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luveline · 1 year ago

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𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses).

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.”

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.”

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you.

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat.

“What time is it?” you ask.

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?”

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds.

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic.

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him.

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling.

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him.

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed.

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips.

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.”

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.”

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one.

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.”

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.”

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.”

“Can you sit up, at least?”

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?”

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard.

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Was that a dracula impression?”

“I command you.”

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out.

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.”

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him.

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?”

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.”

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.”

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…”

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity.

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.”

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.”

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.”

“But for how long?” you ask.

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to.

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms.

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?”

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.”

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.”

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now.

You shut your eyes.

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums.

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?”

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say.

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life.

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along.

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath.

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.”

“Do you want to?”

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too.

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–”

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.”

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?”

“Remus–”

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head.

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.”

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo.

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder.

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess.

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.”

“After that?”

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely.

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed.

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud.

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid.

He flinches.

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but.

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you?

What are the rules here?

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay.

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep.

He should let you sleep.

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm.

“Mm?” you hum.

“I need to ask you something.”

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do.

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.”

“I just need to ask you something.”

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness.

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?”

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you.

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him.

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple.

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.”

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense.

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?”

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek.

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate.

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.”

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says.

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.”

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways.

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say.

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight.

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it.

“I'm chucking them out!”

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?”

“What?!”

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?”

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm.

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.”

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy.

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company.

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.”

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him.

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off.

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease.

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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azrielbrainrot · 3 months ago

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A Helping Hand

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: A seemingly innocent confession ends with you in Azriel's bed.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, some dirty talk

Word Count: 1,2k

Notes: I've been having a bit of writer's block and decided to just finish this little prompt I had in my notes since forever ago. Hope you enjoy!

It's hard to remember how you ended up here. It's hard to remember your own name to be honest. You think it would even be possible for you to forget how to breathe when Azriel's fingers have set such a mind numbing rhythm, stretching you out so deliciously.

One minute you were confessing to your friend about how no male had ever made you finish, and the next you were lying naked on his soft mattress, his hazel eyes half lidded with desire as he cooed down at the mess you were making and all the sinful noises you were letting out.

“Are you still with me, pretty?”

You let out a loud moan at the question, one he punctuated with a deeper, sharper thrust. Hands clutching onto his soft hair to pull him in closer, his lips meeting yours, allowing you to indulge yourself for a moment. You can't believe you've lived this long without the feeling of his lips on yours.

Azriel pulls away far too soon, your lips chasing his in a hopeless attempt of keeping him close, a whine escaping you when he moves completely out of your reach.

“I asked you a question,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he watches the way your pussy swallows his fingers greedily.

It takes you a moment to remember that he even spoke up let alone what he asked you. “Yes. Gods, yes. Please don't stop,” you find yourself begging when you do.

Azriel lets out a satisfied hum, leaning down to leave little bites and wet kisses all over your chest, almost purring when your fingers tangle in his hair, fingers alternating between massaging his scalp and pulling hard when the pleasure he's bringing you gets too much.

It doesn't take long for you to get impatient, drunk on the sensations he's bringing you, but still greedily needing more, your hips chasing his fingers, silently begging him to go faster, harder.

“Az,” you whimper when it's clear he won't listen unless you ask him to. “I need more.”

He abandons your chest with one last bite, looking up at your heavy lidded eyes, a smirk growing on his face.

“You think you're ready to cum?”

“Please.”

It's amazing how fast he reduced you to begging. You can't believe this whole thing started because you thought there was something wrong with you, or that you just couldn't cum with a partner when Azriel had reduced you to a pool of pleasure in a couple thrusts of his fingers. He hadn't even fully undressed you, simply pulling your dress up to your hips and then down your chest to keep his mouth busy. You can only imagine what else he could do if you gave him the chance.

“You don't have to beg. I told you I'd take care of you,” he says, looking down to your dripping pussy as he speeds up his thrusts, curling his fingers just right.

You were so, so close. It felt like you were staring down at the top of a precipice, only needing the slightest nudge to jump down into oblivion.

“You've been doing so good for me. Making such a pretty mess of my fingers.” He trusts his fingers in sloppily, showcasing just how much of a mess you're making, the sinful sounds echoing around the room along with your pathetic pants and whimpers. “Can you hear it?” You think you could be heard down the hall.

Azriel was never particularly talkative, even as you grew closer, he always prefered to listen rather than speak. You really could have never imagined him to have such a dirty mouth. It never occurred to you how attractive his voice was either, probably overshadowed by everything else, but now you think you could listen to him talk forever.

“You're so wet I think I could just slip right in,” he adds more to himself than to you, but it has a destructive effect all the same. A needy whimper escapes you, your cunt instinctively clenching around his fingers at the thought.

Of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by him, making him look up with a curious and feral glint to his eyes, “You'd like that?”

The reality of the situation sobers you up for a moment, realizing that this would have a noticeable shift to your friendship, one you cherished, but as his fingers threaten to slow down their pace, likely noticing the seriousness that you felt, you grab onto him.

“Yes, I would,” you confess, looking deep into his eyes.

He picks up his pace again, those burning hazel eyes never straying from yours. “I can fuck you. I can show you every little thing those bastards never did, bring you pleasure you never thought possible,” he says, “but first you need to cum for me, alright?”

Dropping a quick kiss to your lips, Azriel moves down your body, leaving open mouthed kisses as he goes, his fingers never stopping or giving you a moment to breathe properly. He stops for a moment, lingering around the waistband of your panties, sucking a mark right above where you needed to feel him so desperately.

You're not sure if he's waiting for permission, but your hand falls to his head when it's clear he won't move on his own, giving him a more than encouraging nudge. He complies with a chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine, his warm breath ghosting over your wet flesh.

When his mouth closes around your clit, you feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure rush over you, lasting only a couple slow circles of his tongue around the sensitive spot before you cum, head falling back against the mattress, back arching into him as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a silent moan of his name.

Your fingers tighten around his hair though you're unsure if you were pulling him closer or trying to push him away in the middle of the mind numbing sensations. The resulting groan he releases sends vibrations over you, only adding to the already destructive orgasm you were experiencing.

It takes you a bit to come down, and when you do you find Azriel looking down at your face, pride distinguishable in his eyes, his fingers still working inside you softly, fucking you all through your orgasm.

He smiles at you when he catches you watching him through heavy lidded eyes, “So,” he stops his movements, bringing his face, still covered in your release, closer to you. “Do you still think there's something wrong with you?”

The idea is laughable to even consider now, and you can't help the disbelieving chuckle that escapes, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a kiss.

“No, I think I just have terrible taste,” your murmur, caressing his cheek with the pad of your thumb, “Thank you for this, Azriel.”

“You don't have to thank me, love. I was more than happy to help,” he pecks your lips, a suggestive smile taking over his features, “And I still am, whenever you need me to.”

“Actually,” a grin of your own growing, your legs wrapping around his waist, almost moaning out when you felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against your sensitive heat, feeling insatiable even though he just gave you the strongest orgasm you've ever felt, “I think you just said you had a lot more to show me, right?”

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel smut #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader

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mondaymelon · 1 year ago

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— "𝘁-𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀?" ♥

:feat~ albedo, kaeya, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, alhaitham, kaveh x gn!reader:

⤷ we have a large crowd today here folks !! ⤷ cw: fluff because i don't know what to do in life !!

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

"...That... That was your first kiss?"

As ALBEDO pulls away, gaze hazy as the slightest red blazes across his face, his voice comes out as more of a whisper. He touches two gloved fingers to his lips, letting them linger there, before glancing up at you, a mix of confusion in his flushed expression.

"Ah, how peculiar... how could that be?" It's as if he's in a trance. He surely hasn't felt these emotions before, and everything seems all too... new. Like he's been submerged headfirst into a world that he never knew existed.

But your touch was warm, and with you, he'd be okay with anything.

"'Bedo, what do you mean by that?" You tilt your head, still feeling the remaining sensations of his lips against yours.

Suddenly, the male seems to grow even more bashful - a side to him that most never came close to seeing... after all, as the renowned Chief Alchemist would surely never be caught like this. Flushed cheeks, hitched breathing... yes, never.

Things just seemed to change for you, whether he liked it or not.

"Well..." He starts off louder than intended, and his voice grows softer almost instantly. "I just thought you were quite popular in Mondstadt, so..." His words grow even fainter as he ducks his gaze. "I thought you'd have experience with past lovers."

You almost laugh at the notion, shaking your head as you smile at the male. "Nono, 'Bedo. This was my first, with you."

Those last two words almost seem to make the male melt as his expression grows affectionate.

"Yes, dearest. You were my first, and you will be my only." ♥

"Ohoh, your first kiss?"

You can tell from the lilt in KAEYA's smooth voice that you've caught his interest. His hands are still behind your head, hopelessly entangled within your hair, since he'd been kissing none other than you so affectionately only seconds before. "Then, just now…" A smirk makes its way upon his lips. "I was your first, hm?"

When you meekly nod in response, he draws in a shallow breath, seeming to revel at the idea. You can see the twinkle that's found its way into his eyes as he stares at you with something different in his expression.

The silence is finally broken as he speaks again. "Dove, I couldn't-" He takes a moment to pause, swallowing. "I didn't think that..." For once, the man seems speechless, completely, utterly, speechless.

So he opts to the one thing he does know, leaning forward as he moves his lips to yours. And once he starts, he doesn't stop, relentlessly stealing your breath away.

It takes him quite a while to pull away, and when he does, his face is flushed, neat hair disheveled. "Fuck." And even though he's a mess right now, all his gaze is fixated on you.

"As your first, I'm special to you, right?"

His words come to sort of a surprise, was he still lingering on what you had admitted minutes ago? But all the same, you nod your head, smiling at the male. "Of course, Kae."

The use of his nickname nearly sends his head spiraling, but he manages to stay composed - as composed as he needed, anyhow.

He takes your hands in his, his skin slightly cool to the touch as he clasps both of them over his chest with an air of satisfaction.

"And just because I'm your first, don't think I'll be leaving you for anything." ♥

"Have you never engaged in such romances before?"

The way ZHONGLI speaks to you sounds like he's quite confused - and you'd be correct. He is, because how could it be that someone as lovely and flawless as you have never had a lover?

It didn't make sense, even for someone with a millennia of life's experiences.

Still, upon your confession, a part of him has been stirred. Could it be that you were waiting for your true lover to appear, so that you would be able to dedicate yourself to them with all of you? It was a traditional way of thinking, no doubt, but Zhongli was, and is, a traditional man.

Your first kiss... was all his?

The thought of such... a luxury sends the man's head into a flurry. Was it true? Of course it was, you would never lie to him - yet still a part of him held doubt, not because you might not be telling the truth, but because was someone as imperfect as him really to be the one to share such an intimate moment with you? As the very first?

Even as a god, Zhongli, or Morax, has his fair share of regrets - situations he could've changed, loved ones he could have saved.

Ah, but with the way he's feeling now, the way his heart thumps, the way his lips still hold the lingering feeling of you, and the way his face can only burn...

"It is my honor, love. Not to worry, we will most certainly have more opportunities to do the same in the future." ♥

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you being serious?"

It's almost laughable the way CHILDE instantly seems to brighten. You're pressed into his body, yet his grip on you only tightens, as if he's afraid to let go. When he speaks again, excitement in his tone only growing, there's also something else in his voice that you can't exactly interpret. "Then, your first kiss was with me??"

He believes you, but he wants to hear the words again, just to affirm himself. To hear them come from your very lips, for you to admit such a thing... his features grow more joyful by the second.

"Yes." You tilt your head to the side, rather quizzically. You aren't able to comprehend why he's so thrilled, but happy all the same. The way Childe smiles, not like the fake facade he wears like a mask, but his true smile. The one that forces his lips into a grin, the one that almost seems to make his deep eyes sparkle.

Maybe you were imagining things, yet still, his smile meant all that much.

The male makes a sound that's in between a gasp and a laugh, his boyish tone filtering into his voice unknowingly. Quickly, softly, so subtle you don't realize it at first, you find that his arms have found their way around your waist, hugging you closer to his frame.

To be in his arms, all of it. It feels perfect.

There's the sensation of something - Childe's fingers under your chin as he tilts it up, staring into your eyes with an unimaginable adoration under his.

"That may have been only your first kiss, but don't think you'll last a day without receiving another one from me!" ♥

"Know that if you are telling lies, you will be punished for desecration."

However, it's easy to tell from AYATO's jesting tone that he's merely joking - from the upturned corners of his lips to the way his eyes seem to glimmer, all of these signs are small hints you've learned to memorize in order to read his usual hindered expression.

After all, commissioner Kamisato Ayato is expected to wear such masks, and that is what he does.

"Ah, perhaps you'll confess to your crime if I do this?" His smooth voice brushes past your ear as he leans into you, whispering just shy of your face. Then, he bridges the mere centimeters between the two of you, meeting his lips against yours for the second time that night. He was warm, yet his touch was cool - all of it, the rush of emotion and expression, sent your heart aflutter with every second that passed.

As he moves away, a serene smile graces his lips upon seeing your flushed expression, while on the other hand, he merely seemed unfazed. "Ahah, so it was true."

His quiet laugh does wonders to your heart, regardless of the situation. Soon, you feel something else - the graze of his gloved hand, one finger running across your chin as he stares at you, gaze unwavering.

"You chose me, and I'll make sure you don't regret it." ♥

"Y-Your first kiss... with me... ah-"

And just like that, you've turned THOMA into even more of a stuttering, blushing mess than he was merely moments before he had pulled away from his first kiss with you. You can tell he's overwhelmed, by the way he grasps at your arm for support, almost like he's going to tip and fall over if he doesn't. His skin is warm to the touch, but it's always been that way.

When he finally manages to steady himself and speak, his voice is faint, barely reaching your ears. "Me, of all people...? You... You're truly too kind..."

And you can tell, from the way he gazes at you after he speaks those words, that he truly means it.

"Thoma, what do you mean by that? Of course I'd choose you, if not, who else?" You beam at him, smiling, and you can see the male perk up, almost like a puppy of sorts.

It was endearing, the way he adored you so innocently.

Ah, but he'd always been like this. Loyal, someone who'd always put you first, who valued your life over his own. You swear you can see his forest eyes glistening, threatening to tear up. "Love, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I love you, Thoma, and it's as simple as that."

And just like that, you've managed to capture his heart once more, a heart that you had already taken. He finds his place in your arms, leaning his head against your body with a smile, his own warmth merging with yours. He doesn't need to answer, doesn't need to say a word. The way his eyes sparkle with such unbridled infatuation is enough to confirm it.

"I love you, and that will never change." ♥

"I expected as much."

"...What?" ALHAITHAM's answer is one that's caught you off guard, despite all the other surprising occurrences that had happened that night, mainly how his lips had met yours. While it was over in the span of seconds, that moment seemed to have stretched out for an eternity.

Ah, but then you glance up, and something in your mind clicks. Maybe it's about the way he's gazing at you with the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, or the way his multicolored eyes glimmer. He's amused, and it's you who is the entertainment.

So you repeat your question. "What do you mean by that, Haitham?" You hadn't meant to sound so accusing, but it slips into your tone - the confusion, and perhaps the slightest shred of annoyance.

"Hm, should I leave it up to you to interpret?"

"..."

"Honestly, all I meant was that you seemed to be someone... inexperienced."

"...Elaborate?"

"Must I say more? You're a terrible kisser, that's what." A playful smile, graces his lips for the briefest moment. "But it's not a problem, hardly one at all. In fact, I enjoyed it." The male being so upfront about his feelings was a strange sight to behold.

"Hm, should I show you what a proper kiss looks like then?" And just like that, without waiting for an answer, he leans forward, hands roaming, one behind your chin and one behind your head, tilting you forward as his face meets yours, warmth spreading across your body like wildfire. Sudden, yes, but not unwelcome by any means.

You almost feel disheartened when he pulls away, breaths labored as he smirks. "Not much better, however..."

"I'm sure we'll have many more opportunities in the future." ♥

"...Darling, you have to stop me from falling in love with you all over again."

And KAVEH wouldn't be wrong - he's desperate. Because archons, every part of you, every small aspect of your being just sends him more and more deep into this hole he's dug for himself. Every time you laugh, he can hear his heart rate picking up, his face growing red. It's obvious when he's in love, both to him, and to the people around him.

He was already so hopelessly enraptured with you, yet every day, he could only feel himself grow more and more infatuated. It was something impossible to control, and perhaps that was why he chased it so much - the feeling of loving you.

You can only laugh at his words. "Aw Kaveh, that's too bad, isn't it?"

"Quite terrible indeed." Now he's laughing too, and not the quiet kind - the kind where he's nearly doubled over, one hand on your shoulders as he practically beams. "Now come on," he cups one hand around your cheek, smiling with a certain light in his eyes. "We can't just kiss once and call it a day, can we?"

"No Kaveh, we can't."

The warmth he feels with you is unlike anything else. Incomparable, perfect.

