Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving, filthy), begging, praise, Bob being obsessed with you, strong language, emotional breakdown, vulnerable freak behavior, implied mental health strain, tenderness so intense it might melt your bones
The door shut with a soft click.
You didn’t hear his usual greeting. No muttered “hey” or keys tossed into the bowl. Just the sound of his boots squelching on the entryway tile, the faint dripping of water.
Your brows furrowed as you stood up from the couch. “Bob?”
He looked up at the sound of your voice—and your heart clenched.
He looked wrecked.
Soaked through, hoodie clinging to him, rain dripping from the ends of his curls, his jaw tense, his eyes red-rimmed and distant. His bag dropped to the floor with a dull thud, and he just stood there, breathing unevenly.
You crossed the room in a heartbeat.
“Oh, baby.” You tugged the wet hoodie over his head, feeling how cold and damp his skin was underneath. “Why didn’t you call me? You’re soaked.”
His mouth barely moved. “Didn’t wanna talk.”
Your hands cupped his jaw, grounding him. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, slow and heavy. “No.”
“Then come with me. You need to warm up.”
His grip found your hand, and it was tight, like he needed to feel you were real. You led him to the bathroom silently, already reaching for towels and turning the water on.
As the steam started to fill the room, he pulled you back gently. “Will you shower with me?”
You turned, soft and steady. “Of course.”
His lips brushed your temple. “I don’t wanna be alone.”
You didn’t need to be asked twice.
Clothes fell to the floor. Skin met steam. He stepped in first, head bowed, water running down the long line of his spine. You joined him, wrapping your arms around him from behind.
For a while, he just stood there—letting the heat soak into his skin, his shoulders shaking as he exhaled hard through his nose.
You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Wanna talk about it?”
He turned slowly, his eyes soft and too full.
“I just—I tried to keep it together today. I did everything right. Followed orders. Bit my tongue. Kept everyone safe. And still…” He stopped, chest heaving like the words physically hurt. “Still, I got blamed. Still got the fucking side-eye. Like I was one second away from snapping.”
You moved closer, your hands sliding over his chest. “You didn’t snap.”
“I wanted to.” His voice cracked. “I wanted to scream, baby. You have no idea how loud it got in my head. But I didn’t. I kept it in. And now it’s just—sitting there. Like a bomb I forgot how to disarm.”
You reached up and ran your fingers through his wet curls. “You’re home now. You can let go.”
His eyes searched yours.
Then: “Can I… eat you out?”
You blinked. “Bob—what?”
He stepped forward, forehead against yours. “I wanna eat you out to feel better.”
A startled laugh escaped you. “I think a blowjob is supposed to do that, not the other way around.”
“I don’t care.” He kissed your cheek, then your jaw. “I just want you. Right now. Please.”
You could feel the need in his voice. The way his hands gripped your waist, how his body was shaking—not with cold, but with want. With something desperate and aching and heavy.
“Okay,” you whispered, cupping his jaw.
He kissed you once—soft and deep, a promise—and then reached behind you to turn the water off.
His hands didn’t leave your body for even a second. He grabbed a towel, quickly wrapped it around your shoulders, and then one around his waist, then scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing.
You clung to him, wet and warm and breathless.
He carried you down the hall, rain still tapping faintly on the windows, the hallway dim and gold-lit.
And then he laid you on the bed.
Gently.
Reverently.
The towel was peeled off your body with slow, wet fingers. His eyes drank you in, pupils blown wide, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip as he knelt at the foot of the bed.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “You don’t even know.”
Then he pushed your thighs open and lowered his mouth.
The first drag of his tongue made your hips jerk.
“Bob—!”
He groaned. Groaned. Deep and hungry. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread wide as he devoured you. Long, slow strokes of his tongue, then little flicks that made your toes curl.
“I needed this,” he mumbled against your soaked folds. “I needed you.Fuck—baby. You taste like heaven.”
Your head hit the pillow, your fingers clutching the sheets, thighs trembling.
“You’re so good to me,” he panted. “Let me stay right here. Let me take care of you.”
He latched onto your clit, sucking softly, and your whole body arched. His name spilled from your lips like prayer, like pleading. He didn’t stop—tongue pressing flat, then circling, teasing, relentless.
“You’re gonna come for me, baby. Please. I need it. I need to feel you fall apart.”
Your fingers tangled in his curls, guiding him, anchoring him to your body.
“You’re doing so good,” you gasped, hips lifting to meet his mouth. “Fuck, Bob—don’t stop, don’t stop—”
Your fingers twisted in his wet curls like lifelines, your thighs trembling around his shoulders, but Bob didn’t need encouragement. His mouth was starved, not for release, but for you. Every stroke of his tongue was reverent, every kiss to your core more tender than the last, as if his sanity hinged on making you fall apart in his mouth.
He moaned against you, deep and guttural, and the vibrations made your whole body jolt.
“You taste like you were made for me,” he murmured, barely pulling back, his voice already wrecked. “I needed this—needed you. Needed something that feels good. That feels real.”
He flattened his tongue and dragged it up your slit slowly, ending with a soft suck to your clit that had your back arching off the bed.
“Oh my God, Bob—” You grabbed at the sheets, breath coming in little gasps.
“I’ve been in my head all day,” he said between kisses, voice breaking as he licked into you again, tongue circling like he could memorize your flavor. “Couldn’t hear anything but him. Couldn’t breathe. And then I came home and saw you—” He kissed your thigh, then dove back in, wet and slow. “And it all stopped.”
His mouth moved with long, lazy precision—like he wasn’t trying to make you come fast, like he was savoring every moment of you. He buried two fingers inside you, curling them slowly, just enough to make your breath hitch.
“I’ll stay here all night,” he whispered. “I’ll live here if you let me.”
You let out a whimper and choked on a laugh. “You’re insane.”
He groaned, eyes dark and glassy as he looked up at you from between your thighs.
“For you? Absolutely.”
His lips sealed around your clit again, sucking soft and slow as his fingers curled deeper. You felt yourself climbing—shaking, unraveling under his hands, his mouth, his love.
You were already so close, and he knew. His strokes got slower. More deliberate. He licked through you like a man possessed, one arm snaked around your waist to pin you down as you began to tremble.
“I can feel you shaking,” he groaned, mouth slick and shiny. “C’mon, baby—let me have it. Let me taste you.”
“Bob, I’m gonna—”
“That’s it. Come for me,” he begged, voice wrecked. “Please. I need it, sweetheart. I need you.”
Your orgasm ripped through you so hard you nearly sobbed—hips arching, walls clenching, hand flying to your mouth to muffle the moan that tore free. He didn’t stop. Not when you came, not when your thighs closed around his head, not even when you whimpered from the overstimulation.
Because Bob Reynolds didn’t want to stop.
Not until you were shaking. Not until you were breathless and flushed and glowing with the kind of pleasure no mission, no Void, no darkness could touch.
And even then—he pressed one last kiss to your core before resting his cheek against your thigh, holding your hips like they were home.
You were panting, tears stinging your lashes, heart thudding like you’d just run a mile.
He didn’t say anything right away.
He just looked up at you, eyes wide and soft and filled with something unbearably tender.
Then he whispered:
“I don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”
You sat up slowly and cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the corners of his mouth. “You don’t have to go anywhere. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
His lashes fluttered. His eyes were glassy again—but not with darkness this time.
With relief.
You tugged him gently up your body, the towel falling from his hips as he followed, his chest pressed to yours, skin to skin. He kissed your collarbone, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.
“I love you,” he breathed, hoarse and trembling.
“I love you too,” you whispered back.
And then, into the quiet…
“…You still think a blowjob would’ve worked better?”
You burst into laughter, swatting his bare shoulder.
But the look in his eyes—soft, alive, adoring—said everything.
Summary: Rhett had been holding his love for you like a secret waiting for daylight—only for Maria to step in and steal the moment he’d finally found.
Warnings: angst, misunderstanding, Rhett and reader being heartbroken, happy ending
Author’s note: hope you like it. if you have any requests, let me know! divider by @thecutestgrotto
You and Rhett Abbott had always been the kind of friends people whispered about.
The kind of friends who seemed too close to be “just friends,” the kind of friends who always found each other's eyes in a crowded room.
You’d grown up together, worn the same dusty boots in the same dusty town, laughed at the same stupid jokes. But over the years, something had changed quietly, steadily, inevitably. Your hearts had tilted toward each other without permission, without acknowledgment, without courage.
And now, at twenty-something, you and Rhett were balancing on that thin line where friendship hummed with unspoken longing.
Everyone saw it.
Except, apparently, the two of you.
Or at least… that’s what you thought.
The Bar — 9:17 PM
The bar was almost full, warm and loud, the air thick with country music and cheap cologne. You pushed open the door, heart pounding harder than you’d ever admit. Because Rhett was here. And you were… maybe ready.
Ready to stop pretending.
Ready to stop being scared.
Ready to tell him exactly what you felt.
Rumors had been swirling for weeks, that Rhett had been talking about you, looking for you whenever you weren't around.
And you’d felt it too. The shift. The heat. The way his gaze lingered on your mouth a second too long the last time you’d spoken.
So tonight, you’d put on the one top that made you feel confident. The one Rhett once said made you “look unfair.”
Tonight, you were going to tell him the truth.
But as soon as you stepped inside, you froze.
Rhett was there.
But he wasn’t alone.
Maria was with him.
Maria. His high school crush. The girl he used to love with his whole damn heart. The girl who, apparently, wanted him back.
And she was standing too close.
Leaning too far.
Touching him.
Laughing like she owned him.
You took one step forward, stomach twisting—
Just as Maria grabbed Rhett’s face in both hands and kissed him.
Hard.
Full.
Right on the mouth.
You stopped breathing.
Rhett’s eyes flew wide open, startled, confused, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he had no idea what to do.
But you didn’t see that. His back was turned to you.
Your vision tunneled.
All you saw was his mouth on hers.
Your heart shattered so violently you almost heard it.
Maria saw you.
Of course she did.
You knew it by the way her eyes flicked toward you while her lips were still pressed against Rhett’s.
It was intentional.
Calculated.
Designed to hurt.
And damn it, it worked.
You stumbled back, breath shaking, bile burning your throat. Your chest felt too tight, too small, too fragile to hold everything inside it. Something hot and ugly burned behind your eyes, and you turned on your heel, pushing back out into the cold night air.
Rhett — 9:18 PM
“Maria—what the hell, get off—”
He shoved her away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you—I told you I ain’t interested—”
But Maria wasn’t listening. She was looking at the door.
At you leaving.
“Oh…” she purred. “Looks like someone saw.”
Rhett’s heart dropped through his boots.
“No—no, no—” He pushed past Maria so fast she stumbled.
He burst through the doors into the parking lot.
But you were already halfway across it, your shoulders tense, your pace quick, your breath visible in small angry clouds.
“Darlin’! Please—hold on, just wait—wait a damn second—”
You didn’t stop.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t even look at him.
“Go back inside, Rhett,” you said, voice trembling. “You clearly have your hands full.”
Rhett felt like someone had slammed a fist into his chest. “It ain’t what it looked like.”
“Really?” You whipped around then, eyes glossy, cheeks flushed with anger, heartbreak written in every line of your face. “Because it looked like you were kissing Maria, you know, the girl who broke your heart, multiple times?”
“I wasn’t—,I didn’t—”
But your jaw clenched. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
The words cut sharper than any knife.
Rhett took a step toward you, desperate. “Please—darlin’, you’re not—just let me explain—”
But you stepped back.
“No, Rhett. You don’t owe me anything. And I don’t owe you anything, either.”
Then your voice cracked into something softer, something broken, something that made his blood run cold.
“I thought you and I… had something. I thought…” You swallowed hard. “I thought I meant more.”
And Rhett looked devastated, truly, painfully devastated.
But you didn’t let him answer.
You turned and got into your car, slamming the door before he could reach you.
“Darlin’, you—don’t go—”
You started the engine, ignoring him, and then you pulled away.
Leaving him in the cold.
Alone.
With his heartbreak and his regret.
Three Days Later
You didn’t see him.
Didn’t call him.
Didn’t even go into town. You needed space. Needed air. Needed time to stitch your heart back together.
You told yourself you were overreacting.
You told yourself it was stupid.
But the pain didn’t listen.
Because you thought you’d finally been close.
Close to being more than childhood friends.
Close to admitting what you felt.
Close to letting everything tumble out of you in one reckless confession.
And now…
Now you weren’t sure he’d ever actually wanted you.
Not really.
Not romantically.
Not like you wanted him.
Until the knock came.
You weren’t expecting anyone. Nobody in Wabang just shows up, not unless something’s wrong.
When you opened the door, your heart stumbled.
Mrs. Carter, the bar owner’s wife, stood on the porch, her hands folded tightly in front of her.
Beside her was Joseph, the sweet comedic man who practically lived at the pool tables.
And behind them lingered Mark, the quiet kid who’d been sweeping floors that night.
They all wore the same expression: guilty… determined… and strangely nervous.
“Sweetheart,” Mrs. Carter said softly, almost like she was afraid you might bolt, “we need to talk to you.”
You froze, because why would these people be at your door?
But they eased their way inside with the gentle insistence of folks who believed they owed you something.
By the time they settled themselves on your couch, you finally found your voice again.
Mrs. Carter started, her tone careful, like she was untying knots one by one.
She told you how Rhett had been brushing Maria off the entire night, physically stepping away, putting distance between them.
How he’d spent nearly half an hour perched at the bar, eyes drifting to the door every couple minutes like he was waiting for a miracle.
How he’d told three separate people that he was “waitin’ on someone special,” and everyone had known exactly who he meant.
How he wasn’t drunk, wasn’t rowdy, wasn’t his usual soft-laughing self, just tense. Restless. Sober.
Waiting for you.
And then—
“And that kiss?” Mark said, shaking his head. “Maria ambushed him. He looked shocked as hell. Didn’t kiss her back for even half a second. Pushed her off fast as lightning.”
“He was chasing you before we could even blink,” Joseph added.
Mrs. Carter placed her warm hand over yours.
“Rhett loves you, honey. It was written all over him. You gotta cut that boy some slack.”
Your chest tightened.
Your throat went dry.
They were right. You could feel it.
You’d misjudged him.
Or maybe…
You’d been too scared to believe the truth.
Rhett wasn’t in love with Maria anymore.
He was in love with you.
The Abbott Ranch — That Evening
Your palms were sweaty as you drove. Your stomach twisted with nerves. You had no idea what you were going to say. No idea how he’d react. But you knew you had to try.
You had to see him.
As you walked up the dirt path toward the Abbott porch, you saw him through the window, sitting at the table, shoulders slumped, head in his hands.
The sight broke you.
You knocked gently.
Rhett lifted his head instantly.
And when he opened the door, the look on his face almost brought you to your knees, shock, hope, fear, longing, heartbreak, all tangled together.
“Darlin’?” he breathed, like a prayer.
You opened your mouth—
But he spoke first.
“I know you don’t wanna hear excuses. I know I messed up. Even if I didn’t do anything wrong, I messed up not makin’ things clearer sooner.” His voice was rough, low. “But I swear to you, I didn’t kiss her. I ain’t wanted Maria in years. Not after…” His throat bobbed. “Not after I fell for someone else.”
Your breath hitched.
“Rhett…”
He stepped closer, hesitating, eyes searching yours. “I wanted you there that night. I waited for you. And when I saw you walk in… and then walk out…” His voice cracked. “I thought I ruined everything.”
Tears pricked your eyes.
“Rhett, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run. I should’ve listened. I just… it hurt.”
He nodded slowly.
“I know. And I wish like hell you hadn’t seen it, because the only person I wanted to kiss that night…” His voice softened to a trembling whisper.
“…was you.”
Something in your chest broke open.
You stepped closer, the heat between you nearly humming. “Rhett.”
His eyes dropped to your lips, then flicked back up to your eyes, practically pleading for permission.
And then you gave it to him.
You surged forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t tentative.
It wasn’t shy.
It was everything, every missed chance, every unspoken feeling, every night you’d lain awake thinking about him.
Rhett froze for half a heartbeat, shocked—
And then he melted into you.
His hands cupped your face like he’d been dying to touch you for years. His breath hitched against your mouth. His lips moved with yours in a way that felt like relief and longing and apology and promise all at once. His tongue warm against yours.
When you finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard.
“Please tell me this ain’t a dream,” he whispered.
You smiled softly, thumb brushing his jaw. “It’s real.”
Rhett exhaled shakily, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.
“So…” he murmured. “You forgivin’ me?”
You kissed him again, slower this time.
“Only if you take me out this time, for real.”
Rhett laughed—breathy, relieved, overwhelmed—and pulled you into his chest.
“I ain’t lettin’ you go again,” he whispered into your hair.
Summary: You’ve just arrived in the valley and are only trying to get your cow back, but without realizing it, you end up crossing onto the wrong land.
Author’s note: So after a long time, I finally managed to write this idea. I hope you like it. Could this turn into a series? Maybe.
━━━━━ೃ࿐━━━━━
The wind hits your face violently, and you still can’t understand how something so quiet can feel so immense.
You follow the cow with determined steps, watching the grass sway with the wind.
You see her slip through a broken fence and disappear into the neighboring land.
“Shit.”
You don’t think twice. You just huff and hurry after her, because you know that if you don’t catch her, you’ll find her on the road—or worse, you won’t find her at all.
When you reach the other side, the first thing you notice isn’t your cow, but the view in front of you.
Your breath escapes instantly as an endless field of sunflowers stretches out ahead.
They clearly aren’t meant to be on your livestock’s menu. But your cow doesn’t know that, and she certainly doesn’t respect property lines. She’s happily tearing them out and eating them.
You grab the rope just as she’s about to take another bite. You try to pull her away carefully so you don’t cause more damage than she already has, but the trail she’s left behind is impossible to ignore.
You’re so focused on wrestling with her that a sudden shout catches you off guard.
“HEY! OUT! GET HER OUT OF THERE!”
The voice echoes loudly, making you slip on the wet dirt and crash hard to the ground. The impact forces a frustrated yell out of you as you cling awkwardly to the rope.
When you look up, you see him approaching. Tall. Serious. You don’t know him—you’re new here—but his tense jaw tells you everything you need to know. And clearly, he doesn’t like what he sees.
You’ve always thought first impressions were overrated, but this one definitely isn’t warm.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, frowning. The irritation in his voice—and the way he looks at you like you don’t belong here—makes you bristle.
You stand up as best you can, brushing the dirt off your pants and meeting his stare with the same stubborn energy.
“I was just taking my cow on a little tour of your botanical garden” you reply, trying to sound calm even though your pride still stings from the fall. “Looks like the tour’s over.”
Rhett watches you in disbelief, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to figure out how someone can be this bold on his land.
“You think this is funny?” he asks, tilting his head. It’s not just anger—it’s confusion. Like he doesn’t know whether to scold you or make you disappear with a look.
“I think it’s unnecessary for you to yell at me like I’m stealing cattle” you shoot back, crossing your arms and pushing a strand of hair out of your face. You don’t notice the smear of mud across your forehead, but he does.
“I wasn’t yelling at you. I was yelling at that” he says, biting the inside of his cheek as he points at your cow, who keeps chewing sunflowers like nothing’s happening—like you’re rich enough to pay for everything she eats. His eyes snap back to you, waiting for you to admit fault. You don’t. You know he’s right, but something about his attitude makes you double down.
“Well, you almost scared me to death.”
“Wasn’t my intention” he answers with a shrug. “But it is your fault.”
You stare at him, offended, almost convincing yourself you’re the one in the right.
“My fault?”
“Your cow is on my land” he says, stepping closer. His voice is controlled, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from losing his temper. “And she’s eating something that isn’t yours.”
You glance around, searching for something to throw back at him, and you find it immediately.
“Your fence doesn’t look very yours either. It’s a mess.”
Rhett tightens his jaw.
“That doesn’t give you the right to come in.”
“I didn’t come in for fun” you answer. “I came in because my cow has expensive taste.”
His eyes shift to the cow, and he sighs.
“She likes sunflowers?”
You nod seriously.
“Yeah. She’s got a refined palate.”
For a second, it looks like Rhett might smile—but he stops himself.
“They’re sunflowers. And they cost money.”
“Perfect” you say. “So I owe you two… maybe three? You take cash, or only livestock in installments?”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly irritated.
“I’m not joking” he mutters, exhausted.
“Neither am I. Look how focused she is” you reply, gesturing toward the cow. He watches her for a moment, and his expression softens slightly. You realize that even though he’s mad, he’s not heartless—just stubborn.
“Do you always have something to say?” he asks, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Do you always have something to complain about?” you counter, mirroring his posture.
“When people step on my land, yeah” he says, adjusting his hat.
“And when you step on mine?”
He looks down. Somehow, without noticing, he’s crossed over onto your side of the fence.
The tension eases a little. It feels less like anger and more like neither of you wants to admit you messed up.
“Your fence is broken” he says.
You smile.
“So we’re even.”
Rhett looks annoyed that you got the last word.
“I’m fixing this fence tomorrow” he says as he backs up toward his side again.
“So my cow doesn’t come back—or so I don’t?” you tease.
“Both sound good” he replies. “Which do you think is more likely?”
Your cow tugs at the rope like she’s ready to leave, but you hold your ground.
“Fine. But if you yell at me again, I’m taking it personally.”
“And if you step onto my ranch again, so am I” he says firmly.
You narrow your eyes, offended.
You turn and start walking away with your cow, feeling his gaze on your back, but you refuse to look over your shoulder.
Rhett watches you leave. He doesn’t say anything else, just keeps that tight expression until you’re far enough away. Then he exhales, like he can finally breathe.
That’s when he notices it—the big smear of wet dirt on the back of your pants.
A quiet smile slips out before he catches himself. He shakes his head, clears his throat like he’s ashamed for finding it funny, then climbs onto his horse and rides off, giving one last glance at the broken fence on your land.
Summary: The last thing you expected to happen that day was for your husband to end up hit by a bus. What you expected even less, was for you to be sitting at the foot of his bed, staring at him as you rest your hands on your swollen belly, begging him to wake up from the coma he was in.
Warnings: ANGST, hurt/comfort, near death experience, description of car accident, emotional turmoil, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant!reader, happy ending
Word Count: 2.2k
Masterlists
Ficmas 2025
Note: My first time ever writing for Calvin! Yay! Had to go with the angst with him obviously! Also a special thanks to @lewmagoo for editing and proofreading this and day 17 for me! Without further ado, happy reading!
You thought you knew grief.
The way it creeps in when you least expect it. How it lingers as you bore your eyes into your morning coffee, reminiscing about a time long past. How it manifests itself in your dreams, jolting you awake, leaving you with a numbing ache in your chest as you come to your senses. You get used to it, learn to live with it.
But you never thought you could grieve someone who was still alive.
It had been routine. Calvin started his morning as he did any other, with a run. Six Thirty was leashed at the door, whining, ready to go on this much anticipated morning jog. You were still sleeping, partially.
Calvin always tried his best not to wake you, but you immediately noticed when the warmth from his sleeping form was gone. It was your sixth sense.
“Come back to bed,” you whine, one hand reaching out for him.
Calvin chuckles at your cuteness. “No can do, sweetheart.” He bends down to kiss your cheek. “Why don’t you get up, and we can go running together?”
You mumble into your pillow, “not happening.”
Calvin hums in amusement, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before heading out of the room. The shut of the front door and Six Thirty’s excited yips are the last thing you hear before blissful sleep draws you back in.
It’s frantic knocks and the doorbell ringing that wake you what feels like only half an hour later. Your brain is still a bit fuzzy from sleep as you haphazardly pull on a robe, yawning as you make your way through the house. The ringing doesn’t stop.
“Okay Calvin! I’m coming!” You laugh to yourself as you reach the door. “I swear, if you forget your key one more-”
“Ma’am?”
Your breath catches in your throat.
“What? What’s-?”
“Mrs. Evans? Wife of Calvin Evans?”
Your grip on the door frame tightens.
Trying not to shake, you speak. “Yes. Officers, what’s going on?”
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
------
You’ve never really liked hospitals. Honestly, who does? Bad things always seem to happen there. You remember that time you broke your leg back in high school. How you cried out in pain when they snapped the bone in place, nearly passing out from how overwhelming it was. You could still sometimes hear your screams echoing off the walls as you clenched your fists, trying to ease the stabbing pain.
You remember when your grandma was sick for years, wasting away as she clung to the plastic frames of the bed. You held her hand as she took her last breath under the blinding fluorescent lights.
