#also thank you for all of the lovely encouraging notes on that post

[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT 1

simon riley / reader

FIND PART TWO || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: any triggering acts such as harassment/sa are done by a third party, not simon!!! also the sa is not vague or implied, there is a written out scene so please be mindful when you read! thank u to @allsaiint for reading over this and helping!

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

part 1: 17.8k total: 35.8k

Your muscles were stiff, thighs twitching and trembling as you laid in bed, staring at your water stained ceiling. Your chest rose and fell in time with rapid breathing. You had worn yourself out, caused a wet spot on your bed, yet you remained completely unsatisfied. Your fingers were cramped up and you let out a groan of frustration, rolling over to crawl out of bed. 

It had become a daily ritual at this point, you with your hand between your thighs, rubbing and touching, only to get into the shower completely unsatisfied and embarrassed at your own inability to get yourself off. 

People your age didn’t struggle like this, you convinced yourself.  Your cheeks burned as you stepped under the warm spray from your showerhead, the creaking pipes just background noise to you now. You were broken, that was the only explanation you could think of. 

By the time you got out of the shower and changed your sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washer, it was evening and a familiar knocking rang through your apartment.

You didn’t even have to answer it before the lock was clicking and the large form of your best friend Simon ducked in. 

“Hey, Simon!” you called cheerfully, excitedly bounding into the room and wrapping your arms around him in greeting. 

He grunted, harshly patting your back in the familiar way he always does before kicking his boots off. When he straightened up, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. 

“What's with you?” he asked, a thick, dark brow raised suspiciously. 

“Um,” you stepped back, shrugging as you tried to look nonchalant, “What do you mean?”

“You look…” his eyes raked down your body, clearly assessing you, “You look tense.”

Immediately, your cheeks erupted into flames. Your face felt so hot that you had to bring your hands up to cool them before laughing nervously, “That’s no different than usual.”

He was silent for several, long, grueling seconds before grunting and breezing past you to the kitchen, clearly letting it drop. You took a moment to catch your breath before following him, finding him hunched over looking into your barren refrigerator. 

“Where’s all your fuckin’ food?” he snapped, straightening back up with a huff when he heard you come in behind him.

“Didn’t get a chance to shop this week, Si,” you replied stiffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he demanded, slamming the appliance closed before heading to your cabinets to do inventory there too.

“Paycheck was short again this week,” you answered, speaking quietly in hopes he wouldn’t look into it anymore than that. 

He angrily slammed a cabinet closed and leaned on his palms against the counter, head hung between his shoulders, “Your boss fuckin’ stiff you again?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, Simon–” you attempted to quell him.

“Not a big deal?” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter, making you flinch at the noise. You knew Simon would never, ever hurt you but his anger was something to behold nonetheless, “It is a big deal when you can’t even afford to fuckin’ eat!”

“Simon…” you whisper, anxiously picking at a string on your cotton shorts, “I wasn’t going hungry, I have like…ramen and stuff…”

He says your name through gritted teeth, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t afford proper groceries?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it, Si,” you mutter, “I-It’s my problem, not yours.”

He gives you a long, unblinking stare. His usual soft, puppy dog brown eyes now felt intimidating. One thing about Simon was that he never hid it when he was clearly upset with you. And knowing he was right now made you hang your head pitifully.

He moves suddenly, tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a small stack of clean bills, slapping them on your countertop.

“Simon, no–” you attempt to reach out for them, willing him to take the money back.

He grabs your hand immediately, shoving the appendage away from the money, “You’ll take this and you’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some damn food or I’m going to go to the bar and wrap my fuckin’ hands around your boss’s throat until he coughs up your money.”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon!” you argue, exasperated, “Y-You don’t have to take care of me like this.”

“Yes, I fuckin’ do!” he counters, “You’re my responsibility and I’m not going to let you exist on fuckin’ cup noodles until that shithead pays you properly, not when I can take care of you. Now stop arguing and put this in your wallet now.”

He used that damn Lieutenant voice, leaving no room for argument. You bit your lip and slowly picked up the bills from the counter.

“Thank you, Simon…” you whisper, clutching the money close to your chest as you offer him a wobbly smile.

“Shut up and go,” he huffs, though his voice is much softer and affectionate now. 

You turn on your heel and go to the table by the door, slowly taking the time to place the money safely inside. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You were so, so lucky to have someone in your life that did everything in his power to take care of you, to look after you and make sure you had food on the table. No one had ever cared about your well-being the way Simon did, and your heart felt incredibly full because of it. 

You could hear him still stalking around the kitchen, grumbling to himself in annoyance. He comes out of the kitchen, phone in hand, before he’s taking a seat on your old, creaky couch. His knee is bouncing up and down in that way it always does. It’s like he’s always a live wire, ready and waiting for something to happen.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, still standing by the table.

He grunts, shaking his head, “Orderin' dinner.”

“Oh,” you mumble, “What’re you getting?”

“Gettin’ from that breakfast diner you like,” he responds quickly, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t even like that place,” you giggle, “In the mood for a breakfast sandwich?”

“Not for me,” was his clipped response.

“What?” you whine, “Simon, don’t order me food!”

“Did you eat today?” he asks quickly, placing his phone on the table, clearly done with the order.

“I had cup noodles!” you point an accusing finger at him, “So yes!”

“That’s not real food,” he leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. End of conversation. 

You sigh, shaking your head. You debate continuing to pester him about it but you hear your washing machine begin to ring the jingle signaling the cycle is finished. You cast one last, unseen glare to the man on your couch before heading to the washer, methodically taking the now clean sheets out. 

You finish placing it in the dryer and turning the machine on, stepping back into the living room when there’s a knock on the door. Simon is on his feet in seconds and at the door before you can even react. When he slams the door shut, he holds the bag of food up for you to see, dropping it on the coffee table before taking a seat again. He resumes the same position, arms cross over his chest and eyes closed. 

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, taking the empty seat beside him. He hums in response, “You want to spend the night?”

“Guess so,” he responds after a few seconds, “You work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night,” you mumble, reaching for the bag of food, untying the knot so you can get inside, “I hate working Friday nights.”

“I can stop by tomorrow if you want,” he offers, finally opening his eyes.

You think it over for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first time he sat in the bar on a busy Friday night, nursing a half-drunk bourbon, as he waited for you to get off, “I think it’ll be okay. Last week was fine.”

He simply stares at you in silence before sighing through his nose. But he doesn’t argue and you’re thankful for that. 

Simon’s been looking after you like this since you turned 18 and moved out on your own. There have been many, many days and nights that you’ve taken up his time and energy and as you grew older, you tried to do it less. He had an incredibly busy job and life and the last thing you wanted was to add weight onto his already heavy shoulders. 

The evening turned to night and before you knew it you had a full belly and leftovers to store in the fridge for breakfast. You folded your dried sheet and placed it in the hallway closet, acutely aware of the sound of Simon showering in your bathroom. 

It wasn’t a very big shower and you sometimes wondered what it looked like for him in there. Surely he had to hunch down to properly wash his hair and shoulders. But those thoughts always turned into something less than innocent. 

You imagined what he looked like, all wet. How big he surely looked in there, no doubt he would dwarf you. He would be able to easily crowd you in the corner, make it so you couldn't escape as he blocked the exit – not that you would want to escape. 

You slapped a hand against your forehead, shaking your head violently to rid yourself of those thoughts. You tugged a spare blanket out of the closet and slammed it closed, rushing to your bedroom to place it on your bed. 

Your cheeks burned with shame over having such unsavory thoughts about your best friend. As much as you liked to pretend that the crush you had on him when you were children had faded like typical puppy love, you knew your feelings were alive and well deep inside where you had pushed them when he rejected you when you were 14. 

It was just because you were so pent up, you convinced yourself, you would have those thoughts about any man that was inside your shower!

You crawled onto your side of the bed, flopping back into your pillow as you waited for him to come in. You completely ignored the throbbing between your thighs, a feeling you were more than used to by now. But your fingers itched to reach down, slip beneath the band of your shorts and touch your clit, the little bud throbbed so desperately that when you clenched your thighs together, a shiver would go down your spine. 

Just as you started to reach down, just to try and relieve the ache that settled there, the bathroom door opened. You yanked your hand back up and tried to look casual as you heard his heavy footsteps move towards the bedroom door.

He pushed the door open wider so he could come in, having to duck his head down to avoid hitting his head. He placed his towel in the laundry basket and slowly crawled into bed beside you, placing his pillow flat so he could comfortably lay down.

Some people may find it strange sleeping with him like this, but your couch was much too small for him and he would rather cut his own fingers off than make you sleep on the damned thing. It was old and so uncomfortable that it caused you to be sore if you sat on it for too long. Plus, you never felt uncomfortable having him in the bed with you like this. He was warm and safe and he always smelled like your grapefruit body wash after he showered. 

It made your heart thump in your chest, knowing he walked around the next day smelling like you. 

“Goodnight, Simon,” you mumbled, reaching over to turn your bedside lamp off.

He grunted quietly, rolling over so his back was facing you. You smiled in the dark and snuggled down into your own blanket, closing your eyes as well. 

The next morning, you woke up and the bed was empty. As usual. 

Even when he was home, Simon functioned off of the strict military schedule he’d been accustomed to for his many years in the military. You sat up and stretched your arms above your head, tossing your blanket off of you. The floor was chilly against your bare feet, making you shiver. 

After going pee, you ventured out into the living room. Simon was lounging, quietly watching TV – the morning news, it seemed.

“Good morning,” you called. 

“Eat,” was all he replied, not even breaking his gaze off of the TV.

You purse your lips but do as you’re told – not because he said so, but because your stomach was painfully growling and the breakfast sandwich in the fridge sounded delicious. 

As you heated it up in the microwave, you hummed to yourself.

“I’m going to go to the store after I eat,” you called, “Do you want to come?”

“Nah,” he grunted, “Gotta go soon.”

“Oh,” you tried to hide your disappointment, “Will you be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” he responded, your disappointment only growing at that. 

The microwave beeped and you pulled your plate of food out, bringing it back to the living room to eat it beside him. He took up an absurd amount of space given how large he was and how small your couch was – but you didn’t mind being pressed up against him. You didn’t think he minded either because he never bothered to move away. 

You quietly ate your breakfast, finishing up just as the news segment ended. Simon stood, knees popping as he did, patting his pockets to make sure he had his keys and wallet before pausing, looking around. 

“You leaving?” you ask, placing your plate on the table as you followed his lead, standing.

“Got to,” he mumbled, still glancing around, “Where’s my phone?”

“You leave it in the bedroom?” you offer.

He sighs and disappears down the hall for a split minute before returning, tucking the device into his pocket. He grabs his coat off the table by the door, slipping it on and zipping it up. You approach him by the door, watching him slip his boots on and tie them. 

“See you later, Si,” you say, trying your best to hide your disappointment at him leaving. 

You never wanted him to leave, always feeling painfully lonely without his presence in your home. Since he was gone for long periods so often, you liked to enjoy his company as much as you can when he’s home. But you would never be the type to ask him to stay when he couldn’t because you knew he would run himself ragged to keep you company even when he was exhausted and had other things to do on top of it. You never wanted to be a burden to him.

He straightens up, stomping his feet a couple times to make sure his boots were on fine. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. You wrap both arms around his middle and hug him tight.

“I’ll come by when I can,” he mutters, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone, the door slamming closed and leaving you by yourself in the doorway, already feeling an emptiness that would remain until he returned. 

Just as you promised, you went out and bought groceries, courtesy of the money Simon had so kindly given you. You made sure you had some meat, fruit, and veggies, along with some canned goods. You made sure you didn’t buy cup noodles because he certainly wouldn’t be thrilled to know you bought that since he was so vehemently against them being in your diet. 

When you got home, you put all the groceries away and quickly realized that you had some time to spare before you had to get ready for your shift at the bar. 

As you sit on the couch, mindlessly watching some random show you’ve seen a hundred times before, you suddenly realize you’re squeezing your thighs together. 

And your panties are feeling awfully sticky. 

Your body heats up as you find yourself cupping your breasts through your shirt and bra. But you quickly realize that’s doing nothing for you and you strip your shirt off, pulling the sports bra over your breasts to cup them without the fabric restriction. You sigh and relax into the couch as you pull and pinch your nipple, tugging them and rolling them beneath your fingers. Your thighs clench and rub together as you tease yourself. 

But you tire of that quickly, knowing you could do something that felt so much better. 

Your fingers tremble as you tug the button of your jeans open and kick them off, letting your panties go down with them. You take note of the fact the center is completely sticky and wet. God, how long had you been dripping into your panties like that?

You lean back on the couch, placing your feet on the cushions, letting your legs open nice and wide. Your folds flower open, embarrassingly wet and shiny. Your clit is hard and swollen between them and you can practically see the bud twitching. 

With two, shaky fingers, you reach down and swipe over the bud. Your entire body twitches at the contact and you sigh as you slowly circle it, using your own slick as lubrication. 

You bring a finger to your entrance, prodding at the stickiness there. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. Your pussy makes loud noises as you touch but it doesn’t really provide you much pleasure so you bring your finger back to your clit. 

You circle it, pinch it, and roll your fingers over it. You’re quietly moaning, lidded eyes hazy as you watch your fingers play between your thighs. It feels good, a warm feeling settling in your gut the more you touch yourself. 

But then the inevitable happens – it’s like you hit a wall. 

You whine in frustration, speeding up your movements to hopefully reach the edge that you know is right over the wall. But you don’t get any further, if anything you feel that warmth vanishing at an alarming rate. 

Tears sting your eyes, “No, no, no…” you beg no one.

You grit your teeth in frustration, yanking your hand away to watch your pussy clench and throb over nothing, drooling and dripping slick onto the couch. But you’re too frustrated to try anymore. 

You close your thighs and flop down onto the couch, letting a few tears escape.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly complain, slapping the couch out of frustration.

Your lamenting is interrupted by your phone going off. You look at it on the table and see it's the alarm you set to let you know to start getting ready. 

Great, you spent 45 minutes playing with yourself and still didn’t get any further than you had for the last 20-something years of your life. 

You were starting to think you should schedule an appointment with a doctor and find out if you were well and truly broken, but quickly decided against it. That would be fucking humiliating.

What would you say, “Hi, I can’t make myself orgasm and never have, please doctor, tell me if my vagina is broken?” Absolutely not. 

You collect your clothes from the living room floor and toss them in your laundry basket in your room before you take a very fast shower just to clean your own mess up. Then, you get dressed and ready for the shift you know is going to suck at the bar. 

At the door, you make sure you have your belongings. You turn out all your lights and lock the door behind you before setting off to the bar. 

It’s not a long walk, about 15 minutes away. But just the idea of stepping foot inside the bar fills you with dread. 

It was a little hole in the wall place, shady and seedy were the best ways to describe it. You got pretty good tips from the patrons most nights but your boss was the biggest piece of shit you’d ever had the misfortune of being in close proximity with. 

He had a very bad habit of putting his hands where they didn’t belong and cutting his employee’s pay for no reason – or reasons he completely made up. Your last paycheck was short because he claims that you ‘got enough in tips to make up the loss’ – you didn’t. And when you argued, he threatened to fire you. 

You were already living in the cheapest flat you could afford; it was run-down and poorly maintained. But it was better than not having a roof over your head. And it was a fight to even get hired at the shitty bar you worked at now, you weren’t willing to go back to looking for work. 

So you simply bit your tongue and took what money you could get. It wasn’t the first time he did it and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

You got to work as soon as you clocked in, greeting your coworkers with a tense smile that they returned. Everyone was in the same boat as you, after all. No one would choose to work here unless they were down on their luck like you.

The night started slow, slower than usual for a Friday night. Despite the place looking like it was going to fall down around you and the occasional rat that scampered across the floor, the bar was actually kind of a hotspot. The alcohol was cheap and your boss never cut anyone off so patrons were free to get as sloshed as they wanted. 

That also meant the customers tended to get rather unruly. 

Which is exactly what happened when the night inevitably picked up. More people came in, more drinks were ordered, and you were running around the place like mad to get drinks where they needed to be. 

You cast a glance to the clock behind the bar, sighing in relief when you realized you had 10 minutes left of this hell. 

You were sure you were a sight, clearly run ragged and ready to get the hell out of there and go home. Your feet were sore from the old, worn shoes you wore. They looked fine on the outside, cute, but the soles were worn down and provided absolutely no cushion. It was hell. 

“This goes to the corner table,” the bartender called over the loud voices of the bar. He was a nice guy, couldn’t be older than 20, but you honestly couldn’t even recall his name. 

You took the tray of shitty beer from the counter and quickly made your way to the corner table in the back, careful not to spill a drop. You placed the tray down and gave the guys at the table a charming smile.

“Here’s your drinks,” you said, placing a glass in front of all 4 of them. 

“Thanks, beautiful,” one of them slurred, given a drunken wink.

“Um, is there anything else you need?” you asked, ignoring his flirting, as you picked up the tray. 

“Maybe,” another one chuckled, leaning back in his seat, raking his eyes down your body. You wished you could crawl into a hole at the feeling of his gaze on you. Despite being fully clothed, it made you feel incredibly naked – like he could see through your clothes. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time a customer or two flirted with you. It was sort of a rampant problem in this bar, if you were honest.

“What is it you need?” you asked, wishing so badly you could just be free from the conversation. 

One of them pulled out a stack of money, waving it in front of your face, “I’ll tip you this if you show us your tits.”

Your cheeks burned hot in humiliation as the other three laughed and jeered. You shifted on your feet, tapping your fingers anxiously against the metal tray in your hands, envisioning yourself slamming it over their heads. 

“N-No thank you…I-I don’t think that would be appropriate,” you hope that they can’t hear the way your voice trembles over all the noise in the bar.

“Come on, sexy,” the one with the money grinned, licking over his teeth as his eyes narrowed on your chest, “Bet they’re real nice. C’mon, you need the money right? Why else would you be working at a place like this? Go on, just lift your shirt up and let us see them tits!”

“M-My shift is over, I really need to go,” you shakily smile and take a step back, “I-I hope you enjoy your night, boys.”

Your attempt to diffuse the situation and get out of it proved futile because when you attempted to flee, one of them clapped a firm hand around your wrist and tugged you forward. You stumbled on your feet, dropping the metal tray with a gasp, finding yourself nose to nose with one of them. The smell of alcohol was potent on his breath and it made your lip curl in disgust. You tried to tug yourself free of his grasp but his grip was too strong. 

The guy sitting on the other side of the one who had a hold on you reached over his buddy to yank the neckline of your shirt down, the cheap, worn material stretching with ease until it tore at the weakest point. You let out a horrified cry when your bra became visible to the group, all of them cheering and shouting degrading things right in your face. 

The one across the table reached down, you felt his hand against your breast through your bra and a lightning bolt of pure terror ripped through you. It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You could feel his thumb hook under your bra and start to tug, tears flooded your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You raised a hand and as hard as you could, slapped the one still holding you clean across the face. 

The entire table went still but his grasp loosened enough for you to turn on your heel and bolt as fast as you could into the staff room, covering your exposed bra with your arms as best you could. You passed one of your coworkers, her eyes wide in concern when she saw your state. 

She followed you into the staff room, closing the door quietly behind her. You stood in front of your locker, ripping it open as you attempted to collect your things but your mind was running too fast for you to actually make any meaningful movements.

Your coworker called your name and you paused.

“Hey, take a breath,” she whispered softly, placing a hand on your back. You realized you were hyperventilating. You attempted to level out your breathing, wiping the tears off of your cheeks only for more to replace them. 

“What happened?” she asked softly, “Do you want me to call someone? The police?”

You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond but only a little sob comes out. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. She looks nothing but sympathetic, softly patting your back and encouraging you to breathe deeply. 

The staff room door suddenly slams open, making both of you jump. Your boss storms in, completely red in the face and furious. 

“Get out,” he snaps at your coworker. 

She casts an apologetic look to you, squeezing your hand before she ducks her head and leaves the staff room. He slams the door behind her, locking it for good measure – leaving both of you alone. 

He advances on you faster than you can react, he wraps a hand around your throat and slams you against the lockers. It hurts but you can’t get a noise past the grip around your neck. You blink back the tears that are still coming, trying to see him more clearly.

“Are you broke in the fuckin’ head?!” he screams, a volume that makes your ears ring. You wonder if the patrons can hear it outside, “You put your hands on a customer?!”

“Th-They put their hands on me first!” you defended yourself, hoarse and choked under his grip, “They touched me!”

He only looks more furious, eyes falling to your ripped shirt and exposed bra. He grabs one side of the already torn shirt and yanks, ripping it the rest of the way. Your eyes go wide and your first instinct is to kick him but you’re panicked and uncoordinated so it misses its mark.

“I don’t give a shit if they forced you over the table and fucked you!” he howls, spitting all over your face in his rage, “You better think fast and hard about how you’re going to rectify this. Do you understand me?”

His grip tightens a bit more around your throat and you hastily nod, blubbering mindless apologies to try and appease him. He doesn’t look any less angry but lets you go nonetheless. Your knees are too shaky to hold you up so you slide down the lockers until you’re sitting on the dirty floor.

“You go out there and you apologize to them,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Or I’m going to fire you and you’re gonna be out on the fuckin’ streets, got it?”

You nod your head, holding back your sobs but can’t control the tears that fall down your cheeks. He sends you one last glare before turning back to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open. 

You’re left there, trembling on the floor and quietly crying to yourself. Your heart is racing and you’ve never felt more terrified and humiliated in your life.

The door opens again and you look up in horror at the idea of your boss coming back. But it’s your coworker again. 

She quietly crouches next to you and gives you a once over, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I-I have to apologize t-to them,” you manage to choke out. 

Her eyes widened, “No way! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I can’t lose this job,” you sob, pressing the heel of your hands to your eyes as you cry, “I need this job. He says he’ll fire me if I don’t apologize!”

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go with you, okay? You can apologize and then you can go, that’s it.”

You nod your head and stand up, using the lockers as a crutch. Your coworker helps you steady yourself before she sees your shirt is ripped even more than when she left.

She whispers your name, “Are you sure he didn’t…”

“He only ripped it,” you assure her, sniffling softly, “But I can’t go out there like this.”

It dawns on you that you forgot a jacket. It was a little warmer today than it had been in days and you had simply neglected to bring one. 

“You can borrow my hoodie,” she assures, opening her locker to tug it out, handing it to you, “Go on, you can return it to me another day.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, clumsily sliding it over your head. You feel much better now that you’re covered up, you feel less vulnerable. You quickly collect all your belongings so you can leave as soon as you get this over with.

You let her lead you out of the staff room. The second you’re out, the blaring noise immediately proves to be too much. You wipe your eyes, using the sleeve of the hoodie. You make a note to wash it properly when you return it. 

You feel the eyes of strangers on you and it just makes you feel worse with every passing second. You want to go home. You want to shower. You want to crawl into bed. You want Simon. 

You let her lead you to the table, all the men are still there laughing and drinking their beers. They fall silent when you approach, four pairs of eyes falling on you, making you feel humiliated and small. They look expectant, the one who ripped your shirt tapping his fingers against the table. 

“There you are!” the one who had held your wrist grinned. It was a predatory smile that made your heart race anxiously, “Thought you were gonna run away without apologizing for bein’ a raging bitch.”

You flinch at the insult and your coworker squeezes your hand in support, “I-I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” another one jeered, “Practically ruined our night. How are you going to make it up to us?”

“I’ve got a few ideas!” a different once laughed. The other three joined in eagerly.

“How about you stay back late and really make it up to us, huh?” you squeezed your coworkers hand in yours, already feeling the tears returning with a vengeance.

“How about I bring you a round on me, huh?” she quickly intervenes, “I’ll buy.”

That seems to do it for the 4 men and they rambunctiously cheer and slam their hands on the table obnoxiously. You think you hear her promise to be back with their drinks as she pulls you away from the table. You both hide away in the staff room again and she holds both your hands in hers.

“Go on home,” she says softly.

“I-I’ll pay you back for the drinks–” she shushes you quickly when you start.

“Don’t even worry about it,” she coos, “Go home.”

With a gentle nudge to the back entrance, she casts you one last kind smile before slipping out of the staff door. 

You don’t even remember the walk home, your mind completely fuzzy. But you’re sobbing again by the time you stumble into the door. You collapse onto the floor in front of your couch, wailing into the cushions as the weight of the night fully and entirely collapses on you. You can barely breathe through your tears, hiccups and coughs breaking up the endless crying only to resume when you catch your breath. 

You have no idea how long you sit there, crying louder and harder than you have in a very, very long time. 

You hear your front door creak open before the living room light flips on. You go completely stiff, your crying finally going silent as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps step into the living room before they fall still when he sees you.

He calls your name, soft and gentle in a way that is completely unlike him. Simon isn’t soft, he talks to you in a cold, apathetic and teasing tone. He’s always clipped and blunt. Sure, he’s kind but never gentle.

Just the sweet tone makes your lips wobble and suddenly you’re sobbing again. His boots hit the floor fast, taking quick, big strides so he can reach you as fast as he possibly can. Two strong hands hook under your arms and turn you towards him. He takes a seat beside you on the floor and tugs you into lap.

You melt into his chest, secured by his embrace as he holds you. One hand cups the back of your head and the other wraps around your back. 

“You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” he explained his arrival, lips pressed to the crown of your head, “Got worried so I rushed over.”

You grip his hoodie in your hands, anchoring yourself to him as you cry and cry. He remains silent, content to hold you and let you cry out everything you’re feeling. 

Just having him there, holding you and comforting you, is enough to ease your tears until you’re just a hiccuping, sniffling mess. You’re taking those quick, stuttering gasping breaths that signify the end of your meltdown and Simon slowly eases his hold on you. 

He cups your cheek in one hand, raising your head up so he can really look at you. He rubs a thumb under your eye, wiping away your tears. He looks so concerned, brows furrowed and a frown on his lips. 

The sight of his face makes your lips wobble again, “Si…” you finally manage to choke out.

His gaze softens immediately, his other hand coming up to cup your face as well. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he finally asks, letting go of your face to hold your waist, keeping you curled up in his lap. 

You think about it. You want to tell him all about it, to get it off of your chest and figure out how the hell you’re supposed to move past it. But you know that if you tell him, he’s going to march his ass to your job the second he gets a chance and put your boss’s head through the wall and find those assholes from the table. 

You really can’t afford to lose your job. Your bills are tight enough as it is, you’re scraping by by the skin of your teeth. If you’re jobless for even a week, it’s going to fuck everything up. You’ll never make rent and you can’t end up on the street. 

“Just a…bad shift…” you supply lamely.

Simon stares at you, jaw set and tense, “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact you’re lying in the first place or the fact you don’t think you can tell me what really happened.”

“Simon…” you whine, pushing yourself off of his lap, “Just let it go, please.”

He follows your lead when you stand up. He still hasn’t taken his boots off, still too concerned about you to care. Every step he takes is a loud sound of his weight in those boots. 

You pace back and forth, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m not letting it go,” he responds, “I think you know me better than that.”

“Simon, please!” you feel the tears returning again and you suddenly realize how tired you are from crying. Your eyes are sore and you just want to sleep. 

“I want to know what happened,” he argues, clearly growing exasperated. 

You know he’s not going to let it go. He knows you too well to believe any lies. You press your hands to your face and let out a noise of frustration and despair. You can feel his eyes on you, unwavering and firm. You feel hot, like you’re overheating and suffocated. With trembling hands, you haphazardly tug at the hoodie – you need it off or you’re going to go mad. 

Simon reaches forward to help you, watching your rising panic but you slap his hands away. He looks stupefied at your reaction but retracts his hands. 

But you can’t get the damned thing off, you’re uncoordinated and clumsy, unable to pull your arms through the sleeves so you can get it off. Why won’t it come off? 

“G-Get it off,” you finally cry, completely unaware of the pure horror in your voice.

Simon’s hands are back, “I’ve got you. I’ll get it off ya.” 

True to his word, he tugs it up and it slips over your head with ease. You feel like you can take a deep breath finally, feeling the cool air of your living room against your skin again. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to calm yourself. 

He says your name softly but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You jump when you feel the ghost of his fingers against your stomach – the skin is bare and it makes your eyes fly open. You look down and remember that your shirt was completely torn open, the hoodie had been hiding it, and now Simon is seeing. You can see the realization in his face.

He’s not an idiot. If anything, he’s more intelligent than anyone you’ve ever known. 

Suddenly your stomach turns and you place a hand over your mouth. You’re running down the hallway, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet as you heave. 

You don’t hear any movement from Simon. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom. You’re briefly thankful for the escape as the nausea disappears before you suddenly crave to have him near you again.

“Simon!” you cry, his footfalls an immediate response. 

He crouches beside you, placing a hand on your back, “You finished?”

You nod, spitting one last time into the toilet, “I-I want to shower.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he stands, stepping past you to turn on the shower for you. He places a consoling hand on the top of your head in passing before he goes to leave you alone. You reach out and grab his hand before he can get too far.

He pauses and looks at you, easily understanding. He brushes his thumb over your hand, “Not goin’ anywhere, love.”

He takes a step outside of the bathroom and stands there, hands held in front of him as if he were on guard, like a security guard. You flush the toilet and shakily strip your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm spray ease your sore body and clear your sinuses. You’re terribly stuffy from crying so you can’t even smell your grapefruit body wash this time.

You finish your shower, making sure you scrub your body as best you can before you step out and wrap a towel around your body.

“Are you hungry?” Simon suddenly asks.

“No…” your tone is flatter than you had intended and you realize that you’re completely emotionally drained. 

“Alright,” is all he says in reply.

You approach the door, where he’s still standing. You place your hand against his back and he quickly steps aside to let you by. You hear his boots behind you as he follows you to your bedroom. 

You sit on the bed, completely exhausted. Simon makes himself busy with going through your dresser, pulling out some clothes for you to wear before he places them on the bed beside you. You don’t make any movements. 

He sighs, softly saying your name before crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his. 

“Was it your boss?” he asks softly. 

“Him and some assholes I was serving drinks to,” you tiredly answer. You don’t have it in you to fight in anymore. 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” he pries, squeezing your hands.

“Because I know you, Si,” you sniffle, “You’re going to go down there and put them all in the hospital when you find them.”

“And?” he scoffs, “They fuckin’ deserve it. No one gets to put their hands on you like that and get away with it.”

“Because I can’t lose my job, Si!” you finally cry, “I barely make ends meet as it is! I-If I lose my job, what am I supposed to do? I won’t be able to afford rent. I’ll be on the streets!”

“I would never let that happen,” he says firmly, “You will never be on the streets, love. I will always take care of you, you know that.”

“I can’t do that to you, Simon,” you mutter, sniffling again, “Y-You already have so much on your plate I don’t want to be another problem you have to deal with.”

“Is that what you think?” he scoffs, standing up, “That I deal with you? You’re important to me, I take care of you because I never want anything to happen to you. I’m not going to let you work at that shithole for a minute longer.”

You hang your head, unable to supply any arguments to him anymore.

“I’m going to make you something small to eat. You’re going to eat and drink some water and then you’re going to get some rest, understood?” he gives a satisfied hum when you nod your head in compliance. 

Once you’re alone, you go over his words again. You’re important to him, that’s what he said. It was the most clear he had ever been with his feelings towards you since you confessed your feelings when you were young. 

As you methodically got dressed in the clothes he picked out for you, you reminisced. Memories of him were always something that made you inexplicably happy – except for one memory.

You were 14 and he was 17 at the time. You’d known each other for your entire childhood after his mother had brought him over for a playdate despite the age difference and the fact you were closer in age to his brother. 

He had always looked after you and taken care of you, walking you home after school and simply looking after you when your parents were busy. It was inevitable that you would grow feelings for him. You remember the way your heart would race every time you looked at him. You remember telling your friends that he was your boyfriend, hoping he wouldn’t find out.

You had told him one evening when he was hanging out, having dinner with your family, that you liked him – like liked. 

You remember how you cried into your pillow night after night when he rejected you. Told you flat out that you were an idiot and to drop it and never, ever bring it up again. That he didn’t feel the same. And that was that. 

You never brought it up again. 

But the crush never once waned. You decided that his friendship was more important than your feelings for him so you would never let him know. And that’s how it had been ever since. 

Simon’s voice calling your name ripped you from your reminiscing. You tied the drawstrings of the sweats he had picked out and quickly made your way to the kitchen. 

Simon was washing a pan by the time you arrived but he nodded to a plate he set on the counter for you. It was just a small omelet he made, complete with a light drizzle of ketchup. 