"You make it too easy to love you, darling." ♥

(a/n) i shouldnt have written so many characters the regret is very real but hey ive done it like the madlad i am adjosilkvsdv

7K notes · View notes

megwritesriddles · 2 months ago

Text

Sweeter Than Fiction ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 7 - Queening / Face-sitting. Spencer meets Reader when she starts working at his local library and he's quickly in over his head. After he goes snooping for information on her online, he finds out a dirty little secret, she writes fanfiction.

Tags: Face-sitting, Oral sex (f receiving), Fantasies, Masturbation, Pining, Friends to lovers, Love confessions, Sub!Spencer, Autistic!Spencer (implied ig?), Both Spencer and Reader are NERDS, Set somewhere between seasons 1-3.

Word count: 4.6k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Surprise!! I changed a couple things on my kinktober due to lack of inspiration so here's an unexpected extra Spencer fic!! This is soooo long and the plot is so self-indulgent and ughhh but he eats you out so...!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Spencer had never felt like this before, he hadn’t really had the chance to. Crushes had never really been his thing, having been significantly younger than his peers all throughout his education and being staunchly focused on his career ever since. He had physical attractions here and there, like an occasional reminder that he really was just a fallible human man as much as anyone else, but never any true feelings, nothing he ever wanted to try to pursue in a serious way. It wasn’t simple for him like it was for someone like Morgan, in many senses of the word. Not only was he just not socially skilled enough to pursue relationships, whether casual or otherwise, with any success, he also had a large set of difficulties that he would carry into any relationship. He was quite touch averse, not that he didn’t desperately crave it all the same, which could easily cause issues in any physical relationship. He also had a lot of emotional baggage, from his mother, from his job, from his bullying. He felt a mess emotionally and didn’t see the point in trying to bring in another person to see the mess in all its glory. So he kept to himself. He wasn’t completely without experience, but every experience he’d had was marred with difficulty and complication, none of it ever lasted. He was reasonably content to keep to himself.

Until he met you. He’d been visiting the library nearest his apartment since he moved to D.C. for work. One day he walked in and you were sitting behind the desk, all bright-eyed and excited. The attraction to you had been immediate, he’d found you to be beautiful, he liked the way you dressed, and he liked your sweet voice as you spoke to the customer in front of you. He thought it would end there, that he would silently find you attractive from afar but remained more focused on other things. Cursed to stammer nervously at you whenever you scanned his books, but never say more than necessary. For a long time, that’s all it was, until he was taking out a book that, unbeknownst to him, was a big favourite of yours.

“Oh my goodness, my favourite” you chuckle as you pick up the book from his pile. “This book is amazing, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” you smile brightly as you scan it onto his card. His fingers twitch where he rests them on the edge of the wooden counter. He hadn’t been prepared to talk to you, but it’s nicer than most things that catch him unprepared.

“Y-yeah? Uh… great,” he swallows, drumming his fingers on the counter as you scan the rest of his books, mostly textbooks.

“Well, if you have any taste that is,” you tease. He laughs back stiffly, his mouth feeling dry.

“I uh… like to think I do…” he smiles awkwardly.

“You’ll have to tell me what you thought of it,” you hand him the books and his brain blanks for a moment. You’re inviting him to speak to you some other time, to have an actual conversation. He moves jerkily, taking the books from you and packing them into his satchel. You smile kindly and wave to him as he leaves. “See you soon,”

The way his mind is spinning from that simple conversation, he knows that this is something different. He collapses onto a bench outside the library, taking a deep breath. Why is his heart racing? Is this what butterflies feel like? He rubs a hand through his hair, messing it up. When the anxiety fades away, he’s left with a warm feeling in his chest. You want to speak to him again. He flips open his satchel and pulls out the book you’d said was your favourite. It’s classic literature, something he’s been meaning to read for a long time now, but has somehow never gotten around to. He devours the book in mere minutes, thanks to his impressive reading speed. It’s an amazingly compelling tale, with feminist undertones that were ahead of their time and he feels he understands you just a little better by knowing you like this book. He packs it back into his satchel and stands, heading back into the library. The queue to your desk is a few people long, but he joins it anyway, fiddling with the strap of his bag. You don’t make much small talk with the people in front of him in the line, making it feel all the more special that you’d spoken to him. He reaches the front and you smile, but tilt your head in confusion.

“Forget something?”

“The book was great,” he blurts, and you look even more confused.

“What?”

“The book, the one you said was your favourite, it was phenomenal, and surprisingly progressive for its time! Having those sorts of sentiments about a woman's role in a marriage in the 18th century, while seeming slightly archaic by today's standards, must have caused quite a stir at the time, especially coming from a female author. British law in 1764 actually suggested that women–” he doesn’t realise he’s rambling until you cut him off.

“Hold on, you read it already?” you look disbelieving. He smiles sheepishly. “I only lent it to you, what?” you glance at the clock on your desktop screen. “15 minutes ago,”

“I can read very fast,” he mumbles, looking at the scuff on the toe of his shoe for a moment. You giggle.

“Yeah, clearly,” you study his face. He goes quiet, eyes flickering over the small decorations you had scattered across your desk as a means of personalising your space. “You were saying?” you prompted softly. He looked up at you in wonder, no one had ever requested he resumes an info dump, usually, he was told to shut up and looked weird, but you seemed to wait with genuine interest. Perhaps that was the moment that he was well and truly done for. He steps aside so that the person behind him in the line can get their books scanned. He talks at you for almost a whole hour, getting lost in tangent after tangent as you work. You occasionally pipe in to ask a question or make a comment, but you seem happy to listen. Suddenly, your already beautiful appearance becomes more like that of an angel or a goddess to him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life. He leaves the library after you excuse yourself for your lunch break. Once he gets home, he sits down on his couch, smiling dopily. Then, it slowly dawns on him that he’d just stood there and rattled on about various topics that he had no clue if you even had any interest in. He buries his face in his hands and groans. Has he already ruined things with the first person he’s ever felt anything genuine for? It was bound to happen eventually, but this soon? He goes to bed miserable that night.

Fortunately, his misery had been for nothing. The next time he visits the library, you’re there, all smiles at him like usual. When he comes to return his previous book haul (yes, maybe he hasn’t used the returns box since you started working here, what of it?), you greet him, asking if he has any more facts for you. At first, he thinks you’re mocking him, but the genuine smile you give tells him otherwise. He scrambles through his mind for something interesting to tell you, feeling less than a genius at this moment. He settles to ask what your favourite animal is, then spends the next several minutes telling you all the nichest information about that animal he could think of. This time, you start to talk too, though instead of spewing facts, you’re telling him personal anecdotes, or about new books the library has got in. The next several times he comes in, you end up talking for long periods of time. You never interrupt him when he rambles and in return he allows you to ramble too, not bothered by the slightest if he has to listen to you for hours. He’d do it happily. Things escalate over time, and he realises the two of you have truly become friends. The thought excites him, as he is closer to the object of his affection, but also because he doesn’t have all that many friends outside of his work. With you, he has somebody to talk books with, and that means the world to him. You text daily, though they’re not particularly long conversations, just whenever something comes up that you think might interest the other. You’d originally given him your email address and he’d explained that he didn’t use email. He felt completely silly, but you’d just shrugged it off and given him your number. Despite that, he still keeps the piece of paper onto which you scrawled your email address, tacked up by his seldom used computer. Just in case.

The team at the BAU tease him relentlessly when they find out about the ‘sweet girl from the library’ that he texts everyday. Any hint of him interacting with a woman, they latch onto like rabid wolves, but when the texts from you keep popping up on his phone now and then for weeks, they absolutely won’t leave it alone. They all know he likes you, even if he’s been very careful to not reveal this fact and they tease him about it. He’s just glad you’re never there to hear it, as he might just die from the embarrassment. One week, while staying back from a case due to a mild cold, he sits in Garcia’s office and watches her work while he does his own. She had insisted he come keep her company, and he hadn’t quite dared to tell her no. He’s scribbling down some notes about the latest crime scene photos they’ve been sent through when Garcia receives a call. It’s Morgan, asking her to run a check on an email address that may potentially belong to an unsub, to see what kind of accounts can be linked to it, and if there’s anything untoward and potentially warrant-worthy. He watches over her shoulder as she types the email address into a program, which spits back out several accounts all over the internet. He rolls his chair over, watching curiously.

“How do you do that? Is it for FBI stuff only?” he asks nervously, twirling a pen around in his fingers. Garcia laughs and glances over her shoulder.

“No, you can find programs to do this in various places online,” she answers, highlighting accounts of potential interest. He nods, still watching over her shoulder, working his lip between his teeth. He tries to convince himself that he’s not going to do it, even as he asks Garcia to write him down one of these websites. She gives him a knowing look but obliges. He keeps telling himself he won’t do it, and that it’s creepy as he gets the train home, but as soon as he’s in his apartment, he heads for his computer and boots it up. He searches up the site that Garcia recommended and tells himself one last time that he isn’t going to do it, before copying your email address into the search field and hitting enter. He waits as the website loads the results, glancing at the door to his apartment as if you’re going to burst in and tell him off. Oh, how he wishes you’d be in his apartment one day, or he at yours. He’s never really wanted to share a space before, but lately, everything he does he imagines what it would be like to have you there. Your arms around him as he cooks, your head on his lap as he watches TV, your body against his in the bed. The website finishes its search and he takes a deep breath, investigating the results. There are various common social media websites, accounts with academic journals (which he appreciates you for), and a couple of other sites he doesn’t recognise. He clicks on the first and furrows his brows. Fanfiction? He supposes that you are a voracious reader like he is, and you mentioned liking to write, but never admitting to what you wrote. This was it then, was it? Your secret writing? It wasn’t that secret, the account was registered in your name, all the works listed being for books and media that you talked about often. You had quite a decent following, at least in his eyes, you were no celebrity, but you had a decent collection of comments and likes.

He starts to read, beginning with your most popular piece. He digests it in moments, his cheeks burning bright. It was pure pornography. Well not purely, there was quite a well-woven storyline behind it, but the focus was undoubtedly the filthy sex scenes. He loosens his tie, feeling hot. He double and triple checks that this is definitely your account, but it clearly is. He’s feeling a little disbelieving, you had just always seemed so innocent to him, but he supposed the two of you had never discussed sex in any way. Spencer would have combusted if it had ever come up. He inhales the rest of your work, getting unreasonably hard in his slacks as he reads. He’s impressed by the skill of your writing, but more than anything, by how delicious your imagination is. It’s like you’ve plucked every fantasy he’s ever allowed himself to have out of his brain and written it up with beautiful flowery language. He doesn’t know half of the characters that you’ve written for, but it doesn’t matter to him, as he imagines the two of you in their places and it works perfectly. Almost like it was written with the two of you in mind. He discards that thought, but not before noticing that you’ve been writing a lot more in the past few months you’ve known each other. He notices how many of your stories centre around a more submissive male, a favourite trope of yours seeming to be having the female partner sit on their face. He imagines you sitting on his face and groans aloud, having to palm his bulge through his slacks. He imagines you’d be like the protagonists in your stories, dominating but kind. He reaches into his slacks to stroke himself, not something he does often, but something that has certainly been more frequent lately. His eyes skim a passage of one of your stories as he tugs at himself, picturing your face between the words. He cums harder than he thinks he ever has because this feels that much closer to the real thing. Once he’s done, he sits catching his breath, staring at the mess on his hand and stomach. He thinks he should feel ashamed, but he’s still aroused, terribly so. He wishes he could show you what you do to him. Before he can stop himself, his aroused brain much less intelligent than he usually is, he makes an account on the site with his name and leaves a comment on your most recent work.

“This was the hottest thing I’ve ever read,”

He sends it and sits back, wiping the rest of the residue off his stomach. As the haze of arousal lifts, he realises what he’s done. Panicking, he tries to delete the comment, but there’s no option to. He swallows, taking a deep breath. It’ll be okay, he tells himself, if she ever notices, I’ll pretend I was just being sarcastic, teasing her for writing this kind of thing, not genuinely rocked by it. However, his phone is already ringing. It’s you. You never call. You couldn’t have seen the comment already, could you? He seriously debates not answering, even as he’s desperate to hear your voice. Against his better judgment, he picks up the phone.

“Am I speaking to SpencerReid1981?” you chuckle over the phone, your voice teasing as you recite his username. His plans to pretend he was mocking you go out the window the second you talk. He can tell you have one over him by the confident tone in your voice. You’ve had one over him since the day you first met.

“Y-yeah,” he relents, seeing no way out of this now. What would the chances be of another Spencer Reid born in 1981 having commented on your fanfiction? If he wasn’t so nervous and lingeringly aroused, he could’ve told you. He decides to just be earnest. “You’re a really good writer,”

“How did you even find me on there?” you scoff, laughing gently. He blushes, glad you can’t see it.

“You don’t want to know,” he mumbles. There’s a moment of silence.

“So… you found it hot, huh? What part?” he chokes slightly on his spit, going bright red, you can probably tell, even through the phone.

“Don’t make me say it,” he squeaks. You hum softly on the other end.

“Oh come on… you started all this,” you coax. He’s silent for another beat, you hear his laboured breaths on the phone.

“The- when- when she uh… sat on his face,” he stutters out. You smirk.

“Really?” you stretch out the last syllable in a playful manner. “You a big giver then?” you say it to tease him, expecting him to sputter and deny it, to beg to change the subject, but he doesn’t.

“I– I would be for you,” you both go silent, you in shock and him in fear of your reaction. You’re dumbfounded that he would ever be so direct with you. It’s been clear to you for a while that he has a thing for you, you’ve caught his lingering looks on your lips or your thighs, the way you’re able to fluster him, but you’d assumed he’d dance around it forever. He’d just essentially admitted, leaving it hanging in the air.

“Come over,” you answer simply, hanging up the phone before he can ask questions or change his mind. Spencer feels completely dumbstruck by your words. Come over? His legs are carrying him to his door before he can think about it. He grabs his bag and his coat and hurries to his car. He’s never driven so fast in his life, he’s only been at your place once, to drop you off after your work, but the way there is memorised like the back of his hand anyway. He worries in the back of his mind that he may get a speeding ticket, but any fine is worth it for you. He’s sprinting up the stairs of your apartment building, his long frame moving nimbler than ever before. He reaches your apartment and knocks at the door.

You answer the door, dressed in some loungewear and he suddenly realises how real this all is. He stands there staring, unable to do anything else, even as you greet him and tell him to come in. You have to take his arm and pull him inside, your hand on his arm lighting him on fire. But he’s shy again, he needs you to take control of this because he has no clue what he’s doing here. He’s never done something like this before, and he's never been so reckless. Did he even lock the door when he left home? You look so beautiful that everything could be stolen from him and he wouldn’t bat a lash. He fidgets, looking anywhere but your eyes. You’re talking to him but he can’t figure out what you’re saying, his brain feeling like mush. He tries his best to pick out some words from the pleasing hum of your voice. You’re saying something about your bedroom. He connects the dots when you start to pull his arm.

“Wha- wait, what are we doing?” he asks, his voice shaking. You freeze, tilting your head.

“What do you mean what are we doing?”

“I mean– uh– I wasn’t really– are we…?” he stammers, his fingers fidgeting.

“Don’t you want this?” you frown, worrying you’d misread this somehow, even though he’d come rushing over here. He stares at you, eyebrow twitching. You move closer, gently smoothing your hand up his arm. He closes his eyes, losing himself in it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, even though he’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to. Whatever it is, if it’s preceded by you touching him like this, it must be good. He follows you like a puppy as you guide him to your bedroom. You place your hands on his chest and he whines, somewhere deep in his throat. The feeling is just so overwhelming in all the best ways. His eyes are wide staring down into yours as your fingers twist, gripping his sweater vest. You lean up, touching your lips to his and he’s whining again. He kisses back, his hands finding your hips, hovering. Your hands are raking through his hair.

“Lie on the bed for me,” you mumble between kisses. He shivers.

“Are you going to sit on my face?” he asks bluntly, needing to know if he’s getting what he’s been thinking about non-stop since earlier this evening, probably even before that. You chuckle at his candour, he’s always been like this and it’s endearing that he’s no different in this situation.

“That’s the idea,” you grin, tilting your head to the side to press closer as you kiss him. He shuffles toward the bed and you push him back to lie down, disconnecting your lips to pull his sweater vest off. He looks up at you pleadingly until you lean down to kiss him again. You straddle his stomach, his hands lie awkwardly at his sides. His breathing is erratic and his fingers fiddle nervously with the material of your sheets. “You okay?” you ask between slow wet kisses.

“Just nervous… I don’t– I can’t disappoint you and I– I don’t really have a lot of experience here,” he admits, his lips pressing needily against yours between words.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll take care of you,” you promise, he nods against you. Even he’s surprised by how much he trusts you. You pull back, watching as he stares up at you, his eyes practically black. He’s panting heavily. You pull your shirt over your head, feeling his hips buck under you as your breasts come into view. He’d always known every inch of you would be perfect for him, and he was right. He was a genius after all. You move just enough to shed your pyjama pants, taking your underwear with them. You stuff your panties into Spencer’s slack pocket with a wink. He takes a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” he exhales, eyes drinking you in. You giggle, shuffling up to straddle his chest. He swallows loudly, his mouth watering from the little glimpse he can get, craning his neck. “I’m so… glad we’re doing this,” he whispers. You chuckle again at his behaviour. You stroke his hair gently and his eyes flutter. He usually hated unexpected touch, but everything you did was blissful.

