again. “Like your cunt was made for me alone.”

He forces your arms above your head, pinning them down with a clenched fist after hearing you whimper at his words. “Do you like that, pet? Knowing the gods made you to ruin me?”

Cheesy lines like this make you laugh or roll your eyes normally, but right now you’re spellbound and cock-drunk and you love it. “Yes, Astarion,” you gasp, “I’m yours, only yours. Take me…please.”

Astarion growls at your surrender, snapping his hips roughly against your pelvis. You cry out loud with every wave of pleasure it brings, each thrust pushing against a nerve bundle deep in your channel that sends you up towards your peak. 

He knows you’re close by the way your walls tighten around him. “Coming undone for me so soon?” He mocks you, licking a stripe up your neck, over the cut from his blade as you moan and shudder underneath him. He adjusts the angle at which he pounds into you as he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, the new position stimulating the pink pearl of your erect, exposed clit.

“Ahh! Can’t help it…you feel so good…I’m gonna, Astarion-I’m gonna,” you pant as he brings you to the edge of bliss, only after a few minutes of having his cock inside of you. Your eyes flutter to the back of your head as a wave of pleasure overwhelms you and crests. 

Astarion knows. “Look at me, I want to see you when you unravel for me,” he commands in a harsh tone. Your eyes fly open and snap to his, unable to deny your magnetic pull to him. “Who do you belong to, Tav? Say it!”

“You, Astarion!” Your vision goes white with your climax, causing you to briefly lose sight of him as you keen. You feel as if a lightning bolt had hit you with the way your orgasm rips through your body, your hips convulsing as your muscles contract around him.

He’s not too far behind you. You can feel him harden and twitch, hear his ragged moans, see the change in his ruby eyes as pleasure takes over. Your womb aches to accept him, your sex fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm, encouraging him to go deeper.

“Fill me, I’m yours…use me, claim me, breed me.”

Right after you say “breed”, Astarion makes a noise you’re certain you’ve never heard before. It’s a groaning exhale that turns to a whimper as he pounds into you once, twice, then stilling as he thrusts home. You welcome the teeth that sink deep into your shoulder, the pain translating to pure pleasure. His cock pulses and twitches, buried as deep within your channel as your bodies will allow, painting your walls with ropes of his hot spend.

Astarion filling your pussy with his cum sends you over the edge again. “Astarion.. I’m gonna…I’m…oh Gods,” you shudder and sigh, your second orgasm not as intense as the first. He seems proud of himself that you’ve had another one so soon, still buried in the proof spasming and throbbing around him.

He brings you down from your shared high, winding down to a languid pace before he stops. You push up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath and kiss him all at once.

Astarion shoves you back down to the ground before your lips touch. “And where do you think you’re going? We’re far from done here.” 

You stare back at him while you process his words, your mind slowed by the wine you’ve consumed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, darling. You’re the one who asked me to breed you, and I don’t intend to disappoint.”

The length that had gone soft inside of you inflates with your blood. “I’m going to stuff you full of my cum, make that sweet little cunt of yours milk my cock for every…” Astarion kisses you tenderly on the lips.

“Last,” he sinks his teeth into the buttery smooth flesh of your breast, sucking a bruise into your skin.

“Drop.” He flips you over, positioning you with your ass in the air, your face down on the ground. 

The new angle feels incredible. You’re not sure how he’s stayed inside you, and you don’t care. You wish that the evening could stretch on for eternity, your bodies joined as one. His cock jumps and you take that as your cue to move back and forth, drooling at how well it massages your walls. 

Astarion’s hands clutch at the flesh of your backside, guiding the motion of your hips. “Yes, that’s it, that’s a good girl,” he groans. 

You clench and flutter around him when praises you. He thrusts into you while you work his length, moaning for him with abandon when his scrotum slaps at your erect clit. 

“Mmm Tav,” he moans obscenely, his fingernails digging into your skin. “If only you knew how much…I wanted to take you just like this. Naughty little minx, walking past me in those tight leather britches of yours…Gods, how I wanted to rip them away… fuck you senseless.”

“Just like this?” You pant out, so overwhelming by your impending climax, you can barely speak. 

“Like this,” he explains with his hand by wrapping your long hair around it, pressing down on the small of your back. 

