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almadelsur · 7 months ago

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💋 The Turmoil One Suffers

summary: In the second installment of The Secrets One Keeps, a relaxing day on the pogue proves to be anything but, with your inner struggles getting the better of you and JJ hot on your tail.

jj maybank x reader, rafe cameron x reader

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, talks of suffocation ig? plz let me know if I've missed anything.

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering I first wrote this like 3 years ago. Also, for those asking, I won't be doing a taglist for this fic bc I'm lazy and technologically deficient.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

You shouldn’t have been smoking, it made you feel uneasy, paranoid even.

You had found yourself on the pogue in the wake of Pope’s incessant bitching about how you had to make up for ditching them last night. The guilt had made you cave in. As he spoke, all that had flashed through your head was images of Rafe. You on top of Rafe, Rafe with his hands around your neck, the way Rafe’s hair felt between your fingers as you gripped on it when he got messy between your-

“Dude” Sarah’s voice snapped you out of your recurring thoughts.

You turned your head to her as you took a drag of the blunt JJ had rolled, "hmm?"

“I asked if you wanted a beer?”

You checked the time on your phone, 12pm. After enduring 3 hours on this floating nightmare, you decide you're probably deserving of one.

“uh yeah sure.” You took another hit, extending your arm to grab the cold bottle.

You bought the edge of the glass bottle up to your lips and took a swig, letting the liquid wash over your cotton mouth. A swig swiftly turning into a gulp as thirst suddenly became itself known to you. One gulp then turned to two and before you knew it the bottle dried out.

JJ eyed your every move, the feeling that had been bugging him since you got into the Twinkie that morning had now grown into full-blown concern. Your unusual behaviour was deafening with the sounds of alarm bells.

“Thirsty?” He spoke with furrowed brows, prompting Pope to chuckle though no joke had been intended.

Your eyes flickered towards JJ momentarily and instantly you knew what he was thinking. Anger disguised as adrenaline coursed through you.

“Sarah will you pass me another? Mines empty.” Defiance clear in your tone, causing a thick tension to settle over the boat.

“'s a bit it early to start chugging drinks isn’t it?” JJ speaks up again before Sarah has time to respond.

You scoffed as you turned to him once more, maintaining eye contact as you took a long drag from blunt. As you exhaled the smoke, the thick white cloud blurred his features.

“Sarah” you tried again.

You hear a small sigh as she hands you another bottle.

“Thank you” You took another swig at the bottle, hoping the liquid would force down the concoction of guilt and anger that swirled in your mouth.

“So like am I saying words out loud or is it just in my head?” JJ tried, at this point he just wanted a reaction out of you.

“You asked me to come here.” Your tone was snippy, as another burst of smoke entered your system.

“well my mistake clearly.” He was getting pissed off now, and you couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction it gave you. You knew it was unfair, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you just couldn’t help it.

Pope cleared his throat. “This is a whole lotta tension for such a little boat.” He tried to lighten the mood but his joke fell flat.

As you downed your second beer, you took another drag. “It is isn’t it?” You turned to him.

“Maybe you should have some of this JJ, it’ll help you relax.” You threw the blunt in his direction, letting it fall at his feet.

“What the hell crawled up your ass today?” JJ spat at you, picking up the blunt.

The mixture of alcohol and weed infected your system, your breathing became staggered as you suddenly became hyper aware of the layers clinging onto your body.

You don't answer. Instead choosing to stand up and remove your T-shirt. Rafe returned to your mind as you focused on the image of him mimicking your same actions. Your trousers were next to go. You pushed them down whilst picturing Rafe’s hands running down your legs.

Pope eyed Sarah and JJ who’s gaze were trained on you and your movements.

“Whatcha doing there bud?” Sarah asked watching you strip down to your underwear.

“I’m too hot” was all you said, stepping off the edge of the boat and letting yourself plunge into the cool water below you.

As you became completely submerged, you breathed out all of the air in your irritated lungs. Leaving you empty and heavy as you continued to sink. The muffled noises of the water hit against your head yet all you could hear was your thoughts racing.

As the need for air increased, the rush of thought slowed. You liked it. The weightlessness of your body, mixed with the numbing of all of your senses was peacefull. A welcome change from the overdrive your body had been running on for the past year.

You forced yourself to stay down there, pushing your physical boundaries. A split second before completely losing consiousness you emerged again, letting the air penetrate through your system and invade your insides as it worked to reboot your muscles before giving life again to the internal mayhem in your mind again.

You floated with your head above the surface and your back facing the pogues. You couldn’t find yourself to act remotely interested in what they thought about your little show.

JJ in turn felt as though he was slowly loosing his head. He felt dumbfounded because it wasn’t just your behaviour that was different, your entire demeanour and vibe was off and he failed to comprehend what could have happened in the span of 12 hours for you to return to him a complete different person.

Sarah could see the way he looked at you, he was hot on your tail and she panicked trying to divert his calculating eyes from you. “So” she spoke up loud enough so that you could hear and be part of the conversation should you wish to. “Theres a party at my house tonight.”

“Oh really?” JJ answered, evidently uninterested as he continued his stare down with the back of your head.

“Yeah Ward’s out of town with Rose and y'know Rafe, any opportunity he has to get shitfaced he’ll take it.” Relief washed over her as JJ’s eyes finally unglued from you.

At the mention of Rafe your ears perked up.

“Do you guys wanna come?” A devilish grin on her face evident as she spoke.

“A kook party? We wouldn't be welcome.” Pope answered for the three of you, prompting a scoff from Sarah.

“It’s my house too, plus I already threatened Rafe to let me invite you guys. I told him I’d snitch on him otherwise.” She shrugged.

“I’m sure he loved that” JJ added, amused at the thought of antagonising the Cameron boy.

“Well what did he say?” Three pairs of eyes turned to you as you finally spoke up from the water, now facing the boat again.

JJ couldnt help the face that your question caused him to pull. Why did you suddenly care about what Rafe Cameron had to say? Sarah already said they could go so why did it even matter?

“He said whatever as long we stay away from him.” Her answer caused Pope and JJ to roll their eyes. It had been somewhat of a lie though.

Because what Rafe had really said when Sarah had threatened him was, “whatever just stay away from us, and why don't you go ahead and bring that sexy little friend of yours.”

To which Sarah had replied with, “We wouldn’t want to hang out with you and your classist friends anyway. Also, Kiara’s with JJ, and Y/N wouldn’t even touch you with a 10 foot pole so.” Unkowing of the situation between you and Rafe.

Looking back at it now, Rafe’s coy response of “we’ll see” suddenly made much more sense to her as she shuddered slightly in disgust.

“Can’t we take a night off? I mean don’t you guys think we’ve been going a little extra hard recently?” Pope tried to reason as you swam back up towards the boat, forcing yourself on board again.

“I’ll be there.” You interjected as the water ran down your body, soaking the deck of the hms.

“we all will be.” JJ fired back, a confusing swirl of concern and anger towards your attitude fought for dominance within his head.

You ignored him once more and lay back on the sodden deck, letting your persistant introspection rest as the blanket that was intoxication comforted you. You looked up at the clouds and the weighlessness returned. Before you knew it, he sounds of Pope and Sarah chatting drifted away with the soft waves that carried the boat. You lost grip on consciousness as the sun lulled you to sleep.

Around half an hour went by before JJ spoke up. “hey" he double checked you were definitely asleep.

He took your silence as confirmation before turning to the other two. “Y'all saw that right?”

“Saw what?” Sarah played dumb even though he she knew exactly what he was referring to.

“the way she was acting” He whisper shouted, confused as to why no one else seemed remotely worried. “It was like she hated us.” He spoke with the tone of a wounded man.

“Yeah… us.” Pope muttered under his breath.

“I think she’s just tired J, she uh- she had a long night.” Sarah stiffled what had been something between a laugh and a groan.

“Nah guys look- I know her, that wasn’t normal.” JJ didn’t ease up.

“We all know her.” Pope jumped on the defensive.

“c’mon dude it’s not just me, somethings obviously wrong”

At this point Sarah wished for anything to distract him, because as much as JJ wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to academic performance, he most certainly wasn’t dumb. And he definitely knew what he was talking about when it came to you.

“Maybe It’s.. you know..” Pope waggled his eyebrows. “Her time…” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck “of- of the month?”

“Nice Pope.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“’s not that. Guys look listen to me somethings definitely wr-“ the ringing of his phone interrupted JJ mid sentence. Saved by the bell. Literally.

JJ grabbed his phone and his frown eased up slightly as he looked at the caller ID.

“Hey baby” his tone made it seem like whatever he had been worrying about softened it’s grip on him at the sound of her voice. “Uh huh, okay give us ten and we’ll be there.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Kie?” Sarah asked, praying he wouldn’t resume his ramble.

“Yeah she’s finished up at the wreck, wants us to go get her.” And with that the subject was dropped.

—————————————————————————

The late afternoon breeze stroked you awake as you suddenly became aware of the voices around you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you stirred where you lay, your body stiff from the 4 hour positioning against the hard wood of the hms. You slowly sat yourself up and threw your T-shirt back on your body before turning back to glance at the now complete group of pogues. Fuck how long had you been out for.

You let your eyes linger on Kiara and JJ a couple of seconds longer than everybody else. He laughed carelessly pulling her tighter against his side. You groaned out quietly and reached for your phone, typing out that damned name.

To Rafe: Having a party and you didn’t invite me? I’m almost offended.

Almost instantly a reply came through.

Miss me already?

You rolled your eyes as he sent you another.

Figured Sarah would open her big mouth, better see you tonight ;)

“Morning Camper.” John B spoke up. You turned around to face him, every single one of them with their attention on you.

“Hey can you take me home?” You directed at no one in particular.

“You don’t wanna stay and hang out?” Kie asked, she wanted to reach you, connect with you.

“I just want to go home” You were irritated and your head hurt, you were certainly in no mood for any of this.

John B was next to try “C’mon man we haven’t all hung out like this in ag-“

“Fuck just take me home” You lashed out. “please” You added in an attempt to soften the blow.

Silence fell over the pogues as John B lifted himself up and steered the boat towards the direction of your house.

As you hopped down you muttered a joyless goodbye to everyone.

“Wait! I’ll walk you in.” JJ peeled himself away from Kiara and followed behind you, slightly speeding as you hadn’t bothered to stop and wait.

He walked beside you, waiting until you were both out of hearing distance from the others.

“why are you angry?” He spoke up.

“I’m not angry.” You tried to walk faster but a calloused hand stopped you.

“Stop. Just stop.” You heard the desperation in his voice as he turned you around to face him. “can you just talk to me? Look whatever I did to piss you off I’m sorry. You just- you were fine yesterday and now all of a sudden you hate us-“

“Stop JJ” You just wanted it to stop. The consequence of your actions pounding down on you with every word that left his mouth.

“Stop what?!” He couldn’t help but shake you.

“Talking! Stop talking!” You shoved him forcefully off of you.

“The hell's wrong with you?! dude I’m worried about you. Today’s just been so weird.” His fingers shoved themselves through his hair, a nervous habit of his.

The familiar lump in your throat began to form at the sight of your best friend.

“I’m tired J.” It wasn’t a lie, you really were fucking exhausted. You were tired of lying, tired of watching the boy you loved love someone else, tired of trudging through your life heartbroken.

“You’re lying.” He shook his head like a disappointed parent. “Why you lyin' to me?”

“JJ. I’m. Tired.” You screwed your eyes shut as your breathing began to quicken “I’m not lying I’m just-“

“Okay alright.” His embrace cut you off. “I believe you.” He hated seeing you upset. Having known you practically his whole life, he also knew that nothing ever got resolved when you got like this, so he dropped the subject.

You almost broke down then and there, using everything you had in you to move your arms around him, hugging him back.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the meaning behind your words far greater than he could realise.

“Hey it’s okay, we all have off days right?” He let go of you and gave you a small smile.

“Right.” Your remained court and quiet.

“I’ll see you tonight. Go rest for a bit okay?”

You nodded and began to walk away before his voice stopped you once more.

“Yo” You turned to see that he had shoved his hands in pockets. “You’d tell me if something was wrong right?” He hated that he even had to ask.

“Mhm, course” You lied straight through your teeth before turning and walking away from him uninterrupted. You knew that as soon and as your bedroom door closed behind you, you’d sink down into a pit of despair and loathing.

Whilst the resolution had given him a little comfort, something deep inside told him that this wasn’t the end of it.

Perhaps he should have left things alone, maybe then things wouldn’t have escalated to extent that they were about to.

So as he watched you walk away, JJ stood there unknowing of what was to come. Unknowing of the way things were about to change between you forever.

#jj maybank #rafe cameron #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader x jj #outer banks #obx #jj maybank angst #bsf!jj maybank

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wonderjanga · 8 months ago

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Father’s Day

@autistic-human’s post and @moonlightcycle571’s comment on said post were the inspiration for this one. I love dad Marvel soooooo much, cause I think Billy would try his best to be a good adult figure without even realizing it can come off as parental. He’d just be doing what he would’ve wanted someone to do for him, which was be there for whichever kid no matter what. So what happens when a bunch of angsty teens with trauma meet him? He’s obviously going to try his best to be there for them!

Like Kon, when he first met Marvel, he didn’t really know what to think of the man. He was nice. Almost overwhelmingly so. He also helps Kon with anything if he ever needs help. He’s also almost always around and is willing to talk about virtually anything with Kon too. And this isn’t just exclusive to him, but to everyone. (It makes him feel slightly queasy sometimes. He hasn’t realized what he’s feeling is jealousy whenever his parental figure’s attention is on another kid.) So that’s why when Father’s Day came around and M’gann suggested they all do something for Marvel, he was a little dumbfounded. One, because he just came to the realization that he thinks of Marvel as a kinda dad, and two, because what were they going to do? Marvel isn’t actually their dad, so what if the Captain finds it weird? Kon really doesn’t want to think about Cap finding all of this weird.

The YJ eventually decided to just get Cap a gift. They were all pretty sure that’s what you were supposed to give fathers. Now the question is: what to give him?

Marvel: *goes to Mount Justice to check in on the kids*

YJ: *All in the kitchen fighting about how to frost the cookies cause they all did it differently*

Marvel: *hears them and comes to the kitchen*

YJ: *doesn’t notice him*

Kon: *Does notice and picks up his batch of cookies and goes to Marvel* “Cap.” *presents cookies to Billy*

Marvel: “Huh?” *stares at cookies. Kon’s cookies are a bunch of mishapen blobs with smiley faces* “Are these for me?”

Kon: *nods head* “They’re you.”

Marvel: *takes a cookie with one of the biggest smiles Kon has ever seen on the man’s face* “This is amazing… thanks Kon!” *bites cookie* “They’re really good too!”

Kon: “Really?” *eyes shining at the praise*

Marvel: “Yeah!” *finishes cookie and is about to grab another one*

Other YJ members: *now notice Marvel and Kon* “Wait! Wait! Wait! Try mine next!” *they all proceed to take turns shoving cookies into Marvel’s hands*

Marvel: *eats them all and gives each of them stellar reviews*

About after thirty minutes of Marvel and the kids eating cookies…

Marvel: “What was all this for by the way?”

YJ: “Huh?”

Marvel: “What was all this for? I mean, it’s not my birthday, so…” *doesn’t know it’s Father’s Day*

YJ: “Oh uh… We just felt like it.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay!” *just happy to gobble the last, remaining cookies* “By the way, this means a lot to me. Even if it was just a spur of the moment thing. I appreciate it.”

YJ: *all super duper uper happy he loves it but trying not to show it* “No problem.” (Spoiler: they’re not very good at hiding it.)

Then there’s Damian. He’s always had a love-hate relationship with Marvel’s happy go lucky, friendly attitude, but it sort of reminds him of Grayson so he’ll never admit it but it’s leaning more towards love. The man has also weirdly never once gotten mad at him, or at anyone as far as he can tell. He’s extremely patient, and the fact that Damian hasn’t pushed the limits of that patience yet is surprising to the young Wayne. The man also knows a surprising about of animal facts and lets him pet his tiger. So that’s another bonus. The man also doesn’t underestimate him solely based on the fact he’s a child. So, when the Father’s Day holiday rolls around, he decides he would reward Marvel for being an admittedly commendable person.

Marvel: *standing by the window of the Titan’s tower, looking at Jump City*

Damian: *appears from nowhere* “Captain.”

Marvel: *jumps before looking to Damian* “Yes, Robin?”

Damian: *holds up Alfred the Cat* “This is Alfred the Cat. I’m giving you the privilege to pet him just this once. Say hi, Alfred.”

Alfred the Cat: *meows*

Marvel: “Hi.” *little wave to Alfred* “Nice to meet you, Alfred.” *shakes Alfred’s little paw before petting him*

Damian: *lets Marvel get a single pet in before pulling Alfred away* “Alright, that’s enough.”

Marvel: “Oh- uh…” *smiles at Damian* “Thanks for letting me pet him, Robin.”

Damian: “Your welcome.” *nods at him before walking off to bring Alfred back to the manor*

Then there’s also Raven. She honestly had no intention of even thinking about the holiday, considering the fact her father is a demon that actively sucks and ruins her life. Then she saw Damian do his thing and after thinking about the Captain and how the man cares for her and her team members… she supposed he should get some type of reward. The man is extremely nice after all.

A little while after Damian’s departure…

Marvel: *back to looking out the window*

Raven: *also appears out of nowhere* “Marvel.”

Marvel: *jumps just like with Damian and looks to her* “Yes, Raven?”

Raven: *presents Marvel with a mini version of himself*

Mini Marvel: *waves to Billy*

Marvel: “Wha?” *bends down slightly to look at Mini Marvel with a confused smile* “Is that me?”

Raven: *nods head* “It’s a new spell I learned. I wanted to show you.”

Marvel: *pokes Mini Marvel in the stomach* “This is… Amazing!” *gives her a wide grin* “You’re amazing!”

Raven: *a little surprised she feels happy at the man’s approval but isn’t really hating* “Thanks.”

Marvel: “Actually, wait. Hold up!” *mutters a spell and in his hand spawns a Mini Raven. He places the Mini Raven in Raven’s palm with the Mini Marvel*

Mini Marvel: *fawning over Mini Raven*

Mini Raven: *blankly staring at Mini Marvel and lets it fawn*

Marvel: “And you’re saying you learned this spell on your own?” *looks away from the Minis and to Raven* “That’s awesome. You did a wonderful job.”

Raven: *doesn’t really know how to handle all the praise* “Thanks… I’m uh… I think I left the stove on.” *instead of heading to the kitchen, runs off to her room*

Marvel ended up later telling the other members of the JL how many gifts he’s gotten that day. They were a little confused and wondered how many kids Marvel could have. But no, they found out that a lot of their own kids think of him as a somewhat father. Also, a few of the adults might’ve thought about slipping Marvel gifts when the man wasn’t looking cause Billy being a dad isn’t just exclusive to the kids.

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myownwholewildworld · 21 days ago

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a man called joel (part 3)

↪ a "a man called otto" inspired fic ― jackson!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | follow @arranupdates for notifs! | AO3 summary: it's been four weeks since your patrol with joel. and while you try to forget about him and settle into your new life in Jackson, there's an inside voice screaming at you. one that you can't ignore and, thankfully, you don't. author's note: i, uh... well. part 3 is here! this is the scene i envisioned when i first thought of this series. not gonna lie, i'm nervous about posting this one. i hope you guys enjoy it (as much as angst can be enjoyed, that is). as always, please heed the warnings and if you like what you read, please consider interacting with this post or come yap at me! love you all <3 tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. ANGST. ellie makes an apperance and she's ruthless with joel (i'm sorry). joel breaks. suicide attempt. vomitting. tiny mention of blood. wound tending. a load of angst yes, but this time there's some angsty comfort too! dual pov. quotes from "a hundread years of solitude" on joel's pov; quotes from "chronicle of a death foretold" on reader's pov. reader is female, has hair. no use of y/n. joel is 61 and reader is 46. wordcount: ~8.6k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

Hurt wouldn’t even cover it. Disappointed was more like it—not with Joel, but with yourself. For allowing yourself to care too much about a stranger, for worrying over those who didn’t bother to at least be nice in return.

Should have learnt this was not how the world worked anymore, decades ago. The apocalypse had changed humanity, brought out the worst of people. And yet again, every time you encountered someone in need, you’d lend a hand. Only to have it bitten off by the harsh crudeness of this new reality that had been haunting you since the beginning of it all.

Time and time again, you had stumbled with the same stone—the stone of hope. When the virus took hold of what little remained of societal decency, you told yourself people were only scared, that was why they were cruelly acting out. When your partner became bitter and erratic, you again told yourself it was only because of desperation. When havoc caused division within your group, you tried to assuage them.

You’d always tried—it was in your nature, part of who you were. And if there was something you were proud of, was that you never let go of the values your parents taught you. Perhaps you were too kind-hearted for this vicious world. But you refused to allow the circumstances to change who you were at your core.

Despite the conviction, it was terribly hard to constantly extend a hand to others. You were drained. Not of purpose, but because of rejection. Having lost everyone who had accompanied you since the beginning, finding yourself alone now in this decrepit world… It was taking a big mental toll on you. And when you saw the pain disguised as bluntness in Joel, a piece of you reached out to him—the fixer in you had clung to the last dregs of him. Perhaps you didn’t know him but knew his harrowing agony. Knew what being the outcast felt like, what loneliness was. Knew the torment of what if, the misery of why didn’t I.

You were drowning in your own thoughts, overthinking the situation until you worried yourself to sleep. And in a moment of weakness right after your patrol with Joel, you had asked Tommy if you could move to a different house. Not your proudest moment.

“Anything wrong with the one you are in now? Pipes all good?” Tommy had asked you when you approached him in the community hall after ensuring Joel was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, no. Yeah, pipes are good now, thanks,” you had lied, still feeling guilty about having to block one to match the excuse you’d given him. “It’s just, uh… It’s too big of a house for just me, I’m sure a family would make good use of it. I’m happy to live somewhere smaller.”

And somehow, he’d seen through your lie this time around. The way his brows had furrowed as the inner working of his brain put the pieces together was eerily familiar—a shared mannerism between the Millers.

“Has Joel done or said something stupid?” When you didn’t reply, trying to hide your betraying expression, he had huffed. “Such a fucking prick. Is that why you’ve asked Maria to change your patrol shifts too? I swear, when I catch him!”

You reassured Tommy over and over again that neither of those two asks had anything to do with his older brother. Theatrics was never your forte, so whether he bought it or not, you didn’t know.

Now you just felt silly for letting Joel doubt yourself, what you stood for. His rejection shouldn’t set you back.

He doesn’t want my help? Fine then. I’ll help someone else.

But as that thought formed, your mind drifted away to that fateful patrol day. How you found him, frozen in front of that clicker. How the despair and regret flickered in the brown bark of his eyes. How the knife slipped from his hand—Wait, or did he drop it? Did he mean not to put up any fight? Did he mean to give up? Did he mean to let the infected kill him?

Did he mean to commit suicide?

No. He wouldn’t. He’s got a family, you thought, your mind jarring and struggling with the daunting idea of someone ending their life.

But did having a family really mean anything? Did having a family mean you didn’t feel alone? You knew it didn’t.

Perhaps I didn’t see it right, perhaps the knife did slip.

But if it did, why would you find him crying? Looking down at your hands, you rubbed your fingers together—you could still feel the dampness of his tears, the wetness of his desperation, from when you cradled his weathered face and brushed the tears away.