“Ready?” you ask softly. He nods, eyes fluttering back open, determined to get a glimpse of you that he can commit to memory.

You lift up and shuffle yourself over top of his face. He gasps like he’s just seen God. You, spread open above him, glistening with want. He grips tightly at the sheets, trying to keep himself grounded as the heady smell of you fills his nose. He leans up and places a gentle, experimental kiss on your folds, whining as he does so. You hum softly, leaning forward to brace yourself against the headboard. Puffs of breath wash over your core for a moment, before Spencer leans up, flattening his tongue and laving it against you, up and down, slow and steady. You can tell he’s still finding his way, so you let yourself enjoy the gentle pleasure. You sigh encouragingly as he gets acquainted with the area, exploring it with the tip of his tongue. Never in a million years would he have guessed that you tasted so good. Though he was new at this, he knew anatomy well and knew the spots he’d be looking for. His tongue finds what he assumes to be your clit and he gives it a soft kiss, feeling your hips gently buck. Success. He swirls his tongue carefully around it, not wanting to overwhelm you. Your sighs increase in volume. Spencer takes a chance, lifting his hands and wrapping them around your thighs, pulling you down so you’re more seated on his face. You gasp slightly and he smiles, eagerly returning to his work. His tongue laps at you hungrily, getting into a rhythm. He breathes through his nose, not wanting to stop what he’s doing for even a moment. The taste of you gets stronger and stronger against his tongue as you approach your peak steadily. He groans at the taste. Your hand snakes down into his hair, gripping his long locks to keep yourself anchored. You moan above him, your head lolled forward against the headboard. As he starts to focus his tongue more pointedly on your clit, flicking gently like he read to do in a book once, your hips rut slightly.

“Suck it,” you pant. He doesn’t register your words for a moment but when he does, he happily complies. His lips close around the little nub and he sucks carefully. Your hand tightens in his hair and you wail in pleasure. You grind yourself down onto his face as he suckles at you gently. You both know what’s coming and while Spencer is thrilled he could get you there, he almost doesn’t want it to end. It’s as if you read his mind. “Don’t stop,” you whine, your eyes squeezed shut, nails digging slightly into his scalp. He pulls you closer to his face, focusing all his efforts. He switches fumblingly between licks and sucks, but it seems to be working nonetheless as you become louder and louder. “Oh! Spencer!” you cry out, your whole body shuddering. He almost comes in his pants at the sound of it. “Ooooh!” you wail, reaching your peak. Your body tenses and then releases, going limp with bliss. His lips stop moving and he stares up at you, waiting for your next move. “Oh, that was amazing Spencer,” you sigh, sluggishly moving down his body until your faces are level. He licks his lips, gazing at you adoringly. You reach up to wipe his wet chin with a small smile.

“I was okay, then?” he chuckles nervously, his hand coming to your waist, a little unsure.

“What do you think, genius?” you tease, kissing his temple. He sighs and flutters his eyes closed. Everything had happened so fast, he wasn’t sure what this meant for the two of you and your friendship, so blinded by lust when he got over here. But you were kissing down his jaw and neck, not indicating that you were kicking him out, and he felt a little better for it. He notices that your lips are straying quite low, over his chest and stomach through his shirt. His eyes flutter open and his breath hitches as he sees you gazing seductively up at him.

“Wha–?” he stammers as you start to unbuckle his belt.

“Returning the favour,” you smile, pressing kisses where his shirt had ridden up. He moans softly, his brain starting to turn to mush once more.

“God, I love you,” he gasps. You both go still for a moment as his words sink in. He can’t believe he just said that, especially right now, with your head hovering over his crotch, even if he desperately means it. He opens his mouth to try and fix this but you beat him to it. You press a kiss just below his belly button.

“I love you too,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

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boofeine · 12 days ago

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Just read your ‘what makes svt vocal in bed’ and I started giggling and kicking my feet at Cheol’s. Would love to see you go into further detail because I just KNOW that man loves seeing the claw marks you leave on his back and arms 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS: mdni, (small) pain kink, marking, scratching, pet name, swearing, mentions of cumming inside, rough sex, raw sex

As a leo, this man just loves the little reminders you let on his skin. Seungcheol definitely wakes up the next morning, smiling and shaking his head to himself, staring at his naked reflection on the bathroom mirror, with the red marks of your scratches all over his back and arms.

The type to see your new nails done first thing. His light touch coming to your hands, so he can bring it close to his face and take a good look at the sharp and perfectly shaped nails. "Beautiful" He praises, caressing your fingers with his thumb, a smirk forming on his lips as he looks up to your face instead "They will make such beautiful marks" He says, letting a kiss to your hand before letting it go from his grip.

Seungcheol loves to go restless on you. His thrusts deep and fast as you squirm under him. He goes down to reach even further inside, your leg up on his arm as his breath fans on the nap of your neck with his animalistic pace while you moan on his ear. Your nails digging up on his back, going all the way down to his hips. The burning feeling of the scratch on his skin making him groan, his thrusts haulting with how much that affects him. "Fuck, I love when you do this... Shit! It feels so fucking good" he confesses.

He loves to edge you, just so he can see your desesparate state that includes tugging his arms and pulling his neck harshly, like you just need to find ground on something. Your pussy aching to cum, clenching around him so much with the needy moans of his name. His eyes rolling back when your legs come around his waist, caging him in between your legs, your nails drowning on his shoulders "cheol, please, i need to cum" you beg and how can he say no? A grunt leaving his lips and the same high coming to him, his balls tightening and breath pacing.

Seungcheol always want you under him, because he can't help but be addicted to the feeling of you cumming and gripping his biceps with so much force that has him going insane. But he also likes when he has you from behind, your head aligned with his shoulders as he fucks you. His dick gets so impossibly hard by the sight of your ass bouncing with his bucks. The way your knuckles turn white from handing tightly his thighs under you. Cry out moans filling the room as your back arch and the same familiar knot form on your stomach "Fuck! Cheol... so- goooo -o... -d... aaaah!" you stutter in between moans and his thrusts that makes your body shake. His hoarsy voice taking over "cum, pretty. let it go for me" he hums. Your nails pressing his skin like it was just sheets. The grip pushing the sides of his ass to keep fucking you as you feel your high approaching. "Shiiiiit" He swears under his breath. Your body stopping just to let it all out seconds after as you cum and make a mess on your inner thighs, his cock and balls. His eyes shutting and head lowering with a low moan as his load empty inside your cunt.

The rare times you get the chance to have him under you, he can also enjoy the view. The way your boobs bounce while you roll your hips on him. The way you arch your back and dig your nails to his abs when he starts to meet up your thrusts. He's so obsessed with the sight of the line of your neck and clavicle when you moan out with your head thrown back. You're so desesparate picking up the pace, not even realizing how you're going down to just beneath his core with your sharp claws, low groans coming out from him as you're too preoccupied on chasing your own high over his cock to even mind. He gets himself running laps underneath you. You know He's enjoying it, too.

#boofeine inbox #boofeine inbox: scoups #was wannabelife #seventeen #fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt headcanons #svt scenarios #svt smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups #scoups smut #scoups scenarios

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 5 months ago

Text

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Final Part ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon Targaryen x Little Sis! Reader prompt: Aegon would do anything, if it meant killing every ratcatcher or gold cloak in the city, he'd so. word count: 1, 000+ words

You wept and wept. Aegon feared that you would never be able to stop. Helaena was no better, locking herself up and shutting down. The two of you spiraled into madness and tears. It only made him drink and rage more. He hated to see you cry. You were supposed to be the happy one out of all of your siblings.

Aegon was the drunken mess, needing to be put in line. Helaena was the odd one, in a dream-like state. You were the perfect little angel, his perfect little angel. Aemond was the brooding one, face pulled into a stupid brooding look. Daeron was the forgotten one.

Now you were the broken one. Rhaenyra has stolen your smile. Rhaenyra had stolen his perfect little angel from him. She took the good from you, leaving him with a broken mess. A mess he wasn't sure of how to repair. So, he was going to do what he did best. He was going to get even.

If Rhaenyra wanted to take the one good thing he had in his life from him. He was going to burn everything she cared about to ash. Even if it made him a monster in the eyes of his own Court. Because you were worth burning the world down.

Blood and Cheese. Blood was one of his men, or now a former man of the City Watch. Cheese was a rat-catcher. That's how they knew how to get into the Red Keep. They were paid to kill Aegon's son. The worst part of all it had to be the fact that your son was "just in the way". They had no reason to kill him. He wasn't the one they had been paid to kill. They just killed him because he was in the way of things.

Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Aegon stares at the club in his hand, the metal rusted and jagged. Blood's words confession ringing in his ears. They killed his son for a debt, but yours because they thought of him in the way. Collateral damage. That was your son was, fucking collateral damage. Nodding his head for a moment, he thought of not killing the man, just leaving him to rot. But, another part of him truly wanted to see him bleed.

"You killed my son. You killed my sister's whole world." Aegon states, his voice cold. "My sister's loved their son's. And you just killed them."

"The Seven will never forgive you for this." Blood blubber's out, "To kill me.."

"Ah, yes, but the Seven aren't here, now are they?" Aegon mocks, adjusting his grip on the club.

Motioning around the Black Cell's, there was nothing but the rats and darkness there. No one to hear Blood's screams. No one there to help. It was just Blood and Aegon. Alone. Looking at the jagged end of the club, Aegon brushes his thumb over it, seeing it was sharp enough to cut. Though it would not be smooth or painless.

"You can fuck with me all you want. You can beat me. You can mock me." Aegon states, "Do as you please to me and I can endure it."

Blood sobs, the chains around his arms and legs clanging and jiggling loudly. Mercy was below, Aegon now. Mercy was not shown to his son or yours. Why the fuck should he show it to Blood?

"See, my friend. The thing is, you made my sister's cry." Aegon's face goes deadly cold, "I don't like bastard's that make my sister's cry."

Bringing the metal club down onto the man's head, he doesn't stop, unable to stop thinking of you. The way you wept, sobs full of heartache. The way you clung onto him, the blood on your nightgown seeping into his own clothes. The way the bastard made you cry. The way the bastard made you feel so unsafe in your own home.

The way the bastard made you doubt him. The way the bastard made you think he was a liar. Feeling a hand grab onto his forearm, he's pulled out of his daze, now realizing the man was now dead. His head caved in a bloody mess. Dropping the club, he takes a step back, licking his lips. He can taste blood on it, though it was not his own.

A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. They got there son. Now a debt was now owed, on behalf of your son. The cycle repeating over and over again. Lucerys died, Jaehaerys died in payment. Your son died, now Rhaenyra would die in payment.

"Your grace?" A kingsguard asks, "What shall we do with the body?"

"Feed him to the pig's. I have no desire for time or a hole to be wasted upon him." Aegon spits at the corpse for good measure.

Hearing the door to the chambers open, you couldn’t find the strength to get up from bed, clinging onto the blanket. You could still smell your son on it. He smelt of lemon cakes and mud. He always loved to steal the frosting off the lemon cakes, just like Aegon did. He was just a boy. He was innocent. Why him? Why? Feeling tears bubbling up, you did not wish to ponder on your son’s death. It forced you to think of the sounds of a head being sawed off.

Feeling the bed dip for a moment, you look over to see Aegon there, his doublet and breeches soaked in blood. Blood’s blood. Sniffling softly, Aegon leans over to you, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. It was comforting to be touched and tended to like this, like you were still a child and not a woman grown with responsibilities and duties. Like everything was still okay.

"It is done." He whispers, nodding his head.

You don’t say anything, not being able to find the right words. Even if you could, what would you say? “Oh, that is so amazing to hear from you, dear brother.” or some other bullshit.

"You have my word, I swear it upon my life. I will burn everything down that Rhaenyra loves." Aegon pledges, "From her favorite tailor to her favorite child. I will avenge your son, sister."

"Aegon.." You croak out, trying to find your voice.

"I will kill her myself. I’ll fucking feed her to my dragon.” He vows, “No one will remember the name Rhaenyra Targaryen, when I am done.”

“Aegon..” You try again, voice barely above a whisper.

"She'd be a fucking myth. She'll be a fucking ghost of the Red Keep. No, no, not even that. I won't even let her haunt the Red Keep."

He doesn’t hear you, clearly swept up in his plots and plans for revenge on your behalf. His words left not a drop of comfort.

“I will do anything that you ask of me. Just tell me what it is that you wish and I shall do it. I’ll kill whoever you wish⎯" He rambles on and on.

"Egg." You whisper, tears bubbling up.

The childhood nickname falling out of your lips naturally. You did not wish for grand words, for grand promises, or grand actions to be done in your name or favor. That was meaningless. Mayhaps when the grief dimmed, you would wish for revenge for your son. But, for now, at this moment. You just wanted your big brother to hug you. You wanted things to be back as they once were. Here you were just Y/n and he was just Aegon, your big brother. Not the King.

Feeling the tears bubble up more and more, you sniffle, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. You watch through teary eyes as he goes deadly still. You did not regret saying his old nickname. You just wanted to feel as safe and happy as you used to be in your childhood. You wanted to escape from the crushing reality that your son was dead and war was invincible now. Mayhaps it was childish. But, you wanted to be okay once more.

"Y/n.." He whispers, his face crumbling.

"Just hold me like you used to do." You whimper out, “Please.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

@lexi-anastasia-astra-luna

#house of the dragon #house of dragons #house of dragons x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #aegon ii targaryen #hotd x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #king aegon #aegon the second #hotd #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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pyxxiestyxx · 3 months ago

Text

Class-C

The shot glass sat in front of you, innocuous in appearance. If you couldn't smell the tang of citrus, if you didn't catch the occasional sparkle suspended in it, you might think it mere water.

In front of you, your affini friend rested her head on her hand. She practically bled smugness, the leaves around her neck slightly fluffed as if she was preening. You rolled your eyes, mirroring her posture for the hell of it.

"So this is your bet? Aren't Class-C's something on the 'dont mess with' list for terrans anyway?"

Her voice was a rolling purr as she answered, "Yes. This is different. A heavily diluted solution of a specific strain. No lasting effects, just the intense feeling of a Class-C dose for about two hours."

The bet was simple: You had to make it through thirty minutes without confessing your love for her, or begging to be her floret. She thought you couldn't do it. You thought she was full of shit. You had plenty of xenodrugs before, of course. Class A's and E's were fun and relaxing, but ultimately you were still in control of things.

Shrugging nonchalantly, you picked up the shot and threw it back, the sweet flavor hitting your throat and tingling slightly as it went down. You flipped the glass face down and slammed it onto the table, then looked up at her with a satisfying smirk. "Easy."

Her smile only widened. "We'll see." She flipped open her tablet and pressed a timer, starting a countdown clock. She showed you it had thirty minutes remaining, then flipped it closed. "No using the time you have left for rallying cries. Just you, me, and the lovely chemicals your brain is about to be swimming in. When the alarm rings, I'll administer the counteragent."

You scoffed, leaning back in my chair. "You didn't even wait until it had begun to kick in? Wow, you must really be confident."

"Oh, it begins nearly immediately. Already the drug is interacting with those neurons, mixing in with seratonin and oxytocin and a few other things besides."

You looked at her, doubtful. "Yeah? Then how come I don't feel any different?"

"Sweetie, you've leaned halfway across the table already. Move any further and you're likely to crush that shot glass you slammed down so viciously earlier." She gestured at your posture, causing you to hurriedly sit back into your chair with a blush.

"Shit, I...sorry. Got carried away." You glanced down at the shot glass, biting your lip as you realized that you *had* been rather violent with it. You carefully flipped it back upright, wiping the outside clean with your shirt. "Um. Sorry."

"Dear, did you just apologize to the glas-"

"NO!" Your face was properly red now. Oh *stars*, you had! You had just done something that embarrassing in front of your Best Friend and what if she thought you were silly now? Would she not want to hang out with you? You hoped not. You really enjoyed her compa....wait....

Frowning, you shook your head roughly, slapping your cheeks a little. It was just the drug. You were in control. The drugs were doing this. But unlike the A or E, it was more...subtle. or rather, it was potent, but you didn't even realize it until your best friend had pointed it out. Gosh, she's so kind...

"Um, t-thank you for helping me remember I was drugged." The words felt good to say. You wanted her to know how much you appreciated her after all. So you could win the bet!

...

The bet?

"Wait, what happens if I lose?" You realized you had forgotten to ask that before. Worried, you turned to look at her.

"Well, what would you like to happen, pet~al?" You blushed, realizing it was just like her to wait until you were...compromised before asking this. Well, jokes on her! You're still in control.

