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valeisaslut · 10 days ago

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⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. five teaser

redits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 - 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 1.9k 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭒ content: MAINLY TO BAIT AND GROW SPECULATION FOR CHAPTER FIVE OMG SORRY YALL, LOTS of tension, fake dating, cursing, modern au, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

“She” hit first. And it hit hard.

No one saw it coming��not the industry, not the fans, not even you and Ellie.

One morning, it was just a melody. A quiet hum against warm skin, a song born from tangled sheets and late-night whispers.

The next, it was everywhere.

Tearing through the charts like a wildfire, devouring streaming records before you could even blink. It was the song. The one no one could escape. The one that made people stop mid-breath, their hearts stuttering in their chests. Billboard #1 in hours. Millions of streams in days. Headlines scrambling to catch up with the sheer force of it.

And it wasn’t like people weren’t already obsessed with you two. But this? This wasn’t just a sneaky tabloid photo or a blurry Instagram story.

This was a confession.

The way your voice cracked on the bridge. The way Ellie’s guitar solo cut through the final chorus, sharp enough to scar. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate in the way only truth could be. The kind of song that made the world wonder if they’d stumbled onto something too intimate, something they weren’t supposed to witness.

And then came the music video.

The barely-there touches. The weight of Ellie’s gaze, dark and all-consuming, like she was seconds away from ruining you. The way you let her. The way your body leaned into hers like the camera wasn’t even there, like none of it was staged. It didn't feel like a performance at all.

Millions of views in just an hour. People analyzed everything. Every glance, every breath, every shadow cast between your bodies. The debates were endless, scorching through Twitter threads to late-night talk shows.

And then—before the chaos even had time to settle—your album dropped.

It wasn’t your debut. That one had been dreamy, wrapped in soft edges and rose-colored longing. This one? This was a gut punch. It was messy, vulnerable, exposed. A love letter soaked in gasoline, tossed into the fire for the whole world to watch it burn.

It tore through the charts like an unstoppable phenomenon, instantly much bigger than your first album. Critics and fans alike scrambled to dissect every lyric, every melody, searching for hidden meanings, unraveling the concept behind the album.

Theories flooded the internet—who was it about? What moments were immortalized in those verses? Each song felt like a puzzle piece, and the world was desperate to put it all together.

But the answer of everyone’s questions was at the center of it.

In only one song.

And y’all already know which one.

The one with the moans.

TikTok flooded with reaction videos—shocked expressions, wide eyes, hands covering mouths. Fans obsessed over every second, every aching note, every gasp laced between the lyrics.

But then came the audio breakdowns. The pitch analyses. People isolating your voice, then isolating the other one behind you.

The low hum. The breathless murmurs. The unmistakable rasp of someone else's voice tangled in the melody.

It sounded way too much like Ellie.

And that’s when the world stopped breathing.

The theories came fast, dissecting every possible explanation. Was it really her? Was the song even about her? The fans knew. They had always known. Because the way the song teetered between ecstasy and devastation, between surrender and destruction, was undeniable.

Some called it art. Others called it a scandal.

Was it real? Was it an act?

Did that even matter anymore?

Because that was the thing about you and Ellie.

No one could tell what was real anymore.

Not even you.

Ellie listened to your album the night it dropped.

You didn’t know when—if she did it alone in some dimly lit studio, headphones on, mind unreadable, or if she was sprawled across some worn-out couch with her band, Jesse and Dina cracking jokes, drinks in hand, the whole thing some chaotic, half-drunken listening party. Or maybe she wasn’t alone at all. Maybe someone else had been there, whispering in her ear, asking questions about you.

But you knew the exact moment she finished it.

Because your phone buzzed in the middle of your album release party.

You were in the VIP section, drink in hand, surrounded by producers, your team, friends—people cheering, dancing, celebrating you. The whole club pulsed with your voice, lyrics slipping through flashing lights, weaving between camera flashes, shaking the walls.

“Ellie - slide to answer”

Your stomach twisted. Your pulse stuttered.

Rachel, half-drunk beside you, caught the name on your screen and let out something between a gasp and a scream, gripping your wrist. “Oh, you are absolutely answering that.”

“Not here,” you muttered, but you were already slipping through the crowd, ignoring the calls of your label rep as you pushed past swaying bodies, the music drowning out your racing thoughts. You found an empty hallway near the back exit, the bass from the club still rumbling through the walls, and exhaled before swiping to answer.

Ellie’s voice—low, rough, teasing—slid through the speaker instantly, wrapping around you like smoke.

“So” she drawled, “Is this where I get a thank you?”

You frowned, pressing your back against the cool brick wall. “For what?”

A chuckle. “For inspiring at least half your album.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone.

She let the silence stretch, letting you stew in it, savoring the way you struggled to find a response.

“You did real good, popstar” she finally murmured. “The whole thing’s fucking stunning.”

Heat curled in your stomach as you murmured, "...Thank you"

But you knew Ellie. Knew her well enough to hear the smirk in her voice. Knew this conversation wasn’t over.

“But that song?” she continued, voice dipping lower. “The one everyone’s freaking out about?”

Ellie hummed, and fuck—fuck—it sounded just like the hum in the song.

“Dunno, babe. Kinda sounds like me.”

You blinked hard. “Kinda?”

A small, amused exhale. “Oh, yeah, not kinda. Definitely”.

“Those moans tho? Damn, didn’t even remember you sounding that good…” She let the words hang. “Can’t blame people for freaking out over it. You stole the show.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You knew exactly what part she meant.

You scoffed, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted. “Maybe they’re freaking out over your voice in the background. Pretty reckless of you, Williams. Letting the whole world hear you like that.”

Silence. A charged one.

Then Ellie muttered something under her breath, like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You smirked. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“No, no, you totally just said something.”

A long, suffering sigh. Then—begrudgingly—"I said… maybe you like that.”

She was baiting you. She wanted you to bite.

So you did.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I liked something you did with your voice"

Silence.

Then— “Holy fuck.” Ellie groaned. “You’re actually evil.”

You grinned. “Oh, come on. You walked right into that.”

“I did not—”

“You called me,” you pointed out. “At two in the morning. Just to talk about that song.”

“I called you to congratulate you on the album.”

“And to tell me how good I sound moaning in your ear.”

A sharp inhale. “...Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, your words, not mine.”

You laughed, and she groaned again, but this time, it was softer. Playful.

Ellie sighed, something softer sneaking into her voice. “Really, though. It’s incredible.”

“You should be proud,” she added, quieter now. “Even if you did kinda put my voice on a sex song without my permission.”

“Oh my God—”

“Night, popstar” she cooed, voice dripping with amusement. “Try not to dream about me too much.”

Then she hung up, leaving you standing there, heart hammering, face burning, wondering how the fuck she always managed to win.

Just as the world was still catching its breath—The Fireflies struck back.

They had always been big. But this? This was dominance. A calculated move wrapped in chaos, their album detonating like a bomb at the peak of the frenzy. It rode the shockwave of She, fed off the obsession the world had with the two of you, twisting it into something even bigger.

And at the center of it all—her.

Gritty. Hungry. Unapologetic. Ellie’s voice cut through the speakers like a blade. The songs were restless, starved. Each lyric dripped with defiance, sharp enough to wound. The melodies hit like bruises, the guitar riffs torn straight from something primal. It was sex and recklessness and longing, a live wire of emotion that crackled under every chord, every note.

But more than anything, it felt like a challenge.

Because this wasn’t just any album. This was Ellie answering yours, a response carved into sound waves, a conversation neither of you had ever spoken aloud. The lyrics—too pointed to be coincidence, too raw to be fiction—hung in the air like a dare, a fire set ablaze for the whole world to watch.

But one particular track stopped you cold.

You had known The Fireflies’ album was coming. Had seen the press releases, the teasing interviews, the cryptic tweets. You had prepared for it. Braced yourself for whatever storm they were about to unleash.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared you for that song.

You weren’t even listening in order. The whole club was playing their music at full volume, but somewhere between dodging cameras and downing another drink, you slipped into a booth in the corner, threw in your AirPods, and started skipping through the tracklist.

And there it was.

"For Your Love."

The moment the first chords hit, something in you froze.

It wasn’t as raw as the rest of the album, not as brutal or reckless. This one was different. The melody curled into your ribs, burrowed under your skin, something quiet and agonizing and tender.

And the lyrics—

Jesus Christ, the lyrics.

Ellie’s voice, rough around the edges, singing about a love that clawed its way under her skin. A love that was too much, too consuming, too dangerous, and yet—she would do anything for it. Burn every bridge, tear herself apart, just to hold it for a little longer.

The song writing credits? only one name: Ellie Williams

Your throat went dry.

Because it didn’t sound like a challenge. Didn’t sound like reckless, cocky Ellie with her knowing smirk and sharp-edged voice.

It sounded like something else. Something real.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, heart hammering. Then, before you could think twice, you pulled up her contact and typed.

You: slick move, williams. real slick.

You: congrats on the album. it’s a fucking masterpiece. like fr. and tell Jesse and Dina I said hi

You stared at the text. Considered unsending it.

But before you could, your phone buzzed.

Ellie: you listened already? damn, didn’t know you were my biggest fan

You rolled your eyes, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

You: only a couple

You: one in particular caught my attention tho

Ellie: yeah? which one?

You hesitated. Then—

You: we’ll talk about that one later

She read it immediately. The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Ellie: tease.

The Grammy nominations dropped at midnight.

Five for you. Seven for The Fireflies.

But the ones that truly made your heart stop beating;

Record of the Year and Best Duo/Group Performance.

For She.

The reaction was immediate.

Your phone was already vibrating off the nightstand before your brain even processed the words glowing on the screen. Notifications flooded in like a tidal wave—texts, tags, tweets, news alerts. Your name and Ellie’s were already trending worldwide, once again tangled together like a force of nature.

By morning, it wasn’t just social media that was on fire—it was the entire goddamn world. Every talk show, every entertainment segment, every late-night monologue had something to say about it. Everyone from Rolling Stone to the New York Times was running the same story: Ellie Williams and Y/N are taking over the industry.

And yet, despite all the discourse, despite the endless debates and breathless speculation—there was one question burning hotter than all the others.

Would you and Ellie perform together at the Grammys?

It was too much to even think about. Because if She had already sent the world spiraling. If a song, just a song, had caused this level of obsession, of hysteria, of tension so thick people could barely breathe through it—

What the fuck would happen if you and Ellie brought it to life on the biggest stage in the world?

No one was prepared.

Least of all, you.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 →

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @kaykeryyy @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez @catrapplesauces @livvietalks @furtherrawayy @thatchosen1 @kanadadryer @littlerosiesthings @eriiwaii @firefly-ace @redlightellie @elliepoems @sabrinathewitchh982 @shady-lemur @jubileexoxo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OMFG GUYS. I POSTED THIS MOSTLY SO CHAPTER FIVE WOULDN'T BE THAT LONG AND TO GROW SOME EXPECTATION IM SO SO SO EXCITEDDDD. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

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callsigns-haze · 7 months ago

Note

I love your Tyler stuff! I have so many ideas in my head I just suck at writing lol

Could you write something where tyler and reader are married and They are out filming having a good time there and the reader who normally rides in the front seat with tyler switched to go with Lilly last second so javi could join tyler and the tornado shifted out of nowhere and reader and Lilly were right in the path. Reader gets hurt from the the car flipping over and it takes awhile for the rest of the crew to find them and the whole time tyler is freaking out and almost in tears. They finally find them and you can end it how you want.

Not so cruising

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: During a storm chase, Y/N and Lilly are caught in a tornado after a last-minute seat swap, leading to a harrowing rescue by Tyler and the team, with Y/N injured but eventually safe.

Chapter Warning: Intense storm danger, car accident, and graphic descriptions of injuries.

The open road stretched out under the vast Oklahoma sky, the sun dipping low on the horizon as Y/N and Tyler cruised along, the truck’s engine humming steadily. The storm they’d been tracking all day was finally forming, and the anticipation in the air was electric. This was the thrill that had brought them together—two storm chasers with a passion for capturing nature’s most powerful and unpredictable displays.

Y/N normally rode shotgun with Tyler, the two of them an unstoppable team. But today, their crew had grown with the addition of Javi, an old friend and fellow chaser. Y/N noticed Lilly, their new meteorologist, looking a bit tense in the backseat. She decided to switch things up.

“You know what, Ty?” Y/N said with a grin. “I think I’ll keep Lilly company in the other car. Javi can ride with you.”

Tyler glanced over, surprised, but nodded. “Sure, if that’s what you want. Just be careful, okay?”

Y/N leaned in for a quick kiss before hopping out and heading over to the other SUV where Lilly was prepping her equipment. Javi climbed into the front seat of Tyler’s truck, the two men exchanging a few words before pulling away to follow the storm.

Y/N slid into the passenger seat next to Lilly, who smiled gratefully. “Thanks for joining me. I was feeling a little out of my depth with this one.”

“No problem,” Y/N replied, fastening her seatbelt. “Let’s go catch this beast.”

As they sped down the road, the sky above them began to churn. The storm had grown rapidly, dark clouds swirling ominously as lightning flashed in the distance. The radio crackled with updates from Tyler and Javi, who were just ahead, urging everyone to stay alert.

“We’ve got rotation,” Tyler’s voice came over the radio. “It’s starting to drop. Be ready to reposition.”

Lilly’s hands tightened on the wheel as she drove, following the lead vehicle closely. Y/N could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins—the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of capturing something incredible.

But as they continued, the storm suddenly shifted, the tornado’s path veering unexpectedly. Y/N looked up, her eyes widening in horror as she realized the funnel was now headed directly toward them.

“Lilly, we need to move!” Y/N shouted, her voice edged with urgency.

Lilly swerved, trying to steer the SUV out of the tornado’s path, but it was too late. The powerful winds hit them with full force, lifting the vehicle off the ground. The world outside became a blur of chaos as the SUV flipped over, tumbling violently. Y/N felt a searing pain as she was thrown against the door, her vision going dark for a moment before everything went still.

Tyler’s heart stopped when he heard the crash over the radio. Javi, sensing the gravity of the situation, immediately tried to raise Y/N and Lilly, but there was no response. Tyler’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

“Y/N, Lilly—do you copy? Y/N!” Tyler’s voice was thick with fear, almost breaking. When there was no answer, panic clawed at his chest.

“Ty, we have to go back!” Javi urged, his voice tense. “They could be in serious trouble.”

Tyler didn’t need convincing. He whipped the truck around, tires screeching on the wet pavement, and gunned it back toward where Y/N and Lilly had been. The wind howled around them, debris flying across the road as the storm raged on.

Minutes felt like hours as they raced against the tornado, Tyler’s mind filled with images of Y/N hurt—or worse. He could barely breathe, the fear suffocating him. He’d never felt so helpless, the thought of losing her driving him to the brink of despair.

Finally, they spotted the overturned SUV in a field, half-buried in mud and debris. The tornado had moved on, leaving behind a path of destruction, but Tyler’s focus was solely on the wrecked vehicle and the two people inside.

He barely registered Javi’s voice as they jumped out of the truck and ran to the SUV. Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he frantically yanked at the door, which was jammed from the impact. With Javi’s help, they managed to pry it open, revealing a grim scene inside.

Lilly was conscious, dazed but moving. She was bruised and shaken but seemed otherwise okay. Y/N, however, was slumped against the door, her face pale and a gash on her forehead bleeding steadily. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as he reached out, his hands trembling.

“Y/N… Y/N, please…” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he gently cupped her face.

She stirred at his touch, her eyelids fluttering open. “Tyler…?”

Relief flooded through him so intensely that he almost collapsed. “I’m here, baby. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

Javi was already on the phone with emergency services, coordinating their location. Tyler carefully unbuckled Y/N and pulled her from the wreckage, holding her close as she winced in pain.

“Just hang on, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “Help’s on the way.”

She leaned against him, too weak to speak, but she clung to his hand as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Tyler could feel his tears welling up, but he held them back, focusing on keeping Y/N conscious and calm.

Lilly, despite her own injuries, managed to climb out of the SUV with Javi’s help. She was shaken but coherent, and she sat down on the grass beside Y/N, checking her over with what first-aid knowledge she had.

“Tyler,” Lilly said softly, her voice filled with sympathy. “She’s going to be okay. You got here in time.”