Your mind drifted back to your conversation with Tommy three weeks ago, the unsettling feeling returning to your belly.

“Have you checked in on him lately?” The question had slipped before you could refrain yourself from asking. Because despite how rude he’d been, you still worried about him, especially after what you thought you saw with the clicker in the outbuilding.

“Who? Joel? He’s fine. He’s always been this grumpy, don’t worry about him,” Tommy had said with a laugh and a wave of his hand. “Why you ask?”

You did really consider mentioning what you had witnessed on patrol, but didn’t want to cause any more trouble between the brothers if you were wrong. Besides, it was obvious Joel wasn’t seeking any help.

Are you fucking stupid or are you just pretending to be?

Your muscles stiffened suddenly, the disrespect of his words rummaging in the fresh gaping wound in your chest. How some simple sentence almost had you folded—a slap in the face would have hurt less. The despise in his eyes, how he backed up like a cornered animal when you reached for him again—as if the mere thought of you was disgusting, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you putting your hands on him again.

Your heart stirred uncomfortable in your chest, a heavy, surrendered sigh escaping from your lips. How could a stranger’s rejection have such a big impact on you?

Just let it go. He doesn’t want your help. Move on.

A knock on your door startled you. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you untucked your legs from underneath you before throwing the blanket aside and standing up off the couch. It was almost midnight, the deadly quiet of the night amplifying the sound of the wind rustling leaves nearby, and you were not expecting any visitors.

Leaving the book—the one where you had gotten stuck reading the same paragraph repeatedly while your mind drifted away—on the side table, you tiptoed to the front door. Looking through the peephole, your blood froze.

Right there, standing on your porch in the dead of night, was the personification of your hurt. Joel Miller. In the darkness, he still looked tired and restless. When was the last time he slept? you wondered. Joel Miller looked like a man with one foot in the grave.

Your fingers curled around the handle, but you hesitated—what could he possibly want at this ungodly hour? He’d probably seen the orange shadow your lamp casted on the living room’s window, so there was no point in pretending you weren’t awake. But still, you stalled.

Joel raised his fist to knock again but thought better of it. You saw the doubt dancing in the whisky hue of his irises, all resolution abandoning him. His lips fell into a flat line and then nodded to himself before turning around.

Your heart raced and before he could walk away, you swung the door open.

“Joel?” you whispered, switching on the porchlight and hugging yourself when the cold breeze hit you.

Joel’s bowed head snapped up, his shoulders squaring instantly. For a brief second, he paused—as if he considered playing deaf and running away. Slowly Joel veered around and faced you.

His worn expression took you aback. Perhaps the cast of the porchlight magnified the dark circles under his orbs, the yellowish tint of the bruise kissing the exposed skin of his neck, the deep creasing lines around his eyes and mouth.

Joel Miller was a man who looked… defeated? Torn? Exhausted? Purposeless?

“Uh, hi,” he muttered in return, his eyes taking in the sight of you after your name rolled easily off his tongue.

You felt more self-conscious now—you were barefoot, hadn’t taken care of your hair today, and you had the worst pyjamas on, holes and old stains included. So unwittingly, you hugged yourself harder.

“Hi, Joel,” you repeated. “What do you want?”

You didn’t intend for your question to have a resentful hint, but it did. It just slipped, like the knife off his hand.

“Uhm,” his hand flew to the back of his neck, his lips flattening even more. “I, uh… Well…”

He hadn’t said much yet, but you sensed what this late-night visit could be about. Was he about to ask for your forgiveness? An actual, heart-felt apology for the crudeness of his actions and words. In all honesty, that was all you needed to acquit his behaviour. Everyone deserved a second chance, deserved to right a wrong.

You watched him struggle for words as your heart raced expectantly, fighting back the tiny smile that threatened to curl your lips a tad too early.

“I… Yeah. I was wondering if I could borrow that book you recommended on our last day of patrol?” Joel stumbled over his own words, his jaw locking. “Chronicle of a Death Foretold?”

The warm feeling swarming your belly soon turned cold. Heavy, churning, your disappointment so thick you had to swallow to untie the knot in your throat. Why should you expect something different? An apology from him? You almost scoffed at your risible occurrence.

“Is that it?” you mumbled in a vain attempt to hide your frustration.

Joel paused, mouth opening and closing fast as thunder. His Adam’s apple bobbed, words hitching at the back of his throat. You could see the pulleys of his mind at work in the windows of his eyes, the only tell he couldn’t govern.

And yet again, disillusionment followed.

“Yeah,” another uncomfortable silence. Joel’s posture shifted, his fists clenching. “I just finished my book, so I have nothing to read.”

“No, sorry,” you gritted, sensing your own annoyance building up. “I haven’t finished it yet.”

If your retort took him aback, you couldn’t tell. Joel just gave you a stern nod instead, his determination deflating behind his brown eyes. Was he so proud he wouldn’t admit he’d treated you wrong?

“Right, sorry to disturb. Night,” and as fast as he came, Joel was gone.

You saw him crossing the thick blanket of snow, head buried between his shoulders, before he disappeared through his front door.

Every day for the next week, you warred with yourself. Perhaps it was your people-pleasing tendencies, but more than once you caught yourself before walking up the steps of Joel’s porch and offering him Gabo’s book.

It was a losing battle though. Eventually you’d wave a white flag, stick it in the middle of the street between Joel’s and your house. Claim that it was his fault that you hadn’t given in for not opening up, for not being brave enough to say what he came to say—or what you thought he came to say.

But upon reflection, forcing someone to acknowledge their grief, their solitude, their struggles, was not the best approach. Trust required time, and it was obvious Joel Miller needed more than that. You were now convinced that he truly was at the end of his wits. The knife hadn’t slipped, he’d dropped it—it was as clear as the sun would rise tomorrow over his roof.

You wondered if his family knew, if he had at least confided in someone. Because if he hadn’t, then this secret you were keeping was eating away at the confines of your contrition. It would tear you apart, being complicit in his pain.

Sat on the bay window of your living room, you read again the last paragraph of the book.

“Santiago, my son,” she shouted to him, “what has happened to you?” “They've killed me, Wene child,” he said. He stumbled on the last step, but he got up at once. “He even took care to brush off the dirt that was stuck to his guts,” my Aunt Wene told me. Then he went into his house through the back door that had been open since six and fell on his face in the kitchen.

The last word echoed in your mind, so loud you had to whisper it. Kitchen. You said it again with a trembling sigh, wearing it out, flushing it out of your brain.

Why did you suddenly have this déjà vu, anxiety-like feeling sinking in the pit of your stomach?

As you’d done at least a dozen times in the last two hours, your eyes moved away from the yellowed pages across the street. In his porch, Joel was still in the same position as you last checked on him. Impassive like a statue, you wondered if he’d frozen up with the chilling temperatures. He’d been sitting on that bench for over two hours now, staring into the distance as his only pastime. Waiting. For something to happen. Or someone to show up.

It worried you how he hadn’t moved an inch, what was in his mind that had him under such a numbing spell. Perhaps you should intervene now, talk to him, ask him why he was out there alone wrapped in the blanket of such misty night.

But before you could make up your mind, someone did appear. Getting closer to the window glass, you watched from behind the curtains how the girl approached the porch. Her stance was rigid, her features young. She was clearly a teenager, then it hit you. Did Joel have a daughter?

The moment Joel saw her, he jumped up to his feet instantly, his posture as stiff as hers. The girl huffed, her shoulders slouching, as she walked past the steps where Joel was standing. He must have shouted back, because her head sank between her shoulders—a gesture you had seen Joel do just a week ago.

The teenager turned around, her face fierce as she replied something you didn’t quite catch. By the way her hands moved as she spoke, and how Joel’s demeanour soured even from the distance, you knew a heated argument had ensued between the two. It only lasted a minute or two before the girl stormed off, walking around the house and heading towards the garage at the back.

Your attention drifted back to Joel, who was still at the top of the stairs. You couldn’t fully see his face, only his profile—but whatever had just happened, had affected him. His right hand curled around the banister while his eyes tracked his daughter walking away and his left clutched at his chest, his stance shifting as if he was in unbearable pain. Joel remained still for another minute, and you wished you knew what was crossing his mind at that precise moment.

He looked so lonely. So broken. So… lifeless. The stillness of his posture spoke of something deeper, a sorrow so heavy it would compete with Atlas carrying the weight of the world. As if he tiptoed on the edge of life—staring into the abyss, pondering, weighing his worth.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him alone on that porch. Only if you could reach out, tell him whatever it was, it would be okay.

Why doesn’t it register in your fucking brains that I want to be left alone, huh?

But as you saw him steeling himself and walking back inside, your insides churned. You knelt on the window bay, watching the ajar door Joel had left behind.

An impending sense of doom flushed through you, your heart racing wildly, your breathing quickening.

“The truth is I didn’t know what to do,” he told me. “My first thought was that it wasn’t any business of mine but something for the civil authorities, but then I made up my mind to say something in passing to Placida Linero.” Yet when he crossed the square, he’d forgotten completely. “You have to understand,” he told me, “that the bishop was coming that day.”

But did you? Did you know what to do? Would you intervene, even if there was only a very thin possibility you were right, when your mind, your soul, was screaming at you right now?

Your heart jolted in your chest, mind fuzzy with doubt. While the Vicario brothers had been the ones to skew Santiago Nasar’s life, Joel’s Grim Reaper could be someone scarier—himself.

Maybe I’m just overreacting, reading into it far too much, you tried to convince yourself.

But as minutes went by, eyes glued to his front door, not doing anything wasn’t an option. Not when your heart and mind knew there was something wrong. You couldn’t explain why or what it was, just that it was.

Getting up, you grabbed an old cardigan, slipped your feet into the winter boots laying on the floor by your front door, and sprinted outside with the book tucked under your elbow.

You sprinted across the blizzard, reaching Joel’s porch within seconds. And even though the door was clearly not shut, you still knocked.

“Joel?” you called out, controlling the tremor in your voice. “I finished the book. I was wondering if you wanted to borrow it now?”

No reply, silence followed your feeble attempt at reconciliation.

With your heart climbing up your throat, you knocked again, the door cracking open a bit more.

“Joel?”

Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and walked inside, putting your guard up to whatever you would find. The hallway was dark and cold, the wintery breeze whistling past you. Softly closing the door behind you, you put down the book on the console table and peeked inside the living room.

The decoration was rustic, some dark woods contrasting with the soft blue on the walls. Every piece of furniture looked crafted, curated, not like the mustard couch you had falling apart in the middle of your living room. The fireplace was still crackling, the embers glowing under the soft light of a standing lamp in the corner. But it was empty.

Your instinct told you to move further down the house, and you did in silence. It was so quiet, you were sure your heartbeat could be heard from a mile away. Trudging past the dining room, you got to the kitchen.

“There had never been a death so foretold.”

Your breath hitched; your heart stilled. Under the doorframe you froze, like a rabbit in the presence of a predator. Only you were no prey—Joel was.

Prey to the drowning solitude of his home, of his own loneliness, of life itself.

Prey to the forgetfulness of death—an omen that now made sense, a subtle hint you hadn’t first fully comprehended when he recited those words to you three weeks ago.

Prey to a desperation so thick, it was literally killing him.

Prey to masquerading his pain, deceitful in his actions, in his rude, careless demeanour.

“He was healthier than the rest of us, but when you listened with the stethoscope you could hear the tears bubbling inside his heart.”

Perhaps you couldn’t hear the bubbling of his heart, but you could definitely see the foam pooling at the corners of his mouth as his legs twitched on the floor of his poorly-lit kitchen.

The ephemeral moment stretched for a second too long as your mind tried to grasp what your heart already knew.

Joel was ending it—his life. The suffering. The heartache. The desolation. The guilt he carried, for whatever he thought was unforgivable.

No.

And in the blink of an eye, you lurched forward, your knees skidding on the scratched wooden planks as you landed by his side. His whole body convulsed, his limbs shaking the life out of him, draining him. The chattering of his teeth gritting made your belly churn as tears welled up.

“Joel. Oh my God, Joel!” You whispered, trembling hands hovering over him as your eyes roved over the gut-wrenching vision in front of you. “No, no, no!”

Your desperate wails became louder, but your mind got sharper. This couldn’t be happening. You needed to act now if you were to save his life, there was no time to run out and scream for help. Joel had no time left.

You rolled him over to his side, an inner debate happening as you did.

Should I? If this is what he really wants, if his pain is so great he’s decided to end it, should I intervene? Who am I to take the choice away from him?

But at the end of the day, the real question was: could you live with yourself if you let him die? Could you look at Tommy’s eyes, at Benji’s or Maria’s, and tell them you didn’t dare intercede? That you rather watch him die than having him resent you even more?

What is one more ounce of hate?

And with that thought, your selfish decision was made. Craning his head back a little and holding his jaw with your left hand, you sank three fingers down his foamy mouth, pressing them down on his tongue.

Joel retched, even in his almost gone state.

His eyes fluttered open for an ephemeral moment, tears smudging the beautiful chestnut of his irises, to then shut while his limbs kicked everywhere.

“No, Joel, please,” you pleaded in a sob, forcing your fingers deeper down his throat and pressing down on his tongue again. “P-please come back to me.”

Finally—thankfully—Joel heaved, and you let go of an audible, relieving cry when you felt the warmth of his vomit running past your fingers. You gently held his head tilted towards the floor so his airway wouldn’t block and removed your fingers from his mouth.

“Oh, thank goodness,” you sighed tremblingly, rubbing his shoulder before you raked your fingers through his soft, silvery curls, so his hair wouldn’t be in his eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Oh, God. Please, be okay. Please, Joel.”

He had a nasty cut on his left temple running down to his brow, probably from plummeting onto the floor and hitting his head on the countertop. It was still bleeding, but there were more pressing matters.

Joel stayed down for a minute while you whispered your relief, it was obvious his brain had been battling for oxygen and was trying to come back to reality. You brushed his cheek with your thumb before he showed signs of wanting to sit up.

Wrapping an arm around his waist, you did. Joel leaned back, back resting against the kitchen island. It took him a second before his misty eyes focused on you, his breathing as shaky as your soul.

Under his intense stare you froze again, kneeling in front of him. His eyes were windows to a profound desperation, a grief so deep you’d only dared to imagine, but one you felt down to your core, in your bones. It hit you like a massive wave, flooding your chest with a dread you hadn’t let yourself feel since you arrived at Jackson.

“Joel…” you hushed faintly, one hand reaching up to his shoulder, a comforting caress.

He didn’t reject your advance. And that was when you knew he was broken inside. All pieces of him scattered around like shards of glass, a puzzle with missing bits—the most important ones. The ones that made him, him.

And then Joel swallowed hard before covering his eyes with one broad palm. His shoulders shook in silence, and with that your heart shrank and fell freely into the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, Joel,” you mumbled shakily, scooting over towards him and embracing him, wrapping him in your warmth.

Instead of denying his own tears as he did on patrol, Joel cried. Soft, heartbreaking sobs that found root in your heart, and you just couldn’t help yourself but hug him tighter, fighting your tears back at how low he’d fallen to be openly vulnerable with you.

“It’s okay, Joel, you’re okay,” the words stuck to the back of your mouth. “Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise. Whatever it is, I will help you. You’re not alone, Joel. You aren’t. I’m here. I’ll always be here if you need me to. It’s okay.”

You cradled the back of his head with one hand while the other was firmly on his back, bringing him closer to you. And when you felt one of his on the small of your back in a half embrace, thick tears sprang to your eyes.

You held him tight, allowing him to brush some of the weight he carried off his shoulders. And then, your own guilt began suffocating you. Was he crying because you took the choice away from him? Because he wasn’t dead? Because he wasn’t resting?

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t… I just… I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you go. Please, forgive me. I just couldn’t,” you begged of him, a plea for lenience that escaped before you could wish it back.

Fifteen minutes earlier...

“You’re very late, Ellie,” Joel reproached, arms folded at the top of the steps.

He fought to keep his tone steady, he hated doing this. He’d been worried sick all night, wondering where Ellie was. The catastrophist in him had already imagined every single scenario where she’d be hurt or left for dead in a trench. He’d felt so anxious for the last three hours, Joel had to set aside the carving he had been working on after messing it up twice.

Seeing her walking towards the house had filled him with an immense relief, his heart beating so fast he was afraid it would grow legs and run away. But dread quickly followed—the father in him couldn’t just sweep it under the rug. Ellie needed to be reminded of the rules. And she’d put up a fight, make him the bad guy.

And despite being okay with becoming the villain in her story, it still hurt him. A wound so deep that his heart was splintering, because he didn’t really want to do it. Didn’t want to grow further apart from her, the abyss between them so big now it seemed insurmountable. Their relationship was almost beyond repair—he was painfully aware of it—and telling her off for coming home late would only complicate it more.

But he couldn’t just ignore it. He had to do something.

Ellie’s shoulders dropped as she walked past him towards the garage, blatantly disregarding his presence.

Another chink in his already hollering heart.

“Ellie, I’m talking to you,” he raised his voice, warring with himself to keep a calm demeanour. “It’s past two in the morning. You should have come home at least three hours ago.”

Ellie stopped right in her tracks, turning around to face him. The despise in her eyes was as fiery as it was seven months ago when she learnt the truth. And despite the passage of time, it hurt all the same, if not more.

“Who do you think you are to control my every move?” She hissed between gritted teeth, cocking a querying brow.

Your father, was the innate response that burnt the tip of his tongue. Joel fought back the words, knowing full well they would only aggravate the situation.

“What? Do you really think you’re my dad?” Ellie scoffed loudly, an instigating smile curling her mouth.

It didn’t reach her eyes, more of a frustrated grimace than anything else, but still a knife through the heart would have hurt less—Ellie’s words so perfectly aimed, they’d hit the bullseye, causing internal bleeding. Joel felt a stabbing sensation behind his eyes but reined the feeling in with a deep breath.

She doesn’t mean it, she’s angry, he reminded himself.

“I may not be your biological father, but—”

“No, Joel. There’s no but. You aren’t my dad,” Ellie gritted in frustration, her hands moving as she kept on going at him. “My real dad wouldn’t have lied to me for more than four years about what happened in the hospital. My real dad wouldn’t have taken away from me the only thing that made me valuable to this world. My real dad wouldn’t have promised to not kill Eugene to then fucking shoot him while I was gone!”

She knew how to twist the knife, how to make the wound even worse than it already was. Joel’s mouth ran dry, a gurgling void consuming the pit of his stomach as the words settled in his brain. His heart was beating so hard, his eardrums were about to explode.

Joel needed to redirect the conversation before Ellie said something that would tip him over the edge. He needed to keep a cool mind, try not to let her accusations take root in his heart. Joel had to bite back, “I did do all of it because I love you like my own blood, Ellie. You are more valuable than your immunity, that’s not what makes you, you, not to me. And I would do it all over again if I had the chance.”

“Why are you late? Who were you with?” he said instead, swallowing the suffocating knot in his throat.

Ellie laughed in disbelief, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

“Why do you want to know? So you can go and kill them too for keeping me away from this dreadful house?” she retorted back, huffing. “Since that’s how you deal with every fucking problem in your life. Kill them all, right?”

“Because I’m your guardian—”

“—I’m nineteen, Joel. I don’t fucking need you—”

“And as long as you live under my roof, you’ll play by my rules,” he finished, ignoring her interruption.

“Then perhaps I should move out!” Ellie shouted at him, taking a step back. “God, were you this insufferable with Sarah too? Because if you were, I’m sure she hated you for being the worst dad ever. Perhaps it was for the better.”

Ellie didn’t need to specify what was for the better, Joel caught the meaning instantly. That she died.

That was a way to take the knife out of the gaping wound to have him bleed to death. Her cruelness left him speechless, the prickling feeling at the back of his eyes returning. That was the lowest blow he’d ever received; one he didn’t expect from someone he held so dear despite the souring of their relationship.

“You don’t mean that,” Joel whispered, forcing himself to swallow.

Ellie paused—her expression faltered for an instant, perhaps realising the damage she’d caused, but her anger blinded her, stronger than the side of her that wanted to apologise.

“I’m tired,” she mumbled suddenly, her anger slowly deflating, taking a few steps away.

“Ellie,” Joel called under his shaky breath. “I—”

I’m sorry. I wish I could have done better. I just wanted to protect you. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another child, of losing you. Perhaps you don’t understand how much I love you, how there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. Maybe one day you’ll know, you’ll understand why I did what I did. I’m really sorry.

“It’s late,” Ellie cut him off. “And I better go to bed before you kick my ass.”

And with that, she disappeared into the gloomy night.

I’ve already lost her too.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, so hard it made him stagger. Joel grabbed the handrail for support, his other hand flying to his chest. His heart was pumping so hard, it almost felt like that muscle was about to give out.

It felt like his heart had been ripped out, chucked on the floor for someone to stomp. Joel truly had no reason to be here anymore―the only tether to keep him earthbound had just been severed.

Ellie wasn’t angry with him, no; she hated him. So much that she hadn’t hesitated to bring Sarah up in conversation, knowing how much of a touchy subject it was for Joel. His memories of his daughter were fading, so ethereal now Joel almost thought he dreamt her. The only ones that were vivid in his brain were the bad ones—all the poor decisions he made, in the last few hours of her life.

Grief was a funny thing—how it gave a loud voice to his mistakes and drowned the actual good things he did for her, how it made him focus on the bad rather than the good. He sometimes even doubted if he’d ever been good to Sarah at all—good enough at least, better than his own father was.

“The heart’s memory is selective, which is the basis of its deceitfulness.”

Ellie throwing that accusation at him had only enlivened his most dreadful fear. Had he been the worst dad to Sarah? Had she hated him too? Did she blame him for her death, for his low reaction response, for not taking the bullet for her?

I wanted to. I wish I could have. I wish it had been me.

Taking a big, shaky breath, Joel made the decision he’d been postponing for four weeks now in the hopes that the situation would get better, that he would feel better. However, it had only gotten worse. Ellie had been very clear that she didn’t need him anymore, that he was just a hindrance to her life—a reminder of how she’d failed humanity. Tommy didn’t need him either; he had a thriving family of his own, and Joel was convinced that his sombre presence would only do more harm than good.

And without his family, there was nothing left for him to do on this earthly plane. Joel was exhausted—the kind of mental fatigue that only a deep, forever sleep would cure. And he was done with it all; with this feeling of harrowing melancholy, of drowning loneliness, of death sniffing at the cuffs of his pants.

He couldn’t bear the thought of one hundred years of solitude, not anymore. Joel had lived his life and had nothing left to give.

In a blurry haze, he walked inside his home.

“[…] not knowing what he was doing because he did not know where his feet were or where his head was, or whose feet or whose head, and feeling that he could no longer resist the glacial rumbling of his kidneys and the air of his intestines, and fear, and the bewildered anxiety to flee and at the same time stay forever in that exasperated silence and that fearful solitude.”

It all happened as if he wasn’t even in control of his own actions. As if he was watching himself from outside, completely detached from his own body. A void in his mind so big, there had been no room for thought. With trembling hands, Joel had taken out the two letters he’d written to Tommy and Ellie and smoothed them down on the kitchen counter besides the sink before he’d headed to the medicine cabinet. Anything he could blindly reach for would do.

It had only taken a few minutes for all the pills to make him feel sick.