The change in angle is all your bodies need to let go. Your simultaneous orgasms draw out the addictive bliss of your coupling, unsure of where it starts or ends. Astarion’s cock jerks and pulses as he empties his seed into you again with a grunt, collapsing over the top of you to catch a breath he doesn’t need. 

“You’ll give me one more,” he pants, pressing a kiss to the nape of your sweaty neck. He pulls out of your spasming cunt and rests his entire body weight on your back. You whimper at the loss of him, your arms and legs quivering from the aftershocks, on the verge of collapsing at any moment.

“I…I don’t know if I can,” you gasp out as you try to catch your breath. You’re shocked you had more than one orgasm during partnered sex. Then again, you’ve never been so thoroughly wrecked like this by anyone before. 

“Really, now? Make that two,” he clips, rolling you on to your back. You comply, half out of exhaustion and half out of your desire to embody the obedient plaything you promised to be for him.

Astarion eyes the pearly white liquid that seeps out of your abused hole, tsking in disapproval. He grabs a folded blanket in one hand and your ankles with another, shoving the blanket underneath your lower back as he lifts you up by your feet.

“That’s better. We don’t want to waste a single drop, now do we?” he drawls out his rhetorical question, gathering the cum that has spilled from you on his fingers and stuffing it back into you. Your hips buck upward with the intrusion, clenching around his digits as he pushes his seed back inside your entrance with a squelch.

Being fingered was never your favorite because your partners were too fast or too rough, but the way Astarion strokes your channel is just right. You moan wantonly for him as he fucks you with his elegant digits, brushing against a spot yours can never quite reach. You can’t believe it, but you feel your center winding tight again, clenching around him, feeling the cum spill from your core faster than he can plunge it back inside you. 

“That’s it, yes, cum for me darling,” he commands, fastening his mouth to your clit, hastening your climax with his teeth and tongue. It feels good, but you want to reach your peak stuffed with his cock, to feel his essence spill inside you.

“I want…I want you inside of me…want all of your cum in me…want you to get me pregnant,” you struggle to speak, your throat dry from all the noises of pleasure you’ve made for him.

You’re certain your request broke him when he stares back at you, his mouth agape. His fingers are stilled on the outside of your soaking wet pussy. You worry for a moment that you went too far until he throws your legs over his shoulders, his steel-hard cock spearing your entrance. 

“I’m going to spill inside you…every single day…until your body accepts the gift I’ve given it,” he snarls, an eerie fluorescent light shining in his eyes. You imagine him making good on his promise, endless nights together in the wilderness blended into a haze of shared ecstasy. 

Astarion forces your legs to meet your chest, drawing out a noise you didn’t know you could make. “Flood your cunt with my seed every night, until you swell with my claim on you…showing the world who you belong to,” he grits out, displaying sharp, vicious canines. 

You think about his possessive hands caressing a small bump on your belly, pressing an adoring kiss to where the life you both created would continue to grow in your womb.

It makes you fall apart with a shout, his name on your lips. 

“Please fill me! I want this…want you, I love you,” you beg him, the four letter word spilling from your lips by accident in your reverie. 

Astarion’s cock jerks inside you as he registers your confession, a chill rippling across his moonlit, shimmering, sweat-drenched skin. His entire body tenses and quivers, his hands clutching at the linen blanket below. 

“Bite me,” you whisper to him, your vocal cords dry and hoarse. “Take my blood, love...put a baby in me,” you plead as you roll your head to the side, an invitation to re-open the wound from last night’s feeding.

Astarion’s teeth latch on to your neck without hesitation. With the first pull of your blood, his hips stutter and spasm, cumming inside you with a muffled sob. You’re right behind him, the exquisite pleasure and pain rocketing you up to heights unknown. 

You must have blacked out, because the next thing you know you’re laying on your side with him still twitching inside of you, held so tightly in his arms you can barely breathe. You can feel the vibrations of his velvety soft baritone rumbling something to you, but you aren’t able to hear him over the ringing in your ears. 

Astarion buries his head on your shoulder, unable to finish his sentence. You press a kiss to the sweaty silver curls at his temples and his ears fall flat as he looks at you, his expression as vulnerable as you’ve ever seen him.