"Nothing! I don't want anything to happen. No new rules, no teasing, and no domestication. Got it?"

She nodded, sagely. "Of course. In that case, I take that to mean that should you win, you'll get all of those wonderful things~"

You sputtered in shock. "I- no! I don't want to... I'm...you can't be serious."

"Awww, is something wrong?" She smirked, her eyes flashing purples and golds in a way that made your heart melt. "All you have to do now is lose, then~ Or are you so stubborn, you can't admit that you l~o~v~e me, flower?"

"I-I...you... fucking...." You felt the indignation mix with the heady joy of her attention, of wanting to give into her, of wanting to beg. She was trying to goad you. She wanted you to win now. She had entirely turned the rules on their head.

But she also assumed you would take her bait. You shook your head, biting your lip. "I...fine. I admit it."

"Admit what?" She had begun to rise up slightly, her hands clutching the edge of the table. She was absolutely getting off on this. You couldn't even meet her eyes, looking away and down.

"I love you?"

"Mmmm....I don't believe you." You could hear the smile in her voice, full of wicked glee. "Say it louder, for one. And look me in the eyes~ and don't be afraid to put a little more emotion in it, dearie. This is a confession, after all~"

You whimpered, managing to drag your eyes up to meet hers. Reluctantly, you allowed the feelings you had been fighting for several minutes now to wash over you, letting them guide your words. "I l-love you...I need you..."

"I love you...?" She trailed off, waiting for you to complete it properly. You wanted to scream, but instead all that came out was "Miss?"

"Dear, it's just a game. You can use the one you want to use."

"I love you, Mommy."

"And?"

"A-and I want...I need to be your floret. I need it, please stars I need it. I...oh gods it's...I..." The feelings crashed through you in waves.

"Go~od job, petal. You did it." She slid the table out of the way, stepping into a kneel in front of you. "You said those mushy gushy feelings!"

You nodded, pleased...until you remembered what that meant. You weren't going to get anything now. You had just said so. Tears sprang up, and you had to stifle a sudden sob. "I...it's..."

She was lifting you into her arms now, cradling you closely to her chest. "Shhhh...petal, it's alright. You didn't lose, silly."

"I...w-what?"

She smiled at you. "How would love for another ever be seen as losing? You won, silly."

You won. That made sense to you now. Especially when She said it. You beamed up at Her, letting Her wipe the tears away. "I won..."

"You won! And guess what that means, dear?"

"I'm...I'm a..."

"You're Mommy's little floret now." She tapped your nose as she cooed, causing you to giggle a bit. A wiggling little thought in your head popped up, though.

"You tricked me, Mommy!"

"Did I? Well, you knew we affini never play fair when it comes to cuties like you. Awfully brave of you to make a bet with me anyway, wasn't it? Almost like you wan~ted this, darling~" she purred at you, her eyes filled with light and warmth. You thought you couldn't possibly blush more, but it turns out you definitely could.

"I...noooooooooo!!! I didn't...I mean....maybe?"

"Silly little flower." She picked up her tablet, turning it back on and dismissing the timer, which had paused as soon as she had closed it. "Now, let's get you home. We have a contract to sign~"

#human domestication guide #hdg #microfiction #pyxfics

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roosterr · 1 year ago

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hi! i was wondering if i could request your thoughts/drabble on how the 141 would react if a mission went awful and you were left in the hospital with amnesia! like the reader wakes up and has no memory of her team🥲

if you aren’t taking requests atm or this doesn’t fit with your writing, i completely understand and you can ignore this! just wanted to say i binged your masterlist and absolutely love all your writings! keep up the amazing content <3

the 141 when you have amnesia

note: AAA TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! and ty for reading my stuff, it means a lot!! i had so much fun writing this it's unbelievable, this concept is just so JUICY,,, i really hope you like it!! <3

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, angst sadness and depression wow i did not mean for this to get so sad

ao3

[part two]

price

✹ he would undoubtedly blame himself for what happened to you. as your captain, it was his job to keep you safe and make sure you came home in one piece, and he'd failed you there.

✹ weeks and weeks go by as he waits endlessly for you to wake up, and with every day that ends with you still unconscious, he feels his resolve slipping just a little bit more.

✹ he holds himself together as well as he can, keeping his head high and projecting confidence that you'd be okay, if only to keep the team's spirit up. they still needed their captain, and he'd be damned if he failed them too.

✹ behind closed doors, however, he's a mess.

✹ john drinks, a lot, so much that it’s irresponsible, but the image of you, beaten and bloody and barely breathing haunts him every time he closes his eyes. he locks himself in his office, away from the others and ignores their concerned calls through the door.

✹ he visits you, only when it's late and there's no one else around to hear him whisper apologies to you with a lump in his throat. he confesses to you like a sinner, all the things he wishes he'd done differently, how he'd put himself in your place in a heartbeat if it meant you'd be okay.

✹ other than those nights, he does his best to stay away from the infirmary. it’s selfish, but he can’t bear to see you in such a fragile state.

✹ he’s in his office when you wake up.

✹ the nurse finds him on his second drink of the night, and no sooner than the news leaves her mouth he's pushing past her and rushing to the infirmary. he bursts through the door, startling you and the other nurse with you.

✹ "hey, sweetheart." he’s by your side in an instant, taking one of your hands in both of his as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. it feels like it's been an age since you've looked at him, the sight of your eyes alone almost has the dam behind his own breaking.

✹ you’re staring back at him with a somewhat lost expression, but john’s so relieved that you’re here, that you're back, it slips his notice.

✹ he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, like he's done hundreds of times before, but you stop him by placing your other hand on his chest. he pulls back with a concerned frown, finally noticing the unsure look you're wearing.

✹ the nurse briefly explains that some memory loss is common for the amount of head trauma you sustained. he should've expected something like this, in fact it's a miracle you made it out with just memory loss.

✹ "i'm sorry, can you tell me who you are?" you ask meekly, looking back at him with an apologetic look in your eye. you look guilty, like it's your fault this happened and not because of his own shortcomings.

✹ john's heart sinks at your words, but he's careful not to show it. amnesia can be temporary, he knows that, he just has to jog your memory.

✹ "i'm john," he smiles as warmly as he can through the panic in his chest, lifting his left hand to show you the wedding band on his finger, "your husband."

✹ your jaw falls open, your eyes wide as you look between the ring, his face, and the nurse behind him, who simply nods in confirmation of the captain's words.

✹ "you're…" you mutter, disbelief taking over your voice, "my husband?"

✹ you take his left hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face and examining the wedding band, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of your lips.

✹ "yes, love," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, grasping your left hand and showing you the matching band on your own finger, "we're married."

✹ "seriously?" you ask, comparing the rings on your fingers and looking back up to him with an almost comically surprised face. john nods again, his moustache tilted with an amused smile.

✹ "been together for nearly seven years."

✹ "how the hell did i convince you to marry me?" you mutter. at that, he lets out a real laugh, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

✹ "think i should be the one askin' that question."

gaz

✹ kyle takes it harder than anyone.

✹ he visited you once, at the first opportunity when you were stable enough to not require constant observation, but the sight ruins him. you looked so weak, nothing like how you should; your cheeks were sunken and your skin has a sickly sheen to it, and there was nothing he could do to help you.

✹ he couldn't stand it.

✹ he becomes so easily irritated, a hair trigger just waiting to snap. the others want to help him, but he won't let them get close enough to try. any mention of your name has him shutting down, leaving faster than they can finish their sentence.

✹ he barely sleeps, spending most nights curled up in your bed with his tears soaking your pillow. he surrounds himself with your clothes, things that smell like you, but your scent eventually fades and he just feels so alone without you.

✹ price finds him like that one night, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against your bed after throwing up from crying so hard. he hauls kyle up by the collar of his shirt, and forces him to meet his stern eyes through the tears.

✹ "pull yourself together, garrick! they need you to be strong for them, how d'you think they're gonna feel when they wake up and see you like this?"

✹ after that it's like the spell is broken, and he realises just how pathetic he's been acting. in the weeks you've been out, he's only visited you – his partner – once. you'd never forgive him if you knew.

✹ from that night onwards, he visits you at least once a day, filling multiple vases around your bed with beautiful flowers and making sure they never wilt.

✹ he got 'get well soon' cards for you too, having each of your teammates, and even kate, sign one to decorate your room.

✹ you wake up surrounded by life and colour, physical evidence of how much he loves you that puts a smile on your exhausted face, even if you don't know who left them.

✹ he's off base when you wake up, picking up a fresh bouquet for your room. his phone rings as he's leaving the florists, and as soon as he hears the nurse's voice he's sprinting back to his car, throwing the flowers onto the passenger seat and racing back to base.

✹ he bursts through the infirmary doors to see you standing with the help of the nurse, your legs wobbly but your face determined. he almost breaks down in the doorway.

✹ when you look up and meet his eyes, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. he rushes towards you, the new bouquet slipping from his fingers, and almost knocks you off your feet with the how hard he embraces you.

✹ you let out a small 'oomph' as he squeezes you, hesitantly wrapping your own arms around his torso. he sniffles into your shoulder, a few tears wetting your shirt despite his attempts to hold them back.

✹ "hey, uhm…" your voice reaches his ears, hoarse with disuse, "are you okay? what's your name?"

✹ "what?" kyle lifts his head, pulling back to mirror your confused gaze. "babe, what're you on about?"

✹ the nurse pulls him aside, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as she explains your amnesia to him.

✹ you really didn't remember him. his heart withers in his chest, the pain of losing you all over again spreading to the ends of every limb.

✹ "no, no no no–" he mumbles, stumbling back over to where you sit and cupping your worried face so gently, like you'd break if he was too rough. "please, love, you have to remember"

✹ you cover his hands with your own, a few tears falling from your eyes and rolling hot against kyle's palms. "i'm sorry, i want to remember, but…"

✹ "please, i love you…"

soap

✹ johnny spends every free moment at your bedside.

✹ he talks to you, tells you stories about everything that's happened since you've been asleep; the time ghost burnt dinner and set the fire alarms off, a robin that landed on the windowsill of your shared room, anything that comes to mind.

✹ sometimes he plays your favourite songs, sitting on the end of your bed softly humming along, praying that you'll hear it and come back to him.

✹ most often though, he draws you. he fills page after page of his sketchbook with sketches of you; the peaceful look on your face as you lay next to him, memories from before the accident, the two of you together – though he always puts infinitely more detail into you than himself.

✹ similarly to the captain, johnny stays positive about your condition, refusing to even entertain the idea of you not waking up. he's optimistic, and so good at hiding the anguish of being without you that even ghost is fooled by his facade.

✹ he won't let the others worry about him. you're the one in the hospital, you're the one that deserves their sympathies, he has to stay positive for everyone so they don't worry, so you have something familiar to come back to when you wake up–

✹ in reality, he's living in denial. he's on the verge of a steep mental nosedive, and if he looks past his delusions for even a second, he's afraid he'll spiral into a pit he won't be able to claw his way back out of.

✹ so he continues to live like that. he has one-sided conversations with you, going on for hours as if you're talking back to him. he brings you your favourite meal when the mess hall makes it, putting it on your bedside table so you can reach it and clearing it up the next day when he comes back.

✹ when you eventually, finally wake up, he's already there with you.

✹ it was late, and against the nurse's wishes he'd climbed into your hospital bed with you, an arm around your shoulder holding you close his chest while his other hand doodles away in his sketchbook.

✹ you let out a small sound and shift against him, and his heart skips a beat under your ear at the realiseation that you're back.

✹ any lingering tiredness immediately disappears from his mind, as he throws his sketchbook carelessly onto the side table and wastes no time in gathering you up into his arms and bringing you into a crushing hug.

✹ a groggy, surprised noise leaves you, the sound of your voice lighting up johnny's face with a smile so wide it aches. he loosens his hold just enough to hold the side of your head with one hand, gazing into your eyes like you were the only person in the world.

✹ "there y'are, bonnie, i missed you so much,"

✹ he presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes glassing and his heart full with how relieved he is that you're awake.

✹ "...what's going on?" you mutter, your eyes darting all over his face and to the room around you with a confused furrow in your brow.

✹ "lemme call the nurse," he replies with an easy, comforting smile, reaching somewhere behind him for the call button.

✹ while you wait for the nurse, he helps you sit up, adjusting the pillows behind your back so you can sit comfortably, all the while rambling about everything and nothing all at once.

✹ "you should've seen gaz's face, darl, it was priceless–"

✹ "i'm sorry, i… i dont remember you…"

✹ nothing has ever shut him up quite as effectively as those words.

✹ "wh… what? stop messin' about, bonnie," he chuckles, desperately searching your eyes for the humour that was missing. when you only shake your head in response, the smile fades from his face and quickly morphs into concern.

✹ "sergeant mactavish, how many times do i have to tell you to get off the bed!" the nurse exclaims as she enters the room. he doesn't get down though, just fixes her with the most intense look he's ever worn.

✹ "why don't they remember me?"

✹ the nurse explains that an injury like yours was bound to cause some lasting damage, but amnesia was more often than not temporary.

✹ "i'm sorry, i wish i could remember you…" you mutter, dropping your gaze to your lap as he turns back to you.

✹ johnny exhales deeply, finding a great sense of comfort that you'll most likely get your memory back. he gently tilts your chin up again so he can stare deep into your eyes.

✹ "don't apologise, that just means i get to woo you all over again, bonnie."

ghost

✹ simon would be destroyed.

✹ while you're knocked out its like he forgets how to be human. he eats, sleeps, and breathes on autopilot – like a robot with a function, no feeling, just keeping himself alive until you wake up.

✹ it worries the others, price especially, but the walls around his heart are expertly crafted, and without you by his side he sees no purpose in lowering them.

✹ when you do wake up, the first thing you see is him, sitting at your bedside with his hand enclosed around yours. his eyes are closed, but he's still very much awake, in fact he finds himself unable to rest anywhere but in the chair by your side.

✹ the way you try to pull your hand from his brings him back to the present and alerts him to your consciousness. his eyes snap open in less than a second, already glassy with the pure relief he feels now you're back.

✹ but you're looking at him differently. where there would once be soft affection, now he can only see confusion, and worst of all, panic.

✹ and there's fear in how your shoulders bunch up, but simon tries his best to ignore that thought.

✹ "hey, you're alright, darlin'," he coos, as gentle as he can manage, pushing the rising dread to the back of his mind.

✹ he presses the button to call the nurse, letting go of your trembling hand bringing it up to your shoulder. your worried gaze flicks to his arm and back to his face, which makes him pause in his tracks.

✹ "who… who are you?"

✹ simon's waited so long to hear your voice again, but hearing those four words from you shatters his heart into pieces.

✹ no.

✹ you didn't forget him. there was no way.

✹ "it's…" he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "it's me, love, it's simon."

✹ you're still looking at him with that same anxious expression, and he curses himself when he realises he's still wearing his balaclava. he practically rips it from his head, dropping it to the floor without a care for where it fell.

✹ your eyes study his bare face, tracing over every crease and scar, the mess of hair on top of his head, and finally landing on his desperate eyes.

✹ "i'm sorry, i…" you look guilty, the subtle shake of your head hurting simon like a knife to the chest. "...do i know you?"

✹ the silence that follows your words is unbearable.

✹ you really did forget him.

✹ all the time you'd spent together, the memories you shared, the love you had; it was all gone, just like that.

✹ suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him, he couldn't get enough air and his skin was crawling with the need to escape.

✹ at that moment, the nurse comes through the doors, startling simon into standing from the chair and stumbling backwards. he never takes his eyes off of your guilt-ridden face. you didn't know him, not anymore, and that meant he was all alone again, with no one to care for him and call home.

✹ the emptiness in his chest was enough to make him want to rip the hair from his scalp.

✹ the nurse says something, stealing your attention from him with words he's too overwhelmed to listen to. he takes the opportunity to back away, disappearing through the doors with a hand covering his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

✹ it was a miracle to two of you got together in the first place – simon didn't know if he could get you to love him again.

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suguann · 8 months ago

Text

tags. fem!reader, the overused 'i know we're supposed to be fwb but i fell in love with you anyway' trope, confessions, gojo mentally spiraling during sex over how much he's in love with you because that's a very him thing to do [18+ only]

Gojo can’t tear his eyes off you as you move above him—riding his cock like this would be the last time you’d ever feel it inside you. That thought twists his insides, his fingers digging into your hips as if you might float away before he ever really had a chance to voice the words he’s been too scared to say.

But he couldn’t really stop you if you wanted to leave—that’s how the groundwork of uncomplicated arrangements like these work, at least in the beginning. He likes to think that a lot has changed since that night in your living room between two drunk, lonely people with nothing to lose aside from your torn underwear in his haste to get them down your soft legs and an old condom tucked away in his wallet.

The feeling sneaks up on him without his knowing, a throbbing in his chest that festers and grows over time until he can’t ignore it anymore or contain it in the proverbial cup of his hands no matter how hard he tries.

It doesn’t dampen how much he wants to mold the shape of his cock inside your tight little cunt, to ruin you for anyone else who thought they even had a chance, to have his name be the first thing you think of when you cum. He wants to make every part of you his, and he only hopes you want the same thing, too.