Tyler nodded, though the lump in his throat made it hard to speak. He didn’t trust himself to say anything without breaking down completely. Instead, he just held Y/N tightly, whispering reassurances and promises that everything would be okay.

The sound of approaching sirens was a welcome relief, and soon, paramedics were there, carefully taking Y/N from Tyler’s arms and loading her onto a stretcher. Tyler refused to leave her side, climbing into the ambulance with her, his hand never leaving hers.

As the ambulance sped toward the hospital, Tyler finally allowed himself to breathe. Y/N was alive, and she was going to get the care she needed. The fear that had gripped him so tightly began to ease, replaced by an overwhelming gratitude that they had found her in time.

Hours later, after what felt like an eternity in the hospital waiting room, Tyler was allowed to see Y/N. She was resting in a hospital bed, her head bandaged and her arm in a sling, but when she saw him, she managed a small, tired smile.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice weak but full of warmth.

Tyler moved to her side, sitting down and taking her hand in his. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” she admitted, wincing slightly. “But I’ll be okay. They said nothing’s broken, just a lot of bruises and a concussion.”

Tyler nodded, his eyes brimming with tears he could no longer hold back. “I was so scared, Y/N. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

She squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a comforting gesture. “I’m still here, Ty. Thanks to you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the day’s events settling over them. But now, in the safety of the hospital, with Y/N by his side, Tyler felt an immense sense of relief. They had faced the storm, and though they had come out battered and bruised, they were still together.

“I love you,” Tyler whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, her voice soft but sure. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

As they held each other close, the storm outside finally began to calm, the winds dying down as the skies cleared. The danger had passed, and now, all that mattered was that they were safe, together, and ready to face whatever came next—side by side.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens smut #dad!tyler owens

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months ago

Text

Pointless Protection

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: Gordon kidnaps you in 3x07, and you have your first asthma attack

“No sign of Gordon anywhere, and the sun’s going down soon.” Dean caught Sam up on his fruitless search, but Dean seemed distracted.

“He’ll be unstoppable,” Sam said.

“Yeah.” Dean wasn’t looking at Sam as he grabbed his bag and one of his guns. “You two stay here.”

“What?” Your head shot up from where you were sitting, but Sam beat you to the questioning.

“What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

“After Gordon.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Sam argued.

“Sam, he’s after you, not me, and I want both of you out of harm’s way,” Dean said.

“You—“ Sam cut himself off, gritting his teeth. “Y/N, go take a walk.”

“What?” You demanded. You knew instantly what this was about—Dean had been getting more and more reckless ever since his hell deal, and both brothers refused to talk about it with you around, like the topic of hell was too much for you to handle, even though your brother was going there in a matter of months. “No way, I—“

“Go,” Dean snapped.

“But—“

“C’mon.” Dean was already pushing you to the door. “Grown-up fight, come back later.”

“You can’t just—“

The door slammed in your face before you could finish.

…

You were fuming as you stomped away from the motel room and away from the parking lot. The chilly air bit into your skin as the sun sunk lower towards the horizon, but you barely even noticed.

Why did your brothers have to keep doing that? Keeping you from the important conversations, as if they didn’t affect you. You had so much you wanted to say to Dean; you wanted to tell him you hated how reckless he had become, you hated that he didn’t seem to care whether he lived or died because you cared.

But you never got the chance. It was like they didn’t trust you with the real stuff, as if they could keep you from this world and it’s dangers even though you were in it up to you neck—

Your racing thoughts were so distracting that you barely noticed it was getting dark until the sun was already disappearing and a cloak of darkness was thrown over the land.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, turning around instantly and rushing for the motel. If it was dark, that meant Gordon could be out. If Gordon was out…

You had to get ti the motel before he got to you.

…

“Fine,” Dean grumbled at last. “We’ll wait the night out in here, and go after Gordon together.” They’d been burning sage in the room all day so Gordon couldn’t track their scent.

“Good.” Sam huffed. “Now let’s get—“ Sam barely cracked the door open before he realized the problem. “Dean, it’s dark out.”

“What?!” Dean jumped up. “Y/N’s still in the parking lot, right?”

“I-I don’t—“ Sam took another step out the door, glancing around frantically. “Y/N!” He called out into the night air, but he got no reply. Before he could yell again, Dean’s phone rang.

“You’ve had that phone all of two hours, Dean,” Sam said. They’d gotten new phones when they’d realized that Gordon could track the old ones. “Who’d you give the number to?” he asked.

“Nobody.” Dean frowned. “Maybe it’s Y/N.” He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey there, Dean,” Gordon, sounding much too happy, greeted.

“How did you get this number?” Dean snapped.

“Your scent’s all over the phone store,” Gordon explained. “But I lost the scent. It doesn’t matter though—you’re going to find me.”

“Right,” Dean scoffed. “If this is all you’ve got, I’ve got better things to do.” Dean was about to hang up, but he stopped when Gordon spoke again.

“Actually that’s not all I have.” There was a moment of rustling on the other end of the phone.

“Dean?”

A shudder went through Dean’s body at the sound of your terrified voice.

“Y/N?”

“Dean—I’m sorry De, he came out of nowhere. Don’t do what he wants, I’m—“

“Ok that’s enough.” Gordon’s voice cut off yours, but Dean could hear you crying and protesting in the background.

“Gordon—“ Dean gritted his teeth, trying to tamp down his fury. “This isn’t about her, leave her alone.”

Gordon was unfazed. “Factory on Riverside off the turnpike. Be here in twenty minutes, or your sister dies.”

“Don’t—“ Dean’s voice was cut off by the click of the phone. He didn’t waste a second, turning immediately to Sam. “Gordon has her. We have to go.”

…

“Why won’t you just shut up?” Gordon growled. He was pacing like a caged animal, rubbing his head as if that would help that fact that he’d been turned into a supernatural creature that could hear everything within a mile radius and was blinded by moonlight.

“Just let me go,” you pleaded. You’d struggled against the ropes that bound you, but all you got for it was bloody wrists. “Sam isn’t what you think he is, you don’t have to do this!”

“Shut up!” He snapped. “Your brother is a monster, and now thanks to this chase, I am too!”

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeated.

“Aren’t you listening?” He barked. “I’m not a Hunter anymore, I’m a vampire!”

“Being a monster isn’t about what you are,” you snapped, somehow finding enough bravery inside you to speak what you’d been thinking ever since you found out about Sam’s demon blood. “It’s about what you do!”

Your speech didn’t matter; Gordon wasn’t listening anymore. His head was tilted slightly, like he was trying to pick up on a faraway sound.

“Your big brothers are here to save you,” he said, reaching forwards and tying a gag around your mouth. “I’m sure this will end with all of you dead—you Winchesters seem like the type to go out together. Just remember this; I did try to warn you about Sam.”

You couldn’t say anything in response, so you just had to watch as Gordon stalked around, prepared to kill your brothers the moment they came in to save you.

…

“Gordon!” Dean’s machete was clenched tightly in his fist as he stepped into the darkened warehouse. “We’re here, now let her go!”

“I can’t do that, Dean.” Gordon’s voice echoed around the steel walls, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Not until Sammy’s dead.”

“Dean!” Sam’s voice grabbed Dean’s attention. “She’s over here!”

Dean rushed to his brother, getting there in time to see Sam pull your gag down and start untying the ropes that held your blood-soaked wrists in a vice grip. Seeing the blood drip down your hands set Dean’s teeth on edge, and he wanted nothing more than to rip Gordon’s head off.

Barely had the violent thought crossed Dean’s mind before Gordon came out of nowhere, tackling Sam to the ground before he could finish freeing you.

“Sam!” You whimpered, struggling against your bonds.

Dean jumped into the fray, knocking Gordon off his little brother but missing when he swung with the machete.

“De—“ you tried to call out for your big brother, but your breath caught on the word, and you found yourself gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Your chest felt tight, and each micro breath was less satisfying than the one before it. Sam locked eyes with you for a split second, and seemed to notice your struggling, but he was quickly distracted when Gordon managed to knock Dean away and went after Sam again.

You focused your energy back on the ropes binding you—Sam had managed to loosen one arm—and with a painful jerk, you were free. However, you’d been leaning hard against the ropes, so when your arm came free you nearly fell out of the chair, the still-tight rope on your other arm keeping you painfully still.

You tried to untie your left hand, but your fingers couldn’t get a good grip on the rope, and your vision was starting to go foggy as your battle for breath continued to fail.

You kept hearing grunts of exertion and pain from the other side of the room, but it was too dark to see and the sounds seemed to all blend together, so you had no idea who was winning the fight.

What was worse than the sounds of the fight was the silence when they stopped. The only sound you heard was the echoing rattle of your breaths.

“Hey—“ you nearly screamed when a face appeared in front of you, but all you did was let out a whimper as you blinked and realized it was Dean. “It’s ok, just breathe. We’re getting you out of here, kid.”

“I ca…I can’t…” the words could barely escape as you struggled for each breath.

“Ok, hey it’s ok,” Dean soothed. “We’ll get you to a hospital, ok? They’re gonna help you breathe, you’re gonna be just fine.”

“Gordon’s dead.” Sam was suddenly at your other side, untying your hand. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Sam lifted you into his arms without bothering to see if you could stand, and Dean followed behind as Sam carried you to the Impala.

“Her wrists are pretty bad,” Sam said as Dean started up the Impala. Sam was sitting with you in the back—something he never did—and assessing your injuries. “Those ropes were really tight. I’m gonna have to clean them up before we get to the hospital, I don’t want them asking questions we can’t answer.”

You continued to wheeze and tremble as Sam painstakingly cleaned your wrists and wrapped them in bandages.

“Here,” he said, wrapping you up in his jacket and making sure the sleeves hung down so the bandages were hidden. “You’re gonna be ok, just keep breathing.”

“We’re almost there,” Dean promised. “We’re almost there.”

…

“Does she have any allergies.”

“What? No.” Dean was getting incredibly impatient with the doctor as you continued to struggle for breath beside him. They’d made sure you weren’t being turned into a vampire already, so they figured whatever was happening to you had to be physical, not supernatural. “Would you just help her?”

“I’m trying,” the doctor assured him patiently. “But I need to know what brought this on.”

“I…she was—she—“ Dean couldn’t think of a good explanation, so Sam jumped in.

“She was scared,” Sam said. “Having a nightmare.”

“I see.” The doctor pursed her lips. “Does she have asthma.”

“No, she—“ Dean stopped short. “I don’t—I don’t think so. I mean she gets out of breath pretty quickly when she exercises, but I never thought—“

“It’s possible for the symptoms to be mild for years,” the doctor told him, then turned to you. “Does your chest feel tight right now?”

You nodded.

“And does the same thing happen when you run?”

“Not—“ you wheezed. “Never this bad.”

“Ok, ok.” The doctor turned her back on the trio of siblings and picked up an inhaler from off the table. “I thought it might be this, so if you’re sure it isn’t any allergy, this should help you quickly.” She shook up the inhaler as she neared you. “Now, once I spray this I want you to hold your breath for a few seconds, try to breathe in, and then breathe out if you can. Alright?”

You didn’t feel up to trying to talk, so you just nodded.

“Ok, good. Close your mouth around this,” she said, holding the mouthpiece to your lips. She pressed the canister down, and you followed her instructions, holding your breath before breathing in and out.

“Better?” Dean asked, seeming to hold his own breath.

“It’ll take a few minutes,” the doctor said. “Just give her some space and we’ll see if she starts to feel better.”

Sure enough, in a few minutes your chest began to feel lighter and more open, and your breathing was easier.

“Better?” The word came out of Dean like a sigh of relief, because he could already see how much easier your breathing was. You knew he was still worried that Gordon had done something to you, so asthma was a relief.

“Better,” you told him.

“Ok.” The doctor nodded. “You’ll need to get her an inhaler if she ever has another asthma attack or difficulty breathing.” She handed a prescription to Dean, who held tightly to it like it was a lifeline.

“So we can go?” Sam asked.

“Yes. She’ll probably be tired for another few hours, even days, so pay attention and give her another dose with the inhaler if she needs it.”

“Thanks,” Dean said briskly, grabbing your hand and leading you out.”

The three of you managed to slip out the back door before anyone could catch you and ask about paperwork. Dean went to the office next door to get your inhaler, and when he returned to the Impala he tore the small bag open and tucked the inhaler into his jacket pocket.

“Isn’t that for me?” You demanded.

“Are you kidding?” Dean scoffed. “You’d lose it. I’ll keep it safe for you. Just let me know if you need it, ok?”

“Fine,” you huffed, and Dean rolled his eyes. The inside of the car was quiet for a few minutes as Dean drove away from the hospital, but eventually he spoke up again.

“You really scared us there, kid.”

“That’s what you get for kicking me out of the motel room,” you grumbled.

Dean opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

“I’m in this life,” you pushed on. “I’ve always been in it. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“Yes I can,” Dean snapped.

“No you can’t,” you insisted. “You can’t protect me from you going to hell. Don’t act like that doesn’t affect me too, Dean. It does.”

The car fell into silence again, and you thought Dean was ignoring you.

“Ok,” Dean said. “I won’t kick you out next time. But don’t think that means I won’t keep protecting you. And when—“ Dean cleared his throat. “And when I’m gone, that’s gonna be Sammy’s job. So don’t give him this much attitude about it, ok?”

You forced yourself to smile, hoping it would veil the sadness in your eyes.

“It’s a deal.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you

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joelsrose · 6 months ago

Text

Guns and Roses: Chapter 4

my fave chapter so farrr

TW: emotional abuse/emotionally abusive relationship, swearing, gaslighting, body image/insecurity, mean not fun words

masterlist

Summary: As the warmth of spring sets in, a day at the lake offers a rare moment of vulnerability between the two. Guards are lowered, emotions come to the surface, and it feels like a turning point—until something happens testing the fragile connection, leaving more hurt in their wake than before.

The first time Joel saw you, it felt like the air around him thickened, freezing him in place. It wasn’t the snow falling gently outside, blanketing the ground in quiet softness—it was the sight of you, standing there with your back to him. Your brown hair caught the dim light, and for one devastating moment, he thought of Tess. That same brown, the same fall of hair down your back, made his heart stutter. He swallowed hard, chest tightening. It had only been a day since he’d arrived in Jackson, and he was still adjusting. His eyes locked on you, memories rushing in, ones he fought every day to bury.

But then you turned. It wasn’t her. Of course, it wasn’t her. It was you. And for some reason, that realization hit him even harder. You were beautiful in a way that made something inside Joel lurch and crack. He tore his gaze away, barely listening as Tommy droned on about the layout of the dining hall, each word just a dull hum against the storm inside Joel’s mind. That beauty—the kind he couldn’t allow himself to feel anything for—had him gripping the reins of his self-control with white-knuckled fists. He could feel his heart drumming in his chest, and he was disturbed at how much your sheer presence had unraveled him. It was dangerous to feel this way, especially here, especially now, and he hated how his control was slipping, the tension in his jaw betraying just how affected he was.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“I need some air,” he muttered, voice hoarse, cutting off Tommy mid-sentence. Without waiting for a response, Joel pushed through the back door into the cold.

The snow fell in slow, lazy swirls, the air biting into his skin. He stood there, hands braced against the rough wood of a post, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. It wasn’t the cold making him shiver—it was the flood of memories crashing down on him, images of Tess tearing through his mind with relentless force. Her voice, her face, her eyes the last day they’d spent together… and that bite. That awful, rotting wound on her neck, raw and swollen. The edges of the bite were ragged, torn where the infection had begun its merciless spread. The skin around it was discolored, veins darkened and creeping like tendrils of sickness, the center festering with oozing blood. It had been a gruesome, final mark—a sight that made Joel’s stomach lurch, knowing it was the end. That memory clawed at him now, cutting deeper than the cold ever could.

“I never asked you to feel the things I felt.”

Tess’s words echoed through his mind like a curse. He had tried to shake them off back then, tried to bury the guilt and pain deep down where he wouldn’t have to face it. But no matter how hard he tried, it clung to him, a weight that refused to let go. His fingers dug deeper into the rough wood of the post, as if somehow it could anchor him, provide the stability he so desperately craved.

But it didn’t.

The turmoil inside him raged on, unstoppable. She had loved him—he knew that now, too late—and he had felt something for her too. What that feeling was, he couldn’t quite name. But it had scared him, terrified him enough to push her away when she’d needed him most.