He knew you well, you couldn’t deny. You picked up the fork he’d placed on the plate for you and slowly began to eat. 

After being sick, your stomach was painfully empty so you were happy to have something on it once again. Simon quietly finished washing the dishes he had dirtied before he placed them on the dish rack and dried his hands. 

“Um, Simon?” you called softly, receiving a grunt in reply, “Didn’t you have something going on tonight?”

“Was gonna be out the lads,” he responded, “Doesn’t matter, can hang out with those idiots anytime.”

“You shouldn’t talk about your friends like that,” you said, shaking your head as you took a final bite of your omelet.

“Aint my friends,” he reached down and took your plate from you, tossing it into the sink.

“Simon Riley doesn’t have friends?” you asked, eyes following him as he locked up your apartment and started to turn out the lights.

“Got you,” he said as you followed him down the hall, “All I need.”

A fond smile made its way across your face as he yanked his shirt above his head. You began to make yourself comfortable in bed, trying to keep your eyes off of him as he got dressed for bed. Despite the way you wanted to take the chance to look at him.

Friends. That’s what you were, you reminded yourself. 

Finally, he climbed into bed beside you, making himself comfortable before you turned out the light. 

Yet, despite your exhaustion from the night, you felt like you couldn’t close your eyes. You felt like you couldn’t relax. The tension in your body was so much that you were sore. Like you had gone to the gym instead of went to work. 

“Simon..?” you whispered into the dark. He was silent for a second before he hummed in response, “Can I…tell you what happened tonight?”

He was quiet again but you felt him move, a hand blindly reaching over to you to find your hands. You took it in both of yours, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. 

“This stupid group of guys were sloshed beyond belief,” you began to tell him, aware of his gaze on you through the dark, “They were just chattin’ shit, saying they’d tip me if I showed them my tits,” he scoffed beside you, clearly displeased, “I said no and tried to leave and they wouldn’t let me. One of them ripped my shirt and tried to pull my bra up so I slapped him.”

“Fuckin’ bastard deserved to get his teeth knocked down his throat,” Simon growled from beside you.

“I got away and went to the staff room but my boss came in and he was so fucking angry, Si,” your voice shook as you remembered the way his face had been so red and a look of pure hate had been in his eyes, “He grabbed my throat and pinned against the lockers. He was angry that I had struck a customer.”

“Of course that’s all that bastard would be angry about,” Simon spit, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“I tried to tell him that I was defending myself but he said–” your voice broke and you struggled to blink back the tears. Simon sat up a bit, pulling you into his chest, letting you curl against him, the rapid hum of his heart loud in your ear, easing you immediately, “He said that he didn’t care if they put me over the table and fucked me, he would fire me if I didn’t apologize to them.”

Simon’s arms tightened around you immediately, cursing under his breath, “He made you apologize to them?” 

You nod your head, “It was so humiliating, Si. B-But I just didn’t want to lose my job. They just laughed at me and made a joke of it.”

“Pieces of shit,” he hisses, pressing a kiss against your temple, “They better hope I don’t find them.”

You’d really love to see them blubbering on their knees, crying and terrified like you had been. They wouldn’t be so awful in the face of a guy bigger and stronger than them – someone like Simon. 

“I should have gone to the bar tonight,” he sighed, “Even though you told me not to, I wanted to.”

“It’s okay, Si,” you sniffle, “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

You wrap your leg around his waist and snuggle deeper into his chest, finally feeling content to sleep so long as you got to be in his arms. 

You wake up late, well into the afternoon. You’re groggy and struggle to pull yourself out of bed. Simon isn’t in bed, so you force yourself up in search of him. 

As you left, you noticed that the clothes you were wearing last night were gone and weren’t in the laundry basket. You knew for a fact that you left them on the floor. 

He’s relaxing on the couch as usual. His hair is wet and you can smell your body wash wafting off of him when you crawl onto the couch beside him. He reaches a hand out and pets your head gently as a greeting.

“Sleep well?” he asks. You nod your head, “Hungry?” You nod again.

He huffs through his nose and stands up, pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of your head to go prepare something for you to eat. The sound of Simon bustling about the kitchen filled the apartment and you found yourself relaxing into the couch. 

“Simon?” you called, getting to your feet to make your way to the kitchen. 

He had his back to you as he fried up something in the pan but he hummed in response nonetheless.

“Where did my clothes from last night go?” you ask softly.

He pauses his stirring of the food, “Threw them out. Figured you wouldn’t want to see them when you woke up.”

“Oh,” you respond. 

Your heart feels full at his show of care. It was quiet actions like that that just made you feel so…in love, you think before correcting yourself. Fluttery. Cared for. Loved. 

No, he doesn’t love you.

You shake your head and move to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, going to sit on the couch to wait for Simon to finish cooking. 

The day was spent like that, just you and Simon in your flat. Him just keeping you company and keeping your mind off of things. 

You were curled up against him, listening to the beating of his heart and watching the movie he had decided to play. It was peaceful. He smelled nice, like you. And he was so comfortable beneath you, firm and big. 

His thighs were spread wide, one of your legs thrown over one of his, only serving to make you more aware of how big and firm he was. Solid. Well-built. 

Handsome.

You cast a glance at his face. His brown eyes were half-lidded as he mindlessly nibbled at his bottom lip. They looked soft and shiny. You wondered what he tasted like, how he kissed.

Was he rough? Soft? Did he like to use tongue. 

You’d never kissed anyone before. You wondered if he would be okay with that. You knew some guys liked experienced partners and some liked them inexperienced. You wonder what he preferred. 

Just the idea of kissing him had your heart hammering in your chest and your face burning. You quickly looked at the TV, snuggling closer to him. He squeezed you closer, hand mindlessly rubbing up and down your back. 

Kissing Simon…you pictured him over you, cupping your cheeks in the way he always does. You imagine him pressing his pretty lips against yours, moving them softly against yours. You imagine what it would feel like for him to pin you down, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned and whimpered beneath him, unable to move anywhere because he’s so much bigger and stronger than you. In charge. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, already starting to drip into your panties. Suddenly you sit up, eyes wide and cheeks flush. Simon looks perturbed, an eyebrow raised at your sudden movement.

“I’ve got to take a shower,” you shakily supply before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy breathing. 

What the hell was wrong with you? How the hell could you be thinking about sex and getting turned on after yesterday? How could you be thinking about Simon like that when he was right there? What the fuck was your problem?

You hastily reached over and turned the shower on, the pipes clanking loudly as the water flowed through them. 

Shouldn’t you be the opposite of horny after what happened yesterday? Maybe you really were broken. 

You strip and quickly step into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would possibly go. You needed it to hurt so you would stop acting like such a freak. Like a slut. 

You fight back tears as you begin to wash up. 

By the time your shower is done, you’re exhausted again. You dry off and wrap the towel around yourself, opening the door to find Simon standing on the other side. You jump and gasp, placing a hand over your heart to calm the beating.

“You scared me!” you whine, slipping past him to the bedroom.

“Wanted to check on you,” he says, following slowly behind you, watching as you pick out clothes.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “I just got really tired and I’d like to turn in early, that’s all.”

“Alright,” he replies, standing there for a second before making his way back to the door, “Just call if you need anything.”

“I will!” you offer him a smile, watching as he leaves, closing the door behind him. 

You quickly dress and climb into bed, turning the lights out before squeezing your eyes shut to will yourself to sleep. Surprisingly, it came quickly and easily – maybe you were more tired than you thought. 

Little did you know that Simon took the opportunity of you sleeping early to slip away and take a little 15 minute walk. 

When you start to dream, you’re acutely aware that it’s a dream. You’re not sure how but, you just know that you’re sleeping and none of this is real.

But god it feels real and you want it to be real so you go along with it. 

Simon is there, you’re both in your bed. He’s got his shirt off and he’s on top of you, kissing your neck softly. Sweetly. 

He doesn’t smell like your body wash anymore, he smells like his – a crisp, musky scent that you love so dearly. And he’s so warm against you. 

You realize that you’re only wearing a pair of panties when his lips suddenly attach to your breast, mouthing at your nipple. His tongue swirls over the bud and it feels so good you can’t help but moan. 

“Si…” you sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. He rewards you by surging up and pressing his lips against yours. He tastes vaguely like mint and it’s intoxicating. So simple, nothing special or poetic. Just mint. Simon. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kiss him back. Kissing is easy, you hazily think. You just move your lips in time with his and it falls into place. 

Simon’s hips move against yours and you cry out when you feel the hard swell of his cock press against you through his sweatpants and your panties. He’s so hard and it's so hot even through the layers of clothes. 

“Si…” you whimper again.

“I’m here, love,” he coos, “I’ve got you.”

He rocks his hips against yours and fuck, it feels good. You eagerly spread your legs and find yourself wishing that the panties weren’t in the way. You’d love to hear the sticky sound of your pussy against his cock through his sweats. You’d love to see the stain of your slick against them, knowing that you marked him as yours like that. 

You feel hot, that tense warmth growing in your tummy. The promise of pleasure that you’ve never been able to experience. Maybe Simon could supply it. You’re sure he could, actually, you convince yourself.

If he just keeps going, keeps rutting his hips like that, you could cum all messy in your panties. Just for him. Only for him. 

Just as you swear it’s going to wash over you, your eyes fly open and you gasp. Your entire body feels hot and sweaty and you realize you’ve thrown your blanket off of your body. The sun is shining through the window and Simon is nowhere to be seen in bed. 

You swallow, your throat feeling painfully dry. 

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaks open and Simon comes in with a laundry basket. He casts a glance at you and seems to relax when he realizes you’re awake.

“Was doin’ some laundry,” he explains, turning to open your drawers to begin putting the clean clothes away.

“Oh,” you whisper, sounding hoarse, “Thank you, Si.”

As you watch him, you realize he seems tenser than usual. You sit up and bed and watch him put the clothes away until he’s finished. He stands there for a moment before looking over his shoulder at you.

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I’ve gotta go tonight.”

“Go?” you ask, eyes going wide. You don’t want him to leave, “Go where?”

“I’ve got some work to take care of,” he replies, “Paperwork I’ve been puttin’ off. Gonna pull a late one to get it done.”

“I-I don’t want you to go,” you confess softly, trying to blink back the tears that sting your eyes. You feel so pathetic, crying because he needs to leave. But you haven’t been without him since it happened and you’re scared to be alone with just your thoughts.

“I know,” he hums, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, cupping your cheek, “I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?” you ask. He nods, teasingly pinching your cheek before you smile and bat his hand away. When he pulls it back you notice his knuckles – bruised and split open. They weren’t like that last night you were sure of it, “Simon…”

He catches you looking and gives you a tense smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

He stands up and kisses your forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving you to get ready for the day. 

Thankfully, Simon remains around for the day. You notice he’s on his phone a lot more, typing away. It’s unlike him, he’s more the type to do phone calls rather than text. When you ask him about it he just waves you off with an explanation about Soap being on his ass. 

You have a feeling he’s lying but you don’t pry. 

Before he leaves, he makes you dinner. You walk him to the door, unable to stop the pout on your face when he puts his boots on. You can’t help but wish that he’d change his mind at the last second and stay with you after all. 

But he doesn’t. He pulls his balaclava over his face and slips his hood up before turning back to you. 

“Don’t cry, love,” he coos, wiping a stray tear away, “I promise I’ll get all my work done and I’ll be all yours for a good long while.”

“Okay…” you sound so miserable but you can’t bring yourself to care, “I’ll miss you.”

He brings you in for a hug, making sure to squeeze you nice and tight before he pulls back. He can’t give you his normal kiss because of the mask and that only makes you sadder. 

You don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to go. You want him to stay. You want to keep him close. He makes you feel safe. He makes you feel complete. You love him so much. 

You hold onto his hoodie for as long as you can until he has to shake you off and close the door behind him. And you stand there for a long time. Like a puppy who's been left home alone for the first time, just waiting for its owners to come back because it’s scared it’s going to be alone forever. 

By the time you bring yourself to leave the door, the food Simon made you is cold. That only seems to make you feel worse. 

Then you sit on the couch and watch TV, feeling hopelessly alone. You wished you had Simon to curl into and snuggle with. The tiny couch has never felt bigger. 

You shower and brush your teeth, pouting at the sight of his toothbrush, another reminder that he isn’t there. 

Before that night at the bar, you never would have felt so isolated without him; lonely, sure. But now that you’re experiencing this gut-wrenching emptiness, you feel close to tears every time you think about him. He was truly your rock, the only thing that brought you comfort. You loved him.

You flop against the bed and let the tears fall down your temples. You love him. You do.

You’re so fucking in love with him that it hurts. Your heart aches in your chest. You want him there to hold you. 

You know he doesn’t feel the same, you know it will never become anything. But you’re willing to take whatever you can get. Just his company. You can be content so long as he’s with you, as long as he’s in your life. 

But you can think about him, imagine yourself telling him how you feel. Imagine that when he holds you close that he feels the same too. That he loves you. You want him to love you so desperately. 

You wish that he loved you. 

You curled into his pillow, sniffling pathetically as you closed your eyes. You cry yourself to sleep. 

Your eyes fly open and the gasp you let out changes to a sob. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. All you see is flashes of their faces in your head. All you can feel are their hands on you. 

A nightmare, your brain supplies but it does nothing to quell your anxiety and fear.

You reach for Simon, instinctive and desperate. But you only touch the cold mattress and you’re reminded that he isn’t home tonight. 

You fumble through the sheets to find your phone.

I’ll just be a call away, you know. If you need me, I’ll be there. 

He promised.

You can barely see the screen as you look for his contact. You call him, hands trembling as you hold it to your ear. It rings and rings and rings. Then beeps and goes to voicemail.

You hang up and try again. And again. And again.

He doesn’t answer. Why won’t he answer? He promised.

You call him again but it goes straight to voicemail. You can practically feel your heart shatter in your chest. He was ignoring your calls. He ignored you. 

But he had promised he would come when you needed him. And you needed him. 

Your phone becomes completely blurry through your tears as you begin to cry in earnest. You feel hurt, betrayed, disappointed, and angry. You’re fucking angry. 

You suddenly need to let it out. So you take your phone in your hand and throw it, listening to it slam against the wall. It’s loud and the light on your screen goes out. But you don’t feel better. You’re still a mess of volatile emotions. It feels like it’s all bottled up inside you and it hurts. 

You take his pillow and grip it in your fists. You want to rip it to shreds, want to tear it open and release all your anger on it. Instead, you just slam your fists against it. 

Then you do it again. And again. And again. 

You punch the damned thing as you cry and cry. You’re sure you must be a sight. You must be making so much noise as you sob and shriek. 

You were angry at what happened to you, you were angry you had apologize to them for hurting you, you were angry because you couldn’t even sleep peacefully without being plagued by a nightmare the first night you were without Simon, and you were angry he broke his fucking promise. 

Before long, all you were doing was sobbing into his pillow – wailing and crying your broken heart out. You tire yourself out, completely exhausted of all emotions. You lay there, quietly hiccuping and sniffling, just staring into the inky darkness. 

You’re there for hours, unable to fall back asleep. The sun slowly creeps over the horizon and begins to cast an orange glow around the room. 

You can’t even find beauty in it. You’re so exhausted. Your heart aches. It’s agonizing. 

It’s early morning by the time you hear your front door open. You don’t feel excited to see him. You’re not happy he’s back. You don’t feel anything, actually. All you can do is slowly blink, gaze focused outside the window where you can faintly hear birds chirping. 

You wish you were a bird so you could fly away wherever you want. You would fly away from here right now if you could. You wanted to leave. 

You didn’t want to see Simon. You were so angry at him. You’ve never felt like this about him before. You don’t know what to do. All you can think right now is how much you hate him. 

God, you hate him. 

He’s surprisingly quiet as he walks through your apartment. You hear him push the door open, your back to him. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel how he hovers in the doorway. 

He wanders further into the room before pausing. 

He rounds to your side of the bed and sees that you’re awake, simply staring out the window. He holds your phone up, screen clearly shattered before he places it on the table beside you. 

“You called,” he says softly, shifting anxiously on his feet. Simon’s never anxious. But he is right now, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer. I was just…busy. Had some unruly recruits, you know how it is.”

Your eyes finally move from the window, landing on him. He’s wearing the same thing he was last night. Just some jeans and white t-shirt. It’s a nice one, it fits him well and it looks comfy. 

Simon stands there under your gaze, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He’s not used to feeling scrutinized. And that’s exactly what your gaze feels like. 

Your eyes wander to a strange discoloration on his shirt. It’s tan, just a light stain. There’s a tiny smear of black as well. Then you spot the red on his collar, ruby red. 

He looks guilty. He would look like a kicked puppy if you didn’t know any better. This isn’t guilt because he missed your call. He’s guilty because he was too busy getting his dick wet to answer you. 

That’s why he ignored you? To fuck someone?

You’re no longer numb. You’re angry again. That overwhelming feeling that you have no idea how to let out. It’s like it just boils up inside you, like a pot boiling over. It has no place to go but out. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to register it. You just need to show him how angry you are. Fucking furious. 

You grab the empty glass on your nightstand and wail it in his direction harder than you thought possible. Simon barely dodges, slamming himself against the wall as it shatters behind him. 

Now he looks angry. Good. Maybe he’ll feel a fraction of what you feel right now. 

“Are you out of your fucking head?” he snarls, animosity dripping off of every syllable. 

You don’t even answer, grabbing a book that you have stacked there before throwing that too. Then the second book. Then the third book. Then you throw your phone at him. Then you take the lamp, rip the plug right from the wall and throw that too. 

When you’re out of things to throw on the table you throw your pillow. It’s when you’re about to throw his pillow that he finally has enough. He rips it from your grasp and tosses it across the room. 

He’s standing there, fists balled at his sides and his shoulders heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself. 

“I hate you,” you finally spit, standing on your knees. You don’t have anything to throw so you slam your hands against his chest. You hit him, crying and sobbing as you wail over and over about how you hate him. You hate him so fucking much. 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” you scream. You’re so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear but you don’t care. It feels good to let your anger out on him, to punch and slap and claw at his shoulders, chest, and arms. He doesn’t do anything but stand there and let you. He’d never lay a hand on you, even when you’re doing it to him, “I needed you and you were too busy fucking some stupid whore?!”

He doesn’t say anything but he’s trembling now. You’re not sure if he’s just that angry or if he’s holding himself back from wringing your neck. 

You pause to look up at him. His jaw is set hard but he’s staring at you, his usual lazy, lidded look nowhere to be found. He looks enraged. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you spit, raising your hand as if you’re going to slap him across the face but you stop. You don’t want to do that. 

“Say what?” he finally responds, voice so cold you swear it drops the room’s temperature, “I have a life that doesn’t revolve around you. That’s the difference between us. You need me but I don’t need you.”

You sit back on your heels at that, the hurt clear on your face. Simon doesn’t seem to care in the slightest now, as tears trickle down your face. You must look a sight, pathetically gazing up at him as he glares down at you like you’re dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

“You hate me?” he scoffs, “That’s just fine. We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

He turns on his heel at that and storms out of your room, slamming your bedroom door behind him. It practically rattles the walls. Then you hear the same thing from the front door. 

And you’re all alone. And you can’t do anything but cry about it. 

You find it impossible to get out of bed after that. You lay there for the rest of the day. Then all night. You fitfully sleep when you can’t bear to be awake anymore and then wake when the nightmares hit. 

Then you watch the sun come up and decide that it’s a good day to spend in bed. So you do. You sleep on and off, only waking to cry when you’re plagued with nightmares. 

You occasionally think about Simon. More than occasionally, actually. He’s always on your mind.

You think everything over and come to the conclusion that this was all your fault. From the beginning, really. You’d been keen on staying in his life since you were children, attached yourself to his side and weaseled your way into his life. Really, you gave him no choice but to put up with you. 

He was everything to you. He was right, you needed him. You didn’t have anyone else. No friends, no family, not even a pet. Just him. Always just him. 

What choice did he have other than to put up with you day after day? He didn’t need you like you needed him, after all. He’d surely been spending his days in dread of you – of your texts, your calls. 

This was probably what he was waiting for; an escape. He probably wanted to leave a long, long time ago. You were in love with him and he wanted nothing to do with you. 

What were you thinking? Actually believing that he would want to spend his days with you, taking care of you. Who were you kidding, you were just an idiot for letting yourself believe otherwise. 

You wake up one day and realize you’re not angry anymore. Just sad. You almost prefer the anger and emptiness compared to the unending waves of sadness. 

You cry all the time. Day and night. 

You try to use your phone, you want to call him but it’s broken. The screen won’t even turn on. You’re completely alone, can’t even contact somebody – not that you have anyone but him. 

God, that was embarrassing now that you thought about it. There he was going out and getting laid and you’ve been holding out for him since you were a kid. 

You’re suddenly aware of the fact you haven’t showered in days. You’ve barely eaten, only getting up once or twice to find something to nibble on in the kitchen – a slice of bread is what you usually settle on. 

You pry yourself up from your mattress and stumble to the bathroom. The clanging of pipes is louder than it’s ever been but the hot water is completely welcome. 

When you stand there, under the burning heat that makes your skin raw, you slowly sink to the shower floor. You haven’t cleaned it in a while but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You let yourself cry again, since it’s all you can do. By the time you’re done, the water is running cold and you stand up to quickly wash yourself with soap so you can at least be clean for the next few days until you can bring yourself to shower again. 

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t have a job. You hadn’t shown up to your shift in days. And you don’t have Simon anymore. 

Panic takes shape and you realize you can’t relax. If you don’t find a job soon you’re going to be on your ass and homeless by next month. 

You haul yourself out of bed and begin rooting through your drawers for something to wear. 

Maybe you can go back to the bar and beg for your job back. You’ll do anything if you have to. 

You’re going to prove to yourself and to Simon that you’ll make it without him – and you won’t end up hanging from a fucking rope. 

The sunlight practically burns your skin from not feeling it in a while. Winter is coming in and it’s already damn cold out and you can see your breath. But you ignore it, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself as you book it for the bar. 

You’re filled with utter dread as soon as you open the door. There’s a couple patrons already drinking and you wonder what day it is. 

You look around, searching for your old boss. He’s nowhere on the floor so you make your way to the staff room and ultimately his office in the very back. 

You only realize you’re trembling when you raise your hand to knock on the door. But you bite back your fear when you’re reminded that you need the job. You need it. 

“Enter,” you hear his chilling voice call. You take a breath and push the door open. He freezes the second he lays eyes on you, he sports a black eye and a busted lip, “You.” 

“M-Mr. Dawson,” you shakily whisper, “I-I know I haven’t showed up in a few days and I’m really sorry but–”

“You want your job back,” he finishes, tossing his head back to laugh, “You want your fucking job back? After you sent that fucking lunatic here?”

“Sent who…?” you ask softly, willing your knees to stop quaking. 

“That asshole in the skull mask. Beat the shit out of me and my blasted customers. You think I’m going to let you back in after that?” he laughs again, “You’re out of your fucking mind, you dumb bitch.”

You wince at the insult, “I-I didn’t send him. H-He was a friend of mine and he did it on his own but–”

“You can have your job back,” he says suddenly, making you freeze, “If you come over here and bend over my desk for me.”

“What..?” you ask softly, watching him sit back and lick his lips as his eyes raked down your body.

“You heard me,” he snickers, “Bend over my desk and let me fuck you and I’ll let you have your job back.”

Granted, for a second, you think about it. You really do. To just let him do it. But you can’t. You know you can't, you would never do that to yourself. 

“N-No,” you find yourself whispering, “I won’t do that…”

His smile fades quickly when you say that and his lip curls in disgust and anger, “Should have let those blokes take you out back and leave you bloody in the alleyway like you deserve.”

You leave with your head hanging low and find yourself standing on the street, fighting tears. You only feel worse than before you went in. 

When you get home, you stand there and cry. That’s all you’ve been doing lately, crying. At this rate, Simon’s prophecy is going to come true and you’re going to be hanging from a damn rope. It sounds nice right about now, actually. Anything to stop the horrific pain that you feel. 

You crawl back into bed and don’t get back up that night. Or the next day. 

The only thing that gets you up the day after that is a painful twang in your stomach. You stumble your way to the kitchen and pull out the loaf of bread you’ve been nibbling at but frown when you see some pieces have begun to mold. 

You take a look in the fridge, finding it painfully empty. The vegetables and fruits that were in there have gone bad now. The meat you had bought was all used up from when Simon cooked. You didn’t even have any cup ramens because you opted to not buy any last time. 

So you resort yourself to tearing the moldy parts off the bread and eating what's left. 

As you stand there, you realize you feel so tired. Like your legs can’t hold you up, so you allow yourself to sink to the floor, back leaning against the cabinet. 

You almost want to laugh at yourself over what you’ve become. Eating moldy bread on the kitchen floor and crying to yourself. 

You place the bread in the refrigerator in hopes that that will stop its rotting process but you don’t have much hope. 

Then, you’re back in bed. And you’re so exhausted. It’s impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. So you sleep. 

But then you have another nightmare. You can’t even remember what it was about, you’re too exhausted to even jolt awake like you usually do. 

Instead, your eyes open and they’re already filled with tears before you even get the chance to register the fact you’re awake. 

So you lay like that. For a long time. Just staring at nothing. The tears stop on their own and you’re left exhausted as usual. It’s become your default state and you begin to wonder if you’re going to feel this broken and hurt forever. 

You zone out, letting your mind go hazy and erase all thoughts from it. 

You don’t even hear your front door open. Don’t hear the boots on the floor. Don’t hear your bedroom door open. 

You hear a call of your name and that gets your attention. But you don’t hear anything else. 

Your imagination? You don’t have a lamp anymore to turn on. You’d thrown it at Simon and it broke.

Suddenly, light floods your bedroom and you bolt up in bed. A large, familiar figure blocks your doorway, a silhouette against the now illuminated hallway. 

He calls your name again and your heart skips a beat. 

“Si?” you whisper, choking on a sob when he steps further into the room. 

He’s got you gathered up in his arms faster than you can think. He’s so warm and it feels so good to have him in your arms again. You wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him – hold him so fiercely that you’re worried you may actually break him. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, “It’s alright, everything’s alright.”

“S-Simon…” you can’t help but wail, clawing at the back of his hoodie as if you can feel him any closer than he already was. 

“I’m here,” he sighs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here. It’s okay. Shit, just let it out. I fucked up, sweetheart, I did. Just breathe and we’ll make everything better, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself apologizing through tears, “I-I don’t hate you, Si. I don’t, I promise. I-I was just mad. I’m sorry I was mean.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he consoles you, cupping the back of your head as you sob, “I’m the one who fucked everything up. It was a fuckin’ mistake.”

You can’t even formulate a response, too choked up with your cries that you let out into the soft cotton of his hoodie. You feel nothing but relief at having him in your arms again, you’re almost scared that he’s going to disappear if you let go. 

But he stays there, shushing you and occasionally kissing the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth on the bed. 

Before long, your cries finally quiet and you’re left curled up against him, quietly sniffling to yourself. His grip on you remains firm, unwilling to let you go. 

After several, long minutes, he finally speaks, “Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Nice, hot, shower. I’ll fix you up some food, sound good?”

You sniffle and blearily look up at him, your lashes sticking together from your dried tears, “I don’t have anything.”

“I’ll make you some ramen cups,” he responds. 

He doesn’t like them being part of your diet but it seems he was willing to overlook it just this once so could get something on your stomach. 

“Don’t have any,” you sound completely congested as you talk, sitting up a little to wipe your cheeks.

“None?” he asks, keeping his hands on your body even as you move off of his lap. 

You shake your head, “I didn’t buy any last time I went shopping.”

“What the hell have you been eating then?” he mumbles, slowly standing up from the bed. 

You wince when you hear his knees and back pop from the movement, “I haven’t had much of an appetite but I’ve got some bread…”

Simon is silent after that, nonsensically looking around the room, seemingly taking stock of what's around him. Then he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair before patting you on the head.

“I’ll order then,” he assures you, “Go ahead and shower, yeah?”

You do as you’re told, eager to wash the drying tears off of your face and hopefully wash away the lingering sadness. You know that you and Simon have a lot to talk about, but you figure it can wait until you’re both mentally prepared for it. 

You feel more refreshed than you have in days when you step out of the shower. You feel a surge of anxiety in your chest when you think maybe he had left while you were showering but when you pause to really listen, you can hear him shuffling about the flat. 

When you slip into your bedroom, you’re shocked to see that your bed has been completely stripped. He also swept up the broken remnants of the glass and lamp you had thrown at him and picked up the books. He had picked up some scattered pieces of clothes and put them in the laundry basket where they belonged. 

You get yourself dressed and place your dirty clothes in the basket so you don’t undo the work that Simon had done. 

You hear a knock on your door and it makes you jump but Simon quickly answers it. He calls your name to let you know the food has arrived and you quickly make your way to the kitchen. 

He’s methodically separating the food he had ordered into two separate groups, clearly having ordered for himself as well. 

It smells positively delicious and you find your mouth watering as your stomach growls. 

You turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water out of it. You notice that the loaf of bread you had in there is gone, most likely thrown out by Simon when he realized it was moldy.

You feel your cheeks burn in shame when you imagine him knowing that you had been eating moldy bread because you couldn’t afford to buy groceries – although, even if you had all the money in the world, you were sure you wouldn’t have felt like going out to get any. You wouldn’t have been able to order since you’d broken your phone. 

You open the styrofoam tray and immediately start devouring the chicken tenders he had ordered for you. It was simple, easy, and tasty. He clearly didn’t want to order you anything too hefty given the fact you’ve been existing on bread. 

He had a burger, taking slow bites of it and occasionally nibbling at his fries. You took the opportunity to look him over. 

He honestly looked the same as ever. He didn’t have dark circles or bags under his eyes like you did. He didn’t have red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from crying for days. For some reason that made a pang of resentment surge through you. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened. Unbothered, even. 

His words ring out through your head like a bell. 

“We’ll see how long you last without me before you’re hanging from a bloody rope.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes again but you bite them back, choosing to take a bite of your french fries. You realize now that you can hear the washing machine going. Clearly, he had put your bedding in there to wash. 

Maybe he was right, you couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t even wash your own damn laundry. 

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he interrupts your self-deprecating thoughts. 

“Oh, um,” you scramble to think of what to say. Something not depressing or something that could upset him, “I was just wondering what you’ve been up to these few days!”

You try your hardest to sound chipper and interested. You’re positive he doesn’t buy the act in the slightest from the soft, pained look he gives you. But he thankfully plays along. You’re grateful because you don’t want to cry again.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of water, “I was on base, actually. Nothin’ interesting, really. What, uh, what about you?”

You feel your smile falter and you look down at your food, “Nothing interesting. Tried to get my job back but that was a bust,” you chuckled, playing it off like a goofy anecdote, “Turns out your ex-boss doesn’t like when he gets beat to shit because of you!”

Simon drops his burger into his tray and his nonchalant expression turns sour in half a second, “You tried to go back to work at that shithole? Why the fuck would you do that? You know it’s not good for you!”

All over again, you feel your body flush with anger, and you’re shouting at him before you know it, “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Simon?! You left and I had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to do without you. I assumed you were gone forever,” you voice pathetically broke but you ignored it, tearfully glaring at him, “All you said was that I was gonna end up killing myself and I was doing everything in my power to prove you wrong.”

“You should have known me better than that!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the countertop, “I never would have left you–”

“That’s exactly what you did!” you shriek, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You left me! You ignored me when I needed you to go get laid and then left like I was nothing to you! Look at you for fuck’s sake, I’m a fucking wreck and you look like you couldn’t have fared better! I almost let that scumbag fuck me just to get my fucking job back, Simon! All because you left me.”

For once in his life, Simon seems utterly lost for words. The only sound in the small kitchen was the steady dripping of your leaky sink and you’re stuttering, sharp breaths as you force yourself to not break down all over again. 

“I should have known you better?” you whisper, resting your hands on the countertop, hanging your head so you can catch your breath, “Apparently I should have. Maybe then I would have known better to depend on you like that.”

Simon stands there, across the counter from you but feeling like he was miles away. You could hear his breathing stutter every few seconds, like he was gearing up to say something but he seemingly changed his mind every time. 

The washing machine jingle rang through the apartment and he immediately stepped away. 

Typical. Simon was never the type to truly let himself be emotionally vulnerable so there was no reason for you to expect it now. 

With him out of the room, you took the chance to wind yourself down, taking a few more bites of your tenders. You could hear Simon moving the laundry to the dryer, slamming it closed before turning it on. 