Even still, you didn’t hold hospitals in a total negative light.
Now though? You hate them. Loathe them entirely, as you stare at the love of your life surrounded by tubes that run down his throat, connected to the machines that are keeping him alive.
The damage is extensive, the doctors say. That it’s a miracle he’s even alive. That the bus that collided with him was going at a speed that should’ve instantly killed him. But instead, the paramedics found him in a puddle of his own blood with his skull cracked open, ribs fractured, multiple broken bones, and a bruised lung. They said he was lucid only for a moment before he lost consciousness, whispering your name before he slumped over and flat lined on the way to the hospital. They were able to revive him, but he hadn’t awakened since.
“There appears to be signs of brain activity,” the doctor looks at you solemnly, sighing as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. It makes you want to vomit. “But we just can’t say when he’ll wake up again. Could be days, could be weeks. His body is healing. Just need to give him time to heal.”
In the following weeks, you hardly leave his bedside.
A kind nurse provides you with a cot when she catches you trying to put two chairs together to sleep by his bed. His room is littered with flowers and cards from his colleagues. Some wishing him a speedy recovery, others telling you to reach out if you need anything. Every time there is a knock at the door, you brace yourself for more pity filled eyes and kind smiles that make the back of your throat burn with acid, as you merely thank them with a strained smile.
You take care of him most days, only leaving to visit Six Thirty, as he stays with Elizabeth until things get better. If they ever do.
You thank her every day, uncertain of what you’d do without her providing a shoulder to cry on. While she and Calvin may have disliked each other upon their first meeting, she quickly became someone he could call a respectable colleague, and soon, you were calling her your closest friend.
You read Calvin stories as he sleeps. Even though he most likely isn’t hearing a word you say, it brings you comfort. Reminding you of when you’d cuddle up against his chest, eyes drooping while he stroked your hair. The steady rhythm and hum of his voice as he read his dissertation would lull you into the most peaceful slumber.
Tears sting your eyes as you imagine his dopey smile as he stares down at your sleepy figure. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips from where he last kissed your temple.
You quietly cry yourself to sleep that night.
“Need you to wake up, Cal.” You grab his hand, careful as you bring his knuckles to your lips. “Can’t do this without you.”
Your hand lowers, bringing his palm to your stomach, a barely noticeable bump there as your voice breaks. “We can’t do this without you.”
He still doesn’t wake.
The air starts getting colder when you are nine weeks into your pregnancy, and the chill is only magnified in the hollow hospital room. You try to make it more lively, more like home, so Calvin will feel welcome when he finally wakes, but the doctor’s hope is starting to dwindle.
“His ribs have healed quite nicely; his lungs are now in tip-top shape, and he can finally breathe on his own-”
“That’s a good thing, right? I read that if they can breathe on their own, then it’s a good thing.”
The doctor tries to smile. “Well, yes, technically-”
“But.”
He raises a brow.
“I know there’s a ‘but’ coming after that.”
He clears his throat. “But his brain is still healing. And while we hoped to have caught the swelling in time-”
“You don’t think he’s ever going to wake up.”
He looks regretful as he nods. You turn away from him, hand resting over your small bump as you stare down at Calvin, admiring how he almost looks at peace despite all the trauma he’s been through. “My baby isn’t growing up without a father.”
The doctor goes to respond, but stops himself. He knows better than to argue with a new mother already under so much stress. So, he simply nods, shutting the door behind him as you bend down to caress Calvin’s hair. “Wake up Cal. Please, wake up.”
----
“You need to get out of that room.”
“No can do.”
The blonde next to you sighs.
“I can feel your eyes rolling, Elizabeth. I can’t leave.”
Your bump is more noticeable, the clothes you had before no longer fit you, and you walk with a bit of a waddle now. You never imagined you’d be going through your first pregnancy alone. You always thought he’d be there as they ran the blood test to confirm your suspicion after realizing that it’d been six weeks since your last period. That he would be there to comfort you through your morning sickness, rubbing your back as you deposited your morning eggs into the toilet bowl. You imagined how he’d be jumping for joy when you felt the baby kick, his eyes lighting up in fascination at the feeling.
Instead, all you can do is tell him about it and hope he wakes before the baby comes.
“Nothing’s gonna happen if you leave for 2 hours.” Elizabeth reaches over, pressing a comforting hand to your arm. “You need the rest. To sleep in an actual bed for once. I know that cot isn’t helping your back, especially with the baby.”
You hate that she’s right. Crossing your arms, you bite at your bottom lip as you think it over. “But what if-”
She stops you before you can go on another worry filled tangent. “Nothing is gonna happen. I promise.”
You huff, relenting. “Fine.”
---
Exhaustion seems to hit you with full force the minute you walk through your front doors. You swear, your eyes start drooping the minute you get settled into your bed. It’s been so long since you’ve slept in a proper bed.
You sink into the mattress, becoming one with the plushness of your pillow as you fall into a much-needed slumber.
Some time later, you wake to the shrill of the telephone ringing. Rubbing your blearily eyes awake as you wipe the drool off your chin, you groan as you lift yourself off the bed, “Jeez li’l bean,” you soothingly rub your stomach. “M’sorry, mommy’s got to get the phone.”
You yawn as you make your way into the living room, answering the ringing telephone with a sigh. “Hello?”
“(Y/N).”
You freeze.
“You need to get here, now.”
-----
Elizabeth’s face, tear-stricken as she speaks with the nurse, is the first thing you see when you arrive.
“What happened?! Is he okay?! I knew I shouldn’t have gone home! I should’ve-”
“Hey, hey, calm down, calm down.” Elizabeth grabs you by the shoulders. “I need you to breathe, okay? Take a deep breath for me. For the baby.”
You nod, your breath hitching as you try to calm yourself and not break down in sobs in the middle of the hospital hallway. “What. Happened.”
Then, Elizabeth does something you don’t expect. She smiles.
“He’s awake.”
Your knees buckle underneath, the news knocking the wind out of your lungs. Elizabeth catches you before you can fall, steadying you. Her lips are moving, but you don't hear a word she's saying. Every emotion known to man makes their way to you, overwhelming your senses. You don't know if you should cry, scream, or cheer. Maybe you need to do all three.
“I need to see him, now.”
---
You watch Calvin through the small window in the hospital room door, catching a glimpse of him as the nurse helps him drink from a cup of water. You observe as his eyes dart around the room anxiously, but he’s careful not to make his worry too visible. Elizabeth tells you he’s been asking for you since he woke up. At first, he was frantic and confused, and had to be dosed with a mild sedative when he wouldn’t stop shouting your name, his blood pressure spiking at your absence.
Your heart breaks even more at the image she paints for you.
You would be in there right now, hugging him tight, if it weren’t for the doctor droning on and on about the recovery process and how much of a miracle it is.
“-but with the physical therapy, we hope to see him on his feet in a few months.”
“Great, great, now, can I please go see my husband?” You’re desperate to see him, to feel the weight of him in your arms again. You can’t wait another second.
The doctor sighs in defeat before gesturing toward the door. He knows you're done with him. “Go right ahead.”
You rush through the door, not wanting to wait another second. The world seems to come to standstill as you lock eyes with your husband. So many conflicting emotions overwhelm your already hormonal body. Relief, sadness, happiness, grief, love.
You walk slow, mindful of your bump as you move to sit beside him. “Hey Cal.”
Calvin's eyes are wide, you can see the whites of his eyes as he stares down at your belly, his mouth hanging open as his brain glitches at the shocking reveal. “What- um,” he clears his throat, nodding at your stomach, “That’s new.”
For the first time in months, you laugh. Not just any laugh, but a full-on belly laugh that echoes off of the pristine walls and makes its way down the hallways to the nurse’s station. They can’t help but smile when they hear it. Since that day Calvin had been brought in, they had been crossing their fingers that you’d get your happy ending.
You’re careful as you lean forward, cradling his jaw as you kiss him deeply. As you part, your tearful eyes bore into his own as you smile. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Calvin Evans.”
Calvin smiles before leaning in to kiss you again.
While Calvin still has a long healing journey ahead, he knows that he'll be able to face anything as long as he has you and the surprising new addition to your lives by his side.
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Summary: You met Bob Reynolds at his lowest—lost and haunted by demons he didn’t know how to fight. When an unplanned pregnancy brought new responsibilities into your lives, he disappeared, leaving you to face fear, heartbreak, and parenthood alone.
Years later, he reappears, changed and desperate to make things right—but can you let him back into your life? Or is the past too heavy, the wounds too deep, to risk your heart again?
Word Count: 10.4k words
Tags/Warnings: Sprinkled with angst, Hurt/Comfort, minor spoilers, mentions of drug use/addiction, mentions of abuse, PTSD themes, unplanned pregnancy, slow burn, strangers to lovers to exes to lovers again, some birth depictions, abandonment issues, alternating POV, happy/fluffy ending, misunderstanding/conflict, one time use of Y/N, slightly proofread-ish.
A/N: While this fic explores love and healing with someone in recovery, real-life relationships with people struggling with addiction are often complicated and painful. In my experience, love alone is never enough to fix someone. Please remember to prioritize your own safety and well-being. It’s important to know when to step away from a situation that feels unsafe or harmful. Setting boundaries is not a failure—it’s an act of self-respect. People in recovery deserve compassion and love, but the journey is often messy, imperfect, and ongoing, and it’s okay to protect yourself along the way.
The first time you met Bob Reynolds was one of those nights that felt like the city had forgotten how to breathe.
The kind of night where the neon signs buzzed too loud and the air tasted like old rain and regret.
You were closing up the café—the kind of place that served coffee until midnight and catered to people who didn’t want to go home. You’d already locked the front door when you heard the knock—soft, almost apologetic.
When you turned, there he was, holding a paper bag that’s more bottle than groceries.
Tall. Disheveled. Eyes red and tired in a way that spoke of something more than sleepless nights. His hands shook slightly when he held up a crumpled five-dollar bill.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just… just coffee. Black. If you’ve got any left.”
Something about him made you unlock the door. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the way he said sorry like he’d been saying it his whole life.
You brewed the coffee and handed it over without charging him.
He blinked, surprised.
“You sure?”
You shrugged. “You look like you need it more than I need five bucks.”
He huffed out a laugh—small, raspy, but real.
“Bob,” he said, after a long pause. “My name’s Bob.”
“Nice to meet you, Bob,” you said, wiping the counter. “I’m—”
He cut in gently. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m not great company.”
But you told him anyway. The rain started to pour, and Bob looked worried, so you decided to make conversation.
You tell him about juggling multiple jobs, about your tiny apartment that smells of bleach and loneliness. He listens, then starts to tell you how he’s also in between jobs, in between apartments, barely holding it together. You both laugh at how pitiful it sounds, the sound fragile but warm in the quiet room—and still, neither of you pulls away.
There was something about Bob—not the kind of pull that makes your heart race, but the kind that makes you feel seen. Like someone finally looked up and realized you existed.
Somehow, the rain finally stopped and he walked you home that night. Not because he’s trying anything—he never even hints at it—but because he’s the kind of man who, even with his own demons chewing through him, still wants to make sure you get inside safely.
You don’t see him again for three days. Then, you do.
You see him standing outside a convenience store, holding another bag of groceries, but this time there’s no bottle. He looks jittery, restless—the kind of anxious that lives in your bones. You offer him coffee from the store, and he takes it like it’s a sacred thing. That becomes your routine: coffee, small talk, soft smiles. A fragile friendship built on exhaustion and second chances neither of you believe in yet.
Over time, you see pieces of him—the way he stares at his hands like they’re strangers, how he twitches when sirens echo in the distance, how he apologizes for everything, even when there’s nothing to apologize for. He tells you once, in a quiet moment, that sometimes he feels like something’s inside him. Something terrible, like a storm waiting to break. You don’t understand what he means then, not really, but you tell him he’s not alone.
He told you, eventually, that he was trying to get clean.
You didn’t judge him. You just listened.
He told you about the loneliness, the fog, the days he couldn’t remember, the nights he didn’t want to. About the pain of trying to do better and failing again and again.
“I want to stop,” he said once, fingers clenched around his mug. “I really do. But it’s like… every time I try to climb out, something pulls me back in.”
You reached across the counter and covered his hand with yours.
“Then we keep climbing,” you said softly. “Together.”
He stared at your hand for a long time. Then, quietly, “You shouldn’t waste that kindness on someone like me.”
And you, with a steady voice you didn’t know you had, replied,
“Maybe I’m not wasting it.”
He starts showing up cleaner. Shaved. Wearing an old flannel that smells like detergent instead of whiskey. Sometimes he helps you carry groceries, sometimes he fixes your kitchen light or unclogs the drain. You try not to read into it, but when he smiles now, it feels different. Brighter.
And then one night, after weeks of dancing around it, he shows up at your door in the rain. He’s soaked, trembling—not from withdrawal this time, but from fear. He tells you he’s been sober for thirty days. That he wanted to tell someone who might actually care. You let him in.
The air between you changes that night. He laughs until his shoulders loosen, and when you brush a stray curl from his forehead, he catches your wrist like he can’t believe you’re real. The kiss happens slowly—hesitant, trembling—but when it happens, it feels inevitable. Like every bad thing you’ve survived led here, to this tiny moment of peace.
Later, when you wake up tangled in him, the world feels still for the first time in a long time. His breath is warm against your shoulder, and you think, maybe, this could be the start of something that doesn’t hurt.
Bob Reynolds will always be a man running from himself—but that night, he holds you like maybe he’s found something worth staying for.
-----------------------------------
Days become weeks. Weeks turn into something quieter, steadier—the kind of rhythm you didn’t think possible with someone like Bob Reynolds. He starts coming around more often, still shy about it, still asking “are you sure you don’t mind?” every time he crosses your threshold.
You mind a little—but only because it terrifies you how much you’ve come to depend on him.
Bob’s different now. He’s not all better—you still catch the haunted look in his eyes sometimes when he thinks you aren’t watching—but he’s trying. You see the effort in everything: in how he walks past the liquor aisle without stopping, in the way he fiddles with his hands when cravings hit, in how he repeats your words back to himself when you talk, as if trying to memorize every sound that makes you smile.
Sometimes, when he’s helping you fix something around the apartment, you’ll glance over and see him lost in thought, eyes distant but soft. When you ask, he shrugs. “Just thinking about… how different everything feels now.”
And then he always smiles—that shy, lopsided smile that makes him look younger, gentler—and you forget to breathe for a moment.
He gets a job eventually, at a local repair shop run by an old friend who doesn’t ask too many questions. He comes home with grease under his nails and the faintest glow of pride. He’ll tell you about how he rebuilt an engine or got a radio to work again, and you’ll listen, watching his hands move as he talks—animated, alive. You love his hands. They used to tremble, but now they’re steady, certain
Nights are slow. Intimate in their own quiet way. He’ll fall asleep on the couch beside you while some old movie hums in the background, his head resting against your shoulder, his warmth pressing through the thin fabric of your shirt. When he sleeps, he looks peaceful—like the world finally stopped demanding things from him.
Then one day, you threw up.
Then another.
And another.
You don’t plan it. You never do.
The morning you realize you’re pregnant starts like any other: gray light spilling through half-drawn curtains, the faint hum of traffic outside, Bob snoring softly beside you. His arm is draped over your waist, heavy but comforting, like an anchor. You lie there for a while, your hand resting against your stomach, trying to convince yourself it’s just nerves or hormones or the universe playing a cruel joke.
But deep down, you already know.
You’ve been nauseous for a week, and the scent of coffee—your morning ritual—makes your stomach twist. You’d brushed it off as stress, but when you finally force yourself to look at the test, those two solid pink lines steal the air from your lungs.
You sink to the floor, the tile cold beneath your legs. Tears come fast—not from sadness, but fear. Fear because everything was finally starting to make sense, and now it’s all about to change again. You’re not ready for this. Bob isn’t ready for this.
You want to be happy. You want to be brave. But your hands won’t stop shaking.
You hide the test under the sink and go about the next day like nothing happened. But the secret sits under your tongue, heavy as lead. Every time he smiles, it twists something inside you. Every time he reaches for your hand, you think, he deserves peace, not another reason to break.
The days stretch. You practice the words in your head a hundred times: Bob, I need to tell you something. Each time you almost say it, fear steals your voice.
One night, he finds you crying in the kitchen, forehead pressed to the cool surface of the counter. He doesn’t ask why at first—he just wraps his arms around you and lets you shake. When you finally speak, it’s a whisper.
“I’m pregnant.”
He freezes. Everything inside him stills—breath, heartbeat, time. You can see the panic hit him like lightning. For a moment, he just stands there, jaw tight, eyes darting around like the walls are closing in. You think he’s going to bolt. You almost prepare yourself for it.
But then he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another—until he’s close enough that you can see the tears building in his eyes. He doesn’t touch you right away, doesn’t say a word. He just stares at you like he’s trying to understand what you’ve just said.
“Are… are you sure?” he finally whispers.
You nod, the weight of it settling in. “Yeah.”
He exhales shakily, hands finding your shoulders like he’s grounding himself. Then, slowly, carefully, he pulls you in. His chest rises against yours, his heart racing.
“I don’t know how to be a dad,” he says, voice cracking. “But I want to try. I swear, I want to.”
Tears sting your eyes. He cups your face. “We’ll figure it out.”
He means it. You can feel it in how he holds you—fragile, terrified, but full of something real. Hope.
The next few weeks are a blur of uncertainty and quiet courage. Bob goes to every appointment he can. He reads books about parenting, scribbles notes on napkins, even tries to fix the nursery door with a level of focus that makes you laugh. But beneath it all, there’s still that flicker of fear—the one that creeps into his voice late at night when he thinks you’re asleep.
“What if I mess this up?” he murmurs once, staring at the ceiling beside you. “What if… what if the baby ends up hating me? What if I turn out like—”
You press a finger to his lips before he can finish. “You won’t.”
He looks at you, eyes glossy. “You don’t know that.”
“I know you,” you say simply. “And that’s enough.”
For a while, it seems like maybe things will work out. You find a kind of rhythm together—doctor visits, meal cravings, morning sickness and midnight giggles. Bob brings you flowers from the gas station down the street. He talks to your belly sometimes, awkward but sincere, whispering about all the things he wants to do better.
But at night, you still see the cracks. The tremors. The self-doubt. Sometimes you wake to find him staring out the window, whispering to himself. You don’t catch all the words, just fragments: “gotta be better,” “can’t mess this up,” “don’t deserve her.”
One afternoon, you wake to find him sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of papers in front of him. His hands are shaking again, eyes hollow and distant. When you ask what’s wrong, he shows you the letter. An envelope, stamped with a seal that makes your stomach drop.
He tells you that he’s been offered a chance—a “program” that could change everything. Some kind of experimental treatment, he says, meant to make him stronger, more stable. “They said it could fix the damage,” he murmurs, voice low, almost hopeful. “It could make me… better. For you, for the baby.”
You tell him it sounds wrong. You tell him you don’t care about better—you just want him here. But he’s already retreating into that old, familiar place—where pain feels safer than peace.
He kisses your forehead that night and promises that he won’t be gone long. “Just one week,” he says, voice trembling. “Then everything will be different.”
“I promise I’ll come back,” he whispered. It was the last thing you remembered him saying.
When you wake, the other side of the bed is cold.
His jacket’s gone. His shoes. The letter too.
You stand there, hand on your belly, and realize this is how the story begins to break.
The flickering kitchen light hums overhead, and for the first time since you met him, the world feels unbearably quiet.
You spend the first few days convincing yourself he’s coming back. You check your phone every hour. You keep the door unlocked. You fold his shirts and keep them stacked on the couch, just in case he walks in, apologizing, saying he made a mistake and he’s home now.
But days turn into weeks. The silence grows heavier. The longer you wait, the more real it becomes. Bob Reynolds is gone.
You tell yourself he’s on a mission—one of those secret government projects he sometimes mumbled about but never explained. You tell yourself he’s alive, that he’ll walk through the door with flowers and shaky apologies. But deep down, there’s a gnawing truth: he left to fix himself, and maybe that means fixing his life without you.
The mornings hurt the most. His mug is still by the sink. The chair he used to fix for you still creaks. The smell of his cologne lingers faintly in the hallway, mixed with the sterile scent of the prenatal vitamins you force yourself to swallow.
You try to go about your routine—work, grocery runs, doctor appointments—but there’s an emptiness to everything. You walk slower, talk quieter, eat less. You’re existing in half measures, saving the other half of yourself for the moment he comes home.
But he doesn’t.
At your prenatal checkup, you sit alone in a waiting room full of glowing couples. Husbands holding hands with wives, partners whispering jokes and pointing at ultrasound photos. You smile at them because it’s easier than crying.
When your name is called, you follow the nurse in silence. The doctor is kind. She talks about vitamins, heartbeat, diet, but the words pass over you like static. When she asks if the father will be joining, you choke on your answer.
“He’s… away.”
She nods, not prying, but you see the pity behind her eyes.
When she turns the monitor toward you and the room fills with the sound of your baby’s heartbeat, you can’t breathe. It’s so small, so alive, so terrifyingly yours. You press your hand to your stomach and whisper, “Hey, little one… it’s just us, okay?”
You wish Bob could hear it. You wish he could see this tiny miracle, the proof of everything you built together. But he’s gone chasing ghosts, and you’re left learning to live with the echo of what could have been.
As the months crawl by, your belly grows. So does the ache in your chest.
You try to write to him once—just to tell him the baby kicked, that you’re scared, that you still love him. You fold the letter three times, place it on the nightstand, and never send it. What would you even say? That you’re furious? That you understand? That every time you feel the baby move, it’s a reminder of the man who left before hearing its heartbeat?
Instead, you start talking to the baby. Quietly, before bed.
“Your dad was brave,” you whisper. “He just… didn’t know how to be happy.”
Sometimes you imagine what he’d say if he saw you now. How he’d place a trembling hand on your stomach, how he’d try to make a joke about you glowing, then immediately apologize for being gone so long. You imagine forgiving him—over and over—until the thought hurts too much to hold.
Labor comes early.
It’s raining, the kind of relentless storm that turns streets into rivers. You wake to pain slicing through your body, sharp and merciless. You grab your bag, the one you packed weeks ago “just in case,” and call for a cab through gritted teeth.
The ride is a blur of thunder and contractions. You clutch your belly and whisper promises to the baby, tears mixing with sweat. You’re terrified—not of the pain, but of doing this alone.
At the hospital, the nurses rush you in. The world becomes a haze of white light and sterile smells, voices telling you to breathe, to push, to hold on. You scream. You cry. You pray. And when it’s over, they place a tiny, crying bundle against your chest.
The sound of your baby’s first breath breaks something open inside you.
You’re exhausted. Shaking. But when you look down and see that tiny face—his eyes, his hair, your nose—it’s like the world snaps back into focus.
You whisper, “Hi, sweetheart,” and your baby quiets, as if they recognize your voice.
You cry harder. You didn’t think you had any tears left.
The nurse asks if there’s someone you’d like to call. You shake your head. You want to say Bob, but what’s the point? You don’t even know where he is—or if he’s still the man you loved when he left.
So, you hold your baby tighter and say, “It’s just us now.”
For weeks afterward, you exist in fragments. The apartment feels haunted—every corner a reminder of him. The half-built crib stays in the living room, unfinished. You keep meaning to fix it but can’t bring yourself to. His tools still sit in the drawer, untouched.
Sometimes, you talk to him anyway. In the dark. In the silence. “You’d laugh if you saw her smile,” you whisper. “She’s got your stubbornness already. I don’t know if I should thank you or curse you for that.”
But the truth is—some part of you still hopes he’ll walk through the door one day. That he’ll be clean, that he’ll have answers, that he’ll hold your daughter and say he’s sorry.
And on nights when the baby won’t sleep and the wind howls outside, you almost believe it’s possible. That maybe, somewhere out there, he’s still trying to find his way home.
-----------------------------------
Bob didn’t mean to disappear.
He meant to come back. He meant to hold your hand during every doctor’s appointment, to paint the nursery walls the wrong shade of yellow, to cry when he first held your child. That’s what he promised himself the night he signed his name on the Sentry Project forms. But promises are fragile things when they’re written on desperation.
They told him it was a “rehabilitation program for struggling volunteers.” They said it could fix him—not just his body, but his mind. That he’d finally be enough. For you. For the baby. For the world that had long stopped believing in people like him.
The facility was far from home—isolated, gray, humming with fluorescent light and the scent of antiseptic. He stayed there for days that felt like years. The serum they gave him burned like liquid lightning in his veins. Sometimes it felt like it was killing him. Other times, like it was rewriting him from the inside out.