He groans at the thought, gripping you tight to slam his hips up into you. “Tell me who’s fucking you so good. Tell me who’s the only one that gets to make you cum.”

“You, Toru!” you sob, holding onto his biceps to keep yourself from falling against his chest. It has his balls drawing up tight, and he sucks in a breath to stop this from being over too soon.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” he grunts. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. I’m the only one who gets to feel this sweet princess cunt.” He leans up to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning when he feels you clench down around him.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” you choke out.

“Yeah?” His fingers circle over your clit as he shoves his cock deeper inside of you to take you there faster, nipping at the swell of your breast. “Fuck, give it to me, baby. Lemme feel it.”

His name is soft and sweet on your tongue as you cum, squeezing around him until his eyes roll back from how good it feels. It has him following after you, grinding his cock as far as it can go while he pulses and fills you to the brim. There’s so much that he feels it leak out of your little hole and drip down his balls to pool in an uncomfortable wet puddle forming beneath him.

He rolls away from the mess when you both catch your breath, his softening cock still tucked away between your wet thighs. You stroke his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp, and he buries his face into your chest, words weighing heavy in his chest.

Maybe he should cut the bullshit already, say what he wants to say, and get let down easy while he still has a chance to recover from rejection—

“Sleep with me?” he asks, voice muffled and a shade of red high on his cheeks.

You giggle, lightly tugging on his hair. “I probably need at least—”

“No,” he cuts you off nervously, heat rising to his ears. “No sex. Just to sleep…here. With me?”

When you don’t say anything right away, he wonders if there’s any way he can take back his words and whether you’d believe him if he told you it was all a joke. But then you tug the blanket over both of you, tucking the corners in so the air from the ceiling fan doesn’t reach your cooling skin, and continue running your fingers through his hair.

There’s a warmth in his chest, which he thinks might be what love feels like.

After a moment, you say, “If you steal the blankets, I’m kicking you off the bed.”

Gojo snorts, smiling against your breast. “But it’s my bed.”

You hum. “Yes, and I’ll do it anyway.”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m still going to fuck you later.”

“Go to sleep, Satoru.” He can’t see it but knows you’re smiling, too.

Masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fic #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #.things i write

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mintmatcha · 8 days ago

Note

In the future when they meet again, does sero ever find a way to make amends? Does he explain what he was going through?

He enters the room with your name on his lips.

You still push up your glasses the same way you always did - your palms on the bottom of the frames- and Sero kicks himself for not seeing it earlier. You've changed, of course. Ten years have passed, but your eyes are the same. The downward curve of your lips and the round of your nose: it's all unmistakably you. When you push away from your desk, it's with a confidence you never had back then, and it almost makes him smile.

"Who told you it was me?" you ask. "Eijiro?"

"No," he says. "I remembered all on my own."

It's only a half lie. Bakugo had called you Cram School and the memories had flooded back. The late night anime sessions, the whispered confessions-

The way he ghosted out of your life without warning.

"What do you want, Sero?" you sigh. "How did you even find me?"

Sero had called for a couple favors to track you down. Luckily, you worked with Uraraka's organization now, as a therapist. All those nights at cram school really did work out; you're a doctor, apparently.

"I just-" He breathes in to center himself, hands jammed in his pockets. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. For just--"

"Leaving me?"

"Yeah." The takes that blow in stride, despite the sting. "For disappearing on you."

"Okay." You lean back in your chair, legs crossed. "I don't forgive you."

"Good. Right. Yeah." That hurts worse. "You shouldn't."

You sit there, hands folded, in silence, watching from over your glasses in silence. He wonders when you got so serious, how you lost that sparkle in your eye. Then, he wonders if he even has the right to know.

"I was a fucked up kid, I was going through a lot." Sero steps forward. "My dad was really -"

You interject. "Sorry, I don't offer therapy for anyone over the age of eighteen. Try Dr. Yun down the hall."

Fuck. God, you're witty. You always manage to steal the wind from his sails with a single cut.

"I'm not trying to-" He huffs, trying to remember to advice his actual therapist gave him. "I just want things to be right between us."

"To make yourself feel better?"

"No, because it's the right thing to do when you hurt someone."

This time, you're the one left silent. Your expression goes softer, wider, like you're genuinely surprised.

"I don't need you to forgive me. I don't think you should forgive me," Sero says. "I just want you to be okay."

He takes a half step in, then a full. Then you don't kick him out, he goes directly to your desk.

"Here. I got this for you. Back in high school." He places a little box in front of you, its label faded and partially ripped from time. "I messed up before I had the chance to give it to you."

It takes you a moment to process what's in front of you. It's a little pink figure, maybe a little less than pristine, but still standing there, arms splayed. The sure look on your face starts to drift, falling down, down-

"She's your favorite, right?" Sero urges.

Your expression doesn't get better. No, you look seasick, your legs suddenly untucked and your arms gripping your stomach.

"She's-" he falters. "You like Flora, I thought, was I-?"

"Get out of my office." Your voice is softer now too, closer to what he remembers.

"I thought you'd like it."

"Get out."

He backs up a step, hoping you'll change your mind. When you don't, he retreats down the hall, unsure of whether he did something right or not.

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stylesispunk · 2 months ago

Text

Silent Strain | part v

Outbreak!Joel Miller x f! reader

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Joel's return came along with some demons following behind and secrets he doesn't want to confess.

w.c: 14k.

Warnings: angst, Joel acts a little dumb during this chapter, fluff, allusions to smut at the end, not proofreading.

a/n: the original chapter was deleted from my laptop and I had to rewrite it again. I didn't remember everything so this one was a bit more dramatic than the original, cuz your writer here was dumped yesterday (💀) besides I wanted to focus on their reunion. The next one is going to be better I promise and Joel is going to behave better🤞✨ thank you so much for your support. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“I’m sorry,” Joel whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m so damn sorry. I never wanted to leave you—never wanted to hurt you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your gaze meeting his. His eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with an overwhelming sorrow and love that made your heart clench. He lifted a hand to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping away your tears.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… I thought I doing what was right. But I know I hurt you”

You nodded, unable to form words, your emotions too raw, too tangled. But you could see it now, the regret, the pain he carried just as heavily as you had. And while the hurt of him leaving still lingered, there was something else too, something stronger: the undeniable bond between you, the love that had survived despite everything.

Joel leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm and shaky. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you let yourself believe it. You closed your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

As you pulled away from Joel's embrace, your eyes fell on Ellie. She stood awkwardly by the door, her arms crossed over her chest, her face shadowed with guilt. She glanced up at you timidly, as if unsure of her place in all of this. Her usually tough exterior seemed to crumble in that moment, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath.

You could see it in her eyes—the weight she carried, the guilt, the fear that maybe she had been part of the reason Joel left, that she had put him in danger that she had separated Joel from you, that somehow this was her fault. But you couldn’t let her believe that. Ellie had been through enough already, and the last thing you wanted was for her to feel like she didn’t belong like she wasn’t part of your family.

Without a second thought, you walked over to her, your steps steady and sure. She blinked, clearly taken off guard, her eyes widening slightly as you reached her. Before she could say anything, you pulled her into a tight embrace, wrapping your arms around her in the same way you had with Joel. You felt her stiffen at first, uncertain, but then she relaxed into the hug, her small frame leaning into yours.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with sincerity.

Ellie didn’t say anything at first, but you felt her arms slowly lift to return the embrace, her fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt like she was holding on for dear life. Her breath hitched slightly, and you could tell she was trying not to cry, to hold onto her usual tough façade. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. She needed to know she was safe, that she was loved.

When you finally pulled back, you kept your hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye. “It’s not your fault,” you said firmly, wanting her to understand that.

She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking to the floor. “I—I thought you would hate me,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I… messed everything up.”

“You didn’t,” you reassured her, your voice gentle but steady. “You brought him. You both made it back, and that’s what matters. We’re together now.”

Ellie nodded slowly, though the guilt still lingered in her eyes. But there was a flicker of relief too, a small spark of hope that she wasn’t alone in this, that she didn’t have to carry the burden by herself anymore.

Ellie’s eyes shifted down to your abdomen, where your once swollen belly was now gone, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Where’s the baby?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with curiosity, almost as if she wasn’t sure how to ask the question.

You smiled gently, the warmth of the moment settling in as you glanced toward the bedroom’s door. “She’s sleeping now,” you answered softly, a deep sense of pride and tenderness filling your chest.

“She?” Joel’s voice cut through the quiet, and you turned to see him staring at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. “A baby girl?”

You nodded, your eyes softening as you looked at him. “Yeah… a baby girl. Rosie.”

For a moment, Joel didn’t move, his eyes flicking between you and the door to the bedroom where his daughter was sleeping, as though he was trying to wrap his mind around the reality of it. His baby girl. The emotions that flickered across his face—joy, relief, maybe even a little fear—were unmistakable.

“She’s beautiful, Joel,” you said quietly, watching as his eyes grew glassy.

Joel swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check, but it was clear that the weight of the moment was sinking in. He blinked a few times, as if still trying to comprehend what you had said. “Rosie…” he whispered, the name sounding foreign but perfect on his lips. He nodded slowly, as if saying it aloud made it more real. “Can I see her?” he asked.

Joel’s gaze softened, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The man who had once been hardened by loss and pain now stood before you, vulnerable and overwhelmed by the love he had found again. “I… I need to see her,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, your heart swelling at his tenderness. “Go ahead. She’s waiting for you.”

Joel hesitated for a second, as if afraid to move, but then slowly made his way toward the bedroom door. Ellie stayed back, watching the exchange with a faint smile, but there was still something distant in her gaze. You gave her a reassuring look, hoping to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you all since they had returned.

When Joel disappeared into the room, you turned your attention back to Ellie. “You did the right thing, Ellie. You brought him back.”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know… it doesn’t feel like it.”

You stepped closer to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You did. We’re here now, because of you. And Rosie’s going to need you too.”

Ellie’s eyes softened, the guilt still lingering, but she nodded slowly. “I’ll try,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

You gave Ellie a soft smile, sensing the weight of everything she had gone through. “Come on,” you said, your voice gentle. “Let’s go see Rosie together.”

Ellie looked at you hesitantly, her brow furrowing as if she wasn’t sure whether she should join, but you could see the curiosity in her eyes. You reached out your hand, offering her the choice. “She’s part of you too, Ellie. You’ve been with us through everything.”

After a moment’s pause, Ellie slowly placed her hand in yours, the corners of her lips lifting into a tentative smile. You led her toward the bedroom where Joel was standing over Rosie’s crib, his hand softly resting on her tiny back as she slept. He glanced up when the two of you entered, his eyes warm and full of emotion, but they softened even more when he saw Ellie.

“She’s real tiny,” Ellie muttered under her breath, taking cautious steps toward the crib. She peered down at Rosie, her eyes widening as if she couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

“She is,” Joel whispered, his voice filled with awe. He glanced at you, his expression still laced with wonder.

Ellie stood beside Joel, looking down at Rosie with a mixture of fascination and uncertainty. “I’ve never seen a baby this close before,” she admitted quietly, her hand twitching a little as if she wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if she should.

You gave her a reassuring nod. “You can touch her, Ellie. She’s stronger than she looks.”

Ellie hesitated for a moment before gently placing her hand on Rosie’s small, delicate arm. Rosie shifted in her sleep but didn’t wake, her tiny fingers curling slightly at the warmth of Ellie’s touch. Ellie’s eyes softened even more, and for a moment, she just stood there, her expression almost unreadable, but you knew there was a flicker of something new—a sense of connection.

“She’s… warm,” Ellie whispered, her voice barely audible. There was a tenderness in her gaze now, something you hadn’t seen in a long time, and it made your heart swell.

Joel wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close as you watched Ellie bond with Rosie. The three of you stood there, sharing a quiet moment that felt sacred, a moment where everything—despite the hardships, the losses, and the uncertainty—seemed to fall into place.

Joel’s gaze shifted from Rosie to you, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer. The softness in his eyes made your heart flutter—there was love there, deep and unwavering, but also gratitude. He looked at you as if he couldn’t believe everything that had come to pass, how the three of you were here, together, in this moment.

“You,” he whispered, his voice rough but tender, “you’ve given me everything.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you felt the emotion rising in your chest. You turned to face him fully, your hands resting gently on his chest as you met his gaze. “Joel…”

Before you could say anything more, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. “I don’t think I ever believed I’d have this again,” he admitted, his voice low, full of reverence. “A family.”

Your heart swelled, the weight of his words sinking in. The years of survival, of pain, and of loss had hardened Joel in so many ways, but here he was��vulnerable, open, and holding on to the life you had built together.

“We are a family,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You, me, Ellie, and Rosie. We’re a family, Joel.”

Joel’s lips twitched into a soft smile as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m never lettin’ this go. I swear.”

The warmth of his touch, the steady beat of his heart under your hands—it all made you feel safe, anchored in a world that had once felt like it was always slipping away. You tilted your head up, meeting his lips in a soft kiss, a promise shared between the two of you, wordless but understood.

Ellie, sensing the intimacy of the moment, quietly stepped back from Rosie’s crib and gave the two of you space. She glanced back at Rosie with a small smile before slipping out of the room, leaving you and Joel alone in the soft morning light.

Joel kissed you again, slower this time, his lips lingering against yours as if he needed to savor the feeling. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “For all of this.”

The afternoon passed by quietly, the atmosphere shifting slightly as the day wore on. Joel hadn’t explained much about the thin cut on his neck, and though it didn’t look too serious, it was enough to keep you glancing at him, worry bubbling beneath the surface. Every time you caught his eye, he brushed it off, offering a small smile as if to say it was nothing.

But Ellie had noticed it too, and her mood shifted. She grew more silent, retreating into herself in a way that made the room feel heavier. The unspoken tension lingered between the three of you, subtle but present.

Tommy stopped by for a moment, stepping through the door with a light knock. He exchanged a few words with Joel, his eyes flicking between the two of you as if sensing something wasn’t quite right. You tried to keep things normal, making small talk with Tommy about the day, but even he seemed to feel the undercurrent of unease.

When Tommy left, the silence settled in again, more noticeable this time. You looked between Joel and Ellie, feeling the weight of whatever was unspoken, and decided to break the tension the only way you knew how.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” you offered, your voice light as you stood from the couch. “How about some soup? We could all use something warm.”

But Ellie shook her head, her eyes downcast. “I’m not really hungry,” she muttered, her voice low, almost detached.

You glanced at Joel, who shot you a quick look of concern. He cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. “You should eat, kid. We’ve been on the road for a long time. Ain’t good to go too long without a meal.”

Ellie shrugged, not looking up. “I’m fine,” she said, but there was an edge to her tone, like something was bothering her. Something she wasn’t saying.

Joel frowned, but didn’t push. You could see the worry in his eyes, though—he didn’t like this silence from Ellie any more than you did. You gave her a soft look, stepping closer to where she sat.

“Ellie, if something’s on your mind, you can talk to me,” you said gently, trying to draw her out of the shell she was retreating into.

She glanced up at you, her expression tight, but didn’t respond. Instead, she shifted on the couch and crossed her arms, staring at the floor.

The room felt tense again, and you exchanged another glance with Joel. He reached out, rubbing the back of his neck, where the cut still seemed to be bothering him. You couldn’t help but feel that whatever had happened out there—on their journey back—was still casting a shadow over them both.

Sighing softly, you stepped back towards the kitchen. “I’ll make something small, just in case you change your mind,” you said, your voice quieter now.

As you moved to prepare the food, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the silence than just hunger or exhaustion. You knew Ellie had been through something on the road with Joel, something that neither of them had fully opened up about yet. And it hung in the air, like a storm cloud waiting to break.

You paused in the doorway of the kitchen, glancing back at Ellie. The heaviness in the air was hard to ignore, but you tried to push past it. “I’ll just whip up something light,” you began, hoping it might help ease the tension.

But before you could take another step, Ellie’s voice cut through the quiet. “No,” she said abruptly, her tone sharper than you expected. She pushed herself up from the couch, her movements quick and tense. “I’m just gonna… go to bed,” she muttered, avoiding eye contact as she made her way towards the bedroom.

You exchanged a quick look with Joel, his brow furrowed as he watched Ellie’s retreating form. Neither of you said anything, but the worry was evident in his eyes. Something was wrong.

Ellie paused at the door to the bedroom, her hand lingering on the handle as if she wanted to say more, but whatever words she had were swallowed by the silence. She opened the door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

You stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of her absence in the room, the quiet settling in again, even more oppressive now that she was gone. The silence between you and Joel felt loaded, like both of you knew there were things left unsaid, but neither of you knew where to start.

Joel let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck again, his fingers brushing the cut there. You moved closer to him, your eyes drawn to the mark on his skin. “You still haven’t told me what happened,” you said softly, your gaze meeting his.

He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before finally speaking. “It ain’t important,” he said gruffly, but the way he avoided your eyes told you otherwise.

You gently reached for his hand, your fingers brushing his. “Joel… please.”