Now you stood there, inside the dim lighting of the dining hall, a stranger who didn’t even know him yet, whose eyes hadn’t met his, whose name hadn’t passed his lips. And that terrified him. You were an unknown, someone untouched by the weight of his past, and somehow that made it worse.

His chest tightened further, his hand coming up to rest against his heart.

He felt like he was dying.

His mind spun back to Tess—her trembling hands, her last look, that fierce determination as she made him leave. The fear in her eyes— a type of fear he had never seen from her before—haunted him. He had failed her. And he couldn’t survive failing someone again.

It took him longer than he would have liked to pull himself together, but eventually, the deep breaths began to work. He opened his eyes, the world coming back into focus, and straightened. Tess’s ghost would always linger, but he couldn’t let her memory break him.

When he stepped back inside, the warmth hit him, though it did nothing to ease the tension coiling in his chest. His eyes immediately found you, your soft smile catching him off guard. The kind that could ruin him if he let it.

“Joel, this is—” Tommy’s voice faded into the background again as you stepped forward, extending a hand. You introduced yourself, but the sound of your name barely registered. All he could feel was the warmth of your hand in his, so soft against the roughness of his own.

It was then he made a decision—a choice he knew he couldn’t take back.

He would keep you at arm’s length. No matter how kind or good you seemed, no matter how much the softness in your eyes tempted him to care, he couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t let you in. Because if you got close—if you really got close—you could leave. You could break his heart, make him feel things he swore he’d never let himself feel again.

Or worse, he would disappoint you.

He’d prove to himself, and to you, that the darkest, deepest parts of his mind were right—that he was a failure of a man.

So, right then and there, as he let go of your hand and forced himself to step back, Joel decided he would do whatever it took to keep you far, far away. He’d be cold, distant, and harsh. He’d make sure you knew your place, even if it wasn’t the truth. Letting you in would mean risking everything he’d built to keep himself together.

And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen again.

•••

You were asleep, but it didn’t feel like sleep. Your dream state and reality blurred together, hazy and disorienting. Your body felt heavy, the sheets twisted around you as the familiar dread settled in—a feeling you knew too well. In your mind, you were back in that kitchen, the light dim, the air thick.

You stood in the kitchen, hands trembling as you clutched the edges of the countertop. It was a small thing—a forgotten grocery item. You’d said you were sure you mentioned needing more milk, but he stared at you with that cold, detached look he always got when things weren’t going his way.

“I don’t know why you always do this,” he said, his voice low but edged with accusation. “You never said anything about milk.”

“I did… I swear I did,” you murmured, your voice faltering as doubt crept in. Did you forget? No, you were sure. Weren’t you?

He shook his head, letting out a condescending laugh. “You always make up these things to make me feel like I’m the one who’s wrong. It’s like you enjoy confusing me.”

Your stomach knotted, the familiar fog of guilt settling over you. “I’m not trying to confuse you. I just thought—”

“You’re always thinking the wrong things, aren’t you?” His voice softened, but it wasn’t comforting. It was dismissive, like you were too simple to even get something this basic right. “Maybe if you paid attention once in a while, we wouldn’t have these problems.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words sticking like thorns. The argument wasn’t about the milk anymore—it was about how you were always the problem, always the one messing things up. No matter what you said, you couldn’t win. He made you question your memory, your intentions, even your sanity.

And then he’d turn it around. He’d wrap an arm around you, his voice shifting to that soothing, fake-sweet tone. “I just want you to be better, that’s all. For us. I’m only saying this because I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of your temple, the gesture so tender, yet it made your skin crawl. The warmth of his lips felt wrong, like a tainted affection that only deepened the pit in your stomach.

But it didn’t feel like love. It felt like you were sinking.

You jolted awake, heart racing, chest tight, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat. The dream had felt so real, like you were right there again, trapped in that endless loop of doubt and guilt. The remnants of his voice still clung to your mind, refusing to fade, making it hard to breathe. It was only when your eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall, its hands pointing to 8:02, that you were pulled back into reality.

But even reality offered little relief. The dream had only stirred up Joel's words—the ones that cut just as deeply as your ex’s had. Except Joel had been more direct, more confrontational, less insidious, but still brutal in a way that made you question everything. It had been two long, restless weeks since that conversation in the stables—two weeks of replaying every word, every glance, every breath. And now, all you could think was, why? Why had Joel bothered? Why hadn’t he just kept hating you like before? You’d grown accustomed to the cold indifference, to the distance he had maintained so carefully, like a wall between you both. But now, there was something unsettling in the space between you, something confusing and raw.

His biting words echoed alongside the voices from your past—the same ones that had always made you doubt yourself, made you question if you could ever truly trust someone who could hurt you so deeply, only to turn around and apologize as if it could erase the pain. No matter how many logs he stacked or doors he repaired, you weren’t sure you could move past it.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself out of bed, hoping the morning routine might dull the weight of the dream. It wasn’t until you were brushing your hair that Maria’s invitation to the lake came back to you. The lake, an hour or so outside of Jackson, had been patrolled recently—no signs of infected, no danger, just the promise of calm waters and a quiet escape. The idea of cooling off in the lake’s embrace felt like a lifeline, especially with the oppressive spring heat pressing down, making the air feel thick and suffocating. You could feel the humidity clinging to your skin, beads of sweat gathering at the nape of your neck as the relentless sun bore down, almost punishing. The lake sounded like a reprieve, a chance to cool off and, maybe, push the heavy thoughts aside for a little while.

But when Maria mentioned Joel, you hesitated. Your heart gave a traitorous flutter, and she noticed it instantly—the way your smile faltered just slightly, the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. You could feel her gaze lingering on you, sharp and perceptive.

“I can ask Tommy not to invite Joel and Ellie?” Maria offered gently, though there was something in her gaze—an unspoken understanding, as if she could sense the hesitation you tried so hard to hide.

You forced a smile, shaking your head as if the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. “No, it’s fine. Really.”

Was it fine? You weren’t sure. After everything, after weeks of coldness followed by... whatever this was? You didn’t know if you could handle that yet. The tension, the confusion that gnawed at you whenever you were near him, had only grown worse since that day.

Maria placed a hand on your arm, her expression soft but with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she teased, grinning. “We’ll leave him out there if he says anything outta line.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. A small laugh escaped you, the tension easing slightly. After all, why should Joel’s presence stop you from enjoying yourself? You’d been through enough—why let him take this from you, too? This was your chance to unwind, to escape the weight of your thoughts, even if just for a day.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen, if only a little.

But now that knot was back, tightening in your stomach as you stood in front of the mirror, eyeing the bikini Maria had brought over. It was beautiful, crafted from leftover fabric she’d skillfully pieced together, but it hugged your curves tighter than you were used to. The way it fit made you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Memories flooded in, unwanted but persistent—your ex’s voice creeping into your mind. “You should stop wearing stuff like that. It’s too revealing,” he’d said more than once, his tone always sharp, always judgmental. And then the comments about your body, the ones that stung more than you’d ever let him know. “Maybe if you went to the gym more, you’d feel better about yourself.”

The echo of his words made your throat tighten, the familiar shame creeping up. You tugged at the straps, trying to adjust them, but it didn’t help. With a sigh, you slipped on a pair of shorts and a loose tank top, hoping the extra layers might ease the discomfort. The reflection staring back at you felt foreign, as if you were seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes—his eyes.

You took one last glance in the mirror, forcing yourself to turn away before you second-guessed everything again. If you didn’t walk out now, you knew you’d never make it out the door.

But as you walked over to the stables, where you’d all agreed to meet, the thought of seeing Joel tightened something in your chest. You didn’t know where the two of you stood after his apology—whether his words had truly changed anything. You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him. You weren’t even sure if you could forgive him. And that was the worst part of it—the not knowing. The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you caught in the uneasy space between anger and hurt.

•••

When you arrived, Tommy and Maria were already waiting, gently petting the horses in front of them. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them, their chemistry unmistakable. They knew each other like the back of their hands—Maria could keep Tommy in check with just a glance, and Tommy always found a way to make her laugh, even in the quietest moments. It was hard not to admire how natural it seemed, the effortless ease between them.

“Hey, sunshine,” Tommy called out, his grin wide and familiar, that teasing nickname he always had for you wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you teased back, walking over, feeling a little lighter in their presence.

“You excited for today?” Tommy asked, leaning against the stable post with his arms casually crossed, that easygoing smirk never leaving his face.

“Yeah,” you laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension from your shoulders. “The heat’s been killing me, so a day by the lake sounds like heaven right now.”

Maria chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes twinkling with that familiar warmth. “You and me both. It’s about time we all get a break.”

For a brief moment, the lightness of their company made you forget the weight pressing on your chest. The easy banter, the smiles, the sense of normalcy—it almost felt like you could relax. But then, as the conversation flowed around you, your eyes instinctively scanned the stables, your heart bracing for it. You knew he would be there. You could feel it in your bones, that unsettling awareness growing stronger.

And just like that, the moment you were dreading arrived.

Joel.

He appeared behind Ellie, who greeted everyone with her usual energy, but his presence weighed heavier. You felt it instantly. Your eyes met his for just a fleeting second, but it was enough to send your pulse racing, doubt creeping in—suddenly, this felt like a bad idea.

“Alright, let’s get these horses sorted,” Tommy said, clapping his hands with a grin, either oblivious to—or purposely ignoring—the tension crackling between you and Joel. “Looks like we’re gonna have to do some sharing.” His grin faded into an exaggerated frown as if he were considering the situation seriously, but it was obvious what he was up to.

“Tommy—” Maria started, narrowing her eyes at him, already suspicious. But he cut her off, making a big show of inspecting one of the horses.

“Yeah, uh, one of the horses has a bad leg,” Tommy said, his tone overly casual, waving his hand toward the stable like he was some expert in equine care. “So me, Maria, and Ellie can take one horse, and…” He let the words hang, his eyes flicking between you and Joel with barely contained mischief. “You two will share the other.”

The second those words left his mouth, you and Joel both jumped to object.

“No, I can—”

“Hold on—” Joel started, his voice rough and low, clearly as unhappy with the arrangement as you were.

But Tommy raised his hand, already prepared for the protest. “Now, now, I know what you’re both thinking—‘Tommy, we don’t need to share.’ But look, it’s a real delicate situation with that horse. Can’t risk it limping all the way out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the stable, where the perfectly fine horse stood, as if its imaginary injury were a life-or-death matter. “Besides,” he added, eyes gleaming with mischief, “Maria and I never get to hang out with Ellie.”

Which was a flat-out lie.

Maria groaned, rubbing her temples, while Ellie snickered from behind her hand, thoroughly enjoying the scene.

Tommy’s grin was shameless, and despite every excuse you and Joel tried to form, you both knew there was no talking your way out of this one. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was fine. You were both adults. A short horse ride wasn’t the end of the world. It was only an hour, after all—60 minutes, 3,600 seconds. How bad could that be?

Right?

Joel cleared his throat, his expression unreadable, but his body language gave him away—his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched. It was painfully obvious this was the last thing he wanted. But there was no backing out now—not without making things even more awkward.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice rough as he extended a hand to help you onto the horse. You hesitated for a moment, the thought crossing your mind—I can get on a horse by myself—but you kept quiet. Instead, you took his hand. Your fingers barely grazed his before he pulled away quickly, almost as if the touch had burned him. He couldn’t even meet your eyes. Was he that disgusted by you?

You tried to push the thought away, focusing instead on moving back in the saddle as Joel climbed up in front of you with a groan. The scent of leather and earth clung to him, familiar and unsettling all at once. The space between you felt impossibly small, too intimate, as your knees brushed against his sides. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some distance, but no matter how you moved, it was never enough. You were close—too close—and there was no escaping it now.

•••

The ride was quiet. Too quiet. The distant voices of Ellie and the others ahead were little more than murmurs now, their laughter and chatter fading as you and Joel lagged behind. You kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap, determined not to touch him more than absolutely necessary.

But the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait made that resolve harder to keep. With each sway, you felt yourself slipping, your balance faltering as the horse moved beneath you. No matter how hard you tried to steady yourself, your body would tilt forward with every step, brushing against Joel again. The warmth radiating from him, the solidness of his frame, was impossible to ignore, and it only quickened your pulse.

You gritted your teeth, concentrating on staying upright. It was taking everything—your core muscles burning from the effort of holding yourself steady, your thighs clamping down on the horse’s sides to keep yourself in place. The heat wasn’t helping either; the oppressive sun bore down, and sweat beaded along your brow. The combination of the heat and the constant motion made your body ache with effort.

“Would you just—” Joel’s voice cut through the thick silence, low and laced with frustration. He turned to glance at you briefly, his eyes narrowed with irritation, and even in that fleeting look, you could see the tension in his shoulders. “You’re gonna fall off the damn horse if you don’t hold on.”

His words were sharper than necessary, rough and unyielding, but there was something beneath the surface. It wasn’t just annoyance—it was something else. Like he hated that he had to care, that he couldn’t just let it go.

What did it matter to him if you fell off the horse? Why did he care at all?

You hesitated, hovering for a moment before finally giving in, wrapping your arms around his waist. The heat of his body was immediate, the solid weight of him grounding you in a way that took you by surprise. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and your heart pounded in rhythm with the horse’s steady steps. Neither of you spoke, the silence thick, broken only by the rhythmic clop of hooves and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Finally, the lake came into view, its waters shimmering under the midday sun, a sight that should have been a relief. As you loosened your grip on Joel, you felt a strange mix of emotions—relief tinged with something else, something more difficult to name. Something stirred beneath the surface—something visceral, raw, that you hadn’t even realized was there until now.

•••

You waited for Joel to dismount first, watching as he landed with that quiet, grounded grace he always seemed to have. Just as you were about to slide off the horse on your own, you noticed him turn back toward you, his hand extended. Your eyebrows shot up involuntarily, the gesture catching you off guard. Joel offering help wasn’t something you were used to.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, but before you could overthink it, Joel stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he guided you down. The contact was steady, his grip firm but not rough, and the unexpected warmth of his touch sent a ripple through you. You barely had time to react before your feet hit the ground.

“Thanks,” you mumbled softly, your voice more sheepish than you’d intended. The touch was brief, but enough to linger, your heart beating a little faster than it should.

You quickly stepped back, letting go of his hand and focusing on steadying yourself while Joel moved to tie up the horse. From a distance, Maria caught your eye, raising her eyebrows in a silent question—You okay? You nodded quickly, offering her a small, reassuring smile before turning your gaze to the shimmering lake, hoping it would calm the whirlwind of feelings stirring inside you.

The water sparkled under the midday sun, the surface glistening like a thousand diamonds scattered across the blue expanse. It was beautiful—peaceful in a way that made you momentarily forget the awkwardness and tension lingering around you. A soft smile spread across your face as you took in the sight, the warmth of the day finally settling into your bones.

Ellie, unsurprisingly, was the first to dive in, her energetic somersault sending a splash echoing across the quiet landscape, jolting you from your thoughts. You laughed, shaking your head as she resurfaced with a triumphant grin, water dripping from her hair and eyes shining with pride.

“Show-off,” you called out, a smile tugging at your lips as Ellie splashed around, her carefree spirit contagious.

"She’s something, ain’t she?" you said to Maria as she came up beside you.

Maria chuckled softly. "Yeah, she keeps us all on our toes, that’s for sure," she replied with a grin, peeling off her outer layers to reveal the swimsuit underneath.

"You coming?" she asked, glancing over at you as she adjusted her straps.

“In a second,” you responded with a smile, watching as made her way to the lake.

"Don't take too long!" Maria called back with a grin as she entered the water, instantly enveloped by Tommy’s arms, their playful splashes and laughter ringing through the air. There was a carefree joy in their movements, a natural ease that spoke of years spent together, of shared moments and quiet understanding.

For a moment, a familiar pang of loneliness settled deep in your chest. You’d always been good at hiding it, masking it behind independence and keeping yourself busy. But being around couples like Tommy and Maria—watching the effortless way they moved together, the love they shared so openly—reminded you of something you had long buried, or at least tried to. The ache of wanting that kind of closeness, of sharing your life with someone who truly knew you, hit harder than you expected, leaving you feeling more exposed than the summer heat could explain. But with the promise of love came the risk of vulnerability—the fear of being too much or not enough. The idea of opening yourself up like that, of letting someone in, carried a weight you weren’t sure you were ready to bear.