“Did you mean it, Tav? Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” 

Your stomach lurches up to your throat, your heart skips a beat. Out of all the crazy shit you’ve said to each other tonight, of course this would be the one he wanted to talk about. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, steeling yourself for another rejection.

“From the moment I laid eyes on you. I fought it, because I didn’t want to believe it, but I love yo-“ 

Astarion’s sensual lips steal your words, kissing you with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s soaring from the relief you feel. 

“For the last two hundred years, I’ve never had a single thing to call my own. That is, until now,” he leans in to kiss you again and you pull away in panic.

“A lover? Or…a…uhm,” you stutter, flustered by the things you said to him in the heat of passion. He squeezes you with arms that glimmer in the moonlight, kissing the top of your scalp. 

“A family? No, well- maybe someday? I don’t know for certain, but not while Cazador’s alive,” he shudders. “Gods, can you imagine? At any rate, I didn’t expect you to bring out such a beast in me. I rather liked it, you know,” he murmurs into your hair, carding his fingers through your satin locks.

Astarion stills as if he’d remembered something, grasping your chin to look up at him. “Speaking of things I’m not ready for. I want you to be mine, and yet I cannot honestly say tonight was anything more than a bit of carnal fun,” he admits, his eyes flickering back and forth as he gazes into yours. “Is that alright, Tav? To allow only me to take what I want from your body? Can you live with the uncertainty that your feelings may never be returned?”

Your chest swells with the possibility of sharing his bed again, tears flooding your eyes. “We can take it day by day.”

“Good, just like I thought,” Astarion murmurs to you with a sinister edge to his sultry voice, alarming you. 

He chuckles and kisses your forehead, all of your worries washed away when he resumes his comforting touch. You sigh with contentment, drifting off to sleep against your lover’s chest, unwitting and unaware of the secret almost revealed to you.

[wtftarot]

PAC: The World

We've come full circle and it's about fuckin time, right? Time for the end. The World is harmony and the end of a cycle. She is that moment when you remember that you are the universe, you are One with everything and you feel it in your bones. It is recognizing your place as a human on this planet. The World is an ending, the inevitable conclusion but he is also the herald of a new beginning. What do they want to tell you? Let's fuck around and find out

As always this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember, use common sense and don't be a dumbass.

Four groups today, you can pick The Bird (eagle?), The Lion, The Person, or The Bull and head on to your reading.

The Bird/Eagle

The Nine of Cups and The Nine of Wands on the bottom of the deck.

This is fuckin gorgeous for y'all. The cycle that's ending for y'all is one where y'all had to fight tooth and nail for everything you wanted. I'm seeing the end of the Lord of the Rings, where the eagles fly Frodo and Sam out of Mordor after they destroy the Ring. I don't remember if Frodo actually says it, but I'm hearing him say "It's done". Y'all have been dealing with a rough ass cycle, huh? For it to show up as the One Ring? There may be one last battle of sorts? Like a boss battle. This is my nerd group (affectionate), I'm getting a lot of fantasy imagery. Think of it as one last challenge so you can truly close this cycle once and for all. For some of y'all, this cycle has been a long and very internal one. Something that's been weighing you down, that you're finally letting fall from your shoulders. What I'm seeing is that this 'boss battle" is a choice of sorts. You've been growing and figuring your way out of this cycle and all at once you're faced with a choice. This cycle has been more internal and you may have not seen much externally about it. It's like this choice embodies the cycle externally and you have a physical/material choice to make. Continue this cycle? Or Step forward with growth? And it will be that clear to you. Again with the imagery, I'm seeing a game screen with a choice. This path is unknown, keep going? Press X: Keep going. Press Y: Turn Around. Listen, I'm not much of a gamer like at all, so I don't know if that's a thing that happens in games? The last game I played was like three years ago?? So, the fact I keep getting gaming imagery means I'm really tapped into some of y'all's guides. Ok, the guide that's doing a lot of this is practically screaming in my ear to yell at y'all TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR DREAMS. FOR FUCKS SAKE. If you're into gaming and have been playing a game that's set in the woods, that message goes double. Don't ask me, I just work here. Now the cycle y'all are stepping into? Fucking beautiful, ok? Y'all are gonna be getting a lot of shit you have been wishing and crossing your fingers for. I'm hearing/seeing "yes, those too" and imagery of a belt and other accessories? This group is loud and I love it. Yea, even the "little things" you've wanted that aren't high on the priority list will be coming your way soon. And y'all are going to be rightfully smug about it. I think some of the blessings coming your way were things that people around you have tried to dismiss or downplay or talk you out of, so yeah you can be a lil bit smug about it. You've earned it. The past lil bit for y'all has probably felt very stale and stagnant but now that it's closing, things are going to be moving and improving. It may jolt y'all a bit at first. Cause this energy is so fucking different from where you've been, that even just dipping your toes in it will be a shock. It will be a welcome shock though, refreshing. The way this will manifest will be different for all y'all, but one thing's for sure, y'all are gonna fuckin run with it. After that initial choice, falling into this new chapter will be the easiest thing in the world.