But he doesn’t reappear, evidently hiding out in the tiny room off the kitchen where your washer and dryer were. He was probably collecting himself just like you. But he appears a second later, lingering out of the corner of your eye. You can see him looking at you but you can’t bear to look back at him.

“I didn’t…” he pauses, taking a breath, “I wasn’t…” he lets out a sound of frustration before he tries again, “I wasn’t okay while I was gone.” 

He doesn’t say anything more. It was evident that that was all he was willing to give up in the moment. But you want more from him, you need more. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get past this, Simon,” you whisper, “Everything’s so fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“I am too,” he says softly, drumming his fingers against the counter, “We’ll fix it.”

His assurance marks the end of the conversation and you both resume eating the dinner he had ordered. But it’s silent and neither of you make an attempt to fill it. 

Once the food is eaten, you take a seat on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest as Simon takes your laundry basket from your bedroom and puts the clothes in the washer. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and you wish so desperately that you could crawl into bed and sleep. You suddenly realize that you have no idea what time it is. 

“Simon?” you call out when you catch him passing by. He stops at your calling, raising an inquisitive brow, “What time is it?”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, unlocking it so he can see, “9:20.”

“Oh…” you respond, tucking your head back into your knees. 

Simon walks away at that and you briefly wonder what he’s doing now. But your eyelids are so heavy and you’re finding it so hard to think clearly. 

You’re pulled from your sleep a soft hand petting over your head. Your eyes slowly drift open and you’re met with Simon’s sweet, brown eyes. 

“Made your bed,” he says so softly, thumbing over your cheek, “Go ahead and get some proper sleep.”

You nod your head and sit up, briefly wondering how you managed to flop over on your side without waking up. Simon takes your hands and helps you to your feet.

You stumble down the hallway and immediately toss yourself onto your bed. You don’t even bother to crawl under the blanket, simply drop your head onto the pillow and let sleep overcome you. 

When you wake up next, it’s from a nightmare. You gasp into consciousness, eyes wide open in the inky blackness of your bedroom. Your heart pounds in your ears and you find yourself panting, trying to stabilize yourself. 

A heavy weight tosses itself over your middle and you almost panic before you smell Simon’s cologne. Immediately, you relax and sink back into the bed. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I’ve got you.”

“I want it to stop,” you find yourself whispering, feeling so utterly exhausted, “The nightmares.”

Simon tugs you over to him, tucking you securely against his chest, his arm like a heavy weight draped across your abdomen, “We’ll get you fixed up.”

As you close your eyes and sink into his embrace, all you can think is that you should have never been broken in the first place. 

You finally sleep through the night but you wake up feeling far from refreshed. What’s most shocking is that you’re still wrapped up in Simon’s arms – and he’s still asleep. The sun is well risen now, he should have been up and about a while ago. He never strays from his schedule.

You find yourself staring at him. It wasn’t often that you got the chance to see him so peaceful. His lashes were so long, brushing his cheeks. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the deep sound of his breathing. Your eyes slowly drift closed again and you let yourself drift off to sleep once more. 

When you wake up next, it’s because Simon is trying to carefully move you off of his chest so he can get up. You whine and find yourself clinging to him again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he mutters, settling back against the headboard. He wraps his arms around you and lets you melt against him again, your head resting against his chest.

“You slept late,” you find yourself commenting.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat and softly rubs your back, “I haven’t had the chance to sleep much. Base is pretty loud.”

You want to mention that it’s never been a problem for him before but you bite it back. Instead, you hum in response. 

As you’re left in the still quietness of the late morning with him, you realize that you still have no idea how you feel about him. You don’t know how you feel about him being back. On one hand, you’ve missed him so, so dearly and you feel so complete with him by your side. You feel safer and more whole, like you could actually start healing again. 

But on the other hand, there feels like there’s a wall separating you two. The fight you two had is a heavy weight that seems to continuously pull you under the water despite how hard you fight to resurface for air. 

You love him, you really do. 

But you’re still so angry at him. 

And it feels like neither of you are going to actually talk about it properly. 

The two of you eventually make it out of bed and get moving around. You still don’t have any groceries but Simon simply orders something for breakfast again.

“Somethin’ I need to ask you,” he says, suddenly terrifyingly serious as the two of you stand in the kitchen eating.

Anxiety flares through you but you try to appear calm and cool, “About?”

“You said that,” he takes a second to collect himself, seemingly searching for the right words, “You almost slept with that guy for your job back.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “Yeah…what about it?” 

Simon paused when he heard the defensiveness in your voice, “You really almost did that?”

You frown, “So what? I can do what I want, Simon.”

He sighs softly, holding his hands up, “I’m not tryin’ to fight, love.”

“I don’t know why it’s your business,” you mumble, using annoyance to hide the shame you feel, “I just needed a job is all.”

He nods, “You don’t need to worry about that, alright. I’ve got you.”

You take a bite of your sandwich, intent on trying to take the attention off of you, “There’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“Go ahead,” he says softly, sipping on the drink he ordered – some kind of soda if you had to guess.

“That night…” you start, pausing when you notice the way he stiffens immediately. He plays it off by going back to his food, “You, um, you left to hook up with someone, right?”

He places his sandwich down and sighs, “Yeah.”

“...Why?” you finally ask, “I mean…”

You trail off and Simon remains silent. The tension is so thick you could practically see it between the two of you. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety steadily festering the longer he’s quiet. You think he isn’t going to respond at all and start to give up, hanging your head. 

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he finally says, “It was a…last minute choice and it shouldn’t have happened.”

He says it but you don’t feel any relief. That concrete weight on your chest isn’t eased in the slightest. It’s an excuse, something he’s saying to get you off his back. And that doesn’t feel good.

“I um…” you clear your throat to get rid of the way it sounds thick, “I’m sorry for that time, by the way. When I was throwing things and I-I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. So, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, “You were upset.”

“Simon…” you mumble, food completely forgotten in front of you, “I want to talk. About everything,” Simon seems annoyed immediately but he tries to hide it. You know him too well for that, though, “I-It was a lot and I think we should talk about it – really talk about it.”

He says your name exasperatedly, turning to open the fridge so he can put his leftover food inside before he slams the door. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“But I do,” you say, following him as he storms out of the kitchen, “You said some really mean shit, Si. I want to talk about it!”

He storms into the bedroom, slamming it open as he busies himself with picking up inside. You can tell he’s uncomfortable and simply trying to take his mind off of it. But you’re not going to let him avoid it.

“I don’t,” he snaps, final and harsh.

“I do!” you argue again, “I-I want to know why you said that to me. I want to know how you could–”

“Fuck sake!” he hisses through clenched teeth, ripping his hoodie off of a chair he had tossed it onto. 

He pushes past you, tugging it over his head. You follow him out of the room, watching with wide eyes as he picks up his mask from the coffee table. He tugs it on, painfully silent as he fits it into place. 

“What are you doing?” you finally ask when he gets to the door, slipping his boots on with a grunt, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” he growls, jerking the door open so hard it rattles on its hinges.

“Don’t run from me, Simon!” you cry, grabbing hold of his sleeve to keep him from stepping out, “Are you ever going to tell me you're sorry? Are you ever going to look in my eyes and tell me that you're sorry for what you said to me? For leaving me? Or are you just going to do it again?” 

You can’t fight the tears as you cry out, trying to tug him back into the apartment. But he gives you one final look before he rips his arm from your grasp and slams the door in your face. You’re left alone again, frustrated,  sad and utterly confused. 

You wished he would stop leaving. 

You decide to stay up a little later than you had lately, waiting for him to come home. The oven clock read a little past midnight when you finally called it and crawled into bed. Tugging his pillow to your side, you wrapped yourself around it and tried to imagine that it was him in your arms again. Closing your eyes, you will yourself to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to stay up and wait. 

You’re jostled awake by the weight shifting on the bed. Your eyes flutter open as it creaked under the additional weight. You know it’s Simon, even though your back is to him. He remains silent, clearly trying not to wake you and unaware that he already has. 

The heat radiates off of him in waves, comforting and nice. But despite that, you feel tears welling up until they finally trickle down your cheeks. You can hear Simon’s soft breathing and you can feel him shift every once in a while as he tries to sleep. 

“I can’t do this, Simon,” you find yourself whispering. It’s quiet but you know he hears it, “I want to feel better again. I want to stop being so fucking angry at you but you won’t let me. You just leave me again and I want you to stop. I want…” you suck in a breath and find yourself struggling to continue, simply dissolving into cries. You quiet them as best you can into your pillow.

Simon is painfully silent and still. You’re positive he’s not going to say anything. He’s going to pretend to sleep so he can avoid talking about it because that’s what he does best – avoid. When things get too hard or emotional, he avoids it like the plague. 

You suppose it’s from the way he grew up. A mama’s boy who was punished by his father for showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. It led to him being terrified of it as an adult – he refuses to let himself show that kind of weakness, even to someone who means something to him. And you know that you do – mean something to him, that is. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, just an echo in the darkness of the room. But it draws you to silence, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice thick with emotion, “For what I said to you and for the way I acted that night. I fucked up, I know. It never should have happened. What I said should have never–” he lets out a heavy breath, “I never should have said it.”

You roll over, blinking the tears out of your eyes, which tumble down your cheeks. With a sniffle, you scoot closer to him, his warmth welcome and comforting. He opens his arms for you, letting you situate yourself against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your hand rest against his chest. His own hand comes up to take it in his, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“You mean…” he trails off again but you remain patient, knowing it’s difficult for him to fight through his desire to flee, “You mean a lot to me. I never want to lose you. You’re…important.”

You nuzzle your head against him, a silent acceptance of his apology. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you more firmly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again for good measure.

He didn't look you in the eyes and tell you he was sorry but he did the best he could. In the inky blackness of your bedroom, as you shared a bed, and he held you so sweetly, he finally said what you needed to hear. And that's truly all you could ask for.

PART TWO.

do not modify, translate, or repost.

[melzula]

zuko confiding in sokka to be his wingman to try to get together with you?

a/n: sokka sharing his back bending skills with zuko we love to see it. also this takes place post-war

summary: Zuko isn’t sure how to tell you he likes you, so he looks to Sokka for guidance

Zuko watches longingly from across the room as you dance with Katara and enjoy the night’s festivities. Your eyes sparkle with joy and your smile is so infectious it has everyone around you beaming. Everyone seems to want your attention, and so he hadn’t been able to speak to you much since the party began, but he desperately wants to be near you.

“You know you look like a total creep when you stand in the corner and stare, right?” Sokka notes, interrupting Zuko’s sulking.

“I’m not staring!” The Fire Lord says defensively, but he knows he’s not fooling anyone.

“Come on, buddy, it’s a party! Lighten up! Go mingle!”

“I don’t want to mingle,” Zuko grumbles indignantly, “I just want to talk to y/n.”

“Then go talk to her!” Sokka encourages as if it’s the most easiest thing in the world. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. She’s our friend!”

“I know that,” the boy bites irritably. Deflating, he sighs, “But it’s different this time.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka says, his demeanor morphing into that of a more serious tone.

“I… I think I have feelings for her.”

“You what?!” Sokka exclaims, earning a few puzzled stares from nearby partygoers. Zuko sends his friend a harsh look and urges him to be quiet.

“I know, I know. What am I thinking? She’s perfect, she’d never go for someone like me,” he admits in quiet defeat. “It’s stupid of me to feel this way.”

“What? No way, that’s not true,” his friend insists encouragingly. “You’re a great guy! You just need to work on your romance game.”

“My what?” Zuko retorts skeptically.

“Your romance game! Look, if you want y/n to like you then you have to work your charm.”

“I don’t have any charm to work.”

“Sure you do, it’s easy! Take it from your old buddy Sokka, the ladies love me. Just follow my advice and by the end of the night y/n will be dying for you to ask her out!”

Zuko is skeptical of his friend’s words and hesitant to take Sokka’s offer of help, but he knows he’s hopeless on his own and there aren’t many other options. With a relenting sigh, Zuko gives his friend an agreeing nod.

“What should I do first?”

“Just follow my lead,” the boy says with a wink before loudly calling you and his sister over. Zuko does his best to mask his embarrassment and puts on his best attempt of a smile as you and Katara saunter over arm-in-arm.

“Hi, guys!” You greet cheerily. “King Kue really knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he?”

“He sure does! Say, that’s a really nice dress,” Sokka compliments before harshly elbowing Zuko’s side. “Don’t you agree, Zuko?”

“Uh, yes, it is,” he stammers nervously, his face immediately turning red. “You look very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a bashful smile. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not at all,” he says earnestly. “You could never be too much.”

“You know, y/n, Zuko here was just telling me how much he wants to dance,” your friend informs you much to the Fire Lord’s dismay.

“What?! That’s not-“

“Oh, well, would you like to dance with me, Zuko?” You ask with a careful smile, delicately holding your hand out for him to take. His protests immediately die in his throat as he takes in your gentle features, the world almost seeming to come to a halt as he focuses on you before him. Your beauty almost physically pains him, and he wished he knew how to tell you this without coming off like a total creep.

Zuko hesitates before taking your hand, knowing that whatever happens next could alter your friendship forever, but the idea of physical touch is almost too tempting, and so he gently grabs hold of your hand and guides you back to the dance floor.

The musicians play a melody of traditional Earth Kingdom waltzes, and despite knowing nothing about dancing Zuko does his best to match your pace. His hands are suffocatingly warm against your skin, but you never once complain. You say nothing when he steps on your toes repeatedly or gets caught on your dress, and in spite of how awkward you both look compared to the other couples on the floor you seem to be having the most fun out of them all.

“You’re doing wonderful,” you encourage, giggling when he missteps and nearly trips over his own feet.

“I’m awful at this,” he argues exasperatedly. “I’m sorry you got stuck with such a lousy dance partner.”

“I don’t care about how good you can dance. I’m just happy you’re dancing with me,” you admit, looking away bashfully to hide your smile. “I haven’t really been able to speak to you much tonight, so I appreciate being with you now.”

Over your shoulder, Zuko spots Sokka from across the way. The water tribe boy waves his arms frantically and gestures for Zuko to make his move. The Fire Lord simply scowls before swallowing down his nerves and looking back to you.

“Y/n,” he calls faintly, gently guiding your face to look back up at him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night, but it’s been hard. You’re so full of life, you draw people in with just your smile, and so I didn’t think I’d get the chance to finally be alone with you and tell you that- well, that I have feelings for you. I want to be the one that makes you smile, the one that dances with you at every party.”

“Zuko,” you murmur softly, taken aback by his confession. He takes your surprise as rejection and looks down with a dejected smile.

“I know, we’re friends. It’s strange of me to think we could be more, but I just needed to tell you.”

“No, that’s not it,” you quickly correct him, “I-I’m just surprised because I didn’t think you felt the same way I did.”

"You mean… you like me back?” Zuko asks in disbelief.

“Of course I do! What’s not to like?” You tease with a smile. “All night I was hoping you’d come up to me, and even though Katara said I should be the one to make the first move I was too scared to try. I’m glad you told me because I feel the same.”

You feel as if your heart could burst when he carefully tilts your chin up to meet your lips in a kiss. Ever since he joined your group you’d wanted nothing more than for him to see you as you saw him, and after months of what you thought was one-sided pining it seems Zuko has felt the same way about you all along. It took some time for things to come out in the open, but now that they are you couldn’t be any happier.

And unbeknownst to either of you, Katara and Sokka share high-fives behind your back in celebration of their successful plan.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

[honey-milk-depresso]

Jason, Tim and Dick with an s/o who’s completely the opposite of them??

Requests open until 1 Feb (GMT 8+)! Please read the rules on my pinned post (provided the navi post link to go to rules). Thank you!🩷

Batboys with an s/o completely opposite of them

Dick Grayson

Dick is a very extroverted, active and optimistic individual while you’re very introverted, lazy (let’s all be real here-) and… well, he calls you a realist (because he doesn’t wanna call you a pessimist-).

The two of you have a rather funny dynamic between the two of you: Dick’s always the one dragging you out because you need “sunlight”.

“Come on, s/o! Let’s take a stroll! Gotta get that vitamin D!”

“Dick… it’s 8pm.”

“…” “You get the point, come on now-”

He’s just concern for your health because he loves you and doesn’t want you to just laze at home all the time, you know? And isn’t it nice to take a stroll with your boyfriend?? Come on now-

Dick’s always the one to cheer you up when you’re grumpy or sad (or both), and you’re always there to ground him back to reality when needed and he appreciates that.

Another thing to note is that he actually has poor communication skills when it comes to the relationship, and always feels like he’s a burden to share his problems. You, on the other hand, aren’t afraid to speak your mind and put a lot of trust in him when it comes to communicating challenges within your relationship with Dick and you encouraging him to put trust in you because he will never burden you because you love him honestly makes him admire you, and also fall in love with you even more.

It’ll take some time, not because he doesn’t trust you, it’s just because there’s that lingering thought of not wishing to burden you and also because old habits die hard but… slowly he’ll get there, and that’ll be the one thing you guys can be similar in.

For now, he loves his potato couch cutie (just stroll with him every once in a while at least-) <3

Jason Todd

Has no idea how he even managed to get you, because you’re everything he’s not.

He’s always so emotional, impulsive and jealous, while you’re so calm, rational and trusting in him even when he knows he’s got so much sin in him that he’s not proud of committing, and knows he can’t be forgiven for them at times.

Yet… you never saw that in him. You’ve always thought he’s someone compassionate, loyal and caring, and you love him even at his worse. He’s never thought of himself like that after you told him so sincerely and gently that he almost broke down and cried. You love him so much as much as he loves you it makes him feel so warm and comforted. He just feels so lucky to have you.

He kinda wishes he’s like you, because he’d always think it’s better to be anyone else but you’d tell him otherwise. Besides, it’s always opposites that attract.

He loves you with every fibre of his being, you’re like a second chance given to him. Well, not that he sees you as a way to feel better but he genuinely believes you’re an angel sent to him. Literally. But seriously, he loves you and he’ll try to be a little bit more calmer than let his anger get the best of him. You always can calm him down anyways.

You always told him that his compassion for you touched you, and that his warmth and love is something you’ve never had before from anyone, you make him feel so special, you know that? <3

Tim Drake

Tim’s… all sorts of things. He’s ambivert, more introvert-leaning, but he’s also poor in time management due to his workaholic nature and rather reserved in temperament.

And you were a lot more responsible and better in time management because you ACTUALLY do set limits for yourself than just doing EVERYTHING in one goal. You weren’t a control-freak like him, rather taking things slowly. Just like him, you’re an ambivert but more extrovert-leaning and you had a tendency of getting lost in your emotions, just being more sensitive than him in general.

Every time you try to drag him to bed, shower, eat, just take care of himself he gets a bit pouty every time you do this but he’s touched. You had to open his eyes to let him see that timetables exist, and open up his heart to let him know it’s okay to take a break. Breaks even. He deserves breaks.

Tim is always there to calm you down. You just get so worried for him every time he goes out for patrol because anything could happen to him in Gotham. He reassured you, kissing your forehead softly while you patch him up with a little bit of tears glossing your eyes and tells you he’s okay. He’s never really had people care for him so much to the point they cry which was why when he got a few minor cuts on his arms and torso, he panicked when he saw you cry so much. He makes a mental note to make sure he doesn’t come home too injured, but at the same time you always tell him he shouldn’t hide his pain from you. You just want him safe.

You two just blend well together, and he always feels like he can come to you when he feels troubled. And you can always go to him for comfort.

Bonus: You dragging Tim by his feet to go to bed while his coffee-drunk ass is sighing in defeat and lets you drag him away but smiled tenderly despite being tired. Sigh, fine. He’ll sleep, just for you. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[ghostfacd]

LIVE LAUGH, SCREAM! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. where one comment could lead into an internet feud between tom blyth and yn avocot, resulting in them falling inlove ?!

author’s note. [ THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE YN AND TOM STARTED DATING ] thank you to the nonnie that said yn gives off scream vibes bc they’re the reason i even made this post in the first place! 🤭

installment of this au | read for context

ynuser scream bts (you’re welcome!)

view all comments

jennaortega did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

➥ jackchampion no but it might’ve when she stabbed u in the movie

➥ ynuser JACK 😭😭

user1 jenna flirting, jack teasing, I LOVE THIS CAST YOUR HONOR

user2 okay but literally your performance was just chefs kiss 😭 PLEASE tell me you’re starting in other movies as well bae

➥ ynuser oh thank you!! im so honored you enjoyed it ❤️ I will get back to you on your question!! 👀

➥ user3 OMGG YN IN ANOTHER FILM WOULD BE KILLER

➥ user4 well actually 🤓☝️ she was one of the ghostface in the film which means she actually was a killer

user5 @/user4 bye

tomblyth amazing film

➥ ynuser thanks

➥ user6 THANKS?? THANKS?! girl that’s tom blyth

➥ ynuser @/user6 who?

user7 no way this girl just asked who tom blyth is

➥ user8 well can u blame her tho?? he’s in like what, billy the kid or whatever? it’s not that known..

➥ user9 nah girl stars in one film and thinks she’s all that 😭

rachelzegler YOU DID SO GOOD GIRL 💕

➥ ynuser rachel my love 😭😭❤️

tomblyth who am I? well now you know

view all comments

user10 oh he’s so fine

user11 LMFAOO is this a jab at yn not knowing who you are

user12 show that girl 🤭🤭 she thinks she’s all that after getting one acting gig

➥ user13 y’all are so obsessed with her hello..

ynuser sure. now i know

➥ user14 oh im having so much fun watching all this go down

ynuser more bts because i love scream 6 and so should you!

view all comments

tomblyth yeah the movie’s cool and all but how abt i treat you out for dinner?

➥ user15 HELLO???

user16 enemies to lovers era ?

user17 pls lord get these two together

jackchampion say yes to the dinner invite and bring me back steak

➥ ynuser 🤨🤨

➥ jackchampion and a vanilla soda too please

user18 i love jack n yn’s friendship

ynuser and tomblyth both posted a story!

ynuser eating sushi and then putting on some comfy pjs is a great way to spend a day

view all comments

user19 the way tom also posted sushi pics very similar to what she’s eating…

➥ user20 WHY IS NOBODY MENTIONING THE MATCHING HOTDOG STORY POSTS AS WELL 😭😭😭

user21 pjs TOGETHER?! im afraid we’ve lost her

user22 everybody knows.. everybody knows

jackchampion splendid way to spend the day

➥ user23 what if it’s jack?? tom and yn don’t even fw each other LOL

➥ user24 true. he did ask her for dinner tho

➥ user25 who wouldn’t? she’s yn.

Eclaté_Mode On this new episode of BTS With Your Favorites, Tom Blyth dishes on his skincare routine, how he keeps himself productive during breaks, and his internet rivalry with actress, Y/N Avocot. Full video linked in bio

view all comments

user26 THE WAY HE COMPLIMENTS YN this is definitely enemies to lovers

user27 “me and yn have exciting need to share soon” excuse me

user28 so they inlove or what

user29 yn fell inlove with a brit man it’s over for US

user30 WAIT WHAT DOES HE MEANNNN

tomblyth well surprise. enemies to lovers much?

view all comments

ynuser nice pic send me it

user31 WAITT RACHEL HIM AND YN IN A FILM?? did not expect this..

user32 hold awn..

user33 is this confirmation they’re dating

➥ ynuser we aren’t dating.

➥ rachelzegler yet.

➥ user34 RACHEL???

rachelzegler you’re welcome for this crossover, i encouraged both of them to audition for the role

➥ user35 WE LOVE RACHEL ZEGLER

jennaortega take care of my gf 😽

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[tears-of-amber]

Hearth & Home Witchcraft That I've Learned

One of the biggest things that stands out to me when reading about hearth & home witchery is that everyday items are considered magical. Everyday moments, tasks, and chores as well. Its a beautiful way to live, if you really think about it. Big rituals are great, but as someone who is disabled, they rarely are doable. Here is a list of Hearth & Home Witchcraft Tips that i actually practice.

-Enchant a blanket by embroidering a sigil in the corner and using its color correspondences for your needs. It also helps me feel shielded from negative energy during meditation.

-Play music that makes you feel safe and AT HOME. This is almost like grounding, but also can be cleansing to the environment and especially the listeners. For me, its smooth jazz. The chill sound of the standup bass and the wandering piano notes that always seem to find their way to a comfortable key... its soothing to my soul.

-Talk to and about your home (kindly). So often its easy to complain about your living space. How you wish it looked or functioned differently. The house (in my belief) hears you. Treat it with kindness and gratitude for the shelter it provides. I say thank you to the house spirits and my home every morning.

-Find a convenient home protection ritual to do each month. I say convenient because if you overcomplicate things you'll feel less enthusiastic and less motivated to do it, and might even skip several months.

-Make a home cleansing spray using essential oils mixed with an appropriate amount of moon water. I like using a few drops of lemon, rosemary, lavender, and cinnamon. DO NOT spray this in the vicinity of your pets. I only use this spray in rooms where there arent any animals, to avoid complications with their health.

-Wash your bedding as often as you can and say a short incantation before you put it in the wash. It could go something like this. "I cleanse this bedding of all negative energy, from bad dreams, and from and all stress." Sleep is so important to your sense of safety and wellbeing at home.

-Open the damn windows when you can! Stagnant energy is known for dragging down people's moods. And there's nothing quite as uplifting as fresh air. This provides a healthy flow to your house's energy.

-Don't bring things in your home unless you want to incorporate their energy into your environment. This is something that's often overlooked. I especially advise heavy consideration when it comes to thrifting items and bringing them home. Try practicing sensing the energy of items so you can easily tell whats good to bring home and whats not. Thrifting is great! Im not discouraging it btw.

-Fresh flowers work miracles. Not only do they aesthetically brighten the room, but their correspondences and magical properties apply to the room that they're in. Sunflowers are a great example of a flower that encourages positivity, and are extremely affordable to get lots of them. Roses are a bit more expensive usually, but they invite that loving vibe. And African irises are great for psychic enhancement.

Thats all for this post! Reblog it if you found it helpful, or have any of your own cool practices for hearth & home witchcraft to share!

[thehighladywrites]

— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

[bratzforchris]

Five Love Languages, M. Sturniolo

Summary: The five love languages look a little different for Matt and his girlfriend, but that's always okay<3

Pairing: Matt x neurodivergent fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic burnout, this is entirely self indulgent

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I think we need more representation around here, especially for different neurotypes and disabilities <3 This fic is based off of this Instagram post :) I am autistic and have ADHD, and this was so much fun to write--if you'd like to see the same thing but for another boy, drop a request in my inbox!

Infodumping༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“Matt, come here! Now!” You squealed from your shared bedroom, your joy infectious as you bounced up and down on the bed happily. 

You could hear the sound of your boyfriend running up the stairs, followed by him bursting through the door, slightly out of breath. “What’s up, honey?” he asked with a smile, noting your happy stims and luminous grin. 

“Taylor’s going on tour!” You giggled, shaking your hands in small fists as a way to release all the happy, all-consuming energy that came with engaging in a special interest. 

“Oh really?” Matt asked genuinely, sitting beside you on the bed. “Tell me more, hun!” he encouraged you, kissing your cheek gently so as not to get in the way of your movements. 

“It’s going to be a tour where she goes through every era,” You smiled, happily bouncing on the bed. “We have to go.”

“We will,” Matt rubbed your knee softly. “As many dates as you want.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up at the thought of getting to experience your special interest with your favorite person. 

“Really, honey. What album are you most excited to hear?”

Matt looked at you kindly, his eyes shining with love. He absolutely loved watching how excited you got over your special interests. You had been a huge Taylor Swift fan for over ten years now, and the brunette wished that he could bottle up your happiness whenever you engaged with her music. He would almost equate your joy to that of sunshine, baby animals, and glitter. Where some people thought you were “just a fangirl” or “too obsessed”, Matt loved listening when you infodumped about Taylor Swift. The sheer dedication someone could have to a singular topic was beyond impressive and adorable to him. 

“That’s really hard, Matt,” You whined playfully, still happily stimming and flapping your hands. “I really like Lover a lot because it reminds me of you, but I also want to hear reputation because it’s just so iconic. Like the whole snake aesthetic after the Kim and Kayne thing was just perfect. But then I also love folklore because of the love triangle thing and also because it’s just so experimental. Did you know that there was only eleven months between Lover and folklore?” You asked your boyfriend, becoming more animated as you spoke. 

“I didn’t know that!” Matt responded, clearly very invested in the conversation. “Here hun, why don’t you play with this instead? I don’t want you to hurt your wrists, sweetie.” he explained softly, passing you a fidget toy that was laying on your nightstand.

You blushed as you took the toy from him, not even realizing just how bad your wrists were hurting. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?” You asked him, slowly crawling across the bed and into his lap. 

“I think I had an idea or two.” Matt smirked. 

You began to play with the fidget toy with one hand and Matt’s hair with the other. You still felt the need to stim, your nervous system buzzing with happiness. Whenever you felt the need to fidget, you loved to mess with your boyfriend’s hair, and he always let you. The way his soft, brown curls slid through your fingers and the way his natural highlights hit the light gave you such good sensory feelings. 

“Thank you for listening to me…I know it’s a lot sometimes.” You whispered shyly, hiding your face against his hoodie. 

Matt rubbed circles on your back as you played with his hair. “I love listening to you talk Taylor, baby. I think it’s interesting.” he grinned. 

“You do?”

“I do,” he booped your nose. “I think it’s cute too.”

“Do you think she’s gonna go era by era?” You asked, still too excited to focus on much else besides your special interest. “I hope so. That would be so much fun.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me everything,” Matt giggled. “I can’t be one of those boyfriends who goes and looks miserable.”

You squealed, untangling your hands from his hair and planting a kiss on his lips. “Oh hun, you’re gonna be the most educated boy in the stadium. You’ll know more Taylor lore than Taylor

Parallel Play ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed happily, pulling your blanket closer around yourself and taking a sip of your coffee. Thankfully, Matt had a completely free day with nothing to film, which meant you could just enjoy each other’s company. These days were few and far between, but you treasured every one because of how unmasked and free they allowed you to be. 

You sat your mug down on the coffee table and picked up the yarn and crochet hook you had set out earlier. Matt sat at the other end of the couch, feet in your lap as he focused intently on his book. You felt your heart swell with love as you took a peek at the cover, and noted that it was a memoir about understanding and aiding your partner in their unmasking journey.

Matt was by far the best boyfriend you had ever had when it came to accepting and loving you, neurodivergence and all. Finding a man who didn’t fetishize or infantilize being an autistic woman was hard, but the brunette was a diamond in the rough. Like right now for example, when he was spending his Saturday morning that he had off learning about how to understand the way your brain worked.

You blushed and picked up your crocheting, beginning to work on the blanket you had started earlier in the week. You had picked a chenille yarn in pretty pastel colors, and the rainbow of yarn, as well as its soft feel made you smile. You began to crochet, taking a peek at Matt every so often. Occasionally, your boyfriend would look up at the same time and catch your eye, sending you a soft smile before going back to reading. 

The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. Matt had a way of making you feel loved and safe, even without speaking the words out loud. Having grown up with his own mental health struggles around anxiety, your boyfriend understood the importance of “being alone together” and just existing in each other's orbit, without the need for words. 

“Thank you.” You whispered shyly after about thirty minutes of silence. 

“For what?” Matt asked you, closing the book and setting it on the pillow next to him. 

You sat down your craft as well and moved to snuggle into his arms, angling yourself so that you could hear the beat of his heart. “For just letting me be me.”

The brunette buried his nose in your hair, speaking softly against his head. “I love you.”

“You just let me be and we can do our own things without feeling awkward or weird,” You explained. “It’s comforting…and it makes me fall more in love with you.” You giggled softly, a blush creeping up your neck.

Matt held you closer to his body, arms wrapped around you protectively. “You’re perfect, baby. All of you.”

As you snuggled further into his hold, the two of you fell into companionable silence again, enjoying each other’s company. It really was the little moments like these that made you realize just how lucky you were to be in such an accepting, caring relationship. 

Support Swapping ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Over the past year of dating Matt, you had fallen into a wonderful routine with your boyfriend, one that allowed you to distribute your spoons more easily and allowed him a slight break from his anxiety, especially socially. 

“Support Swapping” as you two called it was great help and was arguably one of the best parts of your relationship. Being autistic and having ADHD, you tended to struggle with executive functioning, always focusing on the wrong things instead of doing what you needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. If you were hyperfixated on something, your mind could block out all reminders and signals from your body to eat, drink, rest, and use the bathroom. Once you finally realized how depleted you were, it would inevitably lead to an autistic meltdown because of the overwhelming sensory urges of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst. 