Shaking off the feeling, you bent down to unlace your boots, slipping out of your shorts and tank top. Your swimwear hugged your body a little too tightly, making you feel self-conscious under the sun’s glaring light. It had been years since you’d felt truly confident in your body—before the words that had forever changed the way you saw yourself, leaving invisible scars behind.

You assumed Joel was still occupied with tying up the horses, his back turned to the group. But as you straightened up, you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of it unmistakable. His presence, always so quiet and watchful, sent the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

You turned slightly, catching Joel’s eyes trailing over your body before he quickly averted his gaze. But not quickly enough. That brief look—just a flicker of something in his eyes—sent a rush of heat through you. Suddenly, you felt shy, arms wrapping around yourself instinctively, as if you could shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. You had never expected to feel exposed around him, never thought his glance would affect you like this. Yet here you were, standing at the edge of the lake, completely thrown off by the raw intensity of the moment.

Joel cleared his throat, the sound breaking the thick silence between you. His hand remained on the horse’s reins, gripping them tightly as though he needed something solid to ground himself. His face gave nothing away, but the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly, betrayed him. It felt like he was holding something back—something unspoken.

You thought you heard him murmur something under his breath, too quiet to catch. Whatever it was, it sent a ripple of tension through the air, making you even more aware of the shift between you. He didn’t meet your eyes again, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever he had whispered was meant to stay unsaid. The moment hung between you, heavy and uncertain, leaving you more unsettled than before.

You took a step toward the lake, needing something—anything—to pull you away from the weight of that moment, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes still lingering on you. Even as you walked, his gaze felt like a tangible presence, and it took all your effort not to glance back.

You stepped into the cool water, the sharp contrast against the heat of the day sending a shiver through your body. The chill was refreshing, grounding you as it enveloped your skin. Ellie, of course, was quick to start splashing you, her laughter echoing across the lake, wild and infectious. She spun through the water with boundless energy, her joy impossible to resist.

Tommy and Maria soon joined in, their playful banter filling the air, and for a brief moment, you let yourself be swept up in it. You laughed, dodging Ellie’s relentless splashes, the cool water against your skin making you feel lighter. For those few minutes, the tension eased, and all that mattered was the simple joy of being in the water, laughing alongside them.

But from the shore, Joel watched—quiet, steady, and distant, his eyes following your every move, even if he tried to hide it.

Joel’s POV:

He couldn’t stop himself from looking. Couldn’t stop himself from noticing every little thing about you—the way your small hands had clung to him on the horse, the heat of your grip still lingering on his skin. And now, there you stood, at the edge of the lake, exposed under the bright sun, bare in a way that made it hard to breathe. His eyes traced your form, and before he could stop himself, he muttered under his breath, “Fucking hell.”

The way your gaze had held him, the way you moved—it was undoing him. Every ounce of distance he had fought tooth and nail to keep, every wall he had meticulously constructed, crumbled in an instant. Months of hard-earned control, months of convincing himself that he didn’t care, that you didn’t matter, shattered with just one look. He had thought he was safe, thought keeping you at arm’s length would protect him, would be enough to keep you away. He thought if he could just say the right things, those cruel, cutting words—the ones that slashed through you, calling you a burden—it would be enough to drive you away for good.

And it had worked. He saw the way your face crumpled when he said it, the way your heart seemed to break right in front of him. That moment had haunted him ever since, the memory clawing at him in the dead of night. If he had truly wanted to keep you away, he should’ve stopped there. He shouldn’t have fixed your door. He shouldn’t have apologized. Hell, he shouldn’t have come here today, where every glance at you was undoing him in ways he couldn’t stop.

But here he was, watching you, and realizing it had never been enough.

You had wormed your way into him, past every defense he’d spent years perfecting, twisting something deep inside him—something he thought he’d buried so far down it couldn’t ever resurface. But you’d found it. You slipped through cracks he didn’t even know existed, without even meaning to, and now, watching you, he felt everything unravel. The walls, the distance, the control—it was all crumbling around him, and the worst part was, he couldn’t stop it.

He didn’t know if he even wanted to anymore.

Then, you stepped into the lake, and it stopped him cold. The sun caught your hair, turning it to gold as you waded through the cool water, the surface rippling around you like silk. Your cheeks were flushed with a rosy pink from the sun, your skin smooth as it peeked through the water’s surface, glistening in the light. Your laughter—light and unburdened—floated across the air, so carefree, it felt like a melody he didn’t deserve to hear. You were radiant, glowing with a joy he hadn’t seen in you before—not around him, anyway. A small, unbidden smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, slipping through the cracks of the guard he kept so carefully in place.

It wasn’t just this moment that cut through him; it was the memories. Seeing you around Jackson, time and time again, he tried to keep you from occupying his thoughts—and failed every single time. From the very beginning, from the first time he saw you in the dining hall, your presence had unsettled him, and it hadn’t gotten easier since. He remembered the first patrol you’d taken together—how he had to force himself not to look at you for too long. How he silently berated himself for letting that raider get so close to you. He thought of the time he’d cut his hand open, and how you’d carefully stitched him up. He would’ve rather let the hand fall off than have you that close, because it did something to him, something he couldn’t afford to feel.

He would catch glimpses of you at the stables, in the market, moving through town with that same smile you wore so easily. You were kind, always kind—and he had been nothing but cruel to you.

And that’s when it hit him—guilt, sharp and brutal. Seeing you like this, so free, so happy, twisted something deep inside him, because he knew. He knew that, more often than not, his presence had cast a shadow over you. You were better without him. Lighter. And damn if that didn’t burn more than anything else.

"Joel!" Tommy’s voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. "You gonna stand by that damn horse all day or join us?"

Joel blinked, realizing Tommy and Maria were both staring at him, grins on their faces. Ellie floated nearby, splashing water aimlessly. He narrowed his eyes at Tommy, his usual scowl slipping into place, but Tommy just raised an eyebrow in challenge, undeterred.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, pushing off the tree where the horse was tied. His feet felt heavy as he walked toward the edge of the lake, the tightness in his chest growing with each step he took toward the water—and toward you.

You were there, just a little ways from the others, your back turned to him as you floated peacefully, completely unaware of the way his gaze lingered. The sun glistened off the surface of the water, highlighting the smooth curve of your shoulders, the way your hair clung to your neck. His chest tightened further.

Without a word, Joel reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—the air felt thick, like even the wind was holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

Just as he pulled the shirt off, you glanced over your shoulder, and for a heartbeat, your eyes locked. The lake, the people, the sounds of laughter all faded into the background as that unspoken tension settled between you again, thick and palpable.

He hesitated, shirt in hand, the water lapping at the edges of his boots. And you were looking at him—not with annoyance or indifference, but with something that made his chest tighten. Something he hadn’t expected to see in your eyes.

Joel finally pulled his shirt off, and your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The way his body moved, the sheer strength in his broad shoulders and muscular arms, was hard to ignore. His skin was tanned and weathered, a testament to years of hard labor and survival. Scars traced across his chest—some faded, others fresher—each one a silent story of the battles he’d fought, and won. They crisscrossed over his skin like a map of pain and endurance.

Despite the roughness, he looked good—better than you had ever let yourself imagine. His body was broad, solid, and the soft swell of his abdomen triggered a heat between your legs. His skin gleamed under the sunlight, the muscles in his back shifting as he tossed the shirt aside, his jaw clenched in that familiar, determined way.

And then you realized what you were doing—biting your lip as your gaze lingered too long on the way the sun kissed his skin, how his body moved. Heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment creeping in as you quickly turned away, but not before he caught you looking.

He stepped into the water the cool lake seemed to welcome him as he waded in, the ripples spreading around his legs, the water shimmering against his tanned skin. You couldn’t stop watching—how could you?—as he drew closer, the water now lapping at his waist, glistening droplets clinging to the lines of his body.

You forced yourself to tear your gaze away, swallowing the heat that had suddenly risen in your chest. Turning back to Ellie, you splashed her playfully, hoping the cool water would distract you from the sudden tightness in your throat, the strange warmth creeping across your skin.

But it was hard to ignore the feeling that the temperature had gotten hotter—not from the sun, but from something else entirely.

•••

You had been in the lake for what felt like hours, the cool water a soothing contrast against your warm skin, your fingers slowly pruning from the time spent submerged. Your hair floated softly around your shoulders, catching the fading light as the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over everything. The sky had shifted into breathtaking hues of pink and orange, the kind of beauty that made the world feel still for just a moment.

Ellie, Tommy, and Maria had already climbed out of the lake, their laughter echoing as they made their way to dry off. You half-expected Joel to follow them, to leave the water behind, to leave you behind. You braced yourself for the sound of him moving through the water, for the quiet splash that would signal his retreat. But it never came.

Instead, silence stretched between you, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against your skin. The lake suddenly felt smaller, like it was closing in around you both, as if the world had narrowed until it was just the two of you, floating in the stillness.

Then, without warning, you felt it—the gentle current, or perhaps something else, pulling you closer to him. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the space between you shrank until your body drifted into his. The contact was soft at first, barely there—a brush of skin, a collision of warmth in the coolness of the lake.

“Sorry,” you murmured, the word slipping out as your heart pounded in your chest. You moved to pull away, but before you could, his hands found your waist, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you in place. His fingers curled around your hips—not possessive, but steady—like he was anchoring both of you in that fleeting moment.

“S’alright,” Joel said, his voice low and rough, thick with something you couldn’t name. In the quiet, it sounded almost too intimate, the words carrying more weight than they should. As if realizing it himself, he quickly withdrew his hands from your waist, but he didn’t move away. He stayed close, the two of you now facing each other in the water.

The lake swirled around you both, but all you could feel was the heat radiating from his body, the way his touch seemed to linger in the coolness of the water. Your breath hitched, your heart beating in time with the soft ripple of the lake. The silence between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t shake, and the air around you thickened as if waiting for something to happen.

You looked up at him, and in the soft glow of the setting sun, his face was bathed in gold. His eyes—usually so guarded, so hard—were softer now, searching yours with something you had never seen before. There was an intensity in his gaze, but beneath it, a tenderness lingered, like he was silently asking a question he wasn’t ready to voice. The pull between you made your chest tighten with something unnameable, a feeling that left you off balance, dazed and heavy.

You were acutely aware of where his skin brushed against yours—the faint caress of his hands that had barely touched you moments ago, the way your legs accidentally bumped his beneath the water. Despite the closeness, something fragile hung in the air, as if the moment would shatter if either of you moved too suddenly.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting slightly, his eyes breaking away from yours for a split second. “You, uh… you doin’ alright?” His voice was rough, awkward, like he wasn’t used to asking such questions, especially not to you.

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone. He had never been cruel, exactly, but this gentleness? This was new.

“Yeah, I’m… fine,” you stammered, your own voice sounding more breathless than you’d intended. You glanced down, focusing on the water, but the tension still thrummed between you.

“You don’t usually ask how I’m doing,” you added, your lips curling slightly in a nervous smile.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I don’t, do I?” His eyes darted back to yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “I ain’t… I’m not always good at this.”

“This?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean… being nice?”

Joel sighed, the words he wanted to say slipping through his fingers. You could see the struggle in the way his brow furrowed, the unspoken weight of whatever it was he was holding back. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. He just stood there, a man at war with himself.

“It’s okay, Joel,” you said softly, sensing the awkward tension rising between you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

His eyes flickered with something raw, and for a split second, his brows drew together as if your words had stung. That brief moment of vulnerability caught you off guard—it hurt him. He didn’t like hearing it, didn’t like you thinking that he didn’t care or didn’t want to.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his composure. "I know I don’t," he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, rougher. "But that ain’t the point." His gaze locked on yours, more intense than before. He wanted to say more, wanted to bridge the gap between you, but the words just wouldn’t come.

You stayed there, waist-deep in the water, not knowing what to say next. The silence between you had shifted again, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you were ready to confront. You could feel it—the pull, the undeniable gravity of something deeper growing between you, as if the water itself was holding the tension, making every ripple feel like an unspoken truth pressing in from all sides.

For an instant, you could see the battle in his eyes, as if he was torn between wanting to pull you closer and keeping you at arm's length. It was as if everything he’d ever told himself about you—the distance he tried to maintain—was unraveling, crumbling under the weight of this moment. He wanted you to need him, to see him in a way he had never allowed himself to admit.

Despite everything he’d told himself from the moment you met, now, more than ever, he wanted to be needed by you.

•••

Eventually, you had gotten out of the water, the chill in the air making the warmth of the lakeside feel even more inviting. The group had gathered lazily on the shore, towels draped over your shoulders as the last traces of sunlight kissed the horizon. You sat down, still wrapped in the lingering tension of the moment with Joel, but trying to push it aside as everyone settled into the familiar ease of friendly chatter.

That’s when you noticed Maria, her expression a little more serious than usual as she glanced anxiously at Tommy. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it like she was gathering strength from him, her excitement barely contained beneath the surface.

“We’ve got something to share with y’all,” Maria finally said, her voice soft but brimming with anticipation.

Tommy grinned, the kind of grin that said he’d been dying to spill the news but had managed to hold back—just barely. He gave Maria an encouraging nod, unable to contain his excitement.

“I’m pregnant!” Maria blurted out, her smile lighting up as the words left her.

For a second, the world seemed to pause, and then everything shifted. The air buzzed with the energy of the announcement as it sank in. Ellie was the first to react, her eyes wide before she let out a whoop of pure joy, practically leaping over to hug Maria.

"Holy shit, Maria! That’s amazing!" Ellie laughed, spinning around, her excitement contagious.

“Oh my God, Maria!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. You rushed over to her, wrapping her in a tight hug and kissing her cheek. “Congratulations!” you said, your smile wide and genuine as you turned to Tommy and hugged him too. “This is incredible.”

“Thanks,” Maria said, her eyes shining with happiness.

“How long have you known?” you asked, still buzzing from the news.

“A month or so,” Maria replied, her smile softening as she glanced at Tommy. “We’ve been keeping it quiet until we were sure.”

“I’m so happy for you two,” you said, squeezing her hand.

Joel stood up, moving toward Tommy with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, murmuring a quiet "congratulations." He extended his hand for a shake but, at the last second, pulled Tommy into a brief, firm hug instead.

Tommy chuckled, clapping Joel on the back. “You ready to teach me a thing or two?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Joel’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he nodded, his voice soft. “You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You always do.”

Teach him? The thought echoed in your mind, lingering. Had Joel… had children before? The idea twisted something inside you. It made sense, the way he spoke with that quiet, heavy knowledge, like someone who had been through something unspeakable. The realization left you feeling unsettled, a sudden wave of sadness washing over you.

Ellie’s voice echoed in your mind from weeks ago: “He’s lost people.” The memory made your chest tighten. There was a quiet ache there, a sense of grief lingering beneath the surface of his rough exterior.

Joel’s gaze flickered toward you for a brief moment, and even in that split second, something passed between you—something unspoken, something heavy. It sent a ripple through the quiet moment, a fleeting connection that only deepened the mystery surrounding him.

And just like that, the celebration continued around you, full of laughter and joy. But as you watched, the pull of Joel’s quiet presence lingered, leaving you with more questions than answers, more curiosity than clarity.

Still, it wasn’t the time for those thoughts right now. Pushing them aside, you flashed a smile and said, "Well, we have to celebrate!" You glanced between Tommy and Maria, your eyes twinkling with excitement, determined to keep the mood light despite the heaviness tugging at the edges of your mind.

Tommy clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, let’s hit the Tipsy Bison and raise a glass, or five, to the new baby Miller.”

•••

It was now well into the night by the time you left the lake, the stars twinkling above as the heat of the day finally gave way to a cool breeze. You found yourself back on Joel’s horse, your arms slipping around his waist with ease this time, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t have to ask you to hold on. You just did, without question, the tension between you from earlier now softened by the gentle sway of the ride and the exhaustion that clung to your limbs after hours in the sun and water.

You watched the broad line of Joel’s back as he rode, the ends of his hair still damp, occasionally catching a glint of moonlight as it dripped slightly. His presence, steady and solid, lulled you into a state of quiet comfort. The rhythm of the horse, the warmth of his body, and the stillness of the night all blended together, creating a cocoon of calm.