Pain consumed him. Not the kind that made you scream, but the kind that made you see. His body convulsed, his veins burning with something electric, ancient. He saw flashes—his child’s face, though unborn; your tears when he walked out the door; his own reflection, fractured by light.
Then came the voice.
Low. Whispering. Familiar.
“You wanted power. I am what comes with it.”
When the containment doors slammed shut, he stopped fighting. The serum fused with him, rewriting every atom. His mind split—one side desperate, terrified, human; the other vast, void-like, infinite.
They said he died during Phase Two. But death wasn’t what claimed him.
He existed in fragments—his body frozen, suspended, while his consciousness unraveled in the dark. The serum kept him alive.
Time was meaningless. He remembered faces—Valentina’s smirk as she signed the approval forms, the sterile glass of the chamber closing over him. He remembered thinking, If this works, I’ll be the man they need me to be.
He didn’t know that in her eyes, he was just a disposable proof of an experiment that went too far.
Then one day, deep in the darkness, he heard a sharp clang that shook him awake. Confusion flooded his mind, and a sudden pit opened in his stomach. Before he could think, he retched, coughing violently as he tried to clear the bile and steady himself. Summoning every ounce of strength, he shoved the loose metal in front of him aside and crawled out of whatever had been encasing him.
Bob stumbled forward, his vision blurred and his head throbbing. “Is she actually—de—?” His words caught in his throat as he tried to focus on the source of the noise.
And then he saw them: three strangers, guns raised, faces twisted in tension and fear, pointing at one another as if waiting for the other to make the first move. His stomach dropped, a cold pit gnawing at him, and panic clawed up his throat.
Scrambling to his feet, he intended to run outside, only for the door ahead to slam shut with a deafening bang. One by one, the other exits also closed, leaving the room sealed. The strangers turned, aiming their weapons at him. Bob raised his hands instinctively.
“Who are you?” the woman with dark hair demanded.
“I—I’m… I’m Bob. I told you, I’m… uh… yeah,” he stammered, trying to ease the tension. “Bob.”
“Jesus Christ, stop saying Bob,” the man in a helmet snapped, clearly annoyed.
“Who sent you, Bob?” the blonde woman pressed, her gaze sharp.
“Nobody!” Bob said defensively. “Why would I be sent? Were you all…You were all sent?”
The dark-haired woman sighed, frustration flickering across her face. “I am not sure what is happening here, but you’re all exhausting, and my job is done.”
Their argument escalated, voices overlapping until it turned into a grim realization: they had all been sent there as liabilities, assets meant to be eliminated by Valentina.
Bob’s instincts kicked in. Together, he and the strangers managed to escape the room just as incinerators roared to life. They fought their way through the facility, Valentina’s forces closing in, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he risked himself to help the others survive. In that moment, he felt little regard for his own life; as long as those he shared this fleeting connection with escaped, he told himself it was enough.
Gunfire tore through him, pain lancing across his body. Darkness crept in. And then, a surge. Something stronger, deeper than anything he had known, coursed through him. The wounds no longer burned, the pain vanished, replaced by raw power and a rush of anger and rage. Acting on instinct, he propelled himself upward, soaring even though he didn’t know he could.
Weakness clawed at him as he gained altitude, vision blurring. Then, a face appeared in his mind: a woman, radiant, impossibly beautiful. He clung to that memory as darkness swallowed him.
When he awoke, Valentina was there, explaining that Earth needed more heroes—and that he was the answer. Insecurity crept along his spine, but underneath it grew responsibility, a sense of a promise he had made to someone he couldn’t fully remember, a vow to be better. Before she left, he assured her he could do it.
Things blurred. He was suddenly in a golden suit, his hair lighter, his confidence foreign. He was fighting the very people he’d just escaped with. Valentina’s orders rang in his head until he snapped back to himself.
“Maybe… You don’t know what I am,” he told her—half warning, half truth.
And then everything went blank.
He awoke in a void, a familiar emptiness. A voice, gnawing at him since childhood, whispered reminders of abuse, addiction, and self-loathing. The same voice that had haunted him since childhood whispered from the dark—the voice that grew louder with every bruise, every drink, every bad choice. The one that had finally quieted when he met you.
He still didn’t know who you were. That killed him. But he knew he’d felt happy. Real happiness. And he remembered promising you something.
Yelena and the others eventually rescued him from the darkness. With their help, he learned to overpower the Void within him.
“You were great in there, Bob,” John said when they returned to the real world.
“Thanks, Walker… wait, wha—in where?” Bob asked, confusion furrowing his brow.
Later, Valentina introduced them to the press as The New Avengers.
Bob just clapped for his friends, smiling from the sidelines, earning a confused glare from Valentina.
A year passed. The chaos dulled into a strange peace. His new family grounded him, gave him purpose. He trained, he helped, he laughed again.
But every night, when he closed his eyes, he saw you.
Your face. Your voice. Your laugh.
He couldn’t remember your name, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty—
He had loved you.
And somehow, some way… he still did.
-----------------------------------
Bob wakes before the lights come on.
The room is always too white, too clean—an antiseptic hum that feels like it’s erasing him one layer at a time. They tell him he’s stable now, that the tremors have slowed, that the gold behind his eyes isn’t dangerous if he stays calm.
He tries to believe them.
Most days he moves like a ghost through the compound’s concrete halls, doing the small things that make him feel human—coffee that he never finishes, sketches of things he doesn’t remember drawing, fragments of faces he’s sure once smiled at him. When he closes his eyes, he hears laughter that tastes like sunlight. A voice saying his name softly, as if afraid to wake him.
He tells himself it’s a dream, a leftover from the time before.
But then come the flashes: the faint smell of paint thinner, a woman’s hand brushing dust from his sleeve, a heartbeat so small and fast it makes his own stutter. He doesn’t know if these are memories or fabrications stitched together by whatever’s left of his mind. He only knows that every time they come, he shakes until someone finds him and reminds him to breathe.
Yelena usually does. She talks to him like she’s teaching a stubborn dog a new trick—half amused, half protective. “In through the nose, out through the mouth, Bob. You can do it.”
He does it because she expects him to. Because she’s the only one who touches his shoulder without flinching.
The government calls it a public relations exercise—the team’s first appearance outside of the facility. Cameras, speeches, staged heroism. He isn’t supposed to be seen; he’s only there in case something goes wrong. “Background security,” Valentina said.
He stands behind the barricades, eyes scanning the crowd. Noise rolls over him in bright waves—cheering, music, the snap of banners in the wind. The air feels too alive, too loud.
Then—
A sound. Small, quick, bright. Laughter.
His head jerks toward it before he understands why. And there, among the behind the cameras, is you.
Time stops.
You’re holding a little girl—maybe four, maybe five. She tugs at your sleeve, pointing toward the stage where the team smiles and Valentina answers questions. But Bob can’t focus on any of that. All he sees is her—her hair catching the late afternoon light, the faint golden glow of the sun after rain, and her eyes—his eyes—wide, curious, shining with a wonder he thought he’d lost forever.
The world tilts.
For a heartbeat, the noise in Bob’s head stopped. The puzzle pieces slammed into place. He saw flashes—your smile, your hand resting on your belly, your voice trembling as you told him something he couldn’t quite remember. Then the image of sterile white walls, cold restraints, and the blinding pain of the experiments that had torn his mind apart.
He staggered back. His throat went dry. Oh God.
Every suppressed memory rushed to the surface at once—your laugh, your nights tangled in quiet warmth, the promise he made before he left. “I promise I’ll come back.”
His breath breaks apart. The gold he keeps locked behind his ribs surges, hot and electric, turning the edges of everything molten. His pulse becomes a roar. For one horrifying second, the line between memory and reality collapses: you laughing in the kitchen; your hand on his cheek; a promise whispered against your skin.
“Bob.”
Yelena’s voice cuts through the static. She’s beside him now, sharp and steady. “Hey. Look at me.”
He forced a gasp, clutching at her wrist like a lifeline. The panic clawed at his ribs, raw and merciless. All he could see, when he blinked through it, was you, standing there with wide, shocked eyes..
He wanted to reach for you.
He wanted to say your name.
But nothing came out.
Only static.
And then you were gone.
He pressed his palms to his temples, shaking, his voice breaking as he whispered, “I know her… I know her.”
But by the time he straightened, chest heaving, you had already disappeared into the crowd.
-----------------------------------
You’d been standing quietly behind the crowd and a number of reporters, watching the press event from a safe distance. The “New Avengers”—that’s what they’re calling them now—were being interviewed as a new symbol of hope after too much loss. You told yourself you were only here out of curiosity. But deep down, something urged you to come and see these people today.
Then you see him.
At first, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you—another cruel illusion born of exhaustion and old grief. But no… that’s him. The slope of his shoulders, the way he moves with quiet purpose even among the guards, the familiar tilt of his head—it’s unmistakably him. He stands just beyond the barricades, watching as Valentina continues on stage, murmuring to one of the guards.
The world narrows to the sound of your own heartbeat. You don’t hear the cameras clicking, the murmurs of the crowd, or even feel the small weight of your daughter’s hands in yours. Nothing exists but him. Bob.
Alive.
Your chest tightens when Bob’s pale, uneasy, eyes flicked around the room like he’s seeing ghosts. Then suddenly—he freezes. His hands start to tremble. The color drains from his face. He stumbles back, gasping for air, and before anyone can react, he’s clutching at his chest, breathing in shallow, ragged bursts.
Yelena—one of the New Avengers—reaches for him, trying to steady him, her voice sharp with worry. But Bob doesn’t seem to hear her. He looks lost—terrified—as if his mind has been ripped open. You recognize that look. You’ve seen it before, back when he would feel vulnerable—those moments when he’d wake up from a nightmare and stare at his hands like he didn’t know who he was.
You take a step forward before you can stop yourself.
His eyes flick toward the crowd, unfocused, searching. And for just that moment, you think he’s looking at you.
Something inside you twists painfully. You want to run to him, to tell him you’re here, that he’s safe—but then Yelena steps closer, steadying his shaking frame. Bob doesn’t move away from her. He leans into her hold, still dazed, breathing unevenly.
Your heart shatters so quietly you barely hear it.
You freeze where you stand, the chaos around you fading into a muffled hum. You’ve spent months imagining what it would be like if he came back—if you could tell him about the child he never met, the nights you cried yourself to sleep alone. You pictured him holding you, promising you that the pain had been worth it. But now, watching him lean against someone else’s shoulder while you stand in the shadows, you feel like a ghost haunting the ruins of your own life.
You turn away before anyone notices the tears building in your eyes. You force yourself to walk—one step, then another—until you’re out of sight, hidden behind the hangar doors. Your hands tremble, your vision blurring. You press a hand over your mouth to stop the sob that escapes anyway.
He’s alive. He’s here.
And yet somehow, it feels like you’ve lost him all over again.
You don’t see the panic in his eyes when he finally lifts his head again. You don’t see the confusion—how he murmurs your name under his breath, disbelieving, clutching his temples like fragments of a life he can’t quite remember are clawing their way back.
-----------------------------------
The world slowed after you disappeared.
The team’s voices came back all at once—dull, indistinct noise scraping against the edge of his consciousness. He barely registered Bucky asking, “You good, man?” or Ava’s sharp, skeptical glance. All he could feel was the phantom thrum in his chest, the echo of your eyes meeting his.
He dragged in a breath that didn’t fill his lungs.
It felt like he was suffocating on memory.
“I—I need a second,” he muttered.
Yelena frowned, watching the tremor in his hands. “Bob,” she said softly. “What happened?”
Bob didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His mind was a static storm of half-remembered faces, laughter, sunlight through thin curtains, the soft rhythm of a heartbeat that wasn’t his.
Then another image struck him—your face illuminated by lamplight, your hand resting over a small swell beneath your shirt, your voice trembling as you whispered, I’m scared everything’s changing, Bob.
His breath hitched.
It was like someone had taken a blade to the dam inside him, and every emotion he’d buried since the serum—since the experiments, since the endless silence—rushed back all at once.
Fear.
Joy.
Guilt so sharp it made him dizzy.
He stumbled toward the nearest wall and pressed his palms against the concrete, grounding himself.
She was real. Not a hallucination. Not a fragment.
“Bob,” Yelena said again, quieter this time. “Hey. Look at me.”
He did. Barely. His eyes were wet. “I had a family,” he whispered. “Before I volunteered for the experiment. And I… I left them.”
Finally admitting it hurt. It tore something open in his chest.
Yelena’s brow softened. She’d seen him lose control before—the tremors, the flickers of gold light behind his pupils when the Sentry pushed to surface—but this wasn’t that. This was purely human.
“Then find them,” she said simply.
He shook his head, voice breaking. “She saw me. She looked right at me—and the way she looked…” His throat closed up. “She looked horrified. I saw it in her eyes.”
Yelena crossed her arms, sighing through her nose. “Then go after her, idiot.”
He tried to laugh, but it came out fractured. “You don’t get it. I can’t. Valentina still keeps me under surveillance half the time, I’m not—safe. Not for them.”
“Bob.” Her tone hardened. “You either make peace with the ghosts you left, or they’ll eat you alive.”
He didn’t answer. But her words stuck.
By the time you got home, your legs were shaking.
The door shut behind you with a hollow thud that echoed through the quiet apartment. You set your now sleeping daughter down on the couch, one tiny hand clutching her stuffed bear. You just stood there for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall, your heart constricting painfully in your ribcage.
You’d imagined this—him walking through that same door, apologizing, holding you while you cried. Instead, he’d looked at you like you were something distant, something that didn’t belong to his world anymore.
You pressed a hand to your mouth, forcing back a sob.
Maybe that was your fault. You’d told yourself a thousand stories to survive the nights he didn’t come back—stories about him working for the government, injured, something. You never once let yourself believe the simplest answer: he left.
And seeing him today only proved it.
He wasn’t the man who promised, “I’ll fix this, I’ll get better. For you. For our baby.”
No—he was someone else now.
Someone with a new team, a new purpose, and a woman beside him who seemed to know him better than you did.
You felt a fresh tear slip down your cheek. You hated that it still hurt this much.
You crouched beside your daughter, brushing her hair gently from her forehead. She murmured softly in her sleep, unaware of the war happening inside you.
“Your father’s alive,” you whispered, the words trembling on your tongue. “He’s alive, baby.”
It should have been relief.
It only made the ache worse.
You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her hair, and whispered, “But we don’t need him. You have me.”
But even as you said it, you didn’t believe it.
Because a small, reckless part of you still did need him—still wanted to scream at him, hit him, make him feel the same hollow that had lived inside you since the night he vanished.
And worse still, that same part of you still loved him.
-----------------------------------
Bob didn’t sleep that night.
He sat on the edge of the cot in his dim quarters—bare walls, single light flickering like it wanted to die—and stared at the half-empty mug in his hands. The coffee had gone cold hours ago. His reflection trembled in the surface, a distorted ghost of a man who no longer knew if he deserved the memories clawing their way back into his head.
He remembered now.
The apartment with the peeling wallpaper. The sound of rain outside. Your voice—quiet but trembling—during the first week of your pregnancy.
“Bob… I don’t know if I can do this.”
He remembered the way you said it—equal parts fear and hope. The way he’d reached for your hand and promised, “You won’t have to do it alone.”
He’d meant it. God, he’d meant it.
But then came the doubts. The fear. The voices whispering that he wasn’t enough. The experiment—he thought it would fix him, make him worthy of being a father. Instead, it stole him away, piece by piece, until even he couldn’t remember who he was.
And now you were out there, raising your child without him.
Yelena leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him like she’d already known what he was thinking. “You’re not gonna rest until you find them, are you?”
He didn’t answer right away. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?”
“Then you’ll find out,” she said simply, walking into the room. “But not knowing is worse. Trust me.”
He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “You think I should go?”
Yelena smirked faintly. “I think you already decided that the second you saw her.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Then start small.” She tossed him something—a folded file, stolen no doubt from one of Valentina’s databases. “I might’ve done a little digging.”
He blinked. “Yelena—”
“Don’t thank me,” she cut in, voice softening. “Just… don’t screw this up.”
He opened the file and froze. There was a photo. Blurry, grainy, taken through some security feed—you. Standing outside a clinic. Holding a child’s hand.
His heart stopped.
He traced his thumb over the corner of the picture, like touching it might make it real.
He stood abruptly, setting the mug down with a soft thud. “I have to go.”
“I’ll cover for you,” Yelena said, shrugging. “Just don’t make me regret being a sentimental idiot.”
Bob almost smiled. “You won’t.”
But as he slipped out into the night, heart pounding, he wasn’t sure if he believed it.
He watched you from across the street that night.
You were sitting on the balcony, wrapped in an old sweater, eyes distant. The warm yellow light from your apartment framed you like something sacred, something fragile. His throat tightened when he saw the faint outline of a small figure asleep behind you.
His daughter.
He pressed his hand against the lamppost to steady himself. The Sentry in him wanted to move—to go, to protect—but Bob knew better. If he walked up now, he might scare you away. You deserved more than another shock.
He stayed until the lights went out.
And for the first time in years, he whispered a prayer—half to himself, half to the universe that had stolen his life away.
“Just give me a chance to fix it.”
He stood outside your apartment for fifteen minutes before he found the courage to lift his hand and knock.
The hallway was quiet, heavy with the faint hum of the building’s old wiring. The air smelled of rain and dust. He could hear the murmur of a television from another unit, the rhythmic sound of pipes creaking behind the wall. Everything felt too loud, too normal—as if the world had no idea that the man standing here was falling apart from the inside out.
He wiped his palms against his jeans. His hands were shaking.
He’d rehearsed what he’d say a hundred times in his head. I didn’t mean to leave you. I didn’t even know who I was. I thought I was dying. But none of it felt like enough. There was no apology big enough to fill the years you’d spent alone.
When the door finally opened, you stood there—barefoot, hair slightly damp from a shower, wearing an old sweatshirt that hung loose around your shoulders. For a second, your expression was blank, unreadable. Then your breath caught.
You didn’t speak.
Neither did he.
Bob swallowed hard, voice trembling when it finally broke the silence. “Hi.”
It was such a small word, but it cracked open everything.
Your eyes hardened instantly. “What are you doing here?”
He took a cautious step forward. “I needed to see you. To explain—”
“Explain?” you repeated, your tone sharp, incredulous. “Years, Bob. You were gone for years. And the first thing you say is that you need to explain?”
He winced, guilt washing over him like acid. “I didn’t want to leave. I was trying to get better. I thought… I thought if I did this—if I fixed myself—I could come back and be someone you and our kid could count on.”
“Don’t,” you cut in. “Don’t you dare talk about her like you were ever here.”
Bob’s throat went dry. “I didn’t know what they were doing to me. The serum—it wiped everything. I didn’t even remember your name until I saw you.”
Your eyes flickered, torn between disbelief and heartbreak. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t expect you to believe anything.” His voice cracked, desperate. “I just need you to know that I never stopped loving you. Even when I didn’t remember you—some part of me did. I swear to God, it did.”
You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s not enough, Bob. Love doesn’t raise a child. Love doesn’t pay for hospital bills or hold your hand when you’re giving birth alone.”
His breath hitched. “You gave birth alone?”
You glared at him, tears stinging your eyes. “Who else was there, Bob?”
That landed like a punch to the gut. He flinched, his entire frame trembling as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
You shook your head. “You don’t get to say that.”
He took another step toward you. “Please—just let me fix it.”
“Fix it?” You let out a broken laugh. “You think you can just walk in here and undo the last five years? She doesn’t even know you're alive.”
The silence that followed was brutal. You were both breathing too hard, staring at each other like strangers carrying the ghosts of people who used to be in love.
Bob’s voice softened. “Can I… can I see her? Just once?”
Your jaw tightened. “She’s at daycare.”
“Oh.” He looked down, eyes glistening. “Right.”
He stood there, awkward and shattered, like a man who didn’t know where to put his hands or his guilt. Then he looked up again, meeting your eyes with a kind of quiet desperation that made your heart twist.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said. “But please don’t shut me out. Let me try to be there. For her. For you. Even if you never let me back in.”
For a moment, you almost gave in. You saw the man you’d loved—the one who used to hold your shaking hands and whisper about a better life. But then the years of loneliness came flooding back, the exhaustion, the heartbreak, the fear.
You stepped back and closed your hand around the edge of the door. “I think you should go.”
Bob’s face crumpled, but he nodded. “Okay.”
He turned, shoulders heavy, and started walking down the hall. You watched him go, biting the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood.
When the door finally clicked shut, you pressed your back against it, sliding to the floor as your breath broke into quiet sobs.
You hated that seeing him again hurt as much as it did.
You hated that part of you still wanted him to come back.
-----------------------------------
Bob sat in the parked car outside your apartment complex for a long time, staring at the rain streaking down the windshield. The wipers had long since stopped, but the rhythmic sound of water hitting glass filled the silence between him and Yelena. He hadn’t said a word in ten minutes.
“You’re not seriously just going to sit here, right?” Yelena asked finally, arms crossed as she leaned back in the passenger seat. “You dragged me all the way here, Barnes-style, and now you’re going to chicken out?”
Bob’s jaw tensed. “She doesn’t want to see me. She made that pretty clear.”
Yelena raised an eyebrow. “So that’s it? You’re going to give up? Just like that?”
He let out a slow, shaky exhale, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “I’ve already done enough damage, Yelena. I ruined her life—ruined both their lives. Maybe the best thing I can do now is stay gone.”
Yelena turned to him, her tone softening, though the edge never quite left it. “You don’t get to decide that for her. You owe her the truth, not another disappearance.”
Bob didn’t respond. He just stared at the dim glow of your apartment building, at the one window he thought might still be yours. His pulse was unsteady, a steady hum beneath the guilt that had lived in his chest since the day he remembered you.
Yelena sighed and reached over to pop the door open. “Then I guess we’re both going in,” she said simply, stepping out into the drizzle before he could argue.
Bob hesitated a moment longer—then followed.
The hallway outside your apartment was quiet—the kind of silence that pressed heavy against his chest. Bob stood before your door for a long time, knuckles hovering in the air, his reflection warped in the peephole. He thought of the last time he’d stood here—your voice shaking with fury, the way you told him to leave before the tears could fall, how he’d walked away wishing he hadn’t.
He wondered if you’d even open the door this time.
Three soft knocks. Years’ worth of guilt behind every one.
When the door finally opened, you didn’t look surprised—just tired. The kind of tired that came from too many sleepless nights and too many half-finished apologies. You met his eyes for only a second before stepping aside, wordless, letting him in.
He hesitated at the threshold, the weight of the moment pressing down—then the sound of footsteps behind him made you look past his shoulder.
And your heart cracked clean open.
“Are you kidding me?” you snapped, voice trembling with disbelief. “You seriously brought her here?”
Yelena blinked, startled. “I—uh—this wasn’t—”
You didn’t let her finish. “You disappeared on us, Bob. You left me alone—pregnant, terrified—and now you show up with her?”
Bob flinched. “Y/N, please—”
“No.” You crossed your arms, holding yourself together by sheer force of will. “You don’t get to come here, with your new girlfriend, acting like you didn’t abandon us.”
“I’m not—she’s not—” he stammered, reaching out, desperate, but you took a sharp step back. The recoil hit him harder than any punch ever could.
Yelena looked between the two of you, sighing softly before touching his arm. “I’m gonna go,” she said quietly. “You two need to talk.”
The door shut behind her, leaving only silence and the faint sound of rain on the window. Bob didn’t move. Neither did you.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” you said finally, your voice brittle and uneven. “You shouldn’t—”
“I had to,” Bob said softly, stepping forward though his hands stayed at his sides. “You deserve the truth.”
You let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You want to talk about the truth? The truth is, you left me to survive it all alone. And now you show up like nothing happened—like I'm supposed to just forget?”
His eyes filled with something raw. “It wasn’t like that. I remember now—everything. But after I escaped that facility with Yelena and the others, it was like living in a fog. I remembered who I was, what I’d been through… but not us. Not clearly. It’s like my brain scrambled the parts of me that knew how to love, how to reach you. I knew something was missing—I just didn’t know it was you. And when my memories came rushing back, I didn’t even know how to find my way back to you.”
You turned away, your breath unsteady. “And that’s supposed to make it better?”
He took a small, hesitant step closer. “No. But it’s the truth. And I’m sorry, I’m so—”
You shook your head, cutting him off, pressing trembling hands to your eyes. “You promised me you’d come back,” you whispered, voice breaking. “You promised.”