random ass vibes: video games, d&d, 999, leaning into a new clothing style, fish, moon cycles, someone have a moon tattoo? birthday cake, HAPPY BIRTHDAY?

The Lion

The Moon and The Tower on the bottom of the deck.

Ok, you need to take a break. Full stop. Even if it's just ten minutes of sitting in nothing and silence. Your brain needs a rest from everything. I feel like y'all need to be told that yes, this thing does need to end. The cycle you're in may have become your comfort zone and you feel safe repeating it cause you know what to expect. It does have to end though. Y'all may have some idea that this ending is coming but you don't know just how much things will change when it does. This may be about a belief about the world or yourself that's really holding you back. Once clarity comes, you won't fit in the same places, with the same groups you used to. I don't blame you for resisting this, it can be terrifying to start questioning belief systems or old worldviews. Some of y'all may be questioning the religion or politics you were brought up in. It could be an understanding of who you are vs who others want you to be. Y'all are feeling a bit overwhelmed and confused as to what all this means. Sweetie, that's okay. This IS confusing and overwhelming. It is hard and scary and can leave you feeling very vulnerable. Babe, you need to stop pushing yourselves to have all the answers already. This one takes time and it's okay to let it. That's probably why the message I got for y'all before I even pulled the cards was for y'all to take a break. Not only that, but you don't have to tell anyone about this. Yes, if you can find some safe support through these periods of life do it, but you don't owe anyone what you're going through. Y'all are putting soo much pressure on yourselves to know everything already, to have all the answers. To know every aspect of who you are and what you believe. Wanna know something terrifyingly liberating? You never will. You will never know every single aspect of yourself cause you're always growing and changing. Same with your beliefs, you're always learning new things about how the world works, so your beliefs will always be shifting, even slightly. This is all coming from The World card cause y'all, more than anything need to let yourselves just BE. Be in the moment, stop interrogating them as if all the answers will be found there. The answers you're seeking will come in time and letting yourself live. I know the world we live in pretty much demands you have everything figured out at all times but that's bullshit. It's okay to change your mind.

random ass vibes: small-town vibes, doves or white birds, 919, the goth kid at the family reunion, lightning, trees, dragons, red clothes. nature vs nurture.