Without warning, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the day catching up to you. Before you knew it, your head dipped forward, and you were fast asleep against Joel’s back, your arms slack but still resting around him. You didn’t hear him when he said your name softly, testing to see if you were still awake.

When you didn’t reply, Joel sighed under his breath. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with something between amusement and exasperation. “Gonna be the death of me.”

He adjusted his posture just slightly, careful not to jostle you too much as the horse trotted along the quiet path back to Jackson. The warmth of your body leaning into his back felt different now—less awkward, less loaded with tension, and more like an unspoken understanding. A quiet intimacy that neither of you needed to comment on.

When you arrived back at the stables Joel reined in the horse and glanced over his shoulder at you, still slumped peacefully against him. He shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He reached back, shaking your shoulder gently to wake you. “Hey,” he called softly, “Wake up. We’re here.”

You stirred slowly, blinking as you fought to shake off the drowsiness. Your eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, you were disoriented, the stillness of the night and the gentle sway of the horse making you feel like you were still dreaming.

“Heavy sleeper, aren’t you?” Joel’s voice pulled you from your half-daze. You blinked, disoriented for a second, glancing around the now-empty stables, trying to remember where you were.

“Huh?” you mumbled, still a little confused.

Joel’s eyebrow quirked, and his mouth twitched with amusement. “You still wanna go to the bar, or you want me to take you home?”

You straightened up quickly, rubbing your eyes. “No, no. We’re celebrating one way or another,” you said, trying to shake off the fog. “I just had a quick power nap, that’s all.”

Joel chuckled, a low, warm sound that surprised you. It was the first time you’d ever heard him laugh at something you’d said, and it caught you off guard. The corners of his mouth lifted in a way that softened his usually guarded expression.

Joel dismounted first, his movements deliberate and slow, turning back to offer you a hand. His hands found your waist again, firm but gentle, steadying you as you slid down from the horse.

“Where did Maria and Tommy go?” you asked, your voice still a bit groggy as your feet hit the ground.

“They headed out a few minutes before us,” Joel replied, his tone calm but with a hint of teasing. “Had to wake you up, remember?”

You blinked, the memory of him gently nudging you awake still a little hazy. “Right… power nap,” you mumbled with a sheepish smile.

Joel’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Yeah, sure looked like it.” His eyes softened slightly as they met yours, a subtle warmth there that hadn’t been before.

•••

The Tipsy Bison was anything but quiet. The room buzzed with life, a steady hum of voices and laughter filling the air as people gathered after a long day of hard labor. The place was rugged and worn, but comfortable—the wooden floors creaked underfoot, and the scent of old leather and whiskey hung in the air. Dim lanterns cast a warm, amber glow over the tables, where Jackson’s residents shared stories and tried to forget the weight of the world outside, even if just for a few hours.

You stood at the bar with Maria, ordering her an orange juice and three beers for yourself, Joel, and Tommy. Behind you, Tommy and Joel were seated at a table near the corner, their heads leaned in slightly as they murmured to each other.

As you waited for the drinks, you turned to Maria, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Maria, seriously, I’m so happy for you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You didn’t realize it until you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Maria laughed, blinking rapidly as she fought back her own tears. “You’re gonna make me cry, and we’ll both be a mess.”

You let out a small laugh, brushing at your eyes. “No, seriously. I can’t wait to meet this baby. I’m going to be the most insufferable aunt ever,” you added with a grin, “and this baby is going to be spoiled rotten.”

Maria’s smile softened, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded into the background. “I know you will be,” she said quietly, her voice filled with warmth. She reached out and squeezed your hand. “Thank you.”

As she let go, Maria's eyes glinted with mischief, her teasing smile returning. “So… you and Joel, huh? I saw you two at the lake today. Seemed… close.”

Your face instantly flushed, and you fumbled for words, completely caught off guard. “I-I don’t know,” you stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “He’s just… been nicer, I guess? Not as grumpy as usual.”

Maria chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as if she wasn’t quite convinced. “Nicer, huh? Sounds like progress to me.”

Just then, the bartender set your drinks down, breaking the moment to your relief. You picked them up, handing Maria her orange juice before heading toward Joel and Tommy, who were still deep in conversation, their heads bent close as they spoke in low voices. As you approached, you could hear the faint murmur of their discussion, though you couldn’t make out the words.

You glanced at Joel, a smile tugging at your lips before you even realized it. The day had gone so much better than you had expected. Joel’s usual gruff exterior had softened into something different, something softer. You hadn’t expected to see this side of him—the man behind the walls he kept so carefully in place.

And in that moment, as you walked toward Joel, you made a choice. The bitterness you’d been holding onto for so long was finally starting to thaw. His small kindnesses today—the way his hand had brushed your waist when he helped you off your horse, the quiet looks he gave you when he thought you weren’t watching—had planted the smallest seed of hope in you. Maybe, just maybe, things could be different between you two. Maybe you could leave the hurt behind, move past the sharp words and the tension that had defined your every interaction.

But then you heard it.

Tommy, with that usual playful smirk, leaned in closer to Joel. “So… you and her, huh?”

You and Maria froze mid-step, still a few meters away, unnoticed.

Joel’s entire body stiffened. Even from behind, you could see the tension ripple through his posture, his grip tightening around his glass, jaw clenched as if trying to hold something back. You couldn’t see his face, but his voice was enough. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he muttered, low and tight, like he was struggling to keep control.

Tommy chuckled, oblivious to the storm brewing in Joel’s chest. “Come on, man. I saw the way you two were today at the lake. You’ve been spendin’ time with her, helpin’ her out. Thought you couldn’t stand her at first, but now…” He shot Joel a look, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “She’s a good girl, Joel. Real sweet. Pretty too. Can’t say I’d blame you if—”

“Stop,” Joel snapped, his voice sharp, cutting through the air like a whip. There was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before—a coldness, an urgency, like he was desperate to shut this conversation down before it went any further.

Tommy blinked, startled by the sudden harshness in his brother’s tone. “Whoa, hey. I’m just sayin’—”

But Joel’s mind was racing. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He hadn’t expected Tommy to bring this up, hadn’t expected to be confronted with the truth that had been gnawing at him for weeks. You were getting under his skin, and that scared the hell out of him. Today had only confirmed what he’d feared—that he’d let you in too far, let himself care too much. You were the closest anyone had come since Tess, and that terrified him.

He’d had a good day with you today, better than he’d had in a long time with anyone. It had been easy to be nice, to let the tension between you slip away for a few hours. The way you had smiled at him, the way your laugh had filled the space between you both, made it impossible for him not to soften. For a moment, he had allowed himself to forget the walls he had built, to push aside the fear that constantly gnawed at him.

But hearing Tommy mention it—seeing someone else notice the change in him—sent a jolt of panic straight to his core. It was like the spotlight had been turned on, illuminating the truth he’d been trying to bury. Tommy had seen it, the closeness, the way Joel had softened around you. If Tommy could notice it, how long until you did too?

The realization hit him hard. He couldn’t afford to let you get that close. He couldn’t allow himself to feel this way, to care this deeply. The last time he’d let someone in, the cost had been unbearable. Losing Tess had shattered something inside him, and now, the idea of losing you—of letting himself care enough that it could hurt him like that again—was paralyzing.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He pushed you away.

“She’s annoying, Tommy,” Joel said, his voice hard and clipped, each word forced out like a bitter pill. “Doesn’t know what she’s doin’ half the time. Always in the way. Trust me, I could never be with someone like that.”

The words hung in the air, thick and heavy, like a blow that landed right in your gut.

Tommy’s smile faltered, his face falling into disbelief. “Jesus, Joel…” he muttered, shaking his head, the warmth in his voice gone, replaced with quiet disappointment.

But Joel didn’t see you standing there—had no idea you were close enough to hear every cruel word. The cold indifference in his voice cut deeper than any wound. It wasn’t just that he didn’t care—it was that he dismissed you, reduced you to an annoyance, a burden. A burden he barely tolerated.

The sound of glass shattering on the floor yanked both men’s attention back towards you.

You stood there, frozen in place, the beers you had been carrying now in pieces at your feet, amber liquid spreading across the wooden floor. Your heart felt like it had been torn apart, the weight of his words crashing over you, suffocating you. You had heard every single word, each one striking harder than the last, until the fragile hope you had been holding onto crumbled to dust. The air felt heavy, your chest tightening painfully, each breath a struggle as the full force of his rejection washed over you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, the dam breaking before you could stop it. No amount of blinking could hold them back now—they spilled down your cheeks freely, hot and unstoppable.

Maria stood beside you, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, her wide eyes darting between you and Joel, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she had just witnessed.

Joel’s gaze finally met yours, and the look on your face—the hurt, the betrayal—hit him harder than anything he’d ever felt. The coldness in his chest, the wall he had tried to build between himself and his feelings for you, shattered in an instant. His heart twisted painfully, and for a fleeting moment, you saw regret flicker across his face.

But it was too late. The damage had already been done.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, to explain, to fix the mess he had just created, but the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in his throat, useless.

You didn’t wait for him to speak. Without a word, you turned and walked away, the tears streaming down your face, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

You had been ready to forgive him. You had been willing to let go of the past, to give him—and the two of you—a chance. But now? Now you weren’t sure if you ever could.

Not after this.

•••

Tag list:

@valkyreally @ccmoonshine @dlwrish @immyowndefender @babygals-world @zenrobbins0021 @malfoycassimalfoy @damneddamsy @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @frogjumps-world @dendulinka6 @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @lol-im-done

@somedayheaven @ohdearvalentine @keseqna @kulekehe

@darkheartgatita @ickearmn @spacegirl-3 @mystickittytaco

@sukunnayuuji @jasminedragoon

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

Text

“We shouldn’t do this,” Steve pants against Eddie’s lips, rushing to kiss him again as Eddie pins him further against his front door.

Eddie breaks the kiss with a hum, pressing another kiss against the corner of Steve’s lips and across the two moles of his face before kissing down his neck. “We really shouldn’t,” Eddie agrees, voice low before he softly bites at Steve’s neck.

Steve groans as his head thuds back against his front door. “This is such a bad idea,” he breathes out, closing his eyes as Eddie sucks a bruise into his neck.

“The worst,” Eddie says, pulling back with a wet smack to admire his work before pressing his thumb against the sore skin.

Steve bites his bottom lip and pulls his hands away from Eddie’s waist. “We should stop.”

Eddie nods and takes a few steps back away from him. “We should.”

Steve stares at him for a moment nodding. Really it’s for the best. There’s no way they’d work out. And Steve isn’t really one for flings anymore. He wants the real deal. And Eddie doesn’t want that. He’s sure of it. And if they were to cross this line any further, Steve wouldn’t be able to stop himself from crossing it again.

Steve’s eyes track down to where Eddie’s chest is heaving up and down as he stares at him, hair slightly wild from where Steve’s hands were before. Then, Eddie slowly wets his lips, and Steve’s done for.

They both move together as if an unstoppable force is controlling them, crashing their lips together as their hands roam freely, Steve’s hands smoothly gliding against Eddie as Eddie’s nails scratch over him. Steve can’t get enough of it.

Eddie pulls away and grabs Steve by the shoulders. “Wait, wait, wait. The kids. We can’t do this to them.”

Steve nods. “Of course we can’t. They’d freak out if they found out.”

“So we should stop.”

“Definitely.”

They both stare at each other, eyes searching the other’s to find some hint of reluctance and give. Eddie’s hands slowly slip down Steve’s arms as he pulls away from him again.

As soon as Eddie’s hands leave Steve’s body, Steve reaches out and latches onto them. He shrugs. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Eddie’s eyes light up as he smiles, moving forward to kiss Steve again, but this time, Steve can feel him smiling into it. He practically melts when he realizes it, but quickly pulls away again. “Wait.”

Eddie fully stops and stares at him with no hint of frustration which warms Steve’s heart. Steve sighs and rests his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. “We should stop while we can.”

Eddie tilts his head down and pressed a soft kiss against Steve’s head. “We should.”

Steve squeezes his arm and steps back, trying to even out his breathing as he walks Eddie to the door.

It’s a strange deja vu that accompanies the walk, mirroring how they ended up like this in the first place. Eddie had stayed behind to help Steve clean up after the kids left, and as Steve walked him to the door, they both lingered in their goodbyes. And then something broke between them, and Steve’s unsure who kissed who first.

But as Steve’s hand finds the door handle again, he finds himself hesitating. Eddie smiles shyly at him and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face. “I guess this is goodbye.”

Steve nods and pulls the door fully open this time. “Thank you for helping me clean up and… everything.”

Eddie chuckles and buries his hands in his pocket with a shrug. “Anytime.”

Steve swallows, wanting to take him up on his offer and turn anytime into right now. But he just steps back and says. “Goodbye, Eds.”

“Bye, Stevie,” Eddie says, walking through the door and offering him a slight wave.

Steve returns it before softly shutting the door. He thuds his head against it and takes a deep breath. It’s for the best.

But is it?

How are they going to navigate things from here? It’s not like Steve will be able to easily forget this; he’s always going to long for this. And the bruise isn’t going to fade in a day. Will it remain as a torturous reminder of what could’ve been?

Steve sighs. “Fuck this,” he says pulling the door open only to find Eddie on the other side, hand raised as if to knock.

Eddie hurriedly says, “I can’t just… we can’t. This is…” He steps through the doorway and cups Steve’s face. “I can’t pass up this opportunity. Not when I’ve waited forever for this.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “Waited forever?”

Eddie huffs out a humorless laugh. “Steve, I’ve liked you for so long, and I don’t care if you don’t want more. It’s pathetic, but I’ll take what I can get. And if that’s just friends with benefits then-”

“What?” Steve asks, overwhelming confused and rushing to catch up.

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead against Steve’s. “Just kiss me again please.”

Steve takes a small step back and watches as Eddie’s face falls. “No, no. It’s not… Eddie, you like me?”

Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets. “I won’t ever mention it again. Don’t worry. I should go.”

He turns to leave, and Steve rushes to grab his arm. “Stop. Wait.”

Eddie hesitantly turns to him with regret and embarrassment written all over his face.

“Eddie, I like you, too. I thought you would want this to only be a fling which is why I said it was a bad idea. I knew if I let myself cross that line with you, I could never go back.”

Eddie pauses and steps closer to him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Steve states as he reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “And I’d really like to kiss you again. Go on a date even. Maybe even fall in love or something,” Steve says with a laugh.

Eddie laughs and rushes forward, pulling Steve into a tight hug. “God, I never thought this was possible.”

“Me either,” Steve confesses, pulling Eddie in tighter.

They melt into the hug and slowly pull back, moving in naturally to kiss each other, sweetly and slowly now that they have all the time in the world. And they’re going to use it well.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #happy thanksgiving?

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itsrheasgirl · 10 days ago

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Two strong bbg’s who need to be together.

They’d be unstoppable.