He closed the last of the distance then, not daring to touch you, just standing close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the presence that had haunted your dreams for months.
“I know,” he said, voice cracking. “I broke everything. But I swear to you, I’ll never disappear again.”
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The sound of his voice, the quiet desperation in it, made something in you twist painfully. Against your better judgment, against the ache that had defined your every day since he left—hope flickered.
You swallowed hard, tears finally falling. Then, slowly, you nodded.
“Fine,” you said, the word fragile but firm. “Explain.”
And he did.
It all came spilling out. He told you about the facility, about waking up strapped to a table, about the experiments that ripped apart his mind and rebuilt him into something he didn’t recognize. About the nightmares. About how every time he tried to piece himself back together, it was like reaching for something that burned to the touch.
He spoke until his voice went hoarse, until he was wringing his hands like he could squeeze the guilt out of his skin. You listened because some part of you needed to, because even through all the hurt, you could hear that he wasn’t trying to justify—it was confession, not defense.
By the time he finished, your eyes were wet. His too.
“…You should’ve trusted me,” you whispered.
Bob looked at you, his own eyes rimmed red. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I hate myself for not remembering—for not coming back.”
His gaze flickered down, then back up, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I left you when you needed me most.”
Silence stretched between you, thick and unsteady. He shifted his weight like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. His next words came out barely above a whisper, trembling with something close to fear.
“Can I… please see her?”
You looked at him for a long time, searching his face. The man standing before you wasn’t the same one who left—he was worn down, haunted—but there was something in his eyes you recognized. The warmth. The regret. The love that had survived everything.
You exhaled, slow and shaky.
“She’s at daycare,” you said softly this time. “We can pick her up.”
And for the first time in years, Bob let out a breath that sounded like relief. A small, broken kind of hope.
The walk was quiet. Too quiet. Every step seemed to echo against the damp pavement, the scent of rain still clinging to the air. Puddles caught the late afternoon light, turning the street into a blur of gold and gray. People passed you by—laughing, carrying groceries, scrolling through their phones—oblivious to the quiet storm still settling between you and the man beside you.
Neither of you uttered a word. There was too much to say, and no words gentle enough to hold it all. Still, every few steps, Bob would steal a glance at you, like he couldn’t quite believe he was walking next to you again. You kept your eyes ahead, heart pounding with every block closer to the daycare.
When you finally arrived, the world seemed to still. Through the gate, your daughter spotted you and broke into a run, her small backpack bouncing behind her. “Mommy!” she squealed. You dropped to your knees, arms wide—until she stopped short. Her bright smile faltered as her gaze caught on the stranger beside you.
Bob froze. His breath hitched, shoulders trembling like he might fall apart right there. Slowly, he crouched to her level, eyes wide and wet.
“Hi,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’m… I’m your dad.”
For a moment, the world held its breath. Your daughter tilted her head, studying him with the kind of quiet curiosity only children possess. Then, after what felt like forever, she smiled—a shy, uncertain thing, but real.
“Mommy talks about you a lot.”
Something inside Bob broke. His lips parted, but no sound came. He reached out hesitantly, hands shaking as though he didn’t trust himself to touch her. When she stepped forward and wrapped her little arms around his neck, his breath shuddered. He closed his eyes, hugging her back—carefully, reverently—like he was holding the universe in his arms.
He pressed his face into her hair, breathing her in, whispering something so soft you barely caught it: a quiet thank you. Maybe to you. Maybe to fate. Maybe to whatever cruel miracle brought him home.
Later, the three of you found yourselves at that small diner—the one with the flickering neon sign and cracked red booths. The same place you used to visit when you were still pregnant, craving fries and strawberry milkshakes.
The bell above the door chimed as you entered, and the owner’s eyes widened in recognition. “Well, I’ll be,” she said warmly, her smile soft and knowing. “It’s been a while.” She didn’t ask questions. She just brought your usuals without needing to be told.
Your daughter sat between you, swinging her legs and dipping fries into her milkshake, completely content. She talked between bites—about her favorite class, about how she drew a butterfly today, about how her teacher said she was good at coloring inside the lines. Every story spilled out of her like she’d been saving them for this moment, for him.
Bob listened as if each word were a gift, nodding, smiling, eyes shining in quiet awe. You caught him watching her like she was made of light—like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. Every blink seemed like he was afraid she might disappear if he looked away.
When your eyes met, it was just for a heartbeat—but in that glance was everything unsaid. Grief. Guilt. Love. Wonder. You looked away first, pretending to stir your drink, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.
You weren’t ready to forgive. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. But when your daughter reached across the table to hand her father a fry, giggling when he took it like it was sacred, something inside you began to thaw.
That night, the rain started again—gentle at first, then steady, tapping softly against the windows as you tucked your daughter into bed. The sound filled the apartment, wrapping everything in a quiet, almost fragile calm.
When you stepped back into the living room, Bob was still there, standing near the door like he didn’t quite belong. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, eyes downcast.
“I should go,” he said quietly.
You hesitated. The thought of him leaving again—stepping out into the rain, disappearing into that same silence that had haunted you for years—made your chest ache. “Don't be silly,” you said softly. “It's late. You can sleep on the couch.”
He looked up, startled by the offer. “Are you sure?”
You nodded, arms crossed like you were holding yourself together. “Yeah. It’s just one night.”
Later, when the lights were out and the apartment had gone still, you found yourself awake—listening to the rain, to the faint creak of the couch as he shifted. Sleep wouldn’t come. The space between rooms felt too wide, too full of ghosts.
After a while, you padded into the living room. He was sitting up, elbows on his knees, staring out the window. He looked up when you approached, eyes soft, uncertain.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
You hesitated before answering. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Neither of you spoke for a long moment. Then, quietly, you said, “Come on. The bed’s warmer.”
He blinked, stunned, but followed. You both lay there, a careful distance between you—close enough to feel each other’s warmth, far enough that the air still hummed with caution.
Time passed slowly. The rain filled the silence. And then, barely above a whisper, Bob said, “I love you.”
You froze.
He continued, voice breaking, each word trembling under its own weight. “I never stopped loving you. Even when my mind betrayed me—even when I couldn’t remember… my heart never forgot. I missed you every day. And I’m so sorry, for everything. For leaving you to face it alone.”
Your eyes filled with tears. “You weren’t there when I gave birth,” you whispered. “I was terrified. I’ve never felt so alone. I hated you for that. I hated you so much…” You turned to face him, voice trembling. “…but I hate more that I still love you.”
Bob reached out, gently cradling your face in his hands. His eyes were glassy. “I’ll never disappear on you again,” he promised. “Not ever.”
He brushed his lips against your cheek, catching your tears with a shaky exhale. He paused, just above your mouth, as if the world had narrowed to the space between you. His breath hitched. He waited, eyes searching yours, uncertain, afraid of being rejected, afraid of breaking what fragile piece of you was still his.
You didn’t pull away.
That was all the permission he needed. He leaned in, lips finally meeting yours. The kiss was tentative at first—soft, trembling—then deepened with desperation, aching with a year of separation, longing, and unsaid words. There were no declarations, no promises, only the raw pulse of everything you had both endured finally spilling out.
The rain tapped a soft rhythm against the window as you and Bob lay tangled together in the quiet dark. Every inch of him against you was a spark, a fire that had been smoldering for years, finally allowed to breathe. His hands traced the curve of your back, over the line of your shoulders, along the small dips and rises of your body, grounding you, pulling you back to the life you had imagined so many lonely nights. You shivered under his touch, the heat of his skin pressing into yours making every past ache dissolve.
Every movement, every brush of his fingers across your ribs, your waist, your neck, spoke of longing, of sorrow, of love that had never truly faded. When he leaned closer, lips brushing yours again, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, an apology, a reclamation of everything lost. Your fingers tangled in his hair, hands tracing the firmness of his back, your body arching toward him instinctively, seeking the warmth you had missed, craving the familiar safety of him.
The sound of rain, the quiet whisper of his breathing, and the thrum of your hearts beating in tandem filled the small space. Every touch sent shivers down your spine; every brush of his body, pressing into yours, was a wordless promise, a reminder of what had always been there, waiting for this moment. The subtle weight of his chest over yours, the way his warmth seeped into every part of you, made your pulse quicken, your thoughts dissolve.
His lips traced the line of your jaw, the delicate curve of your cheek, the sensitive nape of your neck, memorizing every contour, every mark, every scar of love and loss. You trembled beneath him, letting go of everything you’d held in for so long, pressing closer to him, inhaling the scent of him, the faint trace of soap and something uniquely his, and finally feeling like you were home.
Time slipped away. There were no clocks, no world beyond the soft glow of the lamp and the gentle hum of rain. The intimacy wasn’t just desire—it was reclamation. It was about proving that love could survive, even when stretched, broken, and nearly torn apart. Every sigh, every whisper, every pause where your breath mingled, became a thread, stitching your hearts back together.
When the storm softened to a drizzle, the quiet of your daughter sleeping in the next room settled over you like a blessing. You lay pressed against him, tangled in sheets and warmth, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek grounding you, his heartbeat syncing with yours. His thumb brushed away the last traces of your tears, lingering on your skin, sending tiny sparks through your nerves.
“I love you so much,” he murmured repeatedly, almost a prayer, almost afraid you’d vanish again.
“I love you too,” you whispered, voice trembling, “even though I hated you. Even though I was terrified. Even though I didn’t think I could…”
He tightened his arms around you, cradling you as if he could hold the whole world, as if his presence could erase every lonely year, every ache, every loss. Your body molded to his, every breath, every touch, every heartbeat a confirmation of love regained, of trust rebuilt, of hearts finding each other again.
The night stretched on, soft and forgiving, as you both lay together, hearts aligned, just breathing, just being, just feeling the quiet, unspoken vow that this time, he would never leave.
-----------------------------------
Morning light spilled gently through the blinds, casting stripes across the room where you and Bob still lay entwined. The rain had stopped, leaving a clean, fresh scent in the air, and the world outside felt softer somehow. Your daughter was still asleep, curled into the warmth of her stuffed bear, chest rising and falling in rhythmic innocence.
Bob stirred first, careful not to wake you, though his gaze lingered on you for a long moment. The soft curve of your cheek, the faint glimmer of tears dried on your skin, the way your hand rested limply near the sheets—it all spoke of vulnerability and trust he’d longed for. He traced a gentle line along your arm, savoring the intimacy of simply being near you, the years of absence and regret dissolving in the quiet morning.
“I’ll make breakfast,” he whispered. You stirred, blinking sleepily, eyes softening as they met his.
“No, you already did enough,” you murmured, though a small smile tugged at your lips. He only shook his head, moving to the kitchen to pull together something simple while you watched your daughter stirring, yawning, and reaching out for you. The little moments felt miraculous—mundane, yet miraculous—because they were no longer imagined. They were real.
Breakfast was simple pancakes and orange juice, laughter filtering softly into the room as Bob learned his daughter's little quirks, the way she tilted her head when she was thinking, the way she insisted on pouring her own syrup even if it meant a sticky mess. He smiled every time she looked at him, and slowly, cautiously, you could feel the last remnants of your fear melting away.
“Mommy, can Daddy sit with us?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Yes,” you said softly, your voice carrying both surrender and relief. Bob’s chest swelled in a way it hadn’t in years. This was the family he’d lost—and finally, finally, he was part of it.
By mid-afternoon, Bob had nervously, cautiously led you and your daughter to the Watchtower. The air of the facility was different now—less sterile than it had been the first time he’d met his team, more like home in a way he’d never imagined.
Yelena was the first to greet you, arms crossed but a teasing smirk on her face. “Well, this is… unexpected.”
You laughed lightly, a little embarrassed. “I owe you an apology,” you said. “I was rude before… I assumed things about Bob… and about you. I’m sorry.”
Yelena waved her hand casually. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I get it. You’ve got a lot to process. I’d be grumpy too if someone I cared about disappeared for years and came back just like that.”
The tension lifted immediately, and you felt a little lighter just from seeing her smile.
Your daughter, her small hand clutching Bob’s hand, bounced slightly with excitement, her wide eyes drinking in everything—the shiny floors, the strange gadgets, and the enormous team of “grown-ups” she was meeting for the first time.
“Okay,” Bob murmured to her, crouching down so he was at eye level. “These are my friends. Some of them are a little scary, but they’re all nice. Promise.”
Alexei crouched down immediately, grinning and extending his massive hand. “Hello, little one,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice. She giggled, testing out the words, “Hellooo!” before leaning toward him and giving a tentative high-five. Bob chuckled, shaking his head.
Yelena leaned against a console, smirking. “See? I told you they’d take you back.”
“Shut up,” Bob muttered, though his grin betrayed him. Every member of the team seemed genuinely charmed by his daughter, and Bob felt a flutter of relief that this first introduction wasn’t a disaster.
Bucky knelt down, softening his imposing presence. “So, you like superheroes?” he asked, voice gentle.
“Yeah!” she squealed, pointing at the monitors. “Can I see you fly?”
Bob’s chest tightened at the normalcy of it all. This is what I missed, he thought. All of this. Every ordinary, extraordinary moment.
You leaned into Bob’s side, letting your fingers curl around his as he guided your daughter around the room. He seemed almost giddy, yet careful, like he couldn’t believe this was real.
“This… this is perfect,” he whispered softly, almost to himself, “I never thought I’d ever experience this.”
You kissed his shoulder lightly. “You deserve it,” you murmured.
And in that moment, surrounded by the people who had become their family in so many ways—his team, his child, you—Bob felt a strange, unshakable happiness. It wasn’t the thrill of a mission or the adrenaline of a fight. It was calm. It was warmth. It was home.
He held you close as your daughter ran off laughing, and for the first time in years, Bob let himself believe that this was the life he had been waiting for—the life he had fought for, the life he had feared he’d never get to live, now unfolding before him in quiet, beautiful moments.
He pressed his forehead gently against yours, breathing you in, grounding himself in the reality he’d once thought lost. “I love you,” he whispered again, his voice low and steady. “I love you both so much. And I’m never leaving—never again.”
You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and in that perfect, ordinary moment, surrounded by laughter, warmth, and belonging, you knew—for the first time in a long time—that you were home.
Hiii, I love everything you write! I was wondering if you could write something for Lewis Pullman x fem!reader, a story based on the song Sweet Melody by Little Mix. Since he’s in a band, the lyrics could really fit.
Perdón por el mensaje anónimo, simplemente soy tímido. <3
Awwww don't be shy! Admittedly, I had to google translate the message, but it gave me a mild case of cuteness aggression.
I'm so glad you still decided to send this request though, it was super fun writing for and I got to play around with it a lot :)
And yes, the fact that he's alr in a band really helped the process, lol. I’m thinking maybe I'll write some more revolving around that little tidbit...🤔💭
Enjoy!
———————————————————————————-
Fading Chords
Lewis Pullman x reader
You met him on a night that wasn’t supposed to matter.
A friend of a friend dragged you to a dive bar where the lights were too dim, and the floor stuck under your shoes. You were halfway through a watery gin and tonic when Lewis stepped up onto the low stage with a guitar that looked older than the bar itself. He didn’t say much—just nodded to his bandmates and adjusted the mic like it might bite him.
Then he started to play.
His voice was quiet. Not the kind that demands attention, but the kind that earns it. A little shaky, a little too soft for the room, but laced with something real—like he wasn’t performing for anyone, just with the music. You didn’t know the song. It might not even have had words yet. But you felt it pull at something deep and sleepy inside you.
Later, when you told him that, he blushed so hard he dropped his glass.
You fell in love slowly, and then all at once. Like a record warming to life under the needle. He was shy, and you liked that about him—how he tripped over his sentences but never over his meaning. He didn’t say things perfectly, but he said them with his whole heart. He asked before holding your hand. He texted you random song lyrics at midnight because they reminded him of you. He remembered your coffee order, your favorite Beach Boys album, and the way you always double-checked the locks at night.
He called you his “lucky chord.” Said everything sounded better when you were around.
Your life together was small and warm and filled with music. Mornings meant burnt eggs and vinyl crackle. Evenings were quiet strums in bed, Lewis humming songs he hadn’t finished yet. He’d play you fragments, looking at you like he was waiting for approval and terrified of it all the same. Sometimes he’d smile mid-song, just because you were there.
And you gave everything to that boy with his gentle hands and stammered jokes. You let yourself believe it would last.
But love, you’ve learned, doesn’t disappear all at once.
It fades. It thins. It rewrites itself in minor chords.
He started working more. Acting gigs that took him out of town for weeks. Then months. He still called, still sent you postcards from places you’d never been, but it was never enough to cover the space growing between you. The music didn’t stop, but it changed. Less about you. More about distance. About longing. Sometimes, it felt like he was writing love songs at you instead of with you.
When he was home, he was tired. You’d climb into bed beside him and feel the weight of everything unspoken settle between your bodies. You’d ask how his day went and he’d mumble, “Fine,” like the answer had been prerecorded.
He never stopped being kind. That was the hardest part.
He wasn’t cruel. He didn’t cheat. He didn’t lie. He just... wasn’t present anymore.
But he’d still pick up his guitar. He’d still play for you, hands slow and reverent on the strings, singing songs that made your chest hurt. And for three minutes, you’d forget. For three minutes, it felt like love again. But then the song would end, and you’d both be sitting in silence, pretending you hadn’t noticed.
He was still writing ballads. You were stuck in the bridge.
You held on longer than you should have. Tried to be patient. Tried to speak the language of someone who only knew how to say “I miss you” in melody. But eventually, the words caught up to you. The ones he couldn’t say. The ones you couldn’t keep swallowing.
And one evening—quiet, overcast, nothing dramatic—you left.
He was away filming. You folded your clothes into a suitcase with shaking hands and took one last look at the apartment that used to feel like a heartbeat. You left him a note on the table. Not a monologue. Just a sentence:
“We used to be in tune. But I can’t dance to a song that doesn’t see me anymore.”
You walked out to the sound of your own footsteps.
For a long time after, music hurt. Every chord felt like him. Every song on the radio was a ghost with his voice. You stopped listening. Stopped humming. Stopped letting melody brush against memory.
But healing doesn’t ask for permission. It arrives in small, quiet ways.
One afternoon, you find yourself tapping your fingers on the steering wheel to a song you barely know. The rhythm stirs something soft and unexpected. It’s not the same song you used to dance to—it’s new, uncertain—but it’s yours.
You start humming again. Off-key, uneven, but free.
And with every note, you feel a little more like yourself. Not the girl waiting for a melody to fill the silence. Not the girl lost in someone else’s song.
It’s a Jake Seresin fic with his younger wife reader and the daggers don’t really like her because they think she’s just with him for his title or money or whatever, and then Jake is in an accident, emergency ejection let something, and it’s really bad, at least Rooster, Phoenix, and one of the other Daggers are in the waiting room waiting for an update on Jake. Reader arrived and is also in the waiting room, nowhere close to the others (ya know, since they hate her) and she’s very upset and crying, and Rooster is like “I don’t think there’s any way she’s faking” and then goes over there to comfort her, and in part two she is pregnant, can’t remember if Rooster asks her in the waiting room or if this is a whole other thing, but in part two she tells Jake and he talks to Mav and decides he’s gonna quit the navy or something, at least being a pilot, didn’t tell his wife because he knew she’d be pissed, and when the rest of the Daggers find out he’s leaving their immediate thought is that she made him, then Phoenix (? maybe Rooster?) is like “no, she wouldn’t do that” and then they tell her and she knocks some sense back into Jake and happy ending
Edit: my bad, it was Jake, not Bob. Guess I got confused because I usually only read Bob fics
I edited the rest of the post to be correct, so the corrections are in blue,
Also, this was noticed because someone found the fic and commented it, so it’s there
when did you get hot? final part - dan from the voice in your head
characters: autistic!oc!liani x ocd!dan
warnings: 18+ oc is referenced having long hair and golden skin (trying a poc?), political matters/parents are conservative, lots of angst, arguments, self esteem issues, coming out, a lot of intimate/comfort talks, dan’s ocd, cuddling, making out, eventual SMUT: grinding, fingering, handjob, oral (f+m!receiving), edging, unprotected p in v,
word count: 23.3K
summary: Dan begins to find every little thing wrong with Mat, it comes to a heights when it comes to Liani, and he’s repaid with a visit from his family.
READ THIS note: hey yall, autism actually isn’t a disease you can catch, thank you for very much. There is some far right opinions in this (that I do not agree with!) if you get all of your information from Fox news, I wouldn’t read this! You can actually block me. There is some talks of OCD, and mine really manifests in extreme avoidance and shoving things down (yeah thats also ocd) so it’s kinda what Dan deals with…On a lighter note so much fluff between these two though!!!
series masterlist | spotify masterlist
The Friday night movie marathon night came around as it did every week, but it turned into a double feature at the movie theater. He wanted to do something special after she’d been so stressed out with everything changing. The nostalgia of the movie experience soaks into them as they approach the building. Liani takes a moment to look for a fidget in her bag while Dan gets the door for her, she gives him a lingering look when they walk inside. He orders them popcorn, snacks and as much as he wants the popcorn tin he can’t afford it. But Liani wanted it too, she wanted to give back to him in some way for everything he’s done. Dan wasn’t used to that, at least not with Mat, she wanted him to feel as important as he treats everyone else.
“You don’t have to do that.” Dan murmurs.
“I know.” she smiles, hand gliding over his shoulder, while the theater attendant hands him the tin.
Dan walks closer to her, he hands off the tickets before following her to the correct theater. Sitting next to each other, once the two of you get through the majority of the food, Liani reaches his hand, he glances over at her with an encouraging smile, interlocking their fingers. She leans into him, he unlinks their hands only to push up the arm rest. That’s when she curls up into his side, the instinct to kiss her forehead overcomes him. It just makes her snuggle in deeper, that’s when he knew he did something right. With her it was easy to just let go, not second guess everything that he did. The way she reacted to things was so visceral and she cared about things he said, remembered them.
It felt special to Dan, someone he didn’t have some dark past with, even when she didn’t agree, she always tried to find a way to understand him. It came with his anxiety, when his thoughts were spiraling, he was trying to keep them to himself, avoiding asking for reassurance. But sometimes he just needed to talk, Liani always told him the reality of the situation, grounded him in what was actually going on rather than what might be happening in his mind. She heard others talk about him, saying things she knows they’ll never understand the way she does. There was some kind of trust, something they both felt, where they saw each other for what's underneath, somehow they didn’t fail to make every part of each other feel worthy and loved.
Now that he stayed over their mornings would start with coffee, Dan usually wound up wrapped around Liani, it was early Spring, they still had freezing mornings that he made warm. But then again, she would crack a window to get the aroma of a beautiful early morning, and another excuse to stay in his arms longer. The dynamics is easier at Liani’s place, when they’re alone, they are allowed to be any way they want.
It was different when they were at Dan’s, in the kitchen, whispering sweet nothings while hovering in closer to kiss-when Mat walks in, all smiles and loud voices.
“Good morning!” he cheers, awkwardly freezing when he sees them leaning in to kiss, which he clearly interrupts. Liani turns away from Dan to mutter a kind reply with a fake smile, she tries to mean it.
She was determined to find a way to like him, not to look only at the flaws or what he’s done. But when do things become too big for someone to see through and accept? Especially when she tried and it was just something that wouldn’t happen. Liani was stubborn all the way around, when she came up with a solid-logical narrative she went with it. This time she couldn’t come up with one that made her like him, no matter how hard she tried.
“I’m gonna go get ready, are you done in the bathroom Mat?”
“Yup! Just took a huge dump though, so might wanna let that air out.” It takes Liani a moment to process, Dan glares at his friend, “I’m just joking, jeez, tough crowd.” she forces out a laugh, trying to ease the tension but it makes it worse. She turns on her heel, cringing at her own behavior, he was trying to be lighthearted, it’s not a big deal. It would’ve been funny to come out of someone else's mouth, but not his.
Liani was like a brick wall around him, she knew it wasn’t all about him, because he was certainly trying. Mat just always caught them in the worst spots, in the wrong times. There were some things that were harder than others, she knew how to stand up for herself, others, but when she had a bad feeling in her gut-It was hard to shake it. Learning more and more about what he did, when Dan was away with Mat, she was always worrying if he was safe. Liani wouldn’t text him, she didn’t want to alarm him-didn’t want to make his anxiety worse, knew that it was probably just her own anxiety. But it didn’t stop her from worrying.