The Person

The Sun and The Hermit Rx on the bottom of the deck

Y'all it's time to come out of hiding. You've been hiding your truth for a WHILE. lol I'm hearing that lil Sunday school song: "Don't hide your light under a bushel, NO!" ( I grew up in the bible-belt, don't judge). That's a song for little kids if y'all don't know it, you don't have to look it up. It's telling me though that y'all have been hiding your light, so to speak, since you were a little, little kid. Like four-ish years old. Now, I don't know y'all's situation, it may not be safe for y'all to be fully yourself, and cause it seems like y'all have been hiding your whole damn life that's probably the case. So, BE FUCKING SAFE, okay? Because you're at this reading though, there are probably some ways you're hiding yourself that you don't have to. It's like y'all have just been letting people decide who you are when you're around them? Y'all are wearing other's projections of you like masks. I'm hearing "too much". Ooh boy, y'all listen, this group feels like I'm talking to my younger self. I cannot tell y'all the number of times I was told I was "too much", too loud, too quiet, too stubborn, too whatever. Unless y'all are being too cruel, too bigoted or whatever, y'all have a place here okay? Y'all seem to have taken being told you're too X, or not Y enough to heart and have whittled yourself down piece by piece cause that's what the people around you want. Y'all are like the fucking sun and everyone is demanding you be a candle. I think it's people you care about telling you this too. And because you care about them, you want them to be happy and comfortable. So, of course, you can be a little smaller, whatever they need, right? Now though, you've been doing this so long, you've lost yourself a bit, haven't you? The World is telling you it's time to call those parts of yourself back. Dig up those parts of yourself that you've buried. You can start as small as you feel you need to. It may be hard and confusing at first but soon it will be as natural as breathing. If you're not even sure where to start or have forgotten those parts, ask your guides and the universe for help. Ask for signs and to be put in situations that bring out those buried parts of you. You may have outgrown some of them and that's okay. Just prepare yourself, it won't be easy. Ya know that tingling feeling when your leg has been asleep and it's waking up? I feel that even though my leg has been fine this whole time. So it will probably be uncomfortable too. You should probably expect some hard reactions from the people around you too, especially if they've only known you as the you you've pretended to be for them. But that home you've been looking for? Felt calling? That can only be built by you being your authentic self. Otherwise, it'll just be another place where you have to wear a mask to be welcome. I wish I could end this one on a lighter note for y'all. This isn't an easy one. Take some alone time and please, take care of yourself through this. Whether you realize it or not, you are working through something really difficult and need to go easy on yourself through this.

random ass vibes: Halloween, candy, ghosts, 11:11, turtles, alligators, Frankenstein's monster, Venus, halos or angels?

The Bull

The Page of Pentacles and the Eight of Swords with the Empress on the back of the deck.

Y'all have so much fuckin potential, okay? Y'all are doubting yourselves so fuckin hard and The Universe and your Guides are sick of it. We all know someone who's amazingly talented but is so fuckin hard on themselves about it, to the point where you just want to grab em by the shoulders and shake them screaming YOU ARE WONDERFUL AND TALENTED. That's how your guides are feeling about you, all the damn time. I'm serious. I was only taking One card and the bottom of the deck for each group but the Eight of Swords came out too for y'all. Y'all are stuck in your head, questioning your every goddamn move and wondering why you're exhausted and never seem to move forward. This reading's tone is much more direct, like fed up snap the fuck out of its energy. Not that your guides are fed up with you, just fed up with your self-doubting bullshit. I'm hearing "..but they'll think I'm x" So, you may feel like if you truly lean into your potential and fail, people will have shit to say. Sweetie, they will and they will if you succeed and they will if you never do jack-shit. One of the few guarantees in life is that people will talk shit no matter what you do. The only control you have is why they're talking shit. Would you rather them talk shit about you cause you went after what you want, win or lose? Or because you never went after what you wanted, which is exactly what they wanted. The cycle that needs to end for you is one you have to end. End the cycle of shitting on yourself just cause you may not be where you want to be. End the doubt of your own capabilities. You really have NO CLUE how fucking amazing your life will get the second you start questioning those shitty thoughts. Like just questioning them, not even fully disbelieving them yet. Just questioning them will do fuckin wonders for you. If you're a beginner let yourself BE a beginner. If you want to try something new but are afraid of being a beginner then say fuck it and fuck you to those thoughts and start anyway. Hell, you don't have to tell anyone you're starting at first. You have the potential to be a whole-ass fuckin meadow and are doubting and even criticizing yourself for having to start as a handful of seeds. This is you're pep talk, in case you haven't figured that out yet. One other thing, some of y'all may be fearing the work that'll come with believing yourself, that it'll be tiring and all that. It's gonna be the opposite, sweetie. I mean, yeah it'll be work. But it's gonna be energizing. Do you know how much energy you've been hemorrhaging by shoving down allllllll that potential constantly? All of that will be freed up in a second and spent on fun shit. I believe in ya, babe.

Random ass vibes: thrifting, rainbows, makeup, cinnamon, puppets, purple, birds, card games, heart tattoos.

[specialagentlokitty]

Arthur(Merlin) x reader - in the snow

Hi! If you still write for BBC Merlin would you be able to write an Arthur x Merlin sister Reader? With the dialogue “Can you use magic?” “I feel unsafe answering that.” (from your 2024 prompt list). Thank you if you do write it! <3 - Anon💜

A/N: I realised I had spelled Gaius wrong after finishing this, but I’m really lazy and don’t wanna correct it 😂😭

You had no real interest in following your brothers footsteps to work for the royal family, you didn’t want to work for anybody else.