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping a little as he looked at you. There was a flicker of pain in his eyes, a heaviness he couldn’t quite shake. “We ran into some trouble on the way back,” he admitted, his voice low. “Got separated for a bit, and… things got rough.”

You frowned, your heart tightening with worry. “Separated? How bad was it?”

Joel hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly. “Bad enough,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced towards the bedroom door, where Ellie had disappeared. “She blames herself for a lot of it… thinks she didn’t do enough.”

You sighed, your heart aching for Ellie. “She’s just a kid, Joel. She carries too much already.”

He nodded, the guilt in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. But try tellin’ her that.” He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion clear in his posture.

You reached up, brushing a thumb over the cut on his neck. “And this?”

Joel shrugged slightly, as if trying to play it off. “It’s nothin’. Just a scrape.”

You gave him a pointed look, knowing there was more to it than he was letting on, but you also knew better than to push him too hard. Not right now. “You should rest too,” you said quietly, your hand still resting on his arm.

Joel looked at you for a long moment, his gaze softening. “Yeah,” he agreed, though his eyes kept flicking back to the closed bedroom door, the weight of everything still hanging between you both.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him gently, offering him the comfort he wouldn’t ask for but clearly needed. He held you close, his grip a little tighter than usual, as if grounding himself in the moment.

The room was quiet, save for the soft creak of the floorboards as you swayed gently back and forth, cradling Rosie in your arms. Her tiny breaths were slow and even, her little face peaceful as she slept against your chest. The warmth of her body, the softness of her skin—it all made the world outside seem far away for a moment.

You hadn’t noticed Joel standing in the doorway, his presence silent but heavy. He watched you, his expression unreadable, a strange mix of emotions flickering across his face. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place—that hadn’t been there before their return. A shadow that lingered, clinging to him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

As you continued to rock Rosie gently, you felt a subtle shift in the air, a tension that hadn’t been there before. It was as if whatever they had been through out there hadn’t just stayed outside the walls of your home—it had seeped in, affecting everything. You could feel it in Joel’s silence, in the way Ellie had shut down, in the way Joel’s hand kept rubbing the back of his neck as if the cut there was more than just a physical wound.

You gently lowered Rosie into her crib, your movements careful, as though you could shield her from the unease that had crept into your home. Her tiny body shifted for a moment before she settled back into sleep, completely unaware of the turmoil that seemed to swirl around her.

When you finally turned, you saw Joel standing there, his hand resting on the doorframe. His gaze was fixed on you, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching, his face a mask of quiet contemplation.

“Joel?” you asked softly, taking a step toward him.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, his eyes flicking away from you. “Didn’t mean to disturb you,” he muttered, his voice low.

“You weren’t,” you replied, your voice just as soft. “Is everything okay?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He stepped into the room a little further, his gaze landing on Rosie in the crib. His face softened for a moment, but that strange tension still lingered. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice quiet and unsure, something that didn’t sit right with you.

You walked up to him, close enough to place a gentle hand on his arm. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it, Joel. You don’t have to carry it all alone.”

He looked down at you, his jaw tightening slightly. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. “No…I just wanted to say goodnight to the both of you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, almost whispering “Aren’t you sleeping here?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to.” He said, and the way and the voice you wanted to hear almost seemed to break you.

Joel’s words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were speechless. The vulnerability in his voice, the way he spoke as though he believed he was no longer welcome here, made your heart ache.

You stepped closer, your hand still resting on his arm, this time with a firmer grip, as though you were afraid he might slip away. “What?” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. “Why would you think that?”

Joel’s eyes flicked down, avoiding yours, his jaw clenched tightly. “After… everything. Thought maybe you’d want some space,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, as though forcing out the words was difficult for him.

His insecurity broke something inside you. This man, who had carried so much for so long, was now standing in front of you, so unsure of where he stood, and it was almost unbearable.

“Joel,” you said softly, lifting your hand to his cheek, trying to get him to look at you. “I spent all this time missing you, how could you think that?”

Joel finally looked up at you, his eyes softening just enough for you to see the flicker of doubt that had settled deep inside him. “I know you missed me,” he said quietly, his voice still rough but tinged with the slightest trace of vulnerability. “But missin’ someone and wantin’ them back after what they’ve done… those are two different things.”

Your heart ached at his words. “Joel, don’t you understand?” you whispered, stepping closer to him, your hand still resting on his cheek. “I missed you. The real you. The man who keeps me safe, the one who’s always been there, no matter what.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze searching your face as if trying to find the truth in your words. “You don’t know what I’ve done,” he said softly, almost as if he were confessing. “Out there, with Ellie… I didn’t know if I could come back from it.”

His words hung heavy between you, and you could feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying—everything he believed he had to carry on his own. But you weren’t going to let him carry it alone anymore.

“I don’t care what happened out there,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “Whatever you did, whatever choices you had to make to keep Ellie safe, to come back to me… it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Joel’s jaw tightened again, but this time, it wasn’t out of anger or frustration—it was the struggle of holding back the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “How can you still say that? After all this?” he rasped, his voice thick.

“Because I love you, Joel,” you said, your voice breaking as you spoke the words you hadn’t said in so long. “And nothing will ever change that.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and something else—something deeper, more profound. Then, slowly, he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as though the weight of his guilt was beginning to ease, just a little.

Without saying a word, Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. You felt the tension in his body, the way he seemed to be holding on as if you were the only thing keeping him steady.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice barely audible.

“You deserve everything,” you murmured back, your heart full as you held onto him just as tightly. “Everything, Joel.”

The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s warmth, neither wanting to let go. Eventually, Joel loosened his grip, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were still soft, but the weight of all that he had carried was visible in the dark circles under them. You traced a finger along his jawline, feeling the roughness of his stubble, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the moment.

“Let’s get some rest,” you said quietly, your hand sliding down to take his. Joel nodded, and together you climbed into bed, the weight of everything still lingering, but with the promise that you weren’t alone anymore. As you settled under the blankets, Joel wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, his warmth grounding you.

You both fell asleep for the first time in months with a sense of peace.

Hours later, you stirred, feeling the coolness of the sheets beside you. Your hand instinctively reached out, searching for Joel, but the space next to you was empty. Groggily, you opened your eyes, glancing around the room. The soft moonlight streaming through the window cast shadows across the bed, and that familiar sense of panic began to rise in your chest.

You sat up, the dim room spinning for a moment before you steadied yourself. Rosie’s crib was empty, too. Your heart raced as your mind immediately went to the worst possible scenarios, a habit you'd developed in this unforgiving world.

“Joel?” you whispered into the quiet, your voice cracking.

Pushing back the blankets, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, your body tense with fear. You listened for any sound—a cry, a murmur—but the house was eerily silent. Barefoot, you padded towards the door, your pulse hammering in your ears. You stepped out into the hallway, your senses heightened, trying to catch any sign of movement.

Then, as you reached the end of the hallway, you saw them.

Joel was sitting in the old rocking chair near the window, cradling Rosie in his arms. The soft creak of the chair rocked in rhythm with his gentle humming, a melody so faint you could barely make it out. Rosie’s tiny face was nestled against Joel’s chest, her tiny fingers clutching at his shirt. Her eyes were closed, her small body relaxed in his strong arms.

The sight of them together made the panic that had gripped you slowly melt away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming tenderness.

Joel’s back was to you, but as if sensing your presence, he turned his head slightly, catching your gaze in the moonlight. His eyes softened when he saw you standing there, his lips parting as if to apologize.

“She woke up,” he whispered, his voice low and raspy in the stillness of the night. “Didn’t want to wake you, so I brought her out here.”

You stepped closer, your breath evening out now that you knew everything was okay. "You didn’t have to," you murmured softly, kneeling beside the chair so you were level with them. Your hand reached out to gently brush Rosie’s soft hair, the steady rise and fall of her breathing soothing your own nerves.

Joel shook his head, his gaze dropping back to Rosie. “I wanted to,” he admitted quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m obsessed with her. She is so beautiful”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all the fear, all the guilt he had carried for months seemed to dissolve in the quiet of this simple, intimate moment.

You leaned your head against Joel’s arm, taking in the warmth of him, the scent of Rosie’s baby skin. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore. It was about moments like this, holding on to the people you loved, no matter how broken the world outside was.

“She is” you replied, “You know, since she was born, I spent nights without finding myself able to sleep.” You low your gaze to Rosie, “I couldn’t. I was alone and I was scared something could ever happen to her. I needed to stay awake and make sure she was breathing”

Joel listened to you, but his heart broke a little inside, he had left you behind all this time when you needed him the most. Just when you have started your motherhood.

Joel’s chest tightened at your words, the weight of his absence settling heavily on his shoulders. He looked down at Rosie, the tiny bundle of innocence cradled in his arms, and the guilt surged through him once more. You had been alone during some of the most vulnerable moments of your life, forced to navigate the terrifying responsibility of motherhood in a world that had already taken so much from both of you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with regret. His gaze remained fixed on Rosie, his thumb gently stroking her soft cheek. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve been by your side. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that alone.”

You could hear the pain in his voice, the anguish of a man who felt he had failed the people he loved most. It wasn’t his fault. You knew that. The world had forced his hand—forced him into impossible choices, and you had never blamed him for leaving. But hearing him say those words still made your heart ache.

“It wasn’t your fault, Joel,” you said softly, your hand reaching for his. “I know why you had to go with Ellie. I know you didn’t have a choice.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his face hardening for a moment as if he were wrestling with the weight of everything he had done—everything he had seen. His eyes flicked back to yours, and you could see the vulnerability there, the raw emotion he rarely let anyone see.

“I still should’ve been here,” he repeated, his voice rough. “I should’ve found a way.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to ease the guilt that was eating away at him. “You’re here now,” you said quietly, your voice full of understanding. “That’s what matters.”

Joel nodded, but you could tell he was still struggling to accept that. His gaze fell back to Rosie, his expression softening as he watched her sleep so peacefully, oblivious to the storm of emotions swirling around her parents.

“She’s everything,” Joel murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.” He smiled and looked at you for a moment “Well, after you.”

A warmth spread through you at Joel’s words, his soft smile disarming in a way that always managed to pull you in, no matter the weight of the world outside. You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. In moments like this, it was easy to forget the pain, the loss, and everything you had both endured to get here.

“Well,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers gently brushed Rosie’s tiny hand, “you have good taste.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. It was rare to hear him laugh these days, and when it happened, it felt like a small victory against the darkness that so often consumed him. He looked at you again, his eyes full of affection, and for a brief moment, the guilt and weight he carried seemed to ease.

“You both deserve better,” he said quietly, the smile fading just a little, as the seriousness returned to his voice. “I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you have it.”

You shook your head slightly, your hand still resting on his arm. “Joel, you’ve already given us everything that matters. We’re here, together. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His eyes softened at your words, and he swallowed hard, as if trying to push down the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “I don’t know how you do it,” he whispered, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “How you still see good in me after everything I’ve done.”

You leaned in closer, your hand moving to cup his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. “Because I know who you are, Joel. I know your heart. Everything you’ve done.

He let out a long breath, his jaw tightening for a moment before relaxing under your touch. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours as if seeking reassurance.

“I am,” you said firmly, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “You’re a good man, Joel. Rosie and I are lucky to have you.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, the flicker of doubt in his eyes slowly giving way to something softer, something more certain. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips gentle but full of emotion, as though trying to convey everything he couldn’t say with words.

When he pulled back, there was a quiet resolve in his eyes. “I’ll never stop tryin’ to be better for you. For her.”

“You already are,” you whispered, your heart full as you rested your forehead against his.

In the quiet of the night, with Rosie’s steady breathing filling the space between you, it felt like—despite everything—the world had given you something precious. Something worth fighting for.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the small window of your bedroom, casting a warm glow over the room. The remnants of last night's conversation lingered in the air, but today felt different—lighter somehow. There was a sense of normalcy that hadn't been present for months.

You woke up to the sound of soft baby coos coming from Rosie’s crib. Blinking your eyes open, you smiled as you watched her tiny hands wave in the air, her chubby cheeks flushed with the early morning light. She was your world, and seeing her safe and content filled you with a quiet peace.

Joel stirred beside you, his arm still loosely wrapped around your waist. It was rare for him to sleep in this late, but after everything, it was no surprise he needed the rest. You gently slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him, and padded over to Rosie. Her wide eyes looked up at you as you picked her up, her little body warm and soft against yours.

“Good morning, baby girl,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She gurgled in response, her hands reaching for your face, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

You took your time feeding her, sitting by the window and watching the town of Jackson slowly come to life. The quiet streets were starting to bustle with activity as people moved about, tending to their duties within the community. It still amazed you sometimes—the sense of order and peace here, despite everything the world had become.

Jackson had become home, and though the scars of the past were still healing, there was a strange comfort in the routine of it all. Maria had been incredibly kind, offering you a place in the community and even helping you when Rosie was born. She had become a friend, and in many ways, a guiding force in these new chapters of your life.

As you dressed Rosie for the day, Joel finally stirred from the bed, sitting up with a groan. He rubbed his eyes, still clearly tired, but there was a soft smile on his face when he looked over at you and Rosie.

“Mornin',” he said, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, walking over with Rosie in your arms. Joel reached out, gently taking her from you, and held her close, pressing a kiss to her tiny head. You watched as his entire demeanor softened in her presence, the way it always did. He’d always been protective, but since he returned, there was something deeper, a sense of devotion that went beyond just survival.

“You sleep, okay?” you asked, sitting down beside him.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Better than I have in a while.”

You smiled at that, glad that he was finally starting to find some peace. “Good.”

Joel shifted his focus back to Rosie, his fingers tracing little patterns on her arm. “Ellie’s probably out there already,” he muttered, glancing towards the window. “Kid doesn’t know how to take it easy.”

You chuckled softly. “That’s Ellie for you.”

After a few more moments of quiet, Joel handed Rosie back to you and stood, stretching his arms with a grunt. “I’ll go find her, make sure she’s not causing too much trouble.”

You smiled at him, watching as he pulled on his boots and threw on his jacket. Before leaving, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll see you later,” he murmured.

“See you,” you replied, watching him disappear out the door.

Just as Joel reached for the door, ready to head out, a sharp knock echoed through the small house. His hand froze on the doorknob, and he exchanged a quick glance with you, his brows furrowed in slight confusion. It was early, and few people usually came by without warning.

Joel opened the door cautiously, his posture tense, ready for anything—old habits that hadn’t quite left him despite the relative safety of Jackson. Standing on the other side of the threshold was a man Joel hadn’t seen before—tall, with a calm but confident demeanor. He was holding a bag slung over his shoulder, the kind you’d expect a doctor to carry.

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice guarded, suspicion still lacing his tone even though the man seemed harmless enough.

The stranger smiled politely, though there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He glanced over Joel’s shoulder for a moment before responding. “We didn’t have the chance to meet before you left,” he said, his voice calm but measured. “I’m Paul. I’m the doctor here. Helped deliver Rosie while you were… gone.”

At the mention of Rosie, Joel’s expression shifted, though his guarded stance didn’t relax completely. The words carried weight, and though Paul’s tone was professional, Joel didn’t miss the subtle undertone that lingered in the air—one that said Paul had been there, playing a part in your life during his absence.

Before Joel could say anything, you appeared behind him, Rosie still nestled against your chest in the sling. Paul’s eyes flicked toward you, his expression softening for a moment, but the tension between you two was palpable. Your shoulders stiffened, your demeanor guarded and cool, the remnants of your last conversation with him still fresh in your mind.

Paul nodded slightly in your direction. “Morning,” he greeted, though his tone lacked the warmth it once held.

You gave a short nod in response, your voice clipped. “Morning.”

Joel’s eyes darted between the two of you, immediately picking up on the tension. His jaw clenched as he studied Paul, piecing together the unspoken dynamic that was hanging heavy in the air.

“So, you’re the one who delivered Rosie,” Joel said, his voice tight, though he managed to keep his tone neutral. He didn’t know the details, but something about Paul’s presence seemed to rub him the wrong way.

Paul nodded, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment before shifting back to Joel. “Yes. I was just doing my job—helping out where I could.”

Joel’s expression hardened at the subtle implication in Paul’s words, but he didn’t rise to it. He simply crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes locking onto Paul’s with a quiet intensity. “Well, we’re grateful,” he said, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the edge to his tone.

Paul, sensing the unspoken challenge in Joel’s words, shifted his weight slightly. He was used to navigating the delicate lines of life in Jackson, and he had expected this moment ever since Joel had returned. Still, it was clear that whatever he had with you—whatever connection might have developed during Joel’s absence—wasn’t something either of you had wanted to acknowledge out loud.

“I just wanted to stop by and check on Rosie,” Paul said, his voice more professional now, though the tension in the air was still thick. “Make sure everything’s going well.”

“She’s fine,” you answered, your voice a little too sharp. “Healthy and strong.”

Paul gave a tight-lipped smile, glancing at the baby for a brief second before looking back at you. “I’m glad to hear it.”