Next thing he knew, Joel was on the floor, sweating and drifting away in agony—his mind spiralling, his throat itching with bile, his stomach burning.

And when he blinked alive again and saw you there, Joel thought you were a vision, that you really weren’t there. That perhaps, finally, he had succeeded, and you were there to guide him into the afterlife.

But the moment you hugged him, the moment he felt himself bound to Earth again, Joel knew he wasn’t dreaming. This was real—you were real. The person he’d mistreated at every opportunity, so much he’d seen the hurt in your eyes and regretted it.

Joel tried to mend his mistake—tried to apologise the night he walked up to your porch at the stroke of midnight. But his resolution had wavered, and his stupid ass had asked for the book instead. The disappointment in your features still haunted him, even at Death’s door.

And yet, here you were, comforting him at his lowest, seeing the ache he’d carried for so long pour out into the world.

Joel had not been able to contain the tears, the desperation trickling out the cracks of his shattered soul, soaking the fabric of your cardigan. And as much as he hated being vulnerable, he just couldn’t rein his demons back in.

The loss he felt was greater than anything he’d experienced before. So loud, yet so quiet in its disguise; so alien, yet so eerily familiar in its pain; so suffocating, yet so freeing in its release. He’d lost so much of himself over the past few months, there was nothing left of him—just a carcass of his existence, a cocoon that kept the jagged pieces of his being feebly glued together, just enough to keep him standing for the people he loved.

Not people, just the one person who grounded his world, Ellie. And with her deeming him expendable, what was there left to fight for? What was his reason for existing if not to be a better version of himself with Ellie by his side?

At sixty-one, all joy and happiness had snuffed out of his life.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t… I just… I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you go. Please, forgive me. I just couldn’t.”

And then there was you, apologising for bringing him back, for pulling his strings like an expert puppeteer. For undoing his choice without a second thought. For forcing him back into a dark, soul-crushing world.

Should he be mad? Yes, but Joel had no energy left to confront you nor anyone. His throat was ablaze and sore, the aftertaste tingling on his tongue. And then the exhaustion—he was so fucking tired, his arms felt heavier than usual, his legs almost paralysed. His tummy churned, another wave of nausea overtaking him.

His head snapped to one side when the bile rose up his throat. He couldn’t stop the retching before he vomited again, fire climbing up his mouth with a pungent, acidic tang.

You didn’t even flinch, didn’t even step back away from him when he almost puked on you. Instead, you patted his shoulder before your hand travelled up the back of his neck to skim his curls back and away from his forehead. The caress was so gentle, so comforting and almost intimate, it made his skin crawl.

“Why… why are you here?” Joel asked gruffly, brushing his mouth with the back of his still shaky hand.

Your fingers dropped from his hair, your eyes full of a compassion he’d never witnessed before. They were warm and calming, bright under the orange glow of the overhead light. But they also had a sadness to it—almost as if you understood him, as if you knew what he was going through.

Sitting back on your heels, you sighed. “I… I just finished reading Chronicle of a Death Foretold and thought you might wanna borrow it,” you uttered under your breath, your hands twisting on your lap, but your eyes were transfixed on him. “The truth is, I saw you on the porch with your daughter. And then I had this… urge to come see you.”

Joel didn’t correct you about Ellie. Despite how adamant she’d been about him not being a father to her, despite her cruelness, he still believed himself to be her dad. Because that was what fathers should do—love their kids unconditionally, even when they would hurt you with their spiteful words. Even when they would walk away and never look back. Even when they would banish you and disown you. Because even then, even after Ellie had implanted the seed for his descent into hell, Joel still loved her as his own, always would. No words or argument could ever change that.

The irony of your words didn’t escape him—had you foretold his death? This urge you spoke of, was destiny getting in the way of his not-so-well-crafted plan?

Joel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit, the back of his head still resting on the side panel of the kitchen island.

“You shouldn’t have,” was all he managed to whisper.

You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have saved me. You should have let me die.

Your gaze dropped before your eyes flickered back to his. Remorseful, but determined. A beacon of hope, a lighthouse in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“I know,” you mumbled with a little shrug without breaking eye contact.

Joel’s chest felt suddenly heavy—like a stone had lodged itself between his ribs, his throat clamping up and it had nothing to do with wanting to puke again. Such a feeling was foreign to him, its warmth slowly flushing through his body.

“I’m tired. You should go,” was his way of disclaiming this alien sensation.

You quickly sprung up to action, his petition for you to leave fell on deaf ears. Squatting by his side, you slithered your left arm around the back of his waist to help him up, the other hand wrapped around his front to clutch at his ribs. Too tired to reject your assistance, Joel managed to get up to his feet.

He staggered back, the whole world spiralling around him as his mind felt extremely buzzy. His fingers curled around the rim of the kitchen island to steady himself, all the while you were still holding him.

“I’m not going anywhere. Let’s get you to bed.”

The side glance you threw his way admitted no discussion, so for once Joel kept quiet. Trudging on wobbly legs, he made it upstairs with you by his side, his right arm draped around your shoulders for stability and your fingers intertwined with his.

You opened the door to the bedroom he’d nodded to and walked him inside. You pushed him towards the bed and almost forced him to sit down on the mattress. Without saying a word, you knelt before him to undo the knots of his boots and slide them off his feet.

“Where do you keep your pyjamas?” You asked unfazed by it all, towering up to your full height.

Joel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. It felt too intimate, too… close for comfort.

“I’m just gonna get them for you and then I’m gonna step out while you change,” you explained with a soft smile. “You can’t sleep with those clothes on, Joel.”

“First drawer of the dresser,” he mumbled, mind still hazy.

You grabbed his plaid pyjamas and left them on the bed by his side. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Joel saw you disappearing through the doorframe. Moving at snail speed, he managed to change into his night clothes before you returned with a tray. You were balancing a jug, a glass and a small bowl on it, a clean cloth perched on your shoulder.

“You’ve got a nasty cut on your temple. I’m not good at stitching, but we should clean it up before it becomes infected,” you explained while placing the tray on the nightstand before sitting beside him.

Joel had no energy left to oppose your care, so he just let you do. Your feather-like touch on his temple was soothing—so much that his eyes shut close while you delicately wiped the blood off his skin. You were so gentle he didn’t even wince once, or perhaps his mind was so fuzzy there was no room for physical pain.

“All done,” you announced after a couple of minutes. “You gotta drink all that water, okay? You may feel sick again too, although I think you’ve thrown everything up now. But just in case, that’s what the bowl is for.”

Joel nodded thoughtlessly, taking the glass you had just passed him and downing it. He gave it back to you, who put it down on the nightstand again.

“Do you want me to go get someone? Your brother? Your partner? A doctor perhaps?”

His head snapped up instantly, his heart mildly racing in worry. Joel quickly shook his head, the world spinning some more.

“No, don’t,” he husked out, swallowing a raspy groan, his hands curling into fists.

“Okay, I won’t,” you brushed his knee with yours. “Get some sleep. I ain’t going anywhere.”

“You don’t need to stay—”

“I want to stay, Joel, and I will stay. You’d have to kick me out of your house, and I don’t think you’re in a position to do that right now,” you said with gentleness before palming your thighs and standing up. “If you need me, shout.”

Your mind was still racing from everything that had unfolded. When you ran towards Joel’s house an hour ago, despite the doom pooling in your belly, you definitely had not expected to find him on the verge of death.

Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline running wild through your system, trying to come to terms with what had happened, what had pushed Joel so far as to take his own life. Because there was no denying what you had seen—it hadn’t been an accident. Which then made you wonder about the other times you’d found him.

Had he tried to end his life when you saw lying on the floor through the window? At the time you just thought he had fallen, an unlucky misstep on a ladder while changing a lightbulb. But now… the pieces of the puzzle started fitting together. Same with the mishap with the infected—he’d definitely dropped the knife on purpose.

How long had this been going on? Had he sought help? Was his family aware? Tommy? Maria? His daughter? Had Joel become so good at hiding his own misery that no one had really noticed how the light in his eyes was dwindling?

How alone he must have felt after at least three attempts without no one spotting the signs.

At least you had. Late, almost too late, but you had. And while you knew he wasn’t appreciative of your intervention, you just couldn’t let it happen. Your first instinct had been to help—like you always did. That part of you had almost died in the first few years of the apocalypse, but as time went on and people’s humanity waned, you found yours. You had been the voice of reason in your group, the kind-hearted one that would welcome strangers in despite your friends’ reticence. You had a knack for telling who was a good person, and that sixth sense had never failed you.

And that was why you were sure about Joel. He was pretty rough around the edges, but his core was good. You just knew.

Your mind kept on drifting away, running through everything that had happened over and over again until you almost made yourself dizzy with worry. You were now in the kitchen, having finished cleaning up the mess on the floor so Joel wouldn’t have to deal with it tomorrow morning.

I’ll just go and check on him, make sure he’s still breathing and doing okay, you thought to yourself while washing your hands in the kitchen sink.

As you grabbed a kitchen towel to dry your skin, your eyes landed on two brown, folded letters near the sink. One was addressed to Tommy, the other one to an Ellie. Your heart began beating wildly in your chest.

They are goodbye letter, suicide letters to his loved ones.

“Who are you and where is Joel?” A snappy voice brought you back.

The interruption startled you, heart jolting against your ribs, as you turned around.

The teen you’d seen on Joel’s porch earlier was standing a few feet away from you, gun cocked and pointed at you. You raised your hands up in the air instinctually, still clutching at the kitchen towel, fearing the worst. Joel’s daughter clicked her tongue when you didn’t respond.

“Uh, hi. Ellie?” You ventured, remembering the name on the letter. A glint in her eyes confirmed you were right. “I’m your new neighbour. I came to Jackson around a month ago. Please don’t shoot me.”

Ellie’s head tilted to one side as she scanned you from head to toe. Her eyes momentarily sparkled with some recognition, and she sheathed her gun again.

“I’ve seen you before. You live across the street, right?”

You took in the biggest breath of your life and nodded, dropping your hands and twisting the towel.

“Yeah. Sorry. Your dad’s not feeling well. He’s gone to bed,” you excused Joel’s absence the best you could without giving away what had transcended tonight. You didn’t want his daughter to worry.

A sudden realisation dawned upon you—had you not intervened when you did, Ellie would have found Joel dead on the kitchen floor. Your eyes watered at the idea, but you blinked the tears away before they formed.

“Is he okay?” Ellie asked, an instant worry washing over her young face as she took a few steps towards you.

The letters, she can’t see them.

Thinking as fast as you could, you threw the kitchen towel on the counter, aim perfect, and it landed on top of the letters, covering them completely.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” you quickly put her at ease, walking towards her and patting her shoulder. “He must have eaten something that didn’t agree with him, that’s all.”

“Shit,” Ellie muttered, sitting down on one of the stools by the island.

Then you remembered the heated argument you saw between them, and your heart silently cried for the young lady. Ellie must feel terrible now, her troubled expression darkening while she picked at her nails.

“Don’t worry. Joel’s okay now, Ellie. I promise,” the last word came out in a whisper. You didn’t want to lie to her but couldn’t tell her the crude truth either. If she was to find out, it couldn’t be through you. “Was there something you wanted?”

“I, uh… Just came to get an apple,” Ellie shrugged, reaching for the fruit bowl on the kitchen island.

You could tell that wasn’t the reason she was here. Perhaps she had come to apologise after the fight with her dad. If they two had something in common, was their reserve for apologies, that was for sure.

“Better get going,” Ellie muttered before biting into the apple and hopping back on the floor. “You staying?”

“Yeah. Just want to make sure he’s okay, then I’ll go back home.”

“Alright. Night.”

“Night, Ellie.”

Ellie lingered in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs for a second, probably considering going to check on Joel herself. But thought better of it, and a minute later she was gone.

You let go of a heavy sigh, eyes returning to the envelopes. Thank goodness she hasn’t seen them.

You couldn’t just let them lay there, so you grabbed them. Not that you were going to read them—it was a blatant invasion to anyone’s privacy—but you had to get them out of sight in case Ellie returned. So you folded them and slid them in the pocket of your cardigan.

You never went back home that night. After you went to check on Joel, who was squirming around in bed but otherwise asleep, you sat down on the armchair in the corner of his bedroom. You fought against your own fatigue as best you could but ended up slipping into a light sleep.

A few hours later, you woke up to the whisper of your name.

taglist: @wow-life-love4 @denisanoemi @wencontre @ccmoonshine @mystickittytaco @peelieblue @guelyury @marisemonteiroo @fangirlcentral1 @layaispunk @brittmb115 @mrsbilicablog @thedilfdiaries @eff4freddie @missadangel @moel-jiller @sunnytuliptime @queenofdisaster12 @lizzie-cakes @pedrofan @ladywraith @jessthebaker @readingiskeepingmegoing @aleariixx @anoverwhelmingdin @prose-before-hoes @joeldarling @suzysface @silksepia @mooniscrying @umadirectioner @dshc99 @harrysvirgogf @anitraivx

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sturnioz · 10 months ago

Note

"don't feel nothin' towards the kid" huh. well maybe shy!reader overheard him say that n gets rlly sad bc she's falling for him :(( n when fratboy!chris tries to talk to her she shuts down because she thinks he doesn't like her :/ idk i'm hungry for some angst

note. kinda went long n angsty on this one. i am sorry (im not actually im really not)

you shouldn't be upset. truthfully, a part of you knows you have no right to feel this way. your friend had warned you from the start that chris wasn't the relationship type — that he prefers meaningless hook-ups over commitments and feelings.

but hearing him say it blatantly out loud, it stung, tearing through you like a jagged knife. the weight of his words settled on you heavily, each syllable echoing in your mind, and you felt your sensitive heart shatter into pieces., leaving a hallow ache in your chest and a lump in your throat, tight and suffocating.

your tears were already spilling over and dripping down your cheeks as you solemnly turn around make your way back up to his room, the dim light of the hallway making you feel even more suffocated. you wanted to go leave, to go home to the comfort of your own room, but your car wasn't here and the darkness outside was too frightening for you to walk alone.

you sank down onto the bed, pulling at a loose thread on your sweater, each tug a desperate attempt to distract yourself from your emotions, but quiet sniffles followed by deeper sobs only reminded you of what just happened.

in that moment, you felt stupid, pathetic, like a complete loser for ever hoping for something more — for hoping you could change him. but of course, that only ever happens in the movie, and unfortunately your life is anything but. how could you be so naïve?

you are alone with your thoughts for a little while longer, drowning in your own pitifulness, when the bedroom door creaks opens. chris saunters in so casually, a simple white shirt loose on his frame and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, his hair tousled, and his eyes are clouded and faded from the joint he sparked up earlier.

you can't bear to look at him for too long — you refuse to. instead, you fixate on the wall, your gaze drifting over his posters in hopes to distract yourself as chris moves lazily around the room, rummaging through his desk drawer, the sound of coins clinking and crisp dollar bills rustling sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

"you hungry or what, kid?" he asks, scratching his cheek as he continues to dig through the mess.

it pains you how nonchalant and casual he sounds. it feels like a punch to the gut. how can he be so unfazed to the pain that he has just caused you? you shouldn't be surprised. this is who he is.

"hey. m'talkin' to you." he adds, his voice breaking through your haze.

you swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to budge as you still keep your eyes averted, not allowing him to see the hurt on your face. but a small sniffle escapes, and the sound immediately catches his attention. you feel the bed dip as he moves closer, fingers gripping your chin and turning your head to meet his gaze.

his eyes flick over your face, a huff leaving his lips. "what.. what's the matter with you? huh? you — you been watchin' those dumb videos again? told you not to do that, a'ight? fix your face."

chris goes to rub his thumb across your cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears, but you flinch away, opting to use your sleeve instead. his hand drops to the bed, a moment of silence hanging between you two. he shifts, tonguing at his cheek as he watches you with faded eyes that blink slowly, but studies every detail.

"what, uh.. what happened?" his concern sounds so strange to you, and it's clear it's hard for him too, judging by the way his face twitches slightly, his jaw tense. "somethin' happened to you, or what?"

you don't answer him once again, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you.

chris lets out a sigh of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to hold back his own irritation. "look. this — this silent treatment you got goin' on right now isn't workin', yeah? it's... it's bullshit, and i can't help you if you don't talk to me, alright? so — so talk, because this silence is really startin' to piss me off—"

"i want to go home." the words escape you like a whisper, and chris' head jerks back, surprise flickering across his features.

"you.. you wanna go home — like, right now? you wanna go home right now?" chris asks you, his voice laced with disbelief. you nod slowly, hearing him scoff, his disbelief turning into frustration. "the fuck you talkin' about? you don't wanna go home, bun, you — you're stayin' here tonight, remember? with me."

"i just want to go home..."

"did you take anythin'? huh?" chris suddenly asks, grabbing your cheeks again to lift your face, his eyes probing as he examines your bloodshot gaze. "did you go through my stash while i was downstairs? is — is that why your brain is all foggy n' shit? take somethin' on the sly?"

"no! i didn't!" you whine pathetically, pushing his hand away from your face. the tears swell in your eyes again, each drop a reminder of his callous words repeating in your mind. "i want to leave, chris."

"ha..." chris breathes out, his tongue rolling across his teeth as he stares at you for a moment, the disbelief still evident on his features. then he nods, smacking his lips together. "okay, alright. then — then go. you wanna leave s'bad? go."

a flicker of relief washes over you at the thought of finally escaping and going home to be comforted by your own room, to cry as much as you please, but the idea of walking home alone in the fark fills you with dread, an unsettling knot forming in your stomach.

"get that look off your face," chris grumbles as he climbs off the bed, snatching his phone off of his bedside table. he strides over to his desk to keep a distance from you, the tension still thick in the air. "i'm callin' you an uber, then you can fuckin' go."

#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#ᯓ꒰anon꒱#☆ fratboy!chris #☆ shy!reader #꒰ fratboy!chris x shy!reader prompt ꒱

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waynes-multiverse · 1 month ago

Text

Time After Time – Chapter 7

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, freely invented historical gossip, major angst alert & a bit of fluff

Word Count: 10.5k

Posted on Patreon April 11, 2025

A/N: Three angsty converstions in this one, three women, and one very upset Ben! Plus, a deep dive into Mrs. Brooks! If ya can't tell by the word count again, I clearly loved writing this part 😂🫶 ✨ Chapter title comes from The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

It had been an agonizing hour of pacing, second-guessing, and questioning everything that had led you here – to this strange, impossible life you had stumbled into.

A huge fucking pile of steaming hot shit, basically.

You hadn’t been able to sit still since Ben’s parents returned, your thoughts racing in a thousand different directions. Each time your footsteps neared the door of the guest bedroom, they became anxiously quiet and soft, however, not wanting to alert anyone to your presence. Every moment in this mansion felt like a misstep, a mistake you couldn’t undo.

The knot in your stomach twisted tighter.

You should’ve left a long time ago, but you had gotten too comfortable here – too cozy and snuggly with Ben, like he was your goddamn security blanket. But you cared about him and cared about what would happen to him, so the last thing you wanted at this point was to cause any more trouble for him, especially with his father.

So, you decided to leave.

You started throwing a few outfits from your closet onto the bed, only wanting to take the most necessary items before realizing you didn’t even own a bag big enough to stuff it in. But you had your magical remote control back, so your plan was to hit pause on the whole fucking mansion, grab a suitcase from somewhere, sneak out, and maybe rob a bank for some pocket change on your way out of dodge.

Yup, good plan.

But what about Ben? Were you leaving him behind, too?

Realistically, you knew it was the smartest choice. As wonderful, otherworldly, and addicting as that newfound, blooming feeling in your heart was, you knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere but into turmoil. This relationship didn’t have a future.

Period.

Either you’d lie to him for the rest of both your lives – however long that would be – or you’d hurt him. There was no other option.

Could you tell him? Could he handle the truth? Vought didn’t even exist yet. Right now, the Nazis were working on Compound V. To Ben, people gaining superpowers would be an alien concept.

‘Hey, uh, by the way, I have superpowers that let me control time, and I’m also from the future, and we don’t actually like each other there. And oh, yeah, you’re still alive in 2023 because some crazy Nazi geneticist will inject you with this serum that turns you into an invincible asshole.’

Nope, you couldn’t imagine that conversation going over well. He’d be either incredibly mad or not believe you at all. Then what?

Fuck.

With fingers trembling, you moved toward the window, glancing out at the muddy street, knowing the path to your escape lay beyond the mansion’s high gates. You were in a mess of your own making – a mess that had to end before you caused any more disruptions. His father was back, and that in itself was a disaster waiting to happen.

It had all been doomed from the start.

But then, just as you were about to gather your courage to finally get the fuck out of here, a knock at the door startled you from your thoughts and broke the tension in the air. Cautiously, you approached it, hand hovering on the knob as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

However, as you twisted it and opened the door a crack, your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you spied your visitor. It wasn’t Ben, his father, or even his mother.

“Dottie?” Your brow furrowed in confusion before you noticed the silver tray with a plate of food and a cup of tea in her hands.

“I brought you something to eat,” she said as she stood in the doorway, her expression one of tentative curiosity. You quickly wiped your palms against your skirt, standing a little straighter as she entered and set the tray down on your nightstand.

“Did Florence or Frances send you?” you asked warily. You knew you weren’t her favorite person, but she shook her head.

“No, just figured you were hungry since you’re missing dinner. I didn’t think Florence wants you starving up here,” she replied, her lips curling into something between a smirk and a sigh. “You dodged a bullet there, by the way. Family dinner is a bit… tense tonight. Lots of awkward silences and judgmental glares. Not that it’s something new per se…”

You were close to a migraine the way you strained your brow, blinking at the young maid in bemusement and shaking your head. “Thank you, uhm… I honestly didn’t think you cared about me… or even liked me,” you noted with an uncertain smile.

Dottie eyed you with a hint of mischief and approval in her gaze, a secretive smirk playing on her lips. “You’re not like the other girls who have come and gone through here. They fall over themselves trying to impress Ben, you know? But you don’t play that game. It’s… refreshing. You’ve got some fire in you. I respect that.”

“Fire?” You cocked an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed to nibble on your food. You were almost too nervous to eat with your ever-knotted stomach.

Dottie gifted you a warm smile. “Yeah, I’ve heard how you talk to him. I also overheard what you said that night about me at dinner. You stood up for me. Just wanted to repay the favor.”

Your lips hiked a smile. “You’re welcome. And thank you… again.”

Your head bobbed, your fingers playing with a piece of bread roll. You were unsure if you should be flattered you were considered special or uncomfortable with the apparently long list of girls that had waltzed through this house.

Dottie seemed to notice your unease and plopped down on the mattress next to you. “Anyway, I thought you might need someone to talk to. We all like you, you know? The whole house. Especially George. He thinks you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met. You’re different.” She shrugged and sent you another encouraging smile.

Cheeks blushing, you swallowed thickly and met her gaze. “So, things are tense downstairs?”

“Oh, yeah. The old man is furious because Grace’s father called him in upset, saying his daughter had been crying all night because of what Benjamin did to her,” Dottie told you and rolled her eyes back, scoffing. “All fake, of course. Charlotte, the maid of the Du Pont’s, said she was completely fine and consoling herself with one of the Kennedy boys when they were visiting in Cape Cod.”

“Whoa, hold on…” You vividly shook your spinning head and held up a hand, blinking at Dottie’s waterfall of information. “Du Pont? As in the chemical industry empire?”