They were cuddling on the couch during a movie night, just finished eating maybe an hour ago. They were under a blanket, Liani’s hand began to wander up in his clad thigh, index finger skimming his bulge. Dan’s eyes go to her with a longing stare that doesn’t deviate, feeling his cock stir from the simple contact. She moves in closer, the teasing hand trailing up his stomach, along his chest before cupping his face. He tilts his head to the side to meet her in a kiss, gentle, yet filled with need, it’s slow, until it’s not. Tongues entering the mix, he doesn’t have to exert much energy to scoop her up in his lap. The shorts she was wearing were tiny, so they grow taut around her hips as her legs stretch out to either side of his thighs.
Dan’s warm palms sliding up the soft skin of her thighs before tugging her hips forward. She yanks the shirt off her body, revealing the purple lace bra she wore. He ducks his head down to kiss over her chest with slow admiration. “You are so beautiful.” he rasps, hands pressing gently against her ribs, then capturing her breasts and he begins to knead. Liani grinds her core against his bulge, feeling the hardness growing.
“Touch me,” Liani starts, leaning into his neck to whisper, “I’m so wet, been thinking about you touching me the whole movie.” Leaving a kiss right under his ear, before moving back to meet his eyes.
She gave him a devilish smile, his fingers coming to thread into her hair, gently tilting her head to the side. Smashing their lips together, the passionate collision making him moan into her mouth. “M’ so obsessed with you.” he sighs, hands reaching down to tug off her shorts, half naked on his lap.
Dan stretches the gusset of her panties, pressing two fingers to her clit, he watches her teeth sink into her lip. His jaw clenching, squinting with focus, while he slips a finger down to her entrance, petting at the slick, his eyes searching her face. Before they search down the length of her body, the way her hips flex into her touch, the tightness that begins to engulf his middle finger.
“Fuck, we should go to my room.” he suggests, Liani leans in to kiss along his jaw, hungrily, desperate.
“Need you so bad.” she whines, bucking her hips into his hand, he needed this just as much as she did. He slowly moves to pull out but thrusts back inside, filling her deliciously, her walls fluttering around his fingers. Liani’s head thrown back, she cries, “Yes-.”
Then the door bursts open, they hadn’t even noticed it unlocking, Brian, their boss, as well as being Mat’s best friend, walks through the door, she yelps, hiding into her lover’s chest, said best friend coming into the room. “Close your eyes!” Dan barks.
Dan’s hand spans against her back to keep her close to his chest, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “Oh shit.” Mat winces, both of them turning around to face the kitchen.
Liani is lit up completely in embarrassment, Dan can feel the flush breaking out all over her skin, he feels terrible (even if it wasn’t completely his fault). He lowers his voice for her, whispering, “Hold on to me, I’m gonna pick you up.” he stands up with her in his arms, careful to keep the blanket tucked around her. “Stay in the kitchen, please.” he remarks, making eye contact with Mat, planning to come out and grab her clothes.
There was a chance that they didn’t see her at all, he held onto it as he set her on the bed. Kissing her forehead, “I’m sorry baby, I’ll be right back with your clothes.”
When he exits the room, he immediately wants to turn back and never leave her side. Instead he ruffles his hand through his hair to fix it, adjusting the erection in his pants that he was trying to will away, even if she was whining in his ear minutes ago.
Now he was confronted with the reality that they were at his apartment and he needed to talk to the two people in the kitchen, he entered, “Man, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you that we were heading back.” Mat starts.
“We should’ve been in my room,” Dan returns, eyes flitting back and forth between Mat and Brain, “did you guys see anything?”
“No-no.” Brian assures, hands coming up in front of himself in defense.
“Maybe a slight nip slip.” Mat jokes.
Anger boiling like a kettle in his mind, Dan snaps, “Not funny.” his teeth grinding as he glared with fire, trying to keep his composure rather than blowing up, “Seriously, Mat. She doesn’t like being seen like that by other people, it’s important to her.”
They hadn’t seen him this tense since he found out Mat was real, “C’mon I was just joking.”
“Yeah and my girlfriends in the other room on the brink of tears.” he argues, he doesn’t look away, he’s not shy or hesitant. She was more important, how she felt, the way she curled up in like she wanted to shrivel up and not exist-he hated that. “It’s not your fault but just-be sensitive about it.”
He turns into the living room to grab Liani’s clothes, a loose fidget and a hair clip, nodding to the two of them awkwardly before walking back to his room.
Liani has her knees to her chest when he opens the door to his room, cheeks wet from tears, “Baby.”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, wiping harshly at her tears, “I know it’s stupid and my fault, but it’s so…I don’t like others…seeing me like that.”
It wasn’t something she specifically flaunted, she didn’t feel bad about herself-but to her, her body was precious and she didn’t want just anyone to see her nude. “I should’ve stopped us, I knew we needed to.” he replies, sitting across from her on the bed, finding the hand that cupped her knees and squeezing her fingers. “They didn’t see anything.”
“What if they're just lying?”
“I think we’d all prefer that, at least it makes me less angry.” he said, dipping his chin down to get a better look into her eyes.
“Really?” a barely-there tilt to her head.
“Just hate when you feel uncomfortable.” Dan said, swallowing deeply.
“I love that you care so much.” Liani retorts, fondly, shoulders releasing a little. “Can you hand me a shirt?”
“Of course,” he gets up to grab a shirt from his closet, neglecting Liani’s own shirt on the bed, (not that she minded). He sits back on the bed, legs crossed, while her legs fall to the side, no longer completely closing herself off, while she slides the shirt on.
“It just all caught me off guard.” she starts, pressing one thumb into the other thumb nail, trying to soothe herself. Dan darts up, walking over to the bed side table to grab her fidget spinner, handing it to her. “Are you okay? I know you can overthink these things too.”
Liani’s hand reaches out for him, “Just worried about you, wish we had gone back to your place.” Dan said.
“Oh, so you just wanna get laid, huh?” she teases, leaning towards him.
“I want privacy.” he murmurs, “So I can hold you, kiss you whenever.”
Her palm presses to the side of his face, caressing his cheek, “But we’re always at my place.”
“I like your place, it’s such a home.”
“You can’t just not be here.” she said, hand falling away.
“Leilani.” Oh her full name, she tried not to melt with the thoughtful sway of his voice, “I know it’s only been six months but you are my home. You are where I feel most comfortable, seen, accepted. And this place?” a furrow in his brow while he shakes his head, “Isn’t my home, not like you.” Dan elaborates, blue eyes dark from his emotions, she could just watch him, the way he spoke, especially when he was talking about her.
Liani doesn’t realize there are tears in her eyes, “You’re my home too.” she whispers, moving on to her knees to crawl towards him. His palms meet the back of her thighs as she gracefully sets herself on top of his lap. Her hands frame his face, while his moves glide along her clothed back, she continues, “I couldn’t ask for anything better, you care so much, about everyone, the way you simply think or do these little things just because…I just wanna love you forever.” It’s a jumbled mess of words of how she feels but it’s all true.
He sighs, melting physically, pressing his forehead to hers, “I’ll let you.”
Her hands caress down the side of his neck and back into his hair, “But we should still go back and forth, I wanna be a part of your world, and when we’re just at mine, I feel like I’m holding you back from your own life and relationships.”
“Don’t be worried about me and Mat. He doesn’t mind, he actually likes this place to himself, he’s just not used to you being around, which is on me.” Dan explains, “But next time we will take it in here or somewhere private before clothes come off.”
“I agree, you’re the only one who I want to see me naked.” she utters, leaning in to tickle her nose against his.
There was a bit of pride in that, that she would want that, that she was all his. A large grin spread across his lips, all crooked teeth and sweet dimples, “Only woman I’d ever want to see naked again.”
Liani giggles, softly kissing him, their noses clashing before she pulls away slowly, hesitantly. He pushes forward to peck along her cheek, down her throat, not sexily, but rather in dramatics, growling against her skin, fingers wriggling against her sides. She jumps in his arms, laughing as her head rolls back, his nose nuzzles into her throat. Her hands on him, one skimming his shoulders, the other splaying across the back of his neck.
“You’re so soft.” he husks, stubble rubbing against her skin, “I love you so much.” her fingers playing at the hair crawling up the back of his head.
“I love you,” she trails, “Can we just cuddle?”
“Only if we never stop.”
Liani’s guilt still welled up, not wanting to hold Dan back but also not wanting to force him into a relationship he didn’t want. His dynamic with Mat has always been unhealthy, and there’s no way to erase the damage done. He could tell she didn’t want to trap him, from the time she asked to be alone, or encouraging him to spend time with friends.
Then he began to spend Friday nights and Saturday mornings alone, so Liani could have her space, and he could spend time with Mat. On Saturday nights, she came over with takeout, spending the night and going to Liani’s Sunday night (she doesn’t want to leave Mousey alone). If she needed more time, he gave it to her.
Dan would miss her every second, the calm that she brought in his soul, even just seeing a glimpse of her face when she went to the bathroom. Liani would take time to decompress, editing pictures, reading a book, doing some yoga or self care, in her own room. She didn’t mind that he was around sometimes, all he wanted to be was closer to her, it was getting significantly easier for him to be there at a distance. He’d sit on the couch, drawing, maybe making her food or cleaning. Just being in her vicinity made him feel lighter, like he belonged, he became overwhelmingly comfortable.
There were so many of his things already strewn around her apartment, even when he was gone, he wasn’t. Plus he texted her, checking in on how she was, always telling her how much he loved and missed her. Then she’d bump into a gym bag or an extra pair of shoes out by her patio door. A coffee mug she bought just for him, or even though she used almond milk she always bought him whole. His body washes in her shower, a blue tooth brush by her sink. Sometimes if she missed him, she would use a bit of his cologne on a spare blanket. His clothes were all around her room, she would even find Mousey curled up on one of his shirts.
Mousey loves Dan, sometimes he would hiss when she picked him up. Usually he had to be cranky about it with her, not because he was mad which was proven by a purr seconds later. With Dan, he’d literally crawl up his legs to get his attention. Mousey always knew when he was going to be there, he'd come up to the door a minute before Dan actually arrived.
It was just another sign to her that he was the right one, even if she didn’t feel it in her gut (which she hasn’t felt anything stronger). They were going to put to the test, he was coming home with her for a weekend with her family. Liani was planning to go for her birthday, but her friends from home wanted to come visit.
There was no reason not to move in together aside from Mat, but he didn’t really feel like that was a problem. He had a steady job, from what Dan knew he was saving up money to eventually be on his own. So he wasn’t really worried about that side of it. He didn’t know what she wanted, if she wanted him to move in. He wanted to be near her, to clean up when she’s mentally exhausted, to make her food, to see her in her element, and take care of her. One of his favorites’ are when she’s fresh out of the shower, or in the shower.
That next Sunday, Liani’s over at Dan’s, Mat was out getting coffee with a friend. She gets into the shower, slipping away from her boyfriend’s sleeping form. But when he didn’t feel her next to him he got up to find her, closing the door with a soft click, locked it before he slipped in.
“Can I get in with you?” he questions.
“Yeah, just thought you were asleep.” she said.
Dan shucks off his boxers and t-shirt, setting his glasses on the counter before pushing the shower curtain open. When he’s finally under the spray, his hands come to her waist, tugging her perfect ass into his front. Tucking his head into her neck, keeping her close with a trailing touch over her stomach. She can feel his cock stir in between them, her own hunger flaring in her, she turns around completely. The rain of the shower pelting down on them while she kisses him harshly, arms hooking around his neck. “Missed you so much.”
Even though the two of them had sex last night, it was quiet, slow, full of love and devotion. Sometimes it was messy, fun sex that usually ended in a flurry of passion. It wouldn’t ever be enough, he needed more of her, of whatever that is, all of whatever she’d give him. The tempo didn’t matter, being able to share that connection with her is what is.
Then her hand slides against his abs, grasping at his length and pumping him slowly. Dan moans against her lips, hair a wet mess on his head.
“God, I need to touch you.”
He presses Liani against the wall, one hand next to her face, her palms come to his waist when his mouth collides with her again. Dan takes his time, languishly kissing down her body, taking her breasts in his hands, tweaking her nipples. Liani arches her back into him, his lips moving down her stomach, her hands slipping from him as he falls to his knees in front of her. The anticipation makes his heart thunder in his chest, the rain of the shower pelting down on his head. He moves one of her legs over his shoulder, perfectly leveling his face with her core as he raises a bit more. She watches him with glassy eyes, little huffs of air coming past her lips, then she hears a click of the door, jolting forward and tensing in his arms.
“Hello?” she squeaks, grabbing onto Dan’s shoulder.
“Oh shit, I just needed to pee.”
“I locked the door!” Dan grunts, gently setting her down before standing up, he turns around to shove the water from his face. He peaks his head out of the shower, squinting, “Why are you still here? Leave!”
“I gotta take a piss-.” he defends.
“Get the fuck out!”
Mat leaves the room, Liani leaning against the shower wall with her chest moving up and down quickly, lips swollen. He moves over to her with regret in his eyes, they shouldn’t have been here. She was pushing this to make him feel better and he just needed to stand his ground, tell her he didn’t want to be there. This wasn’t a maybe. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I yelled.”
“I’m okay,” she whispers, not looking into his eyes, he felt terrible. “Maybe just need some time to think about space?”
“Yeah, okay. Take your shower, I want you to lock the door again, I’ll make sure he doesn’t come in.”
“You can unlock it?”
“Yeah, with a butter knife, I’m sorry.” he murmurs, fingers brushing over her cheek. “I wanna leave after this, alright?”
“I do too, are you okay?’ she replied, leaning her forehead against his.
“I’m pissed he cock blocked me but aside from that…” she smiles, knowing he was trying to be light-hearted, “I’m ready to go home too, we don’t gotta do anything though, I can stay here if you want space.” Dan reassured, he always had to give her an out.
“I know.” she coos, her hands running up and down his waist, “I want you to come with me.”
He hums, leaning in to peck her lips before getting out of the shower, Dan waits on the other end of the door to hear it lock. He was trying not to fume in front of her, knowing that yelling definitely didn’t help. But he was angry at the complete invasion of privacy, especially after he deliberately locked the door to ensure Mat wouldn’t come in. This was different from the accidents before, it felt like Mat was actively trying to make Liani uncomfortable. How many times did he have to tell him that Liani was sensitive about this kind of stuff? Was he doing it on purpose? He truly didn’t know what to believe, he was confused about how to feel, but a part of him wanted to pull away.
Dan goes to his room, quick to throw on clothes, not closing the door to keep an eye out before heading out to the living room to confront Mat. “What’s your problem?”
“Man, I didn’t know you guys were fucking, then I really needed to pee, I still do.”
“Oh my god, you don’t even realize what you did! You’re such an asshole and you don’t even know it.” Dan snaps, jaw working, he starts pacing back and forth.
“I’m sorry, man-.”
“No, no I’m tired of you apologizing, just stay the fuck away from her.” Dan said, stopping in his spot, a finality to his tone, Mat’s eyes widening and he isn’t done, “All the shit I’ve done for you and you just don’t even care.”
“I didn’t mean to come across that way.”
“You never do, Mat. But you never change, or maybe I’ve been trying to change what happened, but I can’t.” he shakes his head, “Liani-she’s trying but she can’t see through it and maybe I’m stupid for doing it.”
“What so now it matters? I thought you understood.”
“I can understand why you’re doing something and still be the one on the other side of that abuse. And there’s some things…I will never understand about you and making my girlfriend uncomfortable is one.”
“Abuse? Dude, that was years ago.”
“And I’ve been in weekly therapy since, and it was for months, Mat. I-I have someone who comes into my life, who treats me well and she tries so hard, she pushes me to be friends with you, to spend time with you, because she’s trying so hard to make me happy. But she’s so fucking uncomfortable around you but won’t say anything because she feels bad. I can’t keep doing this to her.” Dan rants, while Mat shakes his head, “I’m leaving for a while.”
“You’re never here anyway.” Mat retorts. “It’s not my fault she’s being a bitch about it.”
Dan’s composure completely crumbles, clenching his first, “Fuck you, Mat. I shouldn’t have ever fucking helped you, all you’ve done is use me.” he scrunches his nose in disgust, shrugging his shoulders, “I got better places to be now.”
He packs up everything, aside from what she would need, he still kept his door open. His anxiety was truly high, he felt protective over her. By the time she came out, towards him, she didn’t know what was said-but she heard their raised voices. She closes the door, “You’re packing a lot.”
“Yeah, I don’t wanna be here anymore.” he states, throwing the bag down before sitting on the edge of the bed. Distress is written all over his face, he practically begged, “Seriously, don’t make me come back.” his voice cracks, hands racking anxiously through his hair.
Liani searches his face with worry, moving over to him with one hand clutching the top of her towel. “I won’t, I just want you to be happy, healthy, so whatever that is.” he nods, solemnly, swallowing deeply. “I’m gonna drive this time, okay?” her hand comes to soothe over his neck, feeling the way his pulse thundered.
“Hmm.” he nods, it was like once she entered the room, the storm of what happened was crashing down on to him, still. Dan sits there in silence as she gets ready to leave, her gaze kept flickering back to check on him. It’s rare that he goes so non-verbal, but she knew she just had to be there for him in the same way he’s been there for her.
There was something more underneath this, why he didn’t want to be here, it wasn’t about Liani. Deep down he didn’t trust Mat, and that extended to his girlfriend. Nothing might happen, but something did, and now knowing what he truly thought of Liani? Dan didn’t know how to do this anymore. He knew she had her own intrusive thoughts, the idea of Mat making that worse for her? He saw the turmoil radiating through her when she smiled, she tried and blamed herself for the way Mat crosses all of her boundaries.
Being around her, it just reminded him of what he deserved, what a healthy relationship looked like. He needed time away from him, more distance, and maybe forever. Dan didn’t want to feel this need to protect him, to help him, when Mat’s never done anything for him. It wasn’t about the transactional trade, it was about Mat doing the right thing like he said he would, that he understood what Liani meant to him. He knew what she meant to him, he was trying, but maybe it just wasn’t right-maybe Dan didn’t want him to try or be near him.
It was extra quiet when they got to her apartment, she glances over to Mousey, who immediately trods up to Dan. She felt better about the whole situation, taking some time to calm down and regulate in the shower. Though now she was worried about him. “Just set down your stuff and go lay down.” Liani suggests, hand skimming over his hip, while he looks over at her.
“Alright, I love you, Liani.” she smiles at him, because even if he was sad, she felt his love, she leans in to gently kiss his lips.
“I love you more.”
Dan started to go back to group therapy, he was already doing weekly therapy, but needed more support, needed to find other people. That’s where he meets Will, a disabled veteran who had terrible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (or PTSD) from the war. They bonded over quiet environments and talking to someone who wasn’t his therapist or girlfriend (for both parties). He loved opening up to Liani, he told her everything because of how she received it all. But when something really plagues his mind, he knew when he was in pain, she was too, and she didn’t need to feel all of his pain. Will was objective, kind, and could make Dan laugh even in the darkest conversations. He was someone who wasn’t afraid to open up to, there wasn’t a catch or only doing it because of guilt or convenience.
When Will met Liani, it was easy, he knew how much she meant to Dan, and he really tried to respect that. It wasn’t hard, even when she was anxious, Will’s demeanor had eased that. He didn’t seem like he was faking anything, they could trust he was honest about his experience. He was wary to talk about much from the war because it brought him back to a dark place, but still worked around it to tell an interesting story or two. He even pops off his prosthetic leg at one point and makes her laugh, Dan loved seeing her so relaxed, loved that Liani can sit down and have an actual conversation with him.
Dan kept spending time at Liani’s apartment, he had a six month lease with Mat that ended next month. They had only been officially dating for maybe three months, but they knew it was even longer-that something had changed last fall. Neither one of them thought about it being a bad idea to move in together, but there was fear. The distance was shrinking between them, Liani was terrified that it would become too much for her. Or that she would suddenly become too much for him and he would be miserable. Through all of her anxiety, she never realized, she never told him she wanted him there, and she couldn’t feel more loved or content.
It was unexpected, it’s a Friday night, the two of them rolling around in the sheets, it was hot between them. Dan was finally stripped bare, she only wore a bra, rubbing herself against his erection, her wetness streaking across him. His head dips back on a groan, before she leans down to seal their lips over each other, his hand buried in her hair. Her hand comes down between them to run her hand along his cock, before pumping a few times and bringing him to her entrance.
Then there was a knock at the door, it’s muffled, not completely noticeable, but seconds later the door bell goes off. “I can go check it.”
“Really?” Liani humors, resting his shaft against his stomach. “With that?” she points to him and his jaw tenses but he nods, smiling at her. “I’ll be right back, I’ll send them away.”
Liani’s hair was a mess from his hands and she was sure her face was flushed, whoever it was, they weren’t going to get the best version of her. Hopefully it was a short interaction.
It's when she sees three strangers on the other side, that she quickly realizes they resemble Dan’s family that she’d seen pictures of on social media. “Um, hello, you’re Dan’s…” she starts, her nerves wracking through her, there was a flush all along her body, heart racing.
“Yes, I’m Susan, you must be Liani, you really are so beautiful!” she greets, stepping through the threshold to pat at her face, she had curled blonde hair and Dan’s blue eyes. His father, Lance, was around six foot following in after with a familiar crooked smile, but with light brown almost red hair and dark eyes. His little sister, Kieran, who was seventeen, with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, walked in after, she looked a lot like Dan.
“I’m Lance, Dan’s father, you have quite a nice home, it’s very um dark.” he comments, while he looks around the apartment, while she rushes over to turn on the main light.
“Oh I know, the lights can overstimulate me, so I keep them off.” she breathes shakily, realizing she was still in a robe with nothing underneath but a bra. “I’m gonna go get changed, and um get Dan, help yourself to anything really, the bathroom is just right here.” she points, before turning back down the hallway to get away from them.
When she opens the door she’s too stunned to speak, not even processing him in front of her with his dick in his hand.
“They gone?”
“No,” Liani replies, leaning down to the floor to throw his boxers and sweats at him. “Put that away, your family just showed up.”
“W-what?” Dan stutters, his completion going red while his hands grasp at his clothing.
“Yeah, c’mon.” she said, waving her hand about while throwing on some random clothes and running a comb through her hair, putting on a little perfume to disguise the sweat. He stood up from the bed, grabbing out a shirt to throw on since she had taken his.
“How’d they even know where you live?” he presses, putting a deodorant stick under his shirt.
“No idea.” she said, eyes going over to him, before ruffling through his hair to fix it, while he watches her. Then she grabs his hand, tugging him out of the room, walking towards the living room where they are greeted with his family sitting on Liani’s couch.
Dan and Liani move in front of them, “Hey, I’m sorry about the wait, but this is a surprise, isn’t it?” Dan said, his mom rises to hug him.
“It is! But a good one.” she assures.
“How’d you get here?” he replied, patting her back before separating.
“We went to your old apartment and Mat said you hadn’t been around in awhile.” His mom said.
“We didn’t know this was so serious, that you were going to move in together.” Lance adds, squinting with suspicion.
“I’m not moved in yet, we just spend a lot of time together.” Dan explains, fists clenching and releasing, she notices how tense he is. Moving in closer to encompass his fist in her hand, squeezing with reassurance. “Plus, you know Mat, he isn’t the easiest to be around.”
“I know that was tough for you, maybe some distance is good.” Susan supports, smiling at her son, noting the way Liani supported him, the way his anxiety eased.
Dan glances over at Kieran, nudging her with his foot, “Hey kid.”
“I’m not a kid anymore.” she gruffs.
He breathes a laugh out of his nose, “Yeah you are.”
“She’s growing into a young woman,” Susan encourages while Kieran cringes.
“Nope, still my baby sister.” he grins, while she rolls her eyes.
“You know, I was supposed to be at the Mall of America but mom and dad dragged me here?” Kieran complains, before pointing to Liani, she tenses but relaxes once she says, “You are the only reason why I’m remotely okay with it.”
“Alright.” Liani laughs, catching Dan’s admiring gaze, “I hope I live up to expectations.”
“I don’t have any.”
Lance claps his palms together, standing up and dragging the attention to him, “We should go out for dinner.” he proposes, Dan notes the way Liani jumps at the sudden noise, taking a deep breath out.
“We can meet you two out somewhere, we need to check into our hotel.” Susan adds.
“Can I stay with them?” Kieran asked, eyes wide, pleading, “Just until dinner.”
“Kier, they need their privacy.” Lance said.
“She’s really fine,” Liani assures, smiling over at her while Kieran nervously glances over at her dad, but he goes blank.