Matt, on the other hand, oftentimes struggled with parts of his job that came along with being a content creator. As much as he loved being in front of the camera and giving the fans funny content, he despised writing and sending emails. Nick could edit out anything that made him seem a little too weird or awkward; he couldn’t control how the recipient would take his email. You however, had loved writing ever since you were a little girl and actually took great pride in being able to communicate effectively through the written word. 

When you had voiced these concerns with each other and how they made both of you feel emotionally, it was clear there was only one option, and that was to support each other, just like you were on this particular day. It was nearing dinnertime by this point, the sun setting over the LA skyline as you tapped at the computer in Matt’s office. You had been hunched over the computer all day, filling out paperwork and emails for collabs that Matt had to do. You typed up all the notes for him, pasting them into a document, where he could then sign his name and send them off. Between your love of the written word and routine, writing the same thing over and over again was like a weird therapy for you. 

“Sweetheart?” You heard a soft knock at the door before Matt entered the room. 

“One sec.” You hummed, eyes still trained on the screen. “I’m almost done.”

“Babe,” Matt spun you around in the office chair so that you were facing him. “I love you and I adore you for doing this for me, but it’s almost seven. Time for dinner.” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips. 

“Oh,” You blushed, not realizing how much time had gone by. Just then, your stomach rumbled, making Matt give you a knowing look. “This is why we help each other and remind each other.” You snorted, facepalming yourself softly. 

Matt kissed your forehead gently, helping you out of the chair and guiding you towards the kitchen with a soft hand on the small of your back. Before you two left the office, though, he sneakily closed out your computer, making sure you would spend the rest of the evening resting. Your heart swelled when you walked into the kitchen and saw your and Matt’s small dining table completely laid with dinner and drinks. 

“You didn’t.” You smiled, turning towards your boyfriend. 

“I did,” Matt picked you up and kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I know how distracted you can get when you’re working, sweetheart.”

You blushed as Matt sat you down at the table, knowing he was absolutely right. “You take care of me so well.” 

Matt rubbed your knuckles softly as he sat down in his own chair. “That’s what a partnership is for,” he smiled, the adorable crinkles around his eyes that you loved oh-so-much on full display. “We take care of each other.”

"Please Crush My Soul Back Into My Body" ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed, growing restless as you shifted around in the backseat of the van. The triplets were filming their weekly Friday car video, and you had decided to join on this particular day. You absolutely loved playing Over/Under, but the effects of the evening were beginning to wear on you. Between Chris frequently changing topics to almost anything that wasn’t Over/Under and Nick’s yelling, you were starting to become overstimulated. 

You shifted, trying to pull your hoodie off since it was starting to irritate you, only to loudly smack your arm on the hard, plastic door of the car. All three boys looked your way, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asked with a chuckle, but his eyes held a concerned look. 

“Mhm,” You nodded, trying not to let your frustration show. “Just a little too hot.”

“We should finish up. Nick’s second timer has already gone off.” Matt turned in his seat and stretched, trying to discreetly end the video. 

Matt knew you almost as well, if not better than you knew yourself, and he could tell that you weren’t super comfortable, despite your best efforts to hide it. Even he had to admit that Chris’s frequent change of topics and Nick’s yelling was getting to be a lot, so he couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling. Luckily, his brothers seemed to take the hint, and the boys swiftly ended the video, with you whispering a little ‘bye’ in the background. 

As your boyfriend began to try towards the triplets' LA home, you shoved your earbuds into your ears, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window. You were overstimulated and exhausted, and the next person to add to sensory overload was going to catch it if you didn’t try to calm yourself. You were so caught up in the awful feelings taking over your body and your anxiety that you didn't even notice that Matt had pulled into the garage and Nick and Chris had vacated the car until your boyfriend turned in his seat, patting your knee. 

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly. 

“No…” You mumbled, trying not to choke on tears. “Too much.”

Matt understood what you meant and gently helped you out of the car and into the house without another word. On the way to your shared bedroom, he quietly shushed Nick and Chris, mumbling a little ‘overstimulated’. Both brothers were aware of you being autistic and immediately piped down, silently feeling terrible for you. 

Your boyfriend sat you down on the edge of the bed, handing you a fidget toy from off your nightstand. Despite the discomfort you were experiencing, you felt your heart swell as you watched Matt gently take off your socks and shoes, before standing up and looking at you. 

“Do you want your headphones?” he asked you in sign language. 

You could’ve cried right then and there because of your sheer love for Matt. Ever since you two had started dating and you had explained that you used ASL to communicate when you were feeling overstimulated, the brunette had taken it upon himself to learn as much of the language as possible. He was still rather beginner level, but it was the thought behind it that made you want to squeeze him and pepper his face with kisses. 

You nodded to his question, and Matt swiftly replaced your earbuds with better quality, noise canceling headphones. You sighed softly at the relief, standing up and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's waist. “Thank you,” You signed against his chest. “I love you.”

Matt hugged you back gently, almost like he was scared you would break. “Pajamas?” he asked again. 

You nodded once more, and your boyfriend gently helped you into soft, sensory approved pajama pants and one of his faded, soft shirts. You quietly got curled up under your weighted blanket as Matt bustled around the room, getting himself ready for bed, but the pressure wasn’t enough. You needed something more. As your boyfriend crawled into bed, you rolled over onto your side, tapping his shoulder gently. 

“Will you lay on me?” You signed. 

Matt smiled, kissing your forehead gently. He grabbed the remote and turned on your comfort show on the television, before laying his head softly on your stomach. You smiled and sighed contently at the feeling, running your fingers through his soft, brown curls. That was one of your favorite stims, and the feeling of Matt’s pressure, combined with stimming and noise canceling headphones, was slowly calming you down. 

Over the hour that followed, Matt softly laid more and more of his body weight over top of you. He knew that deep pressure therapy helped you regulate your nervous system, especially when you were overstimulated. If some extra love and cuddles would help, he wasn’t going to be the one to complain. Sure enough, by the time he looked up at you, you were fast asleep, a happy little smile on your lips. 

Penguin Pebbling ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Matt looked over at you from his position on the couch as you giggled, happily kicking your feet. “What’s so funny?” “Check your Tiktok.” You laughed, a happy little smile taking up residence on your face as you stimmed. 

Your boyfriend smiled at whatever antics you had going on, migrating to his phone. You let out a little giggle as you watched Matt’s facial expressions change, from that of confusion, to that of happiness. 

“You really sent me one hundred and fifty different cat videos?” he asked, though his tone was playful. 

“They reminded me of you,” You whined, throwing a stuffed animal at him. “You’re the one who always sends people images of sleeping kittens and says ‘that’s me’.”

Matt chuckled as he sat watching every single video. He knew how important sharing was to you, especially when it had to do with the people you cared about. “Penguin pebbling” as it was called, was the act of unconventional gift giving as a sign of affection. Your boyfriend absolutely loved when you did this, because it was pure love. It wasn’t big, expensive gifts or luxury vacations. It was the smallest, most accessible thing in the world, yet you took time out of your day to do it. 

“Have I ever told you I love you?” the brunette asked, sliding onto the floor beside you and kissing your cheek. 

“Maybe once or twice.” You grinned. 

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniee @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @mggcult @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @aemrsy @billsslutt

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[guxciestone]

🌊 ❛ YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE ༉‧₊˚ ˚୨୧

(pick a card reading)

🐠✧

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hi guys ♡ i hope you enjoy the reading because i worked hard on this one. for the physical appearance of your spouse, i used an app called facemix and used the celebrity look-a-likes to create their potential face.

if you have any suggestions for a tarot or astrology post, i would be more than willing to consider it. just drop it in the asks or in the notes. god bless you all, and thank you :)

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⋆ pile one ⋆

WHEN WILL YOU MEET THEM?

Immediately, for some of you, the person that you are with right now will be the person you’ll be engaged to. Another group of you, the person that you’ll marry is possibly a past partner. You’ll meet your partner at a time in your life where you are hoping to take back your power or gain clarity over a situation; this could involve finances or career goals. Around the time you both meet, one or both of you could be in higher learning ,such as college, or you will be young adults just trying to figure life out. You will probably be focused on getting back on your feet financially because I see instability with money (perhaps you are striving to pay college debt) or you losing a job or source of income around the time. Furthermore, you may be unsure about what career path you should take, and you’ll feel chaotic, confused, and directionless. It’ll feel like you aren’t in control of yourself and that you cannot pay attention to anything or anyone else but yourself at the moment. An older or mature male figure might help you with this, maybe a fatherly figure or mentor. They will encourage you and provide you the resources and materials to get back to your regular self again. You may appear a bit selfish, haughty, and reserved around this time, but it is only for the sake of getting yourself together. Ironically, this will be the time your future spouse will appear.

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HOW WILL YOU MEET THEM?

One or both of you will experience love at first sight when you meet, or there will already be love from the beginning. This shows me that for a group of you, this is a past partner coming back into your life. You could meet your future spouse at the library or a friendly meet-up; for another group of you, you could meet on a dating app. Because I see that there is an initial attraction between both of you on the first impression–you could immediately go on a date after swiping right on each other. The people with the ex, you may intentionally meet up with this person for some reason, maybe you are interested in them again, and you would still feel somewhat an attraction towards them, but there is a repulsion too–as if you do not want to try again with them. Also, do not be discouraged about this person and starting a connection them–if it is an ex-partner, be open to giving this person another chance and see how this time goes, if you are willing–because I see that some of you still aren’t happy with them, but this connection with them is significant. They might feel the exact way on their end too, so I feel like there would be a bit of a quiet period after seeing each other after a while, and then you’ll both start seeing each other again. For the ones with new people, you’ll likely go on a first date with them when you first physically meet them. I see that you’ll think they are a bit cold, distant, or uninterested on the first impression, but I don’t think they intend to come off this way. I feel like you’ll have so many butterflies for this person. You may have been excited to go on this date with them, and you almost felt disappointed that they came off this way, but I don’t think this is who they really are. About the older or mature male figure I mentioned before, for a small portion of you, this could be them.

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WHAT IS YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM?

You are extremely attracted to this person, but there is a degree of holding back for some reason. If it is an ex, it could be due to the fear of running back into past issues in the connection and the baggage that came with it. If it is a new person, it could be that you feel you aren’t ready for a new person to come into your life. Once again, your future spouse gives you “butterflies”, they make you feel so excited and thrilled. I believe you are inspired by them or respect them in some way. They could be everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. You could be in a better space to go on this date with them, but I believe you’ll feel you still aren’t ready to partake in a new relationship, let alone a connection with an established and ideal person like them. You could suggest to this person if they can wait for you, but also suggest that they do not have to. The more you get to know them on the meetup or over time, you’ll start to notice that they are incredibly understanding, caring, intelligent, and nurturing–especially if this is the person who helped you in the past. They appear to be a delicate and patient individual too; they are not going to rush you or come off too strong. Furthermore, you may notice that they have slow movements and mannerisms, and they physically take their time in doing things. They might be a bit quiet or precise in their words at first, but you know that they are eloquent.

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WHAT IS THEIR PERSONALITY LIKE?

Your future spouse is a responsible, frugal, and level-headed person. They may be financially stable, or they are particularly excellent in managing money. Perhaps they are involved in a career involved in finance; also heard a career in “communications”, which explains how eloquent they are in their speech and presentation. They are not usually the type to give their money or possessions away unless it is necessary; for example: if they are giving back to the community, for loved ones, or genuinely helping others. They could be persistent, logical, and hardworking. However, it seems like they are never fulfilled in what they do. They could be a perfectionist or feel as though no matter how successful they are, it is never enough. Honestly, they seem very career and money-oriented. Although they are helpful and knowledgeable for others, there could be times where they can be a bit compulsive or controlling–feeling the need to handle everything on their own. Your future spouse may have obsessive compulsive disorder. This person may not appear like this, but they are a hopeless romantic. They love idealizing and imagining what it is like to be in love; however, they struggle with pursuing those imaginations and actually being in love. They might find it hard to go out, enjoy themselves, and have fun. They could be more introverted and not have as many close friends. They could appear insensitive or emotionless on surface level; but they have a whirlwind of love and emotions to offer. They seem like someone who needs to learn how to love, accept love, and experience love.

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WHAT IS THE MARRIAGE AND CHEMISTRY LIKE?

You will marry your future spouse a short while after you get involved with them; I mean the type of relationship where you are together for only a year, and suddenly someone pops the question. It is ironic because I see a bunch of waiting before getting into an actual connection with this person, but as soon as you are serious, it all happens in one minute. 7 years is significant here–this could be the age gap, the time of marriage or being in a relationship with this person, or the years of separation. This marriage will honestly feel like a “honeymoon” phase in a nutshell. I feel like one or both of you did not have hope for this relationship, especially for the ones with the ex. You believed that this wouldn’t work out, but you will genuinely surprise each other with how everything turned out. This connection will feel magical for the both of you, like both of your dreams for love came true. If this is your ex, you’ll notice that both of you function way better together than before. There will be healthy communication in this relationship, no holding back on each other’s feelings and words. In the past, there could have been abuse, violence, or miscommunication that caused the relationship to wreak havoc. Furthermore, for the ones with new partners, there is a need to try to resist self-sabotage and bring up insignificant problems. It’ll only ruin an opportunity and a good relationship for the both of you.

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POTENTIAL CELEBRITY LOOK-A-LIKES

Jessica Alba, Jennifer Aniston, and Angela Bassett.

Channing Tatum, Prayag, and Idris Elba.

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POTENTIAL APPEARANCE USING FACEMIX

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚

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⋆ pile two ⋆

WHEN WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You are going to meet your future spouse at a time in your life where it feels like you have bad luck in love, or love is not coming to you as quickly. You might meet them around a time when you are going to an event–it could be a prom, wedding, party, or some sort of gathering. There could be a specific moment in which you asked someone out to this event, or perhaps you expressed your true intention and feelings to them, and you were rejected. You might have been involved with this person for a while; you have given them all of you with the hope that maybe this will turn into something serious and special. They made you bitter and quite regretful of even giving them that type of effort and attention in the first place. It left you shattered, pessimistic, and quite hopeless about finding the right person for you. Around this time, you’ll feel impatient with the universe in finding the right one for you; you’ll feel close to giving up and accepting that love isn’t for you. It is important for you to continue looking at the bright side around this time because it’ll feel like the universe is working against you when it comes to romance. You have to understand that love comes when you least expect it, so make sure to focus on yourself and your aspirations and it’ll soon appear in your life because this special person is worth waiting for. It’ll take a while before you meet them or turn into anything serious with them, but it is definitely worth it. You might particularly be more social around the time you meet your future spouse as well. You are creating more friendships, putting yourself out there, and being more willing to go out to certain occasions.

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HOW WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You could meet your future spouse in an outside setting, specifically at night or in the afternoon. It is an event or occasion, such as party or celebration of some sort. It is rather an informal occasion among friends and associates. You are going to have fun and enjoy yourself at this event, even to the point where you are drinking or indulging in yourself. You aren’t going to have a care in the world about anyone or anything; you are just living in the moment. Throughout the night, you will meet your future spouse from pure coincidence and enjoyment. It could be that you are a bit under the influence so you are more open and out of it, and I see them as well. It is like over time at the event, you both eventually get so close to each other it is almost out of nowhere. They might even try to get flirty with you, but you are playing hard to get or you are full blown rejecting them just because. However, you both are getting to know each other and enjoying the time you have together and soon you both exchange contacts. Furthermore, you both may start off as playful friends before anything else. It’ll feel like bliss spending time with each other; you may meet up with them for fun activities and friendly dates.

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WHAT IS YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM?

You will view them as youthful, playful, and humorous. They definitely know how to make you laugh and enjoy yourself. They could be the life of the party, and you might think they are surprisingly very kind and generous. You’ll definitely find them physically attractive, but you might try to hide it. There is an emphasis on how hilarious they are. You will notice how entertaining they are, and you might even think they are a bit ignorant, but you are excited around them. It seems like your spouse is extremely welcoming too, you will realize that you can let your guard down very easily with them, especially if you became friends with them quickly at a random party. You will also think they are respectful (if they are a male, a gentlemen) You’ll admire how they can easily bring people together; you might see them being the ray of light at the party and bringing everyone in an uppity mood. However, you could tell that they are impulsive and chaotic at times. Sometimes it seems like they do not know how to sit down or bring the intensity of their personality down a notch. Perhaps there was a fight at the event in which they were involved.

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WHAT IS THEIR PERSONALITY LIKE?

You might have already met this person by the way, in some way, shape, or form. Your future spouse is a spontaneous, thrilling, and exhilarating individual. They seem like they are always searching for the next big thing to experience. However, they also have a soft side. They have a delicate and understanding nature to themselves. Their mother figure or feminine figure is prominent in their life; perhaps they grew up with a single mother, or they were just closer to her growing up. Your spouse is accepting and compassionate towards anyone. They are respectful and have manners when it is expected of them, and they value treating others accordingly. They are creative and artistic too. They could be interested in digital art, computer design, or game developing–anything along the lines of art and technology. They could love gaming as a hobby, or that could be a career they are hoping to pursue. Their career may not be the most financially reliable; so it could be an unconventional career such as the ones above–for some of you, they could be pursuing music. Furthermore, your future spouse values honesty. They dislike liars and false promises; as they are themselves, they expect honesty and truth from you. They are also someone who keeps on their promises no matter what. Therefore, they are definitely emotionally reliable. For some of you, they could have grown up as an orphan or come from an unstable family background. It could seem like this person is unwilling to settle in one place, or settle on one aspiration. They could desire to take on multiple things at once. Your future spouse may have green eyes or red hair.

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WHAT IS THE MARRIAGE AND CHEMISTRY LIKE?

In this marriage with your future spouse, it is possible that the both of you do not plan to have children, or at least, start a conventional family. Perhaps you might consider buying pets or adopting children instead. There is a special dynamic with you and your spouse. It seems like you are a rational, mature, and intelligent individual in the marriage–you might handle the logical issues and problems in the relationship. On the other hand, your future spouse is rather emotional, intuitive, and sensitive and handles the emotional issues and problems in the relationship. Although you both are complete opposites, you compliment each other very well. When your spouse needs order and practicality, you’re there; when you need vulnerability and a safe haven, they’re there. The chemistry is powerful yet complimentary. You both seem to be a well-off team, especially if you both do decide to have kids or pets, you will both know how to handle both sides of the responsibility. However, there are times when your personalities do clash, especially when it comes to finances and career choices. Again, your future spouse could be hoping to pursue a rather creative or unconventional career and it could cause a blockage in the marriage at some point due to financial mix-ups. It could seem like that this would entirely get in the way of the marriage, but the key is balance and satisfying both sides of the relationship. You may want convenience and financial stability, and your spouse wants passion and art in their life; the settlement is to satisfy both of your desires. Additionally, you both are super nurturing of each other in your own way–always picking each other in your own harsh times. Genuinely, I see that for most of you will adopt or give back to children in the foster care system in some way; this could be a huge desire for your spouse.

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POTENTIAL CELEBRITY LOOK-A-LIKES

Jesse Eisenberg, Michael Ealy, and Morris Chestnut

Adriana Lima, Lori Harvey, and Amerie

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POTENTIAL APPEARANCE USING FACEMIX

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ੈ✩‧₊˚

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⋆ pile three ⋆

WHEN WILL YOU WILL MEET THEM?

You will meet your future spouse around a time where you are breaking out of your comfort shell and hoping to try new things in life. Most of you could be homebodies, or you prefer to stay in your usual hometown or routine. You could be an introvert; and around this time, you are going to feel this urge to explore, learn new things, go to different places, and share special moments with others. It could be possible that some of you are hoping to reconcile with family members around this time; perhaps you might consider going to a family reunion or event. You will pursue family stability and order. Perhaps you will try to make amends with a parent or sibling–hoping to develop a connection with them again and get closer. Some of you might consider traveling out of your usual state and going to thrilling and spontaneous events. It gives me the energy that you are just tired of staying in one place and just letting life pass you by, so you will be striving to find excitement and the opportunity to learn and enjoy yourself around the time you meet your future spouse.

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HOW WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You could meet your future spouse through a family-related event, or at an occasion where most of your family members and loved ones are. You might already know your future spouse in a spiritual sense; you both could have been in a past-life relationship with each other, so as soon as you meet, there will be instant allure towards each other. However, I do not think it’ll immediately be romantic, there might be instant chemistry though. It could be that most of you are more sheltered or you prefer to stick to yourself for the most part. You might not be that comfortable opening up to people on the first impression, so it could look like you shut people out. Your future spouse could be a family friend–they might be associated with one of your family members, and you could be introduced to them or you meet them at that particular family event. This could take place outside of the home where there are bushes and nature. When you meet them, you will be attracted to them in a sense of wanting to get to know them more, but I do not immediately see any romantic attraction; you both will just be willing to talk to each other and figure each other out. You will both have immediate chemistry–I just see you both sitting close to each other sharing personal stories and sharing laughs with each other. You might be a bit distant with this person, but you seem to be more willing to let your guard down to at least try to make a friend, but there isn’t anything romantic yet. You could feel indecisive about continuing to talk to this person at first too.

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WHAT IS YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM?

You will view your future spouse as a confident, assertive, and friendly individual. You’ll notice that they might open up to you quickly; they might immediately talk about vulnerable or personal things with you, and you might just go along with it. You might start to feel comfortable enough yourself to open up to them along the way. They might smile a lot, and it could make you safe or warm inside, like you know they are a genuine and kind person to be around. They could be one or two years younger than you, or they happen to have a youthful personality. However, they might mention their career endeavors or what they do for a living and you’ll notice that they are well-educated. they seem to have their life together, or they know what they want out of life. You’ll realize that they hold knowledge, and they are very calming and meditative. They seem like someone who takes life seriously, but not too seriously. You might look up to them for this because you might be the complete opposite; they may even give a talk about it and give you an epiphany about how you managed your life thus far. You’ll develop a quick connection with this person as a friend, even if it is not romantic just yet. You will feel like you’ve known this person already because there is a past-life connection drawing you both back into each other.

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WHAT IS THEIR PERSONALITY LIKE?

Your future spouse is very intelligent and holds a bunch of knowledge (perhaps academically and from life experiences) They could have glasses or blue eyes. They’ve undergone many transformations and changes in their life so far, and they are able to reflect and learn from past mistakes and issues and become a better person. Your spouse will hold many lessons, and they will be willing to teach you as well. They are always open to helping others by spreading what they learned. This person seems very therapeutic in a way. They might have a career in psychology, health, or learning. Furthermore, they are often taking care of and helping others too, especially when it comes to mental issues and personal problems; they could also be a doctor or nurse. Sometimes, it could feel like this person carries many burdens for people, perhaps in the past it caused a bunch of stress for them and even led them to a dark and stressful path. Ever since, they’ve learned to find balance and order in their life. This makes your future spouse also an emotionally intelligent, calming, and relaxed person. They’ve learned to not take anything as serious for the sake of their wellbeing too. They are generous, giving, and selfless; they may have been taken advantage of for their kindness in the past. They have a good balance of kindness and self-esteem. They are also self-assured and hardworking. They are determined and ambitious when it comes to their goals and are often self-focused. Additionally, your future spouse is huge on fairness and others receiving what they deserve . They are willing to stand up for others and perhaps do not appreciate bullies or hateful people; they could strive to stand up for you. You might be relatively more soft-spoken than your future spouse.

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WHAT IS THE MARRIAGE AND CHEMISTRY LIKE?

You will have a quiet, comforting, and rejuvenating marriage with your future spouse. You both could be particularly private or perhaps to keep your affairs under the radar; you both could be more of introverts. You and your spouse will love to spend time together indoors, such as watching movies, drawing (perhaps you or your spouse likes art), singing, listening to music, and many other things. Both of you, especially your spouse, will cherish this marriage accordingly because they value and care for each other so much. You might have one child with them, particularly a girl or a boy with feminine energy. it ‘ll be difficult for others to get in touch with both of you because you both might decide to travel and go places together without anyone knowing. You prefer alone time with no distractions with each other. Your future spouse will give the strength and courage you never thought you had–for some of you, you might be twin flames because there is a sense of completeness when you are with them. They could have a lighter hair color. Furthermore, you both are respectful to each other; if you or them prefer to take this connection or marriage slow then the wish is granted. For some of you, you might wish to take things slow in regards to having children, physical intimacy, or getting married with your partner–and they’ll be understanding towards you about it.

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POTENTIAL PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Andrew Garfield, Timothee Chalamet, and Morris Chestnut

Drew Barrymore, SZA, Beyonce, Naya Rivera, and Brittany Murphy

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POTENTIAL APPEARANCE USING FACEMIX

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ੈ✩‧₊˚

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⋆ pile four ⋆

WHEN WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You will meet your future spouse during a time of unrest. It may seem like an overwhelming or stressful time for you, almost like you cannot take a break. It’ll be hard for you to gain mental clarity on important things. Additionally, some of you may be dealing with a toxic connection around the time you meet your spouse–perhaps it is a toxic relationship, friendship, family member, or environment. You could be taken advantage of, and you are fully aware of it. It will honestly drain you, and it’ll make you feel stuck and pressured. It is in the matters of you learning how to stand up for yourself and know your worth around this time because you seem like a generous and giving person, almost to a fault. There could be a theme of nostalgia, childhood, or memories around the time as well. You could reconnect with friends or partners from the past too; it’ll give you the ability to look back in time and reflect and bask in the good old memories. However, for some of you, this particular person coming back–or the toxic connection or person that is associated with you around the time–may not have the best intentions. They could be using you for finances or materials. Furthermore, you will be financially abundant around this time too, so make sure to hold onto your materials responsibly and with pride.

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HOW WILL YOU MEET THEM?

Your future spouse could be someone you know already. Perhaps they are a childhood friend who has come back into your life, or they are a friend of a friend–they are within your social circle. This could be a situation in which you were friends with this person for a while, and you would’ve never thought you would like it that way. This is especially considering that your spouse may not be your usual type. There is this slow burn happening between the both of you. It seems you will both slowly get closer to each other over time, and suddenly, one of you will eventually begin to have a crush on the other. In particular, you will have a special crush on this person. It will hit you right in the face, and you will be shocked that you like this person. This could be a third party situation for some of you; there is a third person in the picture perhaps. It is possible that someone could be in a toxic relationship or a regular relationship while crushing on the other person. Whether it is you or them, you will be called to make a decision to either leave this person and be with your spouse, or stay with your person and not have a future with your spouse. Someone is not a good person to keep around; someone is trying to financially control you–-I just cannot tell if it is your future spouse or your partner around the time, but it is weird and confusing. It could be a family member? I am not sure. It is someone.

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WHAT IS YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM?

You will view your future spouse as someone who is proud of themselves. On the first impression, you could immediately take notice of how abundant or financially well-off they appear. Perhaps they are wearing jewelry, designer brands, or flamboyant accessories. They might easily catch your attention in the room. You might think this person seems arrogant, full of themselves, or spoiled. This explains why you might not think this person is your usual type, or you won’t be as initially attracted to them. However, you’ll admire how confident and successful they seem. They seem like they are a notable person and worked hard for their abundance. Nevertheless, you will not like how bossy or bratty they may appear. This person may offer you something when they first meet you, or they will try to impress you with their materials. You could reject them or show that you are not interested at all. Honestly, you will not like them at first because they brush you off the wrong way entirely.

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WHAT IS THEIR PERSONALITY LIKE?

Your future spouse is a flamboyant, larger-than-life type of person. They are excessive in their fashion or expenses, and they could be a huge drama queen. This could be hilarious in some cases, but it may get irritating for you. I wish I could say that this is a good future spouse, but I am not getting that energy–sorry. First, they are super dramatic–almost to an annoying degree. They may nag a lot, and brag about unnecessary things. They are good at making themselves appear like they are everything in one, but they could be genuinely good at hiding things and making themselves seem like someone they are not. Not to mention, this person is cunning and fairly methodical and intelligent. They are a deliberate planner; however, they might not use it for good. They might be comfortable stealing from others–maybe even from you. Your spouse is someone who wishes for the grand things in life–the luxuries, the popularity, and all of that. They seem very materialistic. They could be the type of person who tries to cover up their insecurities and fears through money, status, or power. The worst part about it is that they may be aware of it considering how smart they are; they just seem like they may struggle with working on it, like it is a huge problem for them. Because they are self-aware for sure. This is giving narcissist vibes. This person could have lots of willpower. They might do anything to get what they want, even if it means stepping over someone they “care” about. They could be dangerous, so please be careful. This person will give you red flags at first. They might splurge you with money and make it seem like they are everything you want in a partner, but then slowly they’ll reveal themselves. They might start trying to control your financial decisions, become possessive and wonder where you have been all night, things like that. There is a strong relationship with this person and money. This person is giving huge fraud vibes. They are weird; like they seem nice, but then they are terrible? I am not sure about them.

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WHAT IS THE MARRIAGE AND CHEMISTRY LIKE?

This marriage will seem like a connection that shows off an image to the public and is completely different behind closed doors. Your spouse is someone who likes to keep up with appearances and appear the best they possibly can, even with people they associate with. They may encourage you to do this too. This person is confusing because one minute they seem like they are a good partner, but then another minute they are a bad partner. They could be encouraging of you to build your career and finances; they might help with your image and opportunities. Again, this person is methodical and cunning, so they know how to help themselves and others climb the ladder. Your future spouse could be using you as a source of money or career success. This is weird. I hope this isn’t true for you guys, but this person is basically using you to get what they want in life. They try to appear like they are helping you for the better and get you to a good place, but in reality they are self-fulfilling. Those were the vibes I was getting earlier! They seem like the type to use their help against you and say things like “I made you!” or “You wouldn’t be here without me”, just narcissistic energy altogether. It’ll be incredibly hard to identify this person and whether they are good for you or not because they try to appear so almighty and like a savior, but it is honestly just an image. This person could be a twinflame; I believe they are here to teach you how to become more selfish, have more respect for yourself and your possessions–have more pride in your successes and set boundaries. Because while you are a selfless, giving, and generous person, your spouse can be the complete opposite: self-fulfilling, arrogant, and uncompromising.

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POTENTIAL CELEBRITY LOOK-A-LIKES

Chadwick Boseman, Ashton Kutcher, and Marlon Waynes

Miley Cyrus, Madeline Patsch, and Ciara

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POTENTIAL APPEARANCE USING FACEMIX

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ੈ✩‧₊˚

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⋆ pile 5 ⋆

WHEN WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You will meet the person you are going to marry around a time in which you are working in the hopes to improve your lifestyle and health; furthermore, you’ll be striving to achieve ultimate peace in your circumstances. It could be that around the time you meet your spouse, someone might have children because kids are definitely affecting the picture. It could be that you might be a single parent or they are. If you are the single parent, you will be investing your time and energy into providing a decent life for your children. Additionally, you could also be extremely focused on achieving your career aspirations around the time too–or this could be what you are focused on if you are not a single parent around the time. Additionally, it seems like you just will not have any time to dive into the realms of love–you might even neglect yourself of romantic experiences due to responsibilities or feeling as though you do not deserve it at the moment. For a few of you, it could be that you might not be getting the respect or recognition in your workplace around the time; it seems like you are not receiving the awards from all of the labor you have undergone. It is important for you to know your worth in the workplace around this time and learn to leave when you are not appreciated for your abilities. Some of you could be drawn to pile three too. It could be that this person could be a workplace crush or someone you took interest in; you may struggle with confessing your feelings to them due to fear and insecurity. However, you should definitely go for it and give it a try. Even if it does not land anywhere, have fun and “explore your options”.

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HOW WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You will take notice that your future spouse will appear around the time in which you give yourself the benefit of a doubt and take a break from all of the responsibilities and obligations you have landed upon yourself. If you happen to get stressed with your kids around the time, you may try to take vacation from being a parent for a while. Perhaps you may take a break from working yourself to death and go out to different and cool places. Honestly, it just seems like you are not in the right headspace–you struggle to collect yourself, you may be stressed, and things just seem like they are all over the place, so you or others may have figured you need time to recuperate and get back to a relaxed state. You will allow yourself to take time to take all of these burdens off of your shoulders. You will begin to feel like yourself again after this too. You will indulge in self-care, invest in your hobbies, and take time to enjoy the fruits of life. You may be someone who struggles with depression, anxiety, or low self-esteem so it may have been difficult for you to stay in the present and smell the flowers; this will be the perfect time for you, and also the time the person you will marry will appear. You may purposefully put yourself back out on the dating market–perhaps you may meet them on a dating app, social media, bars–any place in which you are purposefully trying to find a lover. You may get dressed up, groom myself, and put on your best accessories. Your confidence will be much better too. It is almost like you are taking control of your life again and are now able to control your outlook on things and let go. When you meet your spouse, they will come off very strong and dominant–not in a bad way, but more so of a powerful way.You’ll be taken by surprise. This could even be a blind date set up by a friend.