“That’s the one,” Dottie sang in bitter nonchalance, a bit of judgment swinging in her voice. She clearly wasn’t a fan of the people she worked for – the elite families that not only excluded people like her and you but also disregarded you as human beings altogether.

“And you guys talk among each other? I mean, the staff?”

Dottie snorted a laugh, heavily nodding. “Yes, we gossip a lot. These people always think they’re better than us, but they got more shit on them than you can find in a pigsty.”

You weren’t as shocked by the revelation as you probably should’ve been. In this house, the gossip was as much a part of the walls as the portraits and velvet curtains.

“And Grace got with a Kennedy?” you asked, not resisting the curiosity bubbling inside of you and seeing Dottie nod. “Which one?”

“I think it was the oldest – Jack,” she replied.

You gaped at her. “John F. Kennedy?!”

Dottie giggled at your reaction. “Yes, I believe so. Do you know him, too?”

Innocently, you pursed your lips and shook your head. “No, no, not all. Just heard of him, you know?”

Jesus fuck, Kennedy might have gotten around as much as Soldier Boy. And if those rumors of The Legend were true, did Soldier Boy kill the future president for personal reasons?

Now you understood why the Kennedy assassination had attracted so many conspiracy theories. Well, you could check, theoretically, and see for yourself…

Nope. Don’t open that Pandora’s box!

“Look,” Dottie said after a pause, chewing softly on her lower lip in thought, “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little cold toward you. It’s not personal. I just don’t like the way Ben’s been acting recently. It’s... complicated.”

Your brows drew together as you watched the young woman next to you. “Complicated?”

She let out a dry laugh. “Honestly, complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it. You don’t know the half of it. You’re not the only one who feels out of place here, you know?”

“What d’you mean?”

Dottie leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate tone. “Ben’s a good guy, but he’s got a bit of a soft spot for… the wrong things. Florence talks about him like he’s still that little boy who needs his daddy’s approval. I know how it happened, you know – how he ended up with Grace? It wasn’t his idea. It was his father’s. And you know what? Grace wasn’t exactly an unwilling participant in that either. She begged her father to arrange the engagement.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You’d known about Grace, but you’d never heard the full story. “She begged?”

Dottie’s lips twisted into something halfway between a grimace and a smile. “Yeah, she begged,” she confirmed, hazel eyes glinting with a mixture of bitterness and amusement. “She thought she could change his mind, get him to fall for her. They had a fling, sure, but she knew Ben didn’t want her like that. They had a big argument about it a few days before. She stormed off, screaming he’d regret it.”

The weight of Dottie’s words pressed down on you, but before you could respond, she carried on.

“His father then announced the engagement at one of his parties here before even telling Ben about it. I mean, he didn’t even ask,” Dottie shared in exasperation. “Ben couldn’t stand it, so he rebelled in the only way he knew how. He found me, we got drunk and pissed off and then ended up in a closet together,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone flat and almost casual, but you could hear the bitter undertones of a scorned woman. “Ben had always been nice to me, you know? We’d gotten along, so when he came to me that night, I thought it was different. But he started ignoring me after. Couldn’t look at me – like I didn’t even exist... So yeah, I guess you could say I’m a little mad at him.”

You hesitated, studying Dottie’s face, looking for any hint of malice. But there was none – just brutal honesty. And you knew what this was by now. Just like Florence on your first day here, Dottie was warning you before you stepped off the ledge and fell.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Dottie said when you still sat in silence, “I’m not trying to paint him as a bad guy. I’m telling you because I care, alright? I just think you should know what’s going on around here. Ben’s got his demons, and his family is a nightmare. He can’t escape what his father’s set up for him. He’s got a leash on Ben, and the pressure’s never going to let up.”

Her words cut through the haze of your thoughts like a sharp blade. You nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. You’d seen bits of that pressure already.

“No, I get it. I appreciate it, Dottie. Thank you,” you said softly. “But Ben’s not like his father. At least, he doesn’t have to be.”

Dottie shrugged, as if the truth was somewhere in between. “Maybe. But Mr. Brooks got a tight grip on him. The kind of grip that can make anyone do things they don’t want to. Even Ben.”

A pang of sympathy reminded you of Florence’s story once more – and all the other cruel acts you’d witnessed in your dreams. Were you blind or just foolish for believing he could change the path he was on?

“Ben’s not as immune to his father as he pretends to be. He’s not as strong as he thinks. Don’t get it twisted. His father’s got his claws in him,” Dottie emphasized. “You’re not the first distraction Ben’s found. Just-… be careful, alright? You don’t know what you’re getting into, but if you’re going to be a part of it–,” she paused, her eyes flicking back to your scattered clothes all over the bed, “–you better be sure about it.”

“Thank you, Dottie.” You nodded with a heavy lump in your throat.

She gently clasped your hand on the bed in a comforting manner and then sent you a kind smile, pulling out a deck of cards from the pockets of her apron. “How about we distract you for a little while, huh? You know how to play Gin Rummy?”

Your lips rose to a smile. “I haven’t played before, but I’m willing to learn.”

Dottie giggled, shuffling the cards in her hands. “Alright, how about I teach you the rules if you tell me about college?”

“Deal.” You grinned.

The clock read past midnight, the only sound coming from the shuffle of cards and the occasional giggles and whispered stories between you and Dottie. The minutes stretched on as you tried to forget what was happening downstairs, Dottie’s words of warning still running on a loop through your mind.

It couldn’t be a good sign that two people in this house have warned you now, could it? Shouldn’t you listen at some point?

An abrupt knock at the door ripped the two of you from your game and disrupted the fragile peace, Dottie’s eyes widening in panic. You both knew who it was.

“Shit,” Dottie muttered and hurried to gather the cards from the bed, stuffing them back into her apron. She hid in a blind corner of the room as you moved to answer the door, not opening it more than a crack.

“Hey,” you said softly and feigned an innocent smile as you met Ben’s gaze, noticing immediately he wasn’t alright. His usually shining emerald eyes carried a glaze, his smile turning lopsided as he took you in with a leer, but the distinct smell of whiskey that clung to him like a second skin was the dead giveaway.

“You’re still awake. I was hoping you’d be. Came to check up on you, sweetheart.” He smirked with shaky pupils.

Before you could stop him, he stumbled forward into the room on unsteady legs and fell straight into your arms. His large hands found purchase on your hips, dragging you closer against his body. He captured your lips, eager, hungry, and with a sloppiness that told you he had a few glasses too many.

You were close to pushing him away, hands already softly pressing against his chest before noticing Dottie trying to sneak past him, so you deepened the kiss instead, your arms winding around his neck, causing a groan to rumble through him. But on her last step, the door creaked on its hinges, and Dottie froze as Ben’s head snapped up.

Glassy eyes wide, he warily turned to the young maid, brow wrinkling into more creases than a crumpled letter. “Dottie? The fuck are you doing here?”

You placed your hand on his arm, forcing him to look at you and ground him at the same time. “She-, uh, she brought me dinner. Florence sent her. She didn’t want me to starve. You know how she gets about food,” you deflected with a giggle.

“Right.” Ben nodded, eyes flickering back and forth between Dottie and you.

“And you know, I guess I got a little nervous, so she’s been keeping me company. We’ve been playing cards,” you added with a reassuring smile, already anticipating his next question as you watched the cogs in his head turn.

“Oh.” Ben licked his lips for a moment and then looked at Dottie. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dottie said, sending you a quick look of gratefulness.

“And, uhm, Dottie?” Upon Ben’s call, Dottie halted in the doorway, shoulders tense on her way to freedom. “I’m sorry…” he said, surprising you both as you shared a raised look with the maid. “About what-, uhm… what happened, you know?”

“It’s-, uh, it’s okay,” she replied, eyes flicking toward you, clearly unsure of how to respond. You gave a slight shake of your head, and she subtly cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s not okay… but I-, I forgive you.”

You gave her a quick thumbs up, and as Ben looked over his shoulder at you, brow knitted in suspicion, Dottie quickly fled down the hall and closed the door behind her.

Yeah, you might’ve been coaching her a little in those last few hours on how to deal with assholes like him in the future (which you realized was super ironic). But if you couldn’t save yourself from that man’s charm, at least you could save the rest of your gender.

“Didn’t know you and Dottie were friends,” Ben noted, turning his full attention to you now.

“Oh, uhm, it’s a new thing,” you said quickly, and it wasn’t even a lie. You gave a shrug of your shoulders. “I like her.”

“Yeah? What’s she been whispering into your ear, huh?” His voice was rough, his fingers gentle as they brushed along your cheek.

“She didn’t say anything, okay?”

Ben’s lips curled, clearly not believing you. “You know, I didn’t mean to… hurt her.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt those people.”

“Heard that one before,” you muttered, scoffing under your breath. You averted your eyes to the floor, the motion causing Ben’s hand to drop from your face.

“What?” There was no anger in his voice, only confusion.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to look at him. “‘Cause you’re not a bad guy, right?” you said a little louder, feeling the drops of venom like castor oil on your tongue.

And Ben picked up on it, his brows drawing together, facial muscles twitching as he tried to solve what triggered the change in mood. What happened between now and the moment you’d shared in the drawing room only a few hours ago?

You knew you were being indecisive. You knew you were being unfair. But you couldn’t let go of that feeling. That tiny, tingling thing that kept gnawing at every bit inside of you. The feeling that kept screaming at you that something was amiss. It was there – right there.

And you still couldn’t fucking grasp it.

Ben contemplated, then smacked his lips, taking a step closer to you and ironing out his brow a little. “No, I-… Well, I’m no Boy Scout, but you know me.”

Your mouth opened and closed, lips trembling. You didn’t know how to respond. He was both right and wrong. But it all sounded too fucking familiar. It was that maddening feeling of déjà vu all over again.

One long stride of bow legs, and Ben was only mere inches away from you, warm palms cupping your cheeks like you were a precious gift, rough thumbs stroking along your cheekbones, and hot breath tickling your skin like a whispered breeze in summer heat. You melted in his grasp in a matter of seconds like an ice cube on hot asphalt.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier,” he said, deep voice only a low murmur against the shell of your ear as he tucked a strand of hair behind it, careful like you could break in his hold. “Just hadn’t exactly broken the news yet that you’re staying here, y’know?”

“Ben–” You sighed, trying to clear the fog from your mind with a shake of your head.

“But I did now, okay?” he cut through that first brick in your wall of defense. The tip of his nose dragged against yours, coaxing. “I want you here, alright?” His lips ghosted over yours, a faint brush, barely there but enough to make you feel the heat crawling into your lower belly. “Had kind of a rough night. Thought you could make me feel better.”

He claimed your lips with a bruising force before he’d even breathed out his last word. The scent of expensive whiskey and nicotine enveloped you and clouded your mind. He smelled like he drank a liquor store and smoked a pack, but you couldn’t resist the pull – the desire, the chemistry. Your head was floating, but doubt still kept your feet tethered to the ground.

“Ben, don’t,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered despite your efforts. “Not like this. You’re drunk.”

“Don’t give a damn. Maybe I need to be drunk to feel something real for once. I need this. Need you,” he muttered, words slurred, voice rough.

He leaned in then, plump lips sinfully trailing down the column of your throat. The world seemed to stop spinning on its axis, your heart racing in your chest as he slid his hand to the back of your neck, tugging you closer.

For a moment, you gave in and almost let yourself go, forgetting every drop of worry and fear that plagued your mind. His hands moved to your waist, grip tightening as he pushed you flush against his blazing body. But the blinking red alarm inside of you reminded you of the lines you didn’t want to cross.

“Ben…” Your hands pushed against his chest, gentle but firm.

He stopped then, breathing ragged and confusion gleaming in the lush green of his eyes. His gaze drifted to your face, lingering there, as if searching for something he wasn’t sure he’d find. “I want you. Don’t you want me too, hm?”

The air thickened around you, sharp and overwhelming, threatening to suffocate you as you wrung for words. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, heavy against the soft, pink flesh. His pull was magnetic, his need evident.

“I don’t wanna be just another distraction for you,” you said quietly, voice shaking slightly, heart hammering in your throat. You tried to sound firm, but the way his eyes held you made your breath hitch.

Ben stepped back, hurt flashing across his freckled face like you’d just knocked the wind right out of him. His presence felt too large in the room, his emotions pressing down on you.

“A distraction?” His eyes hardened, his expression twisting with frustration and something darker. “That what you think you are? What Dottie told you? She’s been filling your head with this shit, hasn’t she?”

You flinched at the mention of Dottie’s name, not wanting to drag her into your mess. You hesitated with a thick swallow, tension creeping into your shoulders. “It’s not about her.”

“Damn right, it isn’t,” Ben huffed, shaking his head. And then, his eyes landed on the bed – on your clothes spread out, half-packed. He froze, demeanor shifting immediately, color draining from his face. “What the hell is going on here? Are you fucking leaving me?” The baritone voice was suddenly sharp now, carrying an edge that cut through the haze of his drunkenness.

“I don’t wanna cause more trouble for you,” you confessed quietly, panic rising in your chest.

“So that’s it? Just like that? You’re just gonna fucking walk out on me?” His voice was jagged with emotion, gripping a handful of his hair in disbelief.

“No, but I-… I don’t belong here, okay?” you argued, your tone laced with desperation. What else could you say?

“Dammit, you think I don’t fucking know that?” His jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, there was an unsettling silence between you two. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck Dottie told you, but this-… this isn’t some game to me. You think I do this with everyone? That I’m using you because I’m bored? That I’m just some spoiled rich kid who gets whatever I want?” He stared at you, disappointment, incredulity, and betrayal swimming in his eyes.

You shook your head, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage. “I didn’t say that. But Ben... I don’t know what I am to you… what this is.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He scoffed bitterly, running a hand through the disheveled, dirty blond locks. “I’ve told you things… things I’ve never told anyone before. I’ve let you into parts of my life that I don’t show anyone else.”

“I know. I just–”

But Ben cut you off, his frustration spilling over. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. And this is how you repay me? By fucking running away? You’re not walking out on me. Not like this.”

Your heart stuttered, the words cutting deep and tightening your chest, aware he was right in a way, knowing he’d put himself on the line for you – more than you’d ever expected him to. But you couldn’t ignore the doubts that rose inside you.

“I’m scared, okay?” you admitted, your voice only a whisper, and it made his eyes soften slightly. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Ben shook his head, huffing a humorless laugh, almost amused. “Oh, you think I can’t be trusted? That I haven’t given you enough reason to?” He stepped closer, his look pointed. “Kinda ironic, don’t you think? I don’t even know your real name. I don’t know a fucking thing about you, and yet, here you are, accusing me of being dishonest. You really think I’ve been fucking lying to you?"

You didn't respond. Silence.

"If you want to walk away, then go. But don’t you dare tell me you’re just a distraction. That’s insulting. I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I’ve given you everything I can, and you think I’m just trying to fuck around?”

You stood there, speechless, caught between the weight of his words and the fear that still clawed at your heart. Ben stepped closer again, his features softening just slightly, as if trying to calm the storm inside both of you. The promise of something more, something different with him, tore at the part of you that had been holding back.

“How do you know I’m the right person for you? You don’t even know what you want. And you’re right, you know? You don’t know me. Not in the way it matters. Not in the way you should,” you said, barely above a trembling whisper, the tears pricking your eyes.

“Then tell me,” he demanded, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Tell me who you are. Tell me your real name. Anything, really.”

Your breath caught in your throat, head shaking. “I can’t. I never meant to keep things from you, but I can’t tell you either. I’m sorry.”

Ben rubbed his mouth with his fingers, head bobbing in thought. “Look, maybe I haven’t made my intentions clear enough with you, but I care about you. I don’t know everything, but I know that I want you. I want this. All of it. The whole damn mess, alright?”

The raw emotion in his voice made you falter, but you couldn’t let yourself be swayed. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be telling the truth. That there was something worth fighting for here. The vulnerability in his green eyes made your knees weak, cracking both his armor and your walls.

Ben stared at you for a long moment, the hurt, confusion, and anger warring on his face. Then, without warning, he took a step toward you, closing the space between you two for good, and you swore you could even feel his wildly beating heart in his chest. He searched your face for something, a connection to hold onto, his hands slightly outstretched like he was reaching for you.

“Maybe it’s not meant to be.” The words stung as they left you, the first tear slipping down your cheek.

Ben’s resolve crumbled then and there. He pulled you into his embrace, softly kissing the top of your head as you sobbed into his chest. And then he just held you like this for a moment. You’d never felt fucking safer while your heart was breaking.

“Hey, look at me.” Gently, he lifted your chin, wiping your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t want to change things?” He held your gaze, eyes intense as the weight of his words hung between you. “I can’t just walk away from everything, but I’m trying. I swear, I’m trying to figure this all out, but you have to let me.”

“How?” Your voice cracked, the fear of getting too close, of falling too hard threatening to crush you.

Ben cupped your cheeks, the kiss on your temple an oath. “I’ll make it work, okay? I don’t know what else to say, but I promise I will. I’ll find a way out of all this... for both of us. But I need you here. I need you with me. I can’t do this alone. I don’t wanna go back to that life without you in it. I just need you to trust me, okay? I need you to believe in me.”

You could see it then, clear as day – he was afraid of losing you, the desperation brimming in the green seas of his eyes. You were his lifeline, the last thing that held his head above water and kept him from drowning in his father.

“I swear I’ll take you with me, wherever that it is. I’ll take care of you. I’ll fight for you. I’ll protect you. All I need is a little more time. Can you give that to me? Can you do that?”

The heaviness of a decision almost decimated you, but for the first time since you’d entered his world, the fear of losing him was stronger than the fear of staying.

You nodded, hesitantly at first before it became stronger – certain. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll stay.”

The space between you evaporated then as he closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours with a force that left you breathless. His mouth was desperate, clinging to the assurance that you were still here. Still with him.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss – it was everything. It was apology and regret. It was yearning. It was fear.

Ben was kissing you like he never wanted to lose you again, as if each second was a prayer that you’d stay. He pulled you even closer, his hands threading through your hair, his body so tightly against yours like he was trying to make sure you were real. To make sure he hadn’t just imagined this moment.

You melted into him, your hands gripping his shirt, your heart beating faster than it had in days, weeks, months, maybe years. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, as if he was trying to tell you everything in the language of touch, in the frantic meeting of lips and breath – everything he could never say out loud.

You felt the warmth of his skin, the blazing heat of him, and you realized you both were clinging to the fragile thread that held you together, afraid to let go.

When he pulled back, both of you panting, there was a quiet between you that spoke louder than any words ever could. His eyes searched yours, his thumb caressing your cheek, forehead resting against yours.

Ben licked his lips, still holding onto you as he shut his eyes for a beat, his chest still rising and falling with the remnants of the kiss. “Look, uhm, I hate doing this to you right now, but my father wants me to leave with him for two weeks,” he told you, voice heavy with exhaustion before a dark scoff escaped him. “Wants to show me how business is really done.”

You cupped his cheeks softly, looking up at him. “Don’t let him get to you, okay? You’re smarter than him.”

Ben’s lips twitched with a small smile, nodding like he understood. “My mother’s staying here with you, but don’t worry about it. I doubt she’ll bother you. She doesn’t really care about anything. I told them you’re a friend from school, so just go with that.”

“What school did you go to?”

“Choate. It’s in Connecticut,” Ben replied, a hint of amusement in his smile, noticing how carefully you were solidifying your alibi. “But it’s an all-boys school. You would’ve gone to Rosemary Hall.”

You grimaced. “So, total sausage fest, huh?”

Ben snorted a loud laugh, throwing his head back. “Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart.” He chuckled and pulled you against his chest, resting his chin on top of your head. “You know, sometimes I wonder what school taught you all those words.”

You giggled, burying your face into his dress shirt. “Oh, college taught me those. You would know if you’d gone.”

“Ouch.” A deep and amused laugh rumbled through his chest.

“Didn’t John Kennedy attend Choate as well?”

Ben’s head tilted slightly. You could feel the movement atop of yours. “How do you know Jack?” He inched back slightly, peering down at you with a raised look. “Something you wanna tell me, sweetheart?”

You snorted into his chest, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that, I swear. I just heard of him.”

“Oh, so it was just me you were immune to, huh?” Ben retorted, but you recognized the playfulness in his voice. It was your favorite side of him.

“Guess so,” you teased, giggling.

“Well, thank fucking God you didn’t sleep with him,” Ben muttered as he tightened his arms around you. “I hate that guy. Total fucking pussy.”

“Didn’t he graduate Harvard?” you muttered, feeling Ben’s jaw grind on top of your head. Yeah, you weren’t doing JFK any favors now.

“Well, he didn’t make it into the Army. I can tell you that much,” Ben blew right past your point, making you stifle a chuckle. “Heard he got a placement in the Navy, though.”

“Huh. Kinda sexy,” you quipped. Teasing. “He’ll probably learn a lot of sailor talk.”

Ben’s lips pursed in amusement as he looked down at you and was met with your grin. “Yeah, also probably gonna be a real sausage fest on that boat.”

You let out a crippling laugh, burying yourself in his chest as he joined you. Of course he’d only learn the things you didn’t want him to learn.

Ben’s fingers then snuck under your chin, lifting your lips to meet his. The kiss was soft, gentle – a goodbye. “You’re gonna be okay here?”

You nodded reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be here when you come back.”

Ben didn’t say anything, but his Adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow, eyes gleaming with a mixture of relief and gratitude before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was a tender, almost reverent gesture, and it made your heart swell.

Exhaling a long breath, he let go of you and turned to leave, his shoulders slumping more with every step he took toward the life he didn’t want. He paused at the door, his hand on the knob, and for a moment, he seemed smaller, more fragile, like the weight of everything he’d been holding in was finally starting to break him.

“I’ll never stop fighting for you,” he said with conviction as he looked at you one last time, raspy voice laden with words he couldn’t say. A promise. “Never.”

And deep down, you knew then that no matter how hard things would get over the next decades, you’d never let go, either.

The door closed for the last time that night, and then, Ben was gone.

The mansion felt quieter the next morning, Ben having left with his father for DC before the break of dawn. After getting dressed properly for breakfast for once, you descended the grand staircase, your footsteps quiet on the polished wooden floors.

You spied Margaret Brooks, Ben’s mother, sitting in the sunroom, but before entering, you decided to make a quick pit stop in the kitchen, where the faint murmurs of the staff seeped through the door.

As you stepped inside, the three women were busy at their tasks. Florence was bent over a pot on the stove, her movements brisk and efficient. Dottie was humming to herself as she arranged flowers on the counter. Frances, a bit more weathered and stern, was dusting the shelves, her eyes darting disapprovingly at Dottie, who had a tendency to daydream more than work.

“Good morning, ladies,” you said softly, your voice low enough not to carry too far.

“No breakfast in the kitchen, young lady,” Florence reminded you swiftly, which you countered with a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry, Florence. I’ll be outta your hair in a minute,” you said, making Dottie snort a giggle. “Just-… Before I go in there, can you guys give me the down-low on Mrs. Brooks?”

“The down-low?” Frances cocked a brow at you.

“Yes, the details,” you corrected. Half of your vocabulary was practically useless in 1942. “What’s her deal? Why is she so… withdrawn?”

After Dottie’s revelation last night, you thought you might as well make use of the love for gossip in this house.

Florence didn’t look up from the stove, her hands moving quickly with purpose. “She’s always been quiet,” she replied, her voice neutral but not unkind. “But over the years... well, she shut herself off. Hard to blame her. Her husband isn’t a good man, not to her or to Benjamin.”