“If you’re sure.” Susan presses, looking over at her son for confirmation.
“Yeah, we’re good, meet you guys at seven?”
“Sounds good.”
“Well it was really good to meet you, sweetheart.” Susan hums, moving forward to clasp Liani’s hands in her own, she rubs over the back of her hand with her other palm, with a light in her blue eyes.
Lance’s quiet but he dips his chin, nodding towards her before leaving with his wife. Liani sets up the tv for Kieran while Dan went back to her room, to get ready, to prepare himself. “You have so many pictures on your walls.” she observes.
“I take them.” she remarks, “Do you like crystals?” she just seemed like that type of kid, Liani would know.
“Uh, yes.” Kieran responds, clearly confused by the question.
“I’ll be right back.”
Liani goes back to her spare room, grabbing out a large container of crystals, organized into respectful bowls. She even made a booklet, inciting what each crystal did, how to use them, what they connect with, when she used more than one at a time she called it ‘crystal cocktails’, going off of vibes, color scheme, what they are used for. She comes back out, setting the box on the coffee table before opening the lid.
“Woah.”
“I’ve been collecting since I was fourteen, so I have a lot.” she begins to explain, also handing her the little book, “You can go crazy, I’m gonna go check on Dan.”
When Liani entered the bedroom, Dan was redressed into more suitable clothing, dark blue cartheart jeans, and green henley and as he fixed a watch on his wrist, “You alright?”
“I can’t believe Mat wouldn’t give me a heads up, especially because you never met them, and not to mention we were literally about to have sex, Liani. Feels like an ambush.” Dan rants, starting to pace back and forth at the end of the bed, pulling at his fingers with his other hand. “You aren’t upset?”
“I mean, I’ve been wanting to meet them, you just don’t bring them up, so not really.” Liani admitted, as she sat on the bed, patting the spot next to her. When he does, she moves in closer, bumping his knee with hers. “But your mom added me on Facebook a month ago.”
“She did?” Dan’s eyebrows raise, blue eyes widen, “Why didn’t you tell me?” she pulls out her phone, handing him it, to show him the messenger thread.
“I didn’t want to freak you out, you seemed hesitant about them.”
“It’s not so much my mom or Kieran but my dad’s gotten better because of Kieran, but my brothers-.” Dan shakes his head, handing it back to her, he didn’t need to look over their conversation. He looks down at his hands, Liani reaches out hers to interlace their fingers together. “They always treated me like shit, like I’m an outsider because I wasn’t fully related to them.” he elaborates, “Then Kier was born, even though I was just a little younger than her now, I had a sibling. It was really hard to leave her, I waited til I was twenty to move out. She was so upset, I’ve tried to stay close with her but I feel like a shitty brother for getting so caught up in my own shit. I just never wanted her to feel the way I felt, my brothers adore her, she’s just that kind of person.” he shrugs, losing the point along the way of what he was trying to explain.
Liani saw the intention in his words, that he had so much pent-up tension from his families’ mere presence. “You are that kind of person, when I finally let myself see you-.” she grins, trying not to bite her bottom lip, “I now feel stupid about waiting for so long, for not wanting to accept an prospects of love, because this could’ve played out differently, sooner if I wasn’t so closed down.
“I want it just the way it is.” he declares, turning his head completely and dipping his chin to kiss her.
“I know-that wasn’t my point, my point is, just because someone sees you one way, doesn’t mean you are that.” Liani explains, “Do you think maybe…you should talk to Mat about this?”
“Why?”
“He gave you absolutely no heads up, if you still wanna be friends then I don’t know-it’s whatever…I just wanna figure out this stuff.” Liani tries.
“I don’t wanna be close to him anymore.” Dan replies, “I wanna move on with my life…with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Maybe just acquaintances, I still care about him…I wanna more with you.” he lingers, gently kissing her while his palms press into her sides to feel underneath in his embrace.
Liani pulls away from him after leaving a kiss to his cheek, going to get ready for the supper, she had a while more they had to leave. Once Dan stepped out of this room, he wasn’t in his bubble with her anymore, he had to face the real world. He knows he’s going to wound up talking to Kieran, but he pauses for a second, he didn’t really have to prepare for his sister but his parents were different. Lance always doubted him, he was the forgotten middle child, and throughout the Mat thing he barely cared. His whole world was falling apart and he should’ve known better than to turn to them for help.
“What Dan? How could you let something like that happen?” Lance interrogated through the phone, while Dan took the brunt end of his inability to be compassionate.
There was no good answer to that question because he didn’t know, he remembered his mom’s reaction was a little better-but he still viewed him as the main problem, even with the way Brian treated him. Now he wanted to try and move past the hold Mat on him, but right now he was frozen in place.
Liani turns back to him, now clad in only a bra and jeans, heading towards her closet, she paused. “Hey…” she starts, moving forward to cup his soft cheeks in her hands.
“Just suddenly feel so anxious.” he admits, leaning into her touch. “My parents…” his voice trembles, “I know they love me but I feel like they’re ashamed of me.”
“Why would they be ashamed of you?” she asked.
“The whole Mat thing, what if they bring it up and you realize how much of a freak I am?” Dan rambles, not looking up at her, she lifts his chin with two fingers, seeing his blue eyes gently magnified by the lenses he wore.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of and nothing Dan, nothing will make me change my mind. Because I know who you are now, and that’s what matters and what happened…It’s not your fault, not completely, if your parents can’t understand that, then they’re just another floating opinion, they aren’t right.” she said, or more promised, “I love you and you deserve support.”
“How are you so-.” he sighs, bashful, overwhelmed, turned on its head while his eyes flicker away before meeting hers. Dan steps in front of her, cupping her cheeks before bringing Liani into a deep kiss. Her hands rest on his pecs before his palms cup her waist to pull her in closer. When they pull away, he buries his face into her neck, her hands trailing along his shoulder and down his back.
She kisses the side of his head, “Are you good to go out there?”
“I’m not worried about Kier, I can tell she already likes you.” he said, moving to come eye to eye with her. “I’ll be okay.” she smiles, this time she tucks her head along his throat to kiss along the stubbly skin. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Dan leaves the room, letting Liani finish getting ready for dinner, she always feels better in those situations wearing makeup, doing her hair, taking her time. A shield from who she is underneath, she was able to distance herself from her sensitivities. After she would be exhausted, would want to crawl into Dan’s arms, forgetting all of her anxieties, and worries. She needed to decompress, to not worry about how anyone perceives her. Liani didn’t worry about Dan, not that she ever really did, especially when was an exceptional cuddler, he loved to cling and love up on her. He loved to kiss, touch, even lick every part of her with a desire she hasn’t seen before.
Sometimes she wanted to be alone after this sort of thing, but she almost felt alone in a social sense even with Dan around. It wasn’t Liani trying to second guess what he’s thinking because he wore his emotions on his face. If he wasn’t telling her how much he adored her, he was making her food, doing the laundry, cleaning Mousey’s litter box, or drawing her a bath. Dan wasn’t afraid to see her, he wasn’t completely blind, actually she thought maybe he wasn’t at all. He saw her in a way she really wanted, he almost craved to meet every single mark on the checklist.
Dan greets Kieran, who’s no longer sitting on the couch, but rather standing in front of Liani's bookshelf, a photo album laid open in her arms. “How are you doing?” he asked, she jumped at the sudden noise, glaring at her brother, “Did I scare you?”
“What no, you?” Kieran scoffs, rolling her eyes, “You wouldn’t scare a fly.”
“Ah thanks, Kier.” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest, a humored grin on her face.
“I um…” she slowly closes the book in her arms, slipping it back into its spot on the shelf, “You uh, know that I quit ballet. Mom was pretty sad about it, so dad was mad about it, I feel like I just outgrew it, I think” she explains, gnawing on her bottom lip with nerves. “She really wanted me to get into a ballet school but to me…I feel like it should maybe just be a hobby now.”
Dan nods, taking it all in, noticing how nervous she was to talk about this, he could easily assume what his parents reaction was, “It’s good that you’re branching out, new experiences are good.” he affirms, “Call me if he’s ever…yelling, or too much, okay?”
“Okay.” Kieran nods, not meeting his eyes, but she wouldn’t, she never did. “Now talk about Liani, since when does my brother get a girlfriend?”
“It’s a long story, but we were friends for awhile, I had a huge crush on her, and then some other stuff happened-.”
“You had sex.”
He winces, “Jesus Kieran,” jaw working, he couldn’t help but smile at her personality, he missed her being around, even with her unrelenting bluntness. “Then I told her how I felt, she’s autistic so sometimes she isn’t great in social situations, worse than me-.”
“Impossible.” she waves her hand.
“Only if she’s super uncomfortable though,” Dan begins, his face lighting up as he pictured her in his mind, “But when she’s not? She’s funny and witty,” he grins to himself, glancing down at his feet for a moment. “Didn’t even know about the photography thing for the longest time, she’s just unbelievable.”
“Do you think she would do my senior photos?”
“You would have to ask her, but I bet she’d be interested.” he nods, “Are you doing anything outside of ballet?”
Then the bedroom door creaks open, Liani comes down the hallway, with a powder blue top that compliments her golden skin. Her long dark hair draping down her back, half of it up in a clip. Kieran hasn’t seen her brother smile that way he does at even the mention of his girlfriend. She suddenly knew what love looked like-not like her parents, who’d grown distant with each other, controlling. Her older brothers were married but one of them lived in China with their partner (to get away from their father). The other’s relationship sadly mirrored Dan’s parents, working husband and stay at home wife.
Kieran knew what happened with her brother and Mat, couldn’t believe their reactions to it. She doesn’t understand why Dan isn’t more mad at their older brothers being assholes about it, but it wasn’t anything unusual for him. He expected them to react that way, didn’t tell them for a long time because he didn’t want them to judge him. In later years she felt like she lost her brothers, she learned first hand after you disappoint them, they lose all faith in that person. Of course her dad told both of them when she quit ballet, then for them to proceed to call her and berate her. The only person who didn’t was Dan.
“We were talking about you.” Kieran presses, eyes bulging as she fake-grimaces.
Dan moves over to Liani, “Oh you’re talking shit about me now?” she teases, his arm looping around her waist, naturally she leans into his side.
“Of course not,” he mumbles, while she pokes his other side, “Hey-.” shoulders hitching up as he laughs, squirming away from her. But she tugs at his waist lightly and Dan kisses the side of her head.
Getting caught up in the moment, Kieran watches them with a quiet vigilance, a knowing smile on her face. On the way to the restaurant, she talks Liani’s ear off, not having someone like her to look at up to, she had so much to say. Going from asking about how they fell in love in the most innocent way, before slowly transitioning to reveal that she was doing a lot more art.
“You’re drawing? I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, well, painting, I also got a job cause mom and dad don’t wanna pay for my supplies.” she addresses, he glances back at her with concern.
“You know, you could’ve asked me right?” he questions, looking back at her through the rear-view mirror.
“I didn’t need it, though.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Dan sighs, “Whatever you do, Kier, I wanna support you but you gotta let me.”
“I-I want to go to school for art, but I don’t know if it’ll work, I haven’t been able to convince them.” Kieran explains, “But they didn’t pay for you to go, so I doubt they will for me.” She knew deep down what she wanted, but her reality was different.
Liani watches the interaction quietly, he meets her eyes for a second, knowing he hadn’t really spoken much about not being able to go to college. “Yeah, well, things are different with you, you’re the youngest, the only girl.”
“So, you’re saying I’m the favorite.” Kieran retorts, which makes Liani laugh.
They both go to look at her, “I’m saying you’re special.”
“You’re saying she’s the favorite.” Liani corrects, reaching over to his hand laying on his knee, and squeezing his fingers.
Now that they all sat at the restaurant table, Kieran at the end. It’s quiet, a tad bit awkward until Lance asks her about her job, “So I’ve heard you work with Dan?” Liani nods, swallowing the food in her mouth, not letting her say anything he continues, “How does that go? Working together and all?”
“Well besides sharing a cubicle for a few months and being everyone’s collective assistant, I don’t see him much.”
“You’re the glue, Liani, she was sick for a week and we barely functioned.” Dan claims, her hand laid above the table and he gently clasps at her fingers.
“When we were in the same cubicle, I was also moving around to help and run my to-do list-we uh-.” she swallowed deeply, looking down at her plate as she started to draw blanks on how to explain herself.
“She’s trying to say we were keeping it professional. That we do.”
“Well, let her speak son.” Lance snaps, making Dan’s jaw clench while he casts his eyes down, she feels a slight tremble in his hand. Liani frowns, his hand slipping from hers, and she leans in to squeeze his thigh in reassurance. He was helping, she knew that, sometimes she struggled to articulate her words, especially when she was nervous. Dan had this magic trick where he seemingly knew how to read her mind.
“No, uh that’s the right word, I couldn’t…communicate it.”
“Well, you’re autistic, is that correct?” His father said, a fleeting look then he focused back on his food.
Great, she does one thing wrong and now they have to discuss her mental disorder. She just needed to breathe, not do something she may regret. There was a difference between her anxiety, her anger, but the two were tied up in each other, but when someone pushed too much, in the wrong direction-she got angry.
“Yup.” she answers, giving them a tight-lipped smile.
“That’s nice.” Susan hums, taking a bite of her salad.
“What does it consist of?”
“Sir, it’s not on me to give you a definition, I’m just me, and you can get to know me. It’s hard to just explain what I experience without it sounding weird.” Liani explains, her voice tight, but the way Dan completely deflated was stuck in her head.
“How does one learn? If it’s not your responsibility to explain what you have?” His mother responds. “Doesn’t it make others around you unsafe?”
“Being autistic doesn’t make her unsafe.” Kieran retorts, “and you could do your own research.”
“Well, now that’s not what your mother said.” Lance defends, “With all the things we’ve learned from the news about autism, isn’t it something that…well spreads? We just don’t want that for Dan.”
Dan’s blood was boiling, it wasn’t about him anymore, Liani swooped in to defend him and his father had to bring up something that wasn’t even correct. But he didn’t know what to say, his anxiety shooting up so high that his mind was blank in the worst way. It just felt like everything was happening to him.
“Dad, that shits made up, there’s nothing wrong with her, Jesus.”
“Watch your mouth, Kieran.” Lance snaps, she takes it, like it wasn’t something new, just like Dan did, but more raw.
“Don’t speak to her like that, either one of them like that. You just met her and now you’re antagonizing my girlfriend?” Dan responds, his own anxious thoughts swirling about, he saw her hand shaking and he felt terrible. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to stand up for her, but he wanted to try.
There’s something different in the air, Liani knew they leant more conservative, but it was really that intense? She began to feel a whole lot more uncomfortable, but then his mother said, “How about we just all settle, alright?” she murmurs, calm, collected with a gentle smile on her face. “From what I heard, you two actually have quite a lot in common.”
These people gave her whiplash, “Yes, uh, it…” She is not letting a conservative middle aged cis-white man steal her composure. Liani smiles, a flare in her eye, like she was ready for whatever they would throw at her. “It feels like in all the best aspects.
“That’s good, I’m happy to see you two so in love.” Susan reaffirms, hand coming over her heart.
Dan knew his parents cared in some diluted, distant, kind of way, it wasn’t black or white. They were difficult to understand, they blocked so many of their issues out, when he was younger it was even worse. Susan has grown more progressive over the years, more-so for her children than anything else. When Dan was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder, she realized he needed more from her. (While his father, again, blamed him for it) She didn’t know what to give him, she wasn’t allowed to do it unless covert, but she’s a smart woman. Susan also said things around her husband, things she knew would gain his approval even at the disposal of others. Even her children, they knew the truth, but they didn’t know how to feel it.
“Did you hear about Kieran dropping out of ballet?” Lance starts, making eye contact with her, as she looks at him for a moment, “After almost fifteen years.”
“She’s been dancing since she was two.” Susan said, with a gleam in her eyes.
Lance sets his sight on Kieran, “You could easily go to school for it, you’re so talented.”
It was hard, when the one thing she wanted to move on from was the thing everyone applauded her for. “Now you pretend like I’m here? You know nothing about ballet! I’m sorry you didn’t get to do when you were a kid mom, but it’s actually fucking shit. If I’m a half inch bloated, I’m ridiculed, like I hurt someone or said the most hurtful thing-when I’m the one being treated like crap. All the girls hate me, everyone was so competitive and wanted to just rip others down.”
“That’s not all dance situations, honey.” Susan tries.
“Yeah? Well it’s mine and I don’t wanna do it anymore. The school you want me to go to so bad has so many of the same girls planning to go.” Kieran explains.
“Well, you can’t run away from your problems.” Lance sighs.
“That is rich coming from you.” she scoffs.
He’s ready to flaunt his career, his life of being a ‘good’ christian, “You could pay for her to go to school for art.” Dan counters. He had to do more, he couldn’t let his parents attack the two most important girls of his life. No matter how well Liani took it with a brave face, it was inappropriate, embarrassing and just wrong.
“Art isn’t completely aimless, if she wants to give it a shot, you should let her.” Liani supports, not removing her eyes from their parents. “And it might not end up in a full time career, but I do photography on the side and I make money off of it. I think it’s best to be passionate about whatever path she chooses.”
“On a silly whim she started doing three months ago?” Lance asked.
“I’ve been drawing ever since I saw Dan doing it when I was little. You just never wanted to see it, you never looked, you never cared.” Kieran rails, “I didn’t tell you I wanted it to be my future because you’ve treated Dan like shit when he did.”
“You’re a child, you know nothing.” he corrects.
“She won’t be in a year, she needs to be able to make these decisions.” Dan said.
“Not with my money.”
“So you’d rather her hate her career for the rest of her life?” Dan argues, somehow keeping their voices low, like they’ve done this before. When Dan called this an ambush, she thought maybe he was being dramatic, now he realized-he was not. Liani looks over to Susan to see her watching the whole conversation with a furrow in her brow.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Daniel. You made your choices.” Lance grits.
“And Kier isn’t like me,” Dan said, swallowing deeply, “give her this one thing, god knows you decide everything else.”
There’s silence over the rest of the dinner, none of them wanting to bring anything up anymore. It always ended in fighting, not seeing eye to eye. This was the exact thing that Dan was scared of happening. Once they are done eating, Liani speaks again, “Are you two staying around tomorrow? Maybe I could do some photos for you guys.” she begins, getting out her phone to show them a more professional album with pictures of families and couples.
All four of them are surprised at the suggestion, after everything, his parents thought Liani wanted to be far away from them (It’s what Dan wanted). But his heart fluttered in his chest at the effort, at the anxiety he knew was flowing through her. She still wanted to try, she still wanted them to like her.
“Oh, wow, you really do take pictures.”
“It’s much more than pictures, Lance, these are so beautiful.” She compliments, regret suddenly fills Liani to see the deflated look on Kieran’s face. The way they perceived her art, but wouldn’t even give Kieran the time of day.
“We were planning on a hike in the morning, then we could meet up.” Susan suggests.
“There’s a park nearby that would be perfect for some quick photos.” Liani enthused, glancing over at Kieran again, finally meeting her eyes, “And some for you.”
Maybe she could change their mind, show them that art was more than what they thought it to be. “Sounds perfect.” Lance nods.
“Can I stay with you guys tonight?” Kieran asked, looking between her and Dan.
He looks to Liani, before her parents could say anything she goes, “Of course.” she encourages, before meeting her eyes, “Whenever you need.”
When the three of them get back in the car there’s a collective exhale, Dan starts the car but doesn’t move, leaning back against the headrest.
“I think this calls for ice cream, I can order when we get home if you don’t wanna drive.” Liani said, turning towards both of them, her palm rubbing over Dan’s forearm, feeling the ridges of veins, muscles tendons that seemed to soothe something in her.
“Maybe we could do a pick up?”
“Yeah, let’s do that, what do you want, Kieran?”
When they get to the apartment, they finish their ice cream, all sitting down in the living room together, but they don’t talk. There were plenty of things to say, but it was unspoken knowledge, said in a fleeting moment of defending each other. Afterwards, Dan takes some time to himself while Liani gets the fold out couch ready for Kieran as she showered. Made sure she had extra pillows, blankets, the remote, a waterbottle, an extra baggy of pretzels.
Liani’s in the kitchen, cleaning up from the morning, when Kieran comes out of the bathroom, dressed in her pajamas.
“Hey, I got you some stuff and sat on the side table, and the kitchen is stocked, so you’re welcome to have anything you want, do you have everything?”
“I’m okay, thank you for tonight.” Kieran replies, a soft smile on her face, one that reflected Dan’s. “You know it’s all bullshit, right?”
“I do, I just…wish they knew.”
“Me too.”
“Everything’s gonna be alright, okay? Dan and I will make sure if you need anything, please just call or text.” Liani offers with a gentle look in her gaze that made Kieran trust her, not that she didn’t already earn it. “You want the light off?”
“No, I’m alright for now.”
Liani goes back to her room, when she opens the door, this time Dan’s laying on his back on the bed. He wore pajama’s, dark blue sweats and his Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His hands clasped over his stomach while he stared up at the ceiling, he didn't move or anything. So she just started getting ready for bed, he just needed another second. Then he leant up on his elbows, just as she began to unclip her bra and let it fall from her chest. Then she pushes her jeans down her legs and steps out of them.
Everything about her is so beautiful, in her entirety, in the way she moves, Dan could just watch her, he used to but from a distance. Never wanting to invade her world or interrupt her reality, but now he’s a part of her life and she’s actually a part of his. They want each other there, he didn’t have to sulk alone, or face his parents alone. Even if he hated that night, the way Liani fought through it made him feel proud. That she wanted to be in his life, she wasn’t riling them up because she wasn’t gonna be around anymore. Liani was curating a relationship with his sister, the one that really mattered to him, yet she was still trying to reach for his parents. Dan would never ask that of her, to be cortical or kind when they (in his eyes) had a goal to trigger her.
Liani throws on a nightgown before turning towards him, laying on the bed beside him. Her hand reaches out to splay her fingers against his chest, his sliding up to his fingers interlocking. Dan’s head is turned towards her, “You should go talk to Kier, I wanted to but I didn’t wanna push her, she just met me.” she addresses, while his other arm moves under her body to pull her into his side.
“Yeah, will you be up when I get back?” he questions.
“Hmm.” she nods, reaching up to pet at his cheek, “We can talk a little, cuddle.”
“Perfect.” Dan smiles, half-heartly, but the soft one she returns makes him feel butterflies. He kisses her forehead then he softly pecks her lips, not wanting to leave her side.
Then he slips away from her, walking out of the living room, “Hey, you still awake?”
Kieran turns over on to her side with her phone in her hand, “Yeah.” she sits up, while he sits on the edge of the pull out bed across from her.
“I’m sorry about mom and dad, I’m gonna talk to them again.” Dan said, rubbing his thumb into his palm as he tried to gauge her reaction.
“They won’t budge will they? They treated you like that?” she questions.
Worse. “Yeah, I mean, I really think they’ll come around.”
“I don’t know, I feel like they don’t know me, that no one does or cares.” Kieran confides, looking down at her hands before glancing up at her brother.
“I do-I care, I want to know whoever you are, whatever that is.”
“I don’t think you will, if you knew.”
“Knew what, Kier?” he pressed, concern laced in his tone, eyes roving over her face, trying to notice her body language.
“I think-I’m gay, or well, I am.”
Dan takes a minute to process, his eyebrows raising at the confession, but he just nods, smiling, “Thank you telling me, it changes nothing, Kier.” She was staring at him, before looking down tears running down her cheeks, she wiped them away, “I love you Kieran.” she darts forward to hug him, sniffling as he pats her back.
“I love you too.” she mutters, moving back, Dan reaches for some tissues, handing them to her, “Please don’t tell mom or dad.”
They grew up going to church but their parents' religion always seemed like scapegoat. For them to be judgemental, homophobic, when their mom wasn’t around their father-she acted differently. Susan was always a kind woman, good to her children and step, we all had blind spots though, Lance was that for her. He treated her well, most of the time, took care of her but then he spoke down to her. But what his brothers never saw was the way it hurt his mom, but he noticed, from a young age he didn’t understand his father. He didn’t understand how he couldn’t see her crying, praying, hoping that it would get better, and just not care.
For the most part he tried, they loved Kieran, she was their miracle baby. He could see the reason for the fear of coming out to them. He wouldn’t lie to her about it, she was older now, this wasn’t something he could just look over by her being a kid.
“I bet it’s scary, but whatever happens, whenever you tell them. Just know you deserve love and acceptance, even if they don’t understand all of this, okay? It doesn’t make it better, but I don’t want you thinking they don’t love you.”