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WHAT IS YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM?

You will view your future spouse as someone who has “unwavering confidence”. This person will seem to be set on who they want and what they want. They know their standards, values, and desires, and you will find this particularly attractive about them. In fact, you might look up to them for their self-esteem. You will notice that they are firm on their beliefs and where they stand. They seem to handle chaotic situations very well, and they are mature. You may find this intimidating and you could feel like you could never amount to them, but that is nothing to be insecure about. It is possible that the first date or experience with them could be very out-of-place–perhaps the restaurant was crowded and your table reservation was canceled or something. You may be in a panic and struggle to get everything back in place, but your spouse knows how to handle situations like this–and they are even the type to calm you down and help you stabilize yourself. Your spouse could be this way because they may have to deal with chaotic energy on a daily basis–perhaps they are the ones who have children or their career demands being able to stay calm under pressure. It just seems like they have it all together. This person could be older than you. Not to mention, they are emotionally vulnerable and caring; they could be great with younger children and could be fond of them. They may have a daughter specifically. They are non judgemental, open-minded, and understanding of your struggles, insecurities, and fears. You may open up to them on the first impression too, and that's why you may view them this way. You will feel comfortable with them, but I see you may struggle to think that this is really who they are.

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WHAT IS THEIR PERSONALITY LIKE?

Your spouse values family, personal comfort, and security. It is possible that your spouse did not have a stable home environment growing up. Perhaps there was a single parent or they came from a low-income household. There is this theme of feeling as though they were not able to feel the full experience of having a soul group or people who they can consider home. They could be more of a homebody or they prefer to stay inside for the most part if it is with people they feel comfortable with. Furthermore, they are emotionally mature, and I am particularly hearing that they are faithful ( it is possible you guys could have trust issues due to witnessing infidelity in the past) They could be closer to their motherly figure and hold her dearly to their heart; they almost cherish their mom. Perhaps they were a single child, and the mother was the only one there in their childhood. It could also be a grandmother or an auntie if not. Furthermore, the person you will marry is patient and they approach connections with partners thinking about the long-term and their future. If your spouse is a male, they prefer to be the provider and give to their loved ones and be the head of the household, they are traditional. They will likely sacrifice anything for their family and loved ones, at any given chance. It is important not to take your person’s loyalty for granted because they are a diamond in the rough. If your spouse is a female, they may be fond of having children and could wish to provide for their loved ones with gifts, food, or meaningful items. Your spouse is fairly financially stable, and they prioritize their monetary assets too. They could adore gift-giving, but they spend wisely. However, your partner could also suffer from anxiety of some sorts too. They could have a fear of losing their security or stability, whether that be in terms of money or their sense of community. They’ve had to deal with losing people and loved ones in the past, and they refuse for it to happen again. But they are aware of this issue and they are trying to move on from the past and look forward to the future with the notion that things can be different. However, they know that the trauma will forever be there. They are really understanding themselves and willing to be understanding of the people they are interested in. They can be spiritual too.

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WHAT IS THE MARRIAGE AND CHEMISTRY LIKE?

This marriage with your spouse will thrive off of your vulnerabilities and insecurities. It will not be in a toxic or negative way, but more so you both will run off of each other’s motivation to rise above both of your fears and traumas. It seems like you both have this common ground fear of not feeling secure in your life or yourselves. Your spouse could struggle with the insecurity of not having community or personal security while you may struggle with not being enough or being incompetent. There is a mutual understanding of your deeper character in the marriage; you will both be very healing for each other and spiritually compliment each other very well. Together, you and your future spouse will realize how truly powerful you both are and how much you both can do with each other. You may have two or three more children with them if one of you are already parents. This is specific, but the marriage seems to be at its highest when undergoing pregnancy for some reason, like the connection is stronger and the chemistry is more powerful. It is almost that is the time you both come together the most to make things happen, especially for another human being.

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POTENTIAL CELEBRITY LOOK-A-LIKES

Miguel, Drake, Chris Brown, and Eminem

Amber Rose, Kelly Rowland, and Jhene Aiko

POTENTIAL APPEARANCE USING FACEMIX

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⋆ pile 6 ⋆

WHEN WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You are going to meet the person you will marry during a time in which you are struggling with your ego and sense of belonging. You will feel this need to take control over your life, circumstances, and actions; however, it seems that you will have an issue with doing so. For most of you, you could deal with low self-esteem or heavy confidence issues. It could be that you exact so much out of yourself to the point in which you could be susceptible to burnout, stress, or exhaustion. You’ll also have your guard up around this time. It just seems like you are battling demons (or let’s say, your inner shadow or conflicting sides) around the era in which you meet your future spouse. Perhaps you are highly focused on your career life, or prioritizing the future and your success to an unhealthy degree. Furthermore, there seems to be a conflict in your ambitions, passions, and professional decisions. You could be considering switching jobs or colleges around the time; it could be one of the hardest decisions for you around this time because this might have been a venture you have been dedicated yourself to for the longest. However, leaving a certain environment or letting go of a certain path will bring you rejuvenation and a new beginning. Additionally, I believe a bunch of you struggle with control issues. You expect everything and anything to go your way, and nothing can stray the perfect roadmap in your head. It is important to accept that life is unpredictable and to learn to let things be.

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HOW WILL YOU MEET THEM?

You could meet your future spouse through social media or through traveling shorter distances from your hometown (to a different city or state). It is possible that most of you could have a fear surrounding leaving what is familiar to you. Perhaps you refuse to see yourself living far from your home place or traveling to a different country. You might have wanted to try to get yourself out of your comfort zone by striving to travel somewhere a bit different than usual. The settings coming through are markets, parties, waterparks, dances, or community events. There could be a particular scenario in which your spouse (or you) could offer to pay for the other person's drink or food due to the fact that the other person didn’t have the money for it–something like that. Furthermore, you could meet this person through a business trip of some sort. You might travel somewhere for work purposes, and they could meet you through that for business too. You will not seem as open to starting a relationship nor making any friends when you meet your spouse. You are, in fact, might be trying to avoid anything like that from happening. You could be very serious for the most part about things.

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WHAT IS YOUR FIRST IMPRESSION OF THEM?

On the first impression, you will view your future spouse as an authoritative, professional, and eloquent person. They could appear well put together, especially in their clothing and appearance. They may be wearing a suit or very cordial wear. You might find them decently physically attractive; they could be a different race or ethnicity from you. You will believe they look very unique and exotic. Furthermore, you will get the energy that they work well with people. They are quite charming and know how to communicate and negotiate with others. They also are humanitarian and selfless. You may have witnessed them doing a charitable action on the first impression. They could have brown hair, or brownish-reddish hair. They may have a special piece of jewelry on–specifically a gold bracelet, earrings, or watch? They might put their hands in their pockets a lot, and they have a warm and generous smile. They are the average height for their gender. They also have “sincere eyes”.

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WHAT IS THEIR PERSONALITY LIKE?

Your spouse has excellent morals and a sense of jurisdiction. They have good control over themselves, their decisions, their character, and actions. They may be religious or come from a religious family; they could even wear religious-based clothing. They value being a good and kind person, which shows why they appear so charitable and humble. Your spouse may have money; however, I am specifically feeling that they may not be as financially well-off as you specifically. This could be important to you, or them. Your person is fully aware that they are in control of their destiny and how it goes, so they abide by the common law and go about life with fairness and a pure heart. They may have good karma in this life too because things seem to always work out for them. When things don’t, they always count their blessings and express their gratitude. They could actually be very devoted in their sense of spirituality. Your spouse is a people’s person; they like to go through things with the presence of their friends, loved ones, and people in general. At the same time, they are responsible for themselves and they know it. This person is humble because they are aware that they are a work in progress, and they should never get too comfortable in where they are in life.

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WHAT IS THE MARRIAGE AND CHEMISTRY LIKE?

This marriage has incredible amounts of potential. Your spouse could be a very important individual to your soul’s development and vice versa. First and foremost, this is a strong marriage that thrives off of improving, bettering yourselves as a person, and leveling up in the spiritual realm. There are huge themes of mutual understanding, communication, and balance in the relationship. Not to mention, this marriage will undergo many trials and tribulations; however, it has the willpower and undoubtable love between you two to make it work. The first issue that may come up in this connection is that there could be an “unrequited love” situation, or a situation in which one of the partners are constantly expecting so much from the other and it causing a strain in the connection. First off, I believe that this marriage is an opposites attracts scenario. You may be more serious, persistent in your career goals and ambitions, tend to push away the pleasures of life, and fear exploring beyond your comfort zone; your spouse could be more relaxed, consistent in goals but does not let them define who they are, indulges in the pleasures of life (especially when it comes to people and loved ones), and values change and transformation because they know they are a work in progress and there is so much more to come. You may find that you constantly critique your spouse over the smallest and subtle things. It could often make your spouse feel underappreciated and unloved in the connection and may cause a temporary separation. You may be more on the colder side already when it comes to expressing love and affection too, so that might not help. This calls for you to make the effort of showing that you love your spouse, and you will feel energy reciprocate back to you. It is important to not have so many expectations of people because you are projecting the expectations you have for yourself. Other than that, this marriage is full of devotion and spiritual guidance. The water or the ocean could be important for you or your spouse too.

POTENTIAL CELEBRITY LOOK-ALIKES

Christina Millian, Victoria Monet, and Nina Dobrev

Jack Harlow, Mac Miller, and Rob Kardashian

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POTENTIAL APPEARANCE USING FACEMIX

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[inthe-dark-tonight]

i'd rather die than give you control

boston era!joel x fem!reader

summary: you fuck up on a supply run, joel decides to teach you a lesson.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: E (18+ mdni!!!) porn w/o plot, joel is MEAN, light angst, dom/sub dynamics, little bit of brat tamer!joel, established “relationship”, oral (f & m receiving), face fucking, unsafe p in v, creampie, slight dacryphilia, light spanking, this has some dark themes so if that’s not your thing pls don’t read & let’s pretend that fucking on an abandoned couch on top of an old sleeping bag isn’t unsanitary okay???

notes: this idea came to me while listening to the song head like a hole by nine inch nails so it’s veryyyyyy slightly inspired by that, i’m honestly very nervous to post this but!!! here we go. thank you so much @javiscigarette for encouraging me to keep going with this and also beta reading for me i literally love you to pieces, and also a huge thank you to @ilovepedro for beta reading pieces of this for me as well MWAH <333

Joel hasn’t spoken to you since you got to the safe house hours ago. He’s not usually one to talk about how he’s feeling when he’s angry or upset, but lately you’ve been wishing he would. Wishing he would say more, do more after all the time you’ve known each other. But you know the moments you have together are nothing more to him than the need for both of you to take out your frustrations. You can’t help but still crave those intimate moments though. If you can even call them that. 

You’re in your sleeping bag on the couch and Joel is on the floor. Most times you two will sleep next to eachother while on a supply run, especially if there’s a bed, and always after he fucks you. When back in the qz, it's a little more complicated.

You roll over onto your side to face him, the moonlight casting just enough light into the room to see that he’s laying on top of his sleeping bag with his back to you. A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you watch his body move with each inhale and exhale. You won’t be able to sleep unless you talk to him. 

You sit up, contemplating for a second if this is a good idea before unzipping your bag and standing up from the couch. It feels like your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you slowly walk towards him, a knot forming in your stomach as you get closer. He hasn’t moved so you’re assuming you haven’t woken him up as you kneel beside him on the floor. You stare at him for a moment before speaking, eyes trailing over where his flannel is stretched over his broad shoulders. 

“Joel.” you whisper. He doesn’t even flinch. “Are you awake?” Your voice is still hushed. 

You reach your hand out to touch his bicep but freeze before making contact, afraid of what his reaction may be. Your hand finally rests on his arm, shaking him lightly. Now you can see that his eyes are open, but he still hasn’t turned to look at you. 

“Please talk to me…” you bite at your lower lip waiting for a response. 

A lump starts to grow in your throat as your mind replays the events of earlier that day. He was angry at you for not listening, there was no doubt about it, but you want nothing more than for him to talk to you now. 

“I’m sorry, what do I have to do for you to forgive me?” Your voice cracks slightly, trying to hold back your emotions as you speak.

Your chest starts to feel tight, the pain of him not saying a word is too much. You can handle him being angry with you, he sure as hell has been before, but if that means not talking to you at all you’re not sure how much you can take.

You take a deep breath and remove your hand from his arm before moving to lay down behind him. His body is radiating warmth as you lay only a few inches from him. Slowly you start to snake your arm around his torso, chest flush against his warm back. He still doesn’t say a word as you lay your cheek against him and start to rub your thumb back and forth over his soft, flannel covered stomach. 

“Joel.” You feel like tears could spill from your eyes any second now, hoping he’ll say something. Anything. 

You slowly move your hand lower, not worrying about what the consequences might be. All you want now is some sort of reaction from him, anything to show that he’s listening. Anything to get him to look at you. Your hand continues to move lower down to the waist of his jeans, just wanting to feel him. 

Suddenly, before you can even process, you feel his large calloused hand quickly wrap around your wrist. His head snaps towards you as he props himself up on his elbow, glaring down at where you lay. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He sounds pissed, maybe even more than earlier. He just stares back at you, your eyes wide in surprise. 

“I- I just-” you stutter, struggling to find words. 

“This isn’t how it works. Did you forget?” His jaw ticks as he lets go of your wrist, shoving it back towards you. 

He fully sits up now looking straight ahead and you shrink back into yourself, tears welling in your eyes, afraid of what he might say next. 

“I decide when and if this happens.” He’s breathing heavily. “You should know that by now.” 

“I know I-“ he cuts you off before you can finish your thought. 

“You obviously don’t.”

You swallow back the sob threatening to leave your throat. 

“Go sit on the couch.” his head falls to look at his lap as you scramble to stand up.

You don't dare to look back at him as you quietly walk back over to the couch. You take a seat in the middle with your hands on your lap as you wait for his next move. This is how the game usually goes. 

He shakes his head slightly before looking towards you, a darkness behind his eyes. “So now you want to listen?” 

He slowly gets up from his spot on the ground and turns towards you, standing there for a moment with his hands on his hips. His eyes are glued to the floor as he stands there for a moment thinking, but you can sense the anger behind them. As he looks up, walking towards you and stopping right in front of where you're sitting, you feel your chest start to tighten even more. You just stare down at your hands in your lap waiting for him to speak.

“Look at me.” His voice is low. 

Your head snaps up without hesitation to look into his eyes.

“Lay back, keep your hands above your head.” His accent sounds thicker than usual, voice gravely as he speaks. 

You do as he says, leaning back into the couch and raising your hands to grab the back of the couch. As you do so, Joel kneels down in front of you on the floor causing your legs to naturally part for him. He takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms under your knees, hands gripping your jean clad thighs before pulling you forward so your ass is at the edge of the couch causing you to let out a small yelp.

He keeps one of his hands on your thigh, the other moving to hover over your covered core. As he rests his large hand over your covered sex, warmth spreads through your lower stomach from the contact. He looks up at you through his lashes, dark eyes burning into yours. You feel a jolt of arousal through your core. 

His thumb grazes over the seam of your jeans, immediately finding your already sensitive clit. He knows you, knows your body even fully clothed, and that fact turns you on more. He lightly applies pressure with his thumb, rubbing in circles over your jeans. The sensation of the seam rubbing against you and the pressure of his thumb causes a moan to slip from your lips. 

“Joel…” he removes his hand from your clothed core, moving up towards the waist of your jeans. 

His rough calloused hand moves under the hem of your shirt, brushing lightly against the soft skin of your stomach. You shudder at the feeling, goosebumps covering your skin as you buck your hips up towards him. 

“Stay still for me.” He glances up at you again, it’s a warning, and your chest flutters. 

The anticipation is killing you. He moves both hands to unbutton your jeans, slowly sliding them down and off of you, leaving them in a pile at your feet. His eyes immediately lock onto the wet spot growing on your panties and a smug smile forms on his face.

“Already so fuckin’ wet, haven't even touched ya yet.” he hums, leaning in closer to your core.

He wraps one arm under your leg again, the other grabbing your waist to keep you from squirming. His nose rubs against the wet spot on your cotton panties and you bite the inside of your cheek, holding back a moan as you lightly clench your thighs around his head. Joel looks up at you again, the sight of him between your thighs so heavenly. You want nothing more than to reach out and bury your hands into his graying curls.

“Gonna listen and stay still for me baby?” His voice sends a vibration through your core as he tightens his grip on you. You struggle to keep still, nodding your head in response.

“Good, wouldn't wanna have to stop.” He's teasing you. 

He slides his hand from your hip down to hook a finger onto your underwear, tugging them down as he lifts your waist off the cushion. You suck in a breath as the cool air hits your soaked core. Joel doesn't waste any time, his hands are immediately back on you, fingers slotting through your glistening folds. He watches intently as his fingers easily slide up and down, covered in your slick. His face moves closer to you, warm breath fanning over your sensitive skin before replacing his fingers with his tongue. 

The feeling of his warm tongue darting out over your clit causes you to let out a moan. His tongue runs small circles around your nub, teasing you slowly before he licks through your folds. As he removes his mouth from you, you let out a gasp at the loss, but he quickly makes up for it by inserting two fingers into your cunt. 

“Oh god.” your head falls back on to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut and fingers gripping the edge of the couch harder.  

His pace starts to quicken, fingers curling to hit that spongy spot inside of you just right. He’s focused on his motions, mesmerized by the way his fingers disappear into your tight hole. His thumb starts to swirl in circles against your swollen clit and a soft whine escapes your mouth. 

“That feel good?” You don’t have the strength to answer. 

His free hand finds its way under your shirt to meet with your breast, fingers tweaking with your hardened nipple. Your eyes shoot back open, looking down at where he’s between your legs. His mouth is slightly parted as he watches you, watches your reaction to his movements and the way he’s touching you. You clench around his fingers, trying to hold back the urge to reach out and touch him. Trying to keep yourself still. The coil in your stomach is going to snap any second and he knows it. 

“Wanna come, baby?” He asks sweetly, so soft. 

“Please Joel, please.” You’re practically begging. 

He removes his hand from your breast and swings your leg over his shoulder, quickening his pace. His hand rests on your thigh lightly squeezing as he urges you on. He applies pressure with his 

“Close.” It’s all you can get out. 

The coil in your stomach is about to snap, Joel still isn’t slowing his pace, fingers hitting all the right places. He feels you clench around him one last time, and then suddenly you feel him pull away, the loss of his fingers causing your hips to buck forward. You let out a gasp as he abruptly drops your leg from his shoulder and stands up. 

Your eyes shoot open. “What the fuck?” You’re trying to catch your breath. 

“Did you really think I was going to let you come? After the stunt you pulled earlier?” He shakes his head, a sly look on his face as he watches you. 

Your mind flashes back to the supply run earlier that day as you clench your thighs together, hands dropping to your sides grasping at the couch cushions. A tingling sensation travels through your body, mind hazy from overstimulation. You stare up at him trying to process what’s just happened, jaw slack as your eyes start to well with tears. Joel’s hand lifts to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb against your soft skin. He drops his hand and adjusts himself, turning away from you and walking back towards his spot on the floor. 

He’s never been this mean before. Never denied you an orgasm, and the feeling is overwhelming. You knew he was mad about earlier, but you didn’t anticipate him being this mad.

Earlier on the supply run you just kept fucking up. Being too loud, careless, forgetful, you name it. The two of you were sent to check out an old strip mall that had surely been raided at some point before, but not by the two of you. He had warned you that this could be an area with raiders or infected lurking nearby and that you needed to be extra cautious, but you took it lightly, after all this wasn’t your first supply run. You had ran into trouble with clickers before and handled it well, but never raiders. 

Of course when the two of you got there, you realized you forgot your gun. It was only you and Joel this time around, no Tess, so the fact that you forgot your gun of all things wasn’t great. That was the first thing to set him off.  

“Really? How the hell do you forget your gun?” 

“I don’t know, must’ve left it on the table.” You shrug. 

He sighs. “Hope your knife skills have gotten better.” 

“Sorry…” You mumble. 

He turns away and you follow him to find a way inside. 

Once the two of you started looking around the place, you found yourself tripping and bumping into things more than usual. Bumping into a shelf, knocking an old jar over while weaving in and out of isles. Joel would shoot you an annoyed look every time which only made you more on edge. 

When you got to what must’ve been an old hardware store, Joel had found a few salvageable things and the two of you started to dig around to fill your packs.  

“Alright let’s get out of here.”  He let out a low grunt as he stood up, lifting his pack over his shoulder. 

You glanced up at him before standing up, as you stood straight up slinging your pack over your shoulder your bag hit a metal rack behind you causing it to nearly fall over. Joel reached his hand out quickly, stopping it from falling. 

“Damnit.” He said between gritted teeth. “You need to be quieter I’m not fuckin’ around.” He gave you a stern look. 

“Quieter?” You gave him a playful look. “What, LIKE THIS?” You yelled out, giggling afterwards.

Normally he loved when you were like this, a little disobedient so he could put you back in your place later that night. Show you how to behave. But right now he wasn’t having it. 

There was the sound of branches snapping outside and Joel immediately looked up, wide eyes locking on the nearest entrance. In an instant he was grabbing you, spinning you so your back was against his chest and covering your mouth with his large hand. His other arm was snaked around the front of you, holding you close. 

“Fuck.” He whispered into your ear as he pulled the both of you into another room to hide. “You really had to do this right now?” 

The coil in your stomach is still tightly wound, and now you’re pissed. You’ll just do it yourself then. 

Your hand finds its way to your puffy tender clit, running your fingers over it as you slowly start to move through your slick folds. Joel still has his back to you as he stands over where his sleeping bag lays on the floor, hands on his waist. Your fingers find their way back to your swollen clit, lightly rubbing circles. Your eyes rake over his form, his broad shoulders and the way his flannel is rolled up exposing his forearms. You bite your cheek, trying to stay as quiet as possible. As you apply more pressure, a soft moan escapes your mouth causing Joel to turn back around. 

His eyes immediately fall to where your fingers are picking up speed between your legs and his eyes grow dark, hand flexing by his side as he watches you. You don’t stop. His eyes meet with yours and your mouth falls open, pace never faltering. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” His brows pinch together forming a crease as he waits for a response. 

You can see his chest starting to heave as you look at him through heavy lidded eyes. Now you’ve done it, you think to yourself. 

He slowly walks back over to you, stopping in front of you, staring down at the way your fingers move so smoothly over your soaked core. He reaches his hand out to lightly grab your jaw, tilting your head up towards him. You let out a yelp as your eyes meet his, growing darker by the second. 

“Hm?” His jaw is clenched as he squeezes yours lightly before he speaks through gritted teeth. “Answer me.”

“No.” You croak out, stopping your motions and reaching to pull your underwear back up. 

“Well, don't stop now.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “Since you want to come so badly around nothing instead of my cock, keep going.” you let out a small gasp. 

“Rather have you.” You say breathlessly.

A smug smile forms on his face as he removes his hand from your jaw and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Hm, not what it looks like.” He’s teasing you now, wanting you to beg. And you will. He knows you will.

“Joel…” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “It’s been too long.” 

“Should’ve thought about that earlier,” He huffs. “when you were touchin’ yourself, when you were acting up on the supply run.” 

“I know, I wasn’t thinking.” You start to sit up straight, scrambling for the right words. “I said I was sorry, just need you.” It comes out just above a whisper. 

Your eyes dart to the growing bulge in his pants then back to his eyes. He’s standing right at the edge of the couch between your parted legs and you can feel heat radiating off him, drawing you in closer. He shifts his weight and his hands fall back to his sides as he contemplates what to do next. 

“Prove it.” 

You stare up at him with wide eyes, dumbstruck. “Wha-“

“If you need my cock so badly, prove it.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he subtly juts his hips forward. 

Your bottom lip disappears between your teeth as you soak up his last words. Without your eyes leaving his, you reach up slowly to rest your hand over where his cock is straining against his dark jeans. He takes a deep breath through his nose as you start to gently apply pressure. You inch your hands up to the hem of his jeans and swiftly undo his belt, unbutton them and pulling the zipper down in one motion before tugging them off his waist so they’re resting around his thighs. The sight of his thick cock only restrained by his cotton underwear causes you to let out a small gasp. 

You look back up at Joel for reassurance and he nods, expression never faltering. Your hands rest on his lower abdomen right above the hem of his boxers, running over the sparse hairs leading down past his boxers. As you hook his fingers into the fabric, pulling them down, his fully hardened cock springs out causing your mouth to salivate at the sight. 

Without thought, your hand immediately wraps around the thick base of his cock causing him to let out a low groan. You lightly squeeze, teasing him as you lean in closer. Your tongue darts out from between your lips to lick at the precum leaking from his silky smooth tip and he sucks in a breath. 

“Jesus.” his hand moves to rest on the back of your neck, the other caressing your cheek.

You look up at him through your lashes, tongue still on his tip as you flash him a daunting smile. You release his cock from your grip and run your tongue from the base of his tip, along the bottom of his length back to his tip before sucking him back into your mouth. The salty taste of his precum still on your taste buds as you swirl your tongue in circles and take the rest of him into your mouth in one go. Tears start to rim your eyes as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. 

“Good girl.” Joel praises you as he wipes away the tears starting to form at the edge of your eyes. 

Your head moves back releasing his cock from your lips with a popping sound before bringing your lips back to rest on his tip. His grip on the back of your neck starts to tighten as he begins to lightly thrust his hips forward. You slowly open your mouth, giving him access and wrapping your lips around his warm cock again. Both your hands grip onto his thighs, holding yourself still as he slowly thrusts forward again. He lets out a low groan as your mouth encloses around his thick member and your motions stop, allowing him to take control. 

“God damn baby.” Joel huffs as he begins to pull back. 

His hand caresses the back of your head guiding you as you open up wider and your nose buries into the sparse curls at the base of his cock. The tip of his cock prods at the back of your throat and you swallow trying to get some sort of relief. He holds your head there for a moment, relishing in the warm, wet feeling of your mouth wrapped around him before pulling back. Your cheeks hollow, sucking harder and he stops before the tip of his cock leaves your mouth.

As he pulls out, you watch the string of saliva connecting to the tip of his flushed cock break before he pulls you back in, swollen lips immediately parting for him once more. 

“Look at me while I fuck your throat.” His hands move to your jaw, tilting your head as far as it can go until your eyes land on his.  

You can feel tears rimming your eyes again as you dig your nails into the warm flesh of his thighs, the back of your throat is already raw. His thumbs caress your cheeks before he roughly fucks into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat once again and your eyes squeeze shut allowing the tears brewing in your eyes to finally spill over. 

“You can take it.” He continues the thrust into your mouth as he speaks. 

You open your eyes and look back at him, he tilts his head to the side as he looks down at you, and mocking pout on his face. His pace doesn’t falter, the only sound in the room is his deep voice and the filthy wet sound of his thick cock relentlessly fucking your throat. 

“This the only way I can get you to be quiet, huh? Gotta have my cock stuffed down your throat for you to shut the fuck up?” The last word comes out just as he thrusts his hips, large calloused hands nearly digging into your cheek as he lets out a low grunt.

His words cause you to let out a low moan around his cock as he hits the back of your throat one last time, and you feel him tense. His head falls back, a deep growl leaving his throat before his eyes snap back to you.

He pulls his cock out of your mouth, and before you can even focus he’s pulling you up from the couch and spinning you to lay on your stomach. You flop down, holding yourself up on your forearms as he pulls your underwear the rest of the way down, and you swear you can hear the fabric lightly tearing before he discards them somewhere on the floor. Next he grabs the hem of your long sleeve, pulling it up over your bare tits. You frantically pull it over your head and off before throwing it somewhere. He quickly pulls you up so that you’re on your knees and grabs your wrists, pinning your arms behind your back as your cheek buries into the couch cushion. 

“This what you were hoping for?” he nearly grunts as he holds your wrists in place with one hand, positioning himself over you. “Hm?” you can hear his breathing as he leans down closer to your face. 

You can’t speak, a low moan leaves your lips, but that's not enough of an answer for him. He lands a small smack on your ass and your body jolts from the contact.

“Answer me.” he says through gritted teeth. You feel him lay some of his weight against your back now and his still fully hard cock presses into you. He leans down close to your face and you feel his lips touch your ear as he speaks. 

“This what you were hoping for when you were acting up earlier?” His deep voice sends a shiver through your body, igniting the heat blooming in your core. 

You feel his weight shift as he pulls away from your face. “Hoping I would teach you a lesson?” His hand wraps around his cock, guiding it towards your tight hole, already soaked in anticipation. 

Your hips push back into him and you attempt to open your legs wider, making room for him to guide himself to your entrance, and without a second thought he thrusts into you. He places one hand on your hip holding you up, as the other keeps your arms pinned behind you. It’s fast and rough, and you can hear the sound of skin on skin as his hips snap forward, thrusting into you with all his force, taking out his anger from earlier on your cunt. This is how it always goes. You piss him off to get what you want, then he fucks you senseless until all his anger and frustration is gone, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A small moan escapes your lips as he grips you tighter, pumping his large cock in and out of you hard enough to jolt your body forward with each thrust. You can hear him grunting above you, pace never faltering. 

“Take me so well,” he huffs. “this tight little cunt is all mine. Made for me.” His voice is deep with lust as he speaks, and it sends a burning heat through your core as a moan escapes you. 

He moves his hand from your hip, snaking his arm around your torso and grabbing onto your left tit as he pulls you back against him. He has your arms still pinned behind you as you arch your back and your upper body meets his chest. Your head falls back over his shoulder, eyes falling shut. 

“Say it.” He speaks against your cheek, lips ever so lightly grazing your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yours.” You choke out. 

He releases your wrists and wraps his arm around your waist, your arms rest over his, gripping his forearms where his flannel is rolled up as he continues to fuck into you. You turn your face to look up at him, and you find him looking down, his eyes fixated on the way he’s pumping in and out of you. Mesmerized by the sound, the way you take him so well and the way his hips snap against your ass with every thrust. Your chest flutters and the coil in your stomach that’s been building is ready to snap any minute. 

“‘M close.” It’s barely audible, his eyes snap away from where your body’s meet to look into yours.

“Think you deserve to come this time?” His mouth is slightly parted, eyes flickering to your lips and back as you nod your head. 

“Yes, please Joel.” You breathlessly beg. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” One of his hands creeps towards your sensitive clit, your hand still gripping his forearm. “You be quiet when I tell you to, and you don’t touch yourself unless I,” he grunts as he thrusts into you. “say so.” The last part is said through gritted teeth, punctuated with a hard thrust and the sound of his hips snapping against you. 

His fingers meet your clit and he applies pressure, rubbing in tight fast circles. Your head falls back and he nips at your neck, teeth just barely brushing your skin as his tongue sets your skin. 

“Say it.” His warm breath fans against your skin. 

“I’m quiet when you tell me,” his lips latch on to your skin, lightly sucking as you gasp and your hips jut forward. He uses the hand on your mound to pull you back into him. “and I don’t touch myself. Unless you say.” 

“Good girl.” His fingers pick up speed, you nearly let out a scream as a white hot pleasure pulses through your body. 

Joel keeps moving his fingers over your clit and one of your hands flies up to bury in his hair. You lightly tug, causing him to grunt, as your body starts to feel limp. His hand wraps back around your torso, holding you up against him as he continues to fuck you, panting into your neck. He thrusts into you two, three more times and you feel his pace falter then still as he releases his load with a low moan. 

He gently falls forward onto the couch, still holding onto you as he gently lays atop of you. You can feel his warm body pressed against your back, chest rapidly rising and falling as he catches his breath. You catch a quick glimpse of him, eyes closed, lips parted and damp curls lightly sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are slightly flushed and he looks divine. 

He stays inside you for another moment before lifting off of you. You hear the couch creek as he gets up, then you hear his zipper and belt as he adjusts his pants before walking back over to his spot on the floor. You don’t move, laying there with your eyes closed as you catch your breath. After a minute or two you start to sit up, looking over at where he’s laying with his back to you again. You grab your discarded shift from the floor and slip it back on before searching for your underwear, picking up your jeans along the way.