Dottie, who had been nervously twisting the flower stems in her hands, let out a little sigh. “Yeah, Mr. Brooks is awful. He treats her like she doesn’t matter. And now she’s kind of… well, I think she just gave up. You know, stopped trying.”

Frances, who had been listening intently, fixed Dottie with a sharp look. “Not everything is so simple, Dottie. Mrs. Brooks has always been a lady – always. She’s tried for years, but the man she married–” She sighed, her voice dropping. “It broke her. And now she watches the boy becoming just like him. It’s no wonder she retreats.”

You could feel the undercurrent of sadness in the house, a grief that wasn’t just tied to the past but to the present, too.

“I see,” you said quietly, your mind racing as you thought of what you could do. You glanced at the three women. “Well, I think I’ll go see if I can say hi to Mrs. Brooks this morning. She must be lonely.”

Florence gave you a distracted nod, her attention still on her cooking. Dottie shot you a hopeful look, while Frances simply grunted in acknowledgment, not sure how much help you’d be.

You sauntered into the sunroom, the air cool inside and the glass panes still thick with the chill of winter. Outside, patches of snow clung stubbornly to the ground, a few spots melting into sluggish pools. However, along the edges of the garden, the first hint of spring dared to show – croci pushing up through the soil, small and defiant against the lingering cold as they waited for the thaw.

It only reminded you of how long you’d already been here. It felt like an entirely different life at this point. Had Ben been serious last night? And what did it even all mean?

He said a lot, but you weren’t sure your head woke up any clearer this morning.

The future was an unknown, and you weren’t used to that feeling.

As you entered, Mrs. Brooks sat at the small round table by the window, her face drawn, her green eyes distant as she stared into the steam rising from her cup of tea. She didn’t seem to notice you at first, and when she finally lifted her gaze, it was with a quiet recognition.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brooks,” you said, smiling softly. “I’m not sure if your son has mentioned me. I’m a friend from school. Benjamin’s been kind enough to let me stay here for a while.”

“Oh, I believe he mentioned something like that, yes,” she said in a soft, tired voice, her lips curling just slightly at the corners. “You’ll have to excuse me. I wasn’t listening to everything last night. I was quite exhausted after the long travel, and that boy never knows when to stop.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. Ben does have a way of going on, doesn’t he?” You smiled gently at her words and sat down across from her. “Ben did tell me a little bit about all your wonderful tea parties, though. He said you liked going to tea rooms as well. What are they like? I have to admit I’ve never been to one myself.”

At the mere mention, Mrs. Brooks’ posture seemed to shift ever so slightly. Her eyes sparkled, and you saw something like life stir behind them, as if your words had opened a door she hadn’t realized was there.

“Oh, tea rooms,” she repeated, her voice soft and reflective. “I used to love them. So charming. So civilized, you know? A proper place to spend the afternoon with a good cup of tea. I haven’t been to one in ages, not since...”

She trailed off, her gaze becoming distant again, but then something changed – her eyes brightened just a little, like a light flickering on.

“You’ve never been?” she asked, her tone a mixture of surprise and mild disbelief. You shook your head. “Oh, my dear, it’s almost a must for a young lady to experience. A proper tea room, with all the delicate china and the soft music in the background – it’s simply marvelous.” She sat up straighter in her chair then, the flicker of a genuine smile appearing on her lips. “I should take you, shouldn’t I? There’s one in the city I adored. It’s been years since I’ve gone, but I’m sure it’s just as lovely as it was. Would you like to go? This afternoon, perhaps?”

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope inside of you, seeing that flicker of light in her. “I’d love that. Thank you, Mrs. Brooks,” you said with a warm smile.

“How wonderful! Then it’s settled. We’ll go!” She clasped her hands together with joy. “Do you have something to wear? I could call my seamstress, Ms. Vivian, for you.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. Benjamin already did that,” you replied, hoping for dear life you didn’t have to endure another makeover. You were already sacrificing yourself like a lamb for slaughter by agreeing to this.

“Well, good.” She nodded and sipped on her tea, muttering, “Seems like I’ve done something right with that boy, after all…”

Well, judging by that statement, you were surely in for an interesting afternoon.

The soft tinkling of porcelain cups and quiet chatter filled the air of the elegant, well-lit tea room as Margaret Brooks looked across the table at you, her plump lips curling into a rare smile. She had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed these outings – the delicate atmosphere of the tea room, the soft hum of conversation. She had imagined, for so many years, that one day she would have a daughter to share these moments with.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t come to pass.

Instead, you sat across from her, eager eyes wide as you took in the ambiance. Mrs. Brooks noticed the nervousness in your posture, the way you clutched your teacup a little too tightly and stared at the other girls, feeling utterly out of place.

“Isn’t it charming?” Mrs. Brooks said, her voice light, almost affectionate. “I’ve been coming here for years. There’s something about the smell of the Earl Grey and the clink of silver spoons that makes you forget the world outside. You’ll grow to love it, I’m sure.”

You gave a nervous nod, your lips curving upward in an awkward imitation of a smile. “I’m not really used to places like this.”

You hesitated, glancing around the room at the white-gloved waitstaff and the carefully arranged plates of scones and finger sandwiches, wondering how many distractions Ben had found here and hoping you wouldn’t run into any of them. You could certainly feel the occasional looks and quiet whispers directed at you.

Mrs. Brooks chuckled softly, her gaze warm as she met your eyes. “One gets used to it. It's like breathing. I’ve been doing this for years, and there's nothing wrong with forgetting the world in here, just for a moment.” She leaned in slightly, her tone dropping conspiratorially. “Don’t be nervous, Cindy. It’s only tea and gossip, and we all need a little of both.”

Something in Mrs. Brooks’ tone calmed you slightly. It was as though she was slowly pulling you into her orbit – offering more than just a tea outing, but a sense of belonging, of understanding.

“Look over there,” Mrs. Brooks continued, gesturing subtly with her gloved hand, clearly eager to share more. “Do you see that woman sitting by the window? That’s Mrs. Berwick. She’s very fond of trying to climb the social ladder, always inserting herself into the right circles. Her husband’s a banker, but don’t let that fool you – he’s a dreadful bore."

You snorted a laugh and leaned in, intrigued despite yourself. You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Mrs. Brooks had a certain warmth now that softened her more formal edges.

“And there,” she carried on, “that’s Mrs. Hadley. She’s got more money than God, but she’s also got a tongue that can cut glass. No one dares to cross her, but I’ve never cared much for her. She’s the type who never forgets a slight.”

“Seems like they all have their… quirks,” you noted, amused, remembering Dottie’s words.

“Quirks,” Mrs. Brooks repeated with a smile. “Yes, one might call them that.” Her eyes twinkled as she leaned in closer to you, lowering her voice. “But there’s one thing they all have in common: They love to gossip. It’s their favorite pastime. And I’m sure,” she added, giving you a knowing look, “they’ll be more than eager to talk about you.” You stiffened, but Mrs. Brooks, oblivious to your discomfort, sipped her tea and continued. “Don’t mind them. They’re all still talking about Benjamin, I’m sure. The whole lot of them think they have some sort of claim on him. But they don’t, do they?”

At her little wink, your heart almost dropped to the sparkling marble floor. Did she know? But you figured it was easy to suspect if she knew her son even a little.

“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Brooks! I haven’t seen you here in ages.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the familiar voice. You’d heard it once before, even if it had been louder and more upset than now.

Grace.

Mrs. Brooks’ expression flickered momentarily before settling into something more controlled. “Grace, dear,” she said with a polite smile, turning her head toward the speaker. Her tone was cool, masking any warmth. “You’re looking well.”

Your stomach dropped when you saw the woman standing at the table: tall, blonde, impeccably dressed in a way that screamed money and status – poised and perfect. By now, you’d heard plenty about Ben’s destined fiancée, but seeing her in person was another matter.

Her blonde hair was sculpted into a flawless wave. She wore an elegant dress with the subtle sheen of luxury and a sharp gaze that seemed to take in every detail of you with calculating precision.

Grace gave a sly smile, icy blue eyes flickering to you. “I couldn’t resist coming by. I simply had to see Benjamin’s current project.” She tilted her head slightly, a deliberate gesture, and leaned down to examine you like you were a specimen under a microscope. “Interesting choice.”

Did that bitch just call you a fucking project?!

You didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, however. You’d been dealing with bitches like that your whole life. The only tragedy about this was that you couldn’t rant about her to your friends – the hot blonde, the gay redhead, and the mute Asian chick.

Fuck. Why the hell couldn’t you remember their names? You swore they were on the tip of your tongue. Was it Andy, Mabel, and Kim? No, that sounded wrong. Dammit!

“I think I’ve seen you before, right? And you are?” Grace asked, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness as she looked at you.

“Cindy,” you replied with a slight edge.

“Ah, Cindy,” Grace repeated, like she was tasting the name. “Such a... simple name. How quaint.” She smiled then, a thin, shark-like smirk, and you were blood in the water. “I must say, I’m surprised to see you out and about. Benjamin has always been so... difficult to predict. But I suppose you already know that, don’t you?”

Unbothered by her baiting, you took a casual sip of tea. “Oh, I know exactly who he is, Grace. Better than you.”

Grace’s smile tightened. “How refreshing,” she said, then looked over at Mrs. Brooks. “I do hope Benjamin’s settled down by now. I hear he’s been a bit of a... free spirit lately. He always had a rebellious streak. He gets bored rather quickly.”

Mrs. Brooks stiffened slightly, but she recovered quickly, placing her teacup down with a slight clink. “My son is a grown man, dear. He’ll make his own decisions, as he always does.”

“Of course,” Grace replied smoothly, though there was a clear, sharp edge to her words.

“‘Sides, aren’t you a bit of a free spirit as well?” you quipped with an innocent smirk. “I heard about you and Jack Kennedy in Cape Cod. How’s that going?”

“Oh, you are seeing Jack?” Margaret chimed in with delight, but you could tell her smile was as taunting as yours was.

Grace’s face fell abruptly. “Yes, it’s… going,” she replied quickly, subtly clearing her throat. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips twisting into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she leaned in, her tone almost too sweet. “I imagine you must be enjoying the novelty of being with someone like Benjamin. Here you are, in the lap of luxury. It’s a bit of a thrill, isn’t it, darling? But you know, I should warn you – Ben isn’t exactly the most reliable partner. I do hope, for your sake, you’re not just a phase.”

You were about to slap her harder than she’d slapped Ben at that diner. Would it matter to history if you choked her right now?

You forced a tight-lipped smile as you ground your teeth. “Thank you for the warning, but I’m not here to judge him for his past.”

If anything, you were judging him for his future.

“Well, that’s nice,” Grace pressed through her teeth, her polite mask finally crumbling. “But you don’t get it, do you? You’re just the latest distraction, darling. Someone to amuse himself with, and as soon as this little rebellion ends, he’ll come crawling back to someone who knows the rules, and you’ll be just another notch in his belt.”

Jesus fucking Christ, why did he always have to date the biggest bitch in the room? And you’d once thought Crimson Countess was a piece of work.

But you grew up in a trailer park in fucking Jersey. If a girl like Grace thought she could scare you off with a few words, she had another thing coming.

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” You looked at her challengingly, not an ounce of fear in your voice. “Here’s the thing – Ben’s not a puppet for his father. He makes his own choices. You’re not his future, Grace. You’re the past. Trust me on that one.”

Grace’s eyes blazed with a venomous glare. “Well, we’ll see how long this lasts, darling. I do hope you won’t make a fool out of yourself.”

You were about to open your mouth again before Mrs. Brooks cut in, her tone suddenly sharp, a protective edge in her voice. “Enough, Grace. We all know about Benjamin’s history. You’ve made your point, and it’s getting tiresome.”

Grace’s eyes fixed on Ben’s mother, a muscle twitching in her jaw. She clearly hadn’t expected that. “Well, it’s so lovely to see you two getting along. I mustn’t take up too much of your time, Mrs. Brooks. It was nice running into you both. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”

With that, Grace stormed off, her heels clicking on the sparkling marble. You exhaled a slow breath, slumping back into your chair. But as you glanced at Mrs. Brooks, you saw the faintest glimmer of approval in her eyes.

“You handled her beautifully, dear,” Ben’s mother said, her tone soft but genuine. “Don’t let women like her make you question yourself. They thrive on making others doubt their worth, but you’ve got something she doesn’t – confidence and a damn backbone.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Brooks,” you said, your heart swelling with gratitude. “That woman really knows how to lay it on thick, doesn’t she?”

Mrs. Brooks rolled her eyes in exhaustion. “She’s always been like that. Charming when it suits her and venomous when she feels threatened. I’m almost glad Benjamin’s been so awful to her. God knows I couldn’t have endured another dinner with that girl in my house.”

You snorted under your breath, chuckling.

“You know, I was just like you when I first arrived here – someone who didn’t quite fit in.” Margaret leaned back in her chair with a faint smile, the faraway look in her eyes sharpening, a subtle sadness creeping into her voice. “Before I met Benjamin’s father, I came from humble beginnings, you know? My parents were good, hardworking people. We didn’t have much money – just a small house in the lower part of town. My father was a carpenter, working long hours, and my mother would sew clothes for other people, often staying up well past midnight, just to make sure we had enough to get by. But there was a beauty in that simplicity. I used to take walks through the alleys, admiring the flowers growing between the cracks in the sidewalks. We didn't have wealth, but we had love, you know? And we had each other.”

You listened intently, your heart breaking a bit for her, knowing that wasn’t what she had now with her own family.

“I remember,” she continued, a slight smile tugging at her lips, “how we’d all gather in the kitchen at night. It was small, but it was ours. My mother would hum while she worked, and my father would tell me stories about how he built his first house with his own two hands. He was proud of that. And I was proud of him.”

You couldn’t help but notice the way Mrs. Brooks’ voice softened when she spoke about her parents. There was a sadness there, a longing for something simple and real that had been lost somewhere along the way.

“I can’t imagine you like that. It sounds so different from who you are now,” you said softly.

Mrs. Brooks gave a gentle laugh, her gaze growing even more distant. “I was just a girl back then. I had no idea what awaited me. But when I met Richard, everything changed.” She paused, her voice darkening slightly as she pushed away the memories of her childhood, like the warmth they brought was something she couldn’t bear to hold on to for too long. “He was everything I’d never known. He was wealthy, educated, and had the kind of connections that I could only dream of. He swept me off my feet. He promised me a life of comfort, luxury, and security. And I thought, ‘This is it. This is everything I’ve been working for.’”

Your brow furrowed. “But it wasn’t?”

Mrs. Brooks shook her head slowly, the distant melancholy returning to her features. “At first, it was. But over time, I realized something. The life Richard offered me was a gilded cage. It wasn’t freedom – it was control. I was expected to fit in, to play the part. When I married him, I entered a world where every inch of my life was dictated by money, status, and image. It’s strange how quickly you can forget yourself when you're surrounded by wealth. People like this–,” she gestured with a faint nod around the room, “–don’t care about character. They care about who you know, where you’ve been, and what you wear. And even then, it’s never enough. You always have to be more.” She leaned forward then, her expression softening as she saw you swallowing thickly. “I know it sounds harsh, dear, but it’s the truth. High society is an illusion. People want you to smile, to wear the right clothes, to speak in a certain way, but it’s all just a performance. Your soul gets lost in it.”

“So, you never wanted this life?” you asked quietly, your heart breaking for her.

“I didn’t know what I was getting into. These women here, they’re not your friends,” she replied, her fingers curling around her tea cup. “They’re rivals. Each one of them trying to prove they are the best at being the most perfect version of a woman they can be. It’s exhausting. And no matter how hard I tried, I never truly fit in.”

“You said Benjamin was different when he was young,” you said gently, wanting to know more. “How was he before everything changed?”

Mrs. Brooks’ eyes softened, and for a moment, you could see the mother she had been – a woman who adored her son, who once had hope for his future.

“Benjamin was always sensitive,” Mrs. Brooks said, her voice full of tenderness. “He was a sweet little boy who loved to ask questions about the world. He was curious about everything. He’d sit with me for hours, just asking me how things worked, why things were the way they were. And he had this soft smile that would light up a room. I’ll never forget how he used to look at me, with such trust in his eyes. He would bring me flowers and tell me stories from his little world, and I would see the softness in him, the kind of softness a mother always hopes for in a child. People always said he was a ‘dreamer,’ and I thought he would always stay that way. I loved that about him. But Richard didn’t. Richard thought it was a weakness.”

Mrs. Brooks’ voice cracked slightly, as if the memories were too painful to recount. She looked down at her cup.

“Richard did everything he could to ‘toughen him up.’ He took him hunting, made him go to boarding school at an early age, sending him far away from me,” she continued, her voice drowning in sadness. “He wanted to shape Benjamin into something he could control. He had a vision for his son – one where Benjamin was a carbon copy of him. Strong. Cold. Ruthless. My husband’s world is one of steel, and his love is just as hard. My sweet boy never stood a chance.”

Your heart sank. “And Ben – he didn’t want that?”

“No,” Mrs. Brooks said, a slight bitterness creeping into her tone. “Benjamin didn’t want any of it. But he was young, and he couldn’t fight his father. So slowly, he started to change. He stopped asking questions. He stopped dreaming. And one by one, the things that made him unique faded away. I watched my son slip away from me, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

You wanted to reach out to comfort her, but you felt helpless. How could you fix this? Could you fix him?

“I’m so sorry,” you said softly. “I had no idea.”

Mrs. Brooks gave you a wistful smile. “It’s not your fault, dear. You’re not here to save him. You can’t save him, not from himself. But you might be able to remind him of who he was before the world changed him. I think that’s why I like you so much.”

Your heart tightened as you listened. You could see the sadness in Mrs. Brooks’ eyes, a depth of loss that you hadn’t expected.

Ben’s mother let out a sigh, soft and weary, as though she had been holding it in for too long. “You know, from the moment I met you, there was something about you. Something I never had the chance to share with Benjamin.” She paused, gathering her thoughts as if she hadn’t shared this kind of honesty in years. “I’ve always wanted a daughter for many reasons, you see? I dreamed of having someone who could see this world as I see it. A confidante. You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. You have a fire in you – a light. And I don’t want my son to put it out.”

Your heart halted its beats abruptly. You were taken aback by her blunt honesty, shaking your buzzing head lightly, trying to make sense of her words. “What d’you mean?”

“You don’t know what your getting into, either. You’re not like them. You’re not meant for this kind of life. That’s why I want to warn you, dear,” she said, her gaze sharp.

Oh no, not another warning… How many was that now? Three? Four, if you counted Grace?

Great.

“Benjamin might love you now, but he’ll be just like his father in the end. Cold. Hard. Empty,” she said harshly, the weight of regret in every line of her expression. “The man you think he is, may not be the man he turns out to be. Benjamin isn’t the boy I once held in my arms anymore. He’s not the man you think he is. I see his father in him more every day. I can see it in the way he looks at the world, in the way he reacts to the people around him. I don’t want you to end up like me. You’ll be the one left behind. Trust me.”

You felt a knot in your throat, your heart pounding with an ominous sound like an ancient war drum. You didn’t know how to respond. Your thoughts spiraled in every direction.

You swallowed hard, tears pricking your eyes like salt in a wound. “I don’t know if I can walk away. I think I love him,” you confessed quietly, barely audible over the chatter of the tea room.

The words shocked you. You’d never said them out loud before, but they didn’t seem to rattle his mother at all.

Her eyes softened, her hand reaching over to clasp yours on the table in a sad understanding. “I know you do. But that’s the problem, dear. When you love someone like him, you’ll always be fighting a battle you can’t win.”

▶️ Chapter 8: Frankly, My Dear, I Don't Give a Damn

Ooof, looks like not even Ben's mother has much confidence in him... What did you think of all the warnings? And if Ben was already this upset now, then well, imagine what he feels like when it really happens. Choo-choo, all aboard the angst train! Get ready to meet the man of the hour next week 😉

(Fair warning: Chapters never really got any shorter. I don't know what to tell ya, but half of the next one is smut, so there's that 😂🤷‍♀️)

Coming Up:

“I remember you mentioned a girl from school staying here.” The patriarch of the steel empire carved into his roast with casual violence, sipping his wine like it was penance, a pair of almond-shaped, glacier blue eyes zeroing in on his son. “Didn’t think you meant still staying here.”

You managed a polite smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Brooks.”

He gave a short nod that might’ve been a grunt, reaching for the wine glass before saying, “Likewise.”

Ben’s mother – composed in a deep jade green dress that complimented the glint in her eye – broke the tension with a dry, almost teasing, “She’s been keeping me company. And sane.”

You glanced at her in grateful surprise, but she didn’t look at you. Her gaze was squarely on her husband, almost daring him to challenge her.

Oh fuck. You had a feeling that dinner would derail soon enough. You still remembered how your own mother always looked when she wanted to pick a fight with your father. You could see that same desire in Mrs. Brooks tonight.

Richard’s eyes flicked to you as cutting as a scalpel. “Rosemary Hall, was it?”

You smiled, knowing your alibi by heart. “Yes, sir. We, uh, crossed paths with Ben’s group at Choate once or twice. We’ve stayed in touch.”

“Mmm.” He sounded unconvinced, like he already had a list of questions and was working through them in his mind. “And what is it you do, exactly?”

You gave an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “A little of everything. Read a lot. Try to keep busy.”

Mr. Brooks leaned back with a hum, wine glass in hand. “You read. Anything useful?”

Ben’s hand tensed slightly on the table. You felt it even without looking.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt. 1:

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mybelovedsylus · 4 months ago

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My hand slipped. Uh 18+ pls. Minors, keep it moving even though I know this doesn't come close to other's spice lol. ANYWAY the boys may have been feral in the promos - but uh anyway this is for my fellow Sylus girlies. (Also my first go at smut so I can’t promise anything great- but gotta get it out before we probably find out the cards are actually angsty as fuck) Potential Caleb one in the works cause the whole shoving his necklace in his mouth moment… aaaaaaaanyways no beta and no proofreading cause that’s who I’ve always been and it’s a pain on the iPad - forgive any mistakes.

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The Sylus I had gotten to know over the last several months was gone. He had disappeared out of the N109 zone in the middle of the day while I had been off on a mission hunting wanderers. Luke and Kieran had blown up my phone, but by the time I got the messages the trail had gone cold. That was until a few months later and that’s how I found myself in a giant cage, Sylus chained up across from me. The usual shine of red glimmer in his eyes was gone, instead it was a preditorial black glaring back at me.

“What have they done to you?”

“You’ve come to help? Why your idea of help is heartwarming,” he stuttered out stumbling towards me, pulling against his chains. His head tilted to the side and his tongue swept across his bottom lip as he looked me up and down. Before I could stop myself I flinched back a step, backing away just an inch but he noted it right away. His lips lifted into a eerie grin and then before I could blink he was on me, twisting my body so my back was perfectly molded to his front. I gasped as he ground his hips into mine and his arm locked around my throat, letting me know exactly what thoughts were filtering through his mind.

“Sylus, focus, we can worry about that later. Now’s the time to get you out of here.”

It was a weak beg honestly. It had been weeks since I had seen him and I wasn’t immune to him even knowing that he wasn’t himself. It’s as if he could sense that, huffing a sardonic chuckle into my neck as his mouth trailed up to my ear.