#rhea ripley #jey uso #wwe #wwe raw #jhea #my babies #put them together please

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coffee-obsessed-freak · 2 months ago

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I need to talk about this because it’s eating me up alive

SNOWCROW THOUGHTS LET’S GO

Okay, so I don’t think these two have even MET in canon, I’m also pretty sure Zayne only knows Sylus as the head of Onychinus and the most wanted man alive, BUT— their personalities? Their possible dynamic? I just think it would work sooo well, like slow burn mixed with different-morals with a hint of angst (a lot, actually, cuz that’s just the type of people they are)

I think a lot about Sylus “cannot-go-a-day-without-physical-touch” with Mr. Zayne “Withdrawn-but-will-always-respond-back” a LOT. Like, and I imagine that the first time Zayne is the one that initiates contact, Sylus is all wide-smirk and teasing quips. But Zayne KNOWS he’s happy about it, because it shows in the way his eyes will soften, and there are happy lines that pull his face upwards in a smile, and his ears are just the slightest bit red — to which Zayne is much more certain that his own are a shade darker, given the warmth he can feel

Their humor as well? I feel like Sylus would enjoy attempting to annoy Zayne a lot (the unstoppable force meets the immovable object), and Zayne would huff and reply back dryly or sarcastically quip something back. And Sylus would be so amused and smitten because Zayne is able to keep up with his energy — he’s just as sassy if not moreso. And his quips are always so smart, always an inside joke between the two of them that only they understand— Sylus would revel in the intimacy of that gesture alone

PLUS, RRRRR, the fact that they’d be polar opposites of each other? One will ruin the world for the other, the other will risk himself to save the world? Selfless x Selfish OOHH, MY HEART. BUT THAT’S THEM WHEN THEY’RE ON THEIR OWN. CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT THEY’D BE LIKE TOGETHER? THE ROLES WOULD SWITCH. Sylus would risk himself to save “his world” (his significant other), and Zayne would defy GOD to save his. The selfless becomes selfish, and the selfish becomes selfless — all in the pursuit of saving the other. And I just think it would be so goddamn beautiful to see these characters who are so assured of their roles, of the parts that they need to play, immediately throw it all away for that one singular person

The level of trust it requires. The yearning. The divide of moral conflicts. But at the end of the day, if Sylus were ever to be stuck in a ditch or an alleyway, battered and bruised, I imagine all he’d need to do is give Zayne a call — and he’d drop everything just to speed his way over to Sylus. No questions asked

He’d nurse him back to health, and Sylus will be silent the whole time as he’s being looked after because — he isn’t used to this. Being fussed over like this. Sure the twins themselves will make a huge deal about it, but Zayne? Zayne is the quiet sort of worried. Zayne would look at him with those soft, concerned eyes and softer, lower voice and— and then what? Sylus is at a loss for once in his life. Because here is one of the most renowned cardiologists, who probably has more important things to deal with than someone who willingly throws himself into danger oftentimes for the thrill of it — scolding him softly, asking him about his well-being, spoon feeding him even

And I imagine Sylus would say, “You don’t have to worry about me being down on my luck, next time. I’ll make sure it won’t happen again” and that doesn’t ease the concern in Zayne’s gaze, but his shoulders slump down just slightly, and all he says back is, “I want to worry for you. And I will continue to” and it sounds like a promise that’s laced with something more than just a Doctor looking after his patient

In return, Sylus will take at least a week and a half off from doing any shady business (doctor’s orders, he says), and Zayne is all the more relieved about it because he’s following his orders for once and looking after himself more

And Zayne? Zayne doesn’t even need to call for aid when he wants it (Not that he will, the goddamn self-sacrificial bastard), because canonically? Sylus will know. He has eyes everywhere, he’ll keep a special eye out on Zayne every time, regardless of how busy he is. So on the occasion that Zayne finds himself in a fight he can’t win against, Sylus will pop out of nowhere and say he was “in the area” (no he wasn’t). They make for an amazing team.

And on lonely days where it’s just Zayne working overtime? Where he feels the heavy presence of silence in his office? There Sylus will be, waltzing into his office, late night snacks in his arms for his poor overworked Dr. Zayne, because luckily for Zayne, Sylus is a terrible night owl and an insomniac some nights. And Zayne, albeit a little startled and exasperated the first time it happens, welcomes it along with every other new thing this dynamic of theirs brings. He finds himself looking forward to it some nights when he works overtime, because Sylus likes to bring new things to show off to him, or new desserts that he thinks Zayne would like

All in all, I just think their dynamic would be so sweet dasdhsjkad

#snowcrow #snowcrow lads #lads #love and deepspace #lnds #sylus #zayne #lads sylus #lads zayne #zayne lads #sylus lads #sylus lnds #zayne lnds #sylus x zayne #zayne x sylus #snowcrow is such a good name for them too #it’s so cute

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partoffantasy · 1 month ago

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When Words Hurt - Bodhi Durran

⸻ image credits to OC & scribe.jesinia⸻

summary: after a heated argument shatters their year-long relationship, Y/N isolates herself in guilt and confusion, while Bodhi struggles with the depth of the pain she caused.

pairing: bodhi durran x fem!reader warnings: angst word count: 5.8k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

Bodhi and Y/N were the embodiment of what everyone around them dreamed of when it came to a perfect relationship. It wasn’t the whirlwind romance that came with grand gestures or dramatic moments. No, theirs was the quiet, steady kind of love that built itself on a foundation of small, everyday acts that spoke louder than anything else.

Their mornings began with the simple act of sharing breakfast together, the sounds of the bustling cafeteria fading as they found their own small corner, away from the chatter of other cadets. Y/N would pour herself a cup of steaming tea, settling down across from Bodhi, and they’d talk as if they were the only two people in the world. Bodhi would reach over, stealing a piece of toast from her plate, teasing her playfully for always getting more than she needed. Y/N would roll her eyes but smile nonetheless, always finding amusement in his actions.

“You know,” Bodhi would say between bites, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to starve me.” “Maybe you deserve it,” Y/N would tease back, nudging him with her foot under the table. “You’re always trying to steal my food.” And for a moment, everything was perfect. They’d laugh, carefree, without a care in the world. The moments they shared—small, quiet, and filled with affection—felt like the most natural thing. To those around them, it was obvious. They were in tune with each other, understanding each other’s rhythms, without needing to try.

When classes were over, when their responsibilities were done for the day, Bodhi and Y/N found themselves walking side by side across Basgiath’s grounds. The sun would be setting, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink, and they’d stroll along the pathways, hands brushing together before inevitably clasping. Bodhi was always the first to pull her close, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in a protective manner, while Y/N would rest her head against his shoulder, content.

“So,” Y/N would ask, breaking the comfortable silence. “What do you think you’ll do when we graduate?” Bodhi would pause for a moment, his thoughts drifting to the future. “I’ve got my plans,” he’d say, voice light, but there was something deeper there. “I’ll probably stick around here for a bit longer. Maybe take a leadership role if they’ll have me.” He’d glance at her, raising an eyebrow. “What about you?”

Y/N would smile, a hint of pride in her expression. “I’m thinking of leading some army in one of the outposts, maybe becoming an emissary. But that’s only if I’m not too busy with Caelan.” She’d nudge him with a playful grin. “You never know, next year I might be a wingleader myself.”

Bodhi would chuckle, the idea of Y/N being a wingleader somehow making her even more attractive in his eyes. He loved her strength, her independence. She wasn’t someone who would sit quietly in the background; she had dreams, ambitions that matched his own. And that was what made them work—together, they were unstoppable.

It wasn’t just the big conversations that made their bond unshakable; it was the small moments, the ones that no one saw but the two of them. At night, when they’d go back to their quarters after a long day, the world outside would fade away. Bodhi would close the door softly behind him, and before he could even settle, Y/N would be by his side, her arms reaching for him. Her presence was like a calm, steadying force, and he’d pull her close, kissing all her thoughts away. They didn’t need anything grand, no words, just the simple act of being there for one another.

There was something so real about their connection. The way Bodhi would tuck a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear as she focused on her notes, the way she would always leave a small note for him in his bag when he wasn’t looking, just a simple “thinking of you.” They were there for each other in every little way, both showing love in their own, quiet way. But like all relationships, there were moments of vulnerability, too. It wasn’t all smooth sailing. In the rare quiet moments, when Y/N would let her guard down, she would open up about her deepest fears.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for all of this,” she admitted one night, voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not living up to my potential. Like I’m just playing catch-up with everyone around me.” Bodhi didn’t hesitate. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly what to say. “You’re doing great. You’re stronger than you think. You’ve got a fire in you that no one else has. Don’t doubt yourself, Y/N. Not for a second.”

His words, his steady belief in her, were enough to ease her mind for the night. And in return, she would reassure him of his own worth, how much she admired his dedication and his ability to balance the weight of leadership with the care he showed for others. Together, they built each other up, piece by piece.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

But as the months went by, a subtle shift began to take place—a shift that neither of them could quite identify. What once felt effortless had begun to feel strained, their responsibilities—both academic and personal—pressing in on them. Bodhi had always been the steady one. He thrived in leadership roles, balancing the expectations of Xaden and the revolution with the loyalty he felt for his squadmates. He cared for Y/N with a devotion that was hard to match. He was protective in ways that went beyond simple affection—he truly cared for her well-being. He wanted to be the one who helped carry the weight of her burdens, who kept her grounded when everything else felt too overwhelming.

But lately, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was slipping away from him. It wasn’t something blatant, not at first. It was the small things. Her absences were becoming more frequent. Her distracted glances when he spoke to her, her lack of presence in their shared moments—it all felt like he was trying to hold onto something that was slowly evaporating.

One evening, as they sat together in their shared dorm room, the air between them felt thick, too thick for comfort. Y/N was sprawled on the bed, playing around with one of her knives, her brow furrowed in concentration. Bodhi sat on the chair across from her, watching her, feeling a strange mix of frustration and longing. They hadn’t had a moment to themselves in days. Between her workload and her own ambitions, it felt like she was always on the move, always focused on something else.

He tried to strike up a conversation, his voice soft, trying to break the silence that had grown around them. “So, what’s on your mind tonight?” Bodhi asked, leaning forward slightly. Y/N didn’t look up, her fingers still moving across the blade. “Just wondering about the alloy for the knives. We need to speak to Xaden about the next deliveries.” Bodhi tried to smile, though it felt strained. “I get that. You’ve been busy. But... don’t you think you’ve been working yourself too hard lately?”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to him for just a moment, but she quickly looked away, refocusing on the task at hand. “I’ve got a lot of things to juggle, Bodhi. You know how it is.” Bodhi nodded, but the words stung more than he let on. You know how it is. He had always been there for her, supportive in every way, but it felt as though she was pushing him aside, pulling away emotionally. And it wasn’t just this one moment. It was a pattern he had noticed over the past few weeks.

He let out a breath, leaning back in the chair. “I know,” he said quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “But we haven’t really spent any time together lately. Not real time. Just... us.” Her eyes finally met his, but there was a coldness in them that he hadn’t seen before. “I’m just busy, Bodhi. I can’t help that. You’re not the only one with things to do. And besides, I am here with you now, am I not?"

He flinched at her tone. It wasn’t harsh, but there was an edge to it, an impatience that he wasn’t used to. Bodhi’s chest tightened, and he bit back the words he really wanted to say. He could feel the wall between them growing thicker. She was withdrawing, and it was driving him mad. Bodhi tried again, softer this time. “I’m not asking you to stop everything. I just... I miss you. We’ve barely talked in days.” Y/N’s gaze softened for a brief moment, but it didn’t last. She sighed and set the knife down, rubbing her forehead. “I know, okay? I know, but I can’t just ignore my responsibilities. There’s a lot at stake, and you don’t always understand that.”

Her words hit him like a cold slap. She wasn’t wrong. He didn’t understand the pressure she was under—he had his own burdens, but hers seemed to weigh on her in ways that he couldn’t relate to. But still, the words stung. Did she think he didn’t understand the sacrifices she made? Did she think he was just here for the easy moments?

“I’m not asking you to ignore your responsibilities,” Bodhi said, his voice thick with the emotion he was struggling to keep in check. “I’m just asking you to be present with me. You’re here, but you’re not really here, Y/N. It’s like you’re always somewhere else.” Y/N crossed her arms, a frown tugging at her lips. “You don’t get it, Bodhi. You’re not the only one trying to juggle everything. I don’t have the luxury of just... being present right now. I’m trying to build something for myself. To prove that I can handle it all.”

The air between them felt suffocating now. Bodhi’s chest tightened as he tried to process what she was saying. He did understand. He understood better than anyone, probably, what it was like to fight for your place in the world, to prove yourself worthy. But that wasn’t the issue here. The issue was that she was pushing him away, choosing her workload and her goals over their relationship.

“I’m not trying to hold you back,” Bodhi said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m just trying to be a part of your life. You were making time for me, Y/N. We used to laugh, we used to talk, we used to do everything together. Now... it’s like you’re shutting me out.” Y/N’s face hardened, and she stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in the small room. “Maybe I’m shutting you out because I’m tired, Bodhi! Tired of trying to balance it all. I’m not a damn machine. I can’t just drop everything for you whenever you want.”

Bodhi’s heart sank as the words hit him, and for a moment, he felt his stomach twist with the weight of her frustration. He never wanted to be a burden to her. But it felt like every effort he made to reach her was just falling short. “I’m not asking you to drop everything,” Bodhi said again, his voice softer now, quieter. “I’m just asking for a little bit of your time. A little bit of you. That’s all.” Y/N stopped pacing and turned to face him. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—frustration, maybe, or guilt—but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. “I can’t do this, Bodhi. I can’t keep apologizing for being busy. I’m not the one who’s dropping the ball here.”

Bodhi’s eyes narrowed, his heart pounding. “I never said you were. But it sure feels like it.” They both fell silent. The tension between them is thicker than it had ever been. What had started as a small misunderstanding was starting to feel like something much bigger. Bodhi stood with his fists clenched, trying to keep his composure, but his frustration was boiling over. The words Y/N had said still echoed in his mind.

His jaw tightened, and he forced himself to speak calmly, even though every fiber of his being wanted to shout. “You don’t get it, Y/N. I’m not asking you to drop everything. I’m asking you to show up. To be here when I need you. I’m not just your boyfriend, you know. I’m your partner. And I can’t keep doing this alone.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed, and the defensiveness that had been building all evening reached its peak. “I never asked you to do anything alone, Bodhi! I’m not the one who’s been disappearing!” Her voice shook, but it was laced with an anger that hadn’t been there before. “I’m doing my best! But it’s never enough for you, is it? You always want more. You always need more.”

Bodhi felt like a slap had landed across his cheek. He shook his head, refusing to back down. “You think I want more? I don’t want more, Y/N. I just want you to care. I want you to see me. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own world that it’s like I don’t even matter anymore.”

Her breath hitched, and her hands balled into fists at her sides. She was shaking now, both from the hurt and the anger. “What is that supposed to mean, Bodhi? Of course you matter! I never said you didn’t!” Her voice cracked slightly as she took a step closer to him, the distance between them narrowing but the emotional gap only widening. “But you don’t understand, okay? I have things to do. I’m trying to be someone.”

Bodhi’s heart ached at her words, and for a brief moment, it felt like his chest might cave in. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her close and make everything better, but every time he tried, she seemed to pull further away. “You think I don’t understand? I’m the one who’s been trying to support you through all this, Y/N. I’ve been right here, waiting for you to open up, waiting for you to let me in. But you won’t! You won’t let me in.”

Y/N flinched at the raw emotion in his voice, but the anger in her rose again. She was feeling overwhelmed by her own insecurities and frustrations. “I can’t just let you in all the time, Bodhi! I’m not some fragile thing that needs fixing!” Her words were harsh now, her temper flaring. “You always act like you need to protect me, like I’m some damsel in distress! But I’m not! I’m not weak, and I don’t need you to always be there to pick up the pieces!”

Bodhi recoiled as though he’d been struck. The air between them felt like it was charged with a thousand volts, and every word that left their mouths only made the storm between them grow more intense. “So what do you want from me, Y/N?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Do you want me to just stand by and watch you burn out? Watch you push me away because you’re too proud to admit you need help?”

Y/N’s eyes flashed with pain, and she took a step back, her face hardening as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Maybe I don’t need help, Bodhi! Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t get it! Maybe you’re just making it all about you when it’s never been about you!”

The words cut deep, deeper than anything she had said before. Bodhi felt his heart drop into his stomach. He hadn’t meant to make it about himself. He had only wanted to be there for her. He had always wanted to be the one who supported her, who could stand by her side when things got hard. But now, it felt like she was pushing him away with every word.

He was struggling to keep his voice steady, but it was slipping. “I never said it was only about me. But damn it, Y/N, I’m trying so hard! I’m trying to be the one who makes it easier for you, but you’re shutting me out. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He swallowed thickly, his chest tight, the words clawing their way out of his throat. “I’m not asking for everything, I’m asking for something. For you to want this too. For us to make this work.”

Y/N’s face flushed with frustration, the hurt on her face now replaced by something darker. “Maybe I can’t make it work right now, Bodhi!” Her voice was trembling now, but there was a finality in it. “Maybe I can’t balance you and everything else. Maybe it would be better if we never got together.”

The words hit Bodhi like a physical blow. He froze, staring at her as though he couldn’t comprehend what she had just said. His heart seemed to stop in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. He couldn’t breathe. His mind raced to catch up with the statement. It felt like the ground had slipped out from under him, leaving him with nothing but empty space.

Y/N’s eyes widened the moment the words left her mouth. She didn’t mean them—not like that, at least. But the damage had already been done. She couldn’t take them back. Bodhi’s face fell, his expression crumpling as the pain from her words hit him. “What?” His voice was barely above a whisper, cracking from the hurt he couldn’t hide. “You really think that? You think it would be better if we never got together?”