 After a few minutes you give up and slip your jeans back on, whatever. You look down at your sleeping bag spread open on the couch, then back at Joel. It might be a bad idea, but you walk over to where he’s laying and lay behind him again, wrapping your arm around his torso and pressing yourself against his warm, broad back. You let out a sigh and he doesn’t move, and as you start to drift asleep, you feel his arm rest on top of yours. 

thanks for reading, any feedback is appreciated & my asks are open to chat <3

tagging some moots: @northernbluess @gracieheartsspedro @joelsversion @isitmeulookin4 @tieronecrush @daydreamingmiller @hearteyesforjoel @demonjoel @merz-8 🤍

[ciaraswritings]

Unexpected.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes, emotional distress, physical exhaustion, pregnancy. 18+.

Word Count: 3.9K words

Summary: Batmom! reader finds out she is pregnant a short time after marrying Bruce Wayne, not in the most pleasant of ways. Telling him won't be easy, but Alfred gives her some encouragement.

Author's note: After four hours of work, I deem my first fanfiction suitable for posting. Thank you for all the support. I hope you enjoy.

It'd been two months since that beautiful, blissful, romantic day. Actually, two months, two weeks, and one day. But who was counting, right?

The newspapers were. Headlines of gossip news, huge block letters in bold, depicted that I had been spotted at the gym alone again, also describing their support for my "weight loss journey" since I had been "losing my figure". I had been reading this article over and over for about an hour. Damn. I inspected the black and white photo of myself in leggings and a tank top. The worst part about, well, everything, is that they were right. I was losing my figure, noticeably. 

I didn't even notice Alfred behind me until he spoke. "No matter how many times you read them, the words are not going to change, ma'am."

I jumped slightly. I hadn't been sleeping or eating well at all, my back and chest ached too much to relax, and heartburn hit me like a batarang after meals. I think I had gotten thirty hours of sleep in the last week, and maybe one meal a day. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you know when dinner will be ready?" 

"In a half hour, ma'am." The butler moved to the other end of the kitchen table to face me. "Those words in the paper are words that all who love you disagree with."

Alfred's words touched me if only a little, and I set down the paper. "Thank you, I think I'm going to take a walk." 

He looked concerned, but just for a moment. "Alright, ma'am. Try not to be late, the chicken may be devoured." 

Chuckling, I stepped out into the early evening light. I would not be late for dinner, living with five hungry men teaches you a lot. The sunlight embraced me, bathing me in its gentle rays, glimmering over my face. I felt positively glorious. Closing my eyes, I soaked it in. My husband would soon be home to kiss me and keep an arm around my waist. The simple thought of his touch made my mouth stretch into a smile. Five more minutes, and I'll go in. 

Five minutes turned into twenty. Being amongst the blooming flowers and the busy insects kept me occupied. Not only that, but a sudden headache had overtaken me. I sat in the grass, unladylike, watching the bees collect their last supply of nectar from the flowers for the day. Grass stains never bothered me anyway. I knew time was getting away from me, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to focus on anything. I didn't want to go inside because I didn't want bedtime to arrive. It was too painful to even think about. My head and back reminded me of that even now. 

My vision blurred slightly, I could only focus on a single flower on the bushes before me, bees continuing to fly around it. This was nice. I couldn't focus on a single thing, or think about anything, or worry.

I felt myself fall, sort of, to the ground. Fall was the best word I know to describe it. I was already sitting on the ground, but my muscles suddenly felt like pudding. My head bumped to the grass and laid to rest. Terror gripped my heart and throat for a single second before everything just... relaxed. My vision went next, but I was okay with that. This was so relaxing. I wanted to stay.

...

"Madam. Madam (Y/N)!" The voice came from... maybe a mile away. Maybe. Maybe ten miles. Maybe a hundred.

"(Y/N), madam (Y/N)!" Something cold was on my face. Ugh. I don't like that. The wind bit and stung at where the cold wetness was on my cheek. Ouch.

"Wake up, madam!" No. I don't want to. Go away. But the voice sounds scared.  

I slowly, slowly, with great effort, opened my eyes. Instantly they closed again. My friend the butler was hovering over me. What was his name again?

"Mom!" New voice. Go the hell away. I open my eyes again. 

"I'm here, I'm fine." Sitting up took much more strength than opening my eyes, but I managed to do so. Dick and Alfred worriedly stare at me. "I was just taking a nap."

"That wasn't a nap, it looked like you passed out." Dick was the one with the cold wet cloth. He put it to my head again. I gave him a withering glare, and he pulled it away again, looking apologetic. 

"It was a nap, of course I didn't pass out. Now let me return to it," I waved my hand in no particular direction, trying to shoo them away like mice.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to sleep on the cold ground in nothing but your loungewear, ma'am." Alfred took the cloth from Dick and put it to my forehead. 

Lord, they were being so annoying, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My eyelids drooped and my words slurred. "Bed hurts too much right now... just come back later..." my head finally dropped forward as vision began to diminish again. 

I couldn't really tell what they said next. What I could remember was, "Inside now... call the... when they can see her..." and "...got her... go and tell him... I've got it..." 

The sensation of being lifted did not startle my dozing. Neither did the shouting, nor the feeling of hands on my face. I had earned this sleep, and I was going to... enjoy... it...

...

I was awake, but I didn't want to open my eyes. It wasn't time. Please don't let it be time. I peeked a glance at my watch. Eight in the morning on a Sunday? Yeah, back to sleep we go. 

Before I could return to my dreamless sleep, I became aware of unidentified breathing beside me. Was that Titus? Or maybe Alfred. Maybe I had been kidnapped. Did I care? Hell to the no. All I cared about at this present moment was slumber. If I was kidnapped, I could sleep all I wanted while I waited for them to rescue me.

Then, like a train, uninvited and on its own, the back pain hit my lower body. I couldn't help the moan of discomfort that tore from my throat.

Instantly, a hand went to my forehead. It felt so cold against my warm head. I'd better see who this person with the cold hands is and tell them to go stick their fingers in a campfire before touching me again.

 When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't even in the garden anymore. Alfred, I told you I wanted to stay on the ground. But it wasn't Alfred who had put freezing digits on my forehead. It was my husband, my dearest Bruce, my wonderful partner in... crime didn't seem like a good choice of words. His worried blue eyes bored into my sleep-deprived (Y/C) eyes. Ouch, that gaze made my headache come back.

"Hello. Go warm your hands up," I told the love of my life before closing my eyes again. The light from the window seemed to be penetrating my very brain. 

"My hands are warm," replied the bearer of freezing fingers.

"Please, feels like your hands went to the Artic circle for winter vacation." My stubborn retort took a lot out of me, but I could practically hear his small smile. 

"There's my girl," he murmured. I opened my eyes again to smile at my wonderful... freezing... man. 

"Yeahhh, your girl's going back to dreamland. Night night." I grunted at the pain stabbing me in the back, the throbbing in my head, and the emptiness in my stomach.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Stay right here. The doctor's going to be here at ten, you should freshen up a bit." 

I opened one eye to glare unhappily at him. "Don't need a doctor. Need a nap."

His chuckle annoyed me to the very core, almost scaring away the shooting pains in my back. "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. Do you know how worried we all were when we heard you had fainted in the garden? The boys hardly wanted to go on patrol, they wanted to look after you."

"The boys didn't want to go on patrol? You didn't want to look after me?" I glared playfully at my handsome knight. "And I didn't faint... just took a nap."

"On the cold hard ground?" His questioning gaze made me open both my eyes.

"Yes, it felt nice on my back." 

"Does your back still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yes, it still hurts." 

"And you didn't feel like sleeping in the bed?"

"The hell is this, an interrogation?" 

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Go away," I retorted, closing my eyes. "I have to go to work, no time for doctors."

"I called and told them you can't come in this week."

"This... this is why I married you."

It didn't take long to fall back into blissful, painless paradise. Bruce left me alone, but I knew he was close by, watching over me. The mansion was so quiet and peaceful, I knew the boys were fast asleep.

Much too soon, I was being kissed awake. 

"Darling, Doctor Thompkin's here. It's time to wake up." Bruce's forehead kisses were, for the very first time in our relationship, annoying. 

"Ugh." I rolled over to escape, my back cracking. 

"Upsy daisy." He stroked my back, gently massaging my painfully aching muscles.

Sitting up took all the strength I had, and yet I had to find more to answer the questionnaire the doctor was springing upon me. Bruce stepped out mid-examination to answer a phone call, leaving the woman to observe my body and take into consideration my answers to her questions. Her questions seemed endless. "Have you been out of the country in the last month?" 

"No."

"Have you been feeling depressed or hopeless?"

"No."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Do you or any family members have history of scoliosis?" 

"No."

"History of heartburn?"

"No."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It's marked on the calendar, couple pages back." 

"Do you know what year it is?"

I gave her a funny look. "Of course I do, what's wrong with you?" Now I feel bad for saying that, but I certainly didn't in the moment.

The doctor chuckled, her friendly eyes had laughter lines around them. "Just wanted to make sure you're still with me. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on birth control?" 

"Couple months. I went on it during our honeymoon."

"During?"

"Yes, we realized condoms and plan B weren't as convenient as the pill."

"I'm going to need a blood sample and then we're done here. I'll be in touch with the results. You don't seem to be suffering from scoliosis, but I'll contact you about x-rays to confirm. I haven't made a house call in a long time, or practiced family medicine, but I'll do everything I can to make sure we get to the root of this."

"Okay." 

The blood draw seemed to take longer than I remembered blood draws taking. The prick of the needle didn't disturb the haze of sleepiness that still surrounded me. The woman's departure signaled another wave of sleepiness to wash over me. Bruce and Alfred were showing the doctor out as my head hit the pillow. Pain shot up my back, but sleep had already captured me. 

Tomorrow turned into today, and then today became yesterday. It felt like I slept the whole Monday, skipping work and family dinner. Tuesday morning came with sunshine and kisses from my darling husband as I slowly opened my eyes. 

"Hi," I smiled at him. One of Bruce's arms was holding me almost loosely as he lay next to me in the white sheets. He looked worn and tired from a long night of patrol. I sniffed him. Good, he had showered. 

"Hello." His tired kiss on my lips was slowly waking me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I told him. My smile was getting bigger and my world was waking up. I traced the shape of his exhausted eyes. "Close your eyes. Sleep." 

"Mmph." His eyes closed and his body relaxed under my touch. Normally, Bruce was the one to hold me tight and kiss me to sleep, to caress my body and keep me safe. Looking over his body, I realized that he had been through a difficult night of patrol. A stitched gash across his back, an unhappy bruise on his jaw, scratches on his forearms. Worrying about my "condition" probably hadn't helped him stay alert out there in the dangerous night of Gotham. Guilt washed over me. My arms protectively wrapped around my dearest husband, my lips pressing to his forehead. Today, I was going to keep him safe, I was going to comfort him through his slumber.

...

Bruce's snoring wasn't exactly a lullaby, so I was up and about after a few hours. The boys were crashed in their rooms and Alfred was busy baking something that smelled like chocolatey deliciousness. I was looking over the morning paper, again, skimming for any mention of my family or I. Unhealthy habit, you could say. I was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, keeping the rustling of the newspaper pages to a minimum.

Vibrations of Bruce's cell phone made me look up. As silently as I could, I leaped up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table on Bruce's side. My husband's sleep was important to me, and if I had it my way, nothing at all would disturb it, not even nightmares. 

I carried the cell phone out of the bedroom and glanced at the caller ID. Doctor Thompkins. Results. Yes. This wasn't the first time I had answered my husband's phone, so I wasn't going to feel guilt over finding out my own test results. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), hello. I'm calling with your results."

"Tim's been telling everyone in the family it's yellow fever, please prove him wrong."

"Hah, no, it is not yellow fever... I'd say it's something a little more... serious."

I stiffened. My aching back didn't like that. "What's up?"

"We spoke about your history with birth control, but we need to talk about it again. It would seem that there was some window of time where you and Bruce were not using protection."

My backache must've hit my brain, because looking back, I can't believe I didn't catch on. "Bruce gave me a disease?"

"Not a disease. You're pregnant, (Y/N). I can't make an estimate on how many weeks you are, but I'm going to give you the contact information for an OBGYN. Make an appointment as soon as you can. Congratulations, Mrs. Wayne."

...

When Bruce woke up, I had to apologize to him for his cracked cell phone screen. I told him the truth, that I'd dropped it, but I didn't explain that it was from shock. He told me it was alright, that he'd pick up a new one, but he wasn't quite sure why I looked so very upset over dropping his phone. That would explain itself in time.

I didn't eat a thing at dinner that night, despite my full plate and coaxing from my family. Even the finest cut of steak is unappealing when something like that is on one's mind.

Who wouldn't overthink a thing like this? Pregnant, after a literal two months of marriage? Pregnant, while caring for four boys that you saw as your sons? Pregnant, after your husband had told you he didn't want anymore children? Pregnant, after you had both tried to be careful? Pregnant, to one of the greatest vigilantes and most successful businessmen in the world? Pregnant. I am pregnant. I might have my husband's baby.

"Mom!"

My head jerked up and I was greeted by five concerned faces. 

"Ma, you look like you're in another world," Jason forked a piece of potato. 

"Maybe I am in another world, Jay-Jay." I smiled slightly before standing. Ten eyes observed my every move. 

"Ummi, where are you going?" Damian, the one who I expected would be the least concerned, watched me with huge, worried eyes. 

"I think I need to sleep more. I will see you all tomorrow morning." I kissed every head at the table, my lips lingering on my husband's forehead. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down for a gentle kiss. I think he noticed my hesitance, but I didn't stop to think about it or explain. My back only permitted me to walk up the stairs, but if I could've run, I would've.

Once Bruce and the boys had left for their night of patrol, I breathed again. Laying on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest, trying to rehearse how I would address the situation to Bruce, it took a lot out of me. "Bruce, I need to tell you something," I mumbled. "No... Bruce, we need to talk." 

"Madam, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Master Bruce is not here." Alfred's voice startled me for the second time this week.

"I wish he was. I'm sorry, I'm... practicing." I tried to give my friend a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace. 

"Good luck, madam," Alfred set down a cup of tea on my bedside table and gave me a genuine Alfred smile. Before he was out of the room, he turned back and looked me dead in the eye. "Master Bruce loves you very much, Madam (Y/N). He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink." 

I looked straight back into this wonderful gentleman's eyes. "Thank you."

...

I tried to sleep through the night, I really did. When dawn and my boys arrived, I was still wide awake, not having slept a wink. I trotted down the stairs to the batcave, taking extra care not to trip. Once on the floor, we went through our post-patrol routine of inspecting each one of my boys. First Damian, who shrugged me off several times before allowing me to look over him, then Tim, who accepted my worrying for what it was, then Jason, who pretended to be annoyed for show, then Dick, who looked over me as carefully as I looked over him, then finally Bruce, who would not stop kissing me, barely giving me a chance to check him for injuries. 

No one was truly hurt, but all but one were tired as they pulled off their suits. The boys trudged upstairs to their rooms, but my husband carried me valiantly up the stairs to our place in the master bedroom, like a knight carrying his princess.

Once the bedroom door was shut and he had set me down, I was instantly on my back laying on the bed, Bruce's lips showing affection to my neck and collarbone. A soft, throaty moan left my mouth as my husband kissed me, his hands working their way over my body. I was clothed in my favorite outfit of a tank top and leggings, and I knew they were at risk of being torn from my torso and limbs if I allowed this to continue. Besides... I had to tell Bruce. 

"Darling..." the word I said was half-moaned. "Darling, please, you need to shower."

"I thought you liked my scent?" Bruce chuckled, looking up at me, his hands working their way up my shirt. 

"Mmm, I do, but you are going to dirty our sheets that Alfred worked so hard to wash." 

"You have a valid point, but I don't like it." Bruce grinned and pulled off the little clothing he wore. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, watching him make his way to the shower. If I hadn't had such a burden on my mind, I would've joined him. I could hear him muttering insults at the slippery bar of soap that his large fingers always seemed to have trouble grasping, and it made me smile. My hand absentmindedly rested on my stomach and I wondered if his child would have the same troubles as their father.

Bruce's shower was shorter than usual. Much shorter than if I had been in there with him. Chuckling, I made room for my knight in the bed. He hadn't bothered to put on clothes, or dry his hair. Bruce climbed on top of me, drops of water falling from his hair to my chest. His lips reattached to mine, devouring the kiss like a wild man. I knew what he had on his mind from the way he caressed my body, and I had to put a stop to it. 

"Bruce... Bruce, wait." 

Concerned eyes met mine. "(Y/N)?"

Alfred's words replayed in my mind. He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. I stared into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown to take comfort in. "Bruce, Doctor Thompkins diagnosed me."

Instantly, his desire was forgotten. Bruce sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "Tell me, darling, what is it?"

His arms made me feel so safe. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink. "I... you need to expect the unexpected."

"So I'm guessing it's not yellow fever, since that's what Tim expects," Bruce smiled. The gentle attempt at humor didn't lift the worry in his eyes. 

"Heh, no... not exactly. It's... it's a baby." The last three words were much quieter than the others. 

Bruce looked at me quizzically. "I don't think I heard you correctly." 

"A baby," I honestly voiced my diagnosis, somewhat fearfully looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce's glare pierced mine. He gently slid me off his lap and set me on the bed before standing and walking to the window to silently stare out of it. His breathing had changed, his body was stiff, everything about him seemed cold and hardened. 

My worst fears bit and tore at my heart, anxiety gripping my throat like a murderer. Oh Lord, he doesn't want me anymore. I didn't know whether to go to him, or leave the mansion, or stay in the bed, or cry, or speak. So I just waited, for a full two minutes, staring at my husband's scarred back. After waiting that long, tears began to prick at my eyes. I finally laid down and curled into the cold sheets. "I'm sorry."

I heard him turn. "What are you sorry for?"

"Not paying attention to my birth control. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," my tears left wet spots on the pillowcase. I closed my eyes tightly. 

Then I felt his weight on his side of the bed, he was laying beside me. Bruce collected me into his arms, tilting my chin up, asking me silently to look at him. I opened my wet eyes. 

"I'm not angry with you. I'm thinking about it. Just let me think." Bruce's rough, calloused fingers brushed against my peach soft cheek.

"Okay." I closed my eyes to fight back angry, hot tears. He pulled me to his chest, holding me to himself. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. 

He must've held me like that for an hour before he finally, finally spoke. "Well, this isn't what I thought two months into our marriage would look like." 

My tears had left stains on his chest. Only a surge of bravery made me look up at him. "Yeah."

He looked down at me, smiled, kissed my lips, and I felt my husband's love course through my body. He may have turned me away physically, but he had never turned me away emotionally. I sat up on his lap, straddling him, my forehead resting on his, my hands on his cheeks. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce's fingers brushed against my waist. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes met mine. "May I?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized and nodded, beaming. "Yes."

His large hand rested on my stomach. The wheels in his head were still turning, but they had calmed, and they were only turning in the name of love. 

"Expect the unexpected." 

[enluv]

sungchan as your boyfriend…

pairing: non-idol!sungchan x gn!reader

word count: 573!

genre(s): pure fluff like hold onto your hats because this might make you fall in love with him kinda fluff + (no warnings!)

coco’s <3 note: thank you @okkotsu-simp for requesting this 🤍

– sungchan who first meets you at your universities library because you’re sitting in his usual spot and he’s seriously irritated about it but he thinks you’re too beautiful to tell you off

– that same sungchan decides to just take the seat in front of you and smiles when you look up at him surprised, he’ll explain that you’re in his spot and shake his head no quickly after when you try to get up and offer it back to him, instead asking you what you’re working on

– the rest is history after that, you have a mutual crush on one another and he asks you out immediately after watching the library worker try and flirt with you, something about how you’re his significant other and he thought it was obvious to evereyone???

– sungchan is the type of boyfriend to introduce you to the things he usually does alone, this isn’t to say he doesn’t continue to do them alone but if he thinks you’ll enjoy going on a walk in his favorite park then he’ll be sure to plan for you to try it out with him

– he won’t force you to try new things (foods, activities, hobbies, etc.) but he would most definitely encourage it

– he knows how hard university can get so he will always make sure you’re taking care of yourself

– you’ve been up for hours working on a final paper? it’s time to sleep love, and he means it! he’s a strong guy do you really think he won’t trick you with cuddles on his bed then trap you in his arms till you eventually fall asleep?

– sungchan who can’t cook to save his life but will learn to make you soup for when you catch a cold

– sungchan who buys your pet clothes he thinks will look cute on them and swoons whenever you send him pictures of them wearing the outfits he bought

– sungchan who is the biggest cuddle bug you’ll ever meet, like seriously he loves his cuddles so much and demands them every night

– sungchan who so badly wants to meet your parents because he wants them to know who is dating their baby but is also so nervous to meet them that he freaks out all day till you drag him to dinner shaking

– sungchan who goes out of his way to form an authentic friendship with your friends because he knows how much they mean to you and wants to make sure they know how much you mean to him

– sungchan who drives with one hand, and places the other over you to make sure you’re safe when he’s backing out of places (i need him)

– sungchan who gets pouty when you won’t kiss him because you’re sick and don’t want him to catch your cold (he swears up and down he doesn’t care but pouts even more when he catches it)

– sungchan who always lets you taste his food when you guys go out to eat together

– sungchan who helps you study for exams you have coming up

– sungchan who invites you back to his place for holidays away from school when you can’t go back home

– sungchan who buys you flowers all the time because he knows they make you smile

– sungchan who notices the little habits you have, like tapping your fingers nervously or squeezing his hand a bit tighter when you’re excited about something

– sungchan who when he has a bad day at work or school calls you because hearing your voice immediately puts his mind at ease and washes away all his worries…

coco’s <3 note: right so like I NEED HIM. okay moving on! I could totally go on forever with these but I decided that I should maybe just post them because if I didn’t stop myself I definitely would have never posted this and just kept adding to it for months on end (this is totally not the reason I haven’t posted my jay bf hcs ahahahaha why would you even think that silly goose!) anyways I hope you enjoy these and fantasize  about sungchan the same way I did when writing them 🤣🫵🏽 as always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3

riize taglist — @palajae @txtlyn @rllymark @soheekisser @luvbinnies @chaerybae @lecheugo @idkwatodoanymore @givemeakith @haechansbbg @mxlly143 @tinyelfperson @vampcharxter (bold can’t be tagged 😞)

Want to be added? Check out the form post here!

[jhuzen]

married life [m.reader]

this is me taking the first step in creating the househusband hcs of our tall hsr men for us gays and bi kings. happy pride ansismdkf (i mean to say that also in haitham’s post bUT OH WELL). anyway, i still hate luocha. otto trauma so true so real (honestly, his only saving grace in mhy games is ayato because he’s not blond). today, we have ourselves some househusbands.

𖦹 househusband hcs with gepard, sampo, jing yuan, blade, dan heng, caelus and old man welt, no luocha but i’m open to be convinced why i should start loving him, mostly fluff, domestic stuff, modern au though… aren’t they more modern if they can travel the space? huh. normal world au then. forgot to add that ceo reader is implied

GEPARD LANDAU

He’s a very reluctant househusband at first, actually. He’s one who firmly believes that relationships are a team effort (and they are and should be), and thinks that it wouldn’t hurt for the both of you to work together. Of course, you encourage him regardless, and with both of your career-oriented selves, you were basically the couple that could foster a ten or so children and still be financially sound.

Serval is the one who convinced Gepard to lay low a little in his job and relax for once. You’re making a decent income a month — enough for you to be the only one working and still have a comfortable life together.

You have to thank your sister-in-law and her craftiness. She wasn’t Gepard’s sister for nothing. She knew your husband more than anyone and knew that he was too down bad to even refuse in entertaining the thought of not taking care of you. All she had to do was do a little convincing.

“If I were [Name], I sure wouldn’t mind coming home to a nice meal like this every night,” she’d muse with a hum while she ate off of Gepard’s cooking. He came home early that one night and thought to surprise you. Of course, Serval just had to taste test since she’s looking out for you, her beloved brother-in-law. “Also wouldn’t mind being taken care of by my own spouse…”

Gepard quickly folded. What if his sister was right and you wanted that kind of life? But it’s not like he also wants to quit his job just like that. So he made a gradual decrease in work until he can finally have a schedule that can commit as a househusband and occasionally help when he’s needed at work as a consultant.

Your beloved husband is a bit mid from the start — basic in cooking, in chores, but it’s his perseverance that pushes him up to S-tier househusband status. He will really go out of his way to learn recipes that you suddenly brought up in the middle of a conversation and will execute it to the highest standards. He will become a lot more meticulous in his chores around the house.

If he can, he’s definitely the type to drop by and join you in lunch. He’s a lot more free now, and if there’s nothing else to do in the house, he’ll take some lunch and go to where you work and just eat lunch together. Everyone is looking at the windows of your own office in envy while they watched you get spoon fed by your cute husband (they don’t know how embarrassed Gepard is since you technically just coerced him to feed you so people can see you on purpose).

So very attentive to you. He wakes you up early (even earlier if you have meetings where you have to discuss things to be extra prepared) for work. Your lunch is just top tier, but the plating is too cute — with the slightly uneven shapes to create cute animals. He’s the kind to even put a note in your packed lunch every time without fail.

He knows how hard you work and only wants the best for you. And when you recognize his efforts, he’s quick to get flustered from your compliments. He will fold like a wet cardboard. He’s too weak.

“Dear, please,” you could only laugh at your beloved’s winsome attitude. Currently pressed against the marbled counter of the kitchen, you can only shower him in a plethora of love-filled kisses as you expressed your unending gratitude. Your lips left tiny pecks from his cheeks down to his neck, only serving to fluster him even more.

You pulled back but not before leaving another quick kiss on his nose, “What’s got you all knotted up, love? No one’s watching.” You cooed, leaving your poor husband whining at the thought of earlier — when you so cruelly asked him to feed you in front of your subordinates while you busily ‘worked’ on your projects.

But somehow even with the unbridled embarrassment that you brought to him, Gepard couldn’t help but feel the elation engulf his entirety at the prospect of you showing him off in your own mischievous ways. Even with your busy schedule, you were more than willing to let him come inside your work and take the time off just to let him join you for lunch. He’d already heard enough drama around the neighborhood to be grateful that you can still balance your work with your marriage.

He was grateful to have you as his partner for life. And even then, he wouldn’t mind having to visit you just to feed you. It was certainly a rare thing that he’s heard partners would suggest, so to be given a privilege as seeing you everyday at work was something he would cherish more than ever.

A kiss on his temple knocked his fleeting thoughts off the rail and pulled him back to reality, blinking at your curious smile, “…Shield for your thoughts?” You inquired with a gentle tone, eager to pry just what has got your husband so spacey all of a sudden.

He only grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss and murmured against your lips, “Just thanking my lucky stars for having you as my husband.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

𐂂

SAMPO KOSKI

Your friends still think you’re a legend for even managing to wife up the untamable Sampo. But somehow, you pulled him in and he was more than willing to be a househusband. For more reasons than one.

But let’s get out the pinnacle of his reasons out of the way — it being, him living so comfortably? Financially supported by a handsome guy like you? Sign him up. He’s more than willing to take care of you while you take care of him. He’s a sleazy guy, after all. Wouldn’t wanna get married to a broke man. Kidding.

Anyway, he mostly sells the story of getting married just for benefits for laughs. But really, you’ve somehow managed to actually trap him as a prisoner of love. He’s a huge simp for you and actually considers your high-end job a bonus. A really good bonus. But other than that, you’ve got Sampo completely wrapped around your finger. And he’s a very eager househusband.

A surprisingly good househusband. He’s meticulous in his work and can cook. But what really sells him is how well he can budget and actively get discounts just by smooth talking the vendors in the market. You once went with him, telling him to go nuts and buy everything that he needs, and you came home with only just a good half of your money spent. He was scarily good and from then on, you made an oath to take notes from your husband’s amazing haggling skills.

He’s a very resourceful man. If you need anything, he’s there to lend a hand. He’s always there to fix equipments that break down. Really, you rarely get issues with the things at home, because the moment he senses that there’s something wrong, he’s already on the case. Your husband is a jack of all trades.

All he requires is a small fee of some attention and loving from you. Seriously, he will mope around and will let you know that he’s upset that you forgot to give him a goodbye kiss earlier when you left for work.

You wake up much earlier than he does, but please wake him up. He wants to cook you breakfast and see you off like a loving househusband that he is. He will sulk if you so much as even think of leaving him without waking him up. He’s a big drama queen and unless you make up for it once you get home, he will continue to walk around the house with a pout on his face.

The only way to make this man completely crumble underneath you is to spoil him. He’s working so hard with the upkeep of your shared home! If you take him out on surprise date nights, he will melt. Shower him with lavish gifts from all the money you saved up, courtesy of Sampo’s extreme bargaining. He will latch onto your arm the entire night like your pretty little arm candy (even if he’s taller than you).

Oh, right. You will get sudden visits from Natasha or even Seele and Oleg, just to check up on your married life. They’re mostly just there to whack some sense into Sampo if he’s being difficult to you. Suffice to say, they’re always surprised when they come visit your homely abode that’s clean and has a refreshing atmosphere. Seele plugs her ears every time you say it’s all because of Sampo that your house is even remotely presentable. She’s in denial.

It was a grueling day, leaving you completely vulnerable to the throes of exhaustion. You ought to take some vacation days, maybe go on a different country with your husband for a treat. Surely, he’d like that. You noticed he’s been working just as hard as you at home. Speaking of which — the reason for your home’s unfamiliar silence was in fact the lack of singing from your lively husband. You were so used to hearing his voice that the silence felt incredibly deafening when you were alone.

“Love? You home?” You called out, glancing at the shoe rack by the door to see his outdoor shoes in the same place and the indoor shoes missing. He’s here. You pursed your lips, brushing off the peculiarity and headed to the joint dining room and kitchen, seeing a nice still hot meal sitting on a nice plate. But it was the only thing on the table, no other plates or even a husband waiting on you with a smile. You peered at the food to see a card beside the plate, scribbled with a sad face.

“…What.” You sat the card back down before finally poking your head in the living room, seeing your husband watching another sad show while screwing in some panel from what you can only guess a part of your heater. You sauntered up from behind him, before grabbing his face and tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

He made no noise and had it not been for his evident pout, you would’ve only been left wondering what you did to make him so sulky again. You sighed before leaning to press a kiss against your lips. You could feel him finally smile against the kiss.

“So you still love me?” He asked, insinuating that you felt otherwise for not even giving him a kiss goodbye earlier.

“Not like I have a choice,” was your only cheeky response.

“Wha— Hey!”

𐂂

JING YUAN

Out of everyone, he is probably the most eager one to be a househusband. He is so ready to retire. He’s been moaning about it at work constantly, about how he’s just ready to settle in somewhere nice and be taken care of. And when you decided to finally tie the knot with him, you didn’t even have to ask twice, that man is already turning in his resignation and is already making your shared home even cozier than ever.

He’s a very languid man, but that does not mean he’s going to flake out on chores. He can do them all efficiently just for the sake of getting them out of the way so he can keep relaxing after. That, and of course making sure that you come home to a clean home. Aeons know how stressful it is to come home from work and seeing your own home completely cluttered. Jing Yuan has suffered the same thing before he met you.

Jing Yuan loves you through his cooking other than sleeping in with you. He creates the greatest dishes for you. Often are you eating your lunch with so much pride. Your subordinates would come inside your office during lunchtime to pass some papers and they would see you just completely enjoying life with your husband’s cooking.

He likes to greet you with a nice warm meal after your work. And he’d just watch you eat his meals with a fond smile while you continue to talk about each of your days with each other. Of course, occasionally, he’d open his mouth and you would have to feed him as well. Yanqing would sometimes come home to such a sight and never has he seen a more domestic scene than before.

Another one of his much favored ways to show his love is through after work massages. You’d come home and be completely smothered with love just by his touches. Sometimes he’d give you a nice neck and shoulder massage while you’re eating and talking about your day. Or you could both be lounging on the sofa and he would absentmindedly massage your overworked hands.

However his most favored time spent with you is when you’re on a day off and that he would successfully persuade you into staying a little bit longer in bed with him. Just sleep until the afternoon, with limbs tangled against one another. He loves spooning his husband that takes care of him so dearly. Just feeling your back pressed against his chest while he’s nuzzling his nose into the nape of your neck. Bliss. Utter bliss.