“Why would we leave?” He whispered and I felt the cool metal of chains sliding around my waist and winding over both hands. That was the shock I needed to start trying to pull out of his grasp, twisting to face him - who knew how long we actually had to get out of here? He gave me a teasing ‘tsk’ and then yanked my hands together and looped the remaining chain through cage, pulling until my arms were secured above my head.

“Now you’ll never fly away little bird.”

That was the last warning you got before Sylus was on you. His hands were roughly pulling on your hair as his mouth slanted over yours. His pace was punishing, like he was trying to make up for lost time and also like he was blaming you for whatever had happened to him in the time it took you to track him down. You whimpered into his mouth and that provided the perfect opening for him to lick inside your mouth, tangling your tongue with his. He pulled back, his hand giving another firm tug to your hair before pulling them free.

“Now where do we start? I mean the outfit is something else, I think we keep that,” he whispers his hands trailing down the front of my chest, stopping to pull at my nipples now straining against the leather before they continue on down to the skirt. I feel the familiar callouses trail down my leg, hooking under my knee to wrap my leg around his waist as he presses closer to me.

“I can feel the heat pulsing off of you here,” he growled out as his hands were suddenly under the skirt, pushing my underwear to the side. He bit down on my neck and I groaned as his fingers ghosted over my slit, gathering some of the wetness that was rapidly pooling, before using them to flick my clit roughly.

“Fuck, what are they giving you?”

“I thought you were trying to get me away from this,” his words ring true, but my thoughts are muddled by the way he’s playing my body.

He shifts his attention from my clit, roughly plunging two fingers inside me. I squirm, desperately wanting to grasp at something and only being able to pull uselessly on my chains. He sets a punishing pace, the sound obscene in the otherwise silent area. After a few thrusts he adds in a third, his eyes fixated on my face and reading all of the responses that I’m sure are flickering across my face. I don’t even realize my mouth is hanging open until I’m being fed said fingers, tasting myself on his skin. He’s pushing them deeper down my throat, testing how much I can take.

“Suck,” he commands. I hear the sound of his chains rattling, his free hand grabbing at my other leg so my body is now supported by his body, and held up by the chains. I moan around his fingers as I feel the head of his cock pushing at my entrance. My hips roll into him, needing him. He lets out a cruel laugh at my desperation before slamming himself home. I scream against his fingers, rolling my body into him and pulling uselessly against the chains. My eyes are watering and his little control left seems to snap. The hand around my thigh moves up to collar my neck and he pulls almost all the way out, dragging against all the sensitive spots, to slam home over and over.

“This is what I’ve needed, why didn’t you get here sooner, so warm, feels like home,” he grunts, pulling his fingers from my mouth, using the soaking digits to flick my clit as he pounds into me. I can feel and hear the slam of his balls as he bottoms out, then the head of his cock hooking on my slit as it fights to stay inside.

“Please, Sylus, please let me have my hands back, I need to feel you just like you need to feel me.”

He falters for a second, and I wonder if the medicine makes it where he can’t trust me like normal. But eventually the chain loosens. My hands aren’t completely free, but they’re loose enough that I can loop them around his neck and pull myself even closer to him. I grab the longer hair at the nape of his neck and pull, which causes him to let out a deep groan and piston even harder. At that point I’m tearing lines into his upper back, wherever my hands can find purchase as I am taken on a ride. His fingers twitch around my neck before closing in and giving the illusion of cutting off my air supply. I can’t help the moan that tears out of me, and then I’m trying to push myself back on him, to get him deeper, to get him to leave a permanent impression inside of me.

“I’m not gonna last much longer Sy,” I warn in a horse tone, struggling the words out. He uses the grip on my throat to pull my head towards him so he can swallow my cries with his mouth. The finger on my clit flicks even faster and I’m screaming as I fall apart around him. He groans as my walls clamp onto him, making it harder for him to keep up his bruising pace. It’s only a few moments later that he’s pulling away from my mouth and biting down hard on my shoulder as he finds his own release, a few small aftershocks wracking his body as he gives me small little thrusts as he pulses inside of me. We spend a second still wrapped around each other, both breathing heavily. He starts to pull away, and I whimper as he slips out, a warm gush going with him.

He looks down and smiles when he sees the mess of my thighs from where our releases are combined. With a snarky smirk, he moves my underwear back in place regardless of the mess. In fact, he seems to like the idea that I’m sitting here with clear evidence of what just happened.

“Hands Sy, play time is over, it’s time to get moving,” I remind him, rattling the chains to draw his attention, “and I need a shower.”

“Mmmm except now you smell like me." He says as his nose follows the sensitive path up my neck, causing my skin to pebble and my shoulder to shake in a shiver. Oversensitive at this point, I put my hands on his chest and shove.

"Ugh. Fine, time to fly little bird,” he whispers as he frees my hands, and as he looks down at me I can see a tiny bit of the usual red returning to his eyes as the drugs lose a little of their control. There’s a glimpse for a second of the Sylus I’ve been missing. I grasp his wrist and pull him towards the exit, time to fly indeed.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deep space smut #sylus smut #love and deepspace smut #lads

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cherryeclipses · 4 months ago

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i love you, i'm sorry ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

dean winchester x reader

part 2 here

angst, childhood lovers to enemies (potentially to lovers again), i love writing angsty dean I'm sorry. warning - I hardly edit any of my writing sorry

word count: 2.1K

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

cause that's just the way life goes ...

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

You were 16 when you met Dean Winchester, he and his brother Sam were new to your school. The moment you met you instantly had a crush on the boy, he was charming, funny, dangerous, and downright sexy. The only problem was every other girl in your grade felt the same thing, hell even some of the guys did. Dean had the kind of energy when he walked into a room all eyes were on him. It wasn't until a few months later when you would finally speak to him, it turns out his dad and yours were friends; hunting friends. Okay maybe friends is too much, more like acquaintances, they would help each other if they were hunting the same thing. John and your father had decided now that John was to be in your hometown for at least the next few months that the three of you kids could keep each other company.

The first time the three of you met officially it was a horrible stormy night. Something straight out of a horror movie, the rain was pelting against the windows, making them rattle, and thunder clapped so loud in the distance it sounded as though the apocalypse was beginning. John came over to your house with Sam and Dean to sit down with your father and go over the lore of whatever monster they were hunting now. "Darlin' you remember John Winchester?" Your dad said lazily, gesturing to the elder Winchester. You just nodded politely. "Well these are his sons, Dean and little Sam. " He continued. "I know, I've met them already." Both fathers looked at you confused for a moment. "I mean, they started at school last month. I think I have a couple classes with Dean." You shrugged, trying to play it off. You caught Dean's expression from the corner of your eye, he was smirking at you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

As the two men retreated to spend the night in the study you were left standing in the kitchen with Sam and Dean, awkwardly. "I'll show you both to the living room, we can order a pizza or something?" You turned on your heels and the boys followed you into the next room. You sat on one end of the couch, Sam on the other and Dean sat in the armchair across from you. Sam started flicking absentmindedly through the tv channels, trying to drown out the uncomfortable silence. "It must be nice to have a real home where you don't have to move schools all the time." Sam spoke up. "Uh yeah, I guess it's alright. I mean it'd be even better if dad wasn't a hunter at all." You gave the young boy a sympathetic smile. You looked up to see Dean still staring at you, you couldn't tell if he was eyeing you off or judging you; but either way it looked like he was about to eat you. You felt your face heat up, your crush sitting meters across from you, in your house. It was unreal.

The rest of the night dragged on, you watched a few movies and ordered pizza, none of you talking very much. Eventually Sam fell asleep so you got up off the couch to cover him with a blanket. As you passed Dean to pick up the blanket he finally spoke up. "So what classes do we have together?" He asked innocently. "What?" You answered, startled. "When your dad was introducing us you said we have a few classes together. A beautiful girl like you, I'd remember. So I'm curious." You were stunned, there's no way he just said that. "Um I think English and history maybe." You answered, sitting back down besides the sleeping boy. "No wonder I haven't seen you." He laughed. "There's no way anyone could make me sit through the most boring classes of the day." You rolled your eyes, yeah sure they were tedious but you actually wanted to graduate. "So what do you do with all your spare time then? Surely not studying?" Now it was Dean's turn to blush, you had heard a few notorious stories about Dean and a certain janitor's closet. He just shrugged and ran a hand through his soft, brown hair.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Ever since that night Dean started showing up to his English and history classes, and not only showing up but coming in early to make sure he had the seat beside you. During breaks he would find you out by the football field and join you for lunch. You had so much in common, not just your unstable life as a hunter's kid but same taste in music and cars. It felt like you finally met your soulmate.

Eight months later it was time for the Winchester's to move on. The longest they had stayed anywhere (thanks to Dean) but John wouldn't be delayed any longer, he had a lead two states away and was determined to follow it. The night before he left, Dean snuck in through your window to say goodbye. Gifting you a dainty necklace adorned with your birthstone - you didn't even realise Dean knew what a birthstone was!

"What's this for Dean? So my heart can break everytime I put it on?" You ask, looking up at the boy with tears in your eyes. He takes your left hand, running his thumb over your knuckles comfortingly. "No, this isn't goodbye forever, just for now. Just until dad ganks this son of a bitch and then I can come and see you again. I promise. Just wanted to get something for my favourite girl to remember me by." He leant down to place a kiss on the top of your head. Wrapping your arms around him you pulled him in for the tightest hug you could manage. "I don't believe you, but I still love you." You chuckle against his chest. You felt his heart skip a beat, pausing before he replies "I love you too."

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

It didn't take long after graduating high school for you to fall into the hunter's life. After spending your senior year fighting with your dad about the future, you did exactly what he expected and gave in. He had taught you how to hunt from the age you could hold a shotgun.

It was the reason your mum left.

Although you were fulfilling your destiny of becoming a hunter, you refused to hunt with him. After a particularly explosive fight you called your boyfriend. Dean knew about your daily arguments but he also could feel that this one was different. This fight was bad enough, pushed you far enough to call him crying and begging to meet him wherever he was. Dean was currently hunting a vampire nest with John only a six hour drive from you. The minute your phone lit up with an address you jumped in your car and sped off. Not looking back for a second.

"She's on her way." Dean announced to John, shoving his phone back into his pocket. John sighed in response "she'll get her anger out on this hunt then she'll drive right back home. Don't expect her to stay with us. Even if she wants to, the answer's no." He said solemnly. "I don't think so, this is different. She hates this life, so it'd have to be really bad." John nodded not looking up from his paper. He only tolerated yours and Dean's relationship. He had nothing against you personally, he just didn't believe you could be in a relationship and live their life. He would put up with you for as long as it took you to realise that and run off to find someone stable.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

That was almost four years ago. Since then you had joined the Winchester family on most of their hunts, surprising John with not only how well you could research and retain lore information but also how quick you were in a fight.

You had begun to grow close to Sam, he became both your best friend and the little brother you never had. When you were left alone to research he would often confide in you his feelings and dreams for the future.

One evening Dean returned to the motel alone, John abandoned him for a dive bar down the road, to you and Sam asleep on the couch. Your head resting atop his, your hoodie covering the younger boy from the chill in the air. Dean adored how you loved Sammy, how you both got along and you took care of him. He kissed your cheek and noticed how cold you were. Dean quietly removed his leather jacket, gently placing it around your shoulders before settling into bed for the night. He didn't dare wake the two of you.

Over the years, you had the privilege of watching Sam grow into a young man and live out his dream of leaving the hunting life for college. The weekend before he left he made sure to visit you to say goodbye. Hugging you goodbye and making sure you had his new number but not before making you promise you wouldn't give it to Dean or John. "Cross my heart. I'll take this phone number to my grave along with every embarrassing crush you've told me about." You giggled, making an x across your heart. "Okay, okay, thank you. I just want to start over and I can't if they're trying to track me down." He smiled sadly. You looked up at Sam (he had now grown 10 feet tall and towered over you) "I get it but I can't promise they won't try to track you down anyways." You shrugged before giving the boy one final hug goodbye. "Good luck little Sammy." You joked as he left for good.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Ever since Sam left things had become tense among the Winchesters. Well, more tense than they already were. John was more irritable, it seemed like he would take his sadness and frustration out on you, yelling at the smallest mistakes or refusing to give you details on their next hunt. Dean was torn, it was wearing him down, trying to deal with his brother leaving and his father and girlfriend fighting. You had had enough and had thoughts about leaving for awhile, just taking a few solo hunts away from John until things cooled down - you really wished you could steal Dean away as well but that would make things so much worse.

"-absolutely not! You go out there and do what needs to be done Dean. This has been going on for far too long and you know it." You heard John shout from inside his and Dean's motel room. "You don't know what you're talking about, she's the best damn hunter we've ever worked with." Dean responded, sounding just as furious. You hesitated going inside. You were going to tell Dean about your plan to give John some space but now, now they were fighting about you. You took a step back, you couldn't just leave without saying goodbye, so you waited. Anxiously twisting the birthstone around your neck, your back pressed against the brick wall, you waited for the screaming match to be over.

"She's bad news, always has been. Just like her damn father Dean. You can't keep dragging her around, it ain't fair." "I love her. " Dean growled. "You wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face." And with that the motel door flung open to reveal a furious Dean.

Tears stung your eyes, threatening to overflow. "How much of that did you hear?" Dean asked. "Enough." Dean took a deep breath and led you away from the motel door. "Look, I'm sorry. Honestly I never wanted you to hear that fight. But there's something I gotta say." Your breath caught in your throat, it felt like you were going to puke. You couldn't say anything back, so you just waited for him to go on, "I-Jesus-I can't do this anymore." He chokes out. "We need to break up." Tears pour down your cheeks silently. "We need to? Or John wants us to?" You seethe. "We need to. It's not fair, you never wanted this life. I know what you wanted, you truly want what Sam left for. An apple pie life. You could still go to college, meet someone normal. I can't, no I won't, keep bringing you down like this." His voice raises. "Seriously? After everything. You're giving in?" Nothing. Dean stands there, looking like a lost puppy. "Fine, I'll leave, I know when I'm not wanted. But before I go, I hope you're aware you sound just like your father. Congratulations." You whip around and walk as fast as your legs will take you to your car. Speeding off down the highway, making sure to stick your middle finger out the window for Dean to see.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

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gothic-thoughts · 8 months ago

Text

Getting Through To You

Michael Myers x Black Fem Reader Fluff

Second Meeting, Nurse!Reader, AsylumPatient!Michael

Part 1: Right Here

Part 3: Right Here

CW: trying to get to know Michael, a little angsty at the end

TW: strangling (not you lol), violence mentioned

Word Count: 1442 (give or take)

The next day, the guards guide me to his room again, unlocking it and letting me in. Even though he seemed to like me yesterday, I, of course, was still afraid, tightly holding my clipboard.

“H-hey Michael...”

Michael was sitting on his bed, watching me enter, eyes drifting back to the door as it slowly closed behind me. Hoping he still felt the same about me as he did the other day, I wave at him sheepishly.

“Remember me from yesterday...?”

In silence, he just continues to watch me for a few more seconds before abruptly standing to which I gasp in surprise and quickly jump back. Michael makes his way over and I stand as still as I can, trying to show no fear since our fairly tame interaction yesterday but the weight of his intensity eventually squashes my courage and I end up backing away.

“U-uh...” I wave again, “Hi... I-I don't think I told you my name yesterday.”

He kept following me as I backed up, towering over me with his bulky frame until my back was flush with the wall backing me up against the wall.

“I'm (Y/n).”

He pauses, hair dangling to the side when he cocks his head.

“Y-yeah, (Y/n)...”

He slowly leans down a little closer to my height, but his intensity makes my skin crawl and my breathing halt.

“So how are you feeling today?”

Ugh, no answer. Maybe I’m not getting through to him? I start checking boxes and writing on my paper, the sound of the pen dancing along the clipboard loud in the dark, quiet room. He slowly lifts one of his large hands and with a surprising amount of carefulness, he grabs the top of the clipboard and slowly leans it back to peek. My shoulders relax at the curious gesture.

“Oh, I'm just writing how you feel.” I smile hopefully, “Cuz I gotta ask you some questions, is that... okay?”

The killer nods slightly.

“It’s only a couple. Can you, uh... Can you back up a little bit?”

He lets go of my board and takes a few heavy steps back, finally giving me the space I need to breathe properly.

“Uh... when’s the last time you, uh... had a violent urge...?”

Dead-air. I know he likes me and I know he definitely understands me. Maybe he’s just mute...?

“Hm, you really don't talk, do you?”

Silence. I roll my eyes. What the fuck. Yet another thing my boss left out, got me asking a mute man questions. Ugh. Hearing his knuckles crack, I look up at him to see his eyes narrowed behind the eyeholes of his mask, the sight making my eyeholes widen in realization. I quickly backtrack as I reach out to touch his fist, a weak attempt at keeping it down.

“No, no! I wasn’t rolling my eyes at you!”

His eyes remain the same as his head tilted again.

“I was just mad that nobody told me you didn’t talk, that’s all. I don’t mind if you don’t talk but I wouldn’t be asking you questions if I knew that you...wouldn’t really answer them. Or rather...”

My boss told me not to come back unless the paper was filled out so I went with the first idea that popped into my head: just ask him yes or no questions. Might take a little bit longer if I get no’s but there’s no talking required. It’s the best chance I got.

“Okay, can we try something else?” I think for a second before tensing at the only question that appeared, “I-I heard about the nurse before... is it true you didn't like her?”

His eyes seem to get darker, his entire unit of a body tensing as his breathing becomes heavier, causing me to pull my hand back from his still-clenched fist. Guess that answers that question.

“Okay, okay... Easy...” My hands go up in surrender, “I... I'm not mad, not judging, just asking, remember?”

The tension in the room halts when his heavy breaths stop, the area now silent as if he were holding his breath. The killer’s shoulders lower slowly and his fists open at his sides, getting a soft sigh of relief out of me.

“Yeah, there you go. That's it.”

His blue, dead eyes behind the mask finally drift away from me as he shuffles over to his wall of homemade papier-mâché masks. He slowly reaches up and touches one of them, petting it lightly and seeming to calm down even further.

“Did you make those?”

He pulls down one of the masks and holds it as he slowly nods his head.

“They look...nice... You made them for Halloween..?”

Another wordless nod.

“Oh, well they’re really nice. Can I... keep asking questions?”

Another nod.

“Alright... do you like your new nurse...?”

He goes still. His head slowly tilts down to look at the mask in his hand before his eyes suddenly snap back up to me. Oh great. He drops the mask and steps over it to get closer but I jump back with a shriek, hoping the guards heard and took it as a sign of potential danger.

“Guess that's a no... B-but what did I do?” I keep backing away, crossing his room in the other direction, “Is there something you don't like about me...?”

Michael suddenly grabs my arm in his strong grip, making me scream again and flinch, this time the sound getting the guard's attention enough to call out for Michael, but the killer uncaringly lowers his head until our eyes meet. He slowly raises his right hand and uses a couple of fingers to pet my corresponding cheek— with the same amount of care he used with his mask.

“Y-you don't like my face...?”

Michael keeps moving his hands gently, the rough, dangerous fingers tracing my skin delicately like he doesn't want to break it, the gesture somehow calming my heart rate.

“You... like my face...? God, I never seen you so... like this...”

I slowly raised my hand, making sure he was following my movements as touched the back of the hand he was petting me with. Michael doesn’t stop me, instead stilling his hand to allow me to feel his cold skin. He almost felt dead, giving me a chill but I compose myself as I look at his orange mask in more depth, appreciating how much long it must’ve taken to make it, hell how long it must’ve taken to make all of them.

“Aw Michael, you're freezing.”

He doesn't respond to my comment but he huffs behind the mask as his shoulders relax.

“How... how many people have got this close to you.... a-and lived...?”

Michael tilts his head, supposedly thinking for a moment before he realigns his head and lifts his free hand, holding up two fingers before my face. I gasp in shock. This is the most he’s spoken— or well, opened up, I guess. Nodding, I pull my hand from his but without warning, he grabs my wrist in a firm but gentle grip, stopping me, but not hurting me. My heart clenches and beats a little faster as I put my hand back, his breathing once again becoming undetectable.

I look up at his mask, slowly lifting my other hand and touching his shaggy, dreaded hair, my fingers running getting caught in the thick, brown strands that messily clung together. He watches me silently the whole time so I give him a small smile as I become more and more soothed by his presence. The guards suddenly bang on the door as they bust in, startling me out of the moment.

I drop my clipboard and jump away from Michael with a sharp gasp as my body goes back into flight mode. Why are they in here? What did he do? It couldn’t have been from when I screamed earlier, that was like forever ago! We were finally bonding! Or was he about to do something and I didn’t see it?

Before another question could cross my mind, Michael stomps over to the two guards, his tall form immediately dwarfing them as he grabs them both by the throat, crushing their windpipes as they choke and kick for air. I stare in horror, wondering how and why I ever let myself get so close to that monster. They could’ve been me. I contemplated calling out for him but I didn’t wanna be next so as more guards rushed in to try their best to subdue him, I ran out of the room as the sound of crackling electricity and pained screams rang out in the hallway.

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After the incident, I was given a little over a week of vacation to cope and work through any trauma I got from seeing Michael attack for the first time.

Except I didn’t really have any trauma, I was just... scared. Terrified, really. I guess I’m just glad it wasn’t aimed towards me... He seemed like he went out of his way to make sure he attacked the guards.

I mean I was standing right there, and I was touching his hair! He had all the chances to attack, but he didn’t.

Hell he didn’t even push me out the way when he stalked over to the guards, he stepped around me. Maybe it was the noise.

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(a/n): This gonna be a mini saga, part 3 coming out soon 😁😁

#black reader #black writers #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #rz myers x reader #rz michael myers #rz halloween #spooky season #spooky month #halloween #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #october

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dpspcehntr · 21 days ago

Text

Hi @dawnbreakerbrokeme! I’m going to change this a bit cause I personally head canon MC as infertile due to the protocore in their heart reeking havoc on their body. It got quite angsty I do apologize. I decided to forgo the smut this time cause it didn’t quite fit but I can definitely write something else for you if this isn’t what you wanted!

My ask box is officially OPEN! Send me your requests, thoughts, head canons, anything you want! Before you send, please read the rules!

Warnings: Pregnancy scare, talks of infertility, it’s kinda sad tbh, no smut just angst

“We didn’t use protection.”

You look up from your spot across the room at him. He seems to be smiling just a little as he recounts last night, caught in the after glow you thought.

“You’re usually so careful Dr. Zayne.”

You tease in a playful tone as you fix the last pieces of your association uniform. You look over to him putting on his tie and make your way over to him.

“I hope you’re not expecting anything. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

You say as a throw away before fixing his tie for him. He seems to be caught up in something which makes you giggle. You make a note to visit a clinic later just to be sure. You already know how much the protocore in your body has changed you forever so what’s the risk? Not like there’s anything there to hold a baby anyway, you had no proof, just a gut feeling. Your stomach drops when you realize he doesn’t know. His entire demeanor has changed just so slightly at the idea that you might be and you feel your ears start to ring.

“Everything alright? You look pale?”

He places a hand on your forehead and takes in your temperature.

“I’m running late! I’ll uh see you later okay?”

You plant a kiss on his cheek and quickly make your way to the door to leave.

The Next Week

You sit in the examination room waiting for the results. Your mind is racing as you recount the conversation you had with Zayne last. He sounded so excited for some kind of news from you which hurt even more.