There was a brief silence, the air between the three of you charged with unspoken words. Joel, standing protectively in the doorway, hadn’t moved an inch, his presence a wall between you and Paul. He may not have known everything that transpired during his absence, but it was clear he didn’t like the familiarity in the way Paul looked at you.

Finally, Paul cleared his throat, sensing he wasn’t welcome to linger any longer. “Well, if you need anything—medically, I mean—don’t hesitate to let me know,” he said, his tone polite but distant now.

Joel gave a slow nod, stepping forward just enough to send the message loud and clear. “We won’t,” he said, his voice low and firm.

Paul hesitated for a brief second before nodding in return. “Alright then,” he said, his eyes flicking to you one last time before turning and walking away, his figure retreating down the path that led back into town.

The door clicked shut as Joel closed it behind him, his broad shoulders tense. He turned back to you, his eyes searching your face for an explanation, though he didn’t say anything at first. The silence hung between you for a moment, thick with unspoken questions.

You sighed, shifting Rosie in the sling as you glanced at Joel. “We used to get along” you said quietly, though you knew that wasn’t nearly the whole story. “He’s just been… around.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press further, at least not now. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly still working through the emotions that Paul’s presence had stirred in him. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. “Seems like it.”

But Joel didn’t push the subject. Instead, he looked at you—really looked at you—and softened. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now, his protective instincts kicking in.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I’m fine, Joel,” you reassured him. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Joel’s expression softened at your words, and without another word, he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest, Rosie nestled between you. Whatever tension Paul had stirred, it was fading in the warmth of Joel’s embrace.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “So do I.”

Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away, his eyes searching yours as if making sure you were really okay. “I’ll go find Ellie,” he said softly. “We’ll catch up later.”

You nodded, appreciating the space he was giving you to process everything. “Okay. See you later.”

He gave you one last look, his eyes full of unspoken promises, and then he left the house, heading toward town. With Rosie still nestled against your chest, you decided it was time to get moving too. There was work to be done, and you needed to meet Maria.

As you stepped outside into the cool morning air, the town of Jackson bustled quietly around you. It was early, but people were already up, tending to chores, patrolling the perimeter, and preparing for the day. The sense of community here was something that still amazed you. After all the chaos of the world outside, this felt almost like a slice of peace.

You made your way toward the main square, where you knew Maria and Tommy were likely to be. As you walked, you spotted Maria near the stables, talking with a couple of people from the patrol team. Tommy was beside her, nodding along, his expression serious. It looked like they were discussing something important.

You approached them quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Maria glanced up first, her eyes softening when she saw you approaching with Rosie. “Hey,” she called out with a warm smile. “How are my two favorite girls?”

You smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We’re good,” you replied, adjusting Rosie in the sling. “Joel just left to find Ellie.”

Maria’s smile faltered for a brief second as she exchanged a glance with Tommy, who cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“Actually, I was just about to head over and talk to Joel,” Tommy said, his tone thoughtful. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly weighing something in his mind.

“About what?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Tommy hesitated, looking at Maria as if seeking confirmation. She gave him a small nod, and he turned back to you. “We’ve been talking about bringing him more into the fold here,” Tommy said, his voice cautious but sincere. “My brother’s a survivor, a leader, he’s got experience we could use. We were going to see if he’d be interested in helping out with the patrols.”

You blinked, processing what Tommy was saying. You hadn’t had much time to think about what Joel’s place in the community would be now that he was back. He’d barely had time to settle in, but you knew him—knew that staying idle wasn’t something he could do for long. He needed purpose, especially after everything that had happened with Ellie.

You blinked, trying to absorb Tommy’s words. Joel had only just returned, and the idea of him immediately taking on more responsibilities—especially something as dangerous as patrols—made your chest tighten with worry. But deep down, you knew Tommy was right. Joel was never the type to sit on the sidelines. He needed a purpose, something to focus on, especially after all he’d been through with Ellie.

Still, it didn’t stop the flicker of unease that crept up your spine. After months apart, the thought of him being out there again, facing potential danger, was difficult to process.

“Patrols?” you asked, your voice cautious. “Isn’t that a bit… soon?”

Tommy looked down for a second, nodding as though he understood your concern. “Yeah, it is soon,” he admitted. “But Joel’s always been a natural leader. He knows how to handle himself, and frankly, we need people like him. Things have been good here, but we can’t get complacent.”

Maria, standing beside Tommy, placed a comforting hand on his arm before turning her gaze to you. “We wouldn’t throw him into anything too heavy right away,” she reassured. “He could start small—short patrols, nothing far from Jackson. But Tommy’s right. Joel’s experience could really help. Plus…” She trailed off, her eyes softening. “It might be good for him. To feel like he’s contributing again.”

You swallowed hard, glancing down at Rosie in your arms. She was still sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the adult worries surrounding her. You wanted nothing more than to protect this little bubble of safety you’d found—Joel’s return, Rosie’s birth, the stability of Jackson. But you also knew Joel, knew he wasn’t the type of man to sit back and let others take risks for him. He’d need to be out there, to feel useful again.

“I understand,” you said quietly, glancing back at Maria and Tommy. “It’s just… after everything, I worry.”

Tommy’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “I get it. Believe me, I do. He’s my brother. I don’t want him out there if he’s not ready either. But I also know Joel. He’s got that look in his eyes again, like he’s ready to do something. We’ll ease him into it. I promise.”

Maria nodded in agreement. “We’ll keep him close at first. Small tasks. He’s got a family now, and we know that changes things. We’re not going to put him in unnecessary danger.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding. You trusted Maria and Tommy, but it was still hard to think about Joel going back out there, even in a limited capacity.

“I’ll talk to him,” you finally said, your voice steady but laced with emotion. “See how he feels about it.”

Tommy smiled, relieved that you were open to the idea. “Thanks. That’s all we ask. Just see how he’s doing. We won’t rush him into anything.”

“Yeah, and we’ll make sure he’s not doing too much too fast,” Maria added. “We want him here with you and Rosie.”

Her words helped ease the knot of anxiety that had formed in your chest. You knew they meant well, and they were right—Joel would need to find his place in the community sooner or later. He wasn’t the type to stay idle, and if this was a way for him to regain some sense of normalcy, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Okay,” you said, offering them both a small smile. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

Maria reached out and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you. We’re all in this together. And whatever happens, you’ve got our support.”

Tommy nodded, giving you a grateful smile before glancing off toward the direction Joel had gone. “I’ll head out soon and find him, have a quick chat.”

Maria gave you a warm smile, her eyes brightening a little as she mentioned the event. “Oh, and remember—we’ve got that little spring party tonight.” She glanced at Rosie and then back at you, a playful glint in her eyes. “It’s just a small gathering, but it might be a nice chance to get out for a bit. You and Joel could use some time to unwind, you know?”

You felt a small smile tug at your lips, though part of you felt unsure. A party, even a small one, seemed like such a foreign idea after everything that had happened. Still, it might be good for both of you—especially Joel—to spend some time around the community, easing back into this new life.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down at Rosie, who was still peacefully asleep. “We’ll see how Rosie does today. I don’t want to push her too much.”

Maria nodded, completely understanding. “Of course. No pressure. But if you can make it, even for a little while, it might be good for you two. There’ll be food, music—something light to take our minds off things for a bit.” She smiled gently, knowing how much everyone could use a distraction in these times.

You nodded, appreciating her thoughtfulness. “I’ll talk to Joel about it,” you said. “Maybe we’ll stop by for a little while.”

Maria gave you a quick nod. “That’s all we ask. It’s more about getting everyone together and sharing some moments, you know?” She gave a quick wave, then turned and headed back toward the stables.

As you returned to the house, the thought of the spring party lingered in your mind. It had been so long since you’d even thought about anything remotely festive, and a part of you longed for that sense of normalcy, even if just for a few hours. Maybe it was exactly what you and Joel needed—a chance to reconnect, to feel like a part of this world again, rather than just surviving day to day.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over Jackson, you and Joel bundled Rosie in her little blanket and made your way to the spring party. The sounds of laughter and music began to fill the air as you approached, and the sight of string lights flickering overhead created a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

Ellie was already there, bouncing on her toes with excitement as she spotted you. “You made it!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy. She rushed over, throwing her arms around you. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come!”

“Yeah, well, we thought we’d stop by for a bit,” you replied, a smile breaking across your face. “How’s the party so far?”

“It’s awesome! They have all kinds of food, and they set up games over there!” Ellie pointed enthusiastically to a group of kids gathered around a makeshift ring toss. “Come on! You have to try it!”

Joel shifted beside you, looking a little uncertain as he surveyed the crowd. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he glanced around as if trying to find a safe spot. It was understandable; he’d been out of this world for so long, and while Jackson had been a haven for you, it was still new territory for him.

You squeezed his hand gently, your fingers intertwining with his as you leaned in closer. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly, catching his eye. “Just take it one step at a time. We’re in this together.”

He looked down at you, his expression softening as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, okay,” he replied, his voice steadying as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze in return. The warmth of his touch grounded you, reminding you that despite the chaos of the world outside, you had each other.

As you moved further into the party, the inviting scents of grilled meat and baked goods filled the air, and the lively chatter began to wash over you like a warm wave. People were mingling, laughter echoed around, and for a moment, it felt like life could be normal again.

Ellie dashed off to join Dina, and you and Joel found a spot near the food table. A couple of the neighbors waved at you, smiles on their faces, and you waved back, feeling the warmth of community wash over you.

“See? Not so bad,” you said, nudging Joel gently.

He nodded slowly, but you could still see the wariness in his eyes. “Just… takes some getting used to,” he admitted, his gaze flickering over the crowd.

“Want something to eat?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light. “They have a ton of options, and I think I saw some pie over there.”

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You and your sweet tooth,” he teased, and that made you smile wider. “You sure you want me to go get it?”

“Why not?” you replied playfully, nudging him again. “It’ll give you a chance to stretch your legs. And I could use some pie—just to fuel me for the games later!”

He let out a small laugh and finally relented, giving you a nod. “Alright, I’ll grab something. Just stay close, okay?”

“Always,” you said, watching him head toward the food table. As he walked away, you felt a swell of affection for him. Despite the uncertainty, he was making the effort, and that meant the world to you.

You moved over to a nearby group of friends who were chatting and laughing, trying to embrace the festive atmosphere. You exchanged pleasantries, laughter bubbling up as stories were shared, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget about the outside world.

A few minutes later, Joel returned with a plate of food in one hand and a slice of pie in the other. He had a small smile on his face, and you felt a rush of happiness at the sight. He’d found a little comfort in this gathering, and that made everything worth it.

“Got your pie,” he said, handing it to you with a flourish, and you beamed up at him.

“Thank you, sir!” you replied playfully, taking the plate from him. You took a bite, letting the sweetness fill your mouth, and couldn’t help but moan a little at the deliciousness.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head at your exaggerated response. “You really do love that stuff,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

You leaned closer, your heart full as you whispered, “You love me for it.”

He smiled, that genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Yeah, I reckon I do.”

As you savored the slice of pie, Maria and Tommy approached, their faces glowing with the warmth of the gathering.

“Hey there!” Maria called out, waving as she made her way over. “Looks like you two are having a good time!”

“Just indulging in some pie,” you replied, grinning. “Can’t resist a good dessert.”

Tommy chuckled, glancing over at Joel. “Looks like you’re fitting in pretty well, brother,” he said, giving Joel a playful nudge.

Joel shrugged, but the small smile on his face gave him away. “Tryin’,” he replied, looking around the festive scene.

Maria’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Ellie, who was bouncing on her toes. “Are you ready to play some games, Ellie? I think they set up a scavenger hunt over there.”

Ellie’s eyes widened with excitement. “Yes! Come on, let’s go!” Without waiting for a response, she dashed off toward the games, clearly eager to participate.

“Hey, wait up!” you called after her, laughing as you turned to Joel. “I guess we’re off to the races!”

“Go on,” Joel said, his voice a mix of encouragement and amusement. “I’ll keep an eye on Rosie. You go have fun.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, glancing down at Rosie, who was nestled peacefully in the blanket.

“Yeah, I got this,” he assured you, his tone firm yet gentle. “You enjoy yourself. I’ll be right here.”

You felt a flutter of gratitude and affection in your chest. “Okay, I’ll be back in a bit,” you promised, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Rosie’s head before you turned to join Ellie, Maria, and Tommy.

As you made your way toward the games, you could hear laughter and cheers ringing out, the atmosphere buzzing with energy. The kids had gathered around a makeshift obstacle course set up with old tires, rope swings, and a small climbing wall, and Ellie was at the front, explaining the rules with fervor.

“Okay, everyone! You have to complete the course and grab a prize at the end!” she shouted, her enthusiasm infectious.

You joined the group, cheering on the kids as they took turns navigating the course. The competitive spirit ignited, and soon you found yourself swept up in the fun, encouraging everyone to give it their best shot.

As you laughed and cheered with the kids, completely absorbed in the games, Joel’s mood began to shift. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Paul standing with a group of friends, but what caught his attention was the way Paul kept glancing in your direction, a subtle smile on his face.

Joel's jaw tightened, and the familiar surge of protective instinct kicked in. His mind raced, and those nagging voices from his past began to creep in, planting seeds of doubt and jealousy. He couldn't shake the feeling, even though he knew better. He turned toward Tommy, his voice low and edged with frustration.

“That guy, Paul,” Joel muttered, not bothering to mask the irritation in his tone. “What’s the deal with him? Why is he looking at my woman like that? Something happen between them or what?”

Tommy’s eyes widened in surprise at Joel’s bluntness, and Maria, who was standing beside them, gave Joel a look of disbelief. “Joel,” Maria said slowly, her voice firm but calm, “you’re overthinking things.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, clearly taken aback by Joel’s sudden shift in attitude. “What the hell, man?” he asked, keeping his voice down so others wouldn’t hear. “Do you think she was enjoying your absence when you were gone?”

Joel clenched his fists at his sides, his gaze flicking back toward Paul, who was still casually chatting with his friends, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing in Joel’s mind. “Then why’s he smilin’ at her like that?” Joel pressed, his voice laced with a mix of jealousy and insecurity he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Joel,” Tommy said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice, “you need to chill. Paul is just friendly. He’s trying to make everyone feel welcome here.”

Maria stepped in, trying to defuse the situation. “Listen, Joel, you’re back now. That’s what matters. You have to trust her.

Joel's jaw tightened, “I trust her, not him”. the protective instinct surging within him. He couldn’t help but think about the time he’d spent away from you, the emptiness that had consumed him during those months. The thought of someone else trying to fill that void made his stomach churn. “I just don’t like how he’s looking at her,” Joel muttered, the frustration evident in his voice.

“You were just implying she had something with him when you were gone” Tommy recalled, clearly mad at his brother.

You approached the table, your heart sinking as you overheard the tension in their conversation. The mention of Paul sent a jolt of unease through you, and you felt your stomach twist. Joel's protectiveness, while understandable, was beginning to feel suffocating.

“Are you really implying that I had something with him?” you interjected, your voice steady but laced with disbelief. The three of them turned to you, surprise evident on their faces. Joel’s expression shifted from irritation to concern, his eyes widening at the realization of how his words had come across.

“No, I—” Joel started, but you raised a hand to stop him, your gaze firmly fixed on him.

“I heard it” You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

You reached out and gently took Rosie from Joel's arms, cradling her against you as if she were a shield from the growing tension. The moment your daughter nestled against you, her small weight grounding you, you felt a surge of emotion.

“Look, Joel,” you said, your voice a mix of frustration and hurt, “I know you’re protective. I get that. But you’re making this harder than it needs to be.” You glanced down at Rosie, brushing your thumb against her tiny cheek. “I can’t have you doubting me or our family because of some guy who-“

“Who what?” he pleaded, urging to you to say something.

“I’m going home” you said.

The words hung in the air between you, sharp and sudden. You could see the flicker of surprise in Joel's eyes, his mouth opening slightly as if he were about to protest, to argue, but you raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice steady but trembling with the weight of your emotions. “Just… don’t.”

His jaw clenched as he watched you, the realization of what you meant beginning to sink in. “You’re seriously gonna walk out on me over this?” he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.

“I’m not walking out on you, Joel,” you replied, your heart racing. “I’m walking away from this moment. I need some air. I need to think.”

“Think about what? About me? About us?” His voice was low, laced with urgency, but there was a desperation in his eyes that made your heart ache. “You can’t just leave like this.”

“I can, and I will,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears that threatened to spill over. “I don’t want to fight, especially not in front of Rosie. It’s not fair to her or to us.”

He took a step closer, his expression shifting from disbelief to concern. “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly, his tone pleading now.

I hear what Tommy said, and if you thought that low of me...My baby needs to rest, goodbye" you say to maria and tommy and glance at joel for the last time before leaving.

With a heavy heart, you turned away, clutching Rosie closer to your chest as you made your way toward the exit. Each step felt like a weight pressing down on you, but you couldn’t stay in the atmosphere filled with unspoken words and tension.