The two of you scream old married couple. Just two old geezers enjoying their lives. It’s really such a relaxing relationship. Being married to Jing Yuan is like a vacation from your problems and him being married to you is an adventure without the nauseating exhaustion.

Yanqing is inadvertently your child the moment you got married to your husband. And suffice to say, you were far more content in your life than you could ever imagine. Never have you felt the genuine happiness swell within you the moment you came home to the two of them cooking together. You still have a slightly motion blurred picture in your phone and neither of them know about it.

Overall the most chill househusband. But even in his passivity, you can feel the radiating warmth of love for you. He just… loves you so much that he’s more than willing to take care of you and the little family that you and him have created. He will wait for you by the door with his half-lidded gaze completely fixated on you with so much adoration. He’s lucky to have you.

You were used to the hectic mornings you often faced upon waking up. It was always a rush job in the morning, speeding through all your morning routine before finally leaving for work. But today was not that day. You could tell from the way the sunlight hit your eyelids. You always left just before the sun could even come up, but right now, you had other plans.

You wanted to prepare a nice breakfast for your husband. He had been working so hard all the time, taking care of you and Yanqing with no days off unlike you. You figured you could get the day started and surprise the both of them with some of your cooking prowess. Suddenly filled with the motivation, you sat up, ready to face the first hour of your time off work for a few days.

However, your plans were soon foiled when a strong arm hooked around your waist and immediately pulled you back down on the bed without even breaking a sweat. You sighed, looking off to the side to see one golden eye peering at you sleepily. Lips turning up into a smile, you shifted to fully face him.

“Can’t even let me make you some breakfast in bed, huh?” You teased with the same fondness as the very first day you and him got married.

A quiet grunt was all your lover gave, only to follow it up with his own gruff response a minute later, “While that sounds nice, I believe I can also reap benefits just from canoodling with my husband for let’s say… until the afternoon.”

Your hands were tied at that point, and with one last charming smile from your dozing husband, you dove into his arms, letting him press some kisses on your face before falling asleep, with you following after.

𐂂

BLADE

No one in this world knows how you managed to charm and marry Blade in the first place. Even his family considers you a miracle worker for bagging the hard to get man. You could only reminisce of the times he would give you the cold shoulder when you tried to ask him out. You were cringe but Blade somehow liked it.

Regardless, he’s one of the reluctant househusbands at first. Blade doesn’t like the feeling of not going out and making money like you. He believes that as long as he can, he will contribute to this relationship. It’s really adorable. And you were supportive of what he wants, but when he realized no one can take care of you while you’re busy being the breadwinner, he decided that he’ll take one for the team and take care of everything in the house instead.

He is meticulous in cleaning. Your house is always sparkling clean the moment you arrive at home. He’s constantly on the hunt for any dust that could taint your shared humble abode. He once read that an unclean house can cause sickness to the occupants, and he has never let a single dust touch a furniture ever since then. Your health is his priority and he will do everything in his power to keep you healthy.

You know what? Screw it, he wears his apron without a care too. He goes out of the house in a pink frilly apron you gifted him as a silly little joke and he’s not ashamed of it. Even Kafka’s incessant teasing isn’t enough to deter him from wearing it. You gave it to him and he loves it. That’s all that matters.

Surprisingly loved by your neighbors. In contrast to his gloomy disposition, he’s always seen around the market and with people’s tendency to draw closer to mysterious handsome men like him, let’s just say he’s managed to unintentionally charm your neighbors. Everyone calls you lucky for getting him, everyone calls him lucky for having a good husband that provides.

Really, he cares so little about the money you make. All he needs is your love and attention. It is imperative that you give him calls on certain times of the day, let him know that you’re still alive at the very least. It’s not like you can’t make do on such a promise either, you loved calling him just to take a break from work for a little while. Even just hearing his quiet grunts of agreement while you gossiped about your subordinates was enough.

He wakes you up… like really early. Super early. Like at least a few hours before you call in for work. His reason? To get enough time with you before you go to work. It’s adorable. You two could be just lounging at the balcony, sipping coffee or tea while you both watch the sunrise.

Speaking of which, with him comes a package. His aforementioned family. Kafka and Silver Wolf’s visits are a must. They are a part of him and now they are a part of you. Kafka could be dropping by just to chat and gossip with you (somehow both of you know a lot about people’s own businesses) or Silver Wolf would just barge in and hog all your game systems (she says no one plays them since you’re both old men so she gets the privilege). Either way you’re already used to it, and one guest room is always at the ready.

Getting married to Blade is honestly the best thing you’ve ever done in your life. You still don’t know how you pulled him, but with him resting on you while the both of you watched shows, showing you his vulnerability tells you that doing so is not an accident or a mistake.

“…Would it kill you to step back a little? It’s hard to cook.”

“But you’re so warm. So soft… so…”

Quite possibly out of all the forms of affections that you’ve expressed towards him, Blade finds your nosy hands cupping around his chest from under his clothes the least practical. Especially when you’re doing it while he’s cooking your breakfast before you’re off for work.

He flipped the omelet with ease despite his claims of difficulty just seconds ago. Of course, it wasn’t as hard when he’s standing still. But on times where he had to go get some things, you in your sleepy daze had to trudge behind him like a shadow just to persistently warm your incredibly cold hands.

Regardless, other than the difficulty in moving, Blade finds it even harder not to burn the kitchen down as his concentration dwindled with every kiss you pressed against his neck, unrelenting and incredibly soft, so filled with love in every individual peck that met his skin. His face turned a rather dark shade of scarlet while you busied yourself with him.

“Keep this up and you’re going to be late.”

“At least it’s extra time with you~” you cooed.

Blade only sighed before leaning against your back, using his free hand to softly knock into the side of your head as his form of half-assed discipline.

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that extra time too.

𐂂

DAN HENG

He’s not so much as a reluctant househusband. In fact, he relishes in the idea of just staying home and doing his work there. He likes the comfort of being able to sit things out for once after having to look after his two gremlins for friends. However, he does want to make sure that you’re always safe when you’re working.

After a lot of reassurances, he finally decides that you can handle your own. He will compensate for it by taking an extremely good care of you and your shared home. And this man does not play around. He’s sort of like Blade, excelling at everything that needs to be done not just because, but it’s to keep you safe. He cooks you healthy meals and scrubs any dirt off the face of the world.

Easily one of the greatest househusbands in the list. Dan Heng has the right temperament and while he’s often aloof to most people, when it comes to you, you could already feel how he seems more lenient, a little softer on you.

He does all his work efficiently to get them over with as fast and as best as he can so he can have time to visit you in your work. If he knows he has time, count on your beloved husband to come and bring you some freshly cooked lunch in your office. Almost everyone in your company already knows who he is. He’s the elusive husband of the big boss, coming in just to bring you some lunch.

Speaking of which, might wanna keep your subordinates in check. Dan Heng is a looker, and the fact that he’s just as considerate, combined with his mysterious nature, people are bound to be more attracted to him. Though honestly, none of their little admiration could measure up to Dan Heng’s love for you.

In his eyes, you are the only one important, right next to his own family with Himeko and the rest. And he will do all that he can to make sure that you’re alright in any aspect of your life. However even with that dedication, it’s also your job to keep him intact. He focuses so much on you that he sometimes forgets to wind down.

Taking him out on something with a serene atmosphere usually does the trick. Bring tons of books to entertain yourselves, and if the stories get too old, you chat about things you have yet to tell each other. Dan Heng really appreciates the effort you put in, investing your time in him despite the fact that you’re running a conglomerate, but even then just a little gesture from you is enough for him to know how grateful you are for his own efforts as well.

Old married couple 2.0. March said so herself when she decided to barge into your home to show you her pictures from her recent travels. She and the raccoon are tied at the tally of visits. Often they just crash just to make sure Dan Heng hasn’t driven you insane yet with his very… unromantic nature. Safe to say March still couldn’t believe that dear old Dan Heng was the first to pop the question in tying the knot.

Speaking of unromantic, your husband does come off as one, often giving you practical solutions than giving you any words of comfort when you’re stressed. And perhaps it’s because you understood that’s his way of romancing you that you and him ended up married in the first place.

Exhaustion was more of a friend than a foe after having to bury yourself in the tower stacks of paperwork. It’s times like these that you had to wonder if running the family company is even worth it.

“I’m too tired to driiiiive,” you whined, looking at the spreadsheets in exasperation.

And as if he had a sixth sense, a knock on your door was heard and you gave the green light with little regard for the person behind the door. You then looked up and almost cried at the sight of your beautiful husband, with two coffees in hand.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” it was all he had to say to prompt what little motivation you had left in your system, letting your sluggish self spring back to life. You bound to him with a grateful smile on your face and greeted him with an embrace.

You took one cup from him and graced him with a kiss on his cheek, “Hang on, let me get some take home work. I need to at least finish a good third of this.”

Your poor husband was a lot more worried than he could let on with his stoic face — seeing you on the ropes, completely hard at work and barely functioning at the sheer exhaustion was almost enough to tempt him into stopping you from bringing home your work. Alas, he supported you regardless and only thought to compensate for your extra work with an even better dinner.

“Anything you want for tonight?” He asked, thoughtful as always.

“Mmm… chicken fried rice?”

“Chicken fried rice it is.”

𐂂

CAELUS

Not a single soul expected for this man to get married. Everyone thought he’d just end up on the streets willingly, constantly rummaging through trash can after trash can, falling in love with one and settling down with it in his own odd way. Surprise surprise, he is now a househusband that digs through the high end trash cans placed inside your shared home.

Quite frankly, if Caelus was being honest, he also did not expect to trip into you and quite literally fall in love. And for you to reciprocate it. He always thought you two were just the best of friends, with you supporting his hobbies with little to no judgment. So imagine his surprise that he keeps feeling every time he wakes up right next to you (and right next to his five foot pillow of a trashcan, but it’s a separate affair on its own).

Moving aside your husband’s very odd addiction of living the life of a trash panda, Caelus is actually a pretty decent househusband. His specialities are mostly the meals he makes for you. They’re always so delicious and is often the highlight of your day even without him around.

He’s very active around the neighborhood and is always armed with the latest news around town. The other stay at home spouses love him. And you were quite surprised to find out that he’s far more connected in the very place you both live in than you could ever be. When you’re free, you’d sometimes accompany him to the market and somehow end up staying very late because a lot of people recognize him and seem to want to chat with him.

Caelus parades you around as his beloved husband and people are just dropping jaws when they realize you have definitely been interviewed in one of those famous magazines about businesses and all that jazz.

Surprisingly, just like Sampo, Caelus is your man when it comes to spending wisely and learning how to haggle. He knows his way around almost everything and even you couldn’t help but be proud of yourself of fishing out such a dashing man that is wise in finances. Good man, honestly.

One fact about him that you like are his skills in caring for children. There’s something so wonderfully domestic whenever you would come home early and see him playing with the children — Hook and Clara, if you can recall. He’s mostly just babysitting for them on days that he’s not completely hammered to death with housework.

His favorite thing to do with you is grocery shopping at night. Just the two of you cruising around every aisle, more often than not, you’d push the cart with him in it getting gradually buried by every item you decided to purchase. It’s a good way to spend some time together while getting something productive done. And perhaps coax you into buying a little more food than you and him intended in the first place. Dan Heng always advices you not to be too swayed by your husband antics… but it’s clearly not working.

Caelus is a silly little man, with his weird eccentric jokes and his equally strange fascination for all things related to trash cans. But it’s probably because of this that you found yourself enamored. He is your respite in the suffocating world of your workforce. He pushes you in situations you never thought would be fun unless he was with you.

“If you loved me, you would’ve gotten ten more boxes of cookies.”

“And if you loved me, you wouldn’t be willingly burying yourself in that cart instead of helping me pick between chocolate or strawberry milk.” You quipped back with a snarky grin, not even bothering to look at your childish husband who continued to be sprawled out in the cart at ten in the evening while you shopped.

Caelus pouted, you always did make good points. It’s why he could never win an argument against you. Or maybe he could… if he wasn’t so completely smitten at the sight of you. You were always seen as the dignified boss of your company, dressed in three piece suits that could suffocate anyone and their wallet.

But here you were, dressed in a loose shirt (likely one of his just judging from the fit) and some pair of joggers that you haphazardly threw on.

Absolutely breathtaking.

He lent out a hand to reach for the carton of flavored milk that you finally chose, adding it onto the pile. He waited until you were at the end of the cart, getting ready to muscle your way through pushing an incredibly heavy cart, courtesy of your husband.

Caelus looked up at you, “Don’t I at least get a kiss for helping out?”

“Cae, I’m dying from pushing you. How ‘bout we entertain that incentive once you got out of the cart and started helping me, hm?”

Maybe he’s just a simp, but how could he deny his demanding husband’s whims?

𐂂

WELT YANG

This old man is the definition of a reluctant retiree. Well, it’s not actually a retirement for him. He still gets to be the voice of reason, only that he won’t actually personally animating. Who’s to blame? You. To be accurate, this old man officially decided to step down from his hands-on job as an animator so he can be a househusband. You’re a priority after all, and only the heavens know how bad you need to be taken care of.

Welt joins the ranks of a godly househusband. He knows his way around almost every single thing that needs to get fixed. His cooking? Top tier. His housework game? Absolute perfection. Floors are swept, counters are wiped and dusted, sheets and clothes are washed and pressed. He is perfect.

And on top of that, he still manages to balance his work from home as the consultant for any new anime that is about to be produced and can still care for you without even breaking a sweat. Old man Welt is always pulling through.

So let’s get this out of the way — actual old married couple. Not just vibes. You two are old men who look at the screen with squinted eyes. Well, only Welt does that while you laugh at him and then proceed to forget where you placed your own phone despite being on it just a few minutes ago.

Regardless, you live a much more balanced life, just two husbands cruising through life with little worries. You live on a good neighborhood, living comfortably and get a lot of visits from yours and Welt’s friends/family. Most of which are from the trio and Himeko. You and Welt always host these family dinners on weekends where everyone is free. Life is good.

However despite all the glamour of living a comfortable life in this marriage, there is one glaring difference between you and Welt — mostly it’s the fact that you have worse time management than he does and often gets the short end of the stick, always pummeled to death with your paperwork that could leave anyone in a fit of raw despair. Welt looked at your work the one time you left to answer a phone call from office and shuddered at the heavy load.

Welt is essentially your clock when it’s time to unwind from work. You have a tendency to overwork at times and it’s something that Welt always makes sure to keep an eye out for. He just wants what’s best for you, and oftentimes, what’s best is for you is to finally get some shuteye after suffering through another overnight that you pulled.

Also, there is an unspoken rule of not letting any man with long blonde hair inside your home. It’s just a house rule. The top of all other house rules in fact, as it takes the most priority in fulfilling.

Regardless, Welt is so… househusband-shaped. He knows what to do as one and does a damn good execution of it all. Maybe it’s because of his compassionate self that you were quick to fall for the old man. He didn’t even have to try and show off, all he had to do was be himself and you’d still give him the world with every penny you’ve earned from your job.

A taut frown tugged onto Welt’s lips as he squinted on the labels from the spices that Himeko sent from her recent overseas trip. Not that he didn’t trust his good friend’s tastes in any form of flavor, it’s only that he wanted to make sure none of it had any ingredient that could probably send you into an anaphylactic shock. Yes, he is this meticulous when it comes to you.

Alas, his cautiousness grants no extra clear sight in viewing the labels and he struggled, holding them in different proximities. Are the characters really that small intentionally or are they so incoherent because they manufacturers made an error in the sizing the font before printing it on the packaging.

Fortunately for him, you came into the rescue as you plucked the packaging from his hands. Welt didn’t need to look up to see the same smug smile plastered on your face whenever you’d catch him doing the same thing to his phone. Well, he loved looking at you so he did it nonetheless.

“Having trouble again, old man?” You teased and Welt only had to sigh in response. “Is this from Himeko’s package?”

Your endeared husband nodded, “Of course. I had to see what else she gave us. And I’m looking over the ingredients so I can keep you out of the hospital as best as I can.” He turned to the stove and lowered the heat. “Now kindly read it for me, dear.”

You only nodded, flipping over the packet, “Sure thing.”

There was a silence that followed, with Welt expecting you to run your mouth about the ingredients already. He looked back to you…

…And saw you squinting at the same bundle of text that he’s been staring at.

Welt scoffed, playful and light in nature, “And you call me old.”

“It’s the manufacturer’s fault…!!”

[eideticallys]

WooPea!

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you start your day right, cracking science jokes & making spencer reid smile. the other bau team members be damned! or, you crack the worst jokes in the planet & emily has had enough of it.

genre: fluff

word count: 481

author's notes: one thing about me is i enjoy spencer's tangents so i hope you'll enjoy this one. also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

MAYBE IT WAS A LITTLE BIT IMMATURE OF YOU TO CRACK THE SILLIEST SCIENCE JOKES TO GET THE ATTENTION YOU WANTED FROM THAT ONE COWORKER OF YOURS. But who cares? One smile from Dr. Spencer Reid, and you’ve turned into mush, a completely melted piece of goo. What makes you want to crack stupid jokes is the fact that right after smiling brightly like he was the sun himself, Spencer would go off on one of his tangents, explaining the mechanics and science behind whatever it is you just joked about. 

And so, you do it every single day as soon as you enter the bullpen, Spencer quickly rushing to your side to hear what you have to say while the others—Emily, Derek, and JJ—are quick to reach their invisible soundproof headphones—ready to muffle the sounds of yours and Spencer’s giggles.

It’s surprising to them that both of you still haven’t realized that one is in love with the other. It’s cute but irritating. The amount of mutual pining and stupidity from two of the brightest minds in the FBI, being able to profile prolific criminals but not the person who’s always two steps away from the other. At this point, both of you were joined at the hip. If they saw you, there’s no doubt Spencer is right behind you, and vice versa. 

And today is just like any other day, you arrived with a new joke in mind, and Spencer rushed to your side ready to hear you. 

“What did Gregor Mendel say when he founded Genetics?” You perkily asked the man beside you handing you your coffee. “And thanks for the coffee, Reid.”

“What?” Reid questioned as he nodded at your thanks. 

“WooPea!” You laughingly replied as you could hear the simultaneous groans of three other people behind Reid. “You do know I could hear all three of you, right?” You frowned jokingly.

“We know. That’s why we’re groaning.” 

“Oh, come on, you guys!” Spencer came to your defense. “It was a funny joke! Gregor Mendel would’ve definitely said that. The Pisum sativum, or what we commonly know as the garden pea, helped him carry out a lot of key experiments that studied inheritance. Even geneticists still use that nowadays.”  

Spencer continued babbling which you encouraged as you both sat down at your respective tables. Both of you too lost in your bubble to hear the others, Emily sighed and turned to Derek and JJ.

“I’ve had enough of those two.” She muttered a bit bitterly. “If not one of them confesses by the end of the week, or so help me God! I will take it in my hands and lock them inside a closet to figure it out.”

Both Derek and JJ broke out in fits of laughter, catching both yours and Spencer’s attention.

“Hey! Fill us both in on what’s going on!” 

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Chivalry, Secrets & Hot Tubs (Week One)

[strangers to friends to lovers, age gap (56/mid 20s), forced proximity, no outbreak]

(Series) Content Warning: a very, very lonely joel miller. copious amounts of lusting, tension, joel is an excellent cook (food, alcohol, ect), hot tubs, impromptu snowball fights, awkward situations, deep talks and tragic backstories (specified within chapter warnings, deeply depraved smut/sexcapades and the inappropriate use of a dining table (also specified within chapter warnings), nicknames of endearment (no use of y/n)

quick note: i love all the reblogs/feedback and that you're all enjoying this as much as i am <3 and a huge thank you to @swiftispunk for being the best and looking over the first chapter for me, i am completely scatter-brained and forgot to mention this when i posted last monday, so tysm han and pls go check her out if you haven't! & follow my fic update blog (@pedgitos) and turn on post notifications so you don't miss any updates/posted fics!

Chapter Summary: Settling in is easier than you expect, but it does come with a fair share of challenges. A week filled with getting to know one another and some moments shared, your week doesn't end on the best note, leaving you with a choice.

Chapter Warnings: (8k) no outbreak, grumpy!Joel, domestic shenanigans, Joel being naturally assertive, cooking dinner together, reading is good at encouraging Joel, one hot tub & two stubborn individuals, also...one bed trope incoming

You wake up refreshed, like you’ve been born with a new reverence for life—alright, it might be a bit of an overstatement but it’s a wonder what a decent night of sleep could do and you’re feeling that this idea, playing house with a stranger—though it wasn’t much like that anymore—wasn’t the worst choice. And it reminds you of Joel, having left him in the chair last night, not wanting to burden him but you can only imagine the ache in his bones, his back, the discomfort of sleeping in a chair all night. 

You lay for a moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The morning sunshine wasn’t strong here, blanketed out by a stark white snow that covered the ground, it muted out most colors and left a cool, but bright blue that shined through the window above your bed. 

It was peaceful. No cars, no buzz of strong electricity outside your window, people and their idle conversation a few floors down from your apartment window. Not even a bird, really. But, there’s a distinct clearing of a throat from the living room that has you stirring in bed, rising lazily as you move with the same enthusiasm. 

It was a fresh week. The first official week of your vacation and you were going to start it off on a good note, clambering out of the bed and slipping on a pair of fluffy slippers to keep your toes from freezing off, not bothering to glance in a mirror on the way out—not that you needed to, it didn’t matter. It was early, you were still trying to shed the sleep from your body and you could care less. Plus, it wasn’t like an old t-shirt and sleep shorts was some foreign concept. 

When you peek around the corner, arms crossed tightly over your chest, you can spot Joel’s head tilting to one side, hand kneading at the taut muscle in the center of his back where his neck starts to begin and then you’re stuck watching as he stretches his arms out wide, working out all of those muscles. Every single one. And you’ve been silent for far too long.

Yeah.

Clearing your throat softly, you approach from behind and keep your distance, announcing your presence like you hadn’t been lingering for a minute or two already. 

“Morning,” You greet politely, resting your weight against the edge of the island, taking in full view of a freshly awoken Joel, eyes still puffy from sleep.

He looks very…gentle. Surprisingly, so. It softens his rigid demeanor significantly and you have to silently talk yourself out of glaring at him for too long, “I didn’t want to wake you—I’m so sorry.”

Jeez—you two are getting good at that. Apologizing, afraid to step on each other’s toes. 

“Not your fault,” Joel massages his bicep with the heavy pressure of his thumb, looking slightly pained as he rolls his shoulders, “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“Yeah, but I forced you to stay up, so—”

“You didn’t,” Joel quickly shuts you down, “I’m a grown man,” there’s a laugh hidden somewhere in there, but Joel continues, “don’t blame yourself for my own irresponsibility.”

It’s too early for this. You force on a fake smile, void of any real emotion at this hour, running on fumes and the smell of coffee. Speaking of—you sniff, eyes searching for the smell like a dog would track a scent, and Joel is already pointing in the direction you should be looking for when your eyes land on him.

“I already finished it off on my own,” Joel admits, pointedly taking another long sip before resting the mug back on the counter, “I can get another pot goin’ if you need it.”

There’s an inclination to let him, seeing him assert himself so easily and offer, but you shake your head, “I think I can handle a coffee maker,” You assure him, meandering around the kitchen in search of the coffee grounds, ignoring Joel’s tracking of your movements, waiting for a moment to interject and point you in the right direction. You spot them a moment before the urge comes with a soft aha!

“I needed to make a drive into town,” Joel tells you after you’ve gone through the steps of starting your own batch of coffee, “pick up some more food, figured you might wanna tag along.”

He’s not asking, only assuming. But to be fair, his assumption is right. 

“Sure,” You reply cooly, pouring yourself a hefty cup of coffee to sip on, letting your body take hold of the caffeine, “...how far away is the closest town?”

“Hour and a half.” Joel answers and you almost have the nerve to go wide-eyed on him, but then you remember just how deep into the woods you both were and that it was necessary.

Truthfully, there was a more concerning matter at hand.

“How’s your music taste?” 

Joel has the gall to look offended by the question.

“I’m leavin’ in thirty,” Joel ignores you, “don’t think I won’t hesitate to leave you here.”

Okay, noted: Joel wasn’t much the morning person you assumed he was.

-

Joel immediately realizes how little disregard you have for touching things that aren’t yours when you reach for the makeshift box of cassettes tapes placed in the backseat of his truck—the thing was old, riding on it’s last leg, but it was something Joel would cherish until it was unsalvageable, torn seats, dents, and all.

“Ain’t gonna find anything you like in there,” Joel assures you, “None of that pop stuff they’re always playin’ on the radio these days.”

The tables turn on him suddenly, seeing your face contort into a similar emotion that he gave you earlier. Bewilderment, shock, annoyance. You scoff at the comment.

“Says you,” You retort back, sifting through the different cassettes until you find Joel trading glances between you and the road in front of him, almost worried you might chuck his collection out of the passenger side window, “Joel, eyes on the road.”

Joel enjoys a lot of country, which isn’t a total disbelief. But, it wasn’t something you shared the sentiment on, flicking away a handful of country artists you’ve never listened to and reaching some of the good stuff—older rock music, some classic 80s, and late 90s.

You pluck one out carefully, prying open the cassette case with gentle hands before sliding the tape in, allowing the low hum of the music to fill the car. There’s a brief moment of respite before Joel smirks to himself, thumb tapping against the steering wheel.

“What were you saying?” You look at him pointedly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Joel looks away briefly, biting back a chuckle, “Fine—I’ll give you some credit. Foo Fighters aren’t terrible, but you skipped right over Bruce Springsteen, so…”

You scoff in disbelief, “You don’t get to criticize me with that atrocious collection of country music,” You stare down at the box in thought, eyes brimming with a mischievous that Joel knows of immediately, he’s seen it before. Not with you, but he knows, “you know, maybe I should just do you a favor and—”

You can barely get a hand on the window roller before Joel’s hand is gripped tight over the box, trapping your other hand in his grip as he warns, “I’m not above leavin’ you stranded in the cold.”

Your grin is nothing but evil and Joel finds that there’s something about you that infuriates him in a way that is hard to describe, not in anger or rage, but a level that he thinks he could match. A game of back and forth that he could play into—but you’re quickly relenting regardless of the threat and placing the box on the floorboard.

“Already tried that,” You retort, “didn’t work too well for you, did it?”

Fair is fair. Joel doesn’t poke the beast.

Instead, he takes the chance to ask a question.

“So, what exactly was your plan?” Joel asks curiously. “You comin’ out here with no car and all?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Didn’t really have one, but I would have figured it out.”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, subtly resembling a face of disapproval.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me, okay?” You don’t wait for a response, “You can have whatever assumptions you want about me, but don’t try and act like you know anything about me.”

It was another reminder. Joel didn’t know you, but you didn’t know him either. You reign your frustration in slightly, quick to defend yourself but aware that not everyone handles confrontation in the same way—if Joel was quick to anger, you didn’t want to stoke the fire. 

“I’m not,” Joel argues, his voice calmer than you expect, thinking back to the saddled rage his voice held the night you arrived, the threat that lingered with every word, “I’m not, alright?”

“Then stop that.” You comment, waving your hand in a vague motion toward his face, “Stop looking at me like—”

“Like what?” Joel interjects, eyes more pensive as he looks over at you.

“Like—like I need a fucking lecture on life or my choices,” You tell him, a hint of pleading in your voice, “I’m not some kid who doesn’t understand how life works.”

“You’re not a kid—” 

“Good, great that we established that,” You lean back in the seat more comfortably, arms crossed over your chest as you keep your eyes on the snow covered road, “now shut up so I can enjoy the music.”

Thankfully, Joel does just that.

-

Conversation falls flat until you arrive at the store in town a while later, Joel fetching a cart and pushing it your way before he stops you suddenly, hand over your own again—a touch that normally you would flinch away from, but he’s already done it once before and the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

“I’ll catch up,” Joel tells you, “I forgot somethin’ in the car.”

You glance back briefly, knowing that the walk isn’t that far. 

“Oh, I can wait. It’s fine.”

Joel doesn’t say so much, but the look in his eyes goes a long way. A silent plea for you to go with it and don’t ask questions—again, you didn’t have any right to. You nod quickly and wander off toward the store as Joel trails away.

It’s then when your phone starts to vibrate away in your pocket, the sudden availability of service sending a barrage of notifications your way—you’re terrified to take a glimpse, but you do anyway. It should be no surprise to bear witness to the many, many texts from your mother wondering where you’d run off to, but there’s a tinge of guilt settling in your stomach.

You send her a quick, dismissive text to explain that you were fine and enjoying your time, but no elaboration on the things she wanted to know, because really, there was nothing to tell. And if you did decide to expel the details of your trip, mentioning that there was no boyfriend and it was just a stranger you met in the middle of the woods, well…that wouldn’t go over smoothly.

You also find a quick, heated moment of frustration to send an unpleasant text to the owners of the cabin, still polite enough that it wouldn’t warrant your ability to work things out—and you decide that calling would reach them faster, that somehow they’d magically find a way to appear and fix things, but there’s no answer. Only a voicemail that gave vague details about being away on their own vacation.

Just your luck.

Great. You sigh deeply, shoving the phone away into your pocket and returning to the land of obliviousness as you step inside the small market.

You fend for yourself for a while, throwing several random necessities in the cart as you go, enough sustenance to spread over four weeks and manage meals the entire trip, also a few more bottles of alcohol don’t hurt, looking for a few hard liquors that catch your eye and adding them to the growing supply of items. 

You’re lost in concentration of the ingredients on the back of a box dinner when Joel’s voice startles you back to the real world, eyes jumping up to look at him and he spots the panic immediately.

He nods slightly when you recognize him, “Sorry, keep forgettin’ how jumpy you are.”

“You’re just ridiculously fucking quiet,” You tell him, breathing out a long sigh as you toss the box into the cart, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Joel assures, doesn’t elaborate. Okay, cool. You weren’t going to pry, no matter how much your instincts told you to. He scans the cart casually, “Mind tradin’ off?”

You lend him the lead and follow, watching as he pointedly finds things, like he’s reading off a list in his head and moves around the store with a purpose. It’s only slightly annoying that you have to keep pace with him, but he’s suddenly speaking out to you as he’s glancing over something on the bottom shelf, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” You responded, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “Why?”

“Grab some of that fresh rosemary,” Joel says, pointing out somewhere behind you and you whip around, eyes searching furiously and coming up empty, “—find it?”

You’re a little dumbfounded as you search the shelf of fresh herbs, Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching behind you as he reaches over your shoulder and plucks the exact thing he’s looking for with ease, “Hey, I had the right idea.” You defend, noticing how amused he looked at your befuddlement, “And you didn’t answer my question, either.”

“Well,” He tosses the small, plastic package in the cart, still tucked up at your side and you can feel his body heat, the solid wall of his chest against your shoulder, “don’t like the idea of accidentally killin’ you if I cook something you’re allergic to.”

“Well, what if I’m lying?” You challenge and Joel shoves you aside gently to grab the cart, hands on your shoulder as he shifts you away—and when had things gotten so…touchy?

Truthfully, Joel finds it easier than telling you, noting how quickly you quiet down when he asserts himself and does rather than asks. He knows if it made you uncomfortable you wouldn’t have had a problem speaking up immediately. 

“Look at me,” And there’s a deep timbre to his voice that has your chest sparking like a fire, eyes connecting with Joel’s for longer than you’ve ever allowed and it’s like he sees right through you, but he’s searching for something, “—you’re not lyin’.”

“But, if I was?”

Joel nearly leaves you in the dust, but turns to look at you with a subtle grin.

“Well, now I know you’re not.”

–

The ride back is easier, much easier—and Joel doesn’t fault you when you fall asleep halfway through, the heat of the car and the low hum of the music like a perfect mix as you curl in on yourself. Joel wakes you with a gentle hand on your shoulder when you finally make it back, allowing you a moment to shake the grogginess away with a word over his shoulder as he opens his door.

“Careful over that patch of ice on your side,” Joel instructs, “gettin’ colder so it’s slicker than it was a couple days ago.”

Careful. You roll your eyes carelessly, nudging the door open with your shoulder and hopping out, boots hitting the hard ground—your first mistake was underestimating the slickness and Joel’s warning, because the moment you take your first step it’s all downhill. Literally.

Luckily though, like a moment of divine faith as you pray that you don’t hit the ground, Joel is right at your back, arms slipping under your own as he plants his feet firmly and catches you. One arm crossing somewhere over your midsection and the other wrapping around your shoulder, a large palm holding you steady as he helps you back to your feet. You can feel him on the brink of making a comment, eyes looking down tenderly into your own—

“Don’t ask.” You warn him bitterly, face scrunched up like a kicked puppy, shrugging him off lazily. Joel doesn’t argue, making sure you’re steady before he allows you himself to fully let go.