“Well I’ve got good news or bad news depending on how you feel about this.”

The doctor hands you your test results but you don’t even have to look at them to know the results. A pit in your stomach forms at the thought of telling Zayne, so you decide not to. You look toward the doctor going over your results with you but you can’t hear over the thudding in your chest. You hoped this would be enough of an explanation to your disappearance, a new line in your chart. You swallow around the lump in your throat as she continues to go over next steps.

2 Months Later

After receiving a rather threatening letter from the Hunter’s Association about your yearly physical results, you know you can no longer avoid him. You take a deep breath as you push open the doors to his office. He looks up from the stack of papers on his desk with a familiar cool look.

“You’ve been avoiding appointments, is there something wrong?”

You take a seat in front of him and look up, his usual stone cold professional face reflects nothing back at you.

“You’re my doctor, look at my chart.”

You had hoped you could avoid having this conversation all together but alas the time had finally come to tell him the truth. He looks down at your file and flips to a page you know he hadn’t seen yet. He carefully looks it over before closing it slowly.

“You get it now Zayne? I didn’t want to hurt your feelings but I already knew, I just went and got a test to be sure. I didn’t know how to tell you so I’ve been avoiding you.”

He looks back up at you, his expression has visibly softened as he looks into your eyes.

“It doesn’t make any difference to me, just as long as you’re healthy. As your doctor these are important things for me to know. Since you’ve been avoiding our appointments I hadn’t looked at your chart since before that night. But as your partner, I’m more upset that you felt the need to handle this alone.”

He places his hand on the desk outstretched toward you. You take his hand in yours as he gives you a comforting squeeze.

“There is nothing that we can’t handle together, but we have to be honest with one another. No more secrets. You can come to me with anything you’re going through.”

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bomber-grl · 1 year ago

Text

Touch Starved

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!reader

Summary: you’re rarely the touchy type but when you get into a fight with your parents you leave home. The only person on your mind is Hiro so you drop by his house in hopes of comfort.

They were so stupid. Obviously you felt even more strongly about your parents at the moment but that’s what automatically came to mind.

They just don’t understand and sure you’re acting like an angsty misunderstood teenager but that’s exactly what’s happening. Whatever, they’re the reason their teen kid is walking out at night.

Well, regardless of what you thought you were brought out of your head. You were now in front of hiros window, the window that you’d try and climb and hope to not get caught doing so.

Luckily for you, you brought along some gadget you invented while at SFIT so with some A LOT of effort you managed to make it through his window.

Ok, step 1 complete.

….

That’s all you got, you hadn’t planned ahead and now you were standing in the middle of Hiros bedroom luckily without causing any sort of racket What a lie

Well because of how in your own head you were you completely tuned out the footsteps walking towards the door. Aaaaand now you’re face to face with Hiro..

“Uhh hi?” He says a bit awkwardly, he’d been taking a shower if the towel around his neck and wet hair was anything to go by.

He steps out of the door frame and into the room. He’s staring at you…

Huh??? Hes staring at you

“So? Why’re you here” you can practically hear his smile through his tone.

“Oh! Well uh… I just wanted to hang out” that’s all you said, he immediately got it and stepped closer, a little too close.

“Kay, want to play games or something?” He asked nonchalantly, and of course you answered-

“Sure”

It had been fun, you and hiro were laughing until it hurt if the ridiculous drawings of each other were anything to go off of.

Half way through your little hang out Cass might have heard the commotion as she popped in and offered some sweet snacks, luckily not suspecting anything.

Now? It was quiet, you both calmed down and you were sitting on his bed and he was standing.

“So uhh, what’s been up with you?” He asks obviously stepping on egg shells around you.

“Huh?” You perk up “what’re you talking about?” You really didn’t know.

He laughs awkwardly “don’t think I haven’t noticed your weird behavior.”

You cleared you throat but hiro interjected “look I-“

Suddenly hiro back was against the wall and despite almost tripping over Baymaxs charge box-thing he managed to hold onto you, you were hugging him.

What you did didnt sink in until you felt his hands reach around you.

Suddenly you became hyper aware, he was breathing close to your neck, his hair was tickling your cheek and most of all? You could feel his heart pounding against yours, and to say it rivaled it wasn’t exactly an understatement.

You held him back of course, your face hid away in his neck and after a moment of stiffness hiro relaxed once more.

You thought you were being silly for reacting this way, but hiro? He was just as much head over heels for you as you were for him.

His face was bright red and all he could hope was for you not to notice, he really couldn’t handle any teasing after this.

Then you let go and backed away. Seeing your face was much more reassuring for him.

It was silent until you both spoke

“I-“hey” you glanced from the floor to him in an instant

“Sorry- “you can go first”, you guys spoke at the same time, again..

You spoke up once and for all “you speak first, please do..” the last part was said in your head but who’s to say otherwise?

“Uh, what’s really up with you?” He breathed in and then out “you can tell me, and if you don’t want to? Well that’s ok.”

The last feelings of conflict left you and you finally told hiro about the big fight with your insufferable parents- albeit in a bunch of jumbled words.

He smiled obviously trying to hide it and when he asked why you hugged him? You told him that you just wanted to be held…

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT??-

“Oh..” hiros face went ablaze and was now covered in a darker shade of red. Atleast now he couldn’t tease or say anything sarcastic-

He spoke again “then I’m assuming you’re sleeping here?”

And boy was he right, now you’re here laying in his bed while he brushes his teeth.

Luckily Cass had a spare and he let you use the restroom before him.

Now you were laying here in suspense, your heart was practically pounding in your chest and you were filled with all kinds of nervous energy.

The door creaked open and in popped in hiros head, then followed by him as a whole.

He stood around the bed for a second, very obviously hesitating. Then he went all in and laid down

He was faced away from you but once you reached out to touch his neck it was hot to the touch.

“U-uHm” his voice cracked “you want to talk about it any more?”

He was going for the normal approach

“No, just… hold me, ok?” You really didn’t know how to respond, was it even possible to say this in a relatively normal way? You rlly don’t think so.

He flushed again then opened his arms. You joined to lay in them and despite the constant pounding of a heart you couldn’t decide was his or yours; you enjoyed it.

It was nice to finally be able to be affectionate with someone.

The next morning rolled around and the two of you got ready and headed down.

You two were met with a delicious looking breakfast and cass may have picked up on the energy between you two because she asked

That morning you witnessed your boyfriend hiro having the Heimlich maneuver performed on him by no other than his own aunt.

For those who can’t read between the lines, the last paragraph is basically saying that since hiro and reader were already having tension from the events of last night, cass brought it up and startled hiro- catching him off guard. Prompting him to choke on his food)

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moonchild9350 · 1 year ago

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Sign the Dotted Line (Chapter Two)

Summary: Your new life as Minho's girlfriend hasn't gone as planned, but an opportunity to get closer presents itself at your first award show.

Pairing: idol Minho x fab reader

Genre: suggestive, angst (for 2 seconds)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: suggestive scene

Note: the next chapter of the series! I'm sorry y'all but I love writing about moody, angsty Minho. We start to see a little action, but bare with me. It'll be worth it I promise ;) I hope you like this chapter! If so, please comment, reblog, like, or let me know in my ask box :)

New chapters will be posted on Saturdays at 1pm CST.

Series Masterlist

If you'd like to join my taglist for the series or general taglist, please let me know! (age must be in bio or pinned to be added)

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or report this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

prev.| next

You couldn’t believe what just happened. This was definitely not how you imagined meeting an idol you adored, let alone your now appointed boyfriend. You felt stupid, standing there in the managers office, as tears welled up in your eyes. But before you could break down and cry, the manager walked back in. You quickly wiped your eyes and plastered a smile on your face. Despite your efforts to look unbothered, she could tell something happened. She gave you a questioning look.

“Does Minho uh, does Minho want me here?” You asked looking at the ground.

You heard her sigh before gesturing for you to sit down. You sat down as instructed, placing your hands in your lap. The woman looked at you before saying, “Minho is struggling with the idea of us appointing a girlfriend for him. The other members had no problems when we appointed them their girlfriends, but Minho on the other hand doesn’t want to umm… cooperate.”

She paused for a while before continuing, “don’t worry though, he’ll come around once he gets to know you. “ she gave you a soft smile.

You really hoped so, otherwise this was going to be miserable. The manager explained that later you would be driven to the dorms, as they had prepared a living space for you. You thanked her for the generosity.

“Will I be able to work eventually?” You asked. You didn’t want to just sit around all day if you could help it.

“Of course! As long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties it’ll be fine.” She said. “Although you may want to learn more Korean before securing a job.”

You blushed at her statement. Damn you were embarrassed.

She smiled, “don’t worry. We can help you. Felix and Chan can help too when needed.”

You nodded in understanding. That made you feel better. You were sure you’d be able to pick it up in no time.

“Are you ready to go meet the rest of the boys? They should be in the practice room. You can hang out there until it’s time to go home.”

You were nervous but knew you’d had to meet them at some point. “I’m ready,” you replied getting up from your chair. You followed her out the room and down the hall. You could hear music blaring from different rooms as different idol groups were hard at work. At the end of the hall, she stopped, gave you an encouraging smile before opening the door. You followed behind her, quickly fixing your hair.

At both of your entrance, the boys looked up, silence falling over the room. They all looked at you curiously, all except one. Minho was still glaring at you, the ever present scowl on his face. You quickly looked away, focusing on the others in the room.

“Everyone, this is y/n. She is Minho’s newly appointed company girlfriend as of today. Let’s make sure she’s welcomed please. “

There was a moment of silence before the boys erupted in cheers, rushing over to you, and chatting excitedly. It was hard to stay shy, their happiness and laughter contagious, causing you to smile and laugh with them.

“Ok, ok everyone let the girl breathe,” one of the boys said laughing. It was Chan, the leader of the group. You couldn’t believe you were meeting him in the flesh, let alone the whole group.

The blond hair boy, Felix you recognized, patted you on the back, “nice to meet you y/n.”

You smiled and said hi, nervous because you could only speak in English. The two Aussies noticed, sharing a smile. “It’s ok, y/n, we’ll help you with your Korean yeah?” Chan said.

“Thank you, I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’m a fast learner though!” You said tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. The boys cooed at you, they thought you were adorable.

While all the boys fussed over you, you couldn’t help but notice Minho standing behind the rest. He didn’t look you in the eye, his mouth in a frown, his bunny teeth showing from under his lip. Your smile slowly faded. Why was he treating you like this? He’s not even trying to get to know you. It made you sad and anxious. Was this what the next two years would be like?

Jisung noticed your sudden silence, looking from your face to Minho’s. He thinks he knows what the problem is. He made his way over to Minho, draping his arm across his shoulders saying, “Min you have this pretty girl standing in front of you who gets to be your girlfriend. Why are you standing over here?”

At that the rest of the guys looked at Minho, shock on some of their faces while others had little smirks. Jisung pushed Minho in your direction, causing Minho to trip over his feet and fall over into you. You shrieked and reached your hands out to catch him, your hands stopping him from face planting on the ground. Minho looked you in the eyes then looked away, jerking his hands out of yours.

You blushed at his actions, stepping back away from him as Minho walked away from you. The boys looked after him in confusion. There was silence throughout the room once more, which was rare for the boys as they were usually loud and rowdy. Thinking he should break the tension, Chan said, “ok kids let’s get back to it. Y/n, you can have a seat on the couch there.”

You nodded your head and took a seat as the boys went to the center of the floor to resume practice. It was a dream come true watching the boys dance. Their moves were in sync, as they moved from formation to formation. You watched in awe as they worked hard, with smiles on their faces.

As the day went on rolling into evening, you were starting to feel tired, the long flight and time change taking a toll. Thankfully, the manager came back in the practice room to grab you as the driver was ready to take you to the dorm. You got up, stretching your legs, before waving and saying goodnight to the boys, a loud chorus of “goodbye y/n!” Echoing throughout the room. You turned to follow the manager, happy at the prospect of getting to take a shower and crawl into bed.

The drive to the dorm wasn’t long, it being close to the building. You thanked the driver and made your way to the dorm that was assigned to you. Unlocking the door, you entered the little apartment, flicking the lights on. It had the bare necessities, but was void of personality. You didn’t mind though, you were just happy you had somewhere to stay for free.

You made your way to the bedroom, setting your bags on the floor before opening them up to get your sleep wear. You padded your way over to the bathroom, turning on the shower to hot. Stepping in, you sighed out in relief, excited to finally be able to relax. You definitely had a stressful day, the tension present in your neck and shoulders. You have no clue what was Minho’s problem, but you hoped it wouldn’t stay this way. It would be quite hard to be his girlfriend if he didn’t even want to be by you. Maybe he just needed time to get used to you, with you being an outsider. Yeah, that’s it. It’ll all be better in no time.

Minho was frustrated, and a little angry. Why did the company think he needed a girlfriend? Why did they always have to meddle in the group’s personal lives? Why did they pick you out of all the candidates? He understood some of the other members had company appointed girlfriends and they seemed very much in love. However, Minho could not see that happening for him. You just seemed so plain to him, nothing super special. So why did they choose you?

Deep down he knew it wasn’t fair to treat you the way he did today. But, he’s not the best at showing his emotions, often coming off as aloof and mean to those who don’t know him personally. He can’t apologize now though, it would make it seem like he cares…which he doesn’t…right?

Minho was still in the practice room with the others, as they were wrapping up for the night. The other members were nervous, he could tell, probably about his mood and today’s events. He was packing his bag when Jisung walked over and sat down next to him.

“Hyung,” Jisung hesitated, “What’s wrong? You haven’t really been yourself today.”

Minho scoffed, that was an understatement. Jisung continued, “Is it about y/n?”

Letting out a sigh, Minho stopped what he was doing and said, “no, absolutely not. I could care less about her.”

The boys froze in their spots and Hyunjin gasped really loud. “Min, how could you say that?” Felix asked in a quiet voice? “She seems really nice,” he added on.

Minho just shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how nice she is. I don’t need a girlfriend, let alone one the company picks out for me.” He went back to packing his bag, the others exchanging nervous glances with each other.

Chan stepped up before saying, “Even if it’s not what you want…at least not now, cut y/n some slack. Let her get to know you and you know her. I bet you could at least be friends. Might make the next two years more bearable yeah?”

Minho listened to his hyung. He knew Chan was right. He really should get to know you and vice versa. But, the vibe was set with him being a dick, he can’t change that now. He doesn’t think you would forgive him if he did. Minho gathered his bag, before looking up at the sea of faces in front of him.

“Can we go please, I’m exhausted and would love to go to bed soon.”

The others shook their heads and gathered their bags and made their way out the door. Today was overwhelming to say the least. Minho would have to apologize. He felt bad the more he thought about how he treated you. Tomorrow he would have to take you aside and tell you so. Everything should be fine after an apology.

The next morning, you woke up, confused at first as to where you were. But then you remembered you were in Korea, starting your new life as Minho’s girlfriend. Ugh, Minho. You let out a loud groan. You knew you had to face him again even though you didn’t want to…not today at least. Getting up, you padded to the bathroom to get ready for the day. The manager had given you the boy’s schedule for the week, wanting you to stick close to them for a few weeks since you were new to the country. Today, they would be working in the recording studio and practicing the routines.

Pulling your hair into a ponytail, you sat down in the living area, waiting for your ride. It didn’t take long before you got a text saying they had arrived. You locked up and made your way to the car. Opening the door, you were met with 4 other faces looking at you. You had a look of surprise on your face, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, and even Minho grinning at your shock.

“Morning y/n” Jeongin said, moving his legs so you could climb in.

“Morning!” You replied making your way to your seat in the back next to…next to Minho. You let out a sigh, sitting down and placing your hands in your lap. You looked out the corner of your eye, looking to see the mood Minho was in. He didn’t look as intimidating today. His face was unreadable still, but at least there wasn’t a frown gracing his beautiful face.

“Want a coffee?” Seungmin asked, turning around in his seat to look at you.

You quickly nodded your head, graciously reaching out to grab the cup, but your arms couldn’t quite reach it. Minho sighed grabbing the cup from Seungmin and handing it to you, his fingers brushing yours in the process. You blushed at the brief contact, quickly grabbing the drink and saying “thank you.” Minho just grunted and placed his hands back in his lap ignoring you. Sighing once more, you brought the drink to your lips, taking a sip. You closed your eyes at the taste of the caffeine thinking your day may be alright now.

Pulling up to the building and the curb, Jeongin opened the door getting out followed by Seungmin. Felix gestured for you to go first as you were in the middle seat. You nodded, climbing out of the car and stood next to the maknaes. Once everyone made it out, you all trekked to the building, taking the elevator to the floor where the practice rooms were.

Opening the door, you were met with a chorus of screaming, Hyunjin and Changbin playfully arguing about something. Hyunjin was screaming while Changbin kept saying “ya!” And hitting Hyunjin’s arm. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene despite your ears hurting from the noise. The rest of the members greeted you, asking how you slept. You were happy to chat with them, feeling more comfortable with the group compared to yesterday.

After a while, Chan motioned for everyone to take their spots to begin practice. You made your way once more to the couch, plopping down, and taking another sip of your coffee. Watching them practice was just as exciting today as it was yesterday. Their banter in between songs was adorable, the boys forming cuddle piles whenever they could.

During one of their breaks, Minho came up to you, a determined look on his face. You stared at him wide eyed, not sure what was about to happen. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Changbin who called out to Minho, “ohhhhh Hyung is so cute with y/n.”

You felt your face flush, but that soon faded as you looked up at Minho, a murderous look on his face. He glared at you before turning away and marching back to the center of the room. What was that about you wondered. It looked as if he wanted to say something to you before he was interrupted by Changbin. You couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind.

You spend the rest of the day following the boys around, watching as they continued to practice. You were even able to sit in on a couple of recording sessions, watching as Chan Jisung, and Changbin coached the others on their parts of the songs.

You could get used to this, their kindness and sweet humor gracing your days.

Months have passed since you arrived in Korea. You have settled in nicely. You now have a job at a local coffee shop, which you love, the rhythmic feel of preparing drinks for customers soothing you, most of the time, and you loved the aroma of coffee that you were bathed in daily.

Your Korean was much better with the help of the class you took and Felix and Chan’s help. You were able to go about your daily life now without language barriers. When you weren’t at the coffee shop, you were at the building with the boys, spending time with them. You felt at home with them. You even met Chan and Hyunjin’s girlfriends Harin and Seoyun who were absolute sweet hearts. You three would hang out sometimes, becoming close friends.

The only part of your life that was not progressing was your relationship with Minho. He stopped glaring at you every time he saw your face, which was something, but other than that, he refused to acknowledge you. You had all but given up, the energy it took to interact with him was too much. The boys noticed but didn’t say anything as each time they did, Minho would chew them out.

At practice one day, the manager came in to discuss the upcoming award show. This would be your first event you were expected to attend. After speaking with the members, she pulled you aside to brief you on the occasion.

“You’ll be provided the dress, shoes, and accessories and we’ll have someone do your hair and makeup. Really the only thing you have to do is show up,” she explained.

It sounded easy enough, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. You nodded your agreement thanking her and made your way to the couch where the boys were resting. You would have been excited for this event if you were getting along with Minho, but you dreaded the upcoming event, having to fake happiness with your boyfriend. You watched as the boys got up to finish practice. You were more than ready to go home so you could relax and sleep.

The next couple of weeks went by fast, and before you knew it, the night of the event was here. You and the boys had arrived at the venue together, before one of the stylist guided you to your own dressing room. The stylists sat you down and got to work, styling your hair and doing your makeup, as you sat back and relaxed. Once done, they had you stand up and as one of the girls walked to the rack that was in the corner, she pulled out the dress that was chosen for you to wear.

The dress was beautiful, a pretty royal blue. As you slipped into the dress, you couldn’t help but admire your look in the mirror. It was a cami dress, the seam bunched at the bust. Your favorite was the little bows the stylists tied at your shoulders, the only thing holding the dress on your body. You finished off the look with some accessories. Twirling in front of the mirror to get a better look, you broke out into a smile, happy with how you looked. As you continued to admire your look, your mind couldn’t help but wonder if Minho would like the dress on you. You secretly hoped he did, wanting him to feel any emotion toward you other than disdain.

The stylists made their finishing touches, fixing stray flyaways and applying last minute lipgloss. Afterwards, you made your way into the hallway, making your way towards the boy’s dressing room. Your stylists knocked on the door first, checking to see if they were done getting ready, before opening the door wider and letting you in. As you walked into the room, eight pair of eyes were looking at you, their eyes wide and staring at your outfit.

“You look beautiful y/n,” Felix said, ever the gentlemen.

You felt your face heat up at his compliment, smoothing your dress down and saying thank you. You looked up and met Minho’s eyes. Your heart fluttered in your chest, watching as he stared at you, his eyes slowly dragging down your body before looking up into your eyes again. He cleared his throat before turning away, going back to getting ready for the award show.

You brushed off his actions, used to it by now before making your way to the couch and sitting down next to Jeongin. You chatted with the boys, laughter and giggles filling the air as they joked with each other. You loved talking with them, as they made your day better, especially now as you felt really nervous about the show. A little while later, both Harin and Seoyun joined the group, sitting down next to their respective boyfriends. You loved watching them interact with Chan and Hyunjin, as there was definitely love in the couples eyes as they chatted with each other.

You felt a pang of jealousy, wishing you could have a connection like that with Minho. You longed for the intimacy that should come with being in relationship. You felt frustrated at the lack of progress with your relationship and even more so at the fact that Minho just didn’t seem to care. You felt so worked up by the thought that you could feel tears threatening to leave your eyes. Realizing what was about to happen, you quickly dabbed at your eyes, preventing any tears from falling and ultimately ruining your makeup. You just had to fake it until you make it, accepting the fact that your relationship with Minho would probably never be docile.

Minho would look at you every so often, his eyes dragging down your body and back to your face. He had to admit, you looked damn near beautiful in that dress, your breasts perched nicely within your dress. Your neck was bared and beautiful. He just wanted to mark it with bruises, so everyone would know you were his. He wanted to have you close, wrapping his arm around you, feeling your warmth as he waited for the award show to start. Minho sat in thought, the member’s voices fading out, as he was in his own little world.

You looked happy until he looked over once more and saw you swipe at your face. Were you crying Or trying to cry? He tracked your gaze, noticing you were looking at Chan, Harin, Hyunjin and Seoyun, most likely watching their interactions with each other. He decided this needed to end, he would make amends tonight before it was time for the show to start.

Standing up, he walked over to you, and mumbled “Can you come with me?”

You stared at the man in front of you, shocked that he even spoke to you. The others were shocked as well, disbelief that Minho was talking to you. You nodded your head and got up, following Minho out the door of the dressing room and down the hall. You watched him hesitate in front of some of the doors, trying the knob and finding them locked. After trying the fifth door, it opened, so he guided you into the room.

Once inside, he just stood there and stared at you, his hand reaching up to run it through his hair before he abruptly brought it down to his side, briefly forgetting about his styled hair. He cleared his throat before looking at you.

“You look uh…you look nice,” Minho stuttered out.

You were shocked at his words and how nervous he seemed, but replied thank you anyway. It was getting awkward, the silence deafening, the only sounds heard were the occasional voices outside the door as people walked by. You both stood in place, looking anywhere but at each other. After some time you spoke up, “did you want something? I’m sure the others will want to know where we are at since the show start time is close.”