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach, her own emotions overwhelming her. “I—Bodhi, I didn’t mean... I didn’t mean it like that... I just...” But the words were trapped in her throat, tangled with the emotions she couldn’t untangle. She wanted to explain, to make him understand, but she felt too lost inside herself to find the right words.

“I don’t know what to do with this anymore,” Bodhi muttered, his voice strained. He backed away from her slowly, like he couldn’t bear to be close, but he didn’t know how to leave either. The space between them was too vast, too raw, and every second that passed only made the distance grow wider. He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration, trying to push the tears that threatened to rise.

Y/N stood there, her own heart breaking as she realized what she had said. She hadn’t wanted to destroy them, but everything felt so impossible. She couldn’t fix it. She couldn’t fix herself. And that is what she has been feeling lately—broken. And she thought she could fix herself without also breaking Bodhi. "Please go," she heard him mutter, his back to her. Tears welled up in her eyes and she felt her heart break into pieces. She walked away before she lost herself in front of him.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Days passed in a haze for Y/N. Each morning she awoke with a heavy heart, as though her own guilt and sadness had settled deep into her bones. She moved through the motions of daily life, but everything felt muted, distant. Her once-vibrant energy had drained, leaving behind a hollow version of herself. She would sit in class, staring at the words on the pages, but none of it registered. Her mind was elsewhere, spinning in a cycle of regret, confusion, and the overwhelming feeling that something precious had been irreparably broken.

The worst part was that she couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when things had started to fall apart. One moment, everything had felt perfect. Bodhi had been her rock, the one person who had made everything feel right. And now, after their fight, it was as if the ground beneath her had cracked open, swallowing everything she had once known to be true.

It wasn’t just Bodhi. It was herself. She didn’t recognize the person staring back at her in the mirror. Gone was the happy, confident Y/N who would laugh and joke with Violet and Rhi, who would plan their future together with hopeful optimism. Now, she was someone completely different—someone unsure, hollowed out by grief she hadn’t even allowed herself to mourn yet.

At first, she tried to keep up appearances. She showed up to class, walked through the halls of Basgiath with her head down, avoided eye contact with everyone. She still managed to smile when she crossed paths with people, but it was always strained, a thin mask that hid the wreckage beneath. Her usual bright spark had dimmed, her eyes clouded with unshed tears.

Bodhi was always on her mind, but every time she thought of him, a deep pit formed in her stomach. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing him, not after the words she had said. She didn’t mean them. She never meant them. But they had come out in a moment of anger and frustration, and now they hung over her like a cloud she couldn’t shake.

Her attempts to fix things had failed before they even started. She’d sit in her room late at night, fingers hovering over the paper in front of her, ready to write something to Bodhi. But every time she tried, the words felt like poison on her tongue. What could she say? How could she apologize for everything she had done wrong? It all felt too much, and so she simply dropped the quill, burying her face in her hands and crying alone in the darkness.

Violet noticed the change in Y/N almost immediately. Her best friend looked withdrawn, exhausted, and endlessly distant. Violet’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t know how to help. She tried. She really did. At first, she gave Y/N space, assuming that maybe the fight with Bodhi had simply rattled her, and that some time apart would help ease the tension. But as the days passed, Y/N only seemed to retreat further into herself, like a tortoise pulling its head into its shell to protect itself from the world. Violet’s gentle attempts to check in—whether through a nudge in the hallway or a quiet question during meals—were always met with short, unconvincing answers.

“Hey, are you alright?” Violet would ask softly, her voice full of concern as they sat in the cafeteria. “I’m fine,” Y/N would respond, her words hollow. But Violet wasn’t stupid. She could see it in the way Y/N’s shoulders hunched, the way her eyes never fully met anyone’s gaze, how she seemed almost disconnected from the world around her. The energy that once made Y/N the heart of their group was gone, replaced by emptiness.

But Violet didn’t know how to break through the wall Y/N had built around herself. Her friend wasn’t angry with her—Y/N never had been—but there was something about the way she withdrew that felt like a rejection, like a door being slammed in her face. And it hurt, even though Violet knew it wasn’t personal. She just wanted to help, to bring Y/N back, but each time she tried, she was met with resistance.

For Y/N, it was like being trapped in her own head, unable to escape the constant loop of grief and guilt that kept her awake at night. She didn’t know how to fix what had been broken. She didn’t know how to apologize for the things she’d said, the hurt she had caused, or the mess she had created. But more than anything, she didn’t know how to stop feeling like the person she loved the most had slipped through her fingers.

Every time she thought of Bodhi, the pain twisted in her chest, deeper than anything she had felt before. The memory of the words she had thrown at him—the ones she didn’t mean, but couldn’t take back—haunted her. She didn’t want to end things. She couldn’t stand the idea of losing him. But every time she thought of reaching out, her own internal walls pushed her back. How could she face him after everything? How could she face herself?

She was slowly unraveling, piece by piece, and all she wanted was for everything to go back to how it had been before. But deep down, she feared it was already too late.

Y/N had spent days between self-imposed isolation. Every time she tried to work up the courage to talk to Bodhi, she found herself retreating further into herself, scared of what would happen if she faced him. But the guilt, the shame—it became too much to bear. The longer she waited, the heavier it felt, and the more her emotions threatened to consume her. She could no longer pretend she wasn’t devastated by the rift she had created.

It was late afternoon when she finally decided to face him. The decision came after a long, restless day where she had hardly spoken to anyone. Violet had tried to talk to her, but Y/N had shut her out, unable to let anyone in. She knew she had to do something—anything—to begin to fix the mess she had made. Bodhi deserved an apology. More than that, he deserved answers.

With shaky hands, Y/N left her room. Her heart was racing in her chest, and her breath came in short, shallow bursts. The hallways of Basgiath felt like a labyrinth, every step heavier than the last. She didn’t know where to find him, but it was only a matter of time before she came across him. She had to talk to him. She couldn’t keep avoiding it.

She wandered aimlessly, her thoughts drowning out everything else. The distant sounds of cadets laughing, training, and talking barely registered as she moved, her mind focused solely on the weight of what was coming. She didn’t know what she would say, only that she needed to see him. It was the first time in days she felt some semblance of determination rising within her.

And then, just as she was about to turn a corner, she saw him. Bodhi. He was standing near a window at the far end of the hallway, looking out at the distant mountains with a contemplative expression, his posture rigid. She froze for a moment, unsure if she should approach him or turn and run. Her body tensed with anxiety, but something deep inside her knew this was it—this was her chance to make it right.

Taking a breath, she gathered her courage and walked toward him, each step feeling like it took forever. When she reached him, she hesitated for a moment, unsure how to start. The silence between them stretched painfully. His back was to her, but Y/N could see his jaw tighten, as though he knew she was there, knew what was coming.

“Bodhi,” she said softly, the sound of his name breaking the quiet like a fragile glass. He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of guarded pain and something else—something unreadable. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again, not knowing where to begin. She had rehearsed this conversation in her head a hundred times, but now that it was happening, the words felt so inadequate.

“I… I didn’t know if I should come,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know if I should just leave things be, but… I can’t. I can’t just pretend like nothing happened.” Bodhi’s expression softened slightly, but he still didn’t say anything. It was as though he was waiting for her, giving her space to speak without pushing her. Taking a deep breath, Y/N finally forced the words out. “I’m sorry, Bodhi. I never meant for it to go this far, never meant for the things I said to hurt you. I—I was lost, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I was so caught up in my own confusion that I hurt you. And for that, I am so sorry.”

Her voice faltered as the weight of her own words hit her. The apology wasn’t smooth, but it was the most honest thing she could say. She had no idea how he would react, no idea if this would be enough to bridge the chasm she had created. But she had to try. For both of them.

Let's talk in my room," he sighed and started walking towards the dormitories. Y/N followed him, feeling so small but also hopeful for the first time since their fight.

Bodhi was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at her, his expression unreadable. The distance between them felt huge, even though they were only a few feet apart. Y/N shifted uncomfortably, nervously fidgeting with her hands. She had never felt more lost in her life, more unsure of everything she thought she had known. This wasn’t who she was—this wasn’t the confident, composed woman who had once walked alongside him, sharing laughter and love. No, this was someone broken, someone desperate for redemption.

“I… I don’t even know where to start,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy, like they had to push through a wall before they could leave her mouth. Bodhi didn’t respond immediately. He just watched her, his gaze intense but distant at the same time. It made Y/N feel small, insignificant, as though everything that had happened had erased her worth in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I never should have—” “Stop,” Bodhi interrupted, his voice hoarse. “You don’t need to apologize for that, Y/N.” But Y/N shook her head, a tear escaping before she could hold it back. “I do,” she said, her voice shaking. “I do need to apologize. You… you don’t deserve the things I said. It wasn’t about you. It was never about you. I was just—lost. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough.”

Bodhi flinched at her words, and Y/N immediately regretted them. Her heart cracked as she watched him process her apology. She could see the hurt in his eyes, and it was a mirror to the agony she felt inside. Her own pain had caused this—this chasm between them. This hurt that she couldn’t undo, no matter how many times she said the words.

“I’ve never felt more lost in my life,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know how we got here… how everything just—” She choked on the words, unable to finish the thought. “I’ve been so confused, and I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted it to end like this.” Bodhi didn’t say anything right away. He looked down, his jaw clenched tightly as he took in her words. Y/N could feel the silence between them, heavy and suffocating, and it made her want to disappear.

“I never wanted it to come to this,” she said, voice trembling. “I never wanted to be this version of myself, the one who can’t fix what’s broken. I just… I don’t know how to fix it.” Bodhi let out a long breath, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as though he needed something to hold onto. He looked up at Y/N then, his eyes filled with raw vulnerability—something she hadn’t seen from him in a long time.

“You hurt me, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were soft but heavy, filled with pain. “When you said that… it felt like you were telling me that everything we had wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t enough. And it… it crushed me.” Y/N’s heart plummeted into her stomach. She could feel the weight of his words, like a physical blow. Bodhi, always the strong one, the rock that she could lean on, was broken. And it was her fault.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she said, her voice hoarse with guilt. “I didn’t mean it, Bodhi. I just—everything felt like it was slipping away, and I didn’t know how to fix it, so I said the worst thing I could think of. And now… now I don’t know how to fix this.” Bodhi swallowed hard, his gaze softening ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I can forget what you said.”

The words hit her like a wave, pulling her under. She wanted to say something to make it better, to promise him that she would do whatever it took to fix the damage she had caused, but her throat felt tight, her words stuck. What could she say? What could she do? The weight of everything between them was too much to handle, and she didn’t know if she was worthy of fixing it.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me right away,” she said quietly. “I just… I need you to know how sorry I am. I never wanted to hurt you like that. I love you. I really do. So, so much Bodhi.”

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The silence that followed was thick, but there was something softer in it now. Something that felt like a small crack in the wall they had built between each other. They found a quiet space in the corner of the courtyard, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun casting a warm, golden light over everything. Bodhi and Y/N sat across from each other, the tension still there, but now there was something different in the air. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t guilt—it was a fragile hope. They both knew that their relationship had been shaken to its core, but they were willing to work through it. Together.

“I don’t know how we got here,” Y/N said quietly, breaking the silence. “I don’t know how we went from being so close to…” She trailed off, the words too painful to finish. Bodhi sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Neither do I. But we’re here now. And we can’t change what happened. All we can do is… try to figure out what comes next.”

Y/N nodded, tears welling up again. “I never wanted to hurt you, Bodhi. I’m so sorry. I feel like I’m drowning in what I’ve done, in how I’ve broken this. And I don’t know how to make it right.” Bodhi’s expression softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N saw the familiar spark of the man she loved. “We’re not broken,” he said gently. “We’re hurt. But we can heal, together.”

They sat there for a long time, in silence, just letting the moment settle between them. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was real. It was a step toward something new—a new beginning, perhaps. And maybe that was all they needed for now. They weren’t fixed. But they were trying. And sometimes, that was enough.

#fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfic #iron flame #onyx storm #xaden riorson #bodhi durran one shot #bodhi durran #bodhi durran imagine #bodhi durran angst #bodhi durran x reader

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princessbrunette · 4 months ago

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I don't know if you had already answered this on your blog, but I was wondering would any of the girls be friends? Like I'm talking kitty, puppy, deer, lamb, and bunny. In my head I always pictured Kitty and Puppy being best friends and Bunny being more of an outsider because she's with Rafe.

this is interesting !! let me dissect all of ‘em <3

bunny:

you’re right — no one really wants to be friends with the poor girl because she’s rafe’s ride or die, and well — who trusts rafe? on first glance, they all would assume she’s just as wicked and evil as her boyfriend, but it would only take one interaction with her to know she’s not at all. i think with all the girls, their view on bunny shifts from being suspicious, to being pitying very quickly. whilst i don’t think they’d even get close enough to be friends, the general consensus of her would be “shes so sweet, idk what she sees in rafe.” or “we need to get her out of there!”

if she’s gonna make an unlikely companionship with anyone, it would be a universe where lamb!reader is dating one of the pogues. her and lamb come from similar kooky upbringings, and their complete opposite ways of presenting themselves would make for an interesting and hilarious dynamic. bunny teaches lamb about all the girl things she’d been deprived of, and lamb applies biblical meaning to bunny’s life lessons. she also thinks rafe is the devil but that’s a story for another day.

kitty:

whilst kitty and puppy would be a funny dynamic — and it works, as traditionally pup is with john b and kitty is with jj, my favourite friendship pairing might have to be kitty and deer. kitty feels less responsible for deer like she might with puppy, and as they both have super niche interests and ways of being, they’d have a lot to talk about.

my favourite thing about their dynamic would be the way they handle confronting situations. they’re both big people watchers, often silently floating around, wide eyed and unnervingly observant — however when the attention is drawn to them in a negative light, deer is quick to flee — upset and terrified of confrontation, whereas kitty will stay, tense up and run her mouth protectively of herself and her friend. she may be quiet but she can be lethal when provoked.

puppy:

puppy would get along with anyone, as she’s super friendly and sociable. in the most versatile way, she adapts to the needs of her friend — meaning if she’s hanging out with deer, she knows she’ll be doing a lot of the yapping whilst deer listens and observes before giving advice or an opinion. with kitty, it’s a yap off, the two of them always having alot to say. i can’t really see pup and mouse crossing paths, and i don’t think lamb would particularly take to her.

i am aware i said bunny wouldn’t be around many other readers, but other than lamb, if anyone will break through it’s pup. she and bun have the same energetic, sexually charged ditsy ways, so i think around eachother they’d be able to unapologetically be themselves and treat the world as their playground. their friendship would be less about sitting and talking and more about running around getting into chaos and spending money on rafes card. in another world they’re f4f gfs.

mouse:

i’ve spoken of this many times, but an underrated yet unstoppable duo is mouse and kitty. they enable eachother in the worst ways, mouse teaching kitty how to not get caught when shop lifting, kitty teaching mouse how to fuck, smoke cigs and mouth off (shes too shy to do the last, and lets kitty fight many of her battles)

they spend alot of time together, perhaps to the point of being completely codependent, never seen without the other. kitty was even there the first time mouse had sex, holding her hand. they bicker, but it’s because they care about eachother.

#anon #bunny!reader #kitty!reader #deer!reader #mouse!reader #puppy!reader #lamb!reader

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lupinqs · 4 months ago

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CHAPTER TWO ━━ Quickly-Growing-Maybe-Soon-Best-Friend

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 3.6K

❀ ━ warnings: allusions to sex but not much

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: paige is so down bad already and girl doesn’t even realize it…….. also my bad this is such a filler

PAIGE THINKS she might be in love with Jo Jacobson.

Not like that, of course. It’s not romantic, not even close. It’s more of an “I think this person is becoming my favorite human” kind of thing. Paige can’t really explain it, but there’s just something about Jo—and these past three weeks of living together have only solidified it.

From the first night in their shared apartment, when they’d sat on the couch in their living room in awkward silence, to now, where there’s never really any silence at all, one of them constantly talking the others ears off like they’ve known each other forever. Paige has always been the kind of person to warm up to others quickly, her extroverted energy practically bursting out of her, but Jo? Jo’s a little quieter, slightly more reserved. She’s not shy by any means, but there’s a certain softness to her that makes Paige want to protect her from anything and everything.