“But-but what if they don’t?” she cries, bowing her head, “If something happens, can I come to you?”
“Always, yes.” Dan answers, offering a tight-lipped smile, trying to reassure her when he felt bad. He didn’t want to let himself be scared for her-but he was.
“I-Did you apologise to Liani about mom and dad?”
“I-I haven’t really spoken to her about it, I-I forgot.” Dan said, a crinkle in his brow, hand rubbing against his forehead. “I-I can’t believe they did that-that they would push it that far.”
“They don’t understand what any of it means, the neurodivergent community, or any of that. They live in their little bubble.” Kieran brings her hands together in a circle to depict what she meant. “She didn’t deserve that, she’s been so nice, so….pretty.”
“You wanna see something?” Dan questions, eyeing her for a second with a glint of humor, she nods and he gets up to go into the kitchen to grab his notebook on the table. He comes back, sitting beside her, and opening it up to see pictures of Liani.
“Wow, does she know you do this?”
“Kinda, I don’t really show off my art.”
“Well you should, this is so good, I thought you just did characters?” Kieran asked.
“Not since I’ve met her, and I guess I’ve done it before, I just wasn’t super good at it and then…”
“You have a muse!” she smiles, flipping through the pages, “You should show her.”
“I dunno,” he laughs, awkwardly, “I don’t wanna creep her out, today has already been enough, you know?”
“I get it but did you stop to think maybe it makes her feel better?”
He pauses, because he didn’t think about that, “You’re right.” Dan agrees. “You know she cares about you too.” he said, getting from the bed to stand across from her.
“She wouldn’t be mad that I was here? That I’m the way I am?”
He chuckles at the idea, shaking his head, “No, I couldn’t ever imagine her being mad about who you are, and plus you’re family.”
“Well, go talk to her Dan, goodnight.”
“Night, Kier.”
Dan sets his notebook on the dresser once he comes into the room, crawling under the bed sheets, while Liani closes her laptop to turn into him. He curls up into her, her hand soothing up his chest up around to his back. He closes his eyes at the touch, caressing the side of her waist.
“I’m really sorry about my parents, I knew it was gonna be hard, but not that hard. I-What they said was just…so wrong, you were right, and I want you to know that.” Dan husks, pressing his forehead to hers.
“I do know that, I-it took a long time to accept who I am, but now I try to feel unashamed, because I know there’s nothing wrong with me-”
“You’re just you.” Dan grins, as Liani presses two messy pieces of his hair away, she leans in to kiss his lips slowly, a methodical thank you.
“Is Kieran okay?”
“She’s uh…she’s scared, she actually came out to me, she knows our parents won’t be okay with it, at least not at first.” he begins, while he keeps his eyes closed, her digits running back into his hair. “I know they will eventually come around with the art thing with her, but I feel so bad that the last couple of years I really haven’t been there for her. When she’s the one who actually needed my help, the one I should’ve been caring about. Instead I worried about some creepy stalker rather than my own sister, what kind of brother am I?”
“One who's trying and loves his little sister, doesn't see it that way, or rather that’s just not how it is.” Liani coos, he finally opens his eyes, tracing her features with a not-so quiet anymore yearning. “It’s more complicated than good or bad, and you can always change it.”
“I gotta help her, Liani…If something happens and she needs a place to go, I have to have a solid place for her.” he rants, she nods in understanding while Dan brings her in even closer, legs tangling together, body flush up against each other.
“We can be that.”he chews on the inside of his lip while he scans her face, trying to decipher what she was going to say next, “I mean I know we haven’t spoken about it, but you’re already halfway moved in.”
“It’s not too soon?” Dan asked.
“I don’t think so, I just…don’t feel like it is, we already spend so much time together, like I said, you practically live here, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I want you here with me, I know you said this place feels like a home, but with you-it truly does for me, not the pictures, or decorations, because…I was still all alone, but now it is.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs, rubbing his nose along the side of hers, it made her feel a little weak. “I thought maybe we could move into a bigger place, maybe rent a house? Just want enough room for her…”
“If we can afford and figure it out, I’ll do whatever we need to help her.” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “But we shouldn’t plan tonight, your brain needs a break from thinking.”
“You’re right.” he hesitates, “Can we cuddle?”
“What are we doing right now?” she eggs, while his face wedges into her chest making her giggle. Her eyes keep darting back over to the notebook on the dresser, “I wanna see your art, again, sometime, maybe, if you want.” Her voice is quiet, hesitant, but she’d been eyeing the notebook since he set it down.
“I could grab you my notebook.” Dan’s shoulders grow a little more tense, she cocks her head to the side, looking into his eyes.
“We don’t have to,” she assures, tracing along the side of his face, noticing little freckles, small spots of hyper-pigmentation.
“I want to, I-I actually just showed Kieran and she told me to show you.” Dan starts, his pulse starting to thrum. “I might have a whole journal of you and I didn’t want to show you because I kinda feel like a creep, but you’re my muse, you have been my muse…since well, you started working at the office. I’m sorry if this is weird, I should’ve told you sooner and-.”
“I wanna see.” Liani murmurs, his blue eyes were so soft, it seemed like a strong swirling tornado forming in there.
She could just look into them forever, the shade reminded her of deep in the ocean, he pulled away from her. Moving over to the dresser, he grabs his book, sitting on the other side of the bed, crossing his legs. Liani sits up across from him, while he hands her the sketch book, hands trembling. “It’s gonna be okay, as long as you didn’t make it some half women-half monster thing, I would be fine. Even if you did that, I would probably find it funny.”
Dan laughs softly, “I didn’t do that,” he glances up at her through his lashes, she gives him a little smile.
Liani opens the page, looking down with a confused furrow in her brows. It was little sketches of her eyes, her hair without a face, his favorite smile of hers (that was real), sometimes it was just her looking down at something, focusing. Even drawing a shirt that she recognized from her wardrobe, it was inherently sexual but like he just liked remembering her, any piece of her he could conjure when she wasn’t right there. Then it slowly began to transform from over the last year and a half that she’s worked at the office, turning into full concepts, all of her. Maybe she should’ve felt weird about it, but she didn’t. Not that she needed proof that he wanted her this whole time after he said something. But it was, plain and simple, right in front of her. She could even see the angle change from when Liani began to sit next to him.
Dan watches her expressions, but he can’t read what she feels and it’s probably because of his own anxiety. “God, I feel like I need more time, these are so good, Dan.” Liani gushes, her finger skimming along the long way of the notebook before picking at the edge, “I can’t believe these are me, but then I’m like yeah, that’s me…”
“Really?” he questions, “I mean, you can…have all the time, if you well um, want to.”
“It’s up to you, but I’d love to see all of your art, I wanna know, you’re so good-even if it was shit-which this isn’t.” she rambles, knowing how important this was to him, she didn’t want to mess this up-Liani wanted him to feel comfortable to share anything with her. He looks at her like he doesn’t quite believe her. She sets down the book off to the side of the bed, moving on her knees towards him. Dan reaches out for her waist, letting her fit perfectly in his arms, while she cups his cheeks. “You’re so talented, Dan-I don’t wanna pressure you but you should do commissions or-share your art. Because it is good enough,” she pets at his cheeks, his shoulders completely relax, along with the rest of his body. “It’s more than good enough.”
“You’re just saying that because you love me.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true, and I do love you.” she assures, “But you are-so much more than you give yourself credit for, Dan.”
He chews on the extra skin on his cheek, not looking into her eyes as tears well up in them. “I don’t know…”
“I do, do you trust me?” she redirects his head, and his blue eyes find hers.
“Yes.”
“Then you have to trust me when I say believe in yourself.” she coos, “Not right this second, I’m saying a whole lot of things…”
“You are.” he nods, searching her eyes with fear in his heart, but she leans to softly kiss his lips. Dan whispers again, “Okay.” She just looks at him for an extra moment, eyes focused on him.
“Now cuddle me, I demand!” Liani jokes, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him backwards so he’d fit over her body. Dan giggles, gently kissing her before splaying his hand along her back and pulling her into the middle of the mattress. He settles right between her thighs, nuzzling into the swell of her chest with his arms wrapped around her like she was a teddy bear he never wanted to let go. Burying his nose into her, smelling her perfume and her natural ‘Liani’ smell that made him feel at home.
“What should we watch?”
“I think Hot Rod.” he mutters against her breasts, she tries not to laugh.
“Great choice.” she humors, kissing his forehead, her fingers coming to play at the loose strands of his hair.
That next day, the three of them take awhile to get around but when they do, Liani sees there was an art festival a few towns over. Their plans with Dan’s parents were set for the afternoon, so they blew all day to blow before then.
Kieran seemed really excited to spend the day with them before she had to head back home. She felt a certain kind of freedom after being truthful with her brother, it wasn’t an easy feat to come out. Dan knew that, but something about her seemed lighter, she was more comfortable around Liani.
Dan takes them out for a late breakfast, before walking down to the festivals a couple streets over. It lined with decorations after Memorial Day, but it wasn’t overly celebrational, more like the only supplies they had. But their tents, a couple food trucks with food and drink, but it was mostly occupied by art exhibits for people to come visit. Main street was blocked off from traffic while the tents ranged from all different types of art styles, comic inspired, realism, expressionism, sketches, it went on. The street was rather busy with crowds of people with strollers, dogs, wagons and large bags. They even had photographs that Liani stopped by to admire and their favorite spot was the craft section.
Dan and Liani walk side by side, following after Kieran, the excitement pouring out of her, they could see it from the way she spoke about the art to the way she darted from each place to the next. Having to slow down so they could have a moment to take everything in.
Dan regretted not reaching out to her before this, it was clear that she needed someone in her life that wasn’t their parents. He always pictured himself being there, he tried to pick up facetime calls but sometimes she didn’t reach out. The whole reason why they were doing the art festival was because it was something Liani already had booked on the calendar. So that morning when she mentioned going, Kieran lit up at the idea.
They wound up at a certain booth that had stickers and fidgets, and Kieran picked up a fidget ring with a sphere crystal built into the middle. She also hovered above a pride sticker shaped into a little Koala. “You get those.” Liani nods, “We can get matching ones too, if you want.”
“Yes!” Kieran grins, nodding her head, “Which crystal should we do?”
“I like this amazonite and malachite…” she points to them, and Kieran pauses looking at the options.
Dan watched with a knowing smile on his face, hand coming to Liani’s lower back and rubbing in a swift circle. “Let’s do amazonite! And um, this?” she had the sticker in her hand, she swiped the moment Liani gestured to it.
“For whenever you’re ready to use it.” Liani encourages the woman at the booth stands to look at the items they collected.
Kieran looked at for an extra moment, admiring her, she was lit up when she slipped on the matching ring. “Wow, I got a ring on her finger before I could.” Dan sighs, and his sister blushes, glaring over at him.
“I wonder why yours would look like…” Liani trails, giving him a look, “Eventually, not right now.”
“I know what you mean,” he nods, while Kieran leads them forward to the next spot. “We have plenty of time.”
The morning made the rest of the day a little easier, going back into town, they met up with their parents. They were pretty cordial, not wanting to create any waves, Kieran only greets her mother. “Alright, are we ready for some family pictures?”
She proceeded to take a couple dozen pictures of the family and her eye was always drawn to Dan. He was just so cute with his family, she thought about his journal. About how easily they were each other’s muses.
“Let me try!” Kieran pleads, “You guys need a couple photos!”
“I don’t think that’s a bad idea.” Susan adds, smiling with an encouraging nod, while Dan moves to slip an arm around Liani’s waist. She hands the camera to Kieran, showing her a few buttons and how to use it.
Liani really preferred being behind the camera, sometimes she felt awkward in front of the lens, struggling to smile, tensing up. Dan hooks an arm around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek which makes her melt. Eyebrows relaxing, she grins like a fool in love, her arms circling his waist to pull him in closer. It made him break out into a flush, eyes widening with joy as Kieran takes a few snaps.
“Alright, some solo for you, Kieran” Liani nods, and she moves shyly in front of the camera. “Just to see.” She begins taking some snaps of her, helping with her with a few poses and helping her relax. “You look beautiful, just smile!” she blushes and does as Liani says.
After, when they finished up all the pictures, she was flicking through them on her camera, “I’ll get these edited for you guys.”
“I can’t wait to see them!” Kieran grins.
There’s a quiet goodbye, they threw out I love yous and Dan reminded her to call him if she needed anything. He didn’t want to start a conversation that would rarely end well, so he planned to call them separately. Try to get them to see from a different perspective, giving them time to ponder separately (hopefully).
The next couple days Dan takes time to process everything, he’s a bit more shut down, he wouldn’t just tell Liani what was on his mind. But she understood that he needed space, that sometimes there was nothing to say. He was stressed out about the future, what he would do without thought-is to make sure Kieran feels safe. A part of Dan wanted to steal her away so they couldn’t hurt her more-it wasn’t up to him though. But he wanted to be a healthy outlet for her, and be consistent. Liani kept her distance, but her birthday was coming along, Dan had progressively worked through his anxiety.
They’d been on the same loop at work, driving there, walking in together, having lunch together, and a break. Sometimes they spent it with other co-workers, or friends but a lot of times they just wanted it to be the two of them. Even if he didn’t talk much he said, “Talk, I like hearing your voice.” so she would, she would show him photos on her phone while eating, mulit-tasking.
Liani had stories for almost every picture and would go, “Um, well it’s a long story.”
“I wanna hear.”
If he wasn’t thinking about Liani, worrying about Kieran and dreading Mat as the month welled down. Sometimes he just wanted his brain to stop producing so many thoughts. But he also realizes he’s unintentionally pushing her away, aside from lingering stares and gentle fleeting kisses. She hasn’t said much, but he knows he’s being distant, he starts feeling awful, he comes up to her while she’s folding laundry.
“Can I hold you?” he questions, stepping in behind her, she turns her head to meet his eyes, before nodding. Dan’s arms wrap around her waist, pressing her back to his front with a heavy sigh. Dan’s head fit between her shoulder and neck, “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.”
“It’s okay, you’ve been trying.” She soothes her palms along his forearms, tilting her head to the side, “I understand.”
“When I don’t? I don’t know why I’m doing this, Liani. I love you and I’ve been ignoring you-.”
Her hand comes up to press along the side of his face, up to cradle the back of his skull, running her digits through the strands. His chest warm against her back, thighs pressed to hers, feet slotted together, he snuggles into Liani. “You haven’t been okay, and that’s alright, You are doing everything else, you make me 75 % of my meals, you bring me a glass of water for my meds. Dan, you might not feel here but I see you, and everything you are working through. It makes you so strong and I’m here.” Liani trails off in her dialogue, “I don’t want you to worry about me, right now.”
“I’m always gonna worry about you,” burying his face into the side of her neck, “but I hear you. I just wanna be around you. When you are right here, I don’t have to worry as much.” Dan admonishes, “I want what's best for you so if you need some time, I’ll give it to you too, I’ll probably still bug you sometimes.”
“I love when you bug me, I don’t need any space, right now.” she hums, turning her head to press a peck to Dan’s mouth.
That led to them growing closer once more, then one night she asked him, “Would you want to draw me?”
“Draw you?” Dan questions, thinking of yesterday when they were on a walk through the office. She had gotten overwhelmed, needed to step away, he went back to his cubicle and drew what he remembered. The strength in that moment, even though she was struggling, she knew her limits and advocated for herself. He draws her all the time. “I do?”
“I mean,” she sits up on her knees on the bed, tugging off her t-shirt to reveal her bare chest, he swallows deeply, “Naked, drawing.”
“Oh.” he pauses, while she shucks off her leggings and throws them off to the side.
“Only if you want.” she assures, leaning back on to her hands, his eyes moving down the length of her body with hungry intent. “We don’t have to.”
“I want to, I want to.” Dan sputters, clearing his throat, his eyebrow lifting as he said, “You’re just so beautiful.”
“How do you want me?”
“Uh-.” On top of him. “You can take off your panties and bra, and I’ll be right back.” he replied, scurrying out of the room to try and get away his boner. Dan knew how to go on when he was like this, blue balls had happened more than once. It only made their reunion even more intense and passionate. He went to get his notebook that was laying on the couch, a chair from the kitchen before going back to her.
When he entered the room he expected her naked, but there was nothing he could do to stop the way she made him feel. The opportunity to draw her so unfiltered, in her most natural element, so soft and all beautiful curves. He sets the chair down at the foot of the bed, moving to sit down with his thighs spread, readjusting himself in his pants. Liani watches him with her lip tucked between her teeth, “Can I play some music?”
“Yeah.” he hums, opening the sketch book and flipping to a blank page. He grabbed a couple pencils from his bag and set them down at the bottom of the bed. “Come put your head at the edge of the bed, put a pillow or two under your spine so there’s an arch.”
She listens to him, he helps adjust her, she liked the feeling of his hands handling her. Liani looks up at him while he begins to sketch at her, she tunes into the music, trying to do some type of meditation. It was hard to not get lost in her head but if she focused on the lyrics of the songs playing, it would help. She starts fidgeting, wriggling her shoulders back and forth and shuffling her legs around.
“Do you need a fidget?”
“Yes.” she murmurs, and he gets up and turns around to grab one from her dresser. It was a four tile keyboard fidget that made a clanky sound, she had one that was silent too. Dan hands it to her, his body curling over her front, her face way too close to his stomach. The impulse to reach out and lick him trickles in but she doesn’t give in, just skimming her hand down to the waistband of his sweatpants. Where there was already a tent in his pants, she bites her lip, her other hand gripping his hip and dragging him to her. “Let me.” her palm pets over his bulge and his breath stutters.
Dan nods, “Go ahead.” She tugs at the hem, pulling out his cock from an upside down angle, he bobs forward, veins swollen and tip smeared with his arousal. Liani had to push her thighs together to rid the ache that blossomed in her core. She grasps him at the base before dragging his fingers across the silky skin, then pressing the tip to the purse of her lips. Then she lets him go, hands running along his thick thighs, the muscle tenses under her touch. Liani begins to kiss along the underside of him, along his sensitive balls, tongue poking out to swipe along the base. Her palms graze over his ass, pulling him in tighter as he chuckles, “Yeah, baby?”
“Hmm.” she nods, grasping him at the base, before bringing him to lips, the precome rubbing against them before she takes him into her mouth. The warmth engulfing him in a surefire way that lit his nerves on fire, he tips his head back. She lightly pops off of him before sinking back down, feeling him throb against her tongue.
“Oh fuck, baby-” Dan sighs, wobbling a little on his feet as his feet, his hips buck forward, accidentally pressing him further into her mouth. She moans into him, her free hand, clasping on to the back of his thigh and pushing him in closer. He takes a shaky breath out while his eyes clamp shut beneath his lens, cheeks a deep red. She pumps his hard rod, bobbing her head with his movements, he is panting, while letting her tongue tease along the sensitive skin below his tip. Liani’s spit slicked down his erection, his hips jerking forward, when her hands cupped his balls.
She takes him out to take a breath, saliva coating his length while she rubs it back and forth. Then flattening her tongue along his tip, lapping before teasing along his slit, his hand comes down to pet at her head. Liani takes him back into his mouth, beginning to bob her head, strokes deliberate, yet messy and wanton. “You feel so good, Liani-.” he moans, stuttering forward while she hums, sucking harder, letting the tension in his belly thickening.
His thighs were trembling underneath her touch, stomach quivering and the hottest whimpers falling from his mouth. Dan’s palm gently guided her head while she slid against him, lulling her tongue and pressing harder. “I’m gonna-.” he gasps, tip pulsating, his balls swollen and heavy, tighten against his body. While his whole body shutters, his come spurting onto her tongue, she moans against him, swallowing every last drop of his essence.
Then she pulls off his softening cock, though he stays at half-mass due to her nudity, due to the fact he still had to draw her. “Okay,” she smiles, “I’m satiated, go draw.”
“Oh now you are, huh?” Dan humors, pulling his boxers and sweats up to cover himself while he tries to catch his breath. His hand leans down to swipe at the drop of saliva mixed with his arousal. He sits back on to the chair, grabbing his notebook, and beginning to draw her more intricately, honing in on the experience.
After he was done with a rough sketch, he knew that he needed a closer look to complete the drawing. So he decided to move over her, worship every inch of her body so he knew how to draw it just right. He kissed to memorize, llaved when he got to sweeter, wetter spots, making her body writhe and go-aflame. Then he sat back, drawing her after she melted into the bed like butter, lingering on spots, feeling so lucky he even gets to see her like this. It was romantic, it was vulnerable, he was all over her, not only physically, but with all of them, mentally mapping her body so he knew how to remember it later (not that it would be a hard feat). Something that made them feel more intimate together, closer, they wanted to know more.
The next week, their weekend with her mom came around, it was pretty uneventful for the most part, they all loved Dan. Deciding to drive down to her home state, Dan grew nervous on the way but not overwhelmingly so. From Liani’s perspective, her family was pretty normal, her parents were still together, she had two siblings, she was the middle child. She was an aunt, and she got away from her family because as normal as they are-still drove her crazy. They didn’t really understand the autism, not believing that she was even diagnosed with it. She shouldn’t feel shoved into the mask, but she was, she didn’t feel safe to be herself around them.
Dan noticed that she was a squeaky perfect version of herself that couldn’t afford to show a crack in her armor. There were snide comments, nudges, jokes about her diagnosis, now about her having a boyfriend. She just told him to ignore them, that she wouldn’t feed into the drama or gossip. Liani spoke her truth, then ignored the rest, it was one weekend, and there was a reason she only spent a short amount of time around them. Sometimes they made a fuss about it, but now that she had Dan-it was different. They liked him, even if they were crude at times, they made him and everyone feel included.
During the fireworks, she sat tucked across his lap, head in his neck while they both stared up at the sky. Both were adorned in earbuds so it wasn’t so loud, they didn’t need to talk, her hand was in the palm of his. His thumb working over the joint of hers, the pads of her fingers dragging across his palm, they fidgeted with each other’s skin. Taking in the sound of each other’s hearts, breath sinking because they were so close for so long. They were in love, sought deep comfort out of each other that was so immediate and special.
Her family never thought they would see her so relaxed-so at peace with herself. Maybe they realized that they were being a little harsh on her before, when she didn’t feed into it-there was empty space there instead. A moment for them to figure out why she didn’t reply, why even when they went for a gut, she rolled her eyes, and told them off. She was happy, not just with him, but with herself.
There was something warm between them on the way back from her parents, a closeness, a gratefulness for having each other around.
Then her birthday came around, Dan had a couple things planned for her, the two grew closer each day. He still hasn’t spoken to Mat after everything happened, but they were going to have to meet within the new week. Tonight he wasn’t going to worry about any of that, he was going to focus on Liani and make today about her. She has old friends that were coming up to visit for the special day, so he just needed to focus on supporting her.
Liani wanted to go to her favorite restaurant, Chilli’s, Dan sat next to her while she chatted up with her buddies. He watched her, remembering the night before, the two had spent all night making love. He woke up with her naked, a few bruises on her thighs, and that morning they didn’t do anything more than kiss, wrapped up in each other and the need to just feel each other closer. She was so sore after everything, he’d given her a massage after she got out of the bathroom after soaking in the bath and doing her self care.
He left kisses over her back, picking notes of vanilla from the scented oil he was using, hands kneading into the muscles of her back. Liani let out a shaky moan as the tip of his fingers dug into a knot. “Feel so good, Dan.” she whispered, while he thanked himself for wearing sweatpants over his boxers. His thumb skims over a mole, placing soft pecks up her scapula and along her neck. She clasps his hands over his shoulders, using the heel of his palm into her skin.
Then his Lemon Poppy Seed muffins were done, she didn’t know he was making him. So Liani put on her undergarments and threw on a robe to eat whatever he made. “It smells so good,” she comments, smiling as he comes over with a plate with a blue wrapper. “Now you bake?” she questions, cocking her head to the side.
“Yeah, well I used to be with my Gran,” he informs, giving him a bashful smile.
Liani turns to him, setting down the plate and hooking her arms around his neck. “I love learning new things about you.” she whispers, softly clicking their lips together, “Just so happens to one of my favorite baked goods.”
“I tried…It was an old recipe.” he said, while she let him go to take the plate to the table. Dan grabs his own, sitting across from her. She slowly peels the wrapper away, breaking off a piece, not crumbling too much but still warm from the oven.
Liani brings it up to her mouth, her eyes widened when she tastes the fluffy goodness, “This is good,” she moans, tilting her head back, “Now you have to make these everyday.”