Minho finally met your eyes, his brown orbs showing slight annoyance. He made his way over to you, backing you up into the wall behind you. You had no idea what was going on and why his attitude changed suddenly. He looked you in the eyes before grabbing your chin to force you to look at him, your breath hitching in the process.

“You’re mine yeah?” He said, eyes looking at your lips before looking you in the eyes again.

You whimpered out “yes, all yours,” the actions of the last few months with him be damned.

You felt a shiver run through your body, landing at your core, as your slick gushed out into your panties. Your eyes took in every feature on his face, from his dilated pupils, to the slight rise of his eyebrow. Your eyes trailed downward, landing on his little freckle on his nose to his plush lips that were slightly parted. You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together, the ache growing stronger with each passing second.

Minho smirked at you, pleased with your answer. He was aware of his effect on you, he’s noticed since the first day he met you. He brought his face closer to yours, his breath fanning across your face. You felt yourself hold your breath, not daring to move. You had no idea what to say or do, Minho’s behavior out of the norm of what you’re used to.

Minho continued to hover his lips next to yours, barely touching them. You let out the breath you were holder as you closed your eyes, thinking he was going to kiss you. He watched you close your eyes, taking in the soft flutter of your lashes, the flush on your cheeks, until he gazed at your plush lips. It would take nothing to press his lips against yours, to see if they are as soft as they look. Snapping out of his reverie, he pulled back, dropping his hand from your face.

You opened your eyes, a look of confusion on your face. You thought Minho was going to kiss you. You felt your face flush even more in embarrassment at how eager you were to feel his lips on yours. Minho let out a giggle at his influence over you. He knew he could have you like putty in his hands.

“Let’s get back, the show is starting soon,” Minho said, walking to the door. You just stood there for a few extra seconds, your fingers reaching to touch your lips. Minho turned around to see you still standing in the same spot.

“Y/n, let’s go,” he said a little more forcefully.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his authority, the feeling once more traveling down to your core. You blinked a few times, before following Minho out the door and back to the other dressing room. Have things finally started to look up? Even though it was nothing, his actions were different from what you were used to, your mind running in a million directions as you were confused. You wondered what brought on the change, but you didn’t linger on the thought for much longer as you felt Minho’s hand on the small of your back, allowing you to enter the dressing room first. The members looked at you, smirks on their faces as you walked back to the couch to sit down.

Your mind went back to the events that just occurred. You hoped that you could sweep your differences with Minho aside because now that you have gotten a little closer to the man, you didn’t want to go back. Maybe there was hope for you two after all.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @artemisdoe @emily21morgan @athforskz @jazziwritesthings @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

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dianneking · 1 year ago

Text

The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?"

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop.

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining.

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo.

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again.

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one."

"But you will read it?"

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This."

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?"

"You'll like it."

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff.

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it."

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?"

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did.

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze.

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?"

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs.

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day).

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!”

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was.

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!!

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side.

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name!

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course.

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor and book fair dates.

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?"

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?"

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months.

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded.

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight.

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?”

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past.

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go.

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging.

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot.

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay.

_____

It was not okay.

It was anything but okay.

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess.

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly.

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad.

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply.

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time.

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to

GET OUT OF HERE!!

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?"

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?"

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!"

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this."

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading."

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she?

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–"

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists.

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you.

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands.

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?"

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to.

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together."

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste.

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy.

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #got fanfiction #asoiaf

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leonalovesalot · 11 days ago

Text

Hopin' you would come through II

ArtDonaldson x Reader

In which Art has feelings for Patrick's girlfriend.

18+ MinorsDNI (mentions of sex, but no smut)

(Gets a little angsty at the end but part 3 will have a happy ending)

wc: ~4.4k

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

When Art flopped on his bed to sleep later that night, his mind kept replaying your conversation. It was so incredibly embarrassing. You must hate him now, he thinks. Enough to walk out on him without a word, at least. He screwed everything up, didn't he? Not just any chance of the two of you getting together, but also his relationship with Patrick. He pictures you on the phone with Patrick telling him everything in a worried manner. And Patrick would probably say something like, "I'm gonna kick his ass."

He should have kept his mouth shut.

But on the other hand, it felt good to be free of this heavy secret. He'd had these feelings for you for a long time. Even before you and Patrick became a thing. He still remembers the day Patrick casually told him that he'd started seeing you. Art was nodding along, even though the words blurred into the background after, "dude, last night... Y/N and I ... we kinda hooked up."

Patrick proceeded to discuss, in detail, all the ways he touched you and how you liked to be kissed. Art had no choice but to listen like it wasn't making his ears bleed. And he felt like he could cry when Patrick mentioned, with pride, that he was your first kiss.

This is what he deserved though. For not making a move on you sooner. It cost him this wonderful life he could've had with you. Dinner dates, movies. laughter, kissing, fucking. All the things you now did with Patrick, could've been his.

He wasn't angry with Patrick since it wasn't his fault. Patrick was charming and had no problem relentlessly flirting with pretty girls (and guys). And you, not being given a lot of male attention in the past, were quick to fall for him.

So he couldn't be upset with anyone really. It was just about timing.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

You avoided Art like your life depended on it.

Hanging out with him at the party didn't go how you expected. It was a little disappointing, you thought. On your drive back home, all you could think of was how your friendship with Art was probably ruined now. How could you recover from this? You were dating his best friend! And he was trying to get with you? His best friend's girlfriend? Who would do something like that? Really. Like, what was he expecting?

You wished he just kept his mouth shut.

You got home finally and dialled Patrick on your way in.

"Hey, baby." Patrick's groggy voice cut through your never-ending thoughts.

"Hi," you close your bedroom door. You weren't sure what to say. Which really sucked because you had been impatiently waiting for this conversation and had so many things to catch him up on. Now you couldn't remember any of it.

"'M sorry I fell asleep. I've been so sleep deprived," you hear shuffling sounds, "and I think it's catching up to me 'cause I lost a match today."

He really did sound tired. And hearing about the poor outcome of the match, you knew he needed cheering up. You did plan on telling him about Art and seeking advice on what to do. But, you didn't want to upset him further.

"You should sleep then, Pat. I don't wanna keep you up." Concern evident in your voice.

"No- no. What? No. We both planned this for today and... and it's more important than sleep." He was quick to comfort you. He was always great at that. You were quite the type A, anxiety ridden over-thinker. And Patrick was the opposite. He didn't take life too seriously and everything was easy-breezy. Being around him made you feel calmer, instantly.

"We'll keep it short then." You sit down on your bed.

"Uh uh," he shakes his head, even though you can't see. "So, how was your day? It was your last exam, right? How'd it go?"

He remembered.

"It was okay. I mean... I didn't leave anything blank, but it was harder than I thought." You play with the pink duvet.

"I'm sure you did better than you think. My smart girl." He snickers.

"Hm." You bite the inside of your cheek, unconvinced. "I also uhm- Art threw a party."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah- to uhm... to celebrate the end of the semester.” You pause. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Nope. This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Patrick sighs and you hear shuffling again. You assume he’s switching positions on his bed. “Honestly, I can’t remember the last conversation I had with Art. I guess he’s too busy for me.”

“Oh, I see.” You noticed a hint of sadness at the end of his sentence.

“The party though— tell me about it.” You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “I’m surprised, actually. Parties aren’t really his scene.”

“They aren’t mine either.” You mumble.

“I know.” Patrick smiles to himself, “you two can be quite similar.”

That comment made your stomach churn. Maybe it’s time to hang up, you think. But this was how you wanted to spend the night. Listening to his sweet voice lull you to sleep. Oh God, how you missed him. You sometimes wished he wasn’t so adamant about being on tour. Instead, deciding to get a college degree and share the years of youth with you by his side. But you learned that once Patrick had made up his mind, nothing could change it.

“Y/N, you there?” He chuckles.

You snap out of your thoughts, “oh— yeah? Hm?”

“You okay? You seem a little… blue.”

Blue. Your favourite colour and your current emotion.

“I… I just,” your eyes well up suddenly and you’re not sure why, “I just miss you.”

It had been a long day. A whirlwind of emotions and now you were just so fucking tired and confused. That explains the tears.

“Aw, baby.” You picture him pouting. “I miss you too. But don’t be upset… you know I get a week off soon. I’ll come to you.”

You sniffle, “that’s not enough.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Patrick could hear you quietly crying on the other end of the phone and it made him feel helpless. The long distance aspect of it all was a lot harder when the relationship was new to begin with. The stage where you just can’t get enough of the other person was always compromised. It sucked.

He proceeded to whisper sweet nothings into the phone and you eventually calmed down. The conversation shifted and Patrick began telling you about a tv show he started last night. You nodded and listened attentively to his words.

You wanted to be in his arms.

"Can I join you?" You blurt, "on tour- I mean."

Patrick stopped his rambling and wondered if he heard you properly.

"What?"

"I could take next semester off. It's summer anyway... lots of people don't take classes." It seemed like you had thought this through.

"I don't know what to say," Patrick was caught off guard.

"Say yes." you say under your breath.

"I- yes. Yes, of course."

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

Art sat alone in his astronomy lecture. He took this elective with you because you didn't share a major with him, but still wanted to take classes together. Yet, here he was, at the back of the lecture hall sweating and catching his breath, since ten minutes was not enough to make it on time from the courts.

He hadn't heard from you after the party but he wasn't surprised. He knew you probably felt awkward about the whole situation whereas Art felt guilty.

What did surprise him, though, was that you were nowhere to be seen. He swung by your dorm and even gathered the courage to knock on the door, but only your roommate was there. And she was the one who told him where you were.

Art forced a smile and turned to leave like he didn’t just get the worst news ever. You really just packed up and left to be with Patrick. He pictured you two on the road together, staying in hotels, and you cheering him on during matches. It made him so envious.

He was sad too. Because this meant that his confession to you didn’t meant anything. Or maybe you were still oblivious. So many questions and no one to answer them.

Art eventually dropped his astronomy elective. There was no point in taking it if you weren’t there. You were the one who liked space and all that stuff after all. Not him.

The summer continued to pass slowly. Painfully slowly. The heat of the sun usually made him feel alive and refreshed. He’d get out early on the courts and play until he was covered, head to toe, in sweat. But this time, it was irritating. Sweltering. Oppressive.

He was lonely. And he missed you. He didn’t pick up any of Patrick’s calls because he didn’t know how he’d react if he heard your voice in the background.

When the semester finally ended, he went home. Spent an entire week on his couch making his parents wonder if something was wrong. But when they’d raise the question, Art would shrug them off. He didn’t want to voice what he was going through because he felt pathetic. For now— and maybe forever— he’d suffer in silence.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

You walk to and fro class with your head in the clouds. But, this time, the clouds are dark and cold and mucky and dumb and stupid and you're angry and annoyed and don't understand how your dreamy life suddenly turned to shit.

You don't even notice that Art was calling your name the moment he saw you leaving the lecture hall. You continued trudging down the hall so he jogs after you.

He was worried you were avoiding him. He had taken it for a whole summer. But he wouldn't let it go on any longer. He was desperate to talk to you.

"Hey!" Art called out, "Y/N! Wait up." He reaches out and grasps your left shoulder making you jolt in surprise.

You turn with wide eyes when you come face to face with him. His hair was a little longer, and falling over his eyes. He was also a little tan. It suited him.

"Oh my God. You scared me." You step back and take your earbuds out.

"Sorry," Art drops his hand stuffs them in his jacket pocket. The fall was kinder. Breeze and drizzle. It reflected his state of mind. And he feels like he could say the same for you.

You shake your head with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, "you're good."

An uncomfortable silence settles over the two of you.

Art finally speaks up.

"You... uhm... did you do something different to your hair?"

What the fuck was that?

The frown on your face was quickly replaced with confusion.

"No... I- no. I guess it's a little longer. I don't know." You shrug.

"Cool, yeah. Looks... yeah- looks longer." He wanted to lock himself in his dorm and never come out.

Another difficult silence.

"I should—"

"How've you—"

You both pause to let the other continue. You gesture and chuckle awkwardly telling him to go on.

"How've you been?" He asks softly, "I feel like I haven't seen you in... forever."

You look down at your shoes, which used to be white, but now looked grey.

"Honestly," you meet his gaze, "not great."

His brows raise, clearly not expecting that answer. He thought it was all rainbows and sunshine with you and Patrick.

"Is everything okay?" He tilts his head, empathizing with your gloom.

"In the grand scheme of things, yes." You try to joke weakly.

Art hesitates, unsure what to say next. His eyes were studying your face closely and something was telling him you were about to cry. He didn't understand what happened, but he really wanted to. Seeing you like this hurt him deeply.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks softly.

Your eyes widen slightly and he noticed their glassy appearance. Why were you hurting like this?

“Really?” You ask with round eyes that drew him in.

You thought it would be uncomfortable to discuss the issue with Art seeing as how your last conversation went. Did you imagine it or had he not inadvertently told you he liked you? But if he was so eager to see if you were okay… maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he really did just want to hang out with you alone that night. It was true that you had been paying less attention to him since you began dating Patrick.

That problem kind of solved itself though.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I… you can come by tonight. My roommate’s out for the weekend at the regatta.”

Your bottom lip began to quiver. “That sounds— thank you. I- I haven’t had anyone to talk to so I- I really need this.”

Art felt good. He was going to help you through whatever this was and he was happy that there was no resentment from your end. Since, he was trying to make a move on you last time.

“I’m free all evening. How about seven?”

“That’s perfect, Art.” You felt an overwhelming urge to hug him. But you didn’t understand how things were between you two so you just gently patted his forearm. “You’re such a good friend.”

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

Art sprinted back to his dorm and burst through the door, making his roommate, Nathan, fall off his chair in shock. Art panted and closed the door behind him.

“Dude, what the fuck?” His roommate recovers and gets back on his feet.

“Sorry,” Art catches his breath, “but I need you out of here.”

Perplexed, Nathan responds, “what? What’re you talking about?”

Art exhales heavily, “I need the room to myself.” He adds, “just for the evening.”

Nathan was no longer annoyed and, instead, wore a smirk, “really? Why? You got a girl comin’ over?”

Art pauses. He knew what Nathan was thinking but it wasn’t like that.

Right?

Fuck! No it wasn’t. And he can’t risk thinking that way. He’s just being a good friend to you today. That’s all he has to do. That’s all you want from him.

“Yeah… but we’re just hanging out.”

Nathan walks over to the closet and grabs an overnight bag and packs a pair of pyjamas. “Well, I’ll stay at Aiden's just incase.” He winks at Art.

“Seriously, it’s not like that.”

“Whatever, man. Don’t forget to put a sock on the door.” He laughs and walks out.

That was the last thing Art needed to think about right now.

He shakes his thoughts away and zips around the room, picking up all his things off the floor. The dorm was always a mess during the week. And on weekends, Art was too lazy to tidy up. But your coming over was a good excuse to clean. (And he totally wasn't doing it so you'd notice and compliment it because he remembered one time you mentioned that you found cleanliness attractive.)

After "cleaning" (shoving everything under his bed or stuffing things in his closet), Art stood and waited. He had too much nervous energy to relax, so he just waited for the minutes to pass.

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._..

Two soft knocks sounded at the door. Art took a deep breath and opened it. You were twiddling your thumbs and met his blue eyes when he came into view. He noticed you'd changed your clothes-- now wearing a hoodie with flared leggings. You looked cozy. He guessed these were your lounge-at-home clothes. And it was a relief you were still comfortable enough around him to wear them.

Art steps aside without a word and lets you in. He closes the door and turns to see you sitting rigidly on the edge of Nathan's twin bed.

The room felt a lot smaller now.

Art walks across the room and sits on the floor, resting his back against the side of his bed. You furrowed your eyebrows at his action, but he shot a smile your way assuring you he was fine.

"I’m… I’m all ears, Y/N” Art brings one knee up and loosely drapes his arm around it.

You chuckles softly, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You both share a comfortable silence. Soaking in each other’s presence after so long. It felt… nice. Humans really aren’t built for isolation, you think. Being in a shitty place all alone is never the solution. We need each other.

“So, I took last semester off.” You begin.

“I know.” Art purses his lips, “I found out when I was sitting by myself in Astronomy.” He chuckles softly. He didn’t feel too bitter about it anymore. Time healed some things.

An apologetic look crosses your face, “yeah— sorry about that. It was just… spontaneous.” And I was avoiding you because I thought you were in love with me and would be upset if I left you for Patrick.

“I understand.” He grins (but he knew you were just sugarcoating the real reason).

“Yeah well… I missed him. And I thought—you know— it’s time to take matters into my own hands. So I joined him on tour.” You stare at Art as you tell the story but he could tell you were looking through him and picturing your perfect vacation. It stung.

“And— oh, Art— it was amazing. I understood why Patrick was so sure about not going to college. The… the real experience— real life— is out there.” You were speaking so passionately.

Art was starting to have a little trouble listening to you. It seems his feelings were still as strong as ever and that for the past few months he was merely under the illusion that he was slowly getting over it.

“But then,” Art’s ears perk up, “the whole dreamlike sequence ended because it was time for me to leave.”

Art nods and listens closely.

“And it got us talking about our relationship. And… and I felt selfish for wanting to keep us both in this long distance thing,” you inhale shakily. “Because it is just… so… so hard,” your voice cracks.

Art panics as your uneven breathing turns into quiet crying. He reaches for his nightstand and grabs a box of tissues. He crawls forward and hands it to you. You mumble a “thank you” and he leans back against his bedside.

“Sorry,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes and nose. “I didn’t come to just cry.” You chuckle weakly.

Art looks down at his hands trying to give you privacy. “It’s okay. Really. Take your time.”

You collect yourself and clear your throat but your voice still comes out a little hoarse. “We broke up.”

You nod like you were finally realizing that it was over between you two. “Yeah… I— we had a long talk on my last day. And it just seemed like the reasonable thing to do.”

Art sits there stunned. He couldn’t believe you two called it quits. He guessed something was wrong with your relationship because that’s why you were down. But he didn’t think you’d actually… break up. He tried his best to not let his thoughts get out of control. This was upsetting. You were in pain. And Patrick was too, probably.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He offers quietly sounding slightly disingenuous.

“It felt like we were putting our lives on pause all the time. Like I wasn’t a hundred percent here. And he wasn’t a hundred percent there. And that’s not fair to either of us. We can’t just be… pieces of ourselves.” You take a deep breath, “and I… I think I also began getting a little paranoid.”

Art furrows his brows, “paranoid?”

You nod slowly, “I mean… you’ve seen the way people look at Patrick. He’s magnetic.” Art nods.

You gather the courage to finally say, “when you— at your party—”

Art freezes. He can hear his heart thumping in his ears. Knowing he couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, he sits still and hears you out.

“—when you said what you said,” you dance around the topic. “I couldn’t help but think that… Patrick had probably experienced the same thing.” You wipe the corner of your right eye and avoid his gaze. “And I thought, ‘there will be a day when he wouldn’t have it in him to resist the temptation.’”

Art felt a rush of blood to every inch of his body. His face felt red and hot.

Temptation.

Had you been tempted that night?

Did you reciprocate his feelings?

Did you want to?

He stays silent as you confide in him further. Your words blur and all he hears, over and over, is temptation.

“Can you say something?” You were looking at him now. So much emotion in your eyes.

“I think you did the right thing.” Art blurts. He quickly adds, “I mean— uhm… long distance isn't for everyone. And… and maybe one day when you’re both settled, you can give it another shot.” He feels good about what he said (even though he didn’t really mean it).

“Yeah, maybe.” You say under your breath.

The room was silent other than the sounds of your breaths. You stared at the wall, deep in thought, reminiscing about your relationship. You took a full course load this semester, hoping the mountain of homework would leave no room for thoughts of Patrick. But he was a force. Even if he wasn’t on your mind, he haunted your subconscious.

"It's kind of stupid but," you inhale deeply, "I always had this- this premonition that... the first person I'd date, I'd marry." You shake your head and run a hand through your hair, feeling vulnerable. "And I think that's part of the reason why this has been so hellish."

"It's not stupid, Y/N." Art reassures you. Nothing you could want would ever be stupid.

"It is. Because it was narcissistic—like I was entitled to it." You exhale. "I actually thought it would all be so easy. Like, why would anyone ever want to break up with me?" You chuckle bitterly. "Little did I know... I'm too 'needy.'"

"Who told you that?" Art snaps his head up.

You look at him like the answer was obvious. Art was puzzled. How could Patrick say that to you? You being needy was something Art would never mind. He'd cherish it. Because it would mean you wanted him around. That you loved him. How could that ever be a problem?

Art decides to close the space between you two. He scoots closer to you and stands on his knees in front of you, almost eye-to-eye. You swallow and pick at your nails in your lap.

"You're not needy. If anything, Patrick was so detached he couldn’t even see that your wants and expectations were completely normal."

You paused your busy hands and rested them on your thighs. They were sweaty. This felt good. Even though a part of you had a feeling he was just saying this to comfort you. The other part felt warmth and seen. So you weren't a burden. That's all you needed to hear. You were so fucking grateful for Art.

You stared at him with misty eyes. They weren’t exactly tears of sadness. Or—at least, not only sadness. There had been a storm knocking down everything inside you for the past few weeks, and for the first time you felt a ray of light peaking through the monstrous clouds.

Art noticed your eyes welling up, but there was something else in them too—something he wished he could bottle up and drink every day. It looked like you were realizing, maybe for the first time, that he cared about you just as much as—if not more than—Patrick ever did.

There was already a small distance between you. But it still felt like you were a lightyear away. Without realizing it, Art began leaning closer. His hands came to rest on either side of you, gripping the edge of the bed, quietly trapping you between them.

So pretty up close.

You were too lost in your thoughts to notice what was happening. So when you felt a soft sensation press against your lips, your eyes widened and you were immediately snapped out of your daze.

Art felt you freeze up and knew you'd pull away any second. But this was like a dream come to life. So for the few milliseconds your lips were touching, he let himself soak in every bit of it.

It happened so fast he questioned if it happened at all.

You were standing up and heading to the door to leave, while he was slouched on the floor with his lips buzzing with your trace.

Art quickly gets up and reaches out to hold your wrist, desperate to keep you here. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off. And he knew he'd gone too far but he didn't know if he'd ever get the opportunity again.

"You're unbelievable." The tear tracks on your face glistened in the soft luminescence of the streetlight peering into the room.

"I—fuck—I'm sorry. I was just—" he stammered, panicking.

"How could you possibly think that was okay?"

You were staring at him with so much contempt he almost didn't recognize you.

"Y/N, I just wanted to make you feel better," he said quickly. "You're hurting."

"No—no, Art. That’s not true. You’re just selfish. You’re—yeah—that’s what you are."

"I’m selfish?" he asked, offended.

You nodded.

"I'm not the one who packed up and left everything behind. You left me like I meant nothing to you." He chokes out, "you didn't think I deserved an explanation? Why? Because you didn't want to have that uncomfortable conversation with me? I'd say that's pretty fucking selfish." He looked away and huffed as his own eyes began to water. "I'd do anything for you. And you wouldn't even bat an eye."

"I never asked for any of this." You sniffle. "And if me not reciprocating your feelings makes you resent me, then... I don't think we can even be friends anymore.

"Fine."

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

failed an entrance exam and wrote this to distract myself

i hope it's not too all over the place

thank you for your patience and for reading <33

#challengers #art donaldson #challengers fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fanfiction #art donaldson fic #Spotify

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