You were happy living on your own, away from the world with your house and your dog, your horse, your flowers.

You loved the way you lived.

And yes, every so often the knights would come to pick up your money you had to pay for your land, but since you grew your own food and sold your crafts in towns and villages it didn’t matter all that much to you.

Today was the day that they came to collect your payment, so you made sure to stay home.

Kneeling down in your garden, you were working on your flowers, carefully tidying them up and trimming them down.

You heard a bark, and you looked up.

“Rufus?”

Standing up, you brushed your hands on the cloth and looked to the dirt path where a few horses were coming down.

You grinned brightly when you saw a familiar face.

“Merlin!”

You quickly set everything down and made your way over, the moment your brother got down from his horse your crushed him into a hug.

“Hi!” You beamed.

Merlin laughed quietly, hugging you back.

“Hey, this place looks amazing.”

You pulled away, grinning proudly at him.

“I take pride in my work.”

You turned around to the knights and the prince that was with him, offering him a bow.

It was swift, elegant, you held a hand behind your back and one over your stomach as you leant down, lowering your head.

“Sire, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), I do hope my brother doesn’t give you too much trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”

You stood up, gesturing to the home.

“Rufus is no harm, I’m sure Sir Lancelot knows that.”

The knight smiled softly at you.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, I’ve got that tea you asked me for, would you like me to make you some?”

“Yes please, honestly you could open a tea shop because you make the best tea.”

You laughed a little bit, leading them all inside.

Only those three came inside, the other knights waited outside for them.

You sat them at a table, bringing over some bread you had made, and you made them all some tea, setting their cups down in front of them.

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll be right back.”

You went into your room, bringing up a floorboard to gather the money you owed before returning and handing it over.

Then you turned to Arthur.

“May I ask what brings you by sire? Normally this is not a matter for a Prince.”

“Merlin had been begging me for weeks to come, i guess it was curiosity to finally meet his sister. You’ve done wonderful things with this land. It was rundown the last I saw.”

“Thank you, the home itself was in good shape, it was a simple matter of getting some men from the village nearby to help clear it then set everything else up.”

Arthur nodded his head.

“How is it going? Have you been selling those crafts?” Merlin asked.

“Oh yes! People love them! They’re very helpful as well, especially for the farmers and the bakers, plant based baskets are easier to replace rather wood, and harder to break.”

Merlin nodded his head.

“You make things out of plants?”

“Yes sire, it is easier to get ahold of around here, they’re easier to work with as well. Especially Ivy. It is easy to manipulate the way it grows, and you can cut some away with the rest coming back.”

That was what caught his attention first, how compared to Merlin you were calmer, you were respectful to everybody even though you didn’t know them, and your craft.

Then there was your house, minimum decorations, just basic things you would need.

But outside was covered in flowers of all colours, the great wolfhound you rescued wondering in and out, and the horse outside just happily grazing in her paddock.

Arthur found himself coming back when he could, pretending to buy things that they needed in Camelot.

It was an excuse to see you, and he could try get there at least once a week since it was only a few hours there and back.

Arthur had to admit he was concerned when it drew to winter, because winter was harsh, and he couldn’t see how you would be able to survive there during the brutal winter.

“She’ll be fine, she always is. She knows how to get survive.” Merlin said.

“Merlin we are looking at the worst winter we’ve seen in years. It’s not even winter and we’re already getting snow. Your sister will be isolated out there for months if this carried on.”

Merlin paused what he was doing for a moment before he carried on.

“She won’t come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“(Y/N), if you ask her to come she won’t come.”

“Why?”

“Because she likes her own space, she doesn’t like crowded places like this and wouldn’t be able to live here for that long, a week or so would be fine.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, he carried on reading the book that was sat on the table in front of him.

“She’s also coming next week, to visit Guis.”

Arthur snapped his head up.

“Really?”

Merlin smirked a little, lowering his head as he carried on working.

“Yes sire.”

Arthur threw the book at Merlin who just barely dodged it and he left the room.

You arrived a few days later, staying mostly with Guis or Merlin if you could.

Arthur finally managed to find you while he was heading back inside the castle, you were stood outside with Rufus catching snowballs you threw.