As you walked past Maria and Tommy, you managed a tight smile, trying to keep it together for the sake of your daughter. “Take care of him,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel their worried gazes on your back as you continued onward.

“Wait!” Joel called out, but you didn’t turn around. You could hear the urgency in his voice, the underlying desperation, but you needed this space to breathe, to process everything that had just happened.

The cool air hit your face as you stepped outside, the sounds of laughter and festivities fading into the background. You walked a short distance away, finding a quiet spot where you could gather your thoughts without the weight of Joel’s piercing gaze on you.

Once you were alone, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears finally spill over as you sank down onto a nearby bench. Rosie stirred in your arms, and you gently rocked her, humming softly to soothe her. She was your anchor in this chaotic world, a reminder of the love that had once felt so solid between you and Joel.

“Why does it have to be so hard?” you murmured to Rosie, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. “I just want us to be happy.”

"You're just made to be a lover" tommy spoke to Joel.

The moment Tommy’s words reached Joel’s ears, they hung in the air, echoing with a weight that only added to his frustration. “What do you mean by that?” Joel snapped, turning to his brother, his eyes narrowing in irritation.

Tommy raised his hands in a placating gesture, his expression a mix of sympathy and understanding. “I mean, look at you. You care so much about her. You always have. But sometimes, it seems like you’re letting your fears get in the way of that love.”

Joel’s jaw clenched as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly wrestling with the truth in Tommy’s words. “You think I don’t love her?” he shot back, though the defensiveness in his voice felt more like a shield against his own vulnerability.

Tommy took a step closer, lowering his voice to a calmer tone. “No, I’m saying you love her too much to let your insecurities ruin it. She’s been through a lot. She spent the last time of the pregnancy alone; she gave birth alone and you came here and implied that of her?”

“I didn’t.” Joel defended himself.

“You did, Joel,” Tommy said, frustration creeping into his voice. “You made it sound like she might’ve been unfaithful while you were gone. That’s not fair to her, especially after everything she’s been through.”

Joel’s face fell, the weight of Tommy’s words hitting him hard. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice low and shaky. “I just… I can’t help but feel like I missed so much. I’m scared of losing her to someone else. I’ve already lost so much.”

“I get that,” Tommy replied, his tone softening. “But the way you said it? That’s not the way to show her you care. She needs you to be her rock, not a source of doubt.”

Joel clenched his fists, battling the feelings of guilt and fear that churned inside him. “I’m trying, man. It’s just hard. I spent so long thinking about her, and now I see this guy looking at her, and I can’t help but feel…”

“Jealous?” Tommy interjected. “Protective? Whatever it is, you’ve got to channel that into something positive. You don’t want to drive her away now that you’re reunited.”

“Go and talk to her before I broke your nose” maria interfered.

Joel turned to Maria, surprise flickering in his eyes. He could see the concern etched on her face, and it reminded him of just how much he had to lose if he didn’t get this right.

“Maria, I—” he started, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“No more excuses, Joel,” she said firmly. “You need to go to her now. Don’t let your fears ruin what you’ve fought so hard to get back. Go!”

With her encouraging shove, Joel felt a surge of urgency wash over him. He glanced at Tommy, who nodded in silent support, and then turned to make his way through the gathering crowd, his heart pounding in his chest.

He arrived at home and scanned the living room for you, his eyes darting between the furniture and spotted you, sitting on the sofa with Rosie in your arms. The sight of you made his heart ache, how beautiful you looked, but how pained your expression seemed as you cradled their daughter.

Taking a deep breath, he approached, and as he got closer, he could see the small frown on your face. It felt like a kick to the gut. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up, with a guarded expression. “Joel,” you replied, your tone cool but not entirely dismissive.

“I, uh… I wanted to talk,” he said, his hands instinctively moving to his hips as he tried to figure out how to say what was in his heart. “About what I said earlier.”

You glanced down at Rosie, who had just started to stir, and then back up at him, your expression a mixture of hurt and uncertainty. “What’s there to say?” you asked, your voice steady but laced with emotion.

He took a deep breath, stepping closer but maintaining a respectful distance. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I let my jealousy get the best of me.” He glanced down, his brow furrowing. “I shouldn’t have implied that you were unfaithful.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, but the hurt still lingered. “You know how hard it was for me, right? I felt so alone while you were gone. I just wanted to believe everything would be okay when you returned.”

“I get that,” Joel replied, his gaze earnest as he stepped closer. “But it doesn’t excuse my behavior. You were strong while I was away.”

Your breath caught as you prepared to open up, knowing the conversation was far from over. “Joel, while you were gone… things were hard, really hard,” you began, glancing down at Rosie in your arms. The memories of those lonely nights came rushing back, and it took everything in you to keep your voice steady. “Paul… he tried to twist things, make me believe I couldn’t do this on my own. That being a mother, without you, was too much for me.”

Joel’s face tightened, his fists balling at his sides as he absorbed your words. “What are you saying?” His voice was strained, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

“He never said anything outright, but he was always there, trying to plant seeds of doubt,” you continued, looking down at Rosie as you spoke. “He made it seem like you weren’t coming back, that you couldn’t. He’d say things like, ‘You’re strong, but no one can do this alone,’ or that maybe you’d forgotten about us out there.”

Joel’s expression darkened, the anger simmering beneath the surface, though you could tell he was fighting to keep himself in check. “He said that?”

You nodded. “It was subtle, but it was enough to make me question myself. I think part of me confused the help he was giving with something more. Like maybe, for a second, I thought he was being a friend.” You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep going. “But that wasn’t real. I was vulnerable, and he knew it. I was just trying to survive without you, to raise Rosie, to keep going. But I never wanted him, Joel.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped; the tension still present but mixed now with sorrow. He ran a hand over his face, clearly trying to process everything. “So, he tried to make you believe I wasn’t coming back,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I hate that he did that. But I hate even more that you had to go through that alone.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of those lonely months lift just a little, now that the truth was out in the open. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to make it worse or seem like I was giving up on you. But it’s why I reacted the way I did tonight. When you questioned me like that… it brought back all those fears.”

You stood up, your heart still heavy but feeling lighter than it had in days. As you carefully laid Rosie down in her crib, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully, you felt a moment of calm settle over you. The room was quiet, but you could feel Joel’s gaze on you, filled with regret and turmoil.

You turned back to him, hoping that this moment of truth between you had brought you closer. But as you met his eyes, you could see the storm of emotions still brewing within him. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tense lines of his body.

Before you could say anything, Joel abruptly turned and walked toward the door.

“Joel?” you called softly, your voice uncertain.

But he didn’t stop. He reached for the doorknob and stepped outside without a word. You hurried after him, calling his name a little louder this time. “Joel, wait!”

By the time you reached the door, he was already halfway down the path, heading back toward the party. You stood at the threshold, the cool night air brushing against your skin, watching as he disappeared into the distance.

Joel marched back toward the party, his footsteps heavy with frustration and unresolved tension. The festive atmosphere was still buzzing with laughter and music, a stark contrast to the storm swirling in his mind. He pushed through the crowd, his eyes scanning for Paul. There was an urgency in his stride, a need to confront the gnawing feeling that had been eating away at him.

When he finally spotted Paul, standing near a group of people by the makeshift bar, Joel’s jaw clenched. The doctor was casually sipping from a glass, laughing at something someone had said, unaware of the brewing confrontation.

Joel approached him, his body tense, his eyes locked onto Paul. As he drew near, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, his focus narrowing entirely on this one man. Paul looked up, his smile faltering slightly when he noticed Joel’s intense expression.

“Hey, Joel,” Paul greeted him, his tone friendly but cautious. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

Joel didn’t waste any time. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and steady, but there was a dangerous edge to it. The kind that made everyone around them take a step back, sensing the tension.

Paul raised an eyebrow, clearly confused but trying to keep things light. “About what?”

Joel took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “About what you said to her. About the things you’ve been puttin’ in her head.”

Paul blinked, his confusion deepening. “What are you talking about? I’ve only ever tried to help—”

“Help?” Joel cut him off, his voice growing sharper. “You think telling her she couldn’t do it on her own, that she needed someone else—needed you—is helpin’?”

Paul’s expression shifted, the easygoing smile he usually wore fading into something more serious. “Joel, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to offer support. She was struggling, and I—”

“I don’t need you explainin’ what she needed,” Joel interrupted again, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for her. She’s stronger than you give her credit for you don’t know what she’s capable of.”

Paul held up his hands in a placating gesture, clearly trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I was just trying to be there for her. You weren’t around, and she—”

“And that’s what I’m here for now,” Joel growled, stepping even closer until he was right in Paul’s face. “I don’t care what you thought you were doin’. Stay away from her from my girl.”

“She is your girl, but you abandoned when she was pregnant?” Paul chuckled.

“I didn’t.” Joel replied.

“Oh, come on man, I even know your daughter better than you do”

Joel’s fists clenched tighter, his entire body going rigid at Paul’s words. The implication that Paul knew his own daughter better than he did cut deeper than he’d expected. His breath came out in harsh, shallow bursts as he stepped even closer to Paul, their faces inches apart.

“You don’t know anything about me or my family,” Joel growled, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t act like you were doin’ me a favor. You think you stepped up? You think you know her? You don’t know what we’ve been through.”

Paul didn’t back down, though his face remained calm. “I was there when you weren’t, Joel. She needed someone, and I was the one who made sure she didn’t go through it alone. I’m not trying to make this harder for you, but you have to accept that things changed while you were gone. She changed. She had to.”

Joel’s chest tightened, the guilt he had been fighting against all night rising to the surface. He knew Paul wasn’t entirely wrong—he had been gone, and she had faced some of the hardest moments of her life without him. But the thought of someone else filling that space, being there when he couldn’t, made his blood boil.

“You don’t get to play that card,” Joel bit out, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “You think just because you were there for a few months, that makes you more important to her than I am? I’ve known her longer than you ever will. And Rosie? She’s my daughter.”

Paul’s calm demeanor shifted slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he crossed his arms. “You know, Joel,” he said, his tone infuriatingly smug, “maybe she deserves someone who was actually there for her. Someone who can protect her and Rosie. A real man.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears. Those words—a real man—echoed in his mind like a trigger, striking at every fear and insecurity he had buried deep down. His hands shook with the effort it took not to lash out right then and there.

“Watch your mouth,” Joel growled, his voice dangerously low, his fists twitching at his sides. He could feel the rage simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. “You don’t get to talk about what she deserves.”

Paul didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed to grow more confident, feeding off Joel’s rising anger. “But I am talking about it. Because I care about her, Joel. I care about Rosie. Maybe more than you do. You think she needs someone like you, someone who’s always running off, disappearing? Maybe she needs stability. Someone who’s here. A real family.”

Joel’s vision tunneled, the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He took a threatening step forward, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with venom. “I swear to God, Paul. You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about. I was gone because I had to be. To keep her safe. To keep them safe. You’re not part of that. You never will be.”

Paul took a deep breath, stepping closer as if testing Joel’s limits. “Maybe that’s what she’s thinking too. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything to stop me. Maybe she’s realized what a real man looks like.”

Joel snapped.

In one swift movement, he grabbed Paul by the collar, pulling him close. The crowd around them gasped, the festive atmosphere suddenly charged with tension. Joel’s face was inches from Paul’s, his voice a low, menacing growl. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. Ever.”

For a brief moment, it felt like the world held its breath. Paul’s smirk faltered, and for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.

Before Joel could take things further, Tommy’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Joel! Stop!”

Tommy rushed forward, putting a hand on Joel’s arm and pulling him back, but not without effort. “This ain’t the way, man. Not here. Not like this.”

Joel released his grip on Paul, pushing him back roughly. His chest heaved with the effort to contain his rage; his fists still clenched. He glared at Paul for a long moment, every muscle in his body tense.

Paul straightened his shirt, trying to regain some of his composure, but the smugness was gone, replaced by something else—caution.

“Stay away from my family,” Joel warned, his voice ice-cold. “Or next time, we won’t be talkin��.”

With that, he turned and stormed off, leaving the party behind him, his mind a whirlwind of anger, guilt, and frustration. He had to get away—away from Paul, away from the eyes of the crowd, and away from the fear that maybe, just maybe, Paul had hit a nerve that Joel wasn’t ready to confront.

Tommy caught up to Joel, grabbing him by the arm and steering him toward the house. Joel’s anger was still palpable, his body tense as they walked, the night air doing little to cool his heated emotions.

When they finally reached the door, Tommy let out a sigh, glancing at Joel, who looked like he was ready to explode again at any moment. “Look, I know you’re pissed. But you can’t keep letting this stuff get to you,” Tommy said, his voice firm but compassionate. “Paul ain’t worth it. And neither is risking your family over some nonsense he’s spewing.”

Joel didn’t respond, his jaw tight as he reached for the doorknob. But before he could open it, Tommy stopped him, his tone more serious now. “You need to fix this, Joel. Not just with her, but with yourself. You keep pushing, and you’re gonna lose her. Don’t let that happen.”

Joel glanced at his brother, his expression conflicted, but he nodded slowly, the weight of Tommy’s words sinking in. He pushed open the door, stepping inside.

As they entered, you were sitting in the living room, cradling Rosie as you fed her. The sight of Joel and Tommy walking in together, the tension still hanging in the air, made your eyes widen. You weren’t sure what had happened, but the look on Joel’s face told you that it hadn’t been good.

Tommy shot you an apologetic glance, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know you and my brother had a fight,” he said, his voice low and cautious, “but please, control him. He’s about ready to knock someone’s head off.”

Your heart sank as you looked at Joel, seeing the storm of emotions swirling behind his eyes. You sighed softly, shifting Rosie in your arms before standing up. “What happened?” you asked quietly, already dreading the answer.

Joel stood there, looking at you, the regret evident in his posture. “Nothin’ good,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I had a word with Paul. It got heated.”

Tommy let out a heavy sigh. “That’s one way of puttin’ it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Look, I’ll leave you two to talk. But seriously, you both need to figure this out. I’ll be around if you need me.” With that, he gave you a reassuring nod and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Now, it was just you, Joel, and the unspoken tension filling the room. Rosie cooed softly in your arms, oblivious to the weight of the moment.

“Joel,” you began softly, your voice careful. “What did he say to you?”

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “He said things… things that got under my skin. Made me feel like I’ve been failing you, like he’s been fillin’ in for me. And I just… I lost it.”

You bit your lip, the weight of his words sinking in as you studied his face. Despite the frustration and anger still simmering in him, there was a deep vulnerability beneath it all. Without saying a word, you reached out, taking his hand gently. Joel glanced down at your fingers intertwined with his, and you tugged softly, guiding him toward the sofa.

“Come on,” you whispered, leading him to sit down. Joel hesitated for a second but followed your lead, sinking into the cushions. You could feel his tension, the lingering heat from his encounter with Paul still coursing through him.

Once he was seated, you moved closer, surprising him as you sat down on his lap, your legs on either side of him. You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, your other hand brushing softly through his hair as you settled in. His arms instinctively came up to hold you, though his grip was tentative, as if he were afraid of losing control again.

You leaned in close, your forehead resting gently against his as you spoke softly, “Joel, I need you to hear me. I know you’re angry, and I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to carry that all by yourself. You’re back and I’m still here. Rosie’s here. Ellie’s here. We’re not going anywhere.”

He looked up at you, his brow furrowed, eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I’m tryin’, but every time I think about what you went through while I wasn’t here…” He trailed off, his voice breaking slightly as the guilt washed over him.

You cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look directly at you. “You didn’t fail me, Joel. I made it through because I had to—for Rosie, for us. And I’m still here because I want to be with you. But you have to stop letting those fears control you. Paul doesn’t matter. You do. This family does.”

He sighed, his hands tightening slightly around your waist, his body starting to relax just a little under your touch. “I hate feelin’ like I’m not enough. That someone else could step in and—”

“Nobody’s stepping in, Joel,” you interrupted firmly, your voice soft but insistent. “Nodoby could replace you.”

He leaned his head back against the sofa, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath, as if your words were the first bit of air he’d gotten in hours. You stroked his cheek, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, trying to soothe the storm within him.

“You have to let this go,” you whispered, leaning in closer, your lips just inches from his. “We’re here. We’re together. And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

Joel opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours, a mixture of relief and lingering vulnerability flashing through them. He reached up, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft and reverent. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

“You won’t have to find out,” you replied softly, leaning down to press your lips gently against his. The kiss was tender, full of the love and reassurance that words alone couldn’t convey.

As you pulled back slightly, your fingers traced the side of his face, your voice barely above a whisper. “Joel, he will never have the way you have me.” You said, kissing his mouth, hands hiking up his shirt. His hand moved up your back, pulling you closer as if he needed the reassurance that you were right there with him.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment. You could feel the tension in him slowly dissolving, replaced by something warmer, more certain. His fingers brushed through your hair, his other hand resting gently on your waist, holding you steady as the kiss grew more intense.

“I want you” you whispered against his mouth, then down his jawline, neck collarbone as his hands squeezed your waist as an answer.

“Please, have me” he replied, his voice hoarsed in a whimper.

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