“Yeah, that's good?” he chuckles, eyes roving over her to memorize this moment, her joy over something so simple.
“Is your grandma still alive?” she questions as he nods.
“Very much still alive, and kicking, very stubborn woman. But I adore her, she’s on my mom’s side so we spent a lot of time over there, growing up. She never liked my dad, so he wasn’t around her too much. When I got older and had a rougher relationship with my parents, I stayed over there.” Dan explained, throwing another piece into his mouth.
“Well, you’ll have to bring her some of these, she would be proud.” Liani noted, reaching out to knock her foot into his.
The rest of that morning he watched her get ready, it was like a thoughtful dance Liani knew well, music flowing through the bedroom. He was supposed to not be weird about it but he just wanted to lay on the bed and admire her from a short distance. They didn’t talk much because she was focused on what she was doing. It was a shared silence, the only sound being the music, Liani’s flowing with the artist’ voice, and the soft clank of her doing her makeup.
Now he just sat next to her, again, not talking much, sipping on a coke, listening in on conversations. So when the girls get up to go to the bar, Liani’s attention is redirected to her boyfriend. Taking his hands in hers, fidgeting with his fingers, “Maybe…you could invite someone to have a drink with? I don’t like you sitting here all alone.”
“I’m okay, and I’m not alone.”
Liani dips her chin to meet his eyes better, his blue eyes glimmer through his glasses, “You’re too quiet.” she worries.
“Maybe I could invite Mat, put the final nail in the coffin.” he shrugs, looking at her for support.
“I think closing a chapter is less morbid.” Liani counters, keeping his hand in hers while resting on her knee, “But you don’t have to, not today, at least.”
“I know,” he said, leaning in closer to kiss her.
But then one of her friends arrives at the table, “Aw, you two are so cute!”
Dan blushes, keeping his eyes on Liani, “It’s all her.” he brings her hand to his mouth to kiss over her knuckles.
He’s nervous to text Mat, the chances he was even available right now, were dim. Dan tried to assure himself that nothing bad would happen. But he didn’t want Liani to feel uncomfortable around him. What if Mat got mad and blew up? A part of him shuts down, it all suddenly felt like too much and he just wanted to be here with Liani. She watches him, realizing this wasn’t the right time, and that sometimes she pushes too much. It would help him move on, let go of the anger, and tension. She couldn’t truly imagine how it all felt, she’s never been in a situation like his. At the end of the day she needed to remember she just wanted to support whatever he believed was best for him.
She can feel how tense he is, so she brushes a hand against his back, leaning into his ear, “It’s all good, I’ll be ready to leave soon.”
“Are you sure?” he tilts his head to the side to better meet her gaze, to confirm she wasn’t doing this just for him.
“Yeah, it’s getting too loud.”
“I have spare earplugs-.” she giggles, not because she thought he was funny, but so endearing with his care.
“I know you do, I can’t talk through them super well, so I’d rather not, but thank you for being so thoughtful.” Liani compliments, there’s a bit of tequila on her breath from her margarita-but she only had one. She knew he had plans for the rest of the night, didn’t want to waste it and saw something akin to being railed in her future.
But if he was feeling up to it, she really didn’t need much but his presence. If she was with him, it was always enough.
The girls wound up drinking much more than Liani, so Dan drives them back to the hotel. Liani proceeds to lean over the middle console to rest her head on his shoulder. She pets at the side of his thigh, non-sexually, enjoying the feeling of his touch.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text Mat.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, I think sometimes I push too much and that’s not on you…I just wanted you to feel okay and didn’t know how to do that.” Liani admits, while he nods, looking over with sincerity and care in his heart, he understood where she was coming from.
“I just don’t think I wanna focus on that, right now. I don’t wanna get too stressed and I know Mat would do that.” Dan elaborates.
“I get that.” she kisses his shoulder before focusing on the song playing on the radio.
When they get to the apartment, Liani changes into one of Dan’s shirts, forgoing pants for comfort. Sometimes clothes, jewelry, is just too overstimulating, she used to be worried that he might not find that normal. That she could only wear those things for so long before having to shed them off. She was worried that he would over sexualize her because she didn’t like wearing pants. He still loved her, touched her, wrapped her in his arms, but nothing that he wouldn’t usually do, not fixating or thinking she wanted sex. Sometimes there was something hard between them, but he never made that her problem. He just told her not to worry about it.
“You really don’t mind when I just wear panties? Like you know it’s not me trying to rile you up or whatever-I get overstimulated so-.”
“I know…” Dan affirms, moving in closer, she finds her way into his arms, “You aren’t provoking me or anything, I’m just glad you’re comfortable around me. And of course you are beautiful, the moment you say you want something more I’m on it.” then he blushes, “I do look, and you know I get uh…”
“Hard?” she teases, “I’m okay with that, thank you for respecting that.”
“It’s really no problem.” Dan shrugs, nonchalant.
It made her feel even more comfortable with him, like if she didn’t want something, she had control over that. She developed early in life that things were the right way or Liani’s way, she didn’t understand the stupid methodical wall that didn’t make any sense. She had to relearn that nothing was just black or white. Growing up she learned that even having an opposing idea, was wrong. Now she walked around without an regard for how others thought about her. Though Dan’s eyes went to the sapphire blue lace that looked so delicate against her beautiful almond skin. The confidence in the way her hands land on her hips, “Okay, what’s the plan, handsome?” Liani asked, while he led her to the living room.
“We’re going to do some rearranging.” he starts, handing her black box with a few buttons and an inverted camera on it. “I got us a movie projector, I thought we could make a fort and watch it in there.”
“That’s so perfect.” she grins, leaning in to his side.
“Are you sure?”
“Hmm,” she nods, pecking his lips, slowly, like she meant the world to him and she was scared to crush it. “I want to bake some cookies too, my sweet tooth is going crazy.”
“Go for it, I’ll work on the fort.” he plans, his eyebrows raise, “What kind?”
“Nuh-uh.” she backs away, pointing at him, “That’s a surprise.” Liani declares, with a mischievous smile.
Dan chuckles, a twinkle in his eyes, “Okay, okay.”
There’s an open view from the kitchen to the living room, so Liani was able to watch him while he organized everything. Dan started off with making more space in the middle, then he grabbed a couple chairs from the kitchen. It became a little more entrancing the longer he worked, his arms straining but he made no physical sound of struggling. He uses a chair to pin a sheet to the wall, he was very focused on what he was doing. She made his favorite, Peanut Butter Blossoms with a Snicker in the middle. He notices the aroma once they cook in the oven for a little while.
“When does your shirt come off?” Liani asked, “Like during the work out? Now or…”
“I wasn’t planning on taking my shirt off yet.” Dan chuckles, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m almost done.”
“Can’t wait.”
Once the cookies were done, the fort was constructed, she heard a fan muffled by the sheets strung along the walls. Dan has to hunch over to move about as he slowly exits the small slit that they would have to go in and out of.
“Baby, cookies are ready and still hot !” she announces, then he comes back into view, this time he did have his t-shirt off. Dan also had some sweat along his brow, the subtle waft of cologne and sweat fills her senses, and it’s all him.
He comes up behind her, “My favorite.” he mutters, circling his arms around her waist and tickling her neck with the tip of his nose. “My favorite cookies too.” he husks into the shell of her ear. She grabs a cookie for him, holding the bottom before bringing it up to his mouth. One of his hands comes out to catch crumbs, he moans, moving off to the side as she faces him.
“How’s the fort coming?” she replies, he chews the cookie in his mouth, “It looks good.” Now that she has the view of his naked torso, she takes him in. He tries not to flush under her stare, she admires his strong shoulders and pecs, the hair collected at the bottom of his stomach that led into his sweatpants. He’d been going to the gym more often so he was able to easily pick her up and down (he could before but he wanted it to be even safer). Dan was still soft, but he was filled out, strong. It was fair to say they both oogled each other.
“Well, I think it’s done, I was trying to make the ground more comfortable.” Dan said, wiping his mouth with the side of his thumb. “C’mon.” he nods, his hand reaching out for her, she grabs his arm, following him into the living room.
He holds open the curtain for her to get inside of the fort, they get tucked inside, cozy and warm. The main walls made out of thin sheets, Dan made the floor with blankets and pillows rest along the sides with a few animals filling empty gaps. He works on connecting the projector to his phone, he was still shirtless. So she leant back against a pillow, watching him, wanting to trace all the freckles on his back. It flexes as he moves, adjusting it on the ground, a part of her wanted to lick the slope of his spine.
Then he leans back to lay next to her, stretching out his arm for Liani to curl up in his side as she enjoyed doing, she fits right into his arms. Carefully laying her head on his shoulder while he turned his head to kiss the side of hers. Whenever she struggled in life, this moment right here, when she was in the warmth of his embrace-made up for everything. Not that she wasn’t enjoying her day, this just topped it all. Normally, she probably would’ve gone out with friends or no-one. After she moved here last year, she spent her birthday alone in her apartment, working on one of those miniature doll-houses that had a million and one parts. It was fun, but it wasn’t this.
They didn’t say much during the first movie, she had a fidget in her hand, she struggled to stay still as usual, but liked to snuggle deeper into Dan. After the movie finished they both got out to stretch, go potty and grab some more cookies. Before they get back into the tent, he catches her by the waist, pulling her in by the side as she smiles brightly at him. He ducks his head down to kiss her cheek, trailing them along the side of her throat. Liani pivots her head towards him, catching him in a soft lingering kiss, she melts into him.
Dan felt like he needed to bring up Mat, not because he wanted to but because it wells up. Or rather his anxiety, he had to work a long time not to blurt things out at inappropriate times. Though he knew that Liani wouldn’t care, that she understood his anxiety, but he didn’t want to make this day about him. When he got back into the tent, he wouldn’t think about it until tomorrow. It wasn’t only about Liani’s experience, it was about enjoying the time he got to spend with her alone. He wasn’t letting Mat ruin that again.
“Ready for a second movie?” Liani asked, pressing a lingering kiss on to his cheek, his cheeks grow rosey, there’s a twitch of his lips, making them quirk up at the sides.
This time it’s different from the last, Liani growing progressively more fidgety in his arms. Her hand trailing along his chest, soothing down his stomach, the little marks that mar his skin but not going any further. Dan’s breathing becomes heavier, he doesn’t know if it’s on purpose or not, “Do you want a fidget?”
“You don’t like it?” she retorts, moving her palm away from him.
“I-I do.” he breathes, “I was just making sure.”
Liani rolls on to her side, completely, hand skimming up the curve of his shoulder while her other comes to the side of his face, “Always taking care of me.” she murmurs, letting a kiss fall to his cheek, along the stubble on his jaw. “I love you so much.” their lips gently connecting while Dan hums into her.
“Love you so much more.” he whispers, tipping her back on to her back, he slots perfectly between her legs. When their mouths meet, Liani’s hand wanders up his sides, feeling his soft torso underneath her hands. While laying down he was more flatter, but now he was all natural, moving over her and making her feel like she was the center of the universe by just connecting with his blue eyes, looking specifically sky blue in this moment. He shivers at her touch, but kisses her harder, deeper with a flick of his tongue.
The strong width of his shoulders, covering up the movie-but she could care less. A moan slips from her lips, he swallows the sound, grinding his front into hers. Mouth growing increasingly wet, desperate, Liani grasps at the back of his hair, trying to take dominance with her tongue. Dan knows what she’s doing, his dimples indenting as he tries not to smile when she surrenders and stops fighting his tongue. He feels her melt underneath him, legs hooking around his waist, hips lifting up to meet the intentional flex of his that crushes his erection to her warm center.
“Fuck, baby.” Liani pants, throwing her head back on the pillow underneath, Dan’s eyes scans her face before dipping down to kiss along the column of her throat. Her fingers ruffled through his messy golden brown hair.
“Let me make you come.” he husks against her ear, hot air cascading over her neck. She leans up to strip her shirt off, throwing it towards the exit to the right. Then she lays back, breasts on full display, clad in only lace perfectly stretched across his hips.
“You’re so perfect, can I take your hair out?” Dan gestures to the knot on the top of her head, wanting even more for her. He nods, her hands come up to tug the pink scrunchie out of her hair. It falls around her head, adding to the effect, “Just angelic.”
He shakes his head, tracing every inch of her body with his eyes, beginning to follow his gaze with his lips. Dan sealed the adoration, the inconceivable love that he felt towards Liani, he memorized every molecule with soft kisses. Along with swipes and nips along her body, he makes his way south, Dan feels her grind against him, unbearably eager for his touch.
“Please, Dan.” she begs, he groans into her lower stomach, spreading her thighs further, he pecks at the insides of her legs. Moist, teasingly then a delicate press of his pursed lips against her covered clit.
Even with the feeling of her wetness against his chin he asked, “You need me?” he coaxes.
“So badly.”
“I’ll give the birthday girl what she wants.” he rasps, his waist fit between her thighs, he curls two fingers on each side of her panties before stripping them off her legs.
Liani’s drenched, sparkling with wetness, there was a bead of arousal seeping out of her folds, he had no control. Dan swipes his tongue against her folds before taking a fatter, more impassioned lick where he moans, gutturally. He tests the waters like he didn’t know how to make her fall apart without even trying, his lips wrapping around her clit, circling his tongue against the bundle of sensitive nerves.
“Aw-I, Dan.” she whines, tugging on the strands of his hair, the sensation only fueling him. Then dragging the wet muscle in his mouth down to her vulva, prodding against the threshold to feel her walls fluttering against him. Liani goes to buck into his face, he wraps an arm around her thighs, grasping on to her ass to control her movements.
Her back arches while his fingers tease at her entrance, yet to grant her the relief of being filled with him. Dan’s mouth now focused on devouring her clit til a sweat breaks out across her brow. A deep sound reverberates through his chest, making her cry out, especially as he decides to officially add two fingers to the mix. It isn’t about fucking her open, it’s about the process, massaging the pads of his fingers against her spongy walls. The way he handled her with so much effortless desire, intrigue that went deeper than just getting her off. He wanted to love her so hard that it wedged so deep into her heart it wouldn’t be able to leave.
Dan devours her, he’s not fast, he wants to wind her up-feeling her pulsate around his fingers, “I’m so close-.” he pulls away, trying to catch his breath while his tongue peaks out to wipe away the arousal on his upper lip. He had a lopsided smile while his hand slipped away, “What are-.”
“Have you heard of edging?” Dan starts, while his heart races, “I’ve never done it but I think it would be fun, it would feel really good.”
“You haven’t done it but know how it feels?” she jokes while pink blotches his cheeks, her hand trails along his shoulder.
“I meant…not with anyone else.” Dan trails, biting his lips, nervously.
She smiles, “So all by yourself?” Liani slowly sits up as she notices how anxious he was becoming, “What’s it like?”
Dan glances at her shyly, “It’s like getting wound up over and over again, not quite getting that release, until you do and it’s like really good.”
“You wanna do that to me?” she whispers, hovering in closer, he nods shyly, “That’s so hot, Dan, god I wish I could watch you do it.” she pecks the side of mouth, teasing more down the side of his throat.
He moves forward as she cups his face in her hands, kissing him, invigorating, his lips falling apart on a groan. Their mouths come together, moving with fervor and heat, Liani’s arm hooks around his shoulders, pulling him down on her completely.
Dan finds himself level with her core that was soaking, he shakes his head in disbelief before darting to lick it all up. Liani was so sensitive, it wouldn’t take long to get her to that peak again. His tongue llaving through the seam of pussy, before focusing on tasting her arousal. Her thighs tensing around his head, it just makes him go deeper. The wet muscle presses past her entrance, massaging her walls, nose rubbing into her clit. The airy moans coming out of her were becoming uncontrollable, not excessive but overwhelmingly sexy to him. He pulls away, a loud whimper exiting her mouth as she tried to breath, she sags against the blanket beneath her. He kisses her thigh before moving up her body, molding his hands to her chest, nipples hard from her desire while he pecks over the tops of them.
“One more, then I’ll give you what you want.” he husks, taking the pert bud in his mouth, she sighs shakily, lazily petting at his hair.
“Need more, please Dan.” Liani pleads, how quickly the tables have turned with her whining for him like she couldn’t get enough (when she was teasing him not too long ago, she knew it drew him crazy). He spreads her leg, fingers swiping through her folds than easily inserting two fingers into her wet hole.
Dan grumbles, hotly, “So eager.”
“Oh my god.” she moans, the tension swelling quickly, even without pressure on her clit, she was so close. He doesn’t even try to find Liani’s g-spot, he just does. He licks at her chest, teasing nips and kisses, before swirling his tongue around her hard nipples, making them wet and darkly flushed. One of his hands cups her waist, gliding up and down before coming back to knead at her bosom.
When she clasps his hair hard he stops his movements, moving away far too fast, “What do you want, baby? My mouth? My fingers? Get to come however you want, be such a good girl.” Dan rambles, all of it comes out so naturally and it makes her wetter, his own brain fog making him brave.
“Need your cock, please, I’m gonna come so fast.” she admits.
“I’m gonna keep going if you do, if it’s too much I’ll stop, say something.”
“I will.” Liani nods, hand coming to the waist of his joggers, and eyeing the impressive bulge denting the cotton, then she pulls them down.
He looks down at her with disbelief, lips separate, blue eyes wide and dilated through his smudged glasses. Dan’s cock swollen, pulsating with lust, her legs curl around his waist and press him on her. Precome seeping from the tip, mixing with the flood of wetness spreading to outer labia (it was from stringing her along so many times). His own desperation takes over to have him pushing into her. Liani’s tears dribble down her cheek at fullness, her palms gliding along his upper back to hold on to him. Dan collides their mouths together, tongue tangling as he lets her adjust for a moment. His arms frame her face, he leans down to capture her lips in another softer kiss.
“I love you.” Dan sighs, pecking along her cheek, and nuzzling his nose into her jaw. “So fucking much.”
Liani presses her forehead to his, breathing unsteadily before nodding her head, “Make love to me,” their lips smash together in small smacks, he starts thrusting slowly, relishing the pleasure. The way her pussy spasms around him the more she engulfs him, he licks into her mouth, soothing his fingers against her cheeks. “I love you-god-Oh, I’m gonna-.” she cries, as he rocks a bit harder, grounding his hips against her clit. Her fingers thread into his locks, she ruts up as his cock plunges deeper.
Liani’s first high bursts through her like a firework, a loud guttural moan echoed in the small fort. Arousal practically gushes along his length, his breath trembles at the feeling, “Oh my god,” she cries, gently, dipping her head back. “So good.”
“You feel so good,” he sighs, he keeps rutting into her with need, hands petting at her face and pushing back her hair.
“Can you um…I need a second,” Dan pauses his thrusts, “Can you pull out for just a second.” he nods, searching her face for any discomfort. But she didn’t seem uncomfortable, he could feel her pulsating around as he slowly eases his length away. She was mellowed out, with a haze in her eyes, Dan’s cock aches as he pulls out, soaked in her essence. He assumes a bit of karma and overstimulation.
“Do you want me to get off of you?”
“No, stay.” Liani murmurs, reaching out to hook her arm around his shoulders, he nudges his nose with hers, with another hand finds hers, interlocking their fingers and pressing them beside her head. “It suddenly got so overwhelming, but I loved it.”
“Yeah? Thank you for telling me.” he said, pecking her lips and she pressed back. Dan settles over her body, pushing back wispy hair against her face with his fingers.
“Just-just look at me.”
Dan’s nose scrunches a little with his smile, eyes slowly tracing her features, Liani reaches up to pet his cheeks. Trying to imprint the wrinkles on his face in her mind, along with the freckles speckled faintly (unless he was in the sun). She got distracted by the cute tip of his nose, the smile lines creasing under the apples of his cheeks. Because Dan couldn’t help but grin because she’s so beautiful and she looked at him the way he looks at her. His eyes were calm, the subtle crows feet relaxed, she still tried to soothe it away with her thumb. He ignored the throbbing member that laid against her thigh, so enraptured in each other, looking so shadowed because of the low lighting. The only light being from the projector that was now, crooked, long forgotten in the kicked away blankets. She tangles her fingers into his hair, kissing him with gentle intention. Her other hand coming down between them to feel his cock, Dan’s so sensitive, moaning as his eyes clench shut.
“Mm, fuck.” he sighs, while she leads him back to her wet cunt. Dan pushes his hips forward to fill her once again, the pause this time was for him to collect himself.
He carefully places lingering kisses on her lips, then he starts grinding forward, a long moan leaves her. It was still too much, but now in the best way, that made her relax and give up everything to Dan. Fingers dancing up his throat, along his shoulders, before clasping on to his hair once again, completely ruined by her hands, pressing his forehead to hers, noses brushing. He moves with more need, stretching perfectly and inducing a pure pleasure. His warm body flush against hers, covering her perfectly, pulling back only to sink back inside, bumping all the right places.
Dan didn’t know how to start the conversation but the silence spoke volumes though them. He picked at the label of his beer, knee jumping while he tried to articulate, he just wanted to get this over with.
Mat didn’t wait, “How are you and Liani?”
“We’re good, yeah.” he nods, not knowing where to start he just starts talking, “My parents showed up out of nowhere at the beginning of the month…”
“You know that was a low blow on my part, I know they are,” Mat sighs, nodding his head, staring down at his bottle.
“Yeah, I mean Liani did really good with them even though they seem to want everyone around them to be uncomfortable.” Dan complains, “I think I’m gonna move in with her, she brought it and I don’t know I’ve been thinking about it alot.”
“Yeah, that’s good, and I’ll be fine, I think I’ll get my own place at the end of the month,” Mat states. “She makes you really happy.”
“She really does.” he said, dreamily, a small smile on his face when he thinks about her.
“God man you had a crush on her for a long time” Mat teases, nudging Dan with his elbow, “You two…” he raises his bottle towards him, “Are gonna last and that’s something special.”
Dan gives him a grateful look, they bump the neck of their bottles together, some alluding to silence while they both process what happened. “Thanks uh,” he trails, “I’d like to uh keep a distance between us, I care about you but I have Liani now and I gotta focus on Kieran too, she might really need my help and I can’t be worried about you.”
“No yeah, I understand.” Mat agrees, “You deserve to spread your wings, move on…” he nods, sipping his beer, “I’m sorry about everything, I can’t forget the past but I’m gonna try.”
“That’s good, yeah.” he said, monotone.
They didn’t say much more, there wasn’t a whole lot to be said. Dan felt a huge weight off of his shoulders, he felt like he could properly move on.
Two Years Later…
Dan got home to see Liani at the kitchen table, working on editing a few pictures from her recent shoot. Her business was picking up, she had left their collective job, and he was proud of her. She calculated that if she said yes to a few more shoots, she would be able to make more than she does now. So she started just focusing on her photography, they started saving some money on the side in case anything happens. Liani also had more down time to herself, when she could recuperate, decompress and process. They were making a lot of plans for the future, he was finally promoted at the company, getting his own office and everything. Last winter they had moved into a small house that they were renting, Kieran was planning on moving into the basement when she turned eighteen.
“Hey,” he greets, gently closing the door, he walks over to her, dipping his head into her neck. “How are you, baby?” his warm hook around her waist, and she presses back into his chest.
“I’m tired, I had four shoots today, back to back. They want to have these for a baby shower that’s tomorrow.” she rants, palms skimming over his forearms as she stands, turning around in his embrace. Liani wraps her arms around his neck, looking into his eyes, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Dan sighs, pecking her lips before snuggling his face into her throat, dragging her nose along his pulse point. “I have a question for you.”
“What’s that?” she questions, raising an eyebrow.
Dan gets down on one knee, keeping her hand in his, gazing into her eyes with his big blue ones. He takes out a box from his back pocket, opening it up and she gasps when she sees the pea sized diamond on a thin band and small diamonds encrusted in the gold. “Will you marry me, Liani?”
Her mouth is agape as tears run down her face, “Yes! Yes!” she cries, jumping out to hug him and he stands up to hold her close.
Mousey runs over to the two of them, rubbing up against Dan’s leg like he was patting him on the back. Dan kisses Liani, arms slipping against her back, pulling her in close and he grasps her hand. Slipping the ring on her finger as she brings her hand up to wipe away the tears, and he smiles. He tries to help dry up the tears, palms coming up to caress her face, before their lips meet.
end note: okay so i added more to this because i just don’t wanna do more for this story rn lol so i put some more in this chapter and i loved writing for dan sm, he’s basically bob r with glasses kinda in a way…another proposal? YUP, lazy ending but i wanted to move on, thank you for reading!!