Joel shakes his head subtly, a nuisance of his, and rounds the back of the truck to reach for the bagged groceries, “Fine, I’ll just say I told you so then. How’s that?”

Worse. 

-

Joel never asks for help, doesn’t even seem bothered when you stand there aimlessly, watching him stow away the groceries like he already had a game plan and you feel slightly useless, but it does give you a good opportunity to watch without any explicit reason or excuse. 

There’s an obvious purpose to Joel’s movement, clear that he’s used to doing a lot of heavy lifting and keeping up, probably prefers organization over clutter, and has a certain inclination to do things himself, always. And you can’t help the way your gaze clings to his face, noticing something a little off—not good or bad, just slightly different. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but with the extended amount of time your eyes lingered on him, you realize he’s cleaned up a bit, shaved his beard down to near stubble, a subtle difference…but you notice.

You’re not sure how long you’re stuck in this state, arms resting against the counter as you stood there, practically useless, thinking about what Joel looks like on a regular basis, when he isn’t cooped up in a cabin in the dead of winter. You want to see that side of him, crave it. It’s an insane thought that doesn’t make sense, eyes widening suddenly at the realization of the thought you’re having—

“You still with me?” Joel’s voice calls out in the haze, muffled slightly as you come back into focus, eyes landing on him. “Think I lost you there for a minute.”

“Oh—no. I mean, yeah. I’m still a little tired, I guess.” It’s a bold face lie, but Joel seems to believe you. “Why?”

“I was sayin’ I need to go chop up some wood for the fireplace,” He explains again, “then you went all wide eyed…”

“Oh, okay,” You nod jerkily, “...do you need help?”

Joel immediately declines. No surprise there.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Joel suggests, “I can manage just fine on my own.”

Sleep sounds great, but it doesn’t happen. 

You try—you do, but the splitting of wood, the strong crack of the axe catching the wood outside of your bedroom window, it isn’t exactly soothing to the ears. So, you find yourself wandering into the kitchen, peeking between the curtains with a wild curiosity that reminds you of when you were younger and trying to catch a peek of the cute boy next door, a bashfulness replaced with a deep, insatiable hunger that you didn’t know existed until this moment. 

Joel was attractive, you could easily admit that. But, seeing him now, it’s a done deal. There was a deep pit of despair in your mind and you were stuck at the bottom with no way out.

It’s almost abysmal how easy he makes it look, the axe he’d brandish as his weapon of choice against you swung over his shoulders, the unfortunate lack of skin stretching over taut muscles as he went through the motions, covered up by thick layers. But, you get the idea. 

There’s a slight pout forming on your face before you catch yourself.

He slices full power through the wood like it was eager to give way to him. You also find that his face tugs up in a scowl after every swing of the axe, a soft sigh of exerted energy as he tosses the logs to the side and starts up again. You could watch for hours. But, you settle for the few more minutes he spends collecting the wood before you’re scrambling back into your bedroom like you had been there the entire time.

Unfortunately, Joel isn’t oblivious. Still, he spares you the embarrassment. 

There was no reason for him to entertain whatever he thought might be going on. He couldn’t.

-

The next few days are uneventful, though that was to be expected. It allows you time to really settle in, usually curled up on the couch watching the fire crackle away until you thought your eyes might melt away, or reading a book that Joel always seemed to be trying to catch a peek at. There was an innocent curiosity there that you could appreciate.

You also learned that Joel only took his coffee one way, offering up your services to refill his cup while you refilled your own, sugar lingering over the rim and he’s quickly pushing away the small container of crystalized goodness. 

“Joel, come on–” You grimace but relent, placing the cylinder of sugar on the counter.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Is all he offers, almost challenging you to take a sip.

You accept, obviously. But, it isn’t without consequence.

The moment the bitterness hits your tongue you’re scrambling away, forcing the mug into Joel’s waiting hands and spitting out whatever putrid liquid remained in your mouth in the sink.

It’s the first time Joel actually laughs, a full on chuckle that isn’t very receptive on your end.

Joel apologizes with dinner that night, a gesture that wasn’t expected or needed, still you’re thankful nonetheless. But, it offers you the realization of just how good a cook Joel can be.

Steaks grilled to a perfection that only came with repetitive practice and learned techniques, vegetables sautéed and seasoned to an enjoyable level, and a side of pasta that if Joel told you he made from scratch, you would’ve believed wholeheartedly if you hadn’t seen him dump the entire box of pre-made pasta into a pot of boiling water.

You’re halfway through dinner, chewing thoughtfully on a bite when you finally break the long, but comfortable silence that had blanketed over you both.

“So, Joel,” There’s a tone to his name that catches his attention, eyes flicking up to meet yours mid-bite, “what do you do for work?”

At this point, your nosey tendencies take hold.

There’s a scrunch to Joel’s nose before he speaks, almost as if he considered feeding you a lie alongside the beautiful meal he’d made. He settles for a simple answer.

“Uh, carpentry.” Joel tells you after a long pause, “I—build stuff for people, businesses sometimes.”

That explains some of his sturdiness, his practiced strength that came from, probably, years of hard constructive work and building. It also explains why he’s also working away at his hands, rubbing out the stiff joints and knuckles.

“I know what carpentry is, Joel.” You deadpan, but there’s a playfulness lingering in your voice. 

You assume he’s used to explaining himself often, which is why he forces it on you so easily.

“And you?” Joel asks suddenly, “College? You’re about that age, right?”

You snort softly at the tone he offers, slightly patronizing, but all in good fun.

“I’m taking a semester off,” You answer indifferently, remembering how disappointed your parents had been about the ordeal, but you were suffocating, “I’m not sure what I want to do anymore.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel assures, “can’t fault you either. Never went to college so I don’t have an opinion on it.”

There’s no judgment on your end, but for the sake of conversation, you bite.

“Any reason?” You ask curiously, wondering if you'd receive the similar sentiment that it’s all just bullshit.

“Didn’t have the money,” Joel answers simply, “didn’t have the grades, either. I thought I could start my own business out of carpentry, but…”

But…you lean into the table slightly, hanging on his words.

“You need a lot of money for that,” Joel finishes, “and, I mean, I’m livin’ comfortable now, but that idea took a lot of money that I didn’t and still don’t have.”

“So, you waste it on month long vacations in the middle of the woods,” You surmise humorously, nodding in approval, “can’t say I blame you, either.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, chewing around a bite as he speaks, “Your turn.”

Right. An eye for eye. A question for a question. He's watching you expectantly, waiting for you to give a response to the same question you asked him. 

“Oh—I work out of this bookstore in downtown Austin.” You admit, finishing up the last few bites of your food, scraping the plate nearly clean. “It pays the bills and then some. I like it.”

There’s no compliment needed for the food, all the evidence of it gone. But, you feel the need to appreciate it anyways.

“Thanks for this, Joel.” You speak again, softer this time. 

“It’s no big deal, darlin’.” Joel assures you, holding up his hands in a feeble defense at the compliment, clearly something he doesn’t welcome easily. “Just food.”

“It’s been...months,” You tell him, “since I’ve had any type of home-cooked meal. Take the damn thank you, Joel.” 

He smirks at that, seeing the threatening fork raise before you utter those final words.

“You’re welcome.”

And he means it.

–

You force Joel to stay seated while you clean, knowing it was the least you could do after he spent so much time preparing and cooking dinner. There’s a solid few minutes of arguing before you have to physically shove Joel back into his chair despite his protests, hands pressed into his shoulders as you threateningly speak down to him.

 “If you move, I’m locking your ass out in the cold.”

Joel wouldn’t mind, but you’re silently hoping that he’ll just listen.

After all is done, tossing the damp washcloth to the side, you sigh with a newfound relaxation.

There’s only one thing that might top off this night, making it almost the first perfect day here.

“That’s it, I’m getting in the hot tub,” You decide, squeezing tenderly at the tense muscles of your neck, thankful that the owners had a small alcove connected to the cabin that allowed for you to enjoy the hot tub from the safety of the cold, “join me?”

You’re not sure what inclines you to ask so openly, but you don’t second guess it.

“While I appreciate the offer,” Joel starts, “I don’t think I brought the proper…attire.”

He’s still seated where you had him planted and it makes you laugh softly at the idea that he was taking it seriously, which—yeah, you did threaten the possibility of hypothermia on him. 

“Fine,” You relent, rounding the corner of the island closest to him as you quickly call out over your shoulder, “but, there’s still a couple of chairs in there if you need the company.”

He didn’t need just anyone’s either and didn’t need, so much as wanted.

He wanted your company.

A while later, you’re already waist deep in the hot tub, figure hugging white bikini tied back securely, arms resting against the side furthest from the door as you press your chin against your forearms and staring out the wall of vast windows that line the room, allowing a view of the snow storm outside, coming down in a flurry that seemed to only be gaining in strength—and Joel, well, he’s still sitting in that stupid chair.

He’s allowed himself too much time in his own head, thinking over the events of the past few days. His call to Sarah was pleasant, a much needed moment of peace when he hears his daughter’s bright, hyper voice on the other end. When he doesn’t have her for the holidays, it’s hard. The calls are sparse, the communication is clipped, and it feels like he’s being forced away from her, knowing that she’s growing older every day. That he is growing older.

He’s allowed a lot of his life to slip away, when he wasn’t working to pay bills and put food on the table he was usually drinking, bar-hopping with Tommy at his old age to hide the pain he felt everyday, mentally and physically. There’s a problem brewing under his skin, using the company of his brother and alcohol to cope with loss he feels so viscerally everyday. The life he could’ve had.

He feels pitiful, miserable—only took this damn trip to get out of town by the suggestion of Tommy, away from all distractions, hoping for a refresh to clear his head. But instead, he met you.

He had no clue what the fuck to do anymore.

Joel’s never processed emotions well, feelings or anything thereof. 

But, here he was, lusting after you. 

He knows it’s the excitement, the taboo idea around sharing something special with a stranger. Someone who knows nothing about you, someone who doesn’t have the leverage to judge. Someone who doesn’t have to know about all the wrongs he’s committed and bad choices he’s made. 

You’re not privy to the fucked up version of Joel that belongs in his hometown, cooped up in his childhood home that he inherited from his parents, filled with too many now painful memories that he’d made with Sarah when she was younger—when he still had her.

He can’t help the way his mind races every single second of the day, constantly worrying, always trying to busy himself with something, anything to keep that lingering cloud of anxiety away. But, when he thinks about you, even something so mundane as the way you squint to get a closer look at a paragraph of the book you’ve probably read a thousand times, his mind goes quiet. 

Because, frankly, he’s fascinated by the idea of you. That maybe, just maybe, you weren’t actually real. He’s halfway leaning toward the idea that he’s had a full mental break and this is all an illusion he’s cooked up in his head, but then he reminds himself that you are just as full a human as himself. There is a reason for this, even if there had to be some other force at play. 

Maybe you needed this as badly as he did.

A fresh start, no judgment.

And that’s why he decides to follow you, the moment he catches a glimpse of you as you turn the corner to take the steps down into the room that connected to the kitchen, a full glimpse of skin and body that he’s tried to keep his mind off of, despite how openly you stare at him.

There has to be something there. He can’t have imagined all of this.

You feel his presence when the creak of wood gives him away, one hand shoved into his front pocket and his other arm helping him stay upright as he leaned against the doorframe. The steam billows and settles like a cloud over the bubbling hot tub but does nothing to hide how see-through your bathing top is and the slick slope of your breasts, his eyes trailing down toward the small bow that was sewn to the midpoint of your top and know he’s staring at your chest, very openly—Joel’s immediately regretting his choice.

Your eyes follow his but you dare not speak, afraid to startle him.

Now who was the jumpy one?

“Change your mind?” You ask curiously, shimming the expanse of the hot tub as you grab onto the opposite ledge, resuming your previous position, closer to Joel now. If you reached out you could touch the edge of his flannel and soak the trim, maybe even pull him closer, but you resist the urge. “It feels amazing. I’m serious.”

It wasn’t a ploy to get him in, but it wouldn’t hurt. He doesn’t respond, eyes staring at the soft wave of the water as it hits your side, his posture rigid. 

Maybe you’d broken him.

“Joel,” You call out with a soft nudge to his thigh, as far as you could reach with your fingertips, cutting into his line of sight, offering a friendly smile, “just strip down to your underwear and get in.”

“I don’t think—”

Oh, for christ sake. 

“You wouldn’t have come over here if you weren’t at least thinking about enjoying the benefits of the hot tub,” You argue, “so stop being grumpy and strip. I won’t even look.”

It shouldn’t sound as gritty as it does, a playful venom in your tone as you sink back slightly.

It makes Joel feel like he’s back in high school, flirting with who would eventually be his ex-wife and mother of his daughter, but there’s an assertiveness that intrigues Joel, your willingness to put yourself out there without fear. Take a leap, a jump, and hope that someone will catch you. 

Joel caught you, he just needed someone to catch him.

You spot his fidgeting, the wheels and cogs in his mind turning and he just needs that shove.

Just enough.

You rise over the edge, palms pressed flat to bear your weight and squeeze your breasts together, belly button nearly level with the water as you’re close enough to see the fine details of his face, giving him a look that Joel couldn’t deny.

“Get. In.” You stress the words, making direct eye contact. “You can thank me later.”

Finally, he moves. 

You sink back slightly into the pool and wade the water until you hit a corner, watching briefly as Joel works away at the buttons on his flannel, quiet air filling with an unspoken tension. You try to busy yourself with the view outside, something that didn’t require you to look in the vicinity of Joel for a second, knowing that the moment felt more intimate than it needed to. But, it doesn’t stop that sparse glances over your shoulder to check on him, now barefoot and pulling his shirt over his shoulders, the fabric pulling and obscuring your view of his face and his view of you, staring so starkly at him in that moment.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. The freckles that speckle his shoulders, nearly invisible from this distance because of his tanned shoulders and the unevenness of the tan as it continues down his arm, varying in shades of intensity, undoubtedly from hours of working in the sun. There’s also a smaller patch of hair on his chest that with his short cropped beard, seems to be trimmed down too. His strong build doesn’t throw you off, though—solid muscle that flexed across his stomach as he yanked his shirt a little harder to get it over his head fully, not built in a way that rippled down his abdomen, but showed a sturdiness to his figure that had your body humming to a tune that reached down to your core, thighs squeezing together under the water. 

Joel passes the shirt off into a waiting arm chair, clothes slowly piling on the cushion alongside your towel and he pops the button on his jeans, still unaware of your…innocent observation. But, the moment the jeans stretch over his thighs you swallow a little too hard and you’re immediately averting your eyes when he looks up briefly. 

Like you’d been caught. 

Joel clears his throat like a warning, as if he hadn’t felt your eyes on him the entire time, and swings a leg over carefully, a view of the black briefs that molded to his skin perfectly and hugged his backside in a way that feels criminally illegal…and you’re staring again.

He hisses at the sudden change in temperate, but inch by inch he lowers and adjusts, eventually huffing out a low groan, eyes closed, when he finally settles on the seat inside of the tub.

Suddenly, this felt like a terrible idea.

“See?” You break the revered silence for him, “Worth it?”

“Almost forgot how you just bullied me in here.” He jokes—full on fuckin’ jokes before cracking an eye open to catch your reaction, a subtle look of disbelief on your face. “I’m kidding, darlin'.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the seat under the water and you smile, a half-hearted roll of your eyes thrown his way before you relax too, for a moment.

“This is so weird,” You speak softly, after a while, and Joel looks slightly puzzled as he opens his eyes fully now, perking up slightly as he adjusts himself, chest rising over the water slightly, his arms hanging over the ledge with his fingers gripping the ceramic—and you’re gaze is drifting again, mostly to his hands, but you mask it as you look away briefly, down the hall or out the window. Literally anywhere but Joel, “it’s just—not how I expected things to go.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Joel replies with an underlying amusement.

As the quiet settles, slowly drifting closer to one side, where you originally were when Joel came searching for you—voluntarily, he lingered and waited, waited for the push you gave him—Joel joined alongside you, burrowing himself in the closet corner nook and enjoying the view in silence.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Joel comments, “everything alright?”

Everything was fine and you couldn’t make complete sense out of it. The ability to be so inherently comfortable with someone you’ve only known for a little under a week, the attraction you felt despite your own rational thinking telling you otherwise, the urge to connect openly and without fear of judgment. It terrifies you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask quietly, “Like…a real question, not those superficial ones that we’ve thrown at each other.”

Joel doesn’t like the sound of it, but there’s also the inclination that he could feed you a total lie and you wouldn’t have any idea otherwise.

He nods, fist resting against his cheek as he turns to look at you and suddenly the pressure is on, your heart racing in your chest at his sudden, full attention.

“Earlier…you said you forgot somethin’ in the car,” Joel’s fist clenches unknowingly under the water, an instinct to bury his reaction, “I know it isn’t my business, but I was just curious what is was.”

Joel, against every fiber in his being that tells him to deflect, gives you a straight answer. It’s almost startling how easily it comes out, like he’s lifting a weight off his chest that he’s carried for years.

“I had to make a call,” Joel admits, “to uh—my daughter, she’s back home with her mom.”

Your brow pulls together in confusion, “Wait, are you married?”

Joel somehow amidst the heaviness of admitting his truth still laughs, quick to defend himself from your next question.

“Oh, not at all. Never, actually.” Joel responds, “We…I never married her mom, it was obvious pretty quickly we weren’t going to work well together.”

The answer is simpler than you expect, different too. Part of you wondered if he was pleading his own case to the owners and was just as unsuccessful as you, but this is much more vulnerable.

And despite your ability to lie, and his own, neither of you can force it.

You don’t pry further, feeling like it may push things too far. Too personal.

“Okay, your turn.”

“Do I scare you?” Joel asks suddenly, almost like he’s been anticipating the moment too.

You’re almost sure the expression you return makes you look insane, feeling the implication that he might, that he thinks—it’s so far left field that it throws you off.

“No—no,” You quickly reject any lingering doubt he has, “I mean…the first night, maybe. But, now…no.”

“Oh.” It’s all Joel can muster, unsure of why he was expecting a different answer. That you would say yes and whatever shroud of thought he had about this moment you were sharing was only out of fear, that you were just trying to be polite. 

“Look, I get jumpy because you sneak up on me,” You answer, “and you have this…presence about you,” Okay, not the best wording, “not scary or anything, just…strong.” Big, like a wall. Like, if anyone were to ever approach you wrongly, Joel would attack without question. And maybe the fact that he would do that should scare you, but instead, it entices you.

Joel sits with the implication, burdened by his own mind. 

You can see him lost in thought, speaking with a comforting surety, “Thank you…for telling me.”

The truth. Thank you for telling me the truth.

The next stretch of time, what feels like an hour, is spent in a comforting silence. You think Joel is nearly falling asleep but then he moves, make a comment about how the snow won’t let up and eventually you’re forcing yourself out of the hot tub, reaching over the side to snatch your towel and sending all of Joel’s clothes descending to the floor in the process and as if you had a death wish on Joel, your ass pops up at an angle that is physically impossible to look away from.

Joel is a gentleman, he swears. He was raised to respect and care and always put women first, but there’s a split second where he can’t pull his eyes away, feels like he’s just caught a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have, but then you’re turning your head over your shoulder and you definitely catch him—you could ruin the moment and say something or you could ignore it.

Fortunately, you save Joel some embarrassment, covering it with a sly smile as you apologize for dropping his clothes and take the final step out and wrap the towel around your body.

“Shit,” You quickly realize that in the midst of your pushing Joel to join you that he didn’t have a towel, “stay here—I’ll go grab you a towel.”

Joel wasn’t eager to move anyways, admittedly. Sporting half a hard-on under the water, he wouldn’t subject himself to the scrutiny of your gaze or what implications it would make, thinking every horrible possible thought to will it away—luckily your timing is perfect. 

You quickly gather his dropped clothes and pile them in the chair as you toss the towel his way, ignoring any and all chances to glimpse at his wet body, back turned as you quickly excuse yourself away in fear of the idea that you might say something unforgettably stupid.

-

The walk to your separate bedroom is quick, swift, like a desperately needed escape. 

But, as fate would have it, the moment you open the door and wretch the towel away from your body there’s a loud pop! to your left and a spark on the outside that has you halfway on the floor and slamming into the wall out of both shock and an attempt to shield yourself from whatever unseen force was at play, yelping out loud in the process.

From an outside perspective, you can understand why Joel doesn’t hesitate to come running.

He runs straight into your back, bare chest pressed against your know bare shoulders and leaving you half-dressed in front of him, scared out of your wits and willing to grab onto whatever was nearby to keep you upright—fortunately, Joel’s arm is the perfect anchor as your hand wraps around his wrist and squeezes.

“What the hell?” Joel inquires, slightly out of breath as he searches your face for any signs of injury, “What happened?”

You both look at the culprit—the heated window unit that was no longer expelling heat, and while the cabin was still heated, it didn’t reach the bedrooms well enough that you weren’t shivering without some type of additional help. You sigh in frustration, eyes turning up towards the ceiling as you feel no shame, too frustrated to care as you lean into Joel’s chest.

“Shit.” It’s all Joel offers as a solution, not that you were expecting one. But, still, it would be nice.

“Yeah, shit.” You echo, pushing away from him suddenly to gather your damp towel and a change of clothes, padding your bare feet toward the living room, but Joel is grabbing your wrist before you get too far from him.

“Hey, woah,” He starts in a calmer tone, “you can take my room—I’ll drive into town tomorrow and see if I can get ahold of the owners, we’ll figure something out.”

“I already tried calling them,” You admit, “Earlier. Straight to voicemail and something tells me they won’t be answering their phones until after the holidays.”

Pulling away again, you continue your way toward the living room and gather a few pillows and blankets, tossing them on the larger couch beside the fireplace. Joel doesn’t seem to entertain the idea, following on your heels as he gathers each item you throw in that direction and you finally reach a point of full, unrestrained frustration. 

“Joel, cut the shit.”

“Take the room,” He offers as a counter, “I can sleep on the couch.”

With his back? Not a chance. But, he offers anyway.

“Fuck off,” You chuckle bitterly, “I’m not forcing you out of the bedroom.”

“Then it looks like we’re sharin’ the living room.”

You close your eyes, toss the blanket aside and breathe, clenching and unclenching your fists in an effort to not completely lose it on the man standing opposite of you.

Chivalry be damned, Joel wasn’t giving in.

Fine, two could play at that game.

“I’ll take the bed.” You quickly agree, but there’s a lingering ultimatum.

Joel waits, sees the thought brewing behind your pensive eyes.

“But, so will you.”

“Now—”

“No,” You interject, putting your figurative foot down, suddenly vividly reminded of your vulnerability as you stood there, still slightly damp and in a swimsuit that did nothing to cover your body—it was the reason Joel’s eyes were so pointedly stuck on your face, never lingering elsewhere, “either we both sleep in here on the couch or we share the bed.”

Joel’s hands shift to his hips, towel tight around his waist and you’re too annoyed to admire the way his muscles tense and flex with the movement, the underlying thickening desire settling beneath the surface.

You match his stance, daring him to challenge you.

A small part of you wants him too.

—

“Anyone ever told you you’re damn stubborn?” Joel asks, trailing behind you as you enter his bedroom, a clone of your own but with a small bathroom attached.

“All the time.” You answer truthfully. “I’m going to shower and sleep—no funny business.”

Meaning if Joel did sneak away into the living room to offer up the full amenities of his own room, he would feel your wrath tenfold.

Joel resigns to the idea and gathers his own pair of fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom down the hall, leaving you both to a moment of levity.

There’s no anticipation to the arrangement—but the idea is there, burrowing into the back of your mind. 

You’re sleeping with a stranger…someone you knew little to nothing about, but it was your choice. And you trusted your gut. 

Joel was safe, he was good. 

You relax under the spray of hot water, a different heat to the one you enjoyed just a while ago, the type that allowed your thoughts to roam, and you laugh softly at the sight of Joel’s shower supplies, knowing he was stuck with whatever you brought—it wasn’t something you thought about in the moment, but there’s a brief realization that he was sharing a moment similar to your own, scowling at the sight of your fruity scented body wash that you left on the shelf there. It wasn’t a huge deal, Joel wouldn’t fuss over it. 

But, it also lends your mind to roam more.

As if his bare chest wasn’t already at the forefront, and his eyes as they had stared at you so unabashed until the moment he was caught, all innocent looks with deeper intentions that invaded your mind like a plague.

You were so fucking frustrated—annoyed with him, the state of your life, this stupid vacation. With the suds gone and the water drowning out the silence you allow yourself one—just one moment of selfishness...

And as if the house was the biggest tattletale of them all, the floor creaks on the other side of the door.

“Joel?” You call out curiously, as if an intruder in the middle of nowhere was even likely.

There’s several seconds of silence before Joel finally answers.

“Yeah?”

“Your body wash sucks.” You goad lightly, hoping to ease the earlier frustration that had grown between you both, and while you can’t see him, you can hear his laughter on the other side of the door.

“Can’t say yours is any better.”

You smile to yourself, the way he responds with fondness that he tries to hide.

When you finish up and dress, peeking your head out before you move to open the door fully, Joel is already on his side, turned away. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be bothered. The small blanket of division rolled and wedged in the center of the bed like a barrier, a warning. 

Keep your distance and you both may manage to survive the rest of this vacation.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, i love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: does a handsy Jasper need a warning?

Notes: oh my god it’s been so long, I’ve been eating myself up over not posting. I’ve been working myself to death, but I’ve finally got a long weekend off and so I used it to get back to what makes me happy - this story! Omg I hope you guys love it🥹 I also have to go through and update my taglist later tonight, so bear with me on that until I add it!

Word Count: 1500

Series Masterlist

• April 3rd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Tingly.

That’s the state of my body this morning, the state of my mind.

Not only am I riding an emotional high from our conversation this weekend, but my dream last night… Good lord, that dream.

I can feel the echoes of his fingers on my skin, the coolness of his lips, the wet trail they would’ve left behind… the solid weight of what surely his body would feel like, pressed against mine. I can imagine all of what it would be like vividly, to be under him, to get carried away, to just explore-

“You alright, darlin’?”

His voice jolts me from the day dreaming stare I had on the locker before me, caught red handed. To make matters worse, that deep southern tenor questioned me inches from my ear, causing a blush to heat my cheeks to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“Perfectly fine, why?” I immediately busy myself within my locker so that I don’t have to face him right away.

“You do remember that I can feel you, right?” His voice is low and his hands find my hips tenderly, but the air changes around us.

My heart rate skyrockets, this is dangerous. His fingers flex against me and the death grip I have on this book in my hands turns my knuckles white.

“Jasper-” his name is a whispered warning, but also a plea.

“I know.” Instantly a cooling, soothing balm blankets our tension and I release the tightness in my chest. Leaning backwards into him I just feel tired all of a sudden, like I had run a marathon. “Let’s get out of here.”

His request sounds more like a demand and I twist in his arms, “Is that a good idea?”

“Darlin’, I don’t have many of those these days.” His mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin as he shoves all of my school supplies back in my locker, shutting it and tugging me along behind him towards the student parking lot.

Jasper

Something is on her mind, something dangerous. Something I absolutely want to know, something I’m not sure I have the strength for, but I can’t help it - it’s her.

I’ve never been more thankful for an overcast day with no rain: perfect motorcycle weather. Come to think of it, my sister had a knowing look in her eyes as my siblings all piled into their respective vehicles as I straddled my bike this morning. A decision that currently led me to now: Y/n and I leaving school before midday.

Those thoughts I interrupted earlier have her quiet, but her emotions are raging and it is driving me insane. Curiosity, need, nervousness - a dangerous concoction begging to overtake my rational mind. Separating myself from her feelings is almost impossible at this point, she is so well ingrained in me.

Finally arriving at my thankfully empty home, I shut my motorcycle off and offer a steady hand to help her dismount. Swinging my own leg over, I turn towards her and lean against it, observing her for a moment with crossed arms.

“What?” She makes eye contact as she struggles with the chin strap of my helmet.

Grabbing the helmet by the chin piece, I gently tug her forward between my legs, “Tell me.” I lace the command with neediness to encourage her to be pliant.

And judging by the way her lips part behind the dark visor, the immediate dilation of her eyes, and the weight of her hands settling on my thighs gently, I might’ve laid it on a little too thick.

Chuckling, I free her from my helmet and riding jacket. By the time I finish, she seems to snap from the daze and her hands clench on top of my legs.

“Not fair, Hale.” Feisty this morning.

I lean forward towards her ear with a grin as I stand from my bike to put away the gear, “All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

Reaching to swat my chest, I grab her hand gently before she could injure herself.

Pausing as I hang my jacket up, her teasing response sends excitement through me, “Two can play at that game, baby.”

Stepping into my room, I realize too late what has her curiosity: my desk. Well, the art that occupies every inch, my art.

“What is all this?” Leafing through pencil sketches of my favorite hunting spots and pen etchings of my family at random moments, she gets to the important ones hidden below. Her breathing hitches and I know she’s found them, the ones of her.

Some are in pencil, some are in random felt-tip pens, but my favorites? Those are charcoal. A decently basic medium, but I feel like it captures so much more than anything else ever could. Maybe it’s because I use my fingers to smudge and shape her perfect curves and lines, but it radiates emotion in sweeping gestures and subtle shading - something that’s hard to capture with anything else.

“There’s-” awe, shock, surprise, they all shuffle through her and I’m on edge, waiting to hear her thoughts. “There’s so many…”

I watch her carefully examine each one and I smile when she chuckles at a few - some of her at school, some of her here in my home, moments I not only committed to memory, but to paper.

“Now you know what I do with my free time.” I smile through the minuscule anxiety that bubbles up at her seeing my secret hobby. Everyone in my family knows I draw, but they haven’t seen my drawings.

“Jasper…” I can tell she’s getting emotional, but a part of me is excited for her to see my innermost thoughts on paper, to see herself through my eyes - the unaltered beauty she contains.

“You haven’t even seen the ones I cherish the most.” Opening a familiar sketchbook buried under many other drawings, I reveal my favorites. “The very first ones.”

Her breath hitches, running a reverent finger down the first page. It’s the very first moment I saw her, crouched, scooping up papers on her first day of high school in Forks - absolutely radiant.

“You were a vision that day. A beautiful tornado that wrecked my world, I tried to capture every detail from memory because I never want to forget-”

Her hand finding my cheek breaks me from my explanation and my eyes find her watery ones, mouth open, searching for words clearly hard to get out, “Jasper…”

“I love you.” My confession steals her breath completely this time, the first time I’ve uttered these words aloud and it feels absolutely right. “I’ve loved you since the moment you hit me with that door. I knew I was absolutely ruined for anyone else and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tilting her chin up with the tip of my finger as it wobbles at my confession, I smile, “Say something, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.” Now it’s my turn to go wholly still. “I knew from the moment I saw you I’d never be the same, I was yours-”

I couldn’t wait another second, I closed the minuscule gap between our mouths to seal these confessions. I love her and she loves me. Me.

Tilting her head back slightly as I cradle her, I take my cue to deepen the kiss, to pull her closer carefully. Groaning into her mouth, fuck I can’t get enough of her. Trailing kisses down her jawline as she tips her head to the side for much needed air, her gasps drive me to lift her onto my desk.

“Jaz…” her breathy plea of my nickname freezes me, panic seizing my actions.

“I am a gentleman, but only just barely.” My voice is gravel in my own ears, breathed down the slender column of her throat.

A shiver from her causes me to clench my jaw and attempt to gather myself.

“Maybe I don’t want a gentleman right now.” Her whisper damns me, it fucking sets me on fire.

A slamming door downstairs straightens my spine and my hands abandon the exploration of her. Fuck, my family’s timing couldn’t be better, but also worse.

“Honey, we’re home!” Emmett’s booming voice echoes up the stairs and immediately I know he knows, he can probably smell it.

Huffing, I help her regain her footing and straighten her clothes from the rumpled mess my hands made of it. I also take half a thought to smooth her arousal, a damn shame-but a necessity if we’re to face my siblings for the rest of the evening.

“Fucking Emmett.” Her frustration draws a chuckle from me as we make our way downstairs.

“I heard that!” My brother’s response causes her to roll her eyes at me playfully and I shake my head, my heart weighing much fuller in my chest as she plucks its invisible strings with her shit-eating grin.

Next

Taglist part 1:

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