Paige adores that softness. Jo’s the kind of person who makes you feel calm just by being near her, like she has this invisible aura that radiates peace. She’s always smiling—bright and genuine, like she’s just happy to be here, happy to exist. Paige can’t help but smile back whenever Jo’s around. It’s infectious, really.

Truthfully, their personalities shouldn’t blend as well as they do—Paige’s loud, chaotic voice nervy should theoretically overwhelm Jo’s somewhat quieter demeanor—but somehow, it works. They’ve fallen into this easy rhythm of teasing each other, sharing random late-night thoughts, and laughing until their stomachs hurt over the dumbest things.

Like last week, when Jo walked in on Paige attempting to balance her basketball on her head for no reason other than she was bored. Instead of questioning it, Jo just laughed so hard she almost fell over, and then proceeded to try it herself. They spent the next several minutes in a competition over who could balance it the longest, which, for the record, Jo totally won. Paige pretended to be mad, but she wasn’t. She was too busy fighting back a grin as she watched Jo laugh loudly, making an L with her fingers and putting it right in front of Paige’s face.

Paige doesn’t know if she’s pushing it, but it’s been a while since she’s felt this connected to someone so quickly. Yes, she has her circle of close friends on the team—Azzi, Nika, Caroline, the list goes on—but there’s something different about Jo. Something special. Maybe it’s the way Jo listens so intently when Paige is ranting about some random topic. Or the way she’s always down to join Paige for a late-night shooting session, no questions asked. Or maybe it’s just the way Jo seems to understand Paige, even without her having to say much at all.

And don’t even get Paige started on their on-court chemistry. It’s almost ridiculous how well they mesh. They’re both natural point guards, which should make things complicated, but instead, it’s like they just get each other. During practices and scrimmages, it feels like Paige always knows where Jo is without having to look, and vice versa. They’ve perfected this unspoken language of no-look passes and perfectly timed cuts, and it’s perfect. Paige is convinced that when the season starts in November, they’re going to be unstoppable.

Today, they’re matched up against each other in their five-on-five, full-court scrimmage. Paige thrives in this environment, where the game is fast and physical, where every decision has to be made in a split second.

Right now, though, Jo is making Paige work.

Jo has the ball at the top of the key, her dribble steady and deliberate as she surveys the court. Paige crouches low in her defensive stance, her arms extended, her gaze locked on Jo’s every move. Jo’s face is calm, composed, but Paige can see the wheels turning. She’s looking for an opening, one Paige isn’t about to give her.

“Whatchu got, JoJo?” the blonde teases, voice light but goading.

Jo doesn’t take the bait, hardly even glancing at her, but Paige can see the corner of her mouth twitch like she’s fighting back a smile. It’s enough to make Paige grin, but she quickly suppresses it. She tells herself to focus.

Jo dribbles to her right, testing Paige’s reaction. Paige shifts with her, staying low and quick on her feet. Jo pivots, fakes left, then spins back to her right, her movements so smooth and seamless that Paige almost gets caught off guard. Almost.

The blonde recovers quickly, sliding her feet to cut Jo off, and the two of them are chest to chest now, close enough that Paige can hear Jo’s steady breathing. “Come on, freshie,” Paige whispers lowly, smirking, her tone playful but challenging.

Jo still doesn’t respond, focus unshakeable, not the type to yap on the court. She steps back, creating just enough space to pull up for a three. Paige jumps to contest, her hand outstretched, but the ball is already in the air. It arcs perfectly, hitting nothing but net.

As Jo lands, she jogs backward, prepared to get back on defense. But as she catches Paige’s eye, she sticks her tongue out at her. The gesture is quick, cheeky, and it makes Paige shake her head, biting back a grin. “Okay,” she mutters under her breath, “I see you.”

And she does. God, does she see her—and, God, does she understand why Jo was the number one recruit in the nation.

The next possession, Paige has the ball. She brings it up the court with that signature strut in her step, the kind that says she knows she’s about to make something happen. Jo’s in front of her, her stance low and her eyes locked on Paige like she’s dating her to try something.

Paige smirks. She loves a challenge.

She dribbles left, then crosses over to her right, her movements sharp and quick. Jo stays with her, her defense tight, and Paige feels a flicker of frustration. Jo’s good—really good. It’s annoying, but also exciting. Paige thrives on competition, and Jo is proving to be one of the best matchups she’s had in a while.

Paige steps back, her dribble steady, and sizes Jo up. She tilts her head for a second, blue eyes locked on brown. And then, in a flash, she’s driving to the basket, using her speed to get a step on Jo.

But Jo recovers fast, her arms reaching out to contest as Paige goes for the layup. The ball rolls off the backboard and through the net, and Paige lands with a triumphant grin. She turns to Jo, who’s already jogging back to the other end of the court.

“Close,” Paige calls after her. “But not close enough.”

Jo doesn’t say anything, just glances over her shoulder with a knowing smile that makes Paige’s chest tighten.

The scrimmage continues, and it’s a back-and-forth between Paige and Jo’s teams. On offense, Jo’s movements are deliberate and precise, her passes crisp and her shot deadly. Her connection with Dorka is impressive, the brunette getting past Paige’s defense too many times for her liking, sending the Hungarian dime after dime. On defense, Jo’s relentless, always in Paige’s space, always making her work for every point. And it only gets worse when Nika and Jo double-team her, two of the best defenders on their team.

But Paige gives as good as she gets. She uses her quickness and court vision to set up her teammates, threading passes through tight spaces and hitting open shooters. She drives to the basket with her usual confidence, finishing through contact.

At one point, Paige gets the ball on the wing, Jo right in front of her. She dribbles a few times, rocking back and forth like she’s deciding what to do. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, she blows past Jo and pulls up for a mid-range jumper. The hall swishes through the net, and Paige can’t help but shoot Jo a quick, cocky grin as she hits back on defense.

Jo shakes her head, her own smile breaking through despite herself. “Not bad,” she says softly, just loud enough for Paige to hear.

“Not bad?” Paige echoes, feigning offense. “That was textbook.”

Jo just laughs a little, her eyes crinkling at her corners, and Paige feels the need to fight back one of her own. She shoves it down, focusing on the game, but the need is there, lingering, buzzing at the edges of her thoughts.

By the end of the scrimmage, both of them are drenched in sweat, their faces flushed from exertion. Jo’s team wins by a single point, thanks to a clutch three she drains in Paige’s face.

As they walk off the court, Paige shakes her head, a mix of frustration and admiration swirling in her chest. “You’re lucky I like you,” she says, bumping Jo’s shoulder with her own.

Jo grins, glowing with the face of someone who’s just won. “You just can’t handle the face that I’m better than you,” she teases, nudging her back.

Paige laughs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, yeah, keep dreaming ‘bout that one.”

But as they head to the locker room, Paige can’t stop the smile that tugs at her lips. There’s something so effortless about it all—like Jo’s meant to be here, meant to be Paige’s teammate, her roommate, her… quickly-growing-maybe-soon-best-friend?

Paige thinks back to one of their conversations a few nights ago. Jo had been sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through her phone while Paige was sprawled on the floor, eating Hot Cheetos, not paying any attention to the Grey’s Anatomy episode that was playing on the TV. They two of them had been talking about everything and nothing—summer classes, music, how gross Amari’s pasta was that she made the night prior. At one point, Jo had said something about how surreal it still felt to be here, with everyone, preparing to play Connecticut basketball.

Paige had looked up at her then, really looked at her, and felt this overwhelming sense of pride for someone she’s only known for a few weeks. Jo deserved to be here. She deserved every bit of success coming her way, and Paige couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

And Paige thinks that again now, as they walk side by side, knowing how much Jo Jacobson’s managed to make herself matter to Paige within a few measly weeks. Once again, not in a romantic way—because Jo’s in love with that boy, and it’s looking like she’s about as straight as they come—but in a way that feels just as significant. Jo isn’t just her teammate or her roommate. She’s almost like her person, or at least, she’s quickly becoming something of the sort.

JO WAKES UP groggy, her body tangled in sheets that suddenly feel too warm. Her head pounds slightly, though not from drinking—she’d been stone-cold sober last night. No, her headache stems from the distinct lack of sleep caused loud, unmistakable sounds that had her burying her head under her pillow to drown them out. She stretches out in bed, her limbs tangling in the sheets as her brain sluggishly catches up to the morning.

The muffled, rhythmic noises that had bled through the thin apartment walls are still fresh in her memory, making her cringe and laugh all at once. Paige has been away some nights due to certain… activities… but yesterday was the first time she brought the activities home. Jo groans, dragging a hand over her face.

She grabs her phone off the nightstand, squinting at the brightness of the screen. 11:07 AM. Too late to justify staying in bed any longer but not quite late enough to feel and about sleeping in. With a sigh, she swings her legs over the side, her bare feet hitting the cold floor.

The idea of a run floats into her mind—something to shake off the sleep-deprivation gaze and clear her head. She pads over to her dresser, grabbing her tiny back Lululemon shorts that are probably a little too short for decency and a snug tank top that clings to her in all the right ways. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she ties her hair into a ponytail. Good enough.

If it was any other day, she’d knock on Paige’s door and ask if she wants to come along. They’ve started running together some mornings, and Paige’s competitive streak always makes it fun. But this morning, she doesn’t even consider it.

Jo knows Paige had company last night. Loud company. She rolls her eyes just thinking about it, fighting off a smirk. Paige wasn’t exactly subtle, and Jo doesn’t need the details to know what went down in the room across the hall. Whoever the girl was probably slept over, and the last thing Jo wants is to walk into Paige’s room and catch them in some awkward post-hookup moment.

With a sigh, she leaves her room and heads to the kitchen. The apartment is quiet now, a contrast to last night. Jo opens the fridge, pulling out what she needs to make herself a smoothie. As she gathers them, she shakes her head, still bemused by Paige’s complete lack of shame. It’s not like Jo’s a prude—she’s in a long-term relationship herself—but Paige’s ability to just… live her life so unapologetically is both baffling and oddly admirable.

Jo starts piling everything into the blender, her movements slow and deliberate as her tired bran catches up with her body. The faint hum of the apartment feels peaceful—until she hears the quiet freak of a door behind her.

Jo turns, expecting Paige, but her eyes widen slight at the sight of that greets her instead.

Celeste Sinclair.

The team’s media girl.

Jo blinks, not quite believing her eyes. Celeste looks like she’s just stumbled out of a damn tornado. Her fiery red hair sticks up in every possible direction, and her oversized T-shirt is unmistakably inside out. Her cheeks are flushed—whether from embarrassment or something else, Jo isn’t sure—and she’s moving with the caution of someone who really doesn’t want to be noticed.

Well, too late for that.

Jo bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from outright laughing. Of all people, Paige chose her? It’s not like Jo’s judging—she’s not. But the sheer audacity of Paige hooking up with the team’s media girl is enough to make Jo want to burst out laughing. Like, she knows Paige is kind-of unapologetically a slut, but damn.

Celeste freezes when she sees Jo, her eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. For a long moment, neither of them says anything, the awkward tension hanging thick in the air.

Finally, Jo decides to break the silence. “Hi, Celeste,” she says slowly, keeping her tone light and her smile as kind as possible. She’s not about to be rude—that’s not who she is—but the situation is so ridiculous it takes every ounce of self-control to not smirk, let alone cackle at the girl before her.

“Hi, Jo,” Celeste replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifts awkwardly, clearly mortified with the whole situation.

Jo glances back at the blender, pretending to focus on it to give Celeste a moment to collect herself. “Um…” Jo begins, trying to think of something to say that won’t make this worse. Keeping her tone as genuine as possible, she gestures to the blender and asks, “Do you want a smoothie?”

Celeste’s eyes widen even more, and she shakes her head so fast her hair bounces. “Thanks, but um—I’ve got to go,” she says, her words tumbling out in a rush. Without waiting for a response, she bolts for the door like her life depends on it.

It clicks shut behind her, and the apartment falls silent again. For a moment, Jo just stands there, staring at the spot where Celeste had been.

And then she loses it.

Jo leans over the counter, her forehead pressing against her folded arms as laughter shakes from her shoulder. She turns the blender on as she tries to stifle it, the sound of the mixing swallowing the sound of Jo’s giggles. The entire situation—the ungodly loud moans from last night, Celeste’s walk of shame, the inside-out shirt—is just too ridiculous.

She barely registers the sound of Paige’s door opening again until her roommate’s voice cuts through the hum of the blender.

“You gotta be doin’ that right now?” Paige asks groggily, her words slow and raspy from sleep.

Jo lifts her head slightly, peeking out between her fingers to see Paige standing there, rubbing her eyes with one hand and bracing herself against the doorframe with the other. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing plaid pajama pants that hang low on her lips and a black Nike sports bra, her toned arms and midriff catching the faint morning light streaming through the blinds.

Jo doesn’t answer right away, partly because she’s still laughing and partly because her gaze catches on the faint purple mark blooming on the side of Paige’s neck.

That does it. Jo’s face drops back into her hands as another wave of laughter overtakes her, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“What’s funny?” Paige asks, her voice tinged with curiosity and laced with a tired, small smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. She crosses her arms loosely over her chest, leaning against the doorway as she watches Jo with a bemused expression.

It takes Jo a full minute to catch her breath. When she finally looks up, her cheeks ache from smiling, and her stomach feels sore from laughing so hard. She swipes at the corner of her eye, blinking away the last remnants of her amusement before finally answering.

“Celeste is crazy, P,” the brunette says, shaking her head as if she can’t quite believe it herself.

The effect is immediate. A pink flush creeps up Paige’s neck and into her cheeks, the color depending as she straightens up slightly. Her arms uncross, and she fidgets, her fingers curling against the hem of her pajama pants.

“You saw her?” Paige asks, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. For a brief moment, Jo notices something she doesn’t usually associate with Paige: embarrassment. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a flicker of vulnerability in the way Paige avoids her eyes and rubs the back of her neck. It surprises Jo—the blonde has never seemed particularly guilty when discussing her extracurricular activities with their teammates, so why would this be any different?

“Heard her, too,” Jo says, her grin threatening to split her face. Her tone is teasing, light, but she doesn’t miss the way Paige’s blush deepens. Jo can’t resist pushing it just a little further. She leans forward, putting on her best mock-whiny impression of Celeste, and moans dramatically, “Paige! Oh, Paige, don’t stop!”

Paige’s eyes immediately widen in horror, and her mouth drops open in indignation. “Shut up!” she exclaims, grabbing the nearest thing she can find—Jo’s stuffed animal, Bubbles—and tossing it at her with as much force as she can muster.

Jo catches it with ease, still laughing as she hugs the plush turtle to her chest, feigning offense. “Hey! Don’t be throwing Bubbles like that,” she pouts, sticking her lower lip out in exaggerated mockery.

Paige rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she shuffles toward the counter. She drops onto one of the barstools, her elbows propped up on the surface as she buries her face in her hands for a moment. When she looks up again, she’s rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Sorry,” she says softly, her voice tinged with genuine guilt. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Jo arches a brow, her amusement softening into incredulity. “Literally nothing could’ve put me to sleep during that,” she deadpans, turning back to the blender and shutting it off.

Paige straightens up slightly, defensive now. “Well, you’ve always got your fuckin’ noise machine so loud. I thought that might drown it out!”

Jo shakes her head, still grinning. “Nothing could’ve drowned that girl out, P.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s no malice behind it. She doesn’t actually care—not really.

Paige frowns, mumbling, “Sorry,” again as she picks at the edge of the counter.

Jo places Bubbles down gently, her smile softening. “It’s okay,” she says, and she means it. Jo isn’t the type to hold grudges, especially not over something as silly as this. Besides, Paige’s bashfulness is almost endearing—it’s not a side of her Jo sees often.

She pours the smoothie into two glasses, sliding one across the counter toward Paige before taking a sip of her own. The cool, fruity flavor is refreshing, cutting through the heaviness of the morning.

“Get changed,” Jo says after a moment, her tone light and commanding. She flashes Paige a cheeky, sunshine-stained smile. “We’re going on a run.”

Paige groans, leaning back dramatically. “Do we have to?”

“Yes,” Jo replies, her grin widening. She lifts her glass in a mock toast before adding, “And you’re paying for my post-run cake pop.”

That earns her another groan and a half-hearted glare from Paige, but Jo knows she’s already won. The promise of Starbucks is enough to get Paige moving, even if she grumbles the whole way there.

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