He made his way outside, standing next to you.

“It’s far too cold to be outside.”

You turned around, offering him a smile.

“It’s nothing I’m not sure to this time of year, I was actually thinking about taking a walk. Do you know any good trails?”

“There is one, it’s possibly the safest. I’ll accompany you if you don’t mind? If anything happens to you I won’t hear the end of it from Merlin.”

You laughed softly at him.

“Yes fine by me sire.”

“Right, come wait inside.”

You followed him, and waited in the hallway.

It took a short while for him to come back, and he held out a thicker more elegant cloak out for you.

“Wear this.”

“Sire I can’t, that’s much to rich for somebody like me.”

“(Y/N) put the cloak on, and call me Arthur.”

You didn’t want to disobey him, so you put it on and he led you outside.

You could see that a few people walked the trail, but not many, and you two held light conversation as you walked.

It was nice for him to not have to act so important, and you were talking to him just like a normal person, as if you two were from the same town or village.

You enjoyed stopping to look at simple things, animals in the snow, the way the sunlight gleamed on the snow making it sparkle.

Arthur was just entranced by you, and how you just seemed so happy.

“You’re always so happy when I see you, why?”

“What is there to not be happy about? I have a home, a brother, a mother, I have friends, food. There is always something to be happy about.”

Arthur hummed a little, nodding his head.

“You wouldn’t want more in life?”

“Not when I already have everything. You don’t need to be rich to be happy, as long as you find something or someone that makes you happy it’s alright.”

Arthur glanced at you, and he smiled a little.

“That’s a very different take in the world.”

You beamed brightly at him, kneeling down to make another snowball for Rufus.

“Hey, look out!”

Arthur went to grab you but it was too late, you slipped down the hill, and he was rushing as fast as he could behind you.

When he reached the bottom he knelt down.

“Hey, hey (Y/N)?”

You grumbled a little, lifting your head to look at him.

“Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“My leg.”

Arthur nodded, looking down at your leg, gently touching it and you winced in pain.

“Here, come on, let’s move you up.”

Arthur helped you up, and you guys slowly walked along the bottom of the hill to try and find a way back up.

After a while you had to stop, so he took his cloak off and laid it on the snow and sat you down.

Rufus laid next to you letting out a whine.

“I’ll try find a way, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded your head, watching him leave.

You knew there wasn’t going to be one, a hill like that there wasn’t going to be a way back up that wasn’t covered in snow.

Making sure it was safe, you held out your hand, whispering something under your breath, and a small trail in the snow fell away, creating a path up.

You ran a hand over your dogs head, scratching behind his ears.

Arthur wasn’t gone long, and he came back, shaking his head.

“I couldn’t find one, I’m sorry.”

He knelt next to you, looking at your leg again.

“I did find some sticks though, do you have anything in that bag to help me make a splint?”

“Oh, of course.”

Opening it, you pulled out your scarf, handing it over to him.

“It’s not the best, but it should help. We’ll sit here and rest, then keep going. I think there’s a storm coming in.”

“I think I saw a path just over there, could you look?”

Arthur looked at where you were pointing.

“Yeah, of course.”

He got up, checking.

He made sure it was stable before grabbing you, helping you up it, then he crouched down.

“Get on.”

“I can’t do that, a Prince can’t be seen carrying someone like me.”

“I don’t care, you’re hurt, get on.”

You sighed, climbing on his back and he stood up, making his way back where you guys had come from.

“I’ll take you to Guis, hopefully you leg isn’t that bad.”

You nodded, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How did you see the path, I didn’t see it.”

“Maybe in the panic you missed it? Or it blended in the with snow?”

“No, no it definitely wasn’t there.”

Arthur went quiet for a few moment.

“There’s only one thing I can think off.”

“What’s that Arthur?”

He paused walking, crouching down to set you on the ground before turning around to look at you.

“Can you use magic?”

You tried not to react.

“I feel unsafe answering that.”

“(Y/N), can you use magic?

“If I say yes you’ll have me killed, if I say no you’re not going to believe me, and have me killed. I’m sorry but I can’t answer.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes a little bit, and he spun around to a noise behind him but there was nothing.

Turning back around his cloak and yours were on the ground, and you and Rufus were both gone, leaving not even a footprint in the snow