#xf!reader fluff

[stardustrebels]

This Love Will Carry- A Marcus Pike x f!reader One Shot

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader New Year’s Eve/ Hogmanay One Shot Rating: T/ PG-13. WC: 1k

Tags: Fluffy fluff, Epic NYE kisses, No use of Y/N, No physical descriptions of reader. 

A/N: I had the urge to write something cute for New Year's Eve. I didn’t quite get round to my planned Marcus Pike- in- Edinburgh story I wanted to write this year, and following the news that the Hogmanay Street Party has been cancelled this year due to the weather, I wanted it to live on in spirit through the rose-tinted romanticisation it deserves. I hope you enjoy this hastily written fluffy fic set at Hogmanay! The title is from my favourite Dougie MacLean song, if you fancied a lovely song to accompany your reading! Happy New Year to you when it comes- Lang may yer lum reek! 

The air was crisp, tinged with the unmistakable scent of burnt out sparklers as the clock ticked ever-closer to midnight. The city of Edinburgh had outdone itself for Hogmanay. Thousands of revellers filled the streets, their laughter and cheers blending with the distant strains of music echoing from Princes Street Gardens. Above them, the imposing outline of Edinburgh Castle stood proud, bathed in a soft golden glow. 

Marcus Pike adjusted the scarf around his neck, a nervous habit as much as a shield against the biting cold. You stood beside him, soaking in all the excitement from the other people around you who’d climbed to the top of Salisbury Crags to get a better view of the fireworks, your breath misting in the air as you gazed across the city. 

“I always forget how beautiful it is up here,” you said, looking up at him. He didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes lingered on your profile, illuminated by the glow of torchlight around you from people who had been much more prepared than you two- you’d decided to climb up here impulsively an hour before the bells, encouraged by Marcus on a whim after you’d shared stories about watching the fireworks from there as a child. 

Your cheeks were flushed, whether from the climb in the cold or the whisky you’d shared earlier as you rushed up the hill, he wasn’t sure. 

Marcus managed a small smile, but any words he was about to say caught in his throat at the sight of you. Instead of speaking, he took a moment to let his gaze wander across the scene: the city sprawled below, its lights twinkling like scattered stars. The distant hum of celebration rose to meet the rocky outcrop of the hill. It was breathtaking, yes, but none of it compared to the way you looked right now- he was certain the moment would lose all of its magic if you weren’t in it. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice low and soft, “It’s beautiful.” 

Below, the crowd began to cheer as the countdown to the New Year began, their voices rising in unison, the crowd around you joining in as the sound reached the top of the hill. 

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Slightly out of sync in the most endearing way. You laughed at the sound; a carefree laugh, full of unbridled joy. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. You joined in with the count, glancing up at Marcus, the flickering torchlight bathing your face in a gold glow, your eyes reflecting the distant shimmer of the city lights. 

Seven. Six. Five. 

Marcus reached out silently and took your gloved hand in his; any sound would be lost in the swell of the crowd’s excitement. You looked back at him, brows lifting in question. 

Four. Three. 

His free hand cupped your cheek and you leaned in instinctively, breath catching as his thumb brushed against your skin. 

Two. 

Your eyes darted between his, taken aback by the adoration in his gaze. He closed the gap between you, trying to steady himself against the nervous flutter in his chest. You smiled, your breath hitching as you closed the gap. He was so close you could feel his breath, the warmth chasing away the cold against your cheek. 

One. 

Your lips met his as the fireworks burst in to life above you. The sky exploded in a riot of gold, red and green, the light cascading the hilltop in a bright wash of colour, illuminating the crowd that had gathered there. They faded in to the background as you leaned in to the kiss. All that mattered was the warmth of Marcus’ mouth on yours, soft and searching. 

His hand on your cheek steadied you, the scratchiness of his glove a sharp contrast to the tenderness of his touch. The other slid to your waist, tentative at first, then firm as you leaned against him. You could taste the lingering traces of whisky on his lips, the peat and honey mingling with the faint hint of peppermint from the gum he’d obviously been chewing moments before. 

Marcus exhaled against your mouth, although you couldn’t hear it over the sound erupting around you, it felt like a reverent sigh, like he couldn’t quite believe he was kissing you. You felt the tension in his arms ease, the weight of long-standing hesitant longing dissolving in to the kiss. He wasn’t rushing- he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like the moment could stretch forever if you let it. 

Your hands found their way to the lapels of his coat, clutching the fabric to anchor yourself. When you shifted slightly, deepening the kiss, you felt the faint hitch in his breath. A soft, unspoken plea for more. 

The fireworks above grew louder as the display reached its crescendo, their booming echoes providing the bass drum to the tenor beat of your heart thrumming in your ears. 

When you finally pulled apart, it was only because you needed air. Your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cold, both of you unsteady on your feet. Marcus’ eyes fluttered open, his dark brown eyes meeting yours as he pulled away to look at you properly. 

His gaze was soft, like you were the only other person in the world, the bustling crowd and fireworks forgotten. The torchlight around you flickered across his face, casting shadows over his strong jaw and highlighting the faint pink that dusted his cheeks. His lips were parted, flushed from the kiss. He looked at you like you were something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire city had fallen silent, just for you two.

“Happy New Year!” You exclaimed, joy bubbling over as you kissed his cheek, looking up at him with a smile that was so wide your cheeks were starting to hurt. 

Marcus laughed, his hand still resting against your cheek. He showered your face with kisses until you squealed for him to stop, laughing as out-of-time choruses of Auld Lang Syne began around you. 

“Happy New Year,” he yelled over the singing, pulling you close.

As the fireworks continued to light up the sky around the city, Marcus tightened his hold on you, watching as the pops of colour reflected in your eyes as you smiled up at him. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

The Man In Your Apartment

Pairing: Mark Meachum x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: First dates are stressful enough without Mark Meachum showing up to make you second guess your entire life.

Tropes: Friends With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Implied Slow Burn.

Word Count: 10.8K (Don't look at me like that)

Warnings: I'm gonna just label this 18+ to make sure. References to Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Implied Sex, Reader's hair is long and is described as "curvy", Cursing, Angst, Talks of Cancer, ANGST, Self-deprecating thoughts from the reader and Mark, Unhinged joke about starfish, Flirting, Mark might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I'm just starting to write for Mark, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Mark Meachum Masterlist

A/N: Yes, yes I did finally watch Countdown, and the unthinkable happened… I wrote another Jackles character fic.

"Ow, ow, ow. Hot! Hot!" You yelp, releasing the chunk of your (now) perfectly curled hair to stick your singed index finger into your mouth while staring at your reflection in your bathroom mirror.

This looks nothing like the video.

You think with a groan, eyes shifting to your phone that shows the supposedly effortless updo being displayed by the girl on screen.

I should've known better than to try something new one hour before I'm supposed to go out on a date! There's no way I can salvage this.

The reflection of you in the mirror looks at you raises an eyebrow as if asking you 'did you expect anything less?'

"Shut up." You mutter with a huff.

You’d thought that by now you'd be used to the first date jitters. The swarm of butterflies that erupted in your stomach in nervous anticipation, the small tingle of excitement at the thought that anything could happen, and the anxiety of trying to find the perfect first date outfit.

There were enough "first date outfits" strewn over the floor of your bedroom for you to go on a hundred dates, the same hundred outfits you'd modeled for your best friends Evie and Sam over video chat for two hours before you chose the current ensemble. It was the one that they'd said would 'give your date a heart attack' all the while whooping so loud it made their next door neighbors start banging on the wall.

The black ankle length dress clung to your body like a second skin, hugged your every curve, and swept low over your breasts to give a hint of cleavage. It was the emergency dress, the one thing in your closet that you'd never worn, but bought months ago hoping to wear it for someone else. The same someone else that you hadn't seen or heard from in nine months.

Not thinking about him right now.

There weren't exactly many places that you could wear something like this, especially not to the firm of York, Goldman, and Preston. Your power suit and heel staple was more sensible anyway, though did little to stop one of the senior partner's wandering eyes whenever you bent over to pick something up while twisting the golden wedding ring on his left hand.

Pig.

Products in bottles and containers of varying colors and shapes are scattered over the small single sink in your bathroom, foundation is smeared on the marble countertop, a thin dusting of eyeshadow flecked in the mirror, a broken eyeliner pencil sits forgotten on the floor an inch from the toe of your stilettoed boot, a single earing lies aimless, and the makeup brushes you'd used are shoved into the small makeup bag you put them in all the while lying to yourself and saying that you'd clean them the second you got home. The same thing you told yourself each time you took one out and ran your thumb over the stiff makeup caked bristles before applying your makeup each morning.

But despite the support from your two college roommates turned best friends after four years in the trenches, you were still nervous.

It was the first date you'd had with anyone in over nine months. The never ending pile of depositions and case evidence on your desk had kept you plenty occupied, and this was first time you'd allowed yourself to make time for something like this.

Devin was another junior partner at the firm, a nice guy that had asked you out several times in the past, but you'd politely declined. Now, after a nine month dry spell and no other prospects you were willing to give him a chance.

He's not terrible, just a little too much like vanilla yogurt, plain and often not enough.

But you were willing to give Devin a shot, maybe he wouldn't be as straight laced outside of the office as he was in it. Maybe he had a secret bad boy side that would surprise you and sweep you off your feet. 

The playlist that Evie made aptly titled "Get Back Out There and Get It" switches to an upbeat song that makes you swing your hips and hum under your breath, while you change the part in your hair, frowning again at your appearance before you flip the piece back over to the side.

I'm done. I can't look at myself anymore.

Pickle, your French Bulldog, trots into the bathroom happily, sniffling around the bottom of your dress and licks tentatively at your ankle.

"Hey buddy." You lean on the counter and scratch behind one of his pointed ears. "What are you up to huh?"

His leg thuds against the floor rhythmically, nudging his flattened face against your leg once before he turns to sniff along the rumpled pile of clothing in your closet and leaving you to the deranged spiral of your thoughts. They were hanging from the chandelier by now in a ritzy mansion with the Unsinkable Molly Brown.

Devin was taking you to a little Italian restaurant a few blocks from the high rise you worked at in downtown LA, and he was due to be here any minute, which meant that you probably had no time to fix your hair.

Maybe I can pretend that I got a stomach bug and reschedule. He seems like he would be plenty understanding and-

Your phone buzzes on the counter,  the group-chat titled "Feral Friends" flashing once on the screen to distract you from your reflection for a few moments.

Evie: You better not be staring at yourself in the mirror thinking about faking an illness

Sam: Or contemplating toaster bath to get out of this.

Evie: You look so hot in that dress. Devin is gonna want to have all your babies!!

Sam: He's a dude Evie.

Evie: THAT DOESN'T MATTER, SEAHORSE RULES BITCH!

Sam: As a marine biologist I can't condone your behavior… but as your friend I say that it can totally happen.

Evie: Thanks babe. Does that mean you're gonna finally let me come back to the lab?

Sam: Nope. I'm not going to let you molest another starfish.

Evie: I just wanted to see how mermaids get them to stick!

Sam: I know this is difficult for you, but mermaids aren't real.

Evie: I don't believe you! The government probably paid you to say that and now you're keeping them from me.

Sam: Why do you want them to be real?

Evie: And I bet you know the location of the necklace that old lady threw into the sea!

Sam: The lady in Titanic?

Evie: YES!

You stifle a snort.

Evie and Sam had been such a big part of your life for years now. Through thick and thin, the family that you never had, but always wanted. The three of you, three parts of a whole that fit together seamlessly even though you lived in LA and they both shared an apartment back in Florida on the other side of the US. You were planning a trip for the end of the month to see them, desperately needed it like the air you were breathing, couldn't wait to camp on their lumpy couch and catch up on Love Island while eating greasy pizza and waking up between Evie and Sam like nothing had changed. Like the three of you weren't still complaining about how small your shared apartment was and eating cup a noodle at every meal while dreaming about marrying rich to avoid getting a soul-sucking nine to five.

You: As scintillating as this conversation is, it's not helping.

Evie: That's why they pay you the big bucks smarty pants, because you use words like that.

Sam: Girl, come on, the guy's gonna fucking plotz right in his pants as soon as he sees you. I don’t know why we're even having this conversation.

Evie: Or why you're going out with him… The guy is about as interesting as a sack of flour. Never seen someone so white in my entire life, thought I was going to go blind when I stalked his insta and saw a picture of him in shorts.

Sam: EV!

Evie: What? We're all thinking it! This guy would be lucky to get a foot pic from you babe, let alone the whole package.

Sam: She's right, but at the same time please don't sell pictures of your feet. You got that one wonky toe…

You: I've told you multiple times that it's not wonky and we're getting off topic again.

Pickle walks back into the bathroom toting his prize, a red lace thong that you'd ruled out as 'impractical' for tonight, choosing rather a black one that matched the bra you were wearing. You still weren't sure where the date would end up, but you were being optimistic, dwelling in the possibility that Devin would surprise you.

"Drop it." You order.

Pickle freezes, eyes wide, his little gray body tensing.

"Pickle." You say sternly.

He bolts into your bedroom full speed, his little legs scrambling against the hardwood floors, nails scrapping against the wood as he goes.

Damn it.

"Get back here!" You shout as you run through your home and down the darkened hallway behind him in swift pursuit, but Pickle continues to run as fast as he can through your two bedroom apartment his little mouth chewing furiously because he knows his days are numbered.

Just as you cross from the hallway into your living room, a pair of hands come out of nowhere and catch Pickle, yanking him up into the air.

You screech to a halt, eyes widening as you focus on the stranger standing in your apartment.

The man comes into focus, broad shoulders encased in a black leather jacket, brown hair kissing the collar in a soft wave, his hardened muscular body molded like a statue in Greece, perfectly chiseled as if from stone. Pickle writhes fruitlessly in the man's arms, trying to escape from air-jail, but the man only laughs at him. The sound of his chuckle trailing goosebumps over your skin.

But even though the stranger's back is to you, but you don't need to see his face to know who it is.

Mark Meachum.

You'd met in the courtroom or rather outside the courtroom when you were running exactly five and a half minutes late and slammed into him after he'd given testimony. The trusty briefcase you'd had for years decided at that moment to give up the ghost, splitting open and scattering the notes and papers you'd worked so hard on all over the floor. And while others continued to walk by, Mark had stopped to help you, flirting all the while, and by the time he'd handed you the last paper you had a date for drinks and a reason to grin and bear it while a senior partner yelled at you for your tardiness. 

The relationship, if you could call it that, started then and there.

Late night phone calls, late night drinks, followed up by late night rendezvous, memories of beer, sweat, and the spicy scent of Mark's cologne that clung to your sheets long after they went cold. The haunting memory of his rough hands dragging over your soft skin, finding places that no one else seemed to, every inch of your body and his fitting together so well if the world was burning outside your bedroom neither of you would be none the wiser.

It was all going so well… until it wasn't.

Mark was content to keep things the way they were, but you weren't. You wanted more. A total cliché, you knew that, but when the two of you started you didn't have time for more than just a few hours, but you liked Mark and you wanted to try, thought that there was something worth exploring between the two of you.

He didn't.

He'd said that he didn't want things to change, that he wasn't looking for anything serious, and that led to the inevitable parting of the ways…

Except Mark didn't stay away for long, never did. He'd showed back up at your apartment in the weeks that followed and each time you let him in all the while trying your best not to take it personally that he didn't want more.

Sometimes you thought he did though.

When all was quiet and you couldn’t sleep because something was bothering you and he actually listened to you talk instead of the usual grunt you got from the handful of men you’d tried to date in the past. When you’d find him in the kitchen in the morning nursing a cup of hot coffee and pinching the bridge of his nose to drive away the headaches he had so often, and he allowed you to gently rub at his temples to soothe the ache, while he watched you with curious green eyes as if he couldn't believe you were real.

Those moments made you think that maybe Mark wanted more. More than just the heat of your body beside him, more than the sweat soaked sheets and gasps of his name into the night air, and more than just the pleasure you brought him when the two of you were alone and nothing else seemed to make sense but the rock of your body against his and the moans of your name into your mouth from his lips. But just like clockwork the next day would dawn and Mark would get up, get dressed, kiss you goodbye and saunter out of your life so easily it made your head spin.

Until 9 months ago, when you told him you couldn't do this again, that it was the last time and you needed him to stay away for good. You remember how you'd said it, wrapped in your sheets when he got out of bed and got dressed. Mark had winked, dark hair falling forward into his face, before he kissed on in the forehead the same patronizing way he always did. You’d hoped that he had actually gotten the message, that he was finally, finally listening to you when you told him that.

Apparently not.

"These for me?" Mark smirks, the bright red thong dangles between his long fingers. There's a familiar glint of mischief in his green eyes, the same glint that always seemed to get you in trouble whenever he was around, the one that ended with you breathless in bed with Mark's body nestled snuggly between your thighs like he belonged there. "You shouldn't have."

You snatch away the offending garment from his outstretched hand. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood." His eyes trace over your body, bringing a pleasurable tingle down the length of your spine.

Your body didn't seem to get the memo about being anti-Mark, but you weren't surprised. It had a tendency to disconnect from your mind whenever he was in your general vicinity and usually wanted things that were bad for you.

The Bluetooth must not be working because there's a flood of warmth to the apex of your thighs the longer that Mark stares at you with the same mischievous smirk he gave you the last time you saw him.

Your eyes flick to the open window in your living room where the floral curtains billow and flap in the night breeze.

Did he come in through the window? I'm three floors up!

"Did you break in?"

"No." Mark answers scratching Pickle behind the ears, who has now turned traitor just as your body had and is licking Mark's jaw where the prickle of his beard has begun to shadow.

Something that you too wished you could do.

Stop it! Stay strong. I will not relapse. If only there was a green-eyed, dark haired man anonymous group on the internet for addicts like me.

You clear your throat, eyes shifting to the open window and then back to him, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. Mark chuckles low under his breath, the gradual rumble going up through his chest that makes your throat tight.

Distant thunder before a storm hints.

And what a storm it would be if your let him back into your bed. A category five hurricane, a damn tornado so destructive that Tyler Owens was out there chasing after it.

"I've been telling you to fix that window forever. Do you have any idea how many home invasions there are in LA every year?"

"I'm on the third floor Mark!"

"See-" He holds up a finger. "That's exactly the kind of thinking that lets these freaky bastards free and clear to go through underwear drawers."

"Strong words from a man who was holding my thong ten seconds ago." You cross your arms over your chest.

"Blame Pickle. He obviously wanted me to have it."

The dog in question has his tongue lolling out of his mouth, smiling happily up at the man who ruined your life.

He didn't, not really.

It was your fault that you kept going back to him, your fault that each time he showed up on your doorstep, dark hair scrunched up around his face, glimmering eyes that raked over your body, and charming smile that you couldn't say no.

"What are you doing here?" The question is measured, each word slowly rolling out of your mouth with precision.

Truthfully, you knew what he was doing here, it was the same what that you had told yourself you were never going to go back to. It had taken you all nine months since you'd seen him to get over it, overworking yourself, going too hard at the gym on the treadmill because it was easier to fall asleep when you were so exhausted rather than sitting up all night and thinking about the man with the glowing green eyes. The endless marathon of rom-coms that made you feel like Elle Woods throwing a box of chocolates at the tv also didn't help either.

A part of you was angry that he was here now, that he had stayed away because he knew it really was the last time and now he had some warped alarm inside of his head that told him you were finally moving on and he had to come back.

Mark puts Pickle on the couch giving him another affectionate scratch before he focuses back on you.

"I thought I'd stop in and say hello. You look nice. Hot date?" Mark's eyes trace over your figure again taking in the black dress, the one you’d bought for him in mind because you thought that it would change something, but never had a chance to wear it.

“Yes, actually.”

Is it hot in here?

The fact of the matter was that despite your brain wanting nothing to do with him, there was another part of your body that was ready to rip all his clothes off and act like the last nine months hadn’t happened.

“Huh.” Mark scratches his chin as he takes one step towards you so close that you catch a whiff of the same cologne that was long gone from your sheets. Hints of sandalwood and sunshine that you’d let yourself breathe with his pillow crushed to your chest when he left for the last time, tears burning in your eyes. “Is that so?”

He towers over you, smirk quirking on the end of his mouth, humor flashing through his eyes the longer he stands there looking at you. Some of his dark hair has fallen forward over his forehead that your fingers itch to push away, remembering the way that the smooth skin of his temples felt beneath your fingertips whenever you soothed away the headaches he seemed to have so frequently.

It’s a few inches shorter than the last time you saw him, but he looks just as good if not better. The thick dusting of his beard over his strong jaw makes him look rugged in the best way and again makes the irrational part of your brain start rattling the bars of her cage.

“Y-yes.” You stammer.

Top of my class in litigation and yet every time he looks at me like that I can’t form a single sentence.

"I like what you did with your hair." Mark's smile widens, eyes softening as he raises his hand and pushes back the chunk of hair that singed your fingertips moments ago. "It's pretty."

Please for the love of mashed potatoes keep it together. Heart of a warrior!

You chide yourself, feeling your legs turn to jelly under his gaze that makes your right foot wobble in the stilettoed boot.

9 months ago when he'd left, Evie and Sam had shown up out of the blue and the three of you performed a "Markxorcism." You'd burned sage, lit candles, chanted ridiculous things, and then eaten so much junk food that Evie puked into Sam's purse.

Now you were realizing that it didn't work, because your subconscious obviously didn't get the memo.

There's a blush creeping up through your cheeks with the brush of Mark's fingertips against your skin. All it did was remind you of the moments the two of you had spent together in the past, with those same fingertips exploring parts of your body that no other man ever seemed to be able to reach.

Please don't think about that right now.

The song on the playlist shifts to something softer, a melody that you've forgotten the name of, but does little to push the memories of Mark and you in this very apartment. The soft light in your living room accentuates Mark's strong jaw, making the shadow of his beard a little bit darker while catching in his glimmering green eyes. The memory of the day he left washes over you in a fluid wave. When his hair was rumpled from where your hands had tangled through the strands the night before, when the glow of his freckled skin caught in the early morning sunlight that shone through your curtains, and when the familiar scrape of stubble rubbed against your forehead as he kissed you goodbye.

"You should go." You clear your throat again, voice sounding a little higher than it usually does.

"Why?" Mark's breath wafts over your face in a minty wave.

"Because it's gonna be hard to explain-"

"Explain what baby?"

"Why you're here."

Mark chuckles low under his breath, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. "And why do you think I'm here? Hmm?"

Something dark flashes in his eyes as his gaze drops down over your body once more, catching on your curves like flypaper. Goosebumps flicker across your skin, following the trail of his eyes on you and making warmth pool in the pit of your stomach.

Oh dear Lord why does he always have to look so good?

Your mouth is dry, the last shred of willpower you have pulled so tight that you know it'll snap at any second. You hated that he did this to you, that one look from those glowing green eyes turned off whatever rational part of your mind usually drove and sent you scuttling back into the stone age, like taking one look at the rugged man in front of you suddenly stimulated the primal animal instinct that lived in the dark recesses of modern man.

You can take the cavewoman out of the cave… but you can't take the cave out of the woman.

And damn you wanted to drag Mark back into yours.

A soft knock sounds at your front door breaking the spell between the two of you, but also sends a bolt of anxiety through your body.

You groan audibly.

How the hell am I going to explain Mark being in my apartment?!

“See if you feel that way when the guy shows up, you might as well just not go at all. Don’t worry, I’ll let him down easy for you.” Mark turns to go towards your door.

“No!” You shout grabbing the back of his jacket, tugging him back, but Mark doesn't move an inch in your direction.

Damn him for being so solid and broad.

Instead, he opens the door.

Devin stands there in the brilliant light of the hallway, holding a small bouquet of magenta and white carnations, wearing the same sharp black suit, blue tie, white shirt combo that he wore every single day to work without fail. His auburn hair is combed back in simple waves that curl behind his ears, the dark dusting of freckles over his cheeks giving him a boyish quality, the exact opposite of the infuriating man blocking you from view.

"Hey-" Devin's greeting stops mid-way as he makes eye contact with Mark, who only smirks down at the man inhabiting the space just beyond your front door.

Mark is taller than him, broader too. Seeing the two of them standing there reminded you of those pictures on the internet of Kevin Hart and Dwayne Johnson.

"Hey there champ." Mark says while flashing a broad smile. He's obviously pleased with the turn of events and it makes you want to curl up into a ball in die. "How's it going?"

Because how in the hell were you going to explain Mark to Devin?

"Oh hey Devin! This is Mark, he stopped by for a quickie before our date" did not sound like something that you said to the father of your future children.

"Um… good." Devin clears his throat, still not able to see where you're standing behind Mark in your living room. "I'm sorry I must have the wrong apartment."

"I think you do bud-" Mark begins to shut the door, but you push past him- well, you try to. Mark is built like Paul Bunyan and moving him was like Moses trying to get water from a rock.

"No, he doesn't-" You whisper sharply under your breath to Mark, only earning the same glorious rumble-like chuckle that makes your knees feel like they're clacking together. "Hi Devin!" You say to him with far too much anxious enthusiasm. There was enough of it crackling through your synapses that you could power all of NYC in a blackout.

"Hi." Devin repeats, his eyes flicking from Mark to you as he tried to figure out what he was missing.

"Sorry. Mark was just stopping by for-" Your hands wave anxiously in front of you, the excuses and lies you were about to spew from your mouth would have made milk curdle.

Devin's gaze falls to the red thong that you still have clasped in your right hand, the tips of his ears pinkening when he realizes what it is.

Oh sweet baby corn.

"The laundry, right baby?" The humor in Mark's voice makes you want to feed him to Pickle, who would probably just lick him to death given how much Pickle loved Mark.

"NO!" You shout, eyes widening in panic. "Um. He was-um… fixing the window. Can never be too careful in LA right?" The awkward laughter that follows catches in the back of your throat as you toss the thong around the corner and into a potted plant out of sight. "All those break ins and whatnot."

"Yeah." Devin coughs out a half-laugh, but he doesn't look too convinced, probably because you live on the third floor. "Um. You look really nice."

"Thank you." You smile, but it was hard to. Not when Mark was still looking at you like a cat that got the canary and you felt your heart was flip-flopping around in your chest.

At this point you wished that your elderly neighbor Mr. Wyatt came out and flashed the three of you the way he always did whenever Evie and Sam visited, at least then there would be something else to awkwardly laugh at other than you.

I'll never understand why he moved out of that nudist colony, he sounds so happy whenever he talks about it.

"I got you these." Devin holds out the carnations. His hand trembles, gaze still shifting from Mark to you.

You didn't blame him.

You'd run into Mark at a bar one time when he had a date with him. A woman that looked like she walked right out of a playboy magazine, beautiful, sexy, poised… The rest of the night you couldn't help but compare yourself to her, focusing far too hard on all the little flaws that never let you rest whenever you looked at yourself in the mirror. And you were sure that Devin was having the same spiral of self-deprecation inside of his head at the moment given that Mark was well… Mark.

"Aww that's sweet." Mark coos. "Look he brought you flowers."

Anger surges up in a wave of heat to your cheeks.

Is he being serious right now? He shows up in the middle of the night after zero contact for nine months and he has the audacity to make fun of a man who is actually interested in dating me?

It was enough to remind you of why Devin was here. Devin was here because he genuinely wanted to take you out, because he genuinely wanted to have something more than whatever the hell Mark and you had. Something real.

Because you were worth more than this. Worth more than an errant text in the middle of the night that ended with Mark and you rolling around in your overpriced 1000 Egyptian cotton sheets.

And the thought is enough to sober you up.

You grind the stilettoed part of your heel down into Mark’s big toe, hoping that it hurts. "It is. Thank you Devin!" You take them gratefully with a genuine smile. "I love it when someone brings me flowers. Haven't had that in such a long time."

Mark stiffens slightly beside you, but you don't notice.

"I'm gonna go put these in water and grab my purse. Mark you can go." You don’t bother looking at him again when you turn to the kitchen to find the only vase you have, a crystal vase that is a relic of another time, when men actually brought flowers and held open doors for women they liked.

Not show up in the middle of the night like a bat out of hell looking for a quickie.

"So soon?" Mark says to your back, but you can hear the grin in his voice. "I was hoping to get to know your friend Devin a little better. See what his intentions are."

"Oh-oh well- um I mean-" Devin coughs awkwardly, before adjusting his round glasses with a trembling hand. "I mean she's-"

"That's none of your business Mark." You glare at him from behind the kitchen island before unwrapping the plastic from around the stems and placing the flowers in the vase.

My life is none of his business. I told him countless times that I didn’t want to keep doing this. I’m not going to give in because he shows up out of the blue and gives me attention.

"I beg to differ."

"I don't."

"Tomato, Tomah-to." Mark shrugs. "So Devin where are the two of you going tonight?"

Devin opens his mouth to answer.

"Don't answer that." You interrupt, giving Mark one good shove to push him out into the hallway beside Devin before you lock the door. "He doesn't need to know."

"Actually I do. There's a lot of unsafe places in LA-"

"No, you don't." You fluff your hair over your shoulder giving him a glare. "Now go."

The movement makes Mark's eyes go back down to the soft and supple skin just above your breasts, lingering for a moment too long to be just friendly. "You sure you don't need a coat?" His voice has dropped a few octaves, a coarse grit that lives in the back of his throat.

"Why would I need a coat?"

"Because it's cold tonight." Mark clears his throat, but you watch his gaze flicker to Devin, who also has his gaze focused on your chest.

Wait a minute is he… jealous?

"You can have mine!" Devin offers, his eyes flicking away from the top of your chest.

"Aww." A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as you gently touch the end of his tie. "What a gentleman. It's nice to see that chivalry isn't dead.” The glare that you throw in Mark's direction makes the end of his lips twitch.

Mark mutters something under his breath, but you don’t care. You were past all of this. Mark didn’t have a right to suddenly show up in your life again, so you weren’t going to give him the time to. And he certainly had nothing to be jealous about, not when you gave him every opportunity to date you.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to dinner.” You loop your arm in Devin’s. “I’ll see you around Mark.”

You don’t give him a chance to answer you, instead you lead Devin down the hallway and into the elevator that by some miracle is on your floor and you don't have to wait awkwardly for it to arrive feeling the heat of Mark's gaze on your back.

But as the doors begin to close, you catch one last glimpse of Mark where he stands outside your door, and even though he's wearing the signature smirk, something flashes in his eyes that you can't place, an emotion that briefly flickers through the familiar green for a moment so fast you think you missed it.

"And I told him not to take his brother's toy, but Snowball is such a little stinker that he never listens to me-" Devin babbles, auburn hair waving around his head with the enthusiastic bob of his head. His phone is clutched in his right hand, stretched half-way across the table to show you a video of his not one, not two, but six cats all tumbling together on the floor of his apartment in a multicolored heap of fur and teeth. "And just look at Kida! She can't wait to start biting Milo's ears."

"Oh wow. That's crazy." You tip the rest of your wine glass back to catch the last few drops of red before trying to make frantic eye contact with your waiter who is nowhere to be found to beg him with your eyes for another glass.

By now the amount of times that you'd fake smiled in the past twenty two minutes was making your right eye twitch and your cheeks burn.

The car ride to the restaurant had been fraught with awkward silences, each one filled with the image of Mark back in your apartment, when he'd stood so close to you that all you could smell was the heady scent of his shampoo and you could feel the rough trace of his fingertips against your cheeks while his smirk did so many things to your body it felt like it had betrayed you.

Is this how Obi-Wan felt? No. Because Obi-Wan wasn't on the worst date of his life with someone who described in detail every single pair of socks he had in his sock drawer.

At first you'd thought that maybe you were imagining how boring Devin was, because you were still focused on Mark's sudden appearance, but by now you knew that you should have just left whatever this was back at the office rather than bring it out in the open.

Which really sucked because the restaurant was perfect.

Each table was covered in white tablecloths with soft yellowed light coming from a flickering candle, there a small raised platform in the corner had a band singing just low enough to bring the tickle of music through the air, the attentive waiters wove through the crowded restaurant wearing perfectly pressed suits, and the rich smell of cheese, bread, and wine flooded out into the room on a wave that made your mouth water. It was the kind of place that had just the right amount of romance and magic that would make a first date unforgettable…

Unfortunately the only thing making this date unforgettable was the three videos that Devin had showed you about the pack of cats he had living in his apartment, the conversation he'd started about the different kinds of paper he used at the office and how to avoid ink smudges, and the shadow of Mark's reappearance on your doorstep.

The bread basket laid empty on the table between the two of you, a side-effect of the stress eating that wouldn't stop from the second you sat down because you were trying not to say something that would hurt his feelings. Shoving bread in your mouth seemed to be a better option.

Truthfully, the only thing you were really trying to do was not compare him to Mark, but that was hard.

Mark was everything Devin wasn't. The two of you never had a problem finding something to talk about and Mark never failed to make you laugh. His sense of humor and wit brought something light to conversations and you never laughed as much as you did whenever he was around. Which was about as infuriating as it was annoying, that Mark not only was gorgeous, but he had the charm to back it up.

But the longer you sat on this date with Devin all it did was discourage you. The men that you liked never wanted to be more than just "friends" and the ones that you tried to like never seemed to live up to the hype of the ones you did. All you wanted was for someone you actually liked to be interested or at least be willing to try.

It was enough to make you want to go back to your apartment, curl up under a blanket, and watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding or some other rom-com where the love interest didn't disappoint you.

"I'm going to go to the little boys room." Devin says, pushing back his chair with a grating scrape against the hardwood floor that makes the people in the tables around you turn and look at him.

Maybe it’s not too late to fake an illness.

You were already planning to send the code word to Evie and Sam so they gave you a call, but you were hesitant. As disappointed as you were with this date, there was still some little part of you that wanted it to work, to justify wearing this dress and this amount of makeup out on a Friday night. You had carved out the time to do it, you had spent hours trying to figure out what to wear, and it felt like a waste to just cut your losses and go back to your empty apartment.

That was the most unfortunate part of this, that you would end up at your apartment all over again, where the memories of the time Mark and you spent there were haunting the halls like a Victorian ghost in a creaky mansion on the coast. All it would do was remind you of how single you were and how much you wanted something to change.

You’re contemplating this exact thought when a familiar voice shatters through the wave of disappointment.

"Ugh, I thought he'd never leave." Mark breezes as he slides into Devin's recently emptied seat. "How many stories can one man tell about his six cats? Just embarrassing. He's like a walking life model replica of the 40-year-old virgin. Talk about a mood killer."

He sends a knowing smile in your direction as if you're sharing a private joke. “And what’s up with ‘little boys room?’ He’s a man trying to get a woman into bed with him and he calls himself a ‘little boy?’ Come on! Does he want you to read him a bedtime story or something too?”

"What the hell are you doing here?!" You whisper yell as loud as you dare.

And older couple at the table beside yours gives you a dirty look.

I’m sorry that my soap opera of a life is shattering your romantic anniversary! Really I am!

You say with your eyes, but they only turn back to each other, the same annoying lovey-dovey looks in their eyes pulling at your heartstrings.

Sometimes it was hard to see how happy everyone else was.

It’s enough to make a girl want to be a divorce lawyer.

A busty blonde at another table wearing a dark red dress gives Mark a once over and bites the inside of her cheek, it does little to soothe the feelings of anger and frustration that grind your teeth together whenever he shows up in your life.

"Did you follow me? Are you stalking me?"

"Believe it or not, not everything revolves around you sweetheart." Mark leans towards you over the table with a smile that could warm a penguin standing on an ice floe in the middle of a frozen sea.

"Oh please." You narrow your eyes. "I'm not buying that for one second. Why are you here?"

"Alright, I have the chicken parmesan for the lovely lady." Your waiter says as he appears beside your table, toting an overlarge tray. "And the lasagna for-" The waiter tilts his head to the side when he spies Mark. You can see the gears turning in his head while he tries to figure out if he remembered wrong and Mark has been there the whole time. "Um- you I guess."

"Thanks buddy."

"Can I please get another glass of wine, please?" You ask.

I'm gonna need the whole bottle to get through the rest of tonight.

Your waiter nods, casting one more odd look at Mark before walking away.

Mark takes a bite of Devin’s lasagna and audibly moans. “Fuck that’s good. I'll say this about Dev, he knows how to order!”

“Don’t eat his food!” You smack the fork out of his hand so hard it clatters to the floor. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you." Mark leans back in Devin's chair, running a hand through his dark hair.

Your mouth drops open in shock.

He was worried about me? Really?

A little voice inside your head whispers. It was the same little voice that often appeared when he would be laying beside you and offered advice when you would complain about your job or your parents. The one that sometimes made you think that Mark wanted more, the small sliver of hope that clung on with bloody fingernails.

“Why are you worried about me? Devin's a lawyer, not a murderer."

"You never know. But I had this gut feeling that you'd need someone to help you bail out of this date. I mean come on, you're going to waste a dress like that on him?" Mark's eyes drag down the length of your body, the candlelight kissing the soft curves of your body.  "Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?"

A thrill pulses through your body with his words, but again you hate him for doing this. For showing up all over again right when you had cut him out of his life and were trying to move on, for him thinking that the two of you could just go back to doing whatever it was and him leaving every single morning like it didn't break your heart each time.

I can't only blame him. It's my fault too.

You ignore the compliment. “Can you please get out of here before he comes back?”

“Good idea! I’ll call you in five minutes, fake an emergency and see you back at your place.”

“I am perfectly capable of faking my own emergency thank you very much!” You hiss.

“So you admit that you need to?

You hated how smug he looked, hated that he seemed to be having the time of his life acting like a complete jerk while you were trying to salvage what was left of your trainwreck of a dating life.

“Mark!”

“Okay, okay.” Mark chuckles, standing up from the chair. "I'll see you around." He turns to go, but looks back over his shoulder. "You really do look beautiful-" Mark says your name in that lovely rumble that curls deep into the pit of your stomach.

Water falling over rocks.

A soft patter of rain against the roof of a car.

The crash of the waves on an empty beach.

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

"Oh wow this looks so good." Devin says as he slides back into the chair across from you without the same lithe grace of the man who vacated it moments ago. "Huh, where'd my fork go."

"Your glass miss." The waiter places another glass of wine in front of you.

Yeah. Definitely gonna need the bottle.

The sharp click of your door closing is the only thing that gives you hope when you enter your apartment. You press your face against the strong wood of the inside of the door as if it could give you strength. The rest of the date had been a downward spiral. Devin kept trying to make conversation, but each time it fizzled out into nothing.

So you like cats?

Yep.

*awkward silence*

What do you think about the economy?

It's economic.

*silence*

Do you think that the government has been hiding the technology for lightsabers?

Maybe?

The entire night could go into the same category as the Hindenburg and the Titanic. Evie and Sam were waiting with bated breath for you to call them and give them the low down on everything that happened, but you didn't want to call because then you'd have to bring up Mark. They'd heard enough of him in the past, told you that you were too good to go back to start that all over again, and you partly believed them.

You did think that you were worth more, the problem was finding someone that made you feel the same way you felt about Mark, and if tonight was any indication about the dating pool in LA, it seemed like there was nothing to look forward to.

You exhale heavily.

"Oh good you're home. I fixed your window." Mark's voice floats through the air.

You turn around and spy him reclining back on your couch, beer bottle in hand, face illuminated by the blue glow of the Lakers game that's playing on your TV. Pickle sits next to him, laying his head on Mark's thigh, snoring as if the man in question isn't trespassing.

Some watchdog.

"Oh for the love of- why are you still here?! Don’t you have someone else to bother?!” You snap.

Mark tilts his head to the side in contemplation. “Nope.”

"Mark please-" Emotion lodges itself in the back of your throat, frustration and anger forming a hardened ball that makes your eyes burn.

"What?" He stands, worry pulling his eyebrows together, mouth turning down in a frown. "What's wrong? Did that asshole try something?"

"No! But this asshole did!" You throw your clutch at him.

It glances off his broad chest and tumbles to the ground. Pickle leaps off the couch to pick it up before dragging it back to his lair in the corner. It was really an old throw pillow that you'd had forever that was shaped like his namesake, but…

"Me? What did I do?" Mark looks confused.

"Everything!" You seethe.

Surely he can't be this stupid.

"You're blaming your bad date on me? Come on sweetheart. That was gonna tank. Who brings someone carnations? That's what you bring your sick grandmother in the hospital. He should have brought you roses-"

"Don't you dare mock him for that! You have no experience bringing me flowers!"

Mark only rolls his eyes. "If you wanted me to I would have."

"I can't do this with you. Please get out of my apartment." You sigh, attempting to push past him to go to your bedroom, but Mark shifts his imposing figure to block your way, staring down at you with a mix of confusion and concern.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong-"

"Why do you care?" You spit. "You've made it perfectly clear that you only care about me for one thing."

He blinks, once, twice, holding up his hands in front of him defensively. "Whoa I mean I-"

"No! No talking!" You shove your finger into his chest, the angry tears spilling from your eyes, smearing the makeup down your cheeks. "I will not do this to myself again. I will not fall back into this sick pattern I have with you where you use me and I-"

"I do not use you! It's not like that-"

"Yes it is! Each time we go through this I hate myself. I hate myself for thinking that I deserve this. Hate myself for not being able to cut you loose. Shit, I think I must be a fucking masochist because very single damn time you come slithering back into my life with that charming smile, piercing green eyes, and sexy-"

"You think I'm sexy?" Mark interrupts as he raises a teasing eyebrow, making the all-American rage burn even hotter through your body, beating it's wings against your rib cage so hard it hurts.

"Get out."

"Come on-"

"No. Each time I fall for it. I think 'this time will be different, that maybe he'll change his mind' or 'wow he's really changed,' but you haven't. You're still the same selfish asshole that I keep falling back on and keep letting into my head and into my heart-." You shake your head with a heavy sigh. "But it's my fault too.  I'm the one who knew you didn't want me and yet I still kept letting you in like I think it will change, but it never does! And every single damn time I pick up the pieces of myself when you leave and try not to think 'what did I do?'"

"I didn't know that."

Something crosses through Mark's eyes that looks surprisingly like remorse, but you ignore it, because you're not sure if he even cares, if he's just trying to do it to make you feel bad for showing him the cards that you've kept so close to your chest the entire time that you'd known him.

"Oh you did! You know that I wanted to be more and instead of staying gone, you just keep coming back! But I'm not going to do this to myself anymore. I am worth more than just whatever the fuck this is!"

You try again to push past him, not wanting to look at him anymore, wanting to curl up beneath your blankets and try to shut the rest of the world out, but Mark doesn't let you pass.

"No." He frowns.

"What?" You blink in surprise, rubbing your face with the back of one hand.

What the hell is he talking about? Why won't he just get out?

"No. I'm not going to leave. Not when you're like this."

“If you don’t leave I’m going to call the police!” You threaten.

“Okay." He shrugs. "Call them. I'll just tell the chief that my girl is just acting crazy and don't bother sending a patrol car.”

“I’m not acting crazy! And I’m not your girl!”

“It’s what you want though right?”

You open and close your mouth, gaping at him like a fish out of water. Mark's head is tilted to the side something hovering in his eyes that pries open your ribcage. “Not anymore.”

It's a lie and you know it. It was harder to believe it when his musk was everywhere all over the room, the one that made your head feel fuzzy and the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

More like a murder of crows.

“You hesitated.”

The smirk is back, haunting, sexy, annoying as fuck. The familiar glimmer of humor in his eyes like a slap in the face. You hated that he was turning this into a big joke.

“No, I didn’t.” The back of your hand that you swipe over your cheeks comes back smeared with foundation and mascara.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t-“

“I don’t understand why you want to stand there wasting all this time giving me shit when we could be getting to the fun part.” Mark shrugs.

“I told you that I wasn’t going to sleep with you!" You scream at the top of your lungs, so done with all of this, done talking to him, done trying to explain what he should already know instead of laughing at you.

It’s the closest that you'd ever been to hitting someone, which was odd for you because you’d rather use your words than physical violence. It was, after all, why you became a lawyer.

“So you’re admitting that sleeping with me is the fun part?” He chuckles.

Your teeth grind together so tight you can hear the scrape in your ears. 

How can one man be so infuriating and so hot at the same time?

"I'm not going to do this with you right now. I'm exhausted and I want to go to bed-"

"Good me too."

"We are not going to have sex! How many times do I have to say that?"

"One more time, I love the sound of your voice."

"Mark." His name comes out in a growl. "Why won't you leave? What is so important that you think you need to stay?"

Mark hesitates. His body shifts the weight from foot to foot, contemplating his next words as his eyes slowly drag over your body. "I don't know I've been-" He sighs. "I've been really thinking about you over the past nine months."

"And you didn't come by once?" You feign shock, pressing one hand to your chest. "Wow, must have taken some restraint."

And because Mark obviously isn't going to let you go to your bedroom, you turn to the kitchen to find something a little stronger than the wine you had at dinner. The buzz was wearing off and you weren't ready for any of this.

There were two parts of yourself at war, the part that wanted him to go because you were so tired of him and the other part that lived in the hope that Mark really did care.

I'm so pathetic. Why can't I just let this guy go? What is so damn special about Mark Fucking Meachum that I feel the need to torture myself over and over again?

You grit your teeth together to stop the flood of frustrated tears from coming again.

"I couldn't exactly stop by. I was undercover." He shakes his head to flick away the thought. "But that's not important. The most important thing is that I missed you."

"Wow." The heavy slam of the glass in your hand from the cabinet against the counter punctuates the word. "I can't believe you."

"What did I do now?"

"That you would stoop that low to say that you missed me to get me to sleep with you. What is wrong with you-"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You show up here at night," You slam closed the cabinet. "Messing with my life all over again," Another cabinet slams. "and even though I've said several times that I want you to leave you keep hanging around making me think that you actually give a fuck."

It would help if you could remember where you hid the emergency bottle of scotch that one of the senior partners gifted you at Christmas, at least then you'd be a little more drunk and the possibility of remembering this conversation would be less.

"I do give a fuck!" Anger flashes in his eyes as he takes a step closer to where you're hovering in the kitchen. "You are being so unreasonable right now-"

"No, you don't-" You turn away from him reaching for another cabinet, hoping that this one will have the bottle you so desperately need. "You're here because you're bored. You've made it perfectly clear that you only want one thing from me and I'm not going to give it to you. Not anymore.”

Mark's hand comes down hard on your shoulder turning you fast into him that you drop the glass in your hand to the floor, sending the shards in every direction. Mark's gaze catches yours, green eyes burning through the light of your cramped kitchen, the feeling of his rough hands against the bare skin of your shoulders making the familiar shiver travel down your spine.

"I don't want one thing from you." Mark growls. "I want all of you. But I can't."

"Oh fuck you. How stupid do you think I am? That sounds like a ridiculous fuckboy line. I want to be with you, but I can't? Same as it’s not you it’s me. Come on-" You struggle to turn away, but Mark jerks you back to look at him.

"It's not a damn line and I don’t think you’re stupid. I can't." He says through gritted teeth, face contorted in frustration.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm-" Mark squeezes his eyes shut, jaw locked tight together. "Because there's no future with me!"

"What the hell you talking about? Is this about your job? How dangerous you think it is? Because I don't care what you do-"

"It's not about that."

"Then what is it?” You scream back at him. This entire situation was reaching ridiculous levels and all you wanted was for it to reach a head so he could leave and you could cry, really cry over the phone with Evie and Sam. "What is this big secret that you just can't-"

"I have cancer!" Mark shouts.

The statement sucks out all the air in the room. For a moment you're not sure you heard him right, but judging from the way he releases your shoulders and bows his head like he's been caught running with scissors you know you did. You blink at him, mouth opening and shutting in surprise. "What did you say-"

"I have cancer." He repeats. "Fucking brain cancer actually. Can you believe that after all the reckless shit I've done, I get taken out by something like cancer. Really?" Mark flashes a signature grin, but it doesn't reach his eyes and comes across more rueful, cruel. "Fuck-" He sighs.

You're not sure what's more surprising… the fact that he has cancer or the fact that Mark admitted that he did want more, the very thing that you’d been hoping for since the moment he sauntered into your life.

Mark goes back to the couch in your living room to find his beer, taking a swig before he sits down. The leather forms around his body with a high pitched squeaking sound, the silence growing the longer he sits there.

"You don't know that." You say tentatively to his back.

"I do. Talked to a specialist, basically signed a death warrant." Mark mutters, running his hand over his face. His head is bowed, forearms braced against his muscular thighs as he stares down at your hardwood floor.

"What about chemo?" You ask him as you take a step closer, still a little unsure.

"No point."

"Surgery?"

"Inoperable."

"How do you know that?"

"That's what the doc said."

He hasn't looked at you since he said the 'c' word, almost as if he's ashamed to admit it, as if there's some part of him that thinks you'll think less of him for being vulnerable, for being human.

You sit beside him on the couch, measuring your next words. "And you just listened to him? Took his word for it?"

"Yes? What else was I supposed to do? Why would he lie about something like that?"

You nod for a second, quietly contemplating the entire situation. Well, you were, until you decided to get angry again. The pomegranate beaded pillow comes down hard against Mark's unprotected shoulder with the force of your swing.

He looks up at you, eyes wide in surprise. "What the hell was that for?"

You bring it down hard again, and he shifts up off the couch to get away from you, but you follow, chasing behind him and brandishing the pillow.

"Stop! What are you doing?!" Mark holds up his hands moving around the back of the couch with you in close pursuit.

"I can't believe you! You're just sitting back and letting this take you? You who are the most stubborn man I've ever met in my entire life is giving up?!” You shriek, going in for another swing that Mark dodges. 

"I am not giving up! I'm still working!"

"Oh good. Glad to hear that you're recklessly throwing yourself into your job. What a typical Meachum move." You hit him again.

"Stop it! I am not-" Mark huffs out a breath, holding one of his arms up to protect his face. "What else are you suggesting? It's fucking cancer!"

"Then we find you a new doctor!" You shout.

"What?"

"We get a second opinion!"

"But what if-"

You swing the lumpy purple pillow in an ungraceful arch to hit him in the shoulder, hoping to knock some sense into him because someone had to.

"No! ifs! We keep trying to find a solution. Until we find a doctor that understands that Mark Meachum isn't just going to sit on his ass and let something like this beat him! Mark Meachum is not going to go quietly into the night damn it!"

He's looking at you like you're crazy and maybe you are. Maybe you care way too much for the man who has annoyed you to death all night long, but you don't care. All you cared about was him, even if he didn't want to be more than friends or whatever the fuck the two of you were, you weren't going to let him sit and wallow like a jilted bride.

There's irony in there somewhere.

"I cannot believe that you would just sit back and-" You begin to say, but you don't get far.

Mark's body crashes into you, tackling you back against the leather couch so fast that you don't have time to take a breath. The pillow tumbles from your hand onto your hardwood floor.

His mouth molds against yours, lips soft and urgent, his beard burning pleasantly against your cheeks.

"Mark what are you doing-"

"I've never understood how you do that."

"Do what?" You breathe.

"How you seem to know exactly what to say to make me lose my damn mind." His thumb rubs over your swollen bottom lip. "Fuck, each time I come here you always kick my ass into gear. I don't know what it is, you're like a damn unicorn."

Emotion builds in your chest as he stares down at you. "Mark I'm being serious, I can't do this to myself again. I-"

"You won't have to." Mark murmurs, brushing his lops back against yours so earnest, so differently than all the other times he'd kissed you that it pulls the air from your lungs.

It's like muscle memory the way he feels on top of you, the rough grate of his stubble rubbing against your cheeks, your heels locking behind his waist as he makes a home for himself between your thighs, and your hands coming up to hold both sides of his cheeks as if you never wish to let him go.

The rational part of your mind has gone silent, the animal released from it's cage as you lose yourself in everything Mark is. His body is hard and unyielding where it rests on top of yours, his hands trailing fire across your chest and down to your hips, finding the familiar curve of your thighs where you've trapped him in. He makes a sound in the back of his throat that you echo, the only thought in your mind fueled by the fear of losing him.

Because it was there, anchored just under your heart where you'd hidden it for the past nine months while you tried to ignore how much you thought about him.

He pulls back, large hands tight on your waist, thumbs moving in soothing circles around the curve of your pelvis. Mark's green eyes have gone dark, pupils so wide that you're not sure what's the stormy green and what has faded to black.

"You really don't care?" Mark breathes.

"Care about what?" Your hands cup his cheeks, gaze urgently searching his and trying to find some clarity. "You? Of course I care about you. I wish I didn't."

"No." He shakes his head with a painful smile. "That we'd have an expiration date?"

"Like a dairy product? A best if used by? Those aren't exactly the most reliable."

The joke makes him chuckle, the vibration of it working up through his chest, dragging along your own nerve endings where he's pressed against you. "You don't think it's a waste of time?" Something vulnerable flashes in his eyes, something that you'd never seen before.

"No." You shake your head, thumb stroking across his cheekbones as you pull his face down to yours once more. "Not if it means that I got to be with you. Having all the time in the world is overrated, plus I'm sure that you’d annoy me to death way before you kicked the bucket."

"Somebody has to."

His lips meet yours again, hands dragging down your curves in a way that makes you gasp and arch upwards into his chest while working your fingers into the dark hair at the nape of his neck to pull him impossibly tighter against you, wanting to drown in everything he was, afraid to let him go for even a second.

"Will you go out with me?" Mark whispers against your lips.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @roseblue373 @angrydragon90

@kmc1989

[kittenlittle24]

Take My Vitals Masterlist

Masterlist

Pedro Pascal x Fem!reader

Summary: Pre-med perfectionist [Your Name] thought her gap year internship at The Late Night Hour would be a fun, low-stakes break before med school. Then she literally runs into Pedro Pascal backstage—and somehow becomes his secret lifeline in the chaos of live TV. Between cue cards, coffee runs, and chemistry that won’t quit, she starts to wonder: is this just a summer detour… or something more?

Wattpad link

Chapter 1: Wrong Turns & Right Angles

Chapter 2: The Wait and The Wine

Chapter 3: Off Script Moments

Chapter 4: Proof of Life

Chapter 5: Casual Abduction

Chapter 6: The Pen Theory of Relativity

Chapter 7: Study Session & Stolen Kisses

Chapter 8: The Taste of Goodbye

Chapter 9: A Charged Silence

Chapter 10:Sober Words & Drunk Silence

Chapter 11:The Hoodie Theorem

[mxyarylla]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

Neuvillette fluff, established relationship, neuvi x fem reader, NO mention of y/n

⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆ ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆ ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆ ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆

You visited your husband in the afternoon, just before he had to attend a trial. You made your way to his desk and cast a quick glance at the paperwork that got him occupied. “Give me a moment my love.” he says, not taking his eyes off the paper. But he did hold your hand firmly and rubbed your hand with his thumb.

You sat on his desk, with his left hand holding yours. This view puts a smile on your face. You see him relax a little more than when you first came in. You were so entranced by the beauty of your husband that you didn’t notice that he was finished with his papers for a while now and was staring back at you with the same expression as yours. A lovely smile with soft eyes full of love and adoration.

Your smile only widened at the sight in front of you. “Seems like I was caught admiring my pretty husband.” you said while Neuvillette pulled you on his lap. He nuzzled in your neck and held you tightly. “Charging before a trial love?” Your husband didn’t answer but he simply nodded holding you tighter.

A few moments later, you feel a soft kiss on your neck. “Thank you my love.” When he lifted his head, you kissed him. “Anytime love.” And you gave him the loveliest smile in all of Teyvat.

⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆ ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆ ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆ ⊹ ₊ ⟡ ⋆

[thetriumphantpanda]

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (The Epilogue)

Summary | A final visit to our favourite family.

Word Count | 1.6K

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food, allusions to smut, brief talk of difficult pregnancy, family dynamics, lots of fluff & a little surprise for you in this.

Authors Note | Well, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we made it! Trial & Error Season 2 is complete, which marks the end of the line for my favourite threesome and their family. I firstly wanted to say thank you to each & every one of you for continuing to support this story and me. I never dreamt that you would love these three as much as I love them, and I will always be eternally grateful to this story for helping me through some tough times this year. I hope you love this ending as much as I do, and if you, I'd love to hear from you. Please always feel like you can scream at me in my inbox, and reblogs & comments also really help. This isn't it from our fabulous threesome, I have one-shots and ideas to bring to life in the future, but for now, it's adios to Joel, Pretty Girl & Tommy. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow@thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The sun is warm but there is a slight breeze that crosses your skin, moves the long grass on the ground and rustles the trees. The summer has been hot, but it’s moving into time of year where it cools a little, isn’t so stifling that it makes you want to tear your skin off or spend all your time in an ice bath. 

You smile, watching not one, but two young children, just after their second birthday’s, sit in the grass and play together. Twins. Two baby girls. Your heart is full. Your soul is full. Your family is complete in a way you never thought it would be. Sitting on the porch, mug of coffee in hand, you can see the broad expanse of a man walking towards you. The sun is blocking his features from view, framing him perfectly in light. You’d know that outline anywhere. Joel. 

“How are my girls?” He smiles, bending down and placing one of his palms on the back of Ava’s head, the other hand holding one of the toys up for Addie to take hold of in her little hand. 

He stands again, walking up onto the porch to where you’re sat. He dips to kiss your forehead, then, when you tilt your head to him, he presses a kiss to your lips too, “And how is my pretty girl?” 

“I’m good,” You smile, snaking your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss, “Worked hard?” You ask once you’ve pulled away, letting him sit next to you on the porch bench. 

“Can you not tell?” He chuckles, pulling the rag from his pocket to wipe his brow of sweat. 

You put a palm on his thigh, looking back out onto the land you now call home. It’s vast, fields upon fields of open land. You can see the other house in the distance, the one Tommy and Joshua call home, the one that you spend half of your time in. It’s a pleasant walk between them, one you’ll take tomorrow morning, twins in arm. A ranch. Land bought when you’d found out you were pregnant again, this time with two babies, not one. It's further outside of the city, which you love. Peace and quiet and a wonderful place to raise your children. Joel and Tommy had worked hard throughout the nine months you’d carried Ava and Addie, taking contracting jobs wherever they could find them, squirrelling away enough money to build the life you have now. You’d offered the inheritance money from your parents who had passed away just before you’d met Tommy, which had built the two houses you all called home. Joel has insisted on sheep for the ranch, whilst Tommy had wanted cattle, so they’d compromised and gone with both. 

You hadn’t thought that being the wife of two ranchers would have been something you’d enjoy, but you’d proved yourself wrong. You could take Joshua to school each morning and pick him up each afternoon, you could spend as much time as you wanted with your baby girls, you’d learnt to bake properly, and cook meals for everyone each evening. You would all sit together, eating and drinking into the evening, until you fell into one bed or the other, curled up next to Tommy or Joel, and sometimes even both of them, until you fell asleep and started all over again the next morning. It was the life you loved, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

You can see Tommy walking from the other house, Joshua’s hand clutched in his own. He’d taken him out today, let him ride with him on his horse, mostly in an effort to tire him out because at six years old, he was starting to run rings around everyone with his energy. 

You watch as they come into view, Joshua dropping Tommy’s hand when he recognises his baby sisters. He’s always been so gentle with them. He kneels down on the blanket with them, picking up some of the toys in his hands to start playing with them. He hands Ava a small wooden car, and Addie gets one that is slightly bigger that she can’t quite hold properly. He tries to get them to engage in a race but it’s relatively futile, they just giggle at him and wave their arms around. 

You chuckle to yourself as Tommy heads up onto the porch too, he bends to give you a kiss similar to the way Joel had, but leans against the post that connects the porch to the roof that covers it, taking out his own rag to wipe his hands with. You’re about to open your mouth to ask if anyone is hungry, when the front door is ripped open and the newest addition to your family comes bounding out. 

“Didn’t keel over and die today then, old man.” 

You bite back a chuckle, as does Tommy, but Joel doesn’t seem to find it so funny. 

“What have I told you about bein’ rude, Ellie?” 

“I wasn’t being rude,” She shrugs, “I was just being observant.” 

You think you hear him mutter something about her being a little shit under his breath, which of course is no better than her previous comment, but you let it lie, “Anyone hungry?” You ask. 

Everyone agrees, so you push yourself up and head down the steps to pick up Addie. Joel follows behind, taking Ava in his arms, whilst holding his hand out for Joshua to take, walking everyone into Joel’s home, where the pot roast has been cooking for most of the day. 

Ellie hadn’t really been planned. Once the twins had been born, you’d thought that was it. It had been a hard pregnancy, you’d struggled with sickness at first, and then at the sheer amount of extra weight you’d been carrying around. You’d swollen in places you didn’t even know you had, and spent that last month being as still as possible. With the way your relationship had changed, you’d agreed early on that the twins would be as much Joel’s children as they were Tommy’s, but whenever Joel watched you walk away to spend time with his brother, which he didn’t resent in any way, and you took the twins with you, that big ranch house felt awful lonely to him, with Sarah still being away at college. 

He’d shocked you and Tommy when he’d sat you both down and mentioned adoption. Giving a home to someone who needed it. It had more rooms than he knew what to do with, space enough for another child. You don’t think you could have picked someone more perfect for him than Ellie. In some ways, she was the complete opposite of Sarah, but in others, they were very similar. She wasn’t ever going to be a replacement, Sarah still visited often, was still a huge part of everyone’s lives, but she kept him company in those lonely nights, made him laugh, kept him on his toes, and you loved her just as much as if she were your own. She was a love all of Joel's own.

Everyone takes their seat at the table, helps themselves to as much food as they want. Between mouthfuls of your own food, you help Addie eat, with Joel doing the same with Ava. Tommy is helping Joshua, who still doesn’t quite have the hang of how to properly cut things with his knife and fork, and Ellie is talking, mainly at Joel, about what she’d been doing that day. Its domesticity at its best. You and the two men you love with every fibre of your being, your children who you would lay down your life for, including Ellie. Everything you always wanted, all at the same time, no compromises. 

You sit around the table for most of the evening. Ellie helps you put the twins to sleep upstairs when they start dropping off. She knows the dynamic of the family, you’d sat her down one day when Joel and Tommy were out working, fumbling over the words of how to explain exactly how things worked. 

“So, they both love you, and you both love them?” She’d asked, mixing the batter for the cake you were making together, “Sounds cool,” She’s shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, “Just so long as I don’t ever have to hear what you and my old man get up to.” 

You’d smiled, given her a hug, and promised to keep it down with Joel whenever you were there. It proved to be difficult, that man knowing how to make you cry out and scream whenever he got his hands on you. 

Once Joshua has settled himself on the couch, resting quietly with the TV on in the background, and Ellie has gone to her room to read or whatever else it is she does up there, you reach next to you and take hold of Tommy’s hand. He clutches it right back, with Joel’s arm resting across your shoulders. You look up at Joel, who is smiling softly, with that glint in his eyes that tells you he’s dying to take you upstairs. 

You look Tommy directly in the eye, “Together?” You ask, squeezing his hand. 

“Together.”

And that’s how it is. That’s how it will always be. Some nights spent alone with your men, others spent sandwiched right between them as they take turns making you feel good, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you until you don’t know who you are or what day of the week it is. And then being able to snuggle into one of them, tonight you know it will be Joel, who will drape his arm over your waist and press his front as close to your back as is humanely possible, with Tommy clutching your hands from the front. Your two men, their girl, and the life you’d risked almost everything to have. 

THE END. 

[sofasoap]

Little first meet

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: How a mohawk Scottish man meet his bonnie bear

Warning : M rating. use of alcohol. flirting. A/N: Three glasses of wine in, half asleep I just want to spew their awkward first meeting out.

Part 7 of Little Bear series Masterlist

“Hello bonnie, are you new here?”

Glancing to the left, and to the right.  There’s no one else sitting beside you. Is he talking to you?? There must be some mistake. Surely this handsome stranger with a very exaggerated mohawk hair right in front of you isn’t trying to start a conversation with you. Or God forbid, trying to flirt with you????

“... You talking to me?” you asked in a weak voice. 

He chuckled as he flashes you a wide toothy smile, “Who else would it be? The most beautiful person in the whole pub.” gesturing to the stool beside you, “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Um, sure?”  You can feel the tip of your ears starting to burn. Fidgeting with the pint of beer in your hand, your mind started racing. Maybe he is just bored, or maybe he had a bet with his friend on how many people they can chat up with tonight in this pub.

This is the first time you left your hometown. First time in a brand new environment and you are a nervous wreck. 

You only moved to Credenhill a few weeks ago after getting a new job with a civilian company that has connections to the military that is stationed in the area. 

You have thought deep and hard before deciding to make that huge leap in your life, after seeing all your friends moving on with their life, achieving so much. And there you are, still living in your comfort zone. 

Tonight, you decided to check out the local pub that your new workmate had suggested with a good atmosphere and food. You had nothing better to do anyway on a Friday night.

“Maybe you will get lucky and some soldiers will hit on you!” They joke. “I had quite a bit of luck meeting some quite sexy soldiers. And I can assure you they have pretty good … stamina.” Winking and giggling away as you lower your head in embarrassment. 

Awkward silent bubble surrounded both of you as the bolstering noise of drunken pub goers around you continued.  You never had anyone hitting you before (He is flirting with you, right?)  What do you do in this situation? Who should start a conversation? Is it proper etiquette to look into their eyes or should you look away?

As your brain runs through all the possibilities and solutions, the mohawk man broke the silence and restart the conversation.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you here for a visit or?? I don’t imagine anyone will be here for sightseeing purposes.” Taking a sip from his own beer, he asked. “And it doesn’t look like you are waiting for anyone to join you either.” 

Good observant skill, you noted. “Um.I just moved here. Few weeks ago.” Shyly taking a peek at him as you bring your glass up for a sip for a drink, you realise you have a set of steel blue eyes. Beautiful steel blue eyes, drawing you deeper into his soul. 

Great, now you are gawking on him. 

His eyes brighten up as soon as you mention you are a new resident here.

“Well I hope you are settling in well. I must apologise that this little village has nothing to offer apart from basic amenities and boring soldiers.” he chuckles. 

“ And you are one of them?” you blurted out as your eyes caught a glimpse of his dog chain in his half buttoned up shirt. You slapped your mouth as soon as the sentence left your mouth. 

“Sorry. Not meaning to be so rude..” Embarrassment and anxiety starts bubbling up. That is one thing you are not good with. Socialisation. It’s either you don’t know how to carry on a conversation or letting your mouth run without thinking. Way to make a good impression with people. You thought.

Mohawk stranger laughed. “ I am indeed one of them. One of the best at boring your brains out. .” he smirked, “Although I am not as boring as my team mate Ghost.” 

“Ghost?” “Not his real name. That’s his call sign. He usually bored us to death with his dad jokes. Or our Captain. Nagging non-top most times like a mother hen. Don’t get me started on Gaz. He is too stiff for his own good sometimes.” 

“They sound like very interesting people.” You let out a little laugh. 

“Depending how you look at it.” He smiled. Pausing slightly as he thought for a second, “If you like, I can introduce them to you. Next time.” He looked at you in earnest. 

“Next time?” Your eyebrows arched up. There’s next time?

“Only if you want, bonnie.” smiling softly, “You look like you need some friends.” Noticing you stiffening, he winced as he straightened his back slightly. “Sorry. I meant no offence with that. I just thought you might want to make new friends in this new place.” 

You fidget in your seat even more. Can you really trust this man that you only just met tonight? 

And what is that good old warning people kept saying to you, never get involved with military personnel. They will surely break your heart. 

Still noticing your hesitation and discomfort, he hastily added, “If it makes you feel more comfortable, my sister is visiting soon. I can bring her along too. She is the one who usually keeps us all in check. Also to keep my blabbering mouth shut as well.” 

“But.......” 

“But?”

“... I don’t even know your name.”

Mohawk man opened his mouth for a second and closed before he slapped himself in the forehead. 

“Where are my manners? Let’s start again.” holding his hands out,

“John MacTavish. But people either call me Johnny or Soap.”

You later find out Johnny isn’t usually the type to introduce his close knit group right from get go. 

“I fell hard for you that day, Bonnie bear. Something in my heart tells me I must approach that lonely bonnie that is sitting in the corner all by herself and woo her with all my might.”

“Well luckily you didn’t use any of your lame pick up lines..”

“Aww Bonnie bear. I am sure you will still fall for the charming me nevertheless.”

“Sure sure… “

Taglist: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator

@random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @roosterr @brewed-pangolin @groguspicklejar

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Blue Moon

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (movies) Ship/Pairing: Eomer x Reader (one mention of reader wearing a dress) Trope: Noble x Humble worker Note: IT’S SOTWK’s FAULT. We talked about Eomer’s hands and here we are. The title « Blue Moon » is a reference to the song « Blue Moon », my favourite rendition being sung by Ella Fitzgerald. Warnings: Horses? Word count: 1 595 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

There was something hypnotising about his hands.

The way his palm moved along the planes of the horse’s back. They were delicate. Deliberate in their care for the animal. Several times today, you had caught your gaze lingering a little too long on his slender fingers and their dexterity. Several times you had wondered what they’d feel like against your skin, in your hair weaving braids during a quiet evening. Those were fairy tales. You did not dwell on them, even when it kept you up at night; heat clinging to your skin, the chilly wind doing nothing to help your wandering mind.

It seemed to appease his uneasy nature to come here. He would go in the early hours of the day, only to come back in the middle of the morning. To the outside world, he was a leader. Someone they could trust and follow into depths unknown. Here, he was only Eomer. You considered yourself lucky to have witnessed both.

Others were concerned by his willingness to spend so much more time with you instead of them. You had dismissed them easily enough, but the thought had lingered. Why was he only asking you to help him? A bucket, water, hay, a brush for the horse’s mane. You were not willing to fathom an answer, especially if it was the wrong one. Seeing him like this it made you happy enough. You were content with this, whatever this was.

From time to time, he would ask about your day and you would always answer the same things. Fine and good. Excellent, perfect or grand. Never would you have said what you wanted to say. That it was him who made those days fine, and good and excellent and perfect and grand. Until meeting him, working with horses had been your life’s dream, and you were fulfilled by it. When he was there, you weren’t so sure anymore. It felt as if all of him was completing what you had and did not know you were missing.

“What are you thinking about?”

Barely above a whisper, his question lingered in the air between the two of you, almost as if he had not meant to ask it aloud. He was still working his fingers through the hair, looking beyond the horse’s back, away from you. If he had looked at you, you could have traced a lingering hint of a pinkish hue on his cheeks.

A chilly breeze rose, and you had to tighten the cloth around your shoulder, crossing your arms close to your chest.

“Nothing important, Sire.”

A laugh echoed through the wooden box around you.

“Then why are you boring a hole in my skull with your staring?”

Your cheek felt warmer than they had been moments ago.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, sire. If you need me to go, I… — No. Stay.”

Eomer had not meant for his voice to grow this loud. Nor to turn around so abruptly. The nerves in him, electrified by your eyes, led him to act so.

It had grown almost suddenly, this affection he had for you. First, you were something to behold. Once he discovered your face, your features, the way you moved and talked, he only ever wanted you to be near him when the mask fell off. When he could be himself and not who he was supposed to be. Second, you never pressured him into talking, going silent for hours on end, just being there with him and Lia. She was not his usual horse. He preferred not to overexert Firefoot, especially after the events he had seen on the battlefields. You were the one to care for her when he could not, even before he started mounting her. The mare had a gentler temper, dark robe and larger body. She adored you and if instincts served him right, animals were always the true tellers of someone’s nature. Thirdly, and lastly, your presence calmed him like no one else could. Except when you were threatening to leave. Or when you were looking at him, behind his back. He never wanted you to stop looking at him like that. When your eyes were observing and kind on him, his weary body and his weary mind, he felt that he could take on another thousand wars just to find you here again, safe and sound, watching him. He only hoped you could say the same about him.

“As you wish, Sire.”

The goosebumps on your arms and the way you protected yourself from the cold struck him then. With the winds of winter approaching, the weather had gone incredibly cold, and you were only wearing a thin linen above your usual dress and robes. He stepped out of the box, coming closer to you as he’d ever been. He grabbed for a cover lying around. Those were used for the horses but they’d have to do. He wrapped it around you, as tight as he could. It smelled of the stables and hay. A hint of pink shattered across his cheekbones in the morning lights. Your breaths were leaving your lips in hot clouds between you. The way he settled his palms on your shoulders, securing the cloth around you, drove a whole different kind of shiver down your spine. You could feel his fingers over the fabric, his overexerted hands catching some threads, before he took them off you, gently. You could not help the sharp inhale you took when he did.

“Would not want you freezing to death on my account.”

His smile did not reach his eyes, but you felt the warmth it procured you down to your toes. At a loss for words, you smiled in return, trying to hide your face. Your arms were still secured against your chest but your heart was not as protected as you had hoped it would be.

In a thoughtless step, Eomer leaned down and brought his lips to your cheek. He could feel the burn of them under his skin. The way you looked up at him, bewildered and hopeful, brows knitted together in confusion, only made his mouth ache for more. Still, he would not do it unless you said so. He had already overstepped and behaved un-gallantly enough. Hence his surprise when he found your hands gripping at his lapel, obviously not willing to let him go. A soft curve graced his mouth, a pleasant feeling growing in him.

“Can I…?”

Your vigorous nodding let him know exactly what he wanted. Only then did he pull you closer, his hands drawing you in, the warmth you felt from his lips and the tenderness with which his fingers nestled against your jaw below your ears, enough to make you forget about the world around. Delicately, his mouth danced with yours, eager to please and swift to do so. Soon, his wide hand drew you in, pulling you at the waist. Your fingers met his heart through cloth and flesh and bones, beating in a rhythm only known to you both.

“I…”

You bit your lip while you could see him observing you through hooded eyes, his fingertips sending shivers down your arms. He was tracing the hollow of your cheek with his knuckles, leaving you breathless once more. He looked as if he had seen the most marvellous creature in the entire world. You could not believe it was you on the other end of that fantasy.

“I… do not know what to say… I… — Then you don’t need to say anything.”

His fingers found their way down the length of your throat. He looked positively charmed, yet you pulled back, hesitant. What if this had been… just a fling? Just something he could do, just because he wanted to. No other reason. No feelings involved. What if he was playing with you?

“I will. — What?”

He chuckled at your incredulous expression.

“I will say something. — Oh.”

He brought you back to him again, kissing your cheek.

“I…” He kissed your nose. “…will never…” your other cheek. “…ever…” Your fingertips now. “…let you…” This was getting on your nerves and he knew it, smirking behind your hand. “…be seen by anyone else but me, in this state.”

The last words murmured against your cheek, to the shell of your ear, elicited a burning anticipation deep in your bones.

“My King, I would never ever let anyone but me see you in this state. — I don’t think anyone had ever really seen me before you.”

His candid answer surprised you. In a tender caress, he stroked your back through the fabrics of your clothes, not thick enough to keep his touch at bay. A thumb ventured below your breast, too close to be accidental. You inhaled sharply.

“And I will never let anyone else see me like this. If you’ll have me, of course.”

His declaration hit your heart at an arrow’s speed.

“You really mean that? I’m not just a… — You’re not just anything. You are the world and beyond. You are everything. I hope to be everything to…”

Before he could finish, you pulled him down for another kiss. This one arousing and passionate; desires trapped, finally meeting in the middle.

“I will. I absolutely will.”

A heartbeat passed in his arms, trying to keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were asking me to… — … court and eventually marry you? Yes. And you said yes, you cannot take it back now.”

Your laughter rang through him as it rang through the stables, enlightening the new day ahead.

[just-another-star-47]

Winter nails

Just a small, soft moment.

Sebastian truly is my comfort character.

With an attentive look, Sebastian moved towards her before dropping onto the sofa next to her.

"What are you doing?"

She grinned at him and wiggled her fingers in front of his nose.

"Nail varnish. Look. Like the snow outside."

Beaming with joy, she turned her hand back and forth to show him the glitter in all facets of the light. As she began to run the brush along the next nails, leaving the bright, glittering colour on them, Sebastian leaned closer and silently watched the way she dipped her fingernails in colour while his nose wrinkled slightly.

"The smell is a bit pungent."

She paused in her movement.

"I'm sorry about that, I can...should I...?"

Indecisively, she looked first at him, then at her nails and then at the high windows in the common room, which couldn't be opened. As her lips pursed thoughtfully, Sebastian tapped the tip of her nose and stroked her cheek gently.

"It's all right."

When he received only a simple nod in response, he grabbed one of her hands and the nail varnish bottle. His brow furrowed in concentration, he let the brush glide over the nail, then turned her hand briefly to look at his work from all sides and nodded before moving on to the next nail.

She smirked and leant forward to press her lips gently against his forehead.

"Don't move, or I'll paint over it."

She laughed, which earned her a partly amused, partly frustrated look from Sebastian.

"I said, don't move."

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── PRETTY PRIVILEGE . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka you're jake's pretty, and he'll always give you pretty (princess) privilege.

── sim jaeyun xf!reader ౨ৎ wc. 981 ⌗ crack, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption, literally just crack, jake loves to spoil yn ugh when is it my turn

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── this one's a cutesy, short & sweet one! just a lil slice of life for ya. i love these little slices of life of jakeyn, pls give me more ideas/scenarios because they're my literal babies im never letting them go ever ever ever ever ever ever

You wake up feeling like death incarnate.

Your skull is throbbing. Your throat is dry. Your stomach is playing a dangerous game of will I or won’t I hurl all over my sheets?

The sunshine slipping through your curtains feel personally offensive to your eyes, and worst of all—

Your memory is vaguely plagued with Jungwon’s voice yelling at you to take just one more shot, because it’s in the name of lifelong friendship.

And you, the absolute genius you are, agreed.

Your life is in shambles.

You’re one second away from giving up on your future and letting the bed consume you when—

“Morning, pretty.”

The voice is soft. Sweet. Familiar.

And infuriatingly cheerful.

You groan, cracking one eye open to see your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed close to you, smiling down at you like he woke up next to Sleeping Beauty herself and not a half-dead raccoon.

“Ew,” you croak, “Why do you sound so alive.”

Jake chuckles, bright and so boyish, entirely too entertained the suffering of your consequences, “Because I wasn’t the one peer pressured into drinking my body weight in tequila.”

You let out a dramatic groan, flipping your body face-first into your pillow, “This is why I have trust issues. Never speaking to Jungwon ever again. Ever.”

“Mmhm. Sure you aren’t,” Jake hums, poking your cheek. “Anyway. Sit up.”

You let out a long whine into your pillow, kicking your feet in protest, “Whyyyyy—”

“Because I made you breakfast.”

Your head jerks up from the pillow.

You crack one eye open.

And sure enough, right there on your nightstand—

An entire set up you didn’t notice before.

A perfect omelette—with cheese and onions and ham and slightly overcooked because Jake knows you won’t have it any other way.

Next to it, a small bowl of chopped fruit, a glass of ice water, two painkillers, and—

“Pause. Is that my iced peach latte?”

“Yup,” Jake smiles proudly, nodding as he reaches over to pass the cup to you, “70% sugar. Less ice. I bribed the barista with a 20% tip to give me a plastic straw because I know you hate the paper ones.”

You take a slow sip. Let it sink in. Then you look back at him.

“God, I love you.”

Jake watches as you flop dramatically onto your stomach again, blindly reaching out to grab a strawberry…and miserably failing.

“Baby, just sit up,” he lets out a laugh, guiding you upright with his annoyingly gentle hands, fluffing your pillow behind you to lean against the headboard. “Much better.”

You sigh, leaning against the headboard, melting into the comfort of your bed as he tucks the blanket perfectly around your legs, “I don’t deserve this.”

Jake snorts, leaning in to place a soft kiss to your temple, “You deserve everything.”

Once you’re settled in your place, you look down and—

Wait.

You blink.

Once. Then twice.

Your (read: Jake’s) favorite hoodie is draped over your body instead of last night’s party dress. Your hands reach up to your face and—it’s clean. Your makeup is already off. And your hair? Well, god forbid it’s still messy after your slumber, but it’s not a bird’s nest. Which means—

“Did you…like. Take care of me last night?”

Jake lets out a chuckle as he feeds you a piece of omelette, “What else am I supposed to do? Let you drool all over your pillow with mascara smudged up to your forehead?”

You choke on the mouthful of food, “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, oh my god is right—” Jake just snickers, remembering the vivid memories from the night before. “You’re lucky I love you, because last night you were literally the most annoying drunk in existence—”

“HEY—”

“—you made Sunghoon hold your heels while you piggybacked Jay—”

“Oh, that’s actually kinda funny—”

“—then you cried because you saw a billboard of a puppy adoption center and wanted to pet the dog on the poster—”

“...Okay, fine, that one sounds accurate—”

“—and then, my personal favorite, you demanded I play with your hair and sing you songs until you fell asleep.”

You pause.

Jake is full-on grinning now, smile wide and full of endearment as he’s clearly reveling in the way your cheeks turn pink.

“I hate you,” you mumble before opening your mouth to let him feed you another bite.

Jake chuckles, feeding you another spoon before nudging you over so he can slide under the blanket next to you, “You love me.”

You huff dramatically, your cheeks warm as you drop your head onto his shoulder, “Unfortunately.”

Jake presses another kiss into your hair—warm and soft and so, so clearly smitten.

“And fortunately for you, I accept all forms of Y/N, including this spoiled gremlin princess version of you.”

You roll your eyes, but cuddle in closer, his arm wrapping around your waist naturally.

He grabs another strawberry and lifts it to your lips, “Say ahh.”

You snort, but open up anyways, accepting it at this point.

“I should drink more often if this is the treatment I get.”

Jake faces you with a look of fond exasperation, “You mean the pretty privilege?”

“Yup,” you flash him a smug grin, nudging his shoulder. “You’re really gonna let me get away with everything forever because I’m cute, huh?”

“Yes,” he says. Instantly. Without blinking.

“Even when I cry over billboard dogs?”

“Especially when you cry over billboard dogs.”

You grin wider.

“Sounds like a you problem. I almost feel sorry.”

Jake smirks, cutting another bite and feeding it to you, “Sounds like a me win.”

And honestly?

With him holding you close, spoon-feeding your breakfast, brushing your hair out of your face—

You’d believe it too.

Because, maybe your hangover is hell.

And maybe you’ll never speak to Jungwon ever again.

But being Jake’s spoiled little gremlin princess?

Yeah.

That’s definitely your prettiest privilege.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Sugar, Spice, And Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to move to Nevarro to open a bakery the last thing you expected was to fall in love with a grumpy Mandalorian. Takes place following Season 3, after Din moved to Nevarro and has been living there with Grogu. This is just a collection of one-shots that all take place in the same world. Listed in Chronological Order!

Tropes: Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Bakery AU, Soft Reader! Grumpy vs. Sunshine

Warnings: Individual warnings will be in issued in each chapter. The reader is not described any way, but is soft. Din is a little OOC. Please be gentle this is the first time that I've ever written for him.

Where'd You Come From?: An adorable customer wanders into your bakery and introduces you to someone you've never met, who piques your curiosity.

What Is This Feeling?: Din can't seem to stop running in to you, and he can't figure out why he likes it.

Didn’t Anyone Warn You?: When you're tasked with bringing pastries to Parent's Night at the local school, a guest appearance makes quite a stir.

What Did I Say? : A trip to the market takes a turn for the worst when you run into a bounty hunter that doesn't take no for an answer.

What Did I Do?: When your brother drops in for a surprise visit, it has an odd effect on Din that you can't understand.

He's Your What?: When you finally get the courage to confront Din, you find him in a vulnerable position.

What Are We Doing? : Moving is hard, but being in love with your roommate is even harder.

Why Did You Lie?: All you want is for Din to tell you what you mean to him, but your brother and his best friend have other plans.

Last Updated On: 07/15/2025

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @scoliobean @pressedwater @littlebear423 @bookloverkat

@scorpio-echo @windsweptarmadillo @foxin5billion @silas-aeiou

@mezzprior @st0nedbitch @elita1 @aegoniipascal @tiedyedghoulette

@flowerydindjarin @carolineesnell @cl0udl3ss-sky

@dotyoureyez @sunflowerfive @fefa-la-printcessa @sonthingwithl

@heartfluttered @alastorfang

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the Sugar, Spice, And Starlight Universe, please let me know :)

(Photos On Mood Board From Pinterest)

[stylesispunk]

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

Joel Miller xf!reader

part one | next part

chapter summary: After getting back his memories, Joel and you slipped away again.

word count: 15,3k (yes, it's longer than the first chapter)

warnings: angst, perhaps fluff, mentions of death, mentions of blood, and more angst, you will find out why Joel is mean in this chapter. I know I'm a teacher, but I didn't proofread, so I apologize for any mistake. paragraphs in italics indicate flashbacks.

a/n: Hello! The awaited part 2 of this story is here! I want to say thank you for the amount of love the previous part received, it was so nice to see all your reactions to this one! It was also my first fic reaching 1k> in less than a week and was overwhelming (positively). THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART, so stay tuned for the next! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! happy reading and PLEASE tell me what you think. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

For a mere second of time, wanting was enough for you. In a harsh reality where a tender love couldn’t be part of the writing pages of a tragedy that had changed the plans destiny had for humanity, even a simple glimpse of a spark was enough to initiate the fire.

Finding a reason to wake up was enough. Joel was enough for you, even when it was a path with not a clear ending.

A lie.

A maim affair engulfed in fire burning your lungs.

A tragedy.

You looked up from your work as you sensed people entering at the place, your eyes meeting Joel’s for the first time. His expression was hard, his eyes narrowed as he sized you up. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with a guarded look that made you feel like you were being evaluated.

“Can I help you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady under his intense gaze.

“She needs that looked at,” he said, his tone brusque as he gestured to Ellie’s arm.

You nodded, motioning for Ellie to sit down. As you began to clean the wound, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you, watching your every move. It was as if he was waiting for you to make a mistake, to prove that you didn’t belong there.

“So, you’re infamous nurse” Joel said after a moment, his voice still cool and distant.

You looked up from your work, meeting Joel’s eyes briefly before returning your focus to Ellie’s wound. His words hung in the air, a subtle challenge beneath the surface.

“Infamous?” you repeated, trying to keep your tone neutral. “I didn’t know I had a reputation.”

Joel shrugged, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. “Small town. People talk.”

You nodded, understanding that this was as much about sizing you up as it was about Ellie’s injury. You’d heard about Joel—everyone in Jackson had. He was a protector, a survivor, and not someone who trusted easily.

“I’m just here to help,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you wrapped Ellie’s arm with a bandage. “That’s all.”

Ellie, sensing the tension, glanced between the two of you, her eyes wide. “She’s okay, Joel,” she said, trying to ease the atmosphere. “It’s just a scratch.”

Joel didn’t respond to Ellie; his focus remained on you. There was something in his eyes—a guardedness, a wariness that told you he was waiting for you to prove yourself, or perhaps waiting for you to slip up.

“I’ve been in Jackson for a few days” you continued, finishing up with Ellie’s bandage. “Just trying to do my part.”

“Everyone’s got a part to play,” Joel said, his tone still clipped. “Just make sure you know yours.”

You felt the sting of his words but didn’t let it show. Instead, you nodded, stepping back as Ellie hopped off the table.

“Thanks,” Ellie said, giving you a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, managing a smile in return.

Joel pushed off the wall, his eyes still on you as he motioned for Ellie to follow him. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice softening slightly when he spoke to her.

As they walked towards the door, Joel paused for a brief moment, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turned back, his eyes meeting yours once more. There was something in his gaze, something more than just suspicion. It was as if he was searching for something in you, trying to read who you really were beneath the surface.

For a second, the hardened lines of his face softened, but just as quickly, the guarded expression returned. Without another word, he turned away and led Ellie out of the infirmary, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud.

You felt like breathing again.

By the moment you had reached your house, the sun had barely risen, casting a pale light over the quiet settlement. A few people were starting their duties as you walked with dried tears on your face, just wanting not to be perceive and being able to take a shower and follow your routine as you always used to die it since your arrival, but the ache was bigger than your wiliness and you ended up lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, the horror on Joel’s face kept replaying in your mind. The heartbreak was raw and overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, let alone face the day.

You didn’t even notice you had fallen sleep until a knock came at your door, it took a moment for you to register the sound. You dragged yourself out of bed, wiping at your newly fresh tears from your eyes and trying to compose yourself as best as you could.

Opening the door, you found Maria standing there, her expression concerned.  “Hey,” she said softly, her eyes scanning your face. “Ramirez told me you didn’t show up at the infirmary this morning. Thought I’d check on you.”

You forced a weak smile, stepping aside to let her in. “Thanks, Maria. I just... fell asleep”

Maria nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. She glanced around, taking in the disarray before turning back to you. “You don’t look like you’ve slept much.”

“I had a pretty good sleep” you said, voice breaking at how you so could still picturing Joel’s eyes looking at you with adoration last night “But morning came” you said, voice breaking “Joel got his memory back.”

Maria's eyes widened with concern and understanding. She moved closer, gently placing a hand on your arm. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again. "He doesn't remember loving me, Maria. He thinks I took advantage of him. He hates me."

Maria's expression softened, and she pulled you into a comforting hug. "I can't imagine how painful that must be for you. But you didn't take advantage of him. You both shared something real, even if he doesn't remember it now."

You clung to her, "I don't know what to do. I feel so lost right now."

Maria pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Take it one step at a time. Give yourself permission to feel what you're feeling. And remember, you have people here who care about you. You don't have to go through this alone."

You nodded, trying to find some comfort in her words. "Thanks, Maria. I just... I don't know how to face him now."

Maria squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You don't have to figure it all out today. Take some time for yourself. Maybe stay away from the infirmary for a today? give yourself a break."

You sighed, feeling lost. "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea."

Maria smiled softly. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You're stronger than you think, and you have a lot of people who care about you."

You managed a small smile. "Thanks.”

She nodded, giving you another comforting squeeze before standing up. "I'll check in on you later, alright? And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

As she left, you felt a small sense of humiliation, as if what had just happened was just a small piece of gossip to feed a community.

You stare at the wall for a minute, getting your stuff together. If you could get over what happened before arriving to Jackson, you could follow your life. That’s what you were making yourself believe.

So, you changed into new clothes, placing Joel’s shirt under your bed to not having sight of it again. And with a deep breath you left your house, walking to de infirmary to get your job done.

A broken heart wasn’t really a big issue in an already broken world.  

As you walked to the infirmary, the weight of the morning's events lingered in your chest. The usual bustle of the settlement seemed distant, like a muted backdrop to your internal turmoil. Every step felt heavy, but you kept moving, determined to focus on your responsibilities and find some semblance of normalcy.

Upon arriving at the infirmary, you were greeted by the familiar soft hum of activity. People glanced at you with curiosity, but no one asked any questions. You were grateful for their unspoken understanding, and you quickly immersed yourself in your tasks, finding solace in the routine.

Hours passed in a blur of tending to some Jackson residents, organizing supplies, and ensuring everything was in order. The work kept your mind occupied, though it couldn't completely drown out the ache in your heart.

As the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Maria standing there, her expression gentle yet firm.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft but steady. "How are you holding up?"

You managed a small, tired smile. "I'm getting by. Staying busy helps."

Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. "I'm glad you're here. I just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything."

You shook your head. "I don’t want to talk. It’s over” you said, avoiding her gaze.

She placed a reassuring hand on your arm. "I know you said you don't want to talk, but I'm here if you change your mind," she said softly. "Sometimes it helps to just let it out."

You looked at her, the pain still fresh in your eyes. "Thanks, Maria. Maybe... maybe later. I just need some time now."

She nodded, respecting your need for space. "Take all the time you need. Just remember, we're here for you."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, a bit of rage simmered.

“You all were the ones who told me to go for it. You told me Joel was in love for me and him recovering his memory wouldn’t break what was there, but this morning he treated me like a whore and broke my heart.”

Maria's eyes filled with sympathy and regret. "I know, and I'm so sorry for what you're going through. We all believed it would be different. Joel... he's complicated. The things he's been through have left deep scars. But that doesn't excuse how he treated you."

You took a shaky breath, the pain still fresh and raw. "I just don't understand how it could change so quickly. One moment, we were so happy, and the next... he hates me."

Maria reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "Joel's been through a lot, and sometimes people lash out when they're scared or confused. But that doesn't make it any easier for you. You deserve better than that."

You nodded, tears welling up again. "I just wanted to be happy. I thought we could be happy together."

Maria's grip tightened slightly, a gesture of support. "You will be happy again. It might not feel like it now, but you will. You're strong, and you have people who care about you. We'll get through this together."

Maria gave your arm one last reassuring squeeze before stepping back. You watched her leave, feeling of sorrow. The pain was still there, but you knew it would take time, but you also knew you wouldn't have to face it alone.

Later that evening, the emotional turmoil still roiling within you, you decided to head to the bar. You hoped the familiar atmosphere and a drink might help numb the pain, even if just for a little while. As you pushed open the door, the hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air, a stark contrast to the quiet despair you felt inside.

You made your way to the bar, trying to avoid looking around too much, but it was impossible not to notice Joel sitting at a table in the corner. His arm was wrapped around Lori, and they were laughing together, looking every bit like a happy couple. The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, the wound from the morning’s confrontation ripping open all over again.

Taking a deep breath, you walked up to the bar and ordered a drink, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you waited, Rick, the bartender, sensing your mood offered a small smile.

“What’s wrong with your face, darling?” he asked, concerned on his eyes.

You graced him with a small, tired smile at the question. “Just a rough day,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded understandingly, setting your drink in front of you. “Well, here’s something to help take the edge off. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the drink. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, momentarily dulling the pain.

As you sat there, trying to lose yourself in the comforting anonymity of the bar, you couldn’t help but glance back at Joel and Lori. Their laughter and closeness were a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt. You turned away quickly, not wanting to see any more.

“Is it Joel?” Rick asked gently, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down.

He sighed sympathetically, shaking his head. “Love can be a real mess sometimes.”

You chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

The bartender gave you a knowing look. “It’ll get better, you know. It might not seem like it now, but time has a way of healing these things.”

You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. “I hope so.”

“If you need anything, just ask me, okay?” he said, smiling at you before going back to his task.

You took another sip of your drink, hoping he was right. “I hope so.”

You nodded, trying to muster a smile in return. As the Rick moved away, you felt the weight of the day pressing down on you again. Lost in thought, you barely noticed the person sitting next to you until you felt their presence.

Turning slightly, you saw Joel, his expression unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of emotions surging through you, all the pain, anger, and a lingering trace of love.

Perhaps he was here to apologize.

Joel cleared his throat, looking almost as uncomfortable as you felt. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. “Hey,” you replied, your voice strained.

Joel shifted in his seat, glancing at the drink in front of you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much more. The sight of him so close, the contrast memories of his tender touch last night and the harsh words from the morning still fresh, made it hard to breathe.

He took a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Look, about this morning…I was asking myself if I should let my door open tonight for you to come in the lure or something?”

The laugh he made after that cracked your already broken heart. The sound was harsh, cruel, and it cut through you like a knife. Your eyes widened in disbelief, and you felt your entire body tense.

“You think this is funny?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with hurt and anger. “You think what happened between us is something to joke about?”

Joel’s laughter died on his lips as he saw the hurt and anger in your eyes. “I- “

“What did you mean? you interrupted, your voice rising despite your efforts to keep it steady. “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re entertaining yourself by making jokes right now.”

Joel's face twisted into a bitter expression. “What do you expect me to say? That I suddenly remember everything and I'm head over heels for you? Life doesn't work that way, princess”

Your heart sank further, the cruelty of his words stinging more than you wanted “You don’t have to be cruel to be funny, Joel. You could at least try to understand what I’m going through.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms defensively. “Understand what? That you’re upset because you tried to rewrite a history that doesn’t exist between us? I’m sorry, but I can’t change how I feel—or don’t feel.”

You shook your head, feeling an anger bubbling within you. “You don’t get it.” You said, simply. Taking a seat on the stool, again.

Joel’s expression hardened. “You’re too busy living in a fantasy to see that whatever you think happened between us is over. I don’t remember it, and I don’t care to. Move on.”

You looked at him, fighting the tears. “I will move on from you. You’re not that important.” You looked towards the direction he had come from, not breaking the façade. You immediately spotted Lori who seemed amused at Joels treating you badly. “Go back to your woman, Miller”

Joel’s jaw tightened at your words, and he leaned in closer, his voice low and laced with anger. “You know what? I will. At least she knows where we stand. Unlike you, clinging to some fantasy that never existed.”

Your vision blurred with anger and hurt as you stared at him. “You really think you’re better than me.”

He smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. “I’m done with your drama.”

The words hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you balled your hand into a fist and swung at him. The punch landed squarely on his jaw, causing him to stagger back, a look of shock and pain flashing across his face.

The bar fell silent as everyone turned to witness the commotion. Joel touched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, anger and something else—something more vulnerable—flickering in his gaze.

“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again” you spat, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “You are the worst mistake I’ve done here.”

Joel's eyes blazed with a mix of anger and shock, but he didn’t say anything. You could see his jaw clenching, and the vulnerability in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened look. The silence in the bar was deafening, every eye on you.

You didn’t wait for his response. You turned on your heel and marched towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of your emotions threatened to overwhelm you, but you refused to let Joel see you break down.

As you pushed the door open, the cool night air hit your face, offering a small respite from the intensity of the bar. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. You wiped them away angrily, not wanting to show any more weakness.

As you stormed out into the night, the tears mingling with the cool air, you heard the door swing open behind you. Heavy footsteps quickly followed, and you knew who it was before you even turned around.

"Hey," Tommy called out, his voice filled with concern. "Wait up."

You spun around to face him, your anger and hurt bubbling over. "What do you want, Tommy?" you snapped, your voice trembling with emotion. "Did you come to see the fallout of your brother's words?"

Tommy stopped a few feet away, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I came to check on you," he said softly. "I saw what happened in there. Are you okay?"

You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and broken. "Do I look okay to you, Tommy? Your brother just ripped my dignity there?”

Tommy's eyes were filled with sympathy. "I know Joel can be a real asshole sometimes. But he's just confused. This whole memory thing has messed with his head."

You shook your head, the tears streaming down your face. "No, Tommy. This isn't his memory. He doesn't care about me. He never did. He never will”

Tommy took a step closer, his expression pained. "That's not true. I know my brother, and I know he cared about you. He's just scared. He doesn't know how to handle this."

You scoffed, the anger boiling over. “Care about me?” you laughed. “He was just dumfounded. What you saw inside is the real him.”

Tommy's face twisted with concern, his eyes pleading for you to understand. “Look, I know it seems like that right now, but Joel’s been through a lot. This memory thing has him all messed up.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling. “No, Tommy. You didn’t hear the things he said. He thinks I took advantage of him. He doesn’t remember any of the good times, any of the moments we shared. He just sees me as some... some opportunist.”

Tommy sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say. Joel’s always been stubborn, and this whole situation is making it worse. But you’re not alone in this. We all care about you.”

“Caring about me doesn't fix what he did," you said, your voice breaking. "He treated me like I was nothing.”

“I get it. I really do,” Tommy replied, his voice softening. “Just... give it time. Maybe things will get clearer.”

“Time won’t change what he said. It won’t change how he made me feel,” you replied, the bitterness in your voice evident.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, realizing there were no words that could ease your pain. He took a step back, giving you space. “I’m here if you need me. Just remember that.”

“I don’t need the baby miller protecting me.” You spoke. “From now on, I’m just the nurse and if you need me patrolling, I don’t want Joel near me.”

Tommy's face fell slightly, but he nodded, understanding the gravity of your words. "Alright. I'll make sure to arrange things so you don't have to cross paths with him."

You could see the concern in his eyes, but you didn't have the energy to address it. "Thank you," you said, your voice hollow. "I need to be alone now."

Tommy hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Take care of yourself, alright?" He turned and walked back towards the bar, leaving you standing alone in the quiet night.

As you watched him go, you felt a mixture of relief and sadness. The night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort.

Turning away from the bar, you started walking, not sure where you were heading but knowing you needed to move. Each step felt heavy, but you forced yourself to keep going. You would find a way to heal, even if it felt impossible right now.

One step at a time, you told yourself again. One step at a time.

Week one.

You had promised yourself to not having. And Joel had had started to have punctuating headaches.

When he arrived, he noticed another guy standing where you used to be. The unfamiliar face caught him off guard, and a sense of unease settled in his stomach.

"Where's the nurse?" Joel asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The new guy, a young man with sandy hair and a nervous demeanor, looked up from his preparations. "She asked to be reassigned. Said she didn't want to do patrols anymore."

Joel's heart sank. "Did she say why?"

Before the guy could answer, Tommy walked over, overhearing the conversation. "I'll take it from here," Tommy said, looking at the new guy, who nodded and walked away.

Joel turned to Tommy, his expression a mix of confusion and worry. "What's going on, Tommy? Why'd she ask to be reassigned?"

Tommy sighed, crossing his arms. "She didn't want to be around you, Joel.”

Joel felt a pang of guilt and frustration. "I didn't mean for things to get this bad. I was just... I was trying to deal with everything, I think I handled it wrong."

Tommy nodded. "Yeah, you did. And now she’s moving on as you asked her to.”

Joel's chest tightened at Tommy's words. "I didn't think she'd actually was…I- I thought she’d... I don’t know, understand.”

"Understand what, Joel?" Tommy asked, his tone sharper than usual. "That you were scared and hurt, so you took it out on her? You made your bed, now you’ve gotta lie in it."

Joel ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his mistakes. “Okay what’s so wrong? Since when she is in love with me?”

“Did you know she was the one who brought you back here when you feel and hit your head so hard you forgot about her? Or about all this past year?” Tommy said exasperated, “She was there for you every single day and man, she was scared of letting you in because she knew all this was going to happen.”

Joel's mind reeled as Tommy's words sank in. "She brought me back?" he echoed, a wave of guilt washing over him.

"Yeah," Tommy said, his voice heavy with frustration. "She did everything for you. Every single day. And you just pushed her away like she meant nothing."

Joel felt his heart constrict. He had been so consumed by his own confusion and pain that he hadn’t stopped to consider what she had gone through. "I didn't know. I didn't remember."

"That’s the point, Joel. You didn't remember, and instead of trying to understand, you lashed out at her."

Joel nodded slowly, trying to absorb the pieces of new information.

"You can't just fix this with a few words, Joel.” Tommy added, as if he had just read his brother’s mine. “She had gone through much already.”

“What do you mean by that?” Joel asked, concern came from nowhere.

Tommy sighed deeply, looking away for a moment before meeting Joel's gaze again. "She went through hell before she even got here, Joel.”

Tommy’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Joel's brow furrowed as he tried to grasp what his brother was saying.

"What do you mean?" Joel asked, his voice low and hesitant, the concern now unmistakable.

Tommy looked at him for a long moment, as if debating whether to reveal something he wasn’t sure Joel was ready to hear. Finally, he sighed, his expression softening with a mix of empathy and frustration.

"She was on her own for a long time before she found Jackson," Tommy began, his tone measured. "Lost her family, everyone she ever cared about. Saw things that would break most people. But she survived. She made it here, and despite everything, she decided to stay and help us. She didn’t have to, but she did. And when you came back hurt and lost, she put everything into helping you, even though she knew it was a risk."

Joel felt a lump forming in his throat as Tommy spoke. He had been so wrapped up in his own struggles that he hadn’t seen the depth of what she had endured.

"And you," Tommy continued, his voice thick with emotion, "you were her last straw, Joel. She let her guard down for you, and you crushed her.

Joel’s heart ached at Tommy’s words. He felt the sting of regret deep in his chest, knowing that he had only added to her pain.

"Tommy, I..." Joel started, but the words failed him. What could he say that would make any of this right?

"You need to understand something, Joel," Tommy said, his voice firm but not unkind. "She’s not just some woman who’s here to patch us up and send us on our way. She’s a survivor, just like us. And she deserves a hell of a lot better than what you gave her."

Joel nodded, feeling the full weight of his actions pressing down on him. He realized now just how much he had taken for granted, how much he had failed to see.

That same afternoon, the weight of his guilt and determination pressing heavily on his chest, Joel made his way to the infirmary. He had rehearsed what he would say a hundred times in his head, but the closer he got, the more uncertain he felt. He needed to talk to you, to apologize, to start making things right.

When he arrived, he hesitated at the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. The familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of activity greeted him as he stepped inside.

You were at the far end of the room, organizing supplies and preparing to leave for the day. Your back was turned to him, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure of how to start. But then you sensed his presence and turned around, your eyes meeting his.

For a brief second, something flickered in your gaze—recognition, maybe even surprise—but it was quickly replaced by a cold, distant expression.

"Hey," Joel said, his voice sounding more tentative than he intended.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you continued with what you were doing, organizing a stack of medical supplies. It was clear you were trying to keep busy, to avoid engaging with him.

"Can we talk?" Joel asked, taking a cautious step closer.

You paused, your hands stilling for a moment before you turned to face him fully. Your expression was unreadable, your eyes guarded. "I'm busy, Joel," you said, your tone clipped and distant.

Joel felt a pang in his chest at your coldness, but he knew he deserved it. "I know. I just... I wanted to apologize. For everything. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry."

You looked at him for a long moment, your expression hard. "I don’t need your apologies," you replied, your voice steady but laced with an edge of bitterness. "What’s done is done."

Joel swallowed, feeling the sting of your words. "I understand that, but I still want to make things right. I want to try."

You shook your head, a small, bitter smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You can’t just fix this with a few words, Joel. You made it clear how you felt. I was so pathetic for seeking tender love in a world like this, and I was so pathetic for accepting it from you."

Joel flinched at your words, the harsh truth of them cutting deep. He opened his mouth to respond, to say something—anything—that might reach you, but you were already moving past him, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.

"Wait," he said, reaching out to stop you, but you brushed past him without a second glance.

"I’m done with this conversation, Joel," you said over your shoulder, your voice cold and final. "If you have something to say, save it for someone who cares or maybe for when you fuck Lori.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, his heart pounding in his chest as he replayed the conversation in his head. The way you looked at him—so detached, so unlike the sweet person you were—shattered any remaining hope he had of mending things between you. Joel clenched his fists frustration welling up inside him.

And with that, you were gone, leaving Joel standing in the infirmary, the empty room echoing with the silence of everything left unsaid.

Week two.

The distance between you and Joel grew even wider. You kept yourself busy with your duties at the infirmary, throwing yourself into work to avoid thinking about him. Jackson was large enough that it wasn’t hard to avoid each other, especially since you made a point to steer clear of any places where you might run into him.

Joel, on the other hand, wasn’t faring as well. The days felt like they were dragging on, each one heavier than the last. The guilt and the lingering regret of how things had ended between you, was starting to take a toll on him. He found it harder to concentrate on anything, his mind constantly wandering back to you, replaying your last conversation over and over again.

Things hadn’t started bad between the both of you. There was a time, not too long ago, when things between you and Joel had been different—better. When you first arrived in Jackson. He was wary, of course, just as everyone. People with big walls up for protecting the same from the dangers from the outside.

Initially, he had kept his distance, observing you with a cautious eye. But as days turned into weeks, something shifted. You’d taken on the role of a nurse with a quiet determination, and your compassion and dedication gradually began to break through the walls Joel had built around himself.

There was one particular evening when you both found yourselves at a small community gathering. It was one of those special moments for people to unwind and reconnect. Joel, usually reserved and gruff, had shown up with Ellie in tow, and you were surprised to find him engaging in casual conversation, a rare sight indeed.

You and Joel had ended up chatting while sitting around a makeshift bonfire. The conversation had started with practical matters—how best to handle a certain type of injury or a recommendation for new supplies—but soon it evolved into more personal topics. Joel had shared stories from his past life, and you found yourself opening up about your own one.

The old versions of two people trapped in the endless tragedy

The atmosphere was relaxed, and for the first time, you saw a different side of Joel.

Joel was seated across from you, a relaxed look on his face that you rarely saw. His eyes, usually so guarded, were softer tonight. Ellie was nearby, occupied with a makeshift game she’d crafted from scavenged materials.

“So, you actually went through all that trouble for a single, mediocre meal?” you asked, chuckling at Joel’s tale of a particularly botched cooking attempt.

Joel grinned, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his face. “You’d be surprised what we went through to get even a half-decent meal back then. We were pretty desperate.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t imagine. I’m just grateful for what we’ve got now, even if it’s not gourmet.”

Joel nodded in agreement. “Yeah, things are better here. A lot better than they were.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. You glanced at Joel, noticing how his eyes softened as he spoke. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have someone who understands what it’s like out there.”

Joel met your gaze, his expression sincere. “And I’m glad you’re here too. You’ve done a lot for everyone. For Ellie, especially.”

For Joel, dealing with all of this started to become unbearable the moment migraines hit. They had started as a dull ache, a constant pressure in his head that he could push through if he focused hard enough. But as the days went on, the pain intensified, becoming sharp and unrelenting. The pounding in his skull would come in waves, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He tried to hide it at first, not wanting anyone to see him weak, but it wasn’t long before people began to notice.

He’d find himself gripping the edges of tables or leaning against walls to steady himself, his vision blurring as the pain surged through him. He hadn’t had migraines like this in years, not since the early days when the world had first gone to hell. But these were different, more intense, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow connected to something else.

Maybe someone, his thoughts screamed.

Tommy noticed too, of course. He had been keeping a close eye on his brother ever since the confrontation in the infirmary, and it didn’t take long for him to realize that something was wrong.

Joel had just returned from patrol; his face pale and his movements unsteady. As he walked through the door of the house, he winced, his hand pressing against his temple. The migraine had hit him hard, and he was struggling to keep it together.

Tommy was already in the kitchen, grabbing a drink when he noticed Joel’s distress. He set the cup down, crossing the room quickly. “You okay, Joel?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Joel tried to force a casual shrug, but the pain in his head made it difficult. “Yeah, just—” He hesitated, trying to find a plausible excuse. “—just got a bit of a headache. My new patrol partner’s been causing me more stress than usual. You know how it is.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Your new partner? We’ve only had him for a few days. Doesn’t seem like he’d cause this much trouble.”

Joel rubbed his temples more vigorously, trying to stave off the waves of pain. “It’s been rougher than I expected, okay? Just one of those days.”

Tommy didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push the issue further. “Alright, if you say so. But if this keeps up, you should get it checked out. Don’t let it go too long.”

Joel nodded, grateful for Tommy’s concern but unwilling to admit the full extent of his struggle. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to rest.”

Joel couldn’t even convince himself. He just didn’t find strength to face you.

That evening, the bar was lively, filled with the hum of conversation and laughter. Joel sat at a corner table with Lori, Tommy, and Maria. He was trying to focus on the conversation, but the throbbing pain in his head made it difficult. Lori, noticing his discomfort, kept a concerned eye on him, occasionally reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly.

As you walked in, the bar’s ambient noise seemed to momentarily quieten, and Joel’s gaze instinctively shifted toward you. You moved with purpose, but your demeanor was cold and distant. Tommy and Maria spotted you first and greeted you warmly.

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” Tommy said, waving you over.

Maria offered a friendly smile. “Yeah, come join us.”

You returned their greetings with a nod, but when your eyes met Joel’s, you turned your attention elsewhere, ignoring him completely. Joel shifted in his seat, trying to hide his discomfort, but the strain was visible in the tense lines of his face.

Lori noticed the awkwardness and frowned. “You could at least hide you jealously and stop being a mean bitch” she said to you, loud enough for everyone around to shut.

The bar’s noise seemed to drop as Lori's words cut through the air. You felt every eye on you as the tension escalated.

You turned to Lori, your face hardening. “I’m not here to entertain you or play nice.”

Lori’s face flushed with anger. “Well, if you can’t be civil, then maybe you shouldn’t be here at all.”

Joel, trying to defuse the situation, interjected, “Lori, that’s enough.” His voice was strained, both from the growing migraine and the emotional weight of the confrontation. “We don’t need to make this any worse.”

“No! I’m tired of this bitch being a pain to us just because you don’t love her back” she continued, calling you out.

Joel’s face tightened with a mix of frustration and pain. “Lori, seriously, stop. This isn’t helping anyone.”

You stood tall, your voice icy as you spoke. “I don’t need a lecture from you or anyone else. I’ve been nothing but professional, and this—” you gestured between yourself and Joel, “—is a personal matter. I’m done being the target of everyone’s frustration.”

Joel’s gaze wavered, his eyes reflecting the hurt from your words. “You don’t have to be like this.”

“No,” you snapped, “I don’t have to be here at all. If you want to know why I’m acting this way, it’s because I don’t want to be around someone who can’t see my worth.” Your voice cracked with emotion. “You can keep Joel. I don’t want a man who can’t appreciate me.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. “I’m so done with all your pity because the man I’m in love with doesn’t remember loving me. But life moves on, and so do I. I’m done being the center of anyone’s misplaced sympathy.” You sighed a little, embarrassment creeping up your body “I’m just- I want you all to stop talking about me as if I’m a broken little girl, please.”

With a final, resolute glance at the group and the rest of people inside, you turned and walked out of the bar. The door swung shut behind you, the muffled noise of the bar fading as you stepped into the night.

Joel froze there, the harsh sting of your words lingering.

The man I’m in love with.

Why did you even love him?

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest as he processed your words. The sting of your rejection mixed with the searing pain in his head, making it hard to think clearly. He stood frozen for a moment, watching you leave, his mind racing with regret and confusion.

After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his daze. He could feel Lori’s eyes on him, her frustration still palpable. Ignoring her, Joel pushed himself up from the barstool, his movements tense and hurried.

“Sorry, I need to go,” he muttered, his voice rough and distant. He didn’t wait for a response and headed for the door. As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, offering a brief reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of the bar.

Joel saw you standing just outside the bar, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The cool night air seemed to accentuate the solitude you radiated, and the flickering streetlight cast uneven shadows over your face. Joel’s heart ached as he approached, the intensity of his migraine fading into the background compared to the weight of his regret.

He stopped a few feet away, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Hey," he said, his voice rough but gentle. "I didn't mean to... to make things worse tonight."

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. They were red-rimmed, a sign of the emotional toll the evening had taken. "What do you want, Joel?" Your voice was quiet but edged with defiance.

Joel shifted uncomfortably, the words coming out in a rush. "I know I screwed up. I know I can’t undo what’s been done. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. I was a damn fool, and I didn’t see how much you were hurting."

You shook your head, looking away. "It’s too late for apologies. You made your choices."

“I know,” Joel admitted, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“Go back inside to your woman” you said, voice steady yet the truth of the words cut your throat.

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with an aching with regret and yearning. He could feel the pounding in his head lessen, as if your presence, though tense and fraught with pain, was soothing the storm within him.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I don't want to go back inside. I came out here to talk to you. I need to explain—"

You cut him off, your voice colder now. "I don’t want explanations, Joel. I want you to be honest with yourself and with me."

Joel's expression faltered, his usual resolve wavering under the weight of his migraine and the emotional strain. "I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly. "Every time I try to make things right, I just seem to make it worse."

"Look," Joel said, taking a step closer, though he kept a respectful distance. "I know I can’t fix everything right now, and I know I’ve hurt you more than I ever intended. But if there's any chance at all to mend things, I want to try. I need to try."

You glanced at him, feeling the strange mix of emotions. His presence, his apology, even his struggle, created a confusing pull. You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Just... take things slow," you said finally, your voice softening slightly. "Show me, don’t just tell me."

You gave him one last, lingering look before turning away, the night air feeling strangely lighter as you walked back toward your house. Joel watched you go, a fragile sense of relief mingled with the lingering weight of his migraine.

Joel nodded, his heart aching.

Week three

The situation between you and Joel remained tense and unresolved. Despite the brief moment outside the bar, there was still an emotional chasm between you two. Meanwhile, Joel's migraines continued to worsen, each one more debilitating than the last. The pain had become a constant companion, gnawing at him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Tommy had been watching his brother closely, his concern growing with each passing day. He had noticed how Joel winced at the slightest noise, how he gripped the edges of tables to steady himself, and how he often retreated to dark corners to try and alleviate the pain. Tommy knew something had to give, and he wasn't sure how much longer Joel could keep this up, especially with patrols still on the agenda.

During the morning, as the patrol assignments were being handed out, Tommy pulled Joel aside. “You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “These migraines… they’re getting worse, Joel.”

Joel nodded, though the movement sent a sharp pain through his temples. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, not wanting to admit how bad things had really gotten. “Just need to keep moving, keep my mind off it.”

Tommy sighed, not entirely convinced. “Alright, but I’m pairing you up with someone who won’t hesitate to call for backup if things go south.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, wondering who Tommy had in mind. His answer came when you walked into the room, your expression unreadable as you glanced at Tommy, then at Joel.

“You’re on patrol with Joel today,” Tommy said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “Consider it part of the consequences for that little outburst at the bar the other night.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but then closed it, seemingly deciding against saying anything. Instead, you simply nodded, surprising both Tommy and Joel.

Due to your situation with Joel, you would have argued, pushed back, but you didn’t. Whether it was out of a sense of duty, or because you had your own reasons for going along with the assignment, neither man could tell.

Joel looked at you, his expression hard to read. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew that this patrol was going to be anything but ordinary. The tension between you two was palpable, and the fact that you hadn’t fought the assignment left him uneasy.

As the two of you geared up and headed out, the silence between you was thick, neither of you willing to break it first. The path ahead was familiar, but the atmosphere was charged with unresolved emotions and the weight of things left unsaid.

As you and Joel prepared to head out for patrol, Tommy pulled you aside, his expression serious. “Listen, I know things are tense between you two, but if Joel starts feeling bad, you come back immediately. No heroics, no pushing through it. Understood?”

You nodded, not meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Understood,” you replied, your tone neutral. The truth was, you didn’t know how you felt about being on patrol with Joel, but you weren’t going to argue with Tommy’s orders.

Tommy looked at you for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but he held back. Instead, he just gave you a small nod before turning back to Joel, who was adjusting his gear a few feet away.

Joel caught Tommy’s eye, and there was a silent exchange between the brothers—Tommy’s concern evident, and Joel’s stubborn determination clear.

Once outside the gates, the silence stretched between you and Joel, heavy and uncomfortable. The forest around you was quiet, the only sound was the crunch of your boots on the dirt path. You kept your eyes ahead, focused on the task at hand, but you couldn’t help but be aware of Joel’s presence beside you.

As you walked, you noticed something strange. Joel, who had been rubbing his temples and wincing in pain earlier, seemed to be a bit more at ease. The tight lines of pain on his face had softened, and he wasn’t clutching his head like he usually did.

You didn’t want to think too much about it, but you couldn’t help but wonder if your presence had something to do with it.

Joel, too, was aware of the change. He had been bracing himself for another wave of pain, expecting the migraine to hit hard as it had been for days now. But instead, he felt… better. The pain was still there, lurking in the background, but it was muted, manageable. And the only thing that had changed was that you were with him.

As you continued walking, the strange shift in the atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed. Joel glanced at you every now and then, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he was trying to figure out what had changed. You kept your focus straight ahead, but the weight of the unspoken tension between you two was hard to ignore.

After a while, you slowed down and finally came to a stop, gesturing for Joel to halt as well. Without saying anything, you walked over to your horse and untied a small bouquet of flowers that had been carefully wrapped and secured to the saddle.

Joel watched, puzzled, as you held the bouquet tightly in your hand. "Just... just wait for me here for a bit," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. There was a softness to your tone that caught Joel off guard, and he nodded, sensing that whatever you were about to do was important.

You walked a short distance off the path, through the dense trees and underbrush, until you reached a small clearing. The air was still, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

Joel stayed where he was, leaning against his horse, but his eyes followed you, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression.

In the clearing, you knelt down beside a small, unmarked grave, the earth slightly raised from where you had buried your boyfriend two years ago.

You placed the bouquet gently on the grave, your fingers lingering for a moment on the petals. Your heart ached with the familiar pang of loss, the pain of carrying love for someone who was no longer here. It was a pain you had learned to carry with you, but it never really went away.

As you knelt there, a few silent tears slipped down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. This was a private moment, one you hadn’t shared with anyone, not even Joel. He had no idea about the depth of your loss, about the man you had loved and lost before arriving in Jackson.

When you finally stood up and turned back toward the path, Joel was still waiting, his expression unreadable. You walked back to him in silence, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft as his eyes studied your expression.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers brushing lightly against your jacket. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is where I buried him. My fiancé."

Joel’s heart sank as he remembered the voice of Tommy telling him some things he didn’t even remember about you. And now seeing you here, in this quiet, sacred place, made the weight of your grief all the more real.

"I didn’t know," Joel said, his voice laced with regret. He felt a pang of guilt for not being there for you when you had gone through this, for not understanding just how much you had carried with you all this time. "I’m sorry."

You nodded slowly, still staring at the grave. "It’s been a long time since I’ve come here. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it, but… I guess I needed to say goodbye again. Properly."

Joel stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth at your side. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to be there, to offer whatever solace he could.

"He was a good man," you continued, your voice stronger now. "He was kind, patient, everything I could have asked for. But this world… it takes everything good and leaves you with nothing but memories."

Joel clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar ache of loss that never truly went away. He knew all too well the pain of losing someone you loved, the emptiness that followed, the way it changed you forever.

"He deserved better," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "He deserved a future, a life. But instead… he got this."

Joel rested his hand gently on your shoulder. "I’m sorry," he repeated, the words feeling inadequate but all he could offer.

But instead of finding solace in his touch, you flinched, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. The grief, the anger, the overwhelming sense of loss—it all came flooding back, and you couldn’t handle it, not right now.

“Don’t touch me, okay?” you said, your voice trembling as you pulled away from him, putting a small but significant distance between you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you needed space, needed to breathe without feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of your emotions.

Joel froze, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, the rejection hitting him harder than he expected. He swallowed, trying to push down the rising tide of guilt and pain that your words had stirred up.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew better than to push, knew that you needed time to process everything on your own. But it didn’t stop the sting of your words from cutting deep, reminding him of all the ways he had failed before, all the ways he had let the people he cared about slip through his fingers.

“Peter was the only man who deserved my love,” you said, your voice laced with a mix of bitterness and sorrow. The truth of it stung, cutting through the air like a blade. You didn’t mean to be cruel, but the words slipped out before you could stop them, a reflection of the turmoil swirling inside you.

Joel swallowed hard, the hurt in his eyes evident as he processed what you had just said. He knew you were grieving, that you were speaking from a place of pain, but it didn’t make the words any easier to hear. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond, his mind reeling from the sudden shift between you.

“I get it,” he finally said, his voice tight with emotion. “You loved him. And he was… he was a good man. Better than me.”

He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, feeling the weight of his own inadequacies bearing down on him.

 “Yes, he was” you said without a doubt. “And that killed him.”

Joel’s heart clenched at your words, the blunt truth of them landing like a blow. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, the weight of your statement pressing down on him. The silence between you grew thicker, charged with the grief and anger that neither of you could fully express.

“He and I had a kid” you confessed, you heart clenched at the memory of that little boy you took care of for five years of your life.

Joel’s head snapped up at your confession, his eyes widening in shock. The weight of what you had just revealed hit him hard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“He and I… we had a kid,” you repeated, your voice trembling as you forced the words out. Your heart ached at the memory of the little boy you had taken care of, loved, for five years of your life. The pain of losing him, of losing the family you had built, was still fresh, a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal.

Joel’s expression softened, the anger and frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface giving way to something deeper—compassion, understanding, and an overwhelming sense of sorrow for everything you had lost. He could see the pain etched into your features, the way your shoulders slumped under the weight of your grief, and it broke something inside him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t know what else to say.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, not wanting to break down in front of him. “His name was Sam,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was just a baby when we found him, abandoned… we took him in, raised him as our own. And then, one day” you sobbed, “They killed him…Those fucking soldiers killed him.”

“Peter and I had planned on how leaving all behind, he had hear about Jackson from a friend, and then he trusted the wrong people.”

Joel’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to you, the horror and anguish in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He could see the pain etched deeply into your features, the way your body trembled with the force of your grief. The image of what you had endured—losing not just your partner but the child you had raised together, taken away in such a cruel and senseless way—was almost too much to bear.

“They killed him,” you repeated, your voice thick with emotion as tears streamed down your face. “They took everything from me… from us. We just wanted to be safe, to give him a life that meant something. But those soldiers… they didn’t care. They saw us as a threat, as nothing more than collateral damage.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, anger surging through him at the thought of what had been done to you and your family. He knew the kind of world you were living in, where trust was a dangerous thing, and hope could be ripped away in an instant. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“I’m so sorry,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He wanted to say more, to find the right words to ease your pain, but everything felt inadequate in the face of such a profound loss.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you continued. “Peter and I… we had it all planned out. We were going to leave everything behind, start over in Jackson. He had heard about it from a friend, and it seemed like the only chance we had. But… he trusted the wrong people.”

Your voice broke again, the sobs coming harder now as you relived the nightmare. “They promised us safe passage, said they’d get us out. But it was a trap. They turned us over to the soldiers, and Sam… he didn’t stand a chance. He was just a little boy. He didn’t even know what was happening…”

Joel felt a lump in his throat, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he watched you unravel before him.

Without thinking, Joel stepped closer, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly against him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to offer empty words of consolation. He just held you, letting you cry against his chest, his hand gently stroking your back in an attempt to soothe you.

The world had gone eerily quiet after the gunfire ceased, the only sounds left were your ragged breaths and the distant cries of crows circling overhead. You could still feel the heat from Peter’s body fading beneath your hands, his blood soaking into the earth beneath him. The image of his lifeless eyes, staring blankly up at the sky, was seared into your mind, a horrific reminder that he was gone, that the man you loved, the father of your child, was never coming back.

You had been too stunned to cry, too numb to feel anything beyond the cold realization that you were alone.

Hours seemed to pass in a blur before you finally forced yourself to move. You couldn’t stay there, not with Peter’s body cooling beside you, not with the knowledge that those men might come back to finish what they started. So, you rose on shaky legs, your heart pounding in your chest, and stumbled away from the scene of the massacre, your mind numb as you left him behind.

The sun had begun to set by the time you found the old cabin, hidden deep within the woods. It was small, decrepit, with broken windows and a door that hung askew on its hinges, but it was shelter, and that was all that mattered. You pushed open the door and stepped inside, the musty smell of decay filling your nostrils as you surveyed the dark, empty space.

It felt wrong to be alive, to still be breathing when Peter wasn’t, when Sam wasn’t. But survival was instinctual, and something inside you kept pushing you forward, kept you searching for a way to stay alive, even when all you wanted was to curl up and disappear.

You sank to the floor, your back pressed against the rough wooden wall as the tears finally began to fall. They came slowly at first, like a trickle, but soon they turned into gut-wrenching sobs that echoed through the empty cabin. You clutched your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as the storm outside began to roll in.

The wind picked up, howling through the trees and rattling the cabin’s fragile walls. Rain began to pour in heavy sheets, drumming against the roof and leaking through the cracks, pooling on the floor around you. Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark interior in brief, blinding bursts, and the thunder that followed was so loud it shook the very foundation of the cabin.

You were alone for the first time in years, truly, devastatingly alone. The weight of that realization crushed you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think of anything other than the emptiness that stretched out before you. The storm outside mirrored the chaos inside you, the violence of it a reflection of the torment that raged in your heart.

Maria and a group of people found you two days later

And you had become terrified of storms ever since.  

You stiffened in Joel’s arms, the overwhelming flood of emotions too much. You couldn’t let yourself be comforted, couldn’t let someone else get close, not after everything you’d lost. The fear of opening up, of allowing yourself to be vulnerable again, was suffocating.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you stepped back, pulling away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Joel’s arms fell to his sides, the rejection clear in his eyes as he took a step back, giving you the space you needed. The hurt in his expression was evident, but he didn’t push, didn’t try to reach out for you again.

“You just feel pity because you see me as a broken doll” you said.

Joel’s expression tightened, his brow furrowing as your words cut through the air like a knife. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, clearly struggling with how to convey what he was feeling. The accusation hung between you, heavy and bitter, and the silence that followed felt suffocating.

“I don’t—” Joel started, his voice low and rough. He took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t see you that way.”

“Then why are you here, Joel?” you demanded, your voice rising with the pent-up frustration and pain. “Why are you trying so hard to be… whatever this is? You didn’t care before, but now you do because I’m broken?”

“How were you so sweet to everyone after what happened?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and a hint of disbelief. It was as if he couldn’t comprehend how you managed to keep going, how you could still find kindness within you after everything you’d endured.

You looked at him, your expression softened by the lingering sadness, but there was a strength behind your eyes, a resilience that had kept you moving forward. “Because I didn’t lose them because of you all,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the pain that laced your words. “I wasn’t going to become angry at the people who gave me another chance.”

The truth of your statement hung in the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You had chosen to protect the small bit of humanity you had left, to hold onto the kindness that others had shown you when you needed it most. But that didn’t mean the anger, the grief, or the pain had disappeared—it was still there, buried deep, threatening to consume you if you let it.

Joel looked down, his shoulders sagging slightly as he absorbed what you said. He understood the weight of guilt, the way it could twist inside you, making you question everything. He had carried his own burden of guilt for years, but hearing you speak those words, seeing the strength it took for you to hold onto the good in the face of so much loss, it humbled him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words barely above a whisper. “I wish I could take it all back, change what happened. What I did to you and how I treated you the morning you woke up in my bed” he sighed, “Sorry for not remember what happened between us”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a quiet, resigned sadness. “It doesn’t change anything, Joel. It’s done. I can’t change the past either.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of your words settling heavily on him. The finality in your voice, the distance between you, made him feel even more lost, and he turned away, the ache of regret and loss deepening with each step he took.

Joel walked away, his steps heavy and deliberate. The weight of your words hung over him, a constant reminder of the things he couldn’t change, the pain he had caused. Each step felt like a step further from any hope of repairing what had been broken.

You watched him go, the solitude of the moment pressing in around you. The quiet was suffocating, filled with the echoes of the past and the weight of unspoken words. You turned back toward the grave, the memories of what you had lost mingling with the present pain.

A simple affair, torturing you.

+

Grieving the death and grieving the living were taking a tool on you.

Week four

A week had passed since that tense confrontation. The days had been a blur of activity and emotional exhaustion, the storm within you a constant companion. The quiet conversations with others and the daily routines in Jackson offered little distraction from the lingering sadness, but they kept you moving forward, one step at a time.

Everyone could say than a simply affair would dissipate with the time, that each week would make you unlove Joel, but you couldn’t take a complete distance from your lingering feelings.

And Joel? Joel had kept his distance, following your request for space. His presence was felt in the background, a reminder of the unresolved tension and the feelings that had been left hanging in the air. You had seen him around, in passing, but there was an unspoken agreement that he would not intrude upon your space.

He couldn’t bear to face you.

One morning, as you prepared for another day at the infirmary due to Tommy’s request, you found yourself in the familiar surroundings of the clinic. The routine was a small comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions. The soft hum of medical equipment and the scent of antiseptic filled the air, offering a sense of order and control.

As you were organizing supplies and checking on your patients, a familiar voice broke through the calm. “Hey.”

You looked up from your tasks to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of hesitation and resolve. He seemed slightly out of place in the clinical setting, but there was a determined look in his eyes.

“Joel,” you greeted, your voice steady but tinged with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Joel took a step inside, his gaze scanning the room before settling on you.

“I’ve been trying to find the right time to give this to you,” Joel said, his voice a bit rough, as if he was struggling to find the right words.

Curiosity mingled with the apprehension you felt. “What is it?”

Joel took a deep breath, stepping closer but still maintaining a respectful distance. “It’s a little something I thought might help. I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I wanted to offer it to you anyway.”

You hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the package from him. It was small and wrapped simply, the gesture surprisingly thoughtful given the circumstances. You carefully unwrapped it, revealing a worn leather-bound journal. The cover was embossed with a delicate pattern, and as you opened it, you found pages filled with blank lines, waiting for your thoughts and feelings.

“You can write on it,” Joel said softly. “And I thought maybe, if you wanted to, this could be a place for you to put everything that’s been on your mind. It’s not much, but I thought it might help.”

The gesture was unexpected, and as you looked up at Joel, you could see the genuine care in his eyes. It was a small attempt to bridge the gap between you, to offer something meaningful despite the unresolved pain.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice almost choked with emotion. “It’s… thoughtful.”

Joel nodded, a small, almost relieved smile touching his lips. “I hope it helps, even just a little.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the weight of the past week settling in the air. Joel’s eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of the connection that had once been there, while you felt the tug of conflicting emotions—appreciation for the gesture, but also the lingering pain of his actions.

“How are your migraines doing?” You asked.

Joel looked slightly taken aback by your question, the personal nature of it a stark contrast to the more distant conversation that had been unfolding. He studied your face for a moment, perhaps surprised by your concern.

“They’re getting worse every day,” he admitted, his voice carrying a weight of weariness. “But today, I’m feeling a bit better. It’s been rough, though. The migraines have been relentless.”

You felt a rush of blood to your cheeks, concern and embarrassment at the question. “Tommy mentioned it,” you said quickly, wanting to clarify your source of information. “I just—well, I wanted to know how you’re doing.”

Joel nodded, his eyes softening slightly. “Thanks for asking. It means a lot. It’s been tough, but I’m managing.”

The vulnerability in his admission made you feel a pang of empathy. It was hard to see him struggling, especially when you had your own unresolved feelings and painful memories.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having a better moment today,” you said, your voice steadying as you tried to offer some comfort.

Joel’s expression grew more thoughtful, and he gave a small, appreciative smile. “Yeah, I’m holding onto that. Thanks for checking in.”

The silence between you was charged with unspoken emotions. You both stood there, the weight of your recent conversations lingering in the air. Joel looked like he was about to say something else, but instead, he gave a nod and started to walk away.

“Take care,” you called after him, the words carrying a genuine warmth despite the emotional distance that remained between you.

You had settled onto a barstool, a glass of whiskey in hand. The amber liquid was smooth and comforting, its warmth spreading through you as you took a sip. The effects of the alcohol were starting to take hold, making everything feel just a little more relaxed, a little more bearable.

Joel was at the bar, nursing a drink of his own. He hadn’t been particularly social that night, just sitting in his usual spot, lost in his thoughts. As the evening wore on and you became tipsier, you found yourself drawn to him, the comfort of familiarity outweighing the shyness that normally kept you at a distance.

You slid off your stool and made your way over to Joel, the room spinning slightly as you approached him. “Hey,” you said, your voice a bit louder than intended, carrying the cheerful buzz of someone who’d had a few too many drinks. “Mind if I join you?”

Joel looked up from his glass, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Sure, have a seat,” he replied, gesturing to the empty stool next to him.

You plopped down beside him, the warmth of his presence surprisingly comforting. “You know,” you said, leaning in slightly and grinning, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here this early before. You’re usually so… serious.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound of a low rumble that was both soothing and grounding. “Yeah, I guess I am. Just needed a drink tonight.”

In the afternoon, the usually calm atmosphere of the infirmary was disrupted by the sound of the door swinging open with a sense of urgency. Joel stumbled inside, his face pale and etched with pain. He moved slowly, his usual steady gait faltering under the weight of his unbearable migraines.

You looked up from your work, your heart sinking at the sight of him. He was clearly in distress, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to shut out the world. You quickly set aside what you were doing and hurried over to him.

“What do you want?” you asked, intending to sound too rude.

“I—” Joel started, but the words were interrupted by a sharp grimace of pain. “I can’t take it anymore. The migraines… they’re just too much.”

“From one to ten? How much is the pain?” you asked.

“What’s that bullshit?” He cried out.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your own frustration in check. Despite the roughness of Joel’s response, you could see that he was in genuine distress, and you needed to get a handle on his pain level to help him effectively.

“It’s just a way to measure how bad the pain is,” you explained, your voice firm but compassionate. “On a scale from one to ten, where one is no pain and ten is the worst pain, you’ve ever felt, where are you right now?”

Joel clenched his teeth, his face twisted with agony as he tried to focus. “It’s… it’s an eight,” he finally managed to say through gritted teeth.

He had saved that ten.

 The ten was the amount of pain he had when he lost Sarah.

A ten was the pain his heart felt when he looked at you from the distance.

You nodded, quickly assessing the situation. “Alright, I’m going to get you something stronger for the pain. Try to sit down and breathe slowly. I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to prepare a stronger medication, you felt the weight of the past few weeks pressing heavily on you. The bitterness in your words and his pain seemed to intertwine, creating a tense atmosphere that was hard to ignore. But your focus remained on getting Joel the relief he needed.

You quickly gathered the necessary medication and made your way back to Joel, who had seated himself on one of the examination tables. As you approached, you noticed his breathing was uneven, and his eyes were squeezed shut as if he was trying to block out the pain and your presence.

"Let me check your head," you said softly, your voice gentle despite the tension that hung between you. "I need to make sure there's nothing else going on."

Joel nodded slightly, his face still contorted in discomfort. As you leaned in to examine his head, your proximity made his breath catch in his lungs. The closeness between you seemed to amplify the charged atmosphere, making the air around you feel heavy.

You carefully placed your hands on his temples, your touch light but firm as you assessed his condition. Joel's breath became shallow and uneven, a sign that he was acutely aware of your closeness. He tensed under your touch, the intensity of his pain mixed with the vulnerability of the moment.

"How's that feel?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you moved your fingers over his forehead and the sides of his head.

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes still closed as he tried to focus on your touch rather than the pain. "Feels… a bit better," he managed to say, though his voice was strained. "Just… don’t know if I can handle this much longer."

You gave a reassuring nod, trying to offer comfort despite the lingering tension. "You're doing great. The medication should help soon. Just hang in there a little longer."

You both could feel your breathing mingling together, the agony of the closeness taking everything from you.

Joel closed his eyes for a bit, feeling you scent and your fingertips on his temples. In the haze of his agony, there were fleeting glimpses of a night that felt both distant and achingly familiar. He remembered the warmth of your touch, the softness of your lips against his. The kiss you had shared the night before he got his memory back began to resurface, bringing with it a surge of emotions he had long tried to bury.

The kiss had been tender. Joel could almost feel the echo of that moment now, a soft, lingering taste of intimacy that was both comforting and heartbreaking.

He remembered the way you had looked at him, the way your eyes had softened with unspoken words. The image of your face, so close to his, the way you had smiled before the kiss, replayed in his mind with a clarity that cut through the pain. It was as if your closeness was pulling these memories to the surface, forcing him to confront them once more.

Joel’s breath caught as he recalled the warmth of your lips, the way it had felt to hold you close. It was a vivid contrast to the overwhelming pain he was experiencing now, and it made him realize just how much he had missed and lost. The memory of that kiss, the feeling of being connected to you, made his heart ache with a mix of longing and regret.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to ground himself in the present while the memories swirled around him. As much as the past few weeks had been a struggle, this moment of closeness with you was stirring up feelings he had tried to keep buried. Joel’s eyes opened slightly, looking at you with a vulnerability that he hadn’t shown before.

“Sun…” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

The sound of "Sun" coming from his lips felt almost foreign, yet deeply familiar. It was a term of endearment he had used before his memory loss, one that had held a special place between you two.

“Sun…” he repeated, the word carrying tenderness and longing.

Your heart skipped a beat, the nickname a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared. It was a small yet significant piece of the past surfacing, offering a glimmer of connection despite everything that had happened.

You felt a rush of conflicting emotions, the glimmer of hope mingling with a deep-seated fear of revisiting old wounds. The nickname, the touch, the faint echo of past affection—it all stirred up feelings you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

Taking a steadying breath, you stepped back, your hand moving quickly to hand him the medication. “Here,” you said, your voice steady as you handed him the small packet of pills. “This should help with the pain. You should head home and rest.”

Joel looked up at you, a flicker of understanding and disappointment in his eyes. He could sense the shift in your demeanor, the way you were putting distance between you both. “You sure you don’t need any help?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “No, I’m fine. Just… please, go home. A storm is coming, and you should get back before it hits.”

Joel hesitated for a moment longer, but the look in your eyes told him that you needed space, that pushing further would only cause more pain. With a reluctant nod, he took the medication and turned to leave, his steps heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid.

As he walked out of the infirmary, you watched him go, the storm outside a stark parallel to the storm brewing inside you. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The fleeting connection, the memories stirred up—it was all too much to handle right now.

You were a bit tipsy, the effects of the whiskey making your steps a little unsteady. Joel walked beside you, his presence a steady anchor amidst the haze of your inebriation. You were both quiet, the conversation from the bar having dwindled into comfortable silence.

As you approached your house, you turned to him, a small, tipsy smile playing on your lips. The intimacy of the evening and the warmth of his proximity were too comforting to ignore. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. The action was impulsive, driven by a mix of affection and the blurred boundaries of alcohol.

Joel's reaction was immediate. He responded to the kiss, his arms finding their way around you as he deepened the connection. There was a brief moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, the kiss a sweet and tender promise of something more.

When you finally pulled back, your faces were flushed, and you looked at him with a mixture of uncertainty and contentment. Joel’s eyes were filled with a mix of surprise and warmth, the kiss having ignited something within him that he hadn’t anticipated.

“Good night, Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft and slightly slurred as you turned to go inside.

Joel watched you enter your house, his thoughts swirling in the wake of the kiss. He felt a strange blend of hope and confusion, uncertain about what the kiss meant for both of you. But the feelings were there, undeniable and strong.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow in your bedroom. You woke up with a throbbing headache, the remnants of last night a blurry haze. As you shuffled through your routine, the details of the previous evening remained frustratingly out of reach. The bar, the tipsy laughter, Joel walking you home—these were fragments, but the kiss itself was a complete blank.

When you encountered Joel later that day, you greeted him cheerfully, assuming nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Hey, Joel. How’s it going?”

Joel’s response was curt, his eyes avoiding yours. “Hey. I’m alright.”

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, the coldness in his tone. It was as if he was keeping you at arm's length, his usual warmth replaced with a frigid distance. You tried to brush it off, attributing it to a possible bad mood or personal issue.

Joel had resolved never to bring up the kiss, his feelings of hurt and confusion simmering beneath the surface. He’d come to see the incident as a miscommunication, a misunderstanding that he’d decided to keep buried rather than confront. The bitterness of feeling forgotten and dismissed had solidified into a quiet, unspoken rift between you.

Joel found himself unable to shake the feeling of the day's events. The migraine had ebbed slightly during the patrol, but as soon as he was back in his house, the pain returned, gnawing at him with a persistent, dull ache.

The house was quiet, save for the steady patter of rain against the windows. The storm outside was fierce, the wind howling and the rain pouring down in relentless sheets. Joel’s mood matched the tempest outside—stormy, unsettled.

As he was trying to organize his gear and get ready for bed, his eyes fell upon something on a chair near the door. It was the blouse you had lost that morning when he pushed you away from him, a soft, familiar fabric that he recognized immediately. He picked it up, holding it gently, and his mind replayed that morning events.

Joel held the blouse up to his face, breathing in deeply. The scent was faint but unmistakable—a mix of the outdoors, a hint of your perfume, and something more personal, something that reminded him of you. As the scent reached his senses, it hit him with a wave of emotions he hadn’t fully processed until now. He felt a rush of regret and longing. The migraine that had been a constant presence in his head now seemed to fade slightly as he held the blouse. The emotional weight of his actions, the pain he had caused you, and the gulf that had grown between you all came rushing back

You sat in the dimly lit living room of your small house, wrapped in a blanket, trying to find some semblance of comfort amidst the chaos outside. The storm had intensified, the wind howling and the rain slashing against the windows with a ferocity that made the walls tremble. Every rumble of thunder and flash of lightning felt like a jolt to your already frayed nerves.

You tried to focus on something—anything—to distract yourself from the fear that had settled deep in your chest. The living room was sparsely decorated, the bare walls and simple furnishings reflecting the practical, no-frills life you had tried to build for yourself. But tonight, it all seemed cold and empty, unable to offer you the comfort you so desperately needed.

You glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight, and sleep was elusive. The noise of the storm outside seemed to drown out any thoughts of rest. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to stave off the chill that had little to do with the temperature and everything to do with the lonely feeling that had enveloped you.

As you huddled on the couch, the flashes of lightning illuminated the room in brief, stark bursts. Each flash cast eerie shadows on the walls, making the storm outside feel even more menacing. You found yourself jumping at every crack of thunder, your heart racing with each one.

Part of you wanted to reach out to someone, but who? The distance between you and Joel felt insurmountable, and you had made it clear that you wanted to be left alone.

The living room was filled with the sound of the storm, punctuated only by your occasional sighs and the rustling of the blanket around you. You tried to focus on breathing deeply, calming yourself in the midst of the chaos. But as the storm raged on, so did the turmoil within you.

It was during a particularly intense flash of lightning that you heard a knock on the door. Your heart leaped into your throat, and you froze. Another knock, louder this time, followed by a faint call. “It’s Joel. Can I come in?”

The voice was muffled by the storm, but it was unmistakable. Your emotions were a whirlwind of confusion and surprise. You hesitated, wondering why he would come here, why he would seek you out now, but the desperation in his voice made you move towards the door.

You opened it cautiously, the cold wind rushing in and mingling with the warmth of the living room. Joel stood there, drenched from the rain, his face lined with worry and a mixture of other emotions that you couldn’t quite place.

“Joel,” you said, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at you with an expression that was a mix of regret, concern, and something softer that you couldn’t quite define.

Words weren’t need for moments like these. Two hearts beating as the silence felt like freedom of the remised prisoner love victim of the passage of time, the destiny or perhaps the fate of cursing spells.

It was there for you to see it and it was there for him to see it, but blindness was his curse. Not remembering was his curse. Joel wasn’t incapable of loving someone, but he was terrified of the pieces of the old him coming to the present where losing people was a daily occurrence.

Joel was terrified of loving and losing the last flame of goodness left in this mad world that had tainted people, but you. There was a pure innocence in your eyes, in your actions and in your kindness and he had come to face his old him through you, the old him that had died with his daughter years ago.

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes reflecting the soft light from the flickering candles. His voice was a murmur, almost lost in the howling of the storm outside. “You’re afraid of storms.”, he said quietly, his voice low and gentle. It wasn’t a question. He was stating a fact, something you had confessed to him when the love affair between you was burning. 

You looked at him, the realization dawning on you like the slow break of dawn. “You remember.” You whispered.

And you could only hear the steady beat of your own heart and the sound of Joel’s breathing.

I tagged everyone interested in part 2 but I couldn't tag everyone because all got mixed () if you don't want to be tagged you can tell me, if you want to be tagged, you can also tell me

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

@riedswifts @dizzyforyou @prideandaesthetic @chateaujoon

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

@missladym1981

[misotsukiiyeooo]

No Kisses?

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol xF! Reader

A/N: Honestly, I just need Seuncheol...

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 4.3k

Synopsis: Seungcheol attempts to deny your kisses, but not for too long.

You were on your period, and feeling emotional, which led to some unnecessary bickering with Seungcheol. He didn't appreciate the attitude you were giving him, and as the days passed, you brushed the entire incident aside as if it had never occurred.

Your constant mood swings during that week pushed Seungcheol to his limit, prompting him to declare a "kissing strike." You simply assumed he was being dramatic. However, now that your period has ended, you’re looking for Seungcheol to cuddle with you.

You find him sitting on the couch in the living room. Before you can step closer, he lifts a finger, stopping you in your tracks. "Don't come here, Y/n. I told you, no kisses and cuddles for a whole week!" His tone is firm, yet there’s a hint of playful frustration lurking beneath.

You take a step closer to him, testing the waters to see if he’s genuinely serious about this rule. "Oh, come on… a week is too long!" you pout at him.

Seungcheol crosses his arms tightly over his chest and turns his head away from you, still upset. "A week is not enough for the way you acted last week."

Realizing that he is indeed serious, you plop down next to him on the couch. He scoots away from you just a bit, arms still crossed. "Stop sitting next to me; I'm still upset."

"My baby, Cheollie, I'm sorry, okay?" you say, softening your tone and patiently waiting for a reaction. He tries to hide his smile after hearing his nickname.

"I get that you're sorry," he replies, still trying to maintain his serious demeanor, "but I still have to teach you a lesson."

Feeling bold, you respond, "You can’t stay mad at me for too long… you love me too much for that." You give him a playful, teasing smile, knowing deep down that he can’t resist for long.

He rolls his eyes dramatically but finally turns to look at you. "That's not the point. I'm still going to be mad at you for a week," he insists, though you can see the corners of his mouth twitching up.

You gently cup his cheeks in your hands, maintaining eye contact as you say, "I am sorry, you know." Your sincerity hangs in the air between you.

He lets out a heavy sigh, still avoiding your gaze. "I know, but I still need some time to forgive you," he admits, his tone softening just a fraction.

With a playful grin, you propose, "Fine, how about we make it a day? Not a whole week, hmm?" You keep your hands on his face. He pretends to think for a moment before sighing in defeat once more.

"A day… but only because you look so cute right now," he concedes, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

Seizing the moment, you lean in and peck his lips, completely forgetting the "rules" he just laid out. "A day it is!" you declare triumphantly.

But as soon as you back away, he sulks cutely, shaking his head. "I said no kisses for a day…"

You pause, realization dawning on you. "Oh right, oops," you reply, grinning widely.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Seungcheol says, arching an eyebrow at you, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Doing what?" You grin, pretending to be oblivious to your actions.

He scoffs, "Acting all cute so I won't stay mad at you…"

Your eyes widen in mock shock. "Me, acting cute?" The corners of your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. He rolls his eyes dramatically before reaching for your waist and effortlessly pulling you onto his lap. "Yes, you; and you know it," he replies.

You tease him, "I thought you said no cuddles?"

In response, Seungcheol wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. He burrows his face into the crook of your neck. "I changed my mind."

"That fast?" You giggle, earning a nod against your neck. His grip on you tightens. "I can't resist you when you're being cute like this," he murmurs.

You wrap your arms around his neck. "I knew you couldn't," you reply, teasing evident in your voice.

He pouts, pulling away slightly to face you. "Yeah, yeah. But next time you’re on your…" He trails off. "You know, can you try your absolute best not to start arguments with me?"

You smile at his cuteness. "Yes, of course. I’ll try my absolute best!" You echo his words with a small laugh.

"Good…" he says, and with that, he kisses your lips before leaning back in, nuzzling his face into your neck once more, enveloping you in warmth and comfort as he holds you close.

Taglist!!

@jjunie-0 @minminghao @black-swan-blog27 @cherrylvrr @honglynights @allieyaaa @bath1lda @hanniehae-yoon

[mxyarylla]

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥

Neuvillette fluff, established relationship, neuvi x fem reader, NO mention of y/n! reader accidentally hurt herself

mentions of npcs in Fontaine (Officer Menthe, Arouet, melusines)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Today, the weather seemed a bit moody and you immediately thought if something had been troubling Neuvillette. You got home and placed the basket of groceries on the nearest table. You took your umbrella and rushed to Palais Mermonia. You passed by café Lutece and dropped by quickly to get some snacks.

But as you went down the stairs near the shop, you accidentally slipped and hurt your ankle. Monsieur Arouet, the shop’s owner happened to be near the area and quickly rushed to help you. “Madame! Are you alright?” he asked. You winced in pain when you tried to get up with the help of Arouet. He excused himself before helping you. You placed your hand on his arm and got up.

Officer Menthe passed by the café and saw you getting help from Arouet. “Madame!” She called out running towards you. “What happened? Are you alright? I’ll call Monsieur Neuvi-” Before she could finish her sentence, you put a hand on her head and shook your head with a reassuring smile. “There’s no need Menthe. I don’t want to cause you trouble. Look, it’s almost raining.”

Menthe’s eyes softened and she lowered her head a little. Arouet came back with the med kit. “Ah! Officer Menthe! Good timing! Could you help Madame please?” Menthe nodded and took the med kit from his hand. Menthe pressed her cute hand gently on your ankle and asked where it hurts then she applied some pain relief cream.

You sheltered at café Lutece as it started pouring. The moment your eyes left Menthe, she quickly slipped to Palais Mermonia to inform Neuvillette.

When Menthe arrived, Neuvillette’s office was filled with the Marechaussee Phantom members. Menthe notices the little frown on Neuvillette’s face. He looked unsettled. When he was about to depart and dispatch the investigation team, he saw Menthe approaching his desk.

He bent down and Menthe whispered in his ear. “Madame is hurt. She is resting at café Lutece.” Neuvillette’s ears twitched and face was mixed with all sorts of emotions. Anger, guilt and sadness. His eyebrows knitted together for a split second then changed to his normal expression after realizing there’s the members of the Marechaussee Phantom in his office.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and announced, “My apologies, it seems that something urgent came up. I cannot lead the investigation today. Sedene will lead the investigation in my stead.” The melusines stayed silent and no one dared to ask questions. Instead they all said “Have a safe trip Monsieur.”

He gave them a small smile and nodded. He rushed to the door with Menthe following shortly. On the way there, Menthe told him everything that happened and before she could notice, they were in front of her residence. “Thank you Menthe. You may rest now.” She nodded, “Thank you Monsieur. I hope Madame gets well soon.” He thanked her and left to be by your side.

While you were sitting waiting for your husband, it rained harder and it made you more worried about his feelings and well-being.

The rain made it better for Neuvillette to use his teleportation without having anyone see. A blue-like aura surrounded his body and his horns glowed and in a blink of an eye, he was in front of Café Lutece. Even though he teleported, he’s slightly soaked from the heavy rain.

His gloves were long gone, and his slender fingers made contact with your cold cheek. “I’m here my love.” he says as he knelt down in front of you. You placed your hand on top of his and leaned in his touch. It was warm. The warmth radiating from his hand warms your entire body. “Mmh, you’re here.”

Neuvillette placed his coat over your trembling body. He thanked Arouet and picked you up in bridal style and woosh you’re inside your house. Your husband took his coat off of you and replaced it with a towel. You sat on a stool in the bathroom and watched him prepare a warm bath for you. His poet shirt sleeves rolled up and hair attached in a ponytail as your husband helped clean you up.

He was tense the whole time he cleaned you. His eyebrows slightly knitted together, deep in thought you suppose. When you were finished, your husband was about to help you dress up but you ushered him to clean himself, “Love, I’m alright. You go take a bath or else you’ll get sick.”

You sat in bed waiting for your beloved husband. When he got out, he rushed to your side. His expressions from earlier seemed to dissipate after a refreshing bath. Neuvillette knelt down and inspected your ankle. “Where does it hurt my love?” he asks with a calm voice. You showed him where it hurts and he seemed to be saying something and kissed your ankle.

“You’ll recover soon, love.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[flymetothexmoon]

The Answer is You

Warning: Fluff, 10/10 would check for a cavity after reading. Sexual Innuendo's if you squint enough.

Authors Note: this is my contribution to the wonderful @moonqz4now's challenge for GD&TOP's 2010 album and I did the song Baby Good Night. Hopefully I did the song justice because I do not usually do overly sweet moments in my writing but I love the idea of Seunghyun being smitten with his partner. Enjoy~

Pairing: Choi Seunghyun xF!Reader.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚♡ɞ˚

Moments.

Moments in time, moments passing, and more importantly, moments with you were all that mattered to Seunghyun anymore.

Throughout his career, people would consistently ask what he looked for in a partner— how he would act when he knew his partner was the one, and he would always answer the same way and respond with a certain kind of confidence and mention no matter situation— he would be all in.

You and Seunghyun met quickly, and fell in love even quicker. He swore to everyone around him that he never fell for someone so fast and they believed him. You would dance when he danced, you enjoyed the same wine notes, and more importantly you loved him the exact way he wanted to be loved and left him alone when he wanted to be and spent all the time with him when he wanted you there.

Seunghyun swore from the moment he met you that he would always love you, and tonight was no exception when he watched the way your silhouette looked against his balcony, your back to him as your eyes admired the lit up city of Seoul beneath the two of you. A few years ago when he bought this penthouse, one of the biggest selling points was the privacy and the view— the view that overlooked Seoul and the Han River. Now, the only view Seunghyun cared about was you.

The night was full of people, of tourists, locals— anyone that wanted to feel the air touch their skin and all the two of you cared about was the calmness of the comfort the both of you brought one another; a constant reminder of how it felt the night he confessed to you his true feelings and intentions.

Seunghyun was always known as being careful; careful with the way he presented himself to the world, careful of the words track he spoke, careful of the people he allowed close to his heart, and most importantly— you; you were in his mind the one that needed his most protection.

Tonight was no different. The two of you were currently tangled up in one of Seunghyun's many blankets, you swore he hoarded the things, as you both listened to the soft rain hitting the glass windows of his penthouse; from the outside you looked like two fish swimming around a fish bowl but from the inside you could see what you wanted to see. The movie you were previously watching was still playing, the soft hums from the television trying to keep up with the soft hums erupting from the both of you.

The taller man pulled away from you ever so lightly, the cotton from the blanket flowing freely off his arm as the feeling of his thumb was met with the rigid most part of your jawline as you could feel the cool metal outline of his detailed ring against your skin, making you shiver in response even though your body was warm to the touch. Seunghyun was never a patient man and everyone in his life knew that about him— including you, so when you saw his eyes flutter closed and you could feel his face moving close toward to you, you knew he was about to kiss you.

This was not the first time you kissed Seunghyun, the way his lips molded to yours like he knew every curve of your mouth was an obvious indicator at that, but it was the way he would touch you while he kissed you— auulmost as if you were a canvas and his lips were the the paint brush, effortlessly taking control and leaving the person behind the brush and canvas at the mercy of a wooded applicator.

In the time it took for Seunghyun to allow his lips to leave yours, he was already leaving a trail of kisses elsewhere as you could hear the sound his lips made against the temple of your head and against the highest point of your cheek bone, and even close to your ear as he suddenly stopped and you swore the television and rain did as well, the only noise you focus on was the sound of both your breathing and you could not tell who was more nervous.

"Come closer,"

Effortlessly, your limbs did as the man said, the blanket now draping from your legs and your body did not know how to react, fhe sudden loss of comfort making you cool but then undeniable heat between you and Seunghyun was enough to ignite a campfire.

"You're so wonderful. I'll always love you, girl."

Your body moved carefully, quietly, like you had all the time in the world to be standing out there with the moon and stars; the calming scent of the night filled one of your five senses as you your eyes traveled upward, admiring everything around you. Little to your knowledge, Seunghyun was already behind you, admiring his own idea of what something beautiful was as he wrapped his arms neatly around your waist, his nose gently rubbing against the part of your spine where your hair dropped, the loose curls tickling his nose as the scent of coconut filled his senses.

"You know, the city lights are dancing down there. The way the neon bulbs will flicker whenever a tiny bug hits them just right, the electricity, it's the same sensation that humans feel when are dancing with someone we love or dreaming about something we love— you should know I am always dreaming of you."

It was hard to hide the smile that was slowly making your cheeks burst.

Humming in response, your arms continued to drape over the balcony rest in front of you as you continued to admire the city beneath you, your hips rocking backward slightly when you felt the taller man shift behind you; his arms remained tight at your waist, but you could feel him pressing into you, as if he loosened his grip on you too much, you would disappear into the night forever.

"Careful, Seunghyun. Would hate for you to get into something you could not handle,"

Your comment was playful— sassy even, with a slightly bratty undertone, but that only made the man behind you crave your touch even more. It really had not even been that long for you two, but suddenly he felt like a man deprived and a familiar tightness in his throat began to form.

"Are you questioning me princess? It's cute, really. You should know by now that I am use to everything... you— the way your lips curve right before you say something bratty..."

Seunghyun was right; he was always right. Not because he had to, or even because he wanted to, but only because his voice sounding like it was laced with pure, homegrown honey, he could tell you that a pig grew wings and was flying in the sky and you would believe him.

It was never a battle of words with you and Seunghyun, and you both used that to the advantage of your relationship, but what there was always a battle for was dominance, as your body moved carefully, your exposed back now leaning against the cool railing balcony as your eyes began to narrow, your pupils dilating at being face to face with someone you loved. The same smile tugged on your lips as your arms extended outward, lazily drapping around the neck of the man in front of you— your almond shaped nails gently tapping at the base of his neck.

"I do not think you are use to everything silly boy, I think you are just good at reading people; reading me."

Seunghyun tensed, but not in a way to show physical discomfort, as he leaned into your touch like his life depended on it and wrapped his arms around the front of your waist now— the feeling of his chest against yours and his fingers drawing little tiny shapes into the indentations of your hip bones; the way his heart's beating definitely tried to match yours.

Nerves bubbled inside of you at the contact, and it definitely did not help that his hands fingers felt so nice against you, your nails tapping gently against his neck again as you pulled him down to your level, your lips inches from his now as you watched his mouth carefully, the words leaving his mouth with ease.

"Everything is beautiful my girl. You are beautiful. It is simply the great power of love between two people."

Your own mouth opened to speak, a reply already waiting to leave your tongue, before his lips were quick to attach onto yours and marking you as his and him as yours. Seunghyun tasted like cherries with a hint of sweetened vanilla, a combo that you would associate his favorite wine with.

The heat of the kiss was alone to almost make your knees pop, but the added sensation of knowing he had just had some wine prior was an aphrodisiac on its own for you as one of your hands moved from his neck and clung to the fabric of the shirt he was wearing, scrunching the cotton tightly in the palm of your hand as the remaining fell through your fingers with ease.

Slowly, you both pulled away from another, the only sound being heard was the murmured breathes escaping your lungs. Seunghyun was breathing harder than you were and you could tell by his stained red lips and the way he locked eyes with you that he definitely enjoyed the kiss as much as you, if not— a little more honestly and your cheeks turned the same shade of red when he opened his mouth again, only this time instead of doing so to kiss you, he began to sing softly.

"You are my beautiful girl. You keep saying my heart on fire; a refreshing mint- like hit. The refreshing, mint hint, the answer is you."

Your head tilted backwards slightly, a low giggle escaping your vocal cords as you straightened up again to look at Seunghyun more carefully, your eyes starting to gloss over when you admired him— admired him for loving you, being there for you, and over all being the man he could for you and counting your lucky stars. You wanted to thank him, tell him— remind him how much you really did adore him but he only tightened his grip around you as his lips found the top of your head.

"Don't wanna say goodbye. Baby, good night."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚♡ɞ˚

Challenge Tag List: @steponupbabe @iibgdrgn @currentloser @moontabi @ikwon1c @jiyongsangel @lovemepartly @gdinthehouseee 💜

Normal Tag List: @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @mashtatosworld @aizshallnotbefound @moontabi @lexalith @wcnderlnds @ldydeath @ttt-1987s @breakmeoff @emmiesoverthemoon @cupidsonly @djarindroid @szonyix6277 @nerdydoll-com @sherrayyyyy

💌 Ask to be added 🌙

Authors Note: thank you so much for @moonqz4now for getting me out of my minor hiatus and for reaching out with the kindest words of encouragement and motivation to ask me to be apart of this challenge with some really incredible creators. I know I say say this a lot but I promise I have some stuff coming eventually along with two new challenges I will be writing for. Thank you for the continued support on this blog 🥺

[sofasoap]

Little first date

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: Johnny take his bonnie out for their first date, also meet the people who are important to his life.

Warning :T-M rating. All round fluff. talk of moments of insecurity.

Part 8 of Little Bear series

Masterlist

Should you? Or should you not? 

Picking up and putting down the piece of napkin in front of you, you keep changing your mind.

Gosh, why am I so indecisive?? Surely there is nothing to lose here. 

Other than my own pride.

You let out a desperate moan as you buried your face into the pillow. Thinking back to the night you met the Mohawk…. John MacTavish;

“No pressure bonnie.” as he grabs one of the napkins and asks for a pen from the bartender, he quickly scribbles down some numbers and a little doodle of bar of soap beside it and pushes it towards you. “Here’s my number, text me or ring me when you are ready. I’ll leave it in your hand.” 

He seems nice enough. Great sense of humour, handsome ( even with a strange mohawk. Is he trying to imitate Mr T? You wondered.) and those strong arm muscles… the slight chest hair that was peeking through the gap of his shirt when you spotted his dog tag…..

Ah stuff this. Why not? You always think you need to step out of your comfort zone. And this is another great chance to do it, isn’t it?

Making up your mind, you carefully thinking up of what to say, texted him and pressed send before your nerve got the better of you. 

You nearly jumped out of the skin when your phone went off not even a minute later after sending the text, you scramble forward to try to pick it up, nearly dropping it in the process.

“Heeellllo??” cursing yourself as your voice squeaked with nerve, you cough a bit and tried again, “Hello??”

A cheerful voice calls out your name, “I've been waiting for you!” Johnny chuckled, “So..you still keen to go out on a date with me?” 

“Um. Sure. I think so? If, if you are up for it??” you replied with uncertainty. 

And this is how you ended up at the pub, thirty minutes earlier than the agreed time, fretting all day over what you were going to wear, make up or not, should you walk? Should you call for a taxi, what should you order for food, what to talk about so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself?

This is all new to you. Never has someone asked you out before. Nor flirt with you. 

You have never gone on a date before.

“You alright there bonnie? I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.” steadying you with his strong arm, he greets you with his flashing smile. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he added softly. 

You felt a light tap on your shoulder, dragging you out from your little swirl of panic whirlpool. Turning your head over your shoulder, there you see Johnny, dressed in tight fitting jeans, simple dress shirt and dark leather jacket. 

You feel your cheek burning hot, can this guy get any more handsome?  You stood up from your stool clumsily, nearly tripping over in the process, if his reflex wasn’t quick enough to catch you. 

He waved his hands dismissively, “They are getting here a little bit later, citing not wanting to disturb our date.” Pull out the stool slightly and urge you to sit down again, “ We can worry about them later. So, what would you like to drink? Food? Any preferences?”

“You. you look. Um, very nice too.” Oh, why are you so tongue tied? Wrangling your hands together,  you quietly replied, “No, I didn’t wait too long. So, Um. Where are the others?” You half wished his friends and sister would arrive soon, so you wouldn’t have to face him alone, but the other side of you is nervous to meet a new hoard of people all in one go , and wanting to spend a bit of time with him. Ah, that conflict of mind and emotion.

Sensing your nervousness, he gently eases you into conversation by asking simple questions about yourself, hanging onto every word you say, like each of them with great importance, asking all the right questions when you mention anything that he doesn’t quite understand. 

He only started talking about himself after you are slightly relaxed enough to ask what he does during time off, his hobby ( you found out he is a huge football fan, even played as a goalkeeper in local clubs for a while until work got too busy.) his family, his younger sister Mini, who he speaks fondly of and the all sort of mischiefs they get up to when they were younger. 

You nearly choked on your beer as you laughed with all the stories. “Sounds like you two had quite an adventurous and happy childhood.” 

“Funny enough, I was the wild one when we were younger, and she was the one who had me on a leash, now it’s the total opposite.”  he chuckled. Taking a sip of the beer, you see a twinkle in his eyes, “My parents would have to rebuild the barn countless times if it wasn’t for her stopping me setting it on fire.” putting his glass down, he stares at you softly with his steel-blue eyes, “You have a beautiful laugh, bonnie. Has anyone ever told you that?”

For the second time tonight, you think your face is going to combust with all the heat creeping up towards it. Looking down at your plate of dessert, pushing the chocolate fudge around with your fork, trying to think of a reply.

Before you can come up with something, you saw a hand slapping of Johnny’s back, making him spill his drink.

“Hello! You must be the unlucky lady that has to put up with this man here, " Johnny growled as you chuckle nervously, "Kyle Garrick, but you can call me Gaz.” Holding out his hand to shake after you introduced yourself, he smirked as he point towards your date,

A dark skinned man with a wide smile appeared.

“Oy Gaz! Watch it!!” Johnny complained, but there’s a playful smile on his face. He stood up and gave the man, Gaz, a quick hug, before turning back towards you.

“You know how excited he was when he got your text and after he got off the phone with you? He was practically dancing around the office and shouting for joy. Price, our captain, had to ask Simon to restrain him.” 

“Shut ..shut up Gaz, don’t give all my secrets away…. “ Stuttering and going a bit shy, Johnny elbowed Gaz in the stomach. 

“Well, he was telling the truth.” Another voice, deep and husky, piped up. Followed by a woman’s light giggle. 

“Where is Captain?” Johnny asked. Gaz shook his head, “He had to go home. He sent his apology to you and your lovely date, saying he would meet you next time.” 

“Hi, I’m this bampot’s sister, everyone calls me Mini.” her broad smile reminds you of Johnny’s own, you can really see the family resemblance there.

The Man right beside her, who seems to have a permanent frown plastered between his brows and a black surgical mask on, quietly introduced himself as Simon was a complete opposite to the rest of the group. This must be Ghost, who Johnny previously mentioned before. He doesn’t seem like the type of person that cracks jokes? You wondered. 

Oh, there’s next time again. Everyone seems to be so confident there will be a next time!

As the evening draws to a close, you bid goodbye to the group and with promises of future meet ups, Johnny offers to walk you home. 

The rest of the evening was spent in good company. They welcome you with open arms, Gaz and Mini taking turns to spill Johnny’s secrets and embarrassing stories. Simon even cracked a joke in between.

“That means he likes you.” Johnny whispered in your ear. “He doesn’t usually talk at all in front of strangers.

Even though it’s already springtime, there was still a bit of a bite to the evening breeze. You shivered as the wind started to pick up. 

Suddenly you see a hand in front of you, you look up, Johnny offers you his hand, silently asking with his eyes. You hesitated for a split second extending your hand, with him gently wrapping it with his large, callous but warm hand. He shifted his body slightly, blocking the wind out for you. 

Two of you slowly stroll towards your flat in comfortable silence.

“Thank you for the lovely evening.” looking up at him, as two of you came to a stop in front of your place. You feel a slight emptiness in your heart, as you realise the date has come to an end. Johnny still holding your hands in his, caressing the knuckles softly with his thumbs.

“Can I kiss you, bonnie?” he whispered softly, asking for permission. 

You only snapped back into sense after he slowly broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. Sliding your hand down towards his chest, feeling his thumping heart.

You nodded your head shyly, body trembling slightly with anticipation. Bringing his hands up, he gently cups your face with his hands, leaning down, his lips hovering over yours for a few seconds, before closing the gap.

Oh, how you feel your body is going to melt into a puddle. Eyes fluttering to a close, your arms come up around his neck, pulling him down further, trying to make your body closer to his as much as possible.

“.. That was my first kiss…. “ you softly blurted out, making a confession. You don’t want this moment to end. Never have you felt such an overwhelming sense of emotion towards anyone else. Is this what falling in love feels like?

Feeling his arm around you, tightening his embrace, he took in a shaky breath before speaking.

“Well, I am very honoured to be your first.” he whispered softly into your ear. “And I hope this will be one of the many firsts that is yet to come.”

You knew you were a goner right there and then.

A/N: This actually went out a little bit longer than expected. oops. Word vomited too much sorry. was half watching Woman world cup final and half writing.

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

Tag list:

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator

@random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @roosterr @brewed-pangolin @groguspicklejar

@johfaam @alverdekote @okamimarta @thedevillovesflowers

@liyanahelena @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

[luvst4rc0r3]

JINX MASTERLIST

FLUFF

Reader defening Loser!Jinx

“Unexpected Visit”

Vi catching reader and Jinx

“You’re going to get me killed” Loser!Jinx x reader

“Wait What?” Oblivious!Jinx x f!reader

Jinx helping their S/O w/ their periods

“Tangled”

“Mistletoe Mischief”

“Sleepy Proposal”

“Smudged mascara & stolen kisses”

“Two pink lines”

"Playing Dangerous"

ANGST

“You’re Enough”

"Dollhouse"

“Homesick food”

“Why did you do that?”

PT.2

“Stay With us” XF!Reader

“ I don’t wanna be here anymore” - X pregnant!reader - PT.1

PT.2 - “Good things don’t always last forever”

"Hold Still, Please"

“Calling the only person she’ll listen to.”

“I NEED shimmer”

“Lost in translation”

“Slave” - x F!Reader

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt.3

Pt.4

Pt.5

Headcannons

Loser!Jinx x Loser!Reader

“The unexpected couple”

Loser!Jinx x reader

Clingy!Jinx x reader

Lovesick!Jinx x reader

DRABBLES

1

2

SMUT

"Hooked Like a drug" - xGN!reader

“Welcome Home” - X f!reader

Jinx x f!reader

TRUST THERE WILL BE MORE FOR HER

I WANT